Kitabı oku: «Magic in Vienna», sayfa 3

‘There you are, Madam dear, here at last, and Eileen with you too.’ Her beady dark eyes studied Cordelia before she smiled at her. ‘And this is the young lady the doctor mentioned. Come along in,’ she stood aside as they went into the hall, ‘I’ll let him know that you are here—stayed home from hospital on purpose to welcome you, he did…’ She paused for breath and one of the doors in the hall was opened and a man came out.

Uncle Charles, but not the Uncle Charles of her and Eileen’s fancy—this man, while no longer young, was still in his thirties and his dark hair was barely touched by grey. He was, thought Cordelia, quite out of her depth, incredibly handsome in a craggy way, and very large, towering over them all in a rather off putting fashion. Oh, how very nice, she thought inadequately and waited for him to speak.

He had a quiet voice and rather slow; she couldn’t catch what he said to his mother as he stooped to kiss her before turning to Eileen, standing beside her and staring at him with frank surprise.

His, ‘Hullo, Eileen. You don’t remember me, do you? I hope you will be happy here until your parents return,’ was uttered in a somewhat absent minded way, and Cordelia noticed that he held a book in one hand, one finger marking the place. A pity if he was an absent minded scholar who preferred books to people, she mused and then coloured faintly as Lady Trescombe said: ‘This is Miss Gibson, Charles, Eileen’s companion.’

‘How d’you do,’ asked Cordelia politely. The doctor studied her carefully, ‘Mrs Thompson shall take you to your rooms,’ he said at length, ‘we shall be in the drawing room when you are ready. I daresay you would like a drink before lunch.’ He nodded at her and took his mother’s arm and led her across the hall to another door, opened it and went inside with her, closing it behind him.

‘He’s awful,’ whispered Eileen and caught Cordelia’s hand in hers.

‘No, dear. I think perhaps he’s used to living alone and isn’t quite sure what to do with us.’ She didn’t say more because Mrs Thompson had come to take them to their rooms.

It was a large apartment; they mounted half a dozen shallow stairs and went down a long passage, thickly carpeted, with Mrs Thompson leading the way, talking cosily all the while. ‘Side by side, you are,’ she told them, ‘and there’s a bathroom for you to share. The doctor’s along the other corridor and Thompson and I are at the end of his corridor. He thought you’d like to be on your own…’

She opened doors as she spoke, revealing two rooms, furnished very similarly in a rather heavy fashion. There was a connecting door and a view of the street below from their windows. ‘Of course,’ the doctor only rents this place,’ explained Mrs Thompson, tweaking a bedspread into exact lines, ‘he doesn’t care for it overmuch, but it’s handy for the university and the hospitals, and we’ll be going home in a couple of months.’ She beamed at them. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to tidy up. You can find your way to the drawing room? If you want any help with unpacking just you ring. I’ll be in Lady Trescombe’s room putting her things to rights…’

Left alone Eileen looked at Cordelia. ‘I’m not going to like it here,’ she said defiantly, and peeped at her to see what she would say.

‘Well, I don’t see how you can say that until we’ve been here for at least two or three days,’ said Cordelia matter-of-factly. ‘I thought it all looked rather exciting as we drove here, didn’t you? That Palace and those dear little carriages…we might take a ride…’

‘All the same,’ began Eileen, but Cordelia didn’t give her the chance: ‘The thing is,’ she went on calmly, ‘now we’re here, wouldn’t it be a good thing to sample some of the things we’ve been reading about on board; I’d love to see the Schonbrunn Palace and eat a cream cake at Sacher’s Coffee House and to go to the Spanish Riding School.’

She could see Eileen wavering but she was far too wise to say more. ‘Let’s tidy ourselves and have that drink,’ she suggested.

Five minutes later they were ready. They were on the last stair of the steps leading to the hall and about to cross the hall to the half open drawing room door when Dr Trescombe spoke, his deep quiet voice nevertheless very clear.

‘By all means let her stay,’ he sounded bored, ‘I’m sure that I can rely on your opinion, Mother. I can’t say I have felt much interest—a rather dull girl, I should have thought, with no looks to speak of…’

Cordelia had stopped, rooted to the spot, her face had paled and her gentle mouth was half open. She might have stayed there for heaven knew how long but Eileen caught her by the hand and whisked her silently back up the steps. Safely on the landing she whispered fiercely: ‘Don’t believe a word of it Cordelia, you’re not a bit dull and when you smile you’re beautiful. I hate him.’

Cordelia managed a smile. ‘At least I’m to stay.’ She breathed the words into Eileen’s ear. ‘But don’t hate him—he’s quite right, you know.’

Eileen scowled and Cordelia put a finger to her lips and urged her down into the hall again. She said in a high and rather loud voice: ‘I daresay most people living in Vienna have apartments, I remember reading…’

They had reached the drawing-room door, which was a good thing because she had no idea what she was going to say next.

Lady Trescombe was sitting in an over upholstered chair, a glass on the small table by her side. She said unnecessarily: ‘There you are. Eileen, you may have a glass of lemonade. Miss Gibson, you would probably like a glass of sherry.’

The doctor was standing at the other end of the room, looking out of the window. He turned to look at them as they went in but apparently he had no objection to his mother taking over his duties for he said nothing before resuming his study of the street outside.

‘I shall return home in two days time,’ observed Lady Trescombe. ‘You will arrange that for me, Charles? A morning flight I think.’

Cordelia and Eileen had sat down side by side on a massive sofa and he came to sit in a chair opposite his mother.

‘Certainly, my dear, although I should have liked you to stay for longer.’

He transferred his gaze to Cordelia and she was startled to see how very blue his eyes were. ‘You will remain, Miss Gibson? Eileen’s parents will return in rather less than six weeks and I must depend upon you to keep her occupied and happy until then. You must understand that I have my work which keeps me busy and I have little leisure. Your duties are unlikely to be onerous. I have arranged for Eileen to attend a school while she is here,’ and at the girl’s interruption: ‘Don’t worry, Eileen, you will only go to the classes you will enjoy. You like painting and drawing don’t you? You may go three times a week to art class, and perhaps you might like the cookery sessions and the embroidery… Anyway, try them out, and if you don’t like them, we’ll think of something else. Your mother wrote to me and suggested it and I know it would please her, but if the idea of school makes you unhappy, we’ll scrap it.’

Cordelia found this to be a very reasonable arrangement and was relieved to see Eileen’s face brighten. ‘I can really choose for myself?’

‘Of course. There will be plenty of time for you and Miss Gibson to explore Vienna—feel free to go where you like, provided you let Thompson or Mrs Thompson know where you are going.’ He smiled suddenly and looked years younger. ‘I’m afraid I’m not much of an uncle, my dear, you must forgive a middle-aged bachelor.’

‘Probably,’ said Eileen, ‘when Cordelia and I have been here for a week or two, you’ll feel much younger.’

His eyes flickered over Cordelia. ‘Er—quite possibly. Perhaps the two of you would like to unpack?’

Cordelia got up and walked to the door without saying a word, reminding herself that after all he wasn’t any worse than her stepmother, and she was being paid for it. As she waited for Eileen she did a little rapid mental arithmetic—five weeks at the salary she was getting, if she saved most of it, would cushion her nicely against the uncertain future.

She had, while they had been on board, spent some time in deciding what she would buy once they were in Vienna, her wardrobe was, after all meagre, but now she realised that half a dozen sacks would do just as well as far as Uncle Charles was concerned and she wasn’t likely to make many friends. She would be able to manage very well with what she had.

The pair of them unpacked while Eileen discussed her uncle.

‘It’s not polite to talk about him when we’re guests under his roof,’ reproved Cordelia.

‘Well I don’t think I like him, I expect he thinks we’re a nuisance…’

‘Quite likely. You see he lives alone and has only had himself to consider. I’m quite sorry for him—I daresay he’s a very lonely man.’

Eileen, under Cordelia’s direction, was laying shoes and slippers in a neat row in the clothes closet. ‘Well, he can get married.’ She turned to look at Cordelia. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy him?’

‘No,’ said Cordelia, ‘I don’t think I do, and isn’t that a good thing for I don’t suppose I’d make much headway, would I?’

They giggled at the very idea, finished their unpacking and went downstairs again.

Lunch was ready as they reached the hall, delayed for half an hour so that Dr Trescombe could talk to his mother. They ate it in a sombre heavily furnished room, sitting spaced out round an oval table. The doctor was a good host; he included Eileen and Cordelia in the conversation and was attentive to their wants, all the same Cordelia was relieved when they went back to the drawing room for their coffee, and presently she gave a speaking look to Eileen and carried that reluctant young lady off to her room.

‘Are you going back to the drawing room?’ she wanted to know as Cordelia prepared to leave her.

‘Me? Heavens no. Your grandmother and uncle will want to talk together.’ She could imagine the polite conversation they would maintain if she were foolish enough to rejoin them, concealing their impatience with well-bred courtesy. ‘I shall go to my room for a bit, presently I should think we might go out and take a look round. There’s a park close by, unless your grandmother or uncle want you…’

She left Eileen with a book and went along to her own room and did her face and hair again for something to do and then went and sat by the window and watched the street below. She hoped that Uncle Charles wasn’t going to dislike her, it was disheartening that he had such a poor opinion of her, but perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing; he’d be more likely to ignore her. And in the meanwhile, here she was in Vienna, living in what to her was the lap of luxury and with untold museums, monuments and palaces to explore. Money to spend too, although she would have to save most of it.

An hour, she judged, seemed a suitable period in which to leave mother and son together; she went through the connecting door to Eileen’s room, cast a critical eye over her appearance, and suggested that it might be a good idea to find Lady Trescombe and discover her plans for the rest of the day.

An unnecessary exercise, as it turned out for Mrs Thompson knocked on the door with the request that Miss Eileen should go down to the drawing room to her grandmother, and Miss Gibson was asked to go at once to Dr Trescombe’s study.

A gloomy, book-lined apartment, she discovered, with dark green curtains draped on either side of the big window and a wide desk set at an angle to the door. The doctor sat behind it, but he got up as she went in and offered her one of the stiff little leather armchairs opposite the desk.

This done, he went to the window and rather impatiently pulled back the curtains so that there was more light in the room. It fell on to Cordelia’s face but she didn’t turn away from it: in fact she was a practical girl and he’d already decided that she had no looks…

He studied her in a detached way for a few moments. ‘My mother tells me that Eileen likes you, a sufficient recommendation for you to remain here. But I cannot stress sufficiently that you must take sole charge of her; I have had very little to do with children and my work precludes my participation in an active social life. I leave you to decide what is suitable for Eileen’s entertainment and rely upon you to keep her suitably occupied.’

‘In short, Dr Trescombe, you don’t want to be aware that we are here.’ Cordelia spoke quietly in a matter-of-fact voice but the doctor’s eyebrows rose.

‘You put it rather more frankly than necessary, Miss Gibson, but yes, that is what I wish.’

‘I shall do my best,’ observed Cordelia calmly, ‘but of course Eileen is a high spirited child, to keep her quite silent will be difficult.’

‘I am not an ogre,’ said the doctor sharply. ‘I shall expect you to come to me if you need help of any sort and naturally, I wish Eileen to be happy while she is here.’ He sat back in his chair and said in a more friendly voice. ‘You will both take your meals with me; I am seldom home for lunch, but I hope that you will both join me for breakfast and dinner. Occasionally I have guests, and probably it may be better if you and Eileen dine alone—the talk is usually in German.’

Cordelia decided that it was unnecessary to tell him that she knew something of that language. And anyway, Lady Trescombe may have mentioned it. She quite understood that neither Eileen nor herself were likely to add much sparkle to a dinner party and she agreed without hesitation.

‘In which case, I don’t need to keep you any longer, Miss Gibson. I believe my mother wishes to drive to the shops with Eileen and give her tea at Sacher’s. If you care to go out and find your way around for a short time? Mrs Thompson will give you your tea when you return. We dine at eight o’clock.’

He got up and went to open the door for her. Nice manners, thought Cordelia, once more in the hall, but what a waste; head buried in his books when he’s not examining his patients. I believe he’s scared of having us here. Afraid that we’ll upset his bachelor life. She went to her room, dabbed some more powder on her nose, tucked her handbag under her arm and left the house, having been informed by Thompson, hovering in the hall that Lady Trescombe and Miss Eileen had gone off in a taxi. He smiled at her very kindly and pressed a map of the city into her hand before she went. ‘I’ve marked this building with a cross in ink, Miss,’ he advised her, ‘if you miss your way all you need to do is get a taxi and show the driver the map.’

She thanked him, much cheered by his thoughtfulness, and set off in the direction of the ring. From a hasty look at the map, she saw that provided she kept to it, she would eventually get back to the doctor’s apartment, for the Ring encircled the inner City and was clearly marked.

She paused uncertainly on the edge of the pavement, deciding whether to go left or right, and the doctor, watching her from the window of his study, smiled as she turned briskly to the left, where in the distance, she could see the reassuring bulk of the houses of Parliament.

CHAPTER THREE

RETURNING AFTER a brisk hour’s walk, Cordelia felt that she had done rather well; guided by the map she had found her way back to the Imperial Palace, conveniently surrounded by museums, the Spanish Riding School and some charming gardens. A good jumping off ground upon which to base the daily excursions she had planned for Eileen.

Back at the apartment, Thompson appeared silently beside her as she went down the hall. ‘I will put tea in the small sitting room, Miss. Would ten minutes suit you?’

She beamed at him. ‘Oh, Thompson, how nice. Yes, that will be fine. Where’s the small sitting room?’

He indicated a door at the end of the hall. ‘I rather fancy that will be the room set aside for the use of yourself and Miss Eileen during your stay,’ he told her. ‘Anything you require, Miss, if you would ask me or Mrs Thompson.’ He added poker faced: ‘The Dr is much occupied with his work and doesn’t wish to be bothered with matters which Mrs Thompson or I can deal with.’

‘I understand Thompson, Miss Eileen and I will do our best not to disturb him. I—I was told that he was a very busy man.’

‘Indeed, Miss. Writing a book, he is, as well as lecturing at the medical school and working as a temporary consultant at the general hospital not very far from here, just off the Wahringer Strasse. A kind of exchange of eminent medical men, I understand.’

She found a nicely arranged tea tray waiting for her, with small sandwiches, sugary cakes and tea in a delicate china pot. Uncle Charles might not like his bachelor peace invaded, but he was a thoughtful host. She occupied the hours after that in making out a timetable of their days; it had to be largely guesswork because she wasn’t sure for how long each day Eileen would go to school, but with the small guide book she had purchased when she was out, she could see that there were more than enough places of interest to keep them fully occupied for weeks. They would visit the nearby museums first, she decided and heaven knew there were enough of them and there were even more churches… And an odd morning window shopping might be a good idea, and one or two concerts. Well pleased with herself, she looked up as Eileen knocked on the door and came in.

‘I’ve had such a gorgeous tea, enormous cream cakes—it’s a super place, Cordelia, I shall take you there, and we looked at some shops and Granny says I may have a new outfit for when Mummy and Daddy get back. I’m to ask Uncle Charles for the money…What have you been doing?’

And when Cordelia outlined her plans: ‘It sounds dreadfully dull. I shall tell Uncle Charles that I don’t want to visit a whole lot of stuffy museums.’

‘By all means,’ agreed Cordelia equably. ‘I’ve no doubt that you’ll enjoy school better.’

‘I won’t go to school either. Granny allows me to do as I like.’

‘That’s nice for you, but of course you’ll grow up without two ideas in your head which would be very boring for your friends; young men like to air their views, but you know they like an intelligent listener too.’

‘How do you know?’ asked Eileen rudely.

‘You learn about these things as you grow up,’ observed Cordelia calmly. ‘But it’s up to you, of course. Your uncle won’t want me to stay, and quite right too—he’d be wasting his money.’

She wasn’t prepared for Eileen’s instant reaction to this.

‘You’re not to go—I want you to stay here with me. If I ask Granny she’ll make you stay.’

‘No one can make me stay, my dear. I don’t want to go, but I quite see that it would be a frightful waste of your uncle’s money to keep me here unless I made some effort to improve your mind.’

Eileen smiled suddenly. ‘Darling Cordelia, do stay. I promise you I’ll go to all the beastly museums you want. I don’t want to go to school, but I suppose I’ll have to go to those classes Uncle Charles has arranged.’

‘I expect you will, but they’ll only take up a part of each day, you know. I thought that once a week at least we’d take ourselves off to the shops and have a good look round. You shall help me buy a dress—I’m hopelessly unfashionable.’

‘Yes, you are, but you’d look quite pretty if you got a smart outfit. Have you a lot of money to spend?’

Cordelia laughed. ‘Almost no money at all, which will make it all the more fun. Now let’s get ready for dinner, shall we?’

They went downstairs presently, the best of friends, Eileen in a dress far too elaborate for her age, and Cordelia presenting a neat and unassuming appearance which did nothing for her at all, except to make her look as much like an old fashioned governess as it was possible to be.

Lady Trescombe was in the drawing room, elegant in black chiffon and her son was with her; he was in a dinner jacket and Cordelia instantly felt hopelessly unsuitably dressed, a feeling only slightly mitigated by his: ‘I have to go to a reception directly after dinner.’ He spoke kindly but with an aloof air which chilled her. Even the glass of sherry she was given before they went into the dining room didn’t dispel her gloom.

Dr Trescombe certainly lived in some style; the table was a splendid sight with its starched white linen, gleaming silver and shining crystal. The food matched it; lobster soup, filleted trout, boeuf en croüte and a delicious concoction of ice cream and fruit and shredded chocolate topped with whipped cream, made specially, the doctor informed his niece, in honour of her arrival. Cordelia, a little too thin in any case, and not one to put on weight easily, ate everything with a healthy appetite. The job had its drawbacks, she thought, listening to the doctor and his mother discussing the current performance at the Opera House, but it also had its advantages. She hadn’t had such a delicious meal for years.

They had their coffee in the drawing room, she had barely set her cup and saucer down when the doctor said carelessly, ‘You would no doubt like to see Eileen to her bed, Miss Gibson. If there is anything either of you require will you ask Mrs Thompson? I breakfast at half-past seven. You will be called in good time in the morning.’

Cordelia gave him a clear, faintly pitying look. Good manners wouldn’t allow him to show his unease at having them in his house and she would have to make things as easy as possible for him while they were there. She got up at once, waited while Eileen said good night to her grandmother and uncle and added her own quiet ‘Good night’ and ushered a silently protesting child from the room.

‘I don’t want to go to bed,’ declared Eileen the moment they were in the hall. ‘Granny lets me stay up as long as I like.’

‘It’s very kind of your uncle to have us here,’ observed Cordelia matter-of-factly, ‘and remember, it’s because your grandmother needs a rest. The least we can do is do as he wishes. It’s not all that early either, by the time you’ve had a bath it’ll be ten o’clock. Remember we have to be up early in the morning too. Unless your uncle has any special plans for you, I thought we might go along to the Imperial Palace. I walked there this afternoon and it looked well worth a visit. We might take a ride in one of those dear little carriages too.’

This happily had the effect of putting Eileen in a good humour again; she went to bed without further ado and Cordelia was free to go to her room next door.

The curtains had been drawn but she opened the french window they covered and stepped on to the narrow balcony. The street below was brightly lit but quiet, but she could hear the steady hum of traffic in the distance and see the lights of the city all round her. It would be fun, she mused wistfully, to be driven through the streets, past the cafés, and watch the people in them; friends and lovers, husbands and wives, elderly gentlemen sipping whatever it was one sipped in Vienna. Of course, she would need a companion, someone who would listen to her comments and answer her questions…’ Daydreams,’ said Cordelia, severely, and turned to go through the window again. She paused at the sound of a car and leaned over the wrought iron railing to watch the Jaguar which had met them at the boat slide to a halt before the house and Thompson get out. A moment later the front door opened and the doctor came out, the lights from the hall silhouetting him against the dark outside. He stood a minute, talking to Thompson and then went unhurriedly to his car. With his hand on the door he turned round and looked back over his shoulder at Cordelia, a small dark figure lighted from the open window. He stared up at her for a long moment and she stared back, wondering if she should call another good night. She was glad that she had decided against that, for he said nothing at all but got into his car and drove away.

She got ready for bed, a little worried that he might have thought that she was snooping, but since there was nothing to do about it, she put her sensible head on the pillow and went to sleep.

A strapping young woman brought her tea in the morning and Cordelia tried out her German on her with quite satisfactory results. When the girl had gone, she got out of bed and peered between the curtains. It was a fine morning and the fresh green leaves on the trees planted on the small grassy plot at the corner of the street rustled gently in the light wind.

Cordelia made sure that Eileen was getting up and got herself dressed in her sensible neat clothes, made up her face without a great deal of interest, brushed her soft hair into smoothness and went to see if Eileen was ready. She wasn’t, of course, it took Cordelia several minutes to find the particular T-shirt Eileen simply had to wear so that they only just made it to the dining room with seconds to spare.

The doctor was already at table, but he rose as they joined him, offered a cheek for his niece’s kiss, wished Cordelia a polite good morning, and became immediately immersed in the papers scattered round his plate. He wasn’t a tidy man, which surprised her, for he presented an immaculate appearance, for as he finished with one letter or the other, he cast them on to the floor beside his chair. He ate what was on his plate when he remembered and she was sure that he wasn’t eating nearly enough. The wish to tidy up his correspondence, put a knife and fork in his hand and tell him to eat up was very strong, but she suppressed this motherly instinct and got on with her own breakfast. She had warned Eileen not to talk unless her uncle opened a conversation, so the three of them sat there, not saying a word until at length he threw his napkin to join the papers on the floor and got up, still reading. He had quite obviously forgotten that they were there, indeed, he went through the door without pause and then, to their surprise, poked his head round the door and wished them a pleasant day rather in the manner of a man who had just remembered some small forgotten chore.

‘Why doesn’t he talk?’ Eileen was keen to know, listening to the shutting of the front door.

‘I think perhaps he’s a very clever man,’ explained Cordelia. ‘Clever people aren’t always aware of the ordinary world around them; they’re wrapped up in whatever they’re clever about.’

Eileen’s eyes gleamed with mischief. ‘I say, Cordelia, darling, shall we do something about it? If we could find a beautiful lady in gorgeous clothes to catch his eye.’ She studied Cordelia, ‘It’s a pity,’ she said regretfully, ‘but I’m afraid that you wouldn’t do…’

‘No, well, of course I wouldn’t,’ agreed Cordelia seriously. ‘I haven’t any gorgeous clothes for one thing, and no one has ever considered me beautiful. But it would be nice if your uncle were to meet someone…it’s such a waste, if you see what I mean.’

And Eileen, a precocious child, saw.

Lady Trescombe always breakfasted in her room; there was no hurry, the two of them sat over their meal, planning their morning, always providing Lady Trescombe hadn’t already made plans of her own. Which she hadn’t. Eileen going to wish her grandmother good morning presently, was told to send Cordelia to her, and when Cordelia tapped on the door and presented herself in the large, splendidly furnished room set aside for Lady Trescombe’s use, it was to be told to take Eileen for a drive along the Ring, give her coffee or chocolate in one of the cafés, and then visit St Stephan’s Cathedral. ‘And after lunch, which you will have here, I intend taking her to the shops with me. You will be free until we return at tea time, Cordelia. I shall be going back to England tomorrow afternoon. I had wished to leave in the morning, but there was no available seat; I shall probably spend the morning with Eileen and you may do as you wish for an hour or so. Your free time is something you must arrange with the doctor, and you must be prepared to have it when it is convenient.’ She smiled kindly at Cordelia. ‘You are quite happy to remain here until Eileen’s parents return?’

‘Yes, thank you, Lady Trescombe. I’ve made a rough list of the more interesting places to visit, and we can see them at our leisure once I know when Eileen is to go to school.’

Lady Trescombe nodded. ‘Of course. Charles will arrange that and let you know.’

If he remembers, thought Cordelia, on her way to the door, to be called back and given a roll of notes. ‘For the carriage drive and your coffee.’

‘Thank you—I’ll keep a careful note of what I spend.’

The drive was fun; the carriage was small and open with two well groomed horses and a cheerful driver in the traditional bowler hat. Cordelia had brought her guide book with her but the public buildings which it listed were largely overlooked by them both; the shops and cafés and the people thronging the pavements were far more interesting.

They had coffee and mountainous cream cakes presently and then, obedient to Lady Trescombe’s suggestion, found their way to St Stephan’s Cathedral where they lingered far too long, so that they had to take another fiacre back to the apartment, much to Eileen’s delight.

The doctor was home for lunch and he questioned them politely about their morning.

‘Your German is adequate, Miss Gibson?’ He glanced at her briefly, not smiling.

‘I think so, Dr Trescombe, at least for everyday needs.’

He nodded. ‘I will let you know as soon as I can arrange Eileen’s lessons.’ And that was the sum total of their conversation. She went out again after lunch having seen Lady Trescombe and Eileen driving off in a taxi. She was careful not to go too far and since it was a warm afternoon, she sat in the Volksgarten, reading the guide book and making a list of the things she would like to buy. A fearful waste of time, really, for she would need to save as much as she could. All the same, she was conscious that her clothes weren’t adequate; the doctor might be a man wrapped up in his learned books and papers, but there had been a decided look of amused scorn in his look when he had first seen her, thinking of it made her squirm, just because of that look she was going to buy just one stunning outfit…