The Lorimer Line (34 page)

‘I don't know.' Margaret began to laugh, and showed the card to her friend. ‘“To Miss Ell, in admiration. C. S.” He must think that's my real name, and he takes it for granted that I know what his name is.'

‘But you know who sent the flowers?'

‘Oh yes. There are not so many possibilities from which to choose.' The first glance which the surgeon had given her might have been a puzzled one, but by the end of the day his attitude had changed to something quite different. Margaret could not describe it to Lydia without being immodest, so instead she puzzled over the initials.

‘C.S.' she repeated. ‘Christopher, do you think? Christopher would be a suitable name for someone who carried children to safety. Or Charles. He looks like a Charles.'

‘What do Charleses look like?' asked Lydia, teasing.

‘Oh; strong, and kind, and dependable.' Margaret remembered how he had kept his promise to return to the hospital in the slums even when he was looking forward to an evening at the theatre. ‘Solid, somehow.'

‘You had better see if you can arrange to do your surgical dressing training at St Bartholomew's. Then you may meet this solid Charles or Christopher again.'

As it happened, Margaret had called at the London School of Medicine on her way home that evening and had arranged to do precisely what Lydia suggested. She buried her face in the roses so that Lydia should not notice her blushes - but then looked up again, startled, as she heard the doorbell ring below. ‘Has he come so soon? I am not fit to receive a call.'

‘Do you believe you are the only person in this house likely to be called upon?'

Lydia might continue to tease, but Margaret hurried to
her bedroom to wash her face and tidy her hair. There was no time, she supposed, to change from her plain skirt and over-blouse into something more becoming. In fact, she was still struggling with hairpins when Betty knocked on the door.

‘If you please, Miss, it's Mr Ralph Lorimer to see you.'

Margaret was severe with her quick flash of disappointment, but she abandoned the attempt to make herself look her best. Tidy hair was of no great importance in greeting a brother, and she hurried into the sitting room. Lydia and Ralph were talking together in an animated manner and for a moment, pausing in the doorway, Margaret looked at her brother as Lydia might be seeing him.

In the years which had passed since he left school, Ralph had grown steadily more good-looking. His expression had lost the sulky pout with which he had so often reacted to the reprimands of his father or the sermons of Clifton's overpowering headmaster, Dr Percival. Gone, too, was the guilty strain and anxiety which had shown on his face when Claudine's condition was revealed. It was as though he had managed to conquer his consciousness of personal guilt by changing it into a feeling of shame for the more general sins of his slave-trading ancestors. Now, having taken the decision to make what amends he could for these, he could once again face the world with a resolute and untroubled expression.

Lydia made no attempt to hide her admiration of his upright bearing and handsome face.

‘You are to be a missionary, I hear, Mr Lorimer,' she said. ‘When do you leave for Jamaica?'

‘In two days' time. My visit here is to say goodbye. I shall not be in England again for three years. But to make the farewell a cheerful one, I have brought tickets for the new Savoy opera. Since it is only the second night, I felt reasonably sure that you would not have seen it. I hope that you have no other arrangements for the evening.'

Margaret had intended to go early to bed, but the invitation was irresistible.

‘I shall be delighted,' she declared. Ralph turned to Lydia.

‘And you also, Miss Morton, I hope.'

‘You mean you have a ticket for me as well?' Margaret was interested to see that Lydia's sallow cheeks were flushing. Remembering her own blushes earlier that evening, she was careful to make no comment.

‘I came early so that you might have time to prepare yourselves,' Ralph said. ‘If the plan is an agreeable one, I will leave you now and come back in an hour's time.'

He left two excited young women behind him. Margaret had brought from Bristol some of the gowns which she had acquired during her father's period of generosity shortly before his death. Although styles had changed in the past four years, she had bought no new fashionable clothes during that period, so one of these would have to do. But the dresses had been thought smart at the time, and she chose one which would serve well enough.

Margaret and Lydia were delighted to discover that their evening's entertainment was to be
Iolanthe,
the new light opera by Mr Gilbert and Mr Sullivan. Their lives as medical students left them without either the energy or the money to arrange such diversions for themselves. They were pleased, in addition, to be escorted by such a handsome young man as Ralph. During the intervals they strolled up and down beneath the chandeliers, one on each side of him.

In the course of the last of these promenades, Margaret came to a sudden standstill. Her hand fell from Ralph's arm - but he, deep in conversation with Lydia, strolled on without noticing.

‘Miss Ell.' The young surgeon bowed over her hand. ‘We meet in very different circumstances.'

‘This is surely an extraordinary coincidence, Dr …' Margaret found that she was stammering in her surprise,
and had started a sentence she could not finish. ‘I mean, not to have met before, and then twice within so short a time.'

‘Perhaps we have been passing each other at intervals all through our lives, but only now noticing it.'

‘I have to thank you for the flowers,' said Margaret. ‘They gave me great pleasure. I should have written, of course, but I don't know your name.'

He laughed, and bowed for a second time.

‘Charles Scott at your service. I would have called in person, but I expected you to be spending the day in bed, recovering from your exertions. Indeed, I think you
ought
to be resting.'

‘I had intended to do so, at least this evening. But my brother is about to leave England for three years. When he arrived unexpectedly with the tickets for this performance, I could not refuse.' She was aware even as she spoke that Charles, who was so suitably Charles in reality as well as in imagination, did not need the details. It was she who was anxious to make it clear that her good-looking companion was a brother - and the point was noted, for Charles smiled again.

‘Then I may hope to be received if I call?'

‘Of course. Although you will be aware that I am not a lady of leisure, with nothing to do in the afternoons but wait for the doorbell to ring. It's only at weekends that I am likely to be found at home.' Margaret wondered whether she was being too forward in making it clear how much she would like to see him. She and Lydia had so much lost the habit of entertaining young gentlemen that she did not know what was encouraged or frowned upon by London rules of etiquette. But she could not bear to think of him coming when she was at a lecture or in a hospital, and perhaps not bothering to call again. It would have been best to invite him for a definite time, but before she could decide whether this would be proper, Ralph and Lydia returned to her side.

‘Oh, Lydia, may I present Dr Charles Scott to you,' said Margaret. She did her best not to seem flustered and frowned slightly at the smile on her friend's lips. Lydia must have guessed at once who Charles was. ‘Dr Scott, my friend Miss Morton. And my brother, Mr Ralph Lorimer.'

‘Your servant.' There was a general shaking of hands, but Charles was frowning. He seemed to be not so much surprised as disconcerted.

‘Lorimer, did you say? I thought Matron told me that your name was …'

‘Miss L is only a nickname,' Margaret explained. ‘Miss Morton is called Miss M in the same way by our fellow-students and the people we work with in the hospitals. Margaret Lorimer is my full name.'

He bowed yet again as their introduction was at last formally completed. The warning bells for the next act were ringing and it was time for them to part and return to their seats. Margaret smiled to herself as she turned away. Last night he had seen her dirty, shabby and tearful. Tonight she was dressed expensively and her face and hair were shining with cleanliness. She must surely have made a good impression; and he had asked if he might call! It could hardly have been better arranged if she had done it deliberately.

The parting from Ralph later that evening was an affecting one. He was excited by the adventure which lay ahead, and Margaret was careful to conceal her fears about the unhealthy climate in which he would be living. After he had gone she continued to worry for a while; but little by little the happiness of her evening broke through. She found herself humming the catchy tunes that Mr Sullivan had written for
Iolanthe.
But Lydia's silence was provoking.

‘Well?' she demanded at last.

‘Well what?' It took Lydia a moment to understand what she was being asked to say, but then the distracted expression left her face and she smiled mischievously.
‘Oh yes, I congratulate you. He looks a most promising acquaintance. I could see how much he admires you.'

‘Do you think so?' Margaret allowed herself to be elated by the observation. ‘Do you think it very fickle of me to feel interest in another gentleman after being so sure that I could never love anyone but David?' she asked.

‘Three years is a great time,' said Lydia. ‘A man who is silent for so long cannot expect fidelity.'

‘He could not have expected it in any case,' said Margaret. ‘The engagement was broken before he left.'

‘Then you have no reason to feel guilt. Once upon a time I felt as strongly as you that it would be faithless to love for a second time. Now I sometimes wonder whether the dead would wish for our loyalty. Do you think they would wish us to be lonely when we could be happy?'

Her voice was far from happy, and Margaret knew that Lydia was thinking of her dead lieutenant. They were both silent for a while but Margaret's emotions could not be repressed.

‘He is very handsome, would you not agree?'

‘Dr Scott?' It cost Lydia an effort of willpower to adjust her thoughts. ‘Not handsome in the sense that your brother is handsome. But good-looking, yes. I think your own choice of adjective earlier was the right one. He looks dependable, in a sturdy way.'

‘How odd that there should be two Doctor Scotts in my life!' Margaret exclaimed. Whether it was ladylike or not, she thought of her new acquaintance as Charles. Even so soon after learning his surname, she had almost forgotten it again until Lydia's reminder. ‘One Doctor Scott brought me into the world.' She wondered whether this second one might prove to have an equal importance in her life. It was too soon to put such an idea into words, but Lydia seemed to guess what she was feeling.

‘You have not yet had time to know this one well,' she warned. ‘A good appearance is not everything.'

‘I respect his profession,' Margaret pointed out. ‘And I
have had the opportunity to observe his courage.' She had not intended to make comparisons, even in her own mind, but found them irresistible. ‘A first impression may not be completely accurate, but it is surely a good guide. I remember my very first meeting with David. I was sure at once that he was clever, and ambitious, and that he was a man who would be successful in life. In spite of what happened, I still believe I was right. Those were virtues which I had been brought up to admire, and I loved him for them. Now events have taught me that other qualities may be more important.'

Lydia raised her eyebrows and Margaret did not evade the unspoken question.

‘Kindness and loyalty,' she said. ‘One needs, above all, a husband on whom one can depend.'

Was she revealing too much? And was she being tactless as well? For a second time Lydia's expression became grave, almost sad, and it occurred to Margaret that the cause of the sadness might be Ralph's departure. Had Lydia, she wondered, entertained any hopes in that direction? If so, it was clear enough that she had been disappointed. It was time to abandon the dangerous subject and go to bed.

By her own words Margaret had ruled out any possibility of seeing Charles before the weekend; but when Saturday arrived it became hard to conceal her excitement. She dressed that morning with particular care, choosing a plain dress so that Lydia would not notice that there was anything special about it, but one which emphasized her slimness. Although cold, the day was bright and sunny, and in the afternoon Lydia suggested that they should go to Hampstead and take a walk over the Heath. Margaret, however, was not prepared to leave the house. She excused herself on the grounds of an urgent need to complete her notes on the patients at the Sick Children's Hospital.

The excuse was not entirely an invention. As a result of the fire, the hospital had ceased to exist. During the week
there had been plenty for Margaret to do, visiting the children in the various hospitals to which they had been transferred, noting how they had been affected by the disturbance, and passing on to the doctors now in charge of them some information about their past history. Meanwhile, the Dean had arranged for another supervisor to take charge of her studies in child health, and from Monday until Christmas Margaret would work at Great Ormond Street. So it was true that her notes required attention -but it was not the whole truth.

As soon as Lydia had left for her walk Margaret spread papers and reference books all over the table in the sitting room which the two of them shared. The effect was impressively studious, and from time to time Margaret did in fact do some work. But every time footsteps approached along the pavement she lifted her head to listen. A hundred small hopes were succeeded by a hundred small disappointments; and when at last some footsteps did approach the front door, they were only Lydia's.