"You have pain, yes, although you lie there with your eyes shut. Professor Bamstra says that you must sleep, so you will drink this, please. Tomorrow the pain will be better."

And Esmeralda, weary of her thoughts, drank down whatever it was and was thankful to feel the pain receding, and very soon a delightful sleepiness took possession of her. Her head drooped on the pillows, and she slept--so soundly that when Mr. Bamstra came in at one o'clock in the morning, she didn't stir.

She made splendid progress. She mastered the crutches in no time at all, and went up and down the wide corridor of the wing, a little apprehensive about falling over or catching her wretched little wires on something, but she mastered this weakness too and stomped around, careful not to get in the busy nurses' way. She still had pain, but it was less now and was to be expected; a great deal of calcification had had to be broken down and there had been a good deal of chipping and hammering. She did her best to bear it for as long as possible and on the whole, managed very well.

It was towards the second day of using her crutches that she was promenading up and down the corridor, her mind busy with the problem of Leslie; there was still no letter, no card even, from him. The temptation to telephone him was very great, but she had little experience of such a situation and was uncertain what to do. She swung along, her head down, her hair hanging round her shoulders in an untidy tangle. She stopped and tossed it impatiently down her back, feeling hot and tired and aimless, so that when she caught sight of Mr. Bamstra standing at the far end of the corridor, watching her, she cried quite crossly: "Where have you been? It's three days!"

If he found this greeting surprising, he gave no sign of it. His "Hullo, Esnieralda," was quietly friendly, but somehow it reminded her who he was so that she paused to look at him and then hobbled as fast as she could towards him.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that--you've been busy..."

"And so have you, I see." He gave her an encouraging smile.

"We'll have that heel strengthened today, and then you can get around even faster. How does it feel?"

It was funny how he always made her feel better.

"Marvellous. It aches a bit--it will be nice to get rid of these pins, though."

"A week or two yet, I'm afraid. Will you come into your room and I'll take a look." He raised his voice in a mild bellow for Monique van Nelle and when she came, placid and smiling as she always was, ushered the two of them into Esmeralda's room, where he spent a considerable time gently prodding with his large sensitive fingers, and finally stood back satisfied.

"Very nice. Monique, we'll have that heel seen to--let me see, what have we got this afternoon? Shall we say six o'clock this evening in the plaster room? That will give it sufficient time to dry out before Esmeralda gets out of her bed tomorrow morning--and not without your stick, mind. Antibiotics finished? Physio coming each day?"

He nodded to himself and glanced at the Dutch girl.

"Monique, will you get hold of Octavius and let him know, otherwise he might have plans of his own." His grey eyes twinkled as she went faintly pink.

"Tell him there will be half an hour's work, no more." And then, when she had gone: "And now, Esmeralda, tell me why you look like that."

"Like what?" She was very conscious of her untidy hair; probably her nose was shining too.

"Sad--worried, waiting for something." He turned his back and went to look out of the window.

"You hear from your mother regularly?"

"Oh, yes--we telephone each other and write letters." She added with false cheerfulness: "I get lots of letters."

"But none from young Chapman."

She was instantly on the defensive.

"He's busy..." She stopped herself from saying more; the man before her was busy too--busier.

"Perhaps they've got lost in the post," she mumbled miserably He helped her out kindly.

"Oh, probably--in any case, it is very difficult to find time to write, even to telephone after a hard day's work. I think you should allow him a few more days; I daresay it seems a long time to you since you left England, but it's not yet a week, you know."

He turned round to face her and now his voice was brisk.

"Tomorrow you are to start walking, Esmeralda--with a stick, of course; it may hurt at first, but no harm can come to your foot; it's secure enough in its plaster. We'll have the st.i.tches out in a few days and then it will be just a question of physio and patience. I can promise you that your foot is as near its original form as it's possible to get it."

She twisted a length of hair and tossed it over her shoulder.

"I'll never be able to thank you enough," she said soberly.

"You can't imagine what it means to me..." She smiled suddenly: "I'll be able to dance!"

"Indeed, yes." He glanced at his watch.

"I must go."

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry I was cross." She didn't look at him.

"Have you been to your home since I saw you last?"

She saw the surprise on his face and coloured faintly, although he answered readily enough.

"For a flying visit--Why?" He was interrupted by Monique, who poked her pretty head round the door and said something urgently in her soft voice.

He went to the door, pausing only long enough to say: "I have to talk to someone on the telephone--tot ziens. " I The door closed soundlessly behind him.

Esmeralda, left alone, heaved a great sigh of relief. What on earth had possessed her to ask him such a question? It was no business of hers what he did or where he went; he had never volunteered any information about himself, and he must have been wondering what to say to her--what luck that Monique should have come in just then. She went over to the small dressing table and sat down before it to tidy her hair; such a pity that she always looked such a fright when Mr. Bamstra came to see her.

The Theatre Block was on the floor beneath the Private Wing, which meant that Esmeralda had to suffer the indignity of a wheelchair to get there. Monique went with her, chatting about nothing much in her adequate English and getting the porter to stop so that Esmeralda could admire the view from the enormous windows in the lift foyer. They were laughing and giggling together over Esmeralda's efforts to speak Dutch as they went towards the theatre unit and when they finally stopped in the plaster room Octavius, waiting for them, observed: "We could hear you from a great distance; you sounded like a school outing."

He smiled as he spoke and stared hard at Monique, who pretended not to see him looking at her, but there was no time to say more, because Mr. Bamstra came in, a plastic ap.r.o.n covering most of his vast person, said hullo in a businesslike manner, whisked Esmeralda out of the chair and on to the table, and signified his intention to start work.

The whole business took a good deal less than the half an hour he had promised. Esmeralda, back in her room, leg elevated and drying, felt vaguely let down; she had actually put her hair up and done her face once more, as well as putting on a particularly attractive white peignoir, lavishly trimmed with lace and ribbons. She hadn't been sure why she had gone to so much trouble; perhaps a subconscious wish that Leslie might appear without warning.

In any case, it had been a sheer waste of time, for of course there was no sign of Leslie, and as for Mr. Bamstra, she reflected sourly, he hadn't looked at her for more than a split second. Upon further reflection, she wondered why that should matter to her.

She was a little excited in the morning. She was a stage nearer being able to walk like everyone else and she put the unwieldy limb to the ground with a feeling of triumph; it felt strange and she would have to get used to balancing on the heel, but it didn't hurt, even though it still looked hideous. By the time Anna came in with her morning tea, she had overcome the strangeness, and even managed, helped by that obliging damsel, to achieve a shower.

It was going to be a hot day again. She plaited her hair and tied it back neatly, put on one of her pretty gowns and went to sit by the window for her breakfast. She had almost finished it when Monique came in with the post; there were quite a few letters, and at the bottom of the little pile, a telegram. She opened it quickly--it was from Leslie and said simply: "Delighted to hear everything OK' and was signed simply Leslie. Hardly the same as a letter, even a Get Well card, but at least he had sent something.

Esmeralda frowned; how did he know that everything was OK? She hadn't told him . the frown cleared and she smiled widely: he would have telephoned her mother, of course--probably he had been telephoning each day and her mother had forgotten to tell her. The thought of him going to so much trouble quite obliterated the disappointment at the businesslike wording of the telegram.

She read it again, sighed a little and opened the first of her letters.

She had visitors too. She was leaning over the tiny balcony outside her window, when the door opened and Loveday came in with Adam on her heels.

"We would have come before," she explained, 'but Thimo said we weren't to; you had to concentrate on getting on to your feet without outside distraction. " She kissed Esmeralda's cheek and laid a glorious bunch of flowers on the bed.

"Adam's got a job to do here, so I came with him. He won't be ready until four o'clock, so do you suppose you can put up with me until then?"

Esmeralda said yes with a fervency which made her visitors look at her intently, but they said nothing, and when Monique came in presently, they all had their coffee together, crowded together in the little room, and presently Adam smiled amiably at Esmeralda, kissed his wife and sauntered away towards the Theatre Block, and minutes later Monique went away too, leaving the two girls alone.

"You look marvelous," said Loveday with more kindness than truth.

"Of course the foot looks like something out of a horror film, doesn't it?

but I hear that Thimo has got it just about perfect--it took him three hours.

"I didn't know. He--he doesn't tell me much and I can't ask questions all the time. There are several things..."

Loveday interrupted her ruthlessly: "He's in the theatre now--there's a particularly tricky case..." She went on to describe it in some detail and at great length, and led the talk firmly away from Thimo, and indeed, contrived not to mention him for the remainder of her visit, which rather frustrated Esmeralda's curiosity.

But she enjoyed Loveday's company. They got on well, the two of them, and Loveday knew exactly what was expected of her. A few minutes before the patients' midday meal was to be served she declared that she had to see someone living close to the hospital and would be back in an hour or so, so that Esmeralda ate undistracted by talk and had time for a rest before Loveday returned, bearing an armful of magazines and a basket of fruit. And later, when Adam joined them, he produced a selection of paperbacks and a jigsaw puzzle.

"Can't have you getting bored," he p.r.o.nounced as he poured himself a cup of cooling tea.

"Of course you'll come to us when Thimo lets you out."

Esmeralda's eyes shone greenly.

"Oh, how wonderful--but really I can't put you to all that trouble. I should go home..."

"Of course you should," agreed Loveday, 'but Thimo won't hear of that for a little while after you leave here; he'll want to keep tabs on you to make quite sure that everything's going as it should. "

"Oh--well, I should love to come and stay with you for a few days--but it seems a bit much. I mean, I hardly know you..."

"Any friend of Thimo's," said Adam, 'is a friend of ours. " He gave her a sudden, dazzling smile.

"We'll be in again," he promised, and looked at his wife.

"Ready, darling?"

It seemed quiet after they had gone. Esmeralda turned on her radio, wrote a letter or two and got out her despised knitting. It had been a very nice day, she reflected; she had had news from Leslie at last, visitors, flowers, books, magazines. there was no reason why she should feel so depressed. She knitted ten rows, hating every one of them, and then bundled her handiwork away and picked up a magazine. If she read it from cover to cover it would take her till supper time, and after that she could go to bed.

She did just that, unconscious of the fact that her ear was c.o.c.ked for the sound of Mr. Bamstra's large feet. An ear c.o.c.ked in vain.

CHAPTER FIVE.

mr Bamstra came the next morning, a few minutes after Esmeralda's breakfast tray had been brought in. He carried a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, and hard on his heels came Anna, on the point of going off duty, bearing a plate of b.u.t.tered toast. His good morning was genial.

"I have rather a long day before me," he explained, his deep voice unhurried, 'and I left home without my breakfast. I don't like Toujke to get up at an unreasonable hour, and Anna is always very kind. "

He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his toast on her tray.

"You look happier than the last time I saw you."

He quite obviously expected an answer, which was a pity, for she was curious about Toujke and it would have been an excellent opportunity to have kept her in the conversation.

"Well, I heard from Leslie."

He selected a piece of toast with care, not looking at her.

"And?"

"It was a telegram."

"How nice--happy now?"

Esmeralda poured more tea.

"Yes, thank you-did you think me very silly?"

He shook his head.

"Heavens, no. I daresay you'll have a long letter by the next post with some quite ordinary explanation as to why he couldn't write sooner."

She nodded rather uncertainly, thinking how placid and safe he looked sitting there, munching his toast--someone one could talk to. "You see, if I were a pretty girl with ordinary feet, I don't suppose I would be so uncertain, would I?" She looked at him anxiously and he smiled encouragingly.

"Now you won't need to feel uncertain any more," he a.s.sured her.

"That foot will be as good as the other one, and it doesn't matter that you're not pretty; you have lovely eyes and a delightful voice. I don't see that you have anything to worry about."

Perhaps it wasn't a very flattering speech, but he hadn't pretended that she was pretty, which made the rest of what he had said ring true. She smiled a little shyly and thanked him.

"Loveday and Adam came to see me," she volunteered.

"I know--Adam comes here fairly often, he's by way of being a very good surgeon. He told me that they were going to ask you to stay with them once you are able to leave here."

"It's very kind of them and I'd love to, only I feel it's an imposition."

Mr. Bamstra had gone to the basin to wash his hands.

"My dear girl, Adam has never been imposed upon in his life; he arranges everything just as he wishes it to be and he never allows anything to get in his way."

She watched him dry his hands on her towel.

"Are you like that, too?"

she wanted to know.

He screwed the towel into a ball and tossed it on to the basin.

"Yes, I am." He spoke seriously and just for a moment Esmeralda glimpsed some one other than the elegant man with his placid face and bland voice; someone who could be ruth less if he wished. But even as she thought that he had become his normal self once more. She listened ta him telling her in an impersonal voice to use her foot as much as she could.

"And if it aches at all," he told her "Zuster van Nelle has something for the pain, so don't hesitate to ask for it." He was already at the door, his "tot ziens'1 was brisk as he disappeared.