“Congratulations,” Hilary said at once, wondering what the next question was likely to be. It was obvious from his look of unease that he had something more to say.
When he didn’t speak for a moment she went on, putting her thoughts into words, but it was more or less a shot in the dark since he gave no clue as to what the trouble was likely to be!
“If you want a note to go to your doctor and get him to give you a check-up,” she said in a kindly tone, “that’s simple. I don’t think he’ll find much wrong with you, beyond your diabetic condition, of course, and you know about that!”
“I know about it, surely,” Carruthers agreed reluctantly, “but the trouble is I don’t know enough! I don’t know what causes it. I don’t know if it’s true it can be ... fatal, and most of all I don’t know if I’m likely to pass it on to Kitty, once we’re married.” The flush on his cheeks deepened, but his glance met her own steadily. “That’s what I want to ask you about, nurse. Is Kitty likely to suffer if she marries me? I’d rather tell her it’s all off now, and let her think I’m a so-and-so,” he said firmly, “than marry her and make her sick!”
Hilary’s heart warmed to him. “You don’t have to worry about anything like that,” she assured him quickly, and was rewarded by an immediate lighting up of his whole countenance. “Some people are diabetics from childhood,” she explained, “and live to a ripe old age! Nowadays, when insulin can be taken orally, it’s so much simpler to treat. You merely need to watch your diet and follow the insulin treatment.”
“But what causes it, nurse?” he persisted. Hilary wrinkled her brows, searching for an explanation that would be sufficiently simple for him to understand.
“In a normal person,” she began, “carbohydrates in sugar, candy, chocolate, flour and all starchy foods have to undergo a certain change in their substance before they can be assimilated. A substance we call insulin is necessary to use up the excess sugar. Normal people produce enough of this in the pancreas. If insufficient amounts are produced,” she went on, warming to her theme, “the balance of the metabolism is upset and the body doesn’t function properly. That’s why it’s necessary to have the insulin from outside sources, and providing the insulin is fresh and the dosage adhered to with unfailing regularity, there’s absolutely no need to worry.”
“And if it isn’t fresh?” Carruthers persisted, determined, now he had started, to investigate this thing to the bitter end. “What happens then?”
“Then, in that very unlikely event, you’d have an increase of ketone bodies in your bloodstream. This—” she did not want him to pose any further questions as she could see two people waiting her attention, “—would in turn lead to severe diabetic acidosis. If untreated, this in turn would lead to diabetic coma and ... death. But,” she emphasized, “this is most unlikely to happen to you, remember. You and your Kitty will, I know, have a long and happy life together. And I’m pleased you had the sense to come and ask me all this before you either worried yourself ill or said something you’d afterward regretted!”
“There’s something else as well, nurse.” Carruthers stood up, ready to leave, but he looked so worried Hilary had not the heart to speed him on his way.
“Yes?” she asked patiently.
“We’d like you to come to the wedding, please,” he blurted out. “We’d like you to see us wed. It’ll only be a small affair, in St. Andrew’s church at the end of our road. There’ll only be her folks, two or three from the store, and a couple of relatives of mine. Will you, nurse, please? You’ve helped me a lot,” he said self-consciously, “and though you perhaps don’t know it, you’ve helped Kitty as well. I’ve learned a great deal from what you’ve told me. Please say you’ll come. Three o’clock, Easter Saturday. We’re only having two taxis, but I’ll make sure one comes and collects you!” he offered.
“I shall be at my own home on Easter Saturday,” Hilary told him and gave him the address. “And, thank you very much, I’d love to come,” she concluded. She was rewarded by another broad grin from the burly man.
“See you then, eh, nurse?” he managed. “Kitty’ll probably look in when she comes to get her dress. She’s gettin’ it from Vale’s, of course, and she’ll be just as pleased as I am. Cheerio!”
The pace continued throughout the weeks prior to the Easter break. If Hilary noticed anything different in the attitude of Mark Dawson, she gave no sign. Mark had almost begun to believe he had imagined the interest Simon had shown in Hilary until, a week before the Easter break, Simon once more began to haunt the door of the flat whenever Hilary was there.
As he never mentioned Iris in front of anyone else, Mark was not to know his boss’s interest centered on when Iris was due home, exactly how long she would be staying this time, and what were her favorite interests, so that he could plan ahead. Hilary was delighted. With Simon’s interest in her sister evidently serious and deep, she allowed herself to plan ahead a little too, although more tentatively. Life would be wonderful, she thought, if Iris and Simon were really in love.
Iris was home on the Wednesday before Good Friday. The store closed on Friday, but Hilary had already made her arrangements—with Simon—to live at home from Wednesday evening. Aida, noting that the nurse had locked up the flat and left—in Mr. Simon’s car—was determined to make certain this time of the exact hour Mr. Simon left the house in St. John’s Road, and also to make equally certain that Mark Dawson knew of it, too!
On Saturday morning Aida decided to approach Mark. The store was busy, but Aida had a little time to herself that morning.
She was in the Gowns section when Mark, worried and harassed by the press of last-minute customers in the store, hastened through.
“Going to the first-aid center, Mark?” Aida asked quietly. “If it’s a rest and a cup of tea you’re after, I’d say the staff canteen’s less likely to be busy. I saw Simon heading for the first-aid center a little while ago, and I haven’t seen him come away yet.”
She didn’t add, because she didn’t know, that Simon had been carrying a special delivery box containing an elaborate Easter egg, with a valuable necklace nestled among the chocolates inside the egg, and a smaller box destined for Hilary herself. The flowers he had ordered from the florist’s department would be delivered by the time Hilary was home.
It was taking some time to work out details for the day, although Aida didn’t know that, either. Hilary was going home to change and then on to the wedding of burly Carruthers and his Kitty. Simon’s grandmother had sent an invitation to St. John’s Road before she had heard of Hilary’s plans, and now Simon was striving to make certain all events for the sisters and for himself dovetailed accurately, so as to make the most of the short break from the store.
For Iris the time was not quite so important. There were still ten days of her holiday to follow, but for himself and for Hilary the break would be all too short to pack in the visit to Cresta, the car excursions to the sea and to the country Simon had planned with Laura’s helpful advice, determined to put himself on a firm footing with this attractive older sister of Nurse Bell’s before she returned to her work.
“So if she gave her notice after Easter,” he asked Hilary as he sat in the small office, “she could leave without any trouble when the college breaks up for the summer vacation?”
“That’s correct,” Hilary smiled. She liked Simon and with all her heart she prayed Iris would not retreat into her shell and treat him as coldly as only Iris could. “You haven’t said anything to Iris yet, have you?” she queried. Iris had not even hinted at anything more exciting than a deep friendship between herself and the owner of the store, and although her sister had every right in the world to keep her affairs to herself, Hilary knew she would have been bitterly hurt had there been any secret unshared.
“No,” Simon grinned so boyishly that her heart warmed to him. “I’m just hoping, Hilary! Keep your fingers crossed for me, won’t you? A great deal depends on this Easter break!”
Th
ey were both smiling as he left, and it was then Mark Dawson turned and saw Aida beside him.
Mark swung around irritably. He didn’t care for the woman, although all the time he had been a member of the staff of Vale’s she had never made an error in buying, at the right price, what would sell with rather more than a fair profit.
“Aren’t they being rather obvious, Mark?” The penciled eyebrows were raised, and a small smile curved the thin lips. “Simon must have wanted to discuss something extra special with Hilary, something that couldn’t wait. That night she went to Cresta—you remember? He brought her home. His car was outside for hours.” she said in triumphant conclusion.
“Surely there’s nothing sinister about Simon’s giving Hilary a ride home. She was visiting his grandmother, you know.”
“And every night of her sister’s stay, Mark?” Aida put in slyly. “It couldn’t be the sister who’s the attraction. He doesn’t even know her, and somehow I can’t see our Simon interested in a schoolteacher!”
“Maybe so, maybe so,” Mark spoke hurriedly, partly because he was angry, partly because a small part of his brain admitted there may be something in what she was saying, and that was the sort of thing he didn’t want to listen to, not even from his own heart. “I think you ought to take a look at the beachwear stand, Miss Everett,” he said crisply. “Miss Oates was saying something about a possible re-order to reach us before early May...”
Aida went off, smugly satisfied. She didn’t mind being hustled out of the way. Had Mark only realized it, this showed how deeply disturbed he was!
Let him get used to the idea, then I’ll show him the proof, she assured herself. He’ll not take long to realize he can’t compete—not in money and prestige, anyway—with the boss of Vale’s!
There were other ways in which he could compete, she thought, satisfied with having sown the seeds of distrust. He was young and attractive, and on his way up the commercial ladder. She had a sizable legacy, tucked away in shares. It might yet be as well to offer an added inducement, when the time was ripe! To start his own store in competition with Vale’s if he wished, or in some other township if he’d prefer that; Mark might well feel that an advantage. It would remove him from Simon’s orbit... Altogether things, as usual, appeared to be going very well where Aida was concerned!
Completely unaware of the jealous cruelty being plotted against her, Hilary enjoyed the short break from the store more than she had believed possible. The few days sped by, with an overnight visit to Cresta, Easter Sunday morning service in the Vale pew at the old parish church of St. Mary and the afternoon spent in a glorious drive through a countryside which was burgeoning with the bright, fresh green of springtime.
The following day, when most people were returning home after a brief spell by the sea, Simon drove to a small, sheltered bay he knew well. The weather was kind, and Hilary, sitting with Gran, was enjoying herself. Laura Vale was an interesting companion at any time. That afternoon she deliberately set herself to make a friend of this girl who had come to work in the store to which she had dedicated her businesslike brain from the day of her marriage, so many years ago.
When Simon and Iris returned from a ramble over the moorland beyond the sheltered bay, cheeks glowing, eyes shining, Hilary learned that all was as she had hoped and prayed. Iris and Simon wanted to get married.
“We must celebrate,” Laura announced when the congratulations were over. “Telephone the Royal, Simon and book a table for tonight. We’ll have a proper engagement party when Iris has time to make a list of the people she’d like to invite.”
Discussion about the forthcoming party occupied them for the entire journey home. Only on one point was Iris insistent. She didn’t want an official engagement party until she had left the college, she insisted, in spite of Laura’s obvious disappointment. However, Laura reluctantly agreed to respect the girl’s wish, and Iris completely won her heart by insisting that there was no necessity for her to leave the old house she loved so much.
“It’s always been home to me,” she said simply. “Anne, Simon’s mother, you know, wasn’t there very long, poor darling. She was old-fashioned enough to fret herself away in a decline when my son was killed.”
Hilary had seen much the same sort of thing happen more than once in her years at St. David’s, and knew exactly the sort of state Anne must have been in at the time. Her heart ached, as it always did for another’s grief, as she reflected how much sadness, as well as how much joy, someone like Laura Vale must have witnessed in her long life.
“Iris is right,” she said simply. “Cresta’s large enough for you to have your own rooms, and Kate Lusty would be lost if she had to move into a smaller place and still keep track of all your interests. It wouldn’t be fair.” It was late when Simon drove the girls back to number four, but Aida saw the car arrive, although in the spring dusk and from such a distance she could not see who descended from its depths. It was more than satisfactory to know it had arrived, and that it was still there when at last Mark Dawson reluctantly left her flat, an unwilling witness, as she insisted upon calling him, to his boss’s interest in the nurse!
When Iris finally returned to college and Hilary was once more back as a resident in the flat, she knew that somehow something had gone out of the nebulous state of the friendship she had hoped she and Mark shared. Now there was a distinct sense of strain, and she could not imagine why this should be.
The unease was further heightened when, on her first evening back at the flat, for the first time since she had taken over residence there, Mark made no attempt whatsoever to accompany her to her small private domain.
What could have happened? Hilary asked herself, standing in the middle of the room and looking forlornly at the small tray on which she had placed two cups and a tray of cookies. “It must be something I’ve said or done ... but what?”
There was no one to answer the question, and although she lay awake for a long time that evening, trying to go over every moment she had spent in his company, she came no nearer an explanation.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Heartache, Hilary told herself firmly, a week or so after Iris had returned to the girls’ college where she taught, could be treated just like any other ache, given patience! The main trouble, she realized, lay not in the fact of her heartache alone, but in the fact that she had so entwined her feelings about Mark Dawson into the emotional fabric of her life that none of her friendship with him seemed real any more.
Deliberately she made herself remember all the occasions when she and the handsome store manager had been alone together. Almost always it had been in the confines of the small private flat, and even then, she remembered, someone—usually Simon—had interrupted. But those brief visits of his had been so cherished, so very important, if only because they had made her feel someone cared whether or not she was “all right” in her new sphere.
Now it was apparent Mark neither knew nor cared whether or not all was well with her world. With a desperation she did not realize was born of frustrated emotion, she longed for Monica Dawson’s cheerful face to appear, by some miracle, to help her discover just what could possibly have offended her brother.
She couldn’t bear to have a snack lunch in there on her own, that day, she thought wildly. There had been more than the usual number of people in for help that morning, and somehow, with all the joy gone from her own private life, Hilary had the dreadful feeling she could no longer cope. She hadn’t felt like this since the days when her illness had been at its height, and she did not like the return of the sensation!
I’ll stick a notice on the door and go to the canteen, she decided. Simon told me to do just that if ever things got too much for me ... although goodness knows, if a little job like this is going to get me down, it seems Matron was right when she told me it’d be at least a year before I was fit to go back on the ward! If he’d ever even hinted he liked her, she told herself with scorn as she wrote out the notice, found a thumb tack and stuc
k it to her door, then her feelings would be understandable! But he’d never said anything, just gone on being his charming, polite self ... and she’d been fool enough to read more into it!
Firmly she set her cap a little more primly on her head, locked the door of the first-aid center and started off to the staff canteen. She had never been there for a meal, but she had taken the odd cup of coffee there.
She collected a crab salad and a glass of milk, with a small piece of custard pie for dessert, when she caught sight of someone waving from a table beside the far wall. At first she was by no means sure the signal was for herself, but as she walked nearer she saw that it was Nita, and hoping that the model was definitely indicating that Hilary join her.
“We don’t often see you here, Hilary,” Nita began cheerfully. “I was saying to Monica, when she popped into the store the other day, it’s time she looked us up ... and she said she would.”
“Monica was in Vale’s, and I didn’t see her?” Hilary looked blank for a moment, but Nita smiled reassuringly.
“She couldn’t stay,” she explained. “She slipped out between duties. You’ll know what she meant better than I do. She asked me to give you her love. I’m afraid,” she said apologetically, “I haven’t seen much of you myself since then; what with your rushing off to Carruthers’s wedding, then the holiday break, and since then there seems to only be after hours, and I don’t like to interrupt when it’s the only time you and Mark can have a private chat.”
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