Change of Duty

by Marjorie Norrell

  She laughed, and only afterward did Hilary realize just how cleverly she had been made to feel at ease by Laura’s casual chatter about the house and garden, and all the time the dark eyes had been studying the girl seated beside her, so that Hilary felt she was once more under the scrutiny of a woman as wise as Matron Rowland herself.

  “Ah, here comes Kate with the tea,” Laura Vale chattered on as the door opened and Miss Lusty appeared, pushing a trolley before her. “Simon will be down in a moment. He seems to know when tea’s being brewed! I don’t see much of him until this hour on Saturday evenings,” she confessed. “He’s usually up in his study, working on new ideas for the store or going back in history to the trading story of England. I sometimes think he can reel it all off, from Henry the Seventh and his multitudinous agreements that did so much to make us a nation of shopkeepers onwards! But he loves that side of Vale’s, and I’m so pleased he does. I’m also pleased we have such a capable young man for manager, too! His sister is a friend of yours, I believe?”

  “I ... I think so,” Hilary said with some confusion. She and Monica were friends, but Monica was also her superior at St. David’s, and so far their professional lives and their private lives had been kept severely apart. They had to be, living in the nurses’ residence as Hilary normally did, but she scarcely expected Simon’s grandmother to appreciate that! She was really startled, therefore, when Laura nodded meaningfully as she began to pour the tea.

  “Jane Rowland wouldn’t like to hear me say anything like that,” she chuckled, and a swift mental picture of Matron’s face, had she overheard, made Hilary laugh, too.

  “It’s all very well on duty, and I am well aware that a certain amount of discipline and convention is more than necessary in a well-run hospital, but surely Jane, too, remembers that her nursing staff are human beings, and that being so, they have friendships that have nothing whatsoever to do with their daily work. Do you get along with her, nurse?”

  “With Matron?” Hilary’s eyebrows shot up as she strove to answer the question honestly, then she nodded.

  “So far.” A small smile quirked the corners of her mouth. “The only grumble I’ve really had since I went to St. David’s is the one I’m ‘enjoying’ now,” she confessed, adding, as Laura looked puzzled, “I really didn’t think it necessary for me to undertake only light duties for a whole year!” she explained.

  “It’s a fortunate thing for Vale’s that Jane decided this was the best thing for you to do,” Laura said comfortingly. “And a year isn’t so very long out of a lifetime, child. When you reach my age the years seem like days. No time is long enough for all the things one still has to do!” Her placid brow wrinkled for a moment as she reflected how much simpler her own life would be if Simon would only take an interest in some pleasant, intelligent young woman—in someone like the girl seated beside her, perhaps—but he always laughed at her. He seemed very pleased to imagine that his young and handsome manager was showing a genuine and personal interest in the nurse at Vale’s. Perhaps, the old lady thought philosophically, a romance in the store, and so close to the management, might prove infectious! If only this child were a few years older...

  “Good evening, nurse.” Hilary turned as Simon entered the room, and Laura, who adored him, brightened up more than ever and began at once to tell him of some new idea she had thought of for the summer sale.

  Hilary relaxed and listened to them. She was fascinated to discover just how much the elderly lady knew of the workings of the vast store, of all its departments and of her plans for more and more branches along the same lines to be opened in other towns and, she was startled to hear, overseas, in due course.

  Simon did not talk a great deal. He listened, put in an intelligent comment or question here and there, but for the most part appeared to be absorbing everything his grandmother had to say. Hilary was surprised until, during a lull in the conversation, she remembered that Mark had said that old Mrs. Vale had helped found the store, along with her husband. “She knows more about the place, the folks and the way things are run, than anyone except one other director and myself.” Listening to her now, Hilary could well believe all this, just as she realized that Nita’s comment, too, had been true.

  “She depends such a great deal on young Mr. Dawson,” Nita had said, “and he’s a good man ... has just the same sort of feeling for Vale’s old Mr. Vale had, one that Mr. Simon won’t have if he lives to be a hundred. Mr. Dawson seems to know just what will catch the public’s fancy and what won’t go, not even if you gave it away! There are some lines like that, you know! He says it’s just a flair or something—I don’t quite know what he means by that, except that it’s not often he makes a mistake!”

  “Well,” Simon said, evidently determined to draw Hilary into the conversation somehow. He smiled at her as he said, “We can’t have Hilary totting up productivity, I suppose, Gran,” he joked, “but we can sincerely say she’s been the means of our not losing half so many man-hours of work in the short time she’s been with us.”

  Dinner was simple, tasteful and satisfying, but afterward, when Monica asked what they had eaten, Hilary couldn’t remember.

  Later they sat with coffee in the lounge, and Simon put on a stack of records that played quietly in the background. The light classical melodies so beloved by his grandmother spilled their serenity into the quiet of the room.

  And all the time the conversation flowed steadily. Hilary was aware that the old lady was skilfully guiding it so that, without seeming to be curious, she had Hilary’s complete background from as far back as the girl could remember. Normally, she would have hated to talk so much about herself, but there was something so quietly sympathetic about Laura Vale that it became a pleasure to talk to her about all the things she had hugged to herself ever since she and Iris had been left alone in the world. At any other time she would have said nothing more than was absolutely necessary, saving all comment, all question, until she and Iris were together again. Now it seemed completely natural to discuss things with this quiet, older woman who nodded from time to time or asked another question.

  Hilary only realized the lateness of the hour when Kate joined them, bringing a laden trolley, with a piping hot coffee and an assortment of small cakes. Then, with genuine regret, she announced that she really must be going.

  “I’ll drive you back to the store,” Simon offered. “Hang on, Hilary, it won’t take a minute to get the car out.”

  “I’m not going back to the store tonight, Mr. Simon.” Hilary’s words arrested him as he hurried to the door. “My sister came home last night for half-term. We stay together when she has any holiday ... in our own home on St. John’s Road.”

  “Near Broomhall Park, Simon,” his grandmother explained. “Greenhill Rise is just off the top of your road, isn’t it, my dear?” she asked Hilary, who nodded.

  “I knew I was right!” The old lady sounded triumphant. “I don’t get out that way very often now, but when I first came to Hortown there were woods and fields all around there. I remember saying so when Simon told me Aida Everett had taken a flat in Greenhill Rise. You said that, didn’t you, dear?” she persisted.

  “Yes.” Simon frowned. “Her flat’s in what’s left of the old Hall. I think it’s a shame the way the whole place was left like that and then finally sold to be made into flats! I remember airmen living there during the war. Every time I came on leave there seemed to be a fresh set of young men there, all splendid chaps...”

  “So were you all,” his grandmother interrupted, knowing how depressed he grew if she allowed him to think too much of those days when it had seemed doubtful that Hortown—maybe the country itself—would survive. “Come again, Hilary,” she invited, surprising the girl by leaning forward and planting a light kiss on her cheek. “I do wish we had known about your sister’s arrival. Simon would have brought her along too!”

  “Iris isn’t very sociable,” Hilary said with some difficulty. “She’ll have a lot of work t
o get through in half-term—she always has. And she always has at least six serious books she insists she must read before she goes back to college. We had a regular get-together last night, catching up on all the news we both had to share now that we’re together again.”

  “Well,” Laura said as she accompanied them to the door, “do try to persuade her to accompany you here before she goes back ... or to make arrangements to come with you the next time she has a vacation. We would so love to meet her, Simon and I.”

  Hilary murmured grateful thanks and promised to ask Iris if she would care to visit.

  “I’ll get the car while Kate’s helping you with your coat,” Simon said briskly. “Won’t be a moment.” Smiling, Hilary left the house and walked down the driveway to where the sleek gray Bentley was parked. Simon was holding open the door for her.

  “You’re not a speed nut, I trust?” he asked as he tucked a rug about her knees. “I always try to keep within the limits of the law.”

  “I wish everyone did just that!” Hilary said briefly, thinking of the brief term she had done on Casualty and of the crash on the highway when her friends had been brought so close to death. “It’s a far more sensible way to drive.”

  “Do you drive, Hilary?” was the next question, and she explained in brief detail how, when Iris had gone so far from home, it had been decided the sensible thing was to part with the old family car, although both girls had been taught to drive it.

  “Good license?” Simon shot at her. “I mean current?” Hilary, mystified, answered “yes” to both questions, and was even more astonished when he asked her abruptly if she thought she could handle one of the mini vans used by Vale’s for the delivery of small orders.

  “I ... think so,” she said hesitantly, wondering if he might be going to ask her to undertake part-time deliveries when she was not too busy in the first-aid center. “Why, Simon?”

  “Just thought you might like the use of one of them at weekends or whenever your sister’s home,” he said, but although there was nothing whatsoever in his tone to suggest such a thing, Hilary immediately began to worry that taking her home had somehow interfered with his program for the evening, and as such was resented.

  “There was no need to bring me home, you know,” she said stiffly, and after a moment of startled silence while the implication of what she must have thought sunk into his conscious mind, Simon spoke again, abruptly, almost angrily.

  “I wanted to take you home, Hilary,” he said firmly. “It was just that I thought that, with some means of transport, you might care to run over to St. David’s and see some of your friends, without the inconvenience of waiting for the extremely spasmodic bus service, or the expense of a taxi. I also thought that perhaps you had a special friend you might like to take out for a drive, when the weekends are warmer. That’s all.”

  “Thank you.” Hilary felt snubbed, although there was absolutely no reason that she should. “That’s very kind. Sally and I might take you at your word before long, but I think I ought to have one or two trips on my own first.” Her natural good humor came to her aid as always. “I haven’t driven anything for some time,” she explained, “and I’d hate to look like a fool, or to frighten Sally.”

  “Then you’d like a van, weekends, or whenever you want it?” Simon pressed the point and, when she nodded, added that he would select the van most recommended by the chief mechanic at Vale’s transport department.

  “Turn here,” Hilary directed as they came halfway up Greenhill Rise. “We’re the white gate just ahead.”

  Before Simon had switched off the engine the door of the house opened and a tall, slender girl stood silhouetted against the light from the hall behind her. Simon, accompanying Hilary along the short path, was struck by the very graceful, erect carriage of the stranger, and when she spoke, just saying “That you, Hilary?” his attention was arrested by the low, musical sound of her voice. He didn’t know whether or not Hilary would invite him inside, but he moved a little nearer ...and hoped.

  “I thought it better to bring Miss Bell home myself,” he began. “I’m Simon Vale,” he added, still hoping.

  Iris Bell laughed gently, and to Simon that gentle laughter set the seal on his determination to know more about this newcomer. Would her face, her thoughts, her ideas, her mind match up to the attractiveness of her form, her voice and her laughter? So many women, he thought inconsequentially, lost all that made them attractive the moment they spoke or laughed.

  “Won’t you come inside, Mr. Vale?” she asked, delighting him further by the first full sentence he had heard her speak. “We can introduce ourselves properly then. I’m Iris Bell and—” again the delightfully gentle laughter “—I’ve just made some coffee. It would take Hilary and myself the rest of the night to drink the amount I’ve made. Would you care to join us, Mr. Vale?”

  The alacrity with which Simon accepted would have delighted the heart of old Mrs. Vale. Whenever she had tried to persuade him that he owed it to himself to marry and produce a family, he had usually escaped as quickly as possible from the vicinity.

  Now he followed his hostess into the small but attractively furnished sitting room, accepting Iris’s invitation to browse among the many books housed in the low bookcases that lined the room.

  Hilary was content to leave the two of them alone to get to know one another better. Iris had possessed little patience with any man since that awful period during her last year at university, when she had been jilted. Since then, although there had never been a lack of admirers around the Bell girls, Iris had always kept herself aloof.

  Hilary relaxed in the comfort of an old and well-loved chair, listening only abstractedly as the other two talked on, discussing books, plays, films, poetry and ideas that attracted both of them. She did not take much notice of the time, and when Simon at last, and with obvious reluctance, rose to leave, she realized with a sense of shock that the two of them must have been talking for more than two hours!

  Simon, slamming shut the door of the car, looked back at the tall figure once more silhouetted against the light from the hall, and lifted his hand in a farewell salute. Iris returned his signal, her heart lighter than it had been for years ... but she would not allow herself to dream again ... not yet!

  Engrossed in one another, neither of them saw the two women walking briskly up Greenhill Rise, a too-fat spaniel trailing disinterestedly behind them, but Aida Everett’s hold on the leash tightened. When she saw Simon, she wondered how best she could turn what she believed she had seen to her own advantage and to the downfall of the pretty nurse whose arrival at Vale’s appeared to have sounded the death knell of so many of her own plans.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Aida Everett walked home slowly. Since the last unpleasant scandal she had only gone for walks in the late evening if accompanied by unattractive if useful Miss Thornhill who lived in the flat next door to Aida’s and who worked at home as an alterationist for Vale’s.

  Brenda Thornhill was greatly lacking in imagination, and she saw nothing in the least odd in her companion’s behavior when Aida pulled her into the welcome shadow made by the tree and literally hissed her into silence.

  “What was all that about, then?” Brenda asked stolidly as the car drove off and the door of number four was closed and locked for the night. “Someone you know?”

  “Slightly.” Aida wasn’t given to confiding in anyone, and Brenda was the very last person in whom she would have confided her own hopes where Mark Dawson was concerned. Others had guessed, of course. In fact, she frowned, remembering, on one occasion she had been so angry with Nita Dewhirst that she had vowed openly that “one day I’ll be Mrs. Mark Dawson. You see if that’s not true.”

  Then the owner of the store had the ridiculous idea that a nurse on hand all the time would be an asset to Vale’s! Finally, this young, pretty nurse from St. David’s Hospital had arrived to upset Aida’s peace of mind completely.

  She did not mind if Simon Vale happened to
be interested in the nurse, as it appeared he must be. What she did mind was that Mark Dawson was more than evidently interested in the girl and, Aida’s mouth curled in a sardonic smile, he wouldn’t be very pleased to hear that his boss had been calling on his would-be girl friend, and staying at her home until all hours of the night.

  She did not question what she had seen, nor ever seek to confirm it by asking any questions of Brenda who would have been sure to assess the height, figure measurements and so on of the girl, if she had really looked at her. No, Aida had no doubt whatsoever that the girl at the door of number four had been the girl who occupied the first-aid center at Vale’s these days. The girl who used the flat that was supposed to be Mark’s, just as though it were her own!

  Quite unaware of the violent currents of emotion swirling in the mind of the one person in Vale’s she had been recommended not to trust, Hilary looked up from her reclining position on the thick hearthrug.

  “Do you like him, Iris?” she asked directly as her sister returned, her usually pale cheeks flushed and warm, a sparkle in her eyes as she held out her chilled fingers to the blaze.

  “Mr. Vale ... Simon?” Iris said the name slowly as though savoring the sound of it on her lips.

  “I ... yes, I think so. At least he hasn’t the usual run of conversation one finds among men these days!” she countered. “Why? Do you ... like him, I mean?” she asked, a definite question underlying her words.

  “He’s a wonderful boss,” Hilary said, laughing a little, “though I think, between you and me and the fireside, he isn’t really the boss at all—just a sort of glorified, very interested partner. Old Mrs. Vale’s really the big noise of the firm, and Simon usually takes her advice.”