Nurse Trudie is Engaged

by Marjorie Norrell

  “Certainly.” Trudie left the lounge and hurried to deliver her message, but she did not linger in the kitchen, nor did she go at once to her own room. She went across the landing and tapped lightly on Malcolm’s door, her heart giving a strange lurch of relief when his calm voice told her to “come in.”

  He was standing by his bed where his open briefcase lay, a sheaf of paper in his hand. He looked up smiling as Trudie entered, putting the papers carefully away in the case.

  “I expect you’ve come to tell me to get a move on,” he said in such an ordinary tone that for a moment Trudie wondered if she had correctly understood what her father had said downstairs. “I’m off,” Malcolm added. “I shall do it comfortably.”

  “You’re not ... going... now?” Trudie stared at him, not believing her ears. Malcolm stared back, then he laughed.

  “I’m on my way to Mrs. Sanderson’s,” he explained. “She’s changing her will again. This makes the third time in four weeks. What did you think I meant?” he asked curiously.

  “Dad said ... He was very upset,” Trudie began, still feeling her way. The very idea sounded preposterous, put into words.

  “He told you I was thinking of sharing with Chambers in Fellfield for a time, didn’t he?” Malcolm said flatly. “I am, but there’s no need for anyone to get upset, Trudie, believe me, my dear. I have my own reasons for this, and they’re good ones. I may not be away very long, we’ll see, but there’s something I must think out, away from this familiar background, away from you all.”

  “What sort of something, Malcolm?” Trudie asked directly. “Has it something to do with a girl?”

  “In a way,” Malcolm admitted slowly, “and in another way ... no. I can’t explain, but believe me, Trudie, there’s no need for Dad or you or anyone else to be upset. I’m doing what I know to be best. Surely you can trust me?”

  She looked back at him, complete trust in her glance as there always was in her dealings with Malcolm. He returned her glance confidently and unaccountably Trudie felt her fears and uneasiness subside.

  “Of course I trust you,” she said softly. “We all do, Dad especially. He’s only upset because he doesn’t understand why you want to make this change. He’s quite prepared for us all to leave ... when we want to make homes for ourselves or, like Garth, to further our work, but it’s just that...”

  “There didn’t appear to be any real reason,” Malcolm finished the sentence for her as she paused. “I know. I’ll explain one day.” He paused and looked narrowly at her with what Trudie teasingly called “his legal look.” Without removing his gaze from her own he asked, “Will you tell me something, Trudie, truthfully, as we used to insist when we were kids?”

  “If I can,” she said soberly; somehow she knew this was of great importance to this serious-minded brother of hers.

  “You can.” Malcolm assured her, still very grave. “Tell me just how much does Philip mean to you? Do you love him ... really love him, I mean?”

  Color flamed in Trudie’s face. Of all the questions she had imagined he might have asked, this was the last one she had expected. And what, she asked herself, could she say? To answer that this was “an arranged engagement” would, she knew, have resulted in a searching cross-examination by her brother, who was only concerned for her own welfare and happiness, she was convinced. To tell a lie seemed impossible, but to tell him the truth, unless she qualified her statement, would put Philip in a false position. She hesitated for a moment, then said slowly, “Yes, Malcolm, I do love him. There will never be anyone else for me,” and knew she was speaking the absolute truth. Whatever happened now she would never love anyone else. When they had started this pretense she had known she loved him dearly, but as the days had gone by and she had been more and more in his company and he had made himself part of the household, she had found her love growing beyond all bounds. At times it was a torment not to let him see how deeply she cared. At times too she ached for the feel of his arms about her, the touch of his lips on her own, even though she knew these gestures were in order to keep up the illusion in the eyes of the family. But still these were the moments she longed for.

  “And Philip?” Malcolm did not appear to be moved by her statement. He was simply clarifying a statement. Again Trudie hesitated, not because she did not know the answer, but because she did not wish to put Philip in an uncomfortable position and regret doing so at a later date.

  “You know how it is, except in rare cases,” she returned as lightly as she could. “There is always one who is loved and one who does the loving. Philip’s heart went to his surgical work years before he met me, but,” her chin lifted proudly, “I think I come a close second.” And that, she felt, might at least be true.

  “I see,” Malcolm said quietly. “I just wanted to know. I only want you to be happy, Trudie. Marriage isn’t a thing to be entered into lightly, no matter how certain sections of the community might regard their vows. I know we deal with divorce cases; some of them are obviously fabricated stories to facilitate a change of partners; some of them are real enough tragedies, but all of them have their own quota of hurt and tragedy that few people outside a lawyer’s office ever see. I just wanted to know ... how matters were with you and Philip, even though you haven’t reached the marrying stage as yet, and to let you know that if ever you need help or advice ... well”—he gave a small laugh and began to fasten his briefcase, indicating he was ready to leave—“Don’t forget ... Big Brother will always watch out for you!”

  “I’ll remember,” Trudie promised. “Oh, heavens, I forgot again! I came up here to get changed for the opening. I can hear Dora calling.”

  Dora was indeed doing more than calling up the stairs; she was on her way to Trudie’s room. She had known the Hislop children from childhood and loved the entire family, and her mind and heart were disturbed by what she had observed that afternoon. She smiled at Trudie as she advanced into the room, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands.

  “I thought I’d better bring you this,” she announced, “or you won’t have time to drink it. Anything I can do to help? Everyone else is ready.”

  “Veronica isn’t going, is she?” The question was blurted out before Trudie was really aware she was going to ask it, but the prompt query did not escape Dora’s notice.

  “No,” she said cryptically. “She wasn’t invited. And it’s ‘invitations only’ on this occasion,” she ended. She waited while Trudie’s head emerged from the top of her new outfit and then said with seeming casualness that did not in the least deceive her listener, “By the way, how does Malcolm get along with Veronica? He’s so self-contained one hardly ventures to even guess what he’s thinking.”

  “They get along all right.” Trudie wrinkled her brow in thought. “But Malcolm’s is one scalp she hasn’t been able to add to her belt as yet,” she said, surprising herself by the sudden vicious little speech and coloring as she realized what she had said. On the other hand, Dora appeared to take the remark for granted and nodded understandingly as she replied.

  “I noticed that on the night we had the dinner to celebrate your engagement and her arrival,” she said cryptically, “and I can’t say I was surprised. Malcolm is extremely self-contained and far-seeing, and he has a logical head on his shoulders ... more logical than average, I’d say.” She refrained from adding that was one reason why she was worried on Malcolm’s behalf, since she had also noticed that night how piqued Veronica was by Malcolm’s obvious indifference to her wiles.

  Malcolm drove steadily and carefully to keep his appointment with the wealthy old lady who was so worried about which of her numerous relatives were the most deserving, but his mind was not on his client. He was thinking instead of his sister’s face when she had answered his question; “Do you love him ... really love him?”

  There was no doubt about it, he reflected. Whatever the situation between them, Philip undoubtedly had the whole of Trudie’s love, and, so far as Malcolm could see, the only person likely to
spoil things for them was the lovely, enigmatic stranger, his late brother’s wife, Veronica.

  “There’s only one way for her to be permanently out of Trudie and Philip’s life as a menace,” he told himself seriously, “and that would be to have her safely remarried to someone she loved as much as Trudie loves Philip.” His frown deepened, for his observations of his sister-in-law had led him to believe she had not by any means loved her late husband with any thing like that degree of feeling. Malcolm thought of Garth: impulsive, over-emotional, given to excesses of affection just as Trudie was, and his soul cringed for his late brother’s feelings if Veronica had, in the days of their marriage, reacted to every man she met as she did nowadays.

  “And, she would,” Malcolm thought, “unless she loved her husband so deeply that all thoughts of anyone else were excluded ... and I doubt if she loved poor old Garth in that way.”

  A glance at his watch told him he was 15 minutes early and impulsively he turned into a leafy lane, halted the car and lit a cigarette. He needed time to think; that was one of the reasons he had decided to share the apartment with Chambers for a time. The other reason, and he was honest enough not to disguise the fact to himself, was that he felt it necessary to get away from Veronica’s compelling presence for a time.

  Philip was by no means the only member of the family who had felt the impact of Veronica’s strange attraction. Malcolm was well versed by this time in the peculiar quirks to which human nature is addicted. He had studied this attraction, his own reactions to it, the reasons for it, from all angles with the same studious care he gave to every problem.

  So far as he was concerned it was not only her beauty and her vivacity that attracted him. It was something in Veronica herself, something of the essential woman hiding behind this bright facade she presented to the world.

  “I’m positive she isn’t happy,” he told himself now for at least the hundredth time. “She doesn’t behave like a happy woman, but I think I could make her happy ... but I’d have to be sure.”

  It was only the previous evening when he had finally concluded that he himself was deeply and sincerely in love with Veronica; that it would not make any difference to him when her beauty faded and advancing years had slowed down some of that amazingly attractive zest for life which, he realized, was partly what drew people to her like a magnet. No, he had decided, none of that would make any difference. He would only need to be sure he could win and hold her love, not her fleeting desire, and in his heart he was convinced that such a love once won would be well worth the winning and the holding.

  “But could I hold her?” he asked himself again, and again he did not know the answer. All he knew was that, so far in her life, Veronica had put herself and her desires and emotions before those of anyone else. Before he would seriously involve himself Malcolm knew he would have to be certain that his happiness, desires and emotions would take first place in her life, and not be elbowed out by any of the will-o’-the-wisp attractions that she followed now so easily and lightly.

  But how to be sure? The question had been revolving in his brain for days and was still revolving. He had decided that the only thing to do was to remove himself from her vicinity for a while and see what happened when he returned; for he knew that, short of setting up a home for himself, nothing would remove him from The Cedars for any length of time. Yet he could stay there no longer and hold his tongue while Veronica attempted to flirt first with Philip, then with himself. Geoff, he smiled to himself, she had left severely alone after her first skirmish with Ursula, who had made it plain there was a “hands off’ notice up so far as her intended fiancé was concerned. Judging by the way Ursula was advancing her beloved along the paths she had decided he ought to follow, it would not be long before he was well up his chosen tree. The two of them would set up their own establishment which, in every possible way, would come under the personal supervision of Ursula herself. Veronica and others like her would be welcome only as invited guests, not as nuisance intruders.

  He had no time for further reflection just now, however. It was time to turn into Mrs. Sanderson’s drive and present himself at her door, and also time for the Mayor of Fellfield to declare the new hospital building open for the service of mankind.

  “I wonder how they’re all faring,” he thought as he rang the old-fashioned bell and waited for Mrs. Sanderson’s elderly maid, Janet, to appear. “And how Veronica is managing, with only Mrs. Emma for company today.”

  He need not have worried about the members of his family who were present at the opening ceremony. Dr. Hislop was beaming with pride that Philip had been chosen to become the superintendent of this magnificent building, and Trudie shared his delight. Dora’s anxious eye sought the glances of those members of the hospital management committee she knew to be most directly concerned with the proposed addition of her own unit. Altogether everyone was in a happy and contented frame of mind.

  Veronica, on the other hand, was lonely, miserable and bored. She had not been invited to the opening, neither had Geoff, but he was away at Arcpo, busy in his laboratory. Anyway he would receive a graphic description of all that had taken place from Ursula who was, naturally, one of the important figures at the opening ... she was attending with her uncle.

  “I’m bored, bored, bored,” she told herself, viciously punching a cushion. “What anyone finds to do in a hole like this day after day I really can’t imagine.” But when Mrs. Emma came in and asked if she would care to shell a bowl of early peas that Mr. Parkinson had just delivered, she received the suggestion with scorn.

  “I’d help if you were pushed for time,” she told the housekeeper but without conviction, “but you’re not, and it would ruin my nails. I’ve never done such work in my life!”

  “You might have been a more contented woman if you had,” was Mrs. Emma’s only comment, but she removed the bowl of peas without any sense of grievance. She had not really expected Veronica to help with the task that would have delighted Trudie, but she had felt the woman would be better with something to do than sitting there alone, with no one else in the house but Mrs. Emma. Some time later she saw Veronica swinging out of the gates and down the road to the village.

  Veronica did not come back until a few minutes before she knew dinner would be ready. She had barely vanished inside the door when Dr. Hislop’s car drew up, followed by Dora’s. The telephone was ringing as Veronica entered the hall, and calling to Mrs. Emma that the others were back she answered the phone. To her surprise it was Malcolm at the other end of the line, and even to herself she would not admit how her heart leaped when she heard his voice. In tones so cool that he would never have guessed she was in the least disturbed, she asked what he wanted and informed him that the others had just driven up and that dinner was ready to be served.

  “I know,” Malcolm said easily, “that’s why I rang just now. Ask Mrs. Emma not to keep anything for me, will you? I’m dining with Mrs. Sanderson and playing chess with her afterward.” He gave a little chuckle. “The last time I did this it was nearly two in the morning before she decided she had had enough, but we try to humor her if we can.”

  “Shall I ask Mrs. Emma to leave you some coffee and sandwiches, then?” Veronica surprised him by the question. He had somehow not expected her to be so thoughtful.

  “If you will, please,” he said now. “Tell Dad I have my key and I’ll see to the lights and whatnot. No need for him to worry.”

  Veronica promised and hung up, but her eyes were thoughtful as she related both messages to Dr. Hislop and to Mrs. Emma. Then she lapsed into silence, listening while the others discussed their day and Philip and Trudie talked of the morrow when they would both be on duty in their new surroundings for the very first time.

  It was late when the household retired for the night, Veronica being the first to stifle her yawns and to make her excuses. When first Dora and then Philip had gone, Dr. Hislop locked up the house, switched off the lights and: went upstairs with Geoff.


  Dr. Hislop was never certain what woke him, but when he glanced at his watch he saw it was ten minutes past two. A look through his bedroom window told him precisely nothing, but common sense told him that if the sound he had heard, or imagined, was Malcolm returning, then he would have put his car in the garage and be drinking the coffee left for him, and would then be coming upstairs to bed.

  “If he wants me he knows where I’ll be,” Dr. Hislop told himself and settled down to sleep again. Downstairs in the kitchen, Malcolm sat at the small table and stared as Veronica, clad in her nightdress and filmy negligee, stood in the open doorway and asked casually, “Do you mind if I join you? I know there’s plenty for two, and I couldn’t sleep.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  If Veronica hoped to shake Malcolm from his usual composure by her unheralded appearance, she must have been greatly disappointed. Controlling his natural surprise as well as he could and privately congratulating himself that he had controlled it very well indeed, he rose courteously and pulled up another chair.

  “I’m sorry you can’t sleep,” he said calmly. “I’ll get another cup, although coffee isn’t exactly the best sort of nightcap for insomnia.”

  “I like it,” Veronica said, “especially the way Mrs. Emma makes it.”

  She watched in silence as he poured out the coffee, proffered first the sugar and then a sandwich, which she refused. “I’m not hungry,” she said quietly, adding pointedly, “only for convivial company.”