âI hope I never meet the professor again.â
Julia snipped savagely at a length of curtain intended for a dress.
âWell, I donât suppose you willâheâs a bit grand for usâ¦.â Ruth said.
âWhy do you say heâs so grand?â
âHeâs at the very top of the tree in the medical world and heâs got a Dutch title, comes from a very ancient family with lots of moneyâ¦â
âHuh,â said Julia. âProbably no oneâs good enough for him.â
Ruth replied mildly, âYou do dislike him, donât you?â
THE street, like hundreds of other streets in that part of London, was shabby but genteelly so, for the occupants of the small turn-of-the-century houses which lined it had done their best; there were clean net curtains at the windows and the paintwork was pristine, even if badly in need of a fresh coat. Even so, the street was dull under a leaden sky and slippery with the cold sleet.
The girl, Ruth, looking out of the window of one of the houses, frowned at the dreary view and said over her shoulder, âI donât think I can bear to go on living here much longerâ¦â
âWell, you wonât have toâThomas will get the Senior Registrarâs post and youâll marry and be happy ever after.â
The speaker who answered, Julia, was kneeling on the shabby carpet, pinning a paper pattern to a length of material. She was a pretty girl, with a quantity of russet hair tied back carelessly with a bootlace, a tip-tilted nose and a wide mouth. Her eyes under thick brows were grey, and as she got to her feet it was apparent that she was a big girl with a splendid figure.
She wandered over to the window to join her sister. âA good thing that Dr Goodman hasnât got a surgery this morning; youâve no need to go out.â
âThe evening surgery will be packed to the doorsâ¦â
They both turned their heads as a door opened and another girl, Monica, came in. A very beautiful girl, almost as beautiful as her elder sister. For while Julia, she of the russet hair, was pretty, the other two were both lovely, with fair hair and blue eyes. Ruth was taller than Monica, and equally slender, but they shared identical good looks.
âIâm off. Though heaven knows how many children will turn up in this weather.â Monica smiled. âBut George was going to look inâ¦â
George was the parish curate, young and enthusiastic, nice-looking in a rather crumpled way and very much in love with Monica.
They chorused goodbyes as she went away again.
âIâm going to wash my hair,â said Ruth, and Julia got down onto her knees again and picked up the scissors.
The front doorbell rang as she did so, and Ruth said from the door, âThat will be the milkman; I forgot to pay himâ¦Iâll go.â
Professor Gerard van der Maes stood on the doorstep and looked around him. He had, in an unguarded moment, offered to deliver a package from his registrar Thomas, to that young manâs fiancéeâsomething which, it seemed, it was vital she received as quickly as possible. Since the registrar was on duty, and unlikely to be free for some time, and the Professor was driving himself to a Birmingham hospital and would need to thread his way through the northern parts of London, a slight deviation from his route was of little consequence.
Now, glancing around him, he rather regretted his offer. It had taken him longer than he had expected to find the house and he found the dreary street not at all to his taste. From time to time he had listened to Thomasâs diffident but glowing remarks about his fiancée, but no one had told him that she lived in such a run-down part of the city.
The girl who answered the door more than made up for the surroundings. If this was Ruth, then Thomas must indeed be a happy man.
He held out a hand. âVan der Maes, a colleague of Thomas. He wanted you to have a parcel and I happened to be going this way.â
âProfessor van der Maes.â Ruth beamed up at him. âHow kind of you.â She added, not quite truthfully, âI was just going to make coffeeâ¦â
He followed her into the narrow hall and into the living room and Ruth said, âJuliaâ¦â