The Wonder Worker Read Online Free PDF

during the war, and now she was a “sitting tenant,” still paying a pittance but safe from any attempt the landlords might make to evict her. For a time I’d hoped I could inherit the tenancy under one of the Rent Acts, but her solicitor had told me there were legal difficulties which made this hope an impossible dream.
    The cottage stood amidst the little network of Georgian streets by Smith Square. It was a pleasant area but unfashionable. Not far away the yuppies were driving property prices sky-high in Pimlico and the mega-rich were busy refurbishing Belgravia, but Westminster, still mainly a mass of council flats, hostels for derelicts and pieds-à-terre for MPs, was hardly the place for anyone keen to display wealth and status.
    Big Ben was striking as I sat on the edge of the chair by Aunt’s bed. Often inaudible in the house during the day when the traffic was at its heaviest, the clock seemed surprisingly loud at night. Sometimes,in those dark hours before the dawn, I even fancied I could hear that gigantic mechanism ticking.
    “There’s a clergyman coming to see you,” I said to Aunt, “but don’t worry, he’s not wet or stupid. I met him today by chance.”
    I paused but Aunt’s gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, her blue eyes vacant. She had once been tall and robust but now she was thin and wizened, her hands like claws, her skin barely concealing her skull.
    “This man has a Guild church in the City,” I said, waving in front of her the pamphlet Nicholas had given me before I had left his office. “Remember the Guild churches and their special ministries which were started up after the war? They’re closed on weekends but open during the week to serve the workers in the City.” I pointed to the picture on the front of the pamphlet. “The church is called St. Benet’s-by-the-Wall—it was built by Wren, damaged in the Blitz and completely rearranged inside just a few years ago when the crypt was converted into something called a Healing Centre. It stands in Egg Street just south of the Barbican.”
    No response. Nothing. I was just wondering idly if I’d get a reaction by shouting that I wanted to leap into bed with Nicholas and make love to him from dusk till dawn, when the doorbell rang and at once my heart thudded in a way which recalled Big Ben booming the hour. Adjusting my tent-dress I checked my make-up in the mirror and hurried downstairs to the hall.
    He was not alone. Immediately I felt a pang of disappointment, but a second later I was despising myself for my stupidity. Had I really hoped for a cosy chat over Aunt’s almost-corpse? How pathetic! Pulling myself together I did my best to smile in welcome as I registered the fact that the woman with him was the bottle-blonde who had attended me when I’d fainted.
    “I should have warned you that we always work in pairs when we’re paying calls,” said Nicholas after the preliminary greetings had been exchanged, “and in this case, as your aunt’s so ill, it seemed wise to bring a doctor with me.”
    “Val Fredericks,” said the blonde briskly to me, and gave my hand a quick clasp before stepping past him into the hall. “I’m Nicholas’s partner under the Acorn Trust.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Just an organisation which encourages priests and doctors to work together,” said Nicholas, following her across the threshold and closingthe door behind him, “but never mind that for the moment. Now, before we start I’d like to clarify a few details with you and Val would like to look at the patient. It is all right if she sits with your aunt while we talk?”
    “I won’t examine her,” said the blonde quickly. “That would be trespassing on ground already covered by your aunt’s doctors, but it would be helpful if I could observe her for a couple of minutes.”
    Having no objection I showed Nicholas into the sitting-room and took Val upstairs. To Aunt I said: “This is Dr. Fredericks. She’s a colleague of that