As the Crow Flies

Daphne waved her parasol as a hansom approached them. The driver brought the cab to a halt and raised his hat. “Where to, miss?”

“Number 172 Harley Street,” she instructed, before the two women climbed aboard.

He raised his hat again, and with a gentle flick of his whip headed the horse off in the direction of Hyde Park Corner.

“Have you told Charlie yet?” Becky asked.

“No, I funked it,” admitted Daphne.

They sat in silence as the cabbie guided the horse towards Marble Arch.

“Perhaps it won’t be necessary to tell him anything.”

“Let’s hope not,” said Becky.

There followed another prolonged silence until the horse trotted into Oxford Street.

“Is your doctor an understanding man?”

“He always has been in the past.”

“My God, I’m frightened.”

“Don’t worry. It will be over soon, then at least you’ll know one way or the other.”

The cabbie came to a halt outside Number 172 Harley Street, and the two women got out. While Becky stroked the horse’s mane Daphne paid the man sixpence. Becky turned when she heard the rap on the brass knocker and climbed the three steps to join her friend.

A nurse in a starched blue uniform, white cap and collar answered their call, and asked the two ladies to follow her. They were led down a dark corridor, lit by a single gaslight, then ushered into an empty waiting room. Copies of Punch and Tatler were displayed in neat rows on a table in the middle of the room. A variety of comfortable but unrelated chairs circled the low table. They each took a seat, but neither spoke again until the nurse had left the room.

“I—” began Daphne.

“If—” said Becky simultaneously.

They both laughed, a forced sound that echoed in the high-ceilinged room.

“No, you first,” said Becky.

“I just wanted to know how the colonel’s shaping up.”

“Took his briefing like a man,” said Becky. “We’re off to our first official meeting tomorrow. Child and Company in Fleet Street. I’ve told him to treat the whole exercise like a dress rehearsal, as I’m saving the one I think we have a real chance with for later in the week.”

“And Charlie?”

“All a bit much for him. He can’t stop thinking of the colonel as his commanding officer.”

“It would have been the same for you, if Charlie had suggested that the man teaching you accountancy should drop in and check the weekly takings at 147.”

“I’m avoiding that particular gentleman at the moment,” said Becky. “I’m only just putting in enough academic work to avoid being reprimanded; lately my commendeds have become passes, while my passes are just not good enough. If I don’t manage to get a degree at the end of all this there will be only one person to blame.”

“You’ll be one of the few women who’s a bachelor of arts. Perhaps you should demand they change the degree to SA.”

“SA?”

“Spinster of arts.”

They laughed at what they both knew to be a hoary chestnut, as they continued to avoid the real reason they were in that waiting room. Suddenly the door swung open and they looked up to see that the nurse had returned.

“The doctor will see you now.”