Hilltop Tryst by Betty Neels

Author:Betty Neels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1989-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

THE DOCTOR had little to say as he drove to his home, and Beatrice, her head for the moment full of worried thoughts about her clothes, hardly noticed his silence. She had nice clothes; her father paid her a salary for her help at the clinic and she was able to afford them, but she didn’t go out a great deal and her stock of after-six dresses was small. ‘And something to travel in,’ she muttered, forgetting where she was for the moment.

‘Oh, knitted cotton or jersey that will drip dry,’ Oliver answered.

She turned to gape at him. ‘Whatever do you know about drip-dry cotton?’

‘You forget that I have sisters. You should wear honey colour with that hair, or that pale apricot pink. I’m partial to pink.’

She had to laugh, and he said, ‘That’s better. You don’t laugh enough these days.’

He swept the car through the gates, and there was Jennings waiting at the open door with Mabel bouncing around, anxious to be made much of. Beatrice, going in to a chorus of cheerful barks and Jennings hovering, felt quite at home.

They ate their lunch with a map spread out on the table between them, while the doctor pointed out exactly where they would be going.

‘And do you lecture in English?’ she wanted to know.

‘In Holland, yes, and in Copenhagen, but I manage to make myself understood in German and French, and of course a number of medical terms are universal.’

‘And do you give the same lecture each time?’

‘Well, basically, yes.’

‘You must be very clever—cleverer than I thought…’

He said gravely, ‘Thank you, Beatrice. You flatter me.’

‘Oh, I didn’t mean to do that,’ she said forthrightly. ‘I dare say there are a lot of things you can’t do.’

His, ‘Oh, dozens,’ was so meek that she gave him a suspicious look which he countered with a bland smile.

They didn’t linger over the meal, but got back into the car, this time with Mabel on the back seat, and drove back to her home. Mrs Browning, hatted and gloved, was waiting for them, declared herself perfectly willing to share the back seat with Mabel and was ushered into the car.

The journey took less than an hour, and was largely filled by Mrs Browning’s voice murmuring over her shopping list.

‘You’ll need a new dress, dear; something pretty for the evening…’

Beatrice frowned; it sounded as though her mother was fishing for dinner invitations; if he offered her one she would refuse.

The doctor caught the frown out of the corner of his eye and smiled a little. ‘Two, if I might suggest that. I did tell Beatrice that I am invited to attend at least one dinner in each place we visit, and I’m expected to bring my companion.’

‘What about Miss Cross?’ Beatrice asked.

‘Oh, the secretaries have a gathering of their own; she has what she calls her little black number, and something called her brown crêpe.’

‘You look awful in black,’ commented Mrs Browning from the back seat.

Beatrice let out a very small sigh, and the doctor began to talk about the journey, so that Mrs Browning put away her list and listened.

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