Martin's arrival had put it out of her head.
Lovell's account of Martin's tragedy had moved her deeply. Why did these things have to happen? Lovell's comment about the strain on one's religious beliefs, in the face of such senseless horror, was understandable. If he, so secure and ardent in his faith, could feel thus, how easy it was to forgive weaker souls who turned against their religion in such circumstances. Martin appeared to have weathered his own storm remarkably well. Possibly the fact that his work must go on in rain or shine had helped him through the worst. She was glad she knew about it, if she were to see him in the future. When she had said that she would look forward to seeing him again, she had spoken from her heart.
Eileen was wearing the new black nightgown, and looked prettier than ever. She was in good spirits.
"I ought to know, very soon, if I'm coming home next week," she told Miriam. "How I long for it! Tell me, how are you managing?"
Miriam told her the scraps of news, how helpful the children had been, how she had introduced them to two-ball, how beautiful the church had looked decked for Christmas, and, finally, how Lovell had brought Martin to lunch.
Eileen's face lit up.
"I'm so glad! We feel so terribly sorry for him, and we wish we saw more of him. He ought to marry again. He's such a dear."
She looked at Miriam with such an openly speculative eye that it was impossible not to laugh. Eileen laughed too, with such infectious gaiety that the woman in the next bed said:
"She's as good as a tonic is Mrs. Quinn!"
And it was then that Miriam suddenly realized that there was a new neighbor. Mrs. White, of the gray sad countenance, had gone, it seemed, to a colder bed under the Norfolk sky.
"I'm not really matchmaking," said Eileen lightly.
"I should hope not," replied Miriam. "Tell me, how did Christmas Day go in here?"
Eileen was willing to be deflected from the subject of Martin, much to Miriam's relief, and launched into a spirited account of the chief surgeon's prowess in turkey-carving, the morning carols, and the visit of the Mayor and his retinue.
Miriam stayed later than she intended, reveling in Eileen's racy descriptions, and the undoubted fact that she seemed stronger and more relaxed after her few days in hospital.
"You'll have Annie back on Monday," said Eileen, as they said goodbye. "And with any luck, I'll be home very soon after." "We'll have a grand celebration," promised Miriam, fastening her coat, before leaving the warmth of the ward to face the gales outside.
Chapter 10
GOING HOME
T HE WEEKEND passed remarkably peacefully. Miriam felt more confident now that she was becoming accustomed to the routine of the household. One great blessing was that all the family seemed to eat most of the things she put before them, although turkey in a mild cheese sauce was greeted by Jenny with the remark that she "didn't like white gravy." However, her helping vanished, assisted, no doubt, by Hazel's offer to eat her share.
The craze for two-ball persisted, and the two little girls spent any rain-free periods—which were few—bouncing and catching the balls against the wall of the kitchen garden, twirling and clapping as Miriam had shown them.
It seemed a good idea to drive into the market town on Saturday morning, in the hope that a toy shop would be open. They were lucky enough to find a sports shop doing a brisk trade with two girls buying skiing equipment and a scoutmaster buying camping stoves. A basket of rubber balls, red, blue, yellow, and green, drew Hazel and Jenny like a magnet, and they ended by selecting two red and two green.
"I think you should have three each," said Miriam. "You ought to have a spare in case one gets lost."
"But can you afford it?" asked Hazel anxiously. "After Christmas too?"
"I think so," said Miriam.
"But you haven't got a husband to give you any money like Mummy," protested Jenny. "Are you sure?"
"I go to work, you know, so I earn some
Lovell's account of Martin's tragedy had moved her deeply. Why did these things have to happen? Lovell's comment about the strain on one's religious beliefs, in the face of such senseless horror, was understandable. If he, so secure and ardent in his faith, could feel thus, how easy it was to forgive weaker souls who turned against their religion in such circumstances. Martin appeared to have weathered his own storm remarkably well. Possibly the fact that his work must go on in rain or shine had helped him through the worst. She was glad she knew about it, if she were to see him in the future. When she had said that she would look forward to seeing him again, she had spoken from her heart.
Eileen was wearing the new black nightgown, and looked prettier than ever. She was in good spirits.
"I ought to know, very soon, if I'm coming home next week," she told Miriam. "How I long for it! Tell me, how are you managing?"
Miriam told her the scraps of news, how helpful the children had been, how she had introduced them to two-ball, how beautiful the church had looked decked for Christmas, and, finally, how Lovell had brought Martin to lunch.
Eileen's face lit up.
"I'm so glad! We feel so terribly sorry for him, and we wish we saw more of him. He ought to marry again. He's such a dear."
She looked at Miriam with such an openly speculative eye that it was impossible not to laugh. Eileen laughed too, with such infectious gaiety that the woman in the next bed said:
"She's as good as a tonic is Mrs. Quinn!"
And it was then that Miriam suddenly realized that there was a new neighbor. Mrs. White, of the gray sad countenance, had gone, it seemed, to a colder bed under the Norfolk sky.
"I'm not really matchmaking," said Eileen lightly.
"I should hope not," replied Miriam. "Tell me, how did Christmas Day go in here?"
Eileen was willing to be deflected from the subject of Martin, much to Miriam's relief, and launched into a spirited account of the chief surgeon's prowess in turkey-carving, the morning carols, and the visit of the Mayor and his retinue.
Miriam stayed later than she intended, reveling in Eileen's racy descriptions, and the undoubted fact that she seemed stronger and more relaxed after her few days in hospital.
"You'll have Annie back on Monday," said Eileen, as they said goodbye. "And with any luck, I'll be home very soon after." "We'll have a grand celebration," promised Miriam, fastening her coat, before leaving the warmth of the ward to face the gales outside.
Chapter 10
GOING HOME
T HE WEEKEND passed remarkably peacefully. Miriam felt more confident now that she was becoming accustomed to the routine of the household. One great blessing was that all the family seemed to eat most of the things she put before them, although turkey in a mild cheese sauce was greeted by Jenny with the remark that she "didn't like white gravy." However, her helping vanished, assisted, no doubt, by Hazel's offer to eat her share.
The craze for two-ball persisted, and the two little girls spent any rain-free periods—which were few—bouncing and catching the balls against the wall of the kitchen garden, twirling and clapping as Miriam had shown them.
It seemed a good idea to drive into the market town on Saturday morning, in the hope that a toy shop would be open. They were lucky enough to find a sports shop doing a brisk trade with two girls buying skiing equipment and a scoutmaster buying camping stoves. A basket of rubber balls, red, blue, yellow, and green, drew Hazel and Jenny like a magnet, and they ended by selecting two red and two green.
"I think you should have three each," said Miriam. "You ought to have a spare in case one gets lost."
"But can you afford it?" asked Hazel anxiously. "After Christmas too?"
"I think so," said Miriam.
"But you haven't got a husband to give you any money like Mummy," protested Jenny. "Are you sure?"
"I go to work, you know, so I earn some
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