I checked the boiler. ‘Fine. You should have forty minutes.’
‘Then I will love and leave you.’ He twisted me round and kissed me. ‘Old habits die hard with me, sweetie,’ he said softly, ‘and you are very sweet.’ He went up to his room, and did not reappear until Sister Mary was back.
My bed in the spare room was comfortable, but I did not sleep well that night. I woke with the light, and lay listening to the birds and trying not to listen to my thoughts. I got up directly I heard Sister Mary moving. We had breakfast alone. She had thought Nick looked very tired when she took in his early tea, and had insisted he stayed in bed until mid-morning. She gave me his profuse apologies and detailed instructions for the painting of her bedroom. She was moving into the spare room until her walls dried.
Nick joined me directly he was up and blew me a kiss from the doorway. ‘Take that to go on with as my electric razor has fused. Do I look like a scrubbing-brush?’
‘You’re too fair for one night’s growth to show,’ I replied, and we both smiled over-brightly.
His razor also gave him an excuse to go out to the village ironmonger, who dealt with everything from broken razors to broken combine harvesters. I did not hear him come back, and was unaware he was watching me from the doorway again, till he asked, ‘Why so grave, sweet maid? Problem?’
I blinked. I had been thinking about the Elkroyds. Brown-plus-E was seeing Betty privately at noon. Now. ‘Yes. A big problem, but only mine indirectly. It concerns the wife of one of my patients.’
‘Why? Is he in love with you, darling?’
It was not his fault it jarred. ‘No. It’s a little more serious than that.’
‘And you don’t call that serious? Ah, well! No doubt it all depends on how one looks on these things ‒ which reminds me I’ve promised Sister Mary to look into her oven.’ He removed himself and stayed out of my way until Sister Mary called me to get ready for lunch.
She sent us into the sitting-room to drink sherry while she dished up in peace. Nick was now looking as strained as I felt. We talked about the weather, and, as we had never made small talk together, we were very bad at it. Desperately we agreed it had been the most wonderful summer we remembered, that the forecast was excellent for Monday, and the Bank Holiday traffic and accidents were bound to beat all records. The sitting-room door was ajar, and we could hear Sister Mary in the kitchen. Her hearing was not perfect, but it was good enough to prevent my starting the conversation we should have to have before the day ended. She joined us as Nick was saying he thought I should leave fairly early for my return journey as the trains were bound to be crowded.
‘I don’t think the dear girl need worry too much, Nick,’ she protested. ‘She will be travelling against the main stream. Ready, my dears? Come and eat!’
Her meeting was in the early afternoon. As we sat down I made up my mind to use that time to straighten things out with Nick. I could no longer go on leaving our affair in the air. I had seen that since yesterday he had been as worried about us as I was myself, if, I was afraid, for a very different reason. I hated the idea of hurting him, but to keep up a pretence would hurt him much more in the long run.
I noticed Sister Mary studying Nick several times during our meal. After we had eaten she said he must take a rest before tea. ‘I have allowed you to do far too much. You are looking worn out.’ She turned to me for support. ‘Do you not agree, dearie?’
Nick protested hotly, but I had to back her up, and he had to give in, grumbling. ‘I’ve hardly seen anything of you, Anna.’
Sister Mary said he must not be so impatient, as she hoped I should pay many more visits while he was with her. ‘You young people are always so impatient. You have to reach my age to discover the young are the only people who can afford the time for patience. Off you go, dear boy! No ‒ no clearing! We can see to all that.’
I helped her with the dishes, and then went back to my painting. As my immediate personal problem had to wait, I let my thoughts go back to Barny’s and the Elkroyds. Browne and Muir were seeing Tom together at two. I looked at my watch. Another ten minutes.
Sister Mary looked in to say she was off and Nick was asleep. ‘Rest is all he needs, dearie. He has had so many visitors apart from yourself.’
‘Have I tired him, Sister?’
‘At this stage all convalescents tire very easily, as you must know. You mustn't blame yourself, dearie. It’s my fault for allowing him so much excitement since his discharge. We had Jill the whole week-end, then that tea-party on Sunday. Dr. Graveny was down on Monday. Nick’s Secretary and one of his senior partners called on Tuesday. On Wednesday afternoon he would go alone by taxi to his follow-up clinic and was so late back! He most thoughtfully rang me from Astead to say he had met an old friend and would be out to supper. That worried me for his health, but he’s not a child, so there was nothing I could do. He sounded so happy and cheerful, and he did look very well on his return. Tch, tch, tch.’ She clicked her tongue against her teeth. ‘It is always so hard to steer the right course with convalescents. If one lets them do too much they grow overtired; if one keeps them too quiet they grow depressed ‒ which does no good at all!’
Having her take full responsibility made me feel hollow with guilt. ‘Sister, you have been wonderful to him. I’m afraid this really is my fault ‒’
‘Nonsense, dearie! He is so fond of you, and you have been so good! I only hope all this hard work on your day off is not going to overtire you as well. Miss Wardell told me how busy you all are in Observation and with some very distressing patients.’
‘That’s certainly true. Sister.’ I had another glance at the time. Five to two. The pundits would be with Wardell now. Then I realised what else Sister Mary had said. ‘You’ve seen Miss Wardell lately?’
‘Oh, yes, dearie. She was here to tea on Sunday. And I have met her in Astead recently on several occasions. I believe she has friends in the town. Now I must be off. I shall be back just after four.’
I finished the last wall mechanically. My mind was wholly occupied in darting from Tom Elkroyd to Sabby’s visit here on Sunday, and why neither Nick, Jill, Peter Graveny, nor Sabby herself had mentioned it to me.
Next I thought about last Wednesday, and how my ward sister had changed her off-duty to have that as a half-day. Robert had been in Eyes that afternoon, and on call in the A.R.R. that night. That was the afternoon he had asked me out to tea and said he had to talk to me after seeing Wardell in the canteen.
Outside the village church clock chimed the half-hour. Tom should know by now. My thoughts were shooting backward and forward some time later when they were interrupted by a knock on the back door. I went down at once to prevent Nick’s being woken. It was the village grocer’s vanman with Sister Mary’s weekly order. He carried the box into the kitchen and waited while I checked the contents, as he wanted his box back.
‘All there? Ta, miss.’ He picked up the empty box and surveyed the kitchen with an appreciative air. ‘Never looked neat like this when that Mr. Martin was here. And how would he and his new lady be doing, miss? Got to Australia, yet?’
‘I’m afraid I haven’t heard. I hope they are doing very well.’
He seemed surprised. ‘Isn’t that young Mr. Dexter still here, miss? I thought I saw him up the street, and Bill, over the ironmonger’s, said as his eye was getting along nicely. Shocking business that, eh, miss?’
‘Very.’ I was amused by this new example of the efficiency of the Wylden grapevine. ‘He’s been very lucky.’
‘Like as they say, miss ‒ the good are lucky! But I reckon as Mr. Dexter can’t be doing with much letter-writing yet, and that Mr. Martin never was a one for writing more than a postcard ‒ and the fuss he’d make about that! You’d not credit it, miss! He never had a stamp in the house, and would he remember to buy one up the post-office? Not Mr. Martin! He’d always step across to The Swan ‒ I used to work there afore I took on delivering for Mr. Greenstreet ‒ “George”, he’d say, �
��let’s have one of them whatsits. I got to write to thingummy if I can put my hands on his address”.’ He smiled indulgently. ‘Never got a word nor a name right, he didn’t! I reckon as now he’s probably forgotten his nephews and the address! And what with young Mr. Dexter’s being poorly, he’d not be up to writing to his uncle. Miss! Them’s eggs! Careful!’
‘Sorry. All safe.’ I put down the carton. ‘Mr. Dexter’s uncle is Mr. Martin?’
‘That’s right, miss. Didn’t you know?’ He found that very funny. ‘Mr. Dexter must be another absent-minded gentleman like his uncle, seem’ly! That Mr. Martin’d forget his own name! He never got mine right. I’m Bert. There, it takes all sorts as I always say.’ He made for the door. ‘You might remember me to Mr. Dexter, miss. He’ll know me ‒ Bert from over at The Swan. Always had a chat and a laugh we did when he came down ‒ not that that was often, mind. But a real cheerful young gentleman is that Mr. Dexter, and they say as he’s ever so clever. Mr. Martin was real made up with his job he’d been doing building the new St. Barnabas’. You’ll be from the hospital, miss? Thought as much. I remember when you was up at the House. Used to see you on the back of another young lady’s scooter. She keeping nicely? That’s good. Fine hospital, St. Barnabas’, they say. But that Mr. Martin ‒ do you think he could ever remember the name? “that hospital place, St. Whatsit” he’d call it. I dunno! It’s a good thing he’s got his new lady to look after him now ‒ but I mustn’t be keeping you, miss. Much obliged. Good afternoon!’
I sat at the kitchen table and stared at the groceries. I wondered if Sister Mary knew. I suspected she did, knowing the village. She would not let it worry her any more than it now worried me. Once it would have worried me a great deal, and that, of course, was why Nick had never told me. Nor, I remembered, had Robert. He must always have known since he had acted for Mr. Norris in the sale. He had seen Nick with me at Sister Mary’s party. He had never said anything to make me connect Nick with Mr. Martin. That was, I thought carefully, very good of him.
I was still sitting there when the church clock struck four. Sister Mary would soon be back. I put away the groceries, filled the kettle, then went up to wake Nick before plugging it in.
He was too sound asleep to hear my knock. He lay on his side on top of his bedclothes, his fair hair was untidy, and his unguarded face had a faint flush and looked as young as a schoolboy’s. In sleep his mouth still curved good-humouredly, and the rather weak lines of his jaw, which I had always tried not to see, were more apparent. Watching him I felt no more annoyed than I should have done with a child who kept up a ‘let’s pretend’ game too long. He could not help being what he was, and he had some very good qualities to compensate for those he lacked. Unfortunately, at least to me, those he lacked were important.
I did not want to wake him suddenly, as that would hurt his eye. I put a hand on his forehead as if dealing with a patient. ‘Nick, wake up. Tea-time.’
He stirred and reached for me, his eyes still closed. ‘I like your hand there, Sabby. I always like your hand there. You mustn’t leave me ‒’ Then he opened his mind. His stare was hostile until he forced a smile. ‘Angel, I was dreaming. Sister back?’
‘Not yet.’ I moved away. ‘I am about to make tea.’
‘Grand.’ He sat on the edge of his bed and pushed back his hair. ‘How’s the painting?’
‘Finished.’ Enough time had been wasted so I wasted no more. ‘Nick, there’s something I have to tell you, and don’t interrupt. It’s just this. I’ve a hunch you are still in love with Sabby Wardell. If you are ‒ I’m not in love with you, either. No, I’m saying this wrong ‒ what I mean is, whether you are or not, I don’t love you. I like you enormously, but that’s the lot.’
He was gazing at me as if I was speaking a foreign language. He said stiffly, ‘Darling, don’t pretend; I know how you feel about me ‒’
‘You did. Not now.’
He was quite indignant. ‘I wish you’d be honest! It’ll be much easier for you.’
It would also be much easier for him to believe I loved him, as apart from soothing his ego, that would help him to explain away his behaviour as a necessary act aimed at letting me down gently. I could scarcely hold that against him when, since yesterday, I had been doing much the same myself.
‘I am being honest. I’m in love with someone else.’
‘Are you?’ He stood up. ‘It’s that patient chap you keep waffling about! Anna, you devil! Of all the two-timers! What about me? Have you forgotten we are supposed to be engaged?’
‘No,’ I said dryly, ‘but I thought you had. It got lost in your blackout ‒ or didn’t it?’
He realised what he had said and flushed with annoyance. Then he saw the funny side and took my hands. ‘Hell, no! What’s the use? That blackout lark was just bloody handy.’ He sat on the edge of the bed, still holding my hands. ‘How did you guess?’
‘Something Sister Mary said. Why didn’t you tell me? Not to hurt me? That’s what’s been stopping me.’
He drew me closer, sliding his arms round my waist and resting his head against me. ‘It’s your fault for being so bloody attractive. When you are around you do things to me. I don’t know why I’m not in love with you.’
It was not the time to give him a biology lecture, so I suggested he told me about Sabby. ‘When did it start up again?’
‘My first week-end in hospital. She came to see me. She could only stay a few minutes. She took one train down and the next back. I asked her to come again. She did.’
‘How? She was so seldom off.’
‘Don’t I know it!’
‘Was it she who told you about Jill and Marcus?’
‘Yes. She likes old Jilly. She wanted to do her a good turn. I shouldn’t tell you this’ ‒ he looked up ‒ ‘but it made her feel less hellish about you. You’ve worried her.’
I let that one pass. ‘You two engaged?’
He grinned ruefully. ‘I asked her last Sunday. She said I must put you in the picture first. I was still wondering how to when your last letter arrived.’ He paused. ‘She came down again on Wednesday. She said if I didn’t tell you while you were here she would. I meant to ‒ I kept putting it off. I loathe fuss-scenes. I didn’t want to hurt you. It never dawned on me you were so involved with this man in Observation.’ He sighed. ‘Poor sweetie.’
That was part of the truth, if not the whole truth, so I let that one go. ‘Nick, there’s one thing I don’t get. What about Robert Gordon’s angle?’
‘Rob?’ His face lit with laughter. ‘Darling, Rob Gordon must look after his own affairs, which from the little I know of him he’ll do nicely. You don’t have to waste any time worrying about old Rob!’
I still had a soft spot for Nick and probably always would, but that I found unforgivable. ‘That’s a monstrous thing to say! Have you forgotten what you owe Robert? That Sabby’s been playing him along? Think what this’ll do to him!’ I disentangled myself from his arms. ‘You called me a two-timer! How about you? And Sabby Wardell?’
He made me angrier by rocking with laughter. ‘I’m sorry, sweetie,’ he spluttered, ‘and I know I’ve been dumb, but you are the dumbest redhead in the business ‒ don’t run away.’ He followed me on to the small landing at the head of the stairs and grabbed me again. ‘Let me tell you something.’ But he was laughing too much to go on. He clung to me, and we rocked together.
I was too furious to use my head and my old tears routine. ‘Nick! Let me go!’
‘Darling, don’t be mad at me!’ He controlled his laughter with difficulty. ‘You know I adore you, even though I am going to marry Sabby just as soon as she’s free, so just listen ‒’
‘I gather Anna doesn’t want to listen to you, Nick. Let her go!’ Robert’s voice directly behind us was as cold as it was unexpected. ‘Or Marcus Stock may have another rush job on his hands.’
Nick dropped his arms like stones as Sister Mary appeared at the foot of the stairs. ‘You’ve found them, Mr. Gor
don? Good. Come on down to tea, my dears! Isn’t this jolly? Mr. Gordon has just driven over from his godfather with some books for me, and I have asked him to join us. He is going to drive you back, dearie, which will be so much nicer than the train. Isn’t this a lovely surprise?’
‘Lovely,’ I agreed weakly, looking at Robert. He was looking at Nick. Nick was looking at the floor. Both men breathed as if they had been running. ‘How do you come to be off this afternoon, Robert?’
He looked my way absently as if he had forgotten I was there. I had never seen him or any other man so angry. He held out his left palm and exposed a broad criss-cross of strapping.
‘A cut in the theatre?’ I asked.
‘The poor boy has an acid burn,’ explained Sister Mary. ‘There was a little accident in Casualty, but it could have been much worse, as you will hear over tea. Come on, children.’ She smiled up at us. ‘We shall have a really merry little party, shan’t we?’
Chapter Twelve
TRUST TOM TO SEE RIGHT
Sister Mary blamed our lack of appetite on the heat. ‘London must have been intolerable today! Small wonder that ether bottle exploded. As Casualty is not yet air-conditioned, I am only surprised a great many more did not go up.’
Robert smiled faintly. ‘To be strictly honest, Sister Mary, there was a double explosion in Cas this morning, as while this heat lasts all the ether bottles are supposed to live in the fire sand buckets unless in use. A dresser had taken out the one that burst and forgotten to put it back. I doubt he’ll forget again.’
‘Oh! Oh!’ Sister Mary smiled sympathetically. ‘The poor boy! He has to learn! What a mercy no one was hit by flying glass!’
I asked, ‘How did ether give you an acid burn?’
‘The blast blew open an acid cupboard and some of the bottles pitched out. The S.S.O. and I were standing near and grabbed them. Unfortunately I chose to grab the nitric upside down, so the stopper fell out. The S.S.O.’s reaction was most impressive. He had emptied a stock bottle of meths over my hand before I’d felt much. I’ve no more than a second-degree burn, thanks to him. I feel a fraud being off, but he told me to stay off for the rest of the day, so here I am.’
A House for Sister Mary Page 19