What if…? 10

The desk had been a rich source for his research of the past, his own past, old newspapers and magazines with articles about the family, the murder of Rachel Argyle and Jacko’s attempt to murder him, his divorce papers, letters from Mary’s lawyer, a deed of sale for this house, some letters from the University of Oxford…

Obviously, Mary had had a bad conscience towards him because it had been her brother who had shot Philip and damaged his leg. According to the marriage contract, Philip had had no claim on any money from the trust, if he filed for divorce, but nevertheless, Mary had signed over 30000 ₤ to him, and he had bought this property. The shelves in his library were filled with textbooks, and to his relief he had realised that he mastered this subject matter. Philip had looked around and found that he liked the house as it was. Probably Mary would have called his furniture shabby and be ashamed of his untidiness and lack of taste, but here he could breathe and didn’t have to be afraid to make a mess with his food. How often had she chastised him for leaving his plates and cups everywhere and reading while he ate, spilling something on the table. Of course she had been right – sometimes – but he realised that he felt free and happy to be rid of all her complaints and restrictions.

Philip found greeting cards from the Dean and various colleagues, who wished him speedy recovery and a reunion in the next semester. Philip smiled. How often Mary had chastised him for his untidiness, but this time it was an advantage. Like a puzzle, he could put together all the small clues to a picture of the past months. What he didn’t find, however, was something from the one woman he wanted to hear from most – not a single line from Heather. This didn’t prove that she had not been here, but he would find out.

A visit at Leo Argyle the same day had told him what he wanted to know: Heather had saved his life and had been at his bed in the hospital, but afterwards she had not once visited him. Her gaze the day when she had given him the cigarette case – he’d only imagined things. I had been simply wishful thinking; she didn’t care for him. Perhaps he should be glad to know before making an ass of himself. He was not dependant on a wheelchair, but his leg had remained stiff. He was a respectable professor with a middle income and Hester was a rich heiress. Twirling the glass in his hands, he came to a decision: He would make the best of his life, would live every day to its fullest – without Heather. He had got a second chance and he would use it.

Some weeks later he returned to university. He was a man who had a talent to make things interesting, to make history alive. But it were the female students, who were not only interested in the subject matter the young professor taught. Of course they had read the newspapers and knew what had happened. Wasn’t he fascinating and didn’t he look gorgeous, well, apart from the fact that he needed a cane, but this didn’t really matter, did it? And now that he was divorced… They said that he had filed for divorce, but of course his wife was to blame. She was rich and had wanted to get rid of her husband. Philip didn’t seem to notice any of the romantic feelings the students harboured for him. He was kind to each of them without preferences. Perhaps it was too soon after his divorce, but such a wonderful man could not remain single.

“This would be all for today, Beatrice.” Philip signed the report for the Dean and sighed, relieved. Then he handed the folder to his secretary and smiled at her. She was not to blame that he hated this paperwork and he could be glad to have such an able secretary. Furthermore she was a vision of delight, slender and of medium height, blond hair and regular face, a straight nose and dark blue eyes, a little like Mary – ouch! He shouldn’t have thought that; she didn’t deserve this. Philip cleared his throat and shook his head, musing. “I don’t know what I would do without your. I’m helpless with anything concerning organisation.”

Beatrice smiled at him. “That’s what I’m here for, Professor Durrant. Shall I make you a cup of tea before I go? “

“That would be nice, Beatrice,” Philip replied and returned to his books. By now he did most of his preparations at university and not at home. The advantage was that he got drinkable tea and that Beatrice provided him with sandwiches and cake. How come that she was not married? She didn’t wear a ring and always worked overtime if necessary, which made it improbable that there was a man in her life.

Beatrice Stylptich closed the door carefully. She had put a thermos jug and two sandwiches on Philip’s desk and set off. When she had been told that she should become the young professor’s secretary, she couldn’t believe her luck. This man was too good to be true. He didn’t seem to have tempers, although he seemed a bit sad at times; he was friendly and not a bit arrogant. Plus, he seemed to be good at his subject matter. She had seen that he liked what he saw, - men were an open book in this regard – but unfortunately he was a little reserved. As much as she liked this… Beatrice sighed. Perhaps he was only a little shy after his divorce; how dumb could his wife have been to let him go? With a little patience… He didn’t notice how often her gaze followed his slender fingers and lingered at his dark hair, his eyelashes and his wonderful nose. When he dictated a letter, she had to suppress the impulse to stop and just listen to his baritone. He was young and she was around him nearly all day. Soon he would realise that she was not only a good secretary but a woman, the woman for him.

Indecisive, Philip twirled his pen between his fingers. He had wanted to forget Hester, had tried, but obviously his feelings didn’t play along. Perhaps he should write her; perhaps she was waiting for his letter. He could write a thank-you letter and ask her to dinner. Perhaps…Don’t be such a coward, Philip!

Some hours and many rumpled sheets of writing paper later he called for his secretary. “Beatrice, would you mind bringing this to the post office for me?”