Nurse Trudie is Engaged

by Marjorie Norrell

  “I’m not sure she is ... I know she is,” Philip interrupted as he noted tears rising in the housekeeper’s eyes. “And she’s a good nurse, too,” he added. “In fact she’s what we used to call “a good all-rounder,” so far as I can see. Thank you, Mrs. Emma.”

  “What’s all this?” Dr. Hislop stood framed in the doorway, his cheerful glance taking in the array of bottles and glasses. “Can’t turn my back before you’re holding a bottle party or something,” he teased. “We’ll have the neighbors talking!”

  “Nothing wild and woolly, Dad.” Malcolm began to pour as Mrs. Emma slipped back unobtrusively to the kitchen, obviously remembering Trudie’s mother and wishing she could have been present. Geoff, with a tactful, confirming nod from his brother, guided her out and promised to take her a glass to “drink a toast,” determined that sad, reminiscent talk of their beautiful, talented mother should not disturb their father this night.

  “Philip—I shall have to call you Philip now—and Trudie have something they want to ask you, Dad,” Malcolm said quietly. “We all think we know what you’re going to say, so I’m just making preparations for when you’ve said it.”

  “Said what?” Dr. Hislop’s glance sought Philip’s, but he accepted the glass his eldest son held out to him as he spoke. Philip rose to his feet, but, stooping, he still kept hold of Trudie’s hand. He was feeling exactly as he had known he would feel in the face of this family, a cheat and a liar; only the cool, reassuring grip of Trudie’s fingers around his own enabled him to continue.

  “I’d like your consent to an engagement between Trudie and me,” he said formally. “It’s much too soon to speak of anything else, and we both have a great deal to do...”

  “We’ll both be at the extension, Dad,” Trudie broke in, fearing Philip was going to get himself involved in long explanations as to why there was to be positively no mention of a wedding date. “I didn’t have time to tell you before, but Matron told me, just before I came off duty. I’m home from St. Catherine’s for good. When I go back to work it’s at the new extension ... with Philip.” He did not realize it was a pleasure, a natural pleasure and not an act, when she smiled up into his face.

  “I see. I’m glad, if that’s what you want,” Dr. Hislop said sincerely. “I imagine it will be quite a thrill to start in a new building; new and ultra-modern equipment, new staff and all the rest of it. But you’ll both miss St. Catherine’s more than you believe possible right now. That’s always the way. And now about this other business!” His eyes twinkled at them both. “Engaged, is it?” he said slowly. “I really can’t think of any reason why not. I’d like to congratulate you both and to wish you everything you wish for yourselves; long life, good health and happiness.” He beamed around them all. “And I’m not going to hand out any good advice either,” he said soberly. “Too many people do that whether invited to do so or not. If you ever feel my advice on any problem might be of help it’s there, for what it’s worth, at any time, but until it’s asked for I’m keeping it to myself.”

  “It’s good to know we have someone to turn to should we need advice, sir,” Philip said. “And I thank you for your good wishes.”

  Dr. Hislop lifted his glass. “Long life, health and happiness to Philip and Trudie,” he said in a louder voice. Malcolm and his brother echoed the toast while Philip and Trudie remained in a blushing, guilty, accepting silence. Just as she was afraid Philip’s resolve would fail him and in some way he would be driven by his own sense of deceit into telling the full story, Trudie was thankful to hear the telephone ringing through the house.

  “Not again!” Geoff murmured. “Hope you don’t have to go out, Dad. Just when we’re celebrating...”

  Mrs. Emma came hurrying in from the hall, suddenly seeming inarticulate. She stared at Dr. Hislop, then at Trudie, then from one brother to the other and back to the doctor.

  “Come quickly, one of you,” she burst out at last. “This is a very expensive call. It’s Mrs. Garth ... calling from New York. She wants to talk to either Dr. Hislop or to Miss Trudie, and she said to hurry, please...”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Trudie’s anxious glance flew to her father’s face, and for one dreadful moment she thought the shock had given him a stroke. With an effort she forced her stiff limbs from the sofa and would have fallen but for Philip’s supporting arm. “I’ll take the call,” she announced. “Help me, Philip, please. Malcolm, get Dad a brandy ... quickly!”

  In spite of Philip’s help and support it took her far longer than usual to reach the telephone alcove. As she imagined the feelings of her unknown sister-in-law at the other end, away in another country with miles of sea and space between them, and thought of the enormous cost of the call, Trudie’s courage almost failed her. She was not in the least surprised to see that her hands were shaking as she lifted the instrument, and she was grateful for Philip’s supporting arm, for her leg ached dreadfully. She was suddenly overcome by the same kind of faintness she had experienced when she first became conscious in the casualty ward.

  “Trudie Hislop speaking,” she managed at length. “Sorry to have taken so long.”

  “Veronica Fleet here, Veronica Hislop,” came the strange voice over the phone. Trudie had never taken a trans-Atlantic call before and she was surprised how easily and clearly the words reached her. “You were kind enough to say I could come and stay with you for a time,” Veronica went on as though they had already met and the invitation had been issued but a day or so previously instead of almost a year ago. “I couldn’t then, but I can now. I’m escorting two children over tomorrow, and their mother is paying my fare in return. If it won’t be convenient you have only to say so...”

  For the first time she sounded uncertain, not sure of herself at all, and all of Trudie’s warm heart rushed out to meet her.

  “Of course it’s convenient, Veronica,” she said hurriedly. “It was just ... it’s so long since we heard from you. We’ve all wondered where you were and what you were doing. When will you be here?”

  “We touch down at London Airport around five o’clock tomorrow,” came the answer. “It doesn’t matter if no one can be there to meet me. I only wanted to be certain I wasn’t intruding.”

  Trudie had forgotten that Veronica was an accomplished if undistinguished actress, and the lost and forlorn note in her voice sounded as genuine as its owner had intended. She hastened to give reassurance.

  “How could you be intruding?” she demanded warmly. “Aren’t you part of the family now? Of course someone will be there to meet you. I’ll call through and check the time tomorrow. Just tell me how you are ... even at this goodness-knows-what per second.”

  “I’m fine, but tired.” Veronica did not think it necessary to inform her sister-in-law that the cost of the call did not worry her since it would be charged to Mrs. Van de Lief. Neither did she think it necessary to add that she was “resting,” as her profession termed being out of work, and had been for many months; or that a certain someone had made it his business, ever since Garth’s death, that she should find it more and more difficult to find work anywhere. “I’m coming to England now that I have this opportunity, and I hope to have a little rest first, if I won’t be in the way, before I start looking for work over there.”

  “We’ll talk about that when you arrive,” Trudie said firmly. “The main thing is you are coming. We’ve all longed to meet you, especially Dad. ‘Bye for the present, Veronica. Oh,” she added as an afterthought, “I’ve never seen a picture of you. How shall I know you?”

  “I’ll be wearing a black suit,” Veronica said quickly, “with touches of white. I’m dark, with shoulder-length hair. And”—Mrs. Van de Lief was nowhere within earshot and she could speak freely—“I shall have these two little demons with me, so I think that will be more than enough! Anyhow, I shall know you. Garth said you were very much alike.”

  “So people tell—told—us.” Try as she would, Trudie could not keep the shake from her voice at this
casual introduction of her beloved twin’s name. She had to cut this conversation short, and not only because of the cost of the call. “See you tomorrow. Glad you’re coming. ‘Bye!”

  She turned to Philip as she replaced the receiver, as though to do so were the most natural thing in the world. He smiled down into her upturned, bewildered face.

  “Let’s go back to the others,” he suggested. “You can talk better there, and your father will be anxious to know every word that has been said.”

  “You must help me remember,” Trudie told him, “if you could hear any of it, that is.”

  “I’m afraid I heard most of it,” Philip stated apologetically. “I’ve never eavesdropped on anyone’s conversation before.”

  “You couldn’t do anything else,” Trudie laughed. “I shall have to do better than this by tomorrow if I’m going to London Airport to meet her. I should have telephoned Broughton’s for their taxi before I left the phone,” she realized. “The boys will be using their cars and they’ll be out all day. Dad needs his, and anyway none of them would trust me to London and back with their precious vehicles all on my own.”

  “You need not be ‘all on your own’ unless you wish,” Philip told her as they negotiated the lounge doorway and rejoined the group eagerly awaiting news. “I have a free day due to me. I don’t do much except mess around, playing with the things I’ve always intended to do ‘one day’ on these occasions. If you like, I’ll drive you to the airport. We can have lunch in London and buy you a ring at the same time.”

  Trudie stared at him soundlessly. The thought of a ring—an engagement ring to complete the pretense they were sharing—had scarcely entered her head. She had realized that of course there would be a ring, exciting the envy of other girls. But when she had given the matter fleeting thought, she had assumed that Philip would bring one to her, probably one of his mother’s, and let it go at that. Now she felt the betraying color flying to her cheeks again as she looked at him, seeking words.

  “I ... it doesn’t matter,” she was beginning, but he laughed and instead of answering her spoke directly to her father, looking over Trudie’s head.

  “Did you ever hear such nonsense, sir?” he demanded. “Your daughter says her engagement ring ‘doesn’t matter.’ I don’t know whether she’s thinking of my pocket...”

  “She’s overwrought.” Dr. Hislop gave Trudie an affectionate glance that somehow included Philip in its warmth, but at once reverted to the topic uppermost in his mind. “You look for a ring as soon as she’s fit,” he suggested. “And now, what did ... Veronica want?”

  Trudie felt a sharp pang of sympathy for her father. The words “Garth’s wife” had trembled on his tongue, but all year he had avoided using his son’s name, as if the memory of the laughing, friendly boy he had loved and would see no more hurt too much.

  “She’s coming to stay with us, Dad,” she said simply. “We couldn’t say much, you understand. But it seems she’s not working at present and has a chance to fly over. I think she wants to look for work in this country, when she’s had a rest.”

  “Poor child,” Dr. Hislop said compassionately. “She shall have all the rest she needs and desires. She need not go back to work unless she wishes. I hope you told her that.”

  “I said we’d talk about it when she came,” Trudie told him. “As I said, there wasn’t much time. She arrives tomorrow at London Airport, and I said I’d be there to meet her. I know none of you can get away easily...”

  “I have a free day,” Philip put in as she paused for breath, “and I’ve offered to drive Trudie and to buy the ring when we’ve had lunch. Then I’ll take her on to the airport and bring them both back here, if that’s all right with you, sir?” He turned once more to Dr. Hislop.

  “I think that’s a splendid idea,” he said heartily. “Geoff, some more champagne, please. We’ve a double event to celebrate tonight. First Trudie and Philip’s engagement, and now my daughter-in-law is coming to stay with us. Did she mention Garth?” he added abruptly, as though the words were uttered under some compulsion.

  “Only to say she would recognize me because he had said we were very much alike.” The words were an effort, for she knew the picture they would evoke in her father’s mind; a picture of herself and Garth, side by side for some family snapshot or event as they had been so often.

  “Did she say how long she was staying with us?” Malcolm put in, and the tension of the moment passed.

  “No.” Trudie wrinkled her forehead.

  “There’ll be plenty of time for that sort of talk later,” Dr. Hislop said. “Oh, thank you,” he added as Geoff handed him a brimming glass.

  The next half hour or so was spent in toasting the unknown daughter-in-law and in discussion as to what she would most care to do and to see on her arrival. At last Philip looked at his watch and announced it was time he headed for home.

  “I’ll see you out,” Trudie offered, but he smiled down at her, shaking his head.

  “You stay here and rest your leg,” he told her. “I’ve been talking to your father and he and I have decided what he shall use tonight to give you a light massage and also you’re to take the tablets he has prescribed. These combined efforts should give you a good night’s rest, and I don’t think you will be half so stiff as you imagine you will be by morning. Good night, Trudie dear,” he startled her by saying, and then surprised her even more by suddenly stooping, giving her a gentle good night kiss in front of them all. She had to remind herself this was all part of the pretense, that this was what the family would expect of a newly engaged couple; all the same she knew the color had raced to her cheeks and her hands, as they lay in Philip’s, were trembling. Philip seemed to understand, for he gave her an understanding smile and her shaking hands felt the extra pressure of his fingers.

  “I’ll be here about 11 in the morning,” he announced, “but don’t get up unless you feel fit. I can go and meet your sister-in-law for you ... alone, if you’re not up to it, but I would like us to go for the ring if we can.”

  “I’ll try,” Trudie promised, suddenly wishing it were all true and that he really meant what he said. Then she shook herself free of dreams and said a quiet good night, but her ears strained after the sound of his car as he drove away into the night.

  A mile or so from The Cedars Philip pulled his car to the grass verge and stopped, then lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply into his lungs. He wanted to collect himself before returning to his own home and the curious glance he anticipated from his staff.

  So much had happened in the few hours that had passed since he came off duty and drove away from St. Catherine’s. From the moment he had braked to find Trudie Hislop almost under the wheels of his car, it seemed fate had taken charge of his life and was hustling him along on paths he was not sure he wished to tread. And yet what else could he have done? And was he really worried about this false engagement? Trudie, he would have staked his life on it, would honor their agreement. No one but the two of them—and Dora Stacey, who might guess—would know the truth.

  “It’s just that it’s all happened so quickly,” Philip mused. “And the way the family accepted me, made me one of themselves. And yet isn’t that what I wanted?” To escape from Ursula, from all the others, all the speculations and gossip about his private affairs...

  “I’ve done it now, anyway.” He grinned to himself as he let in the clutch and butted his cigarette. “For good or ill I’m ‘engaged’ to Trudie Hislop, part of the family ... or almost. We shall have to wait and see what happens next!” But he was smiling to himself as he headed for home.

  When Trudie awoke the following morning the little traveling clock beside her bed said a quarter to nine. She stretched her limbs experimentally and was relieved to find she was not as stiff and sore as she had anticipated.

  “Good old Dad,” she smiled to herself. “Takes a lot of beating!”

  She was about to throw back the covers and head for the bathroom, when Mrs. Emma tapped on
the door and opened it.

  “Oh,” she beamed, “you’re awake after all. I just looked in to see if you were all right. Wasn’t going to wake you just yet if you’d still been asleep, but Dr. Malham just telephoned.”

  “Here?” Trudie was wide awake. Then last night had not been a dream, or something conjured up as an after-effect of the bang on her head. Mrs. Emma, however, was rushing on and evidently had not noted her exclamation.

  “He said to tell you he has arranged for a Mr. Gustav,” she wrinkled her forehead, “to be here by ten o’clock. He said you would know who I mean if I told you he does voluntary work at the Out-patients.”

  “Gustav the masseur?” Trudie sat upright. “They say he’s wonderful,” she exclaimed. “He only goes out to special patients ... he works privately somewhere, I think, in some clinic or other.”

  “Well, he’ll be working here this morning,” Mrs. Emma reminded her. “Dr. Malham said if you were to go running off around town, to the airport, and everything else you’d need all the help you could get after the bruising you received. Those were his very words. And now,” she paused for dramatic effect, “I’m going to do my bit toward it all. You stay right where you are and I’ll be up with your breakfast tray in under five minutes. Then have a nice bath and be all ready for Mr. Whatever-his-name-is.”

  Before Trudie could do any more than murmur an astonished “thank you” she had retreated, leaving the girl to smile to herself and reflect that something—the accident, the engagement, or the impending arrival of her unknown sister-in-law—had created quite an impression. Mrs. Emma loved to fuss and spoil people, but a person had to be really ill before she would resort to taking a breakfast tray to bed, unless it was for Dr. Hislop.

  “Breeds idleness in young bones,” she had told the family more than once when Malcolm or Geoff had been worn out by an intensive bout of studying and had not wanted to do anything more than crawl back under the covers when it was time to get up.