Free Doctor's Orders by Eleanor Farnes Page A

telling herself how much she had missed by moping round the hotel and not going out, or keeping her eyes open.
    She kept them open to such good effect that day that she actually saw Hans leave the hotel and take the path that led, in steep zigzags, through the fir plantation and up the mountain. She took her rest as usual, and was still on the chaise longue in her room when Diana came in to her.
    “Anthea, here is a nice thing! Madame de Luzy has a car this afternoon to take her down to the valley for some shopping, and she has invited us to go with her. We can even stay and dine there, if you would like to.”
    “Oh dear, what a pity it should be .today. I feel so tired.”
    “Do you?” Diana was all quick concern. “Why are you so tired? Have you exhausted yourself in any way? Do you feel unwell?”
    “No. I am all right, but just tired. I would love to go with Madame de Luzy, but I feel so appallingly lethargic. Do you think I could make my excuses?”
    “Of course you can. She thought it would be a welcome change for you; but we can easily arrange it for ourselves another day, when you feel better. I’ll go down and tell her we cannot go.”
    “But you can go,” said Anthea. “There’s no reason for you to stay back—you’re not tired. You’d like to go, wouldn’t you?”
    “I’d love to, but you wouldn’t mind?”
    “Good heavens, no. We see enough of each other, don’t we?”
    She said these words with quite a charming smile. Diana, saying goodbye, thought that really Anthea could be so nice sometimes. Anthea even came down and saw them go, waving goodbye to them and wishing them a good time; and when the car had started its cautious way down the slope, she turned and made her way across the plateau, and took the path that climbed through the woods to the top of the mountain.
    It was very cool in the dim shade of the woods, and this was as well, for Anthea found the constant climb both wearying and warming. She was not used to walking any distance, and very soon her legs ached, she was out of breath, and repeatedly had to stop and rest. There was no view, for the tall trees, their trunks straight and dark, their tops moving only slightly in the breeze, obscured everything. It was eerie and rather depressing, she thought, for she was a child of the town and the bright lights, and had rarely been quite alone in as isolated a position as this one. Backwards and forwards she went, with the zigzagging of the path, getting very tired and quite breathless, and even beginning to wonder if it was worth it, simply on the chance of seeing Hans.
    She came out, quite suddenly, to a sunlit clearing, and there he was, loading logs on to a long sled. He was wearing a bright blue shirt, long trousers and heavy boots; and his dark hair was tousled and wind-blown.
    “Grass Gott, Fraulein,” he called. “You have walked a long way.”
    She made her way towards him, walking carefully over the rough ground.
    “Oh yes, and I am so tired,” she said.
    He straightened himself and looked at her, and a smile curved his mouth and crinkled his eyes.
    “Sit and rest,” he advised. “You walk hardly at all, and then suddenly you walk a very long way. That is not good. See, I will make a comfortable place for you.” He took up a branch of fir, with the needles still green upon it, and swept a place clear of small branches and twigs; then arranged some of the flatly-spreading green sprays into a cushion, which he covered with his jacket. “So,” he said, “you will find that soft and comfortable.”
    Anthea sank down on to it gratefully and gracefully.
    “Lovely,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
    He smiled down, and their eyes met. She made no attempt to withdraw her glance, but allowed it to rest in admiration on him. He realized, with a slight shock, that this was something more than the politeness attendant on a casual encounter, and he straightened himself and looked away.
    “I must get on with my work,” he