Nurse Trudie is Engaged

by Marjorie Norrell

  “Then I’m afraid you have the wrong companion.” Malcolm’s pulses were beating at a rate most unusual for him, but he was determined to give no outward sign of inner disturbance. This, he was well aware, was the greater part of his attraction for her. “I’m tired,” he announced inconsequently. “And an evening’s chess with Mrs. Martha Sanderson is worse than a week of work!”

  “Part of the job, I suppose,” Veronica said uninterestedly. She had not waited, listening for the sound of his returning car, only to discuss this Mrs. Sanderson whom she did not know nor desire to hear about. “Malcolm”—her husky voice took on a low, intimate and tender note—“I’m very distressed,” she confided. “When I came here I thought I was coming as a welcome and wanted part of the family. Now I’m wondering if I ought not to go away ... though where I would go I’ve no idea ... not that that matters,” she added deprecatingly. “It’s... you ... all of you.”

  “What sort of nonsense is this?” Malcolm kept his tone light with an effort, but her words had indeed given him a shock. The slanting green eyes lifted their glance to meet his own, then the creamy lids came down, fanning the equally creamy cheeks with those fantastic black lashes. When she spoke again her voice was so low as to be barely audible.

  “It isn’t nonsense,” she said slowly. “It was something Father-in-law said. He was upset, of course ... maybe I’ve not understood it correctly...

  “What did he say?” Malcolm demanded, giving a short, hard laugh of disbelief. “I can’t imagine him saying anything that would make you feel unwelcome.”

  “It wasn’t that.” She looked at him again, fully, challengingly. “He said you were going away. Living somewhere else. I had the strangest feeling it was because you don’t like me living here. That you feel I’m intruding, that in some way I’ve spoiled things at home for you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Malcolm set down his cup with a decisive little bang. “How could your being here affect me?” he demanded. “I’m scarcely at home, except in the evenings, and not always then.” But she still regarded him with that same cool, level look he felt he must wipe from her face by whatever means he could.

  “It’s true, though, isn’t it?” she persisted. “You can’t settle, with me around the house. You know it, I know it. Why don’t you give in, Malcolm?” The words were almost whispered. “Why don’t you admit you’re attracted to me, that you’re jealous every time I smile at Philip, that you could have struck that poor man in charge of the driving school?”

  With a tremendous effort of will power Malcolm refrained from rising from his chair to take her by the shoulders, to press his mouth on her upturned reddened one, to make her conscious of him as a man and conscious too of his love for her, his need of her. But he kept his emotions under stern control and asked instead, “Do you ever think of Garth, Veronica? Do you ever wake in the night wishing he were here, that whatever happened had never been, that you were together again, as you were?”

  “Stop it! Don’t talk like that!” The words burst out from her lips as though without her knowledge or will. She rose and faced him, her hands pressed down on the table as though for support. “You know nothing of what happened ... that night. How can you speak of matters of which you know nothing and which are no concern of yours anyway? It’s all over and done with. Garth’s dead, and no words of yours or mine will ever bring him back.”

  “They won’t bring him back,” Malcolm repeated, “that’s true. But you are hiding something, Veronica. You’ve been hiding some secret all the time you’ve been here, and, make no mistake about it, one day I shall find out what it is. What”—his tone changed abruptly and she might have been an unwilling witness whom he was challenging—“was in that letter you received from the States this morning? More money? If so ... why?”

  “It wasn’t money,” Veronica said vehemently, “and in any case it’s no business of yours. It was a letter from a friend of mine. He may be coming to England soon. That’s all.”

  “You took great pains to destroy it, I remember,” Malcolm said dryly. In a more gentle tone he added kindly, “Look here, my dear, we’re both tired and overwrought. Let’s get off to bed like sensible people, and remember,” he eyed her gravely, “I know you have a problem, even though I don’t know what it is as yet. We are all willing to help you, every one of us.”

  “Then don’t go away to this apartment or whatever it is,” she broke in passionately. “Stay here, close to me. You’re strong. Most men are weak, at least where women are concerned. Stay here, and maybe one day I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  “One day I’ll find out,” Malcolm returned, unperturbed. “But I am going away for a time, Veronica. I could say it was because you are here, and that would be part of the truth, but not all of it; and I could never hope to make you understand just yet. I’m made of less imaginative stuff than either Garth or Geoff. I look at things from a factual point of view, and that’s why I’m going where I can think things over without any distractions.” He gave her his customary slow smile, completely disarming her, “I must admit I find you more of a distraction than I care to admit at times.”

  Veronica smiled up at him; it was a wavering smile with a hint of tears behind it, but also with a hint of triumph that Malcolm did not like. Nevertheless she allowed him to take her arm and to propel her toward the stairs.

  “Don’t waken anyone,” he whispered. “They may have wrong ideas,” but he was grinning as he spoke and she felt she could have struck him. He left her outside her door with a quiet “Sleep well, see you in the morning.”

  When Veronica came down the next day, late as usual, the house was deserted: Trudie at her new hospital, Dr. Hislop out on his rounds and Malcolm “away for the day,” so Mrs. Emma told her. All the same Veronica was not displeased by the effect of her late-night excursion. As she sipped her coffee after a pleasant lunch shared with her father-in-law her mind was made up. She would go to the new extension and ask to see Trudie on a matter of “urgent family business.” She might see Philip, and he was far more susceptible than Malcolm. But there was small satisfaction in the thought. Her chase of Philip had lost something of its diverting qualities, whereas Malcolm was a challenge she had never previously encountered.

  “I wonder how sister Trudie would look upon that ... if I could bring it off?” she asked herself as she ran upstairs to change and get ready for her visit. “We’ll soon find out!”

  It was easier to get into the hospital and to be allowed .to see Trudie than Veronica had ever dreamed possible. Fate was on her side, for someone who had attended the opening on the previous day, and who wished to remain anonymous, had donated a huge check for the very purpose Dora Stacey had been dreaming of ever since the extension was proposed; a pediatric unit was to be built alongside, on condition that the matter was put in hand “immediately.”

  All day the hospital offices had thronged with representatives of the Borough of Fellfield, of the hospital management committee, architects, surveyors and other people connected with the unexpected gift. There had been an intake of new patients, and lots of other things that had left Trudie wondering whether she were standing on her head or her heels. When a nurse came to tell her that her sister-in-law was waiting, asking to see her on a matter of “urgent family business” she first made certain no one had been taken ill or had had an accident, and then asked the girl to give her visitor tea in the nurses’ staff room. At that moment Dora Stacey came by, her usually severe expression lightened by the knowledge that her private and pet project was at last to be realized.

  “Do you mean Mrs. Garth—Veronica?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Trudie said briefly. “I don’t know what she’s doing here, but Amison tells me she’s waiting to see me.”

  “Then let me take her up and give her tea in the consultants’ room,” Dora suggested. “I could do with a cup myself, and I wanted to see her about something special.”

  “Very well,” Trudie nodded, relieved
. “If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

  “It’s something I want to do,” Dora said so sincerely that Trudie knew she was speaking the truth. “You come and collect us when you’re ready. I want to talk to Veronica. Ask her a favor.”

  For a moment Trudie looked doubtful, but Dora nodded cheerfully and gave her a little push.

  “Nurse will bring her up to me,” she announced. “Not to worry, I want to persuade her to sing at a charity fete,” and went on her way, her tuneless humming, a sign of her inner satisfaction, accompanying her on her way to the elevator.

  It was not a new idea on Dora’s part. Ever since the night of the celebration she had cast about in her mind for something to interest Veronica; and now, it seemed, she had found it. One of the committee had suggested a summer fete, and Dora had entered fully into the spirit of the thing. Veronica had made one film. She was a singer. She was also the daughter-in-law of Dr. Stephen Hislop, himself a very respected citizen, and Dora was certain she could convince the woman she would be an added attraction if she consented to open the festivities. By the time Veronica had been conducted to the consultants’ room, Dora had her campaign plan ready.

  “I’m glad to have this opportunity of talking to you alone, dear,” she began as she poured their tea, after explaining that Trudie was busy at the moment. “It’s so difficult to discuss these things in someone else’s house, and I never see you at any other time. I happen to be chairman of a committee that helps handicapped children,” she went on. In a few words she had explained the idea and objective of the fete.

  “It’s to be held on the 21st of July,” she went on, “and is an annual charity effort. Last year it was opened by the Honorable Mrs. Dearby. This year I would like it to be opened by Mrs. Veronica Hislop ... and it would make the day if you would consent to give us one or two of your songs,” she added coaxingly.

  For a moment she thought the offer would be refused, then a slow smile curved the corners of Veronica’s mouth. This would show them all; Philip, Trudie and Malcolm, what she was like on her own ground. True, there would not be the lights or the stage background, but she was not an actress for nothing. Veronica knew she could make the day into a personal triumph as well as help Dora possibly boost the funds for her pet charity.

  “I’ll do it,” she promised, her eyes sparkling. “But I must have real music ... not a tape recorder or a record player or anything like that. And I’ll not be Veronica Hislop. Show people don’t know me by that name, nor anyone who has seen me in a film or has my record. I’m Veronica Fleet,” she announced proudly. “You may put that on your posters, if you wish.”

  For Trudie, who had dreaded Malcolm’s departure more than she would admit, the days passed quickly enough after all. For one thing, the Fellfield airport had been reopened, and two interesting cases had been flown in to the extension hospital from outlying districts. There was a further intake of patients from St. Catherines’s. On top of all this Dora had roped her in to help with the arrangements for her summer fete, and altogether Trudie was finding life more than full. In one way she was glad to be so busy; it left little time for worrying about her private affairs, but as the days slipped by one thing was becoming more and more apparent to Trudie. That was the realization that this supposed fascination Veronica had for people was no myth. Reluctantly Trudie found herself drawn more and more to the vital personality of the other girl, but at the same time part of her inner self held back. By the time the great day dawned and she was helping Veronica decide which of three extremely attractive outfits she should wear, she was not certain of her reactions. She was horrified to discover her sister-in-law inspired within her heart both fascination and a strange repulsion.

  Trudie and Philip had been invited as guests of honor, to be members of the party on the head platform. When they arrived there was a good crowd already present, and as they made their way to the platform Trudie’s heart lifted as she caught sight of Malcolm among the officials already gathered. She left Philip’s side for a moment, delighted to see her brother present although he had vowed repeatedly that on no account would he be present at “this junketing, even if it is in a good cause.”

  “Glad you decided to come,” she said quietly in his ear. “Veronica will be delighted ... she’s said many times how much she wished you could be present.”

  “I’m not delighted,” Malcolm almost snapped. “Frank Chambers was to do this, but he slipped this morning, and he’s somewhere in St. Catherine’s, Casualty, I suppose, having broken bones in his ankle set or whatever.”

  “It’s an ill wind,” Trudie whispered mischievously, then, seeing Philip frown as he looked around for her, she moved away to her appointed place and rejoined him at the other side of the little group.

  “It’s a perfect day,” Philip whispered as she came to sit beside him on the hard chairs provided. “Look at the crowds! I think most of them would have come even if we’d had to hold the thing in the marquee. Veronica must be a bigger attraction than we thought.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Trudie murmured, adding because it was true and because her generous heart prompted her to say it, “Doesn’t she look lovely? Really like a film actress.”

  Veronica had indeed more than justified Dora’s belief in her as an “attraction.” She was wearing a slim-fitting dress of almost dazzling white, with a scarlet belt exactly matching the stones in her long earrings and bracelet, scarlet and white shoes, and an off-the-face white lace hat surmounting the swinging curtain of gloriously black hair. She stood erect and completely mistress of herself, the sun shining down on her, her lips laughing. Her whole person said how delighted she was to be there and what a success she hoped to make of the day. Overhead a plane winged its way to Fellfield airport, but no one in the crowds listening to Veronica’s brief speech, carefully vetted previously by Dora and Dr. Hislop, noticed. They listened while she outlined the work of the charity on whose behalf the fete was being held, and while she appealed, in her attractive, husky tones, for them to loosen their purse-strings and to give generously for such a good cause. At last, with a pretty, graceful air Veronica concluded her speech and declared the event open. She was just receiving the official bouquet of scarlet and white carnations from a bashful little girl, when the telephone rang in Marley House, where the fete was being held.

  The crowd were seething around the various stalls. A number of people had pressed close to the platform, anxious to experience a little closer contact with the famous Veronica Fleet. Malcolm, from his position at the back of the platform, watched with a cynical smile on his face. This was what she wanted life to be, he reflected: crowds, adulation, the limelight. Beside him, pushing to try and reach Philip, one of the household staff asked anxiously for help in clearing a passage to the surgeon.

  “Telephone call from the police,” he told Malcolm. “A plane’s just crashed, coming in to Fellfield airport. Chap piloting it is hurt and they need Dr. Malham ... seems he’s some important chap from the States, over here on holiday.”

  Malcolm went ahead, clearing the way in his customary brisk and official fashion, until he reached Philip’s side. Trudie was with him, but this was another of those occasions when Philip had no glance to spare for the girl who wore his ring. In common with so many others crowding around the platform, he was watching Veronica. She, Malcolm noted with a scowl, was aware of Philip’s admiring glance.

  “Sorry to drag you away, Malham,” he said brusquely, “but there’s an urgent message for you,” and he pushed the man forward, automatically listening as he repeated his words.

  “Name of Barry Vetch or something like that,” the man said. “Seems he’s some sort of bigwig on a holiday spree.”

  “Where have they taken him?” Philip interrupted. “I’d like him at the extension. The equipment’s more up-to-date; the distance from the airport is about the same either to there or to St. Catherine’s.

  “I think that’s where they said, sir,” the man told him, “but I can check.
They’re still on the line. They wanted to make certain I’d contacted you.”

  “Yes, yes, do that, please,” Philip said urgently. Then he turned to Trudie. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “but I’d like you with me. Do you mind leaving all this?”

  “Of course not.” Trudie could hardly tell him that his words more than made up for any disappointment in having to leave so soon. All the same she could not control a sharp pang of disappointment as she saw that Philip first intended to have a word with Veronica. Nor could she help the small sense of satisfaction as she saw him turn away disappointed, for Veronica had apparently been swallowed up by a crowd of eager autograph-hunters and could not be seen anywhere.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Barry Vetch...” Trudie spoke the name aloud, watching Philip’s hands on the wheel and thinking of the young man to whose aid they were speeding. “I’ve read something about him somewhere, I’m certain of that.”

  “Rings a bell.” Philip was concentrating on the traffic and did not sound really interested. “I think he was connected with the Vetch ventures into show business a few years ago. They’re really oil. Struck a marvellous well or whatever a generation or so back. I imagine this is the younger son; the one whose hobby seems to be spending the millions of dollars from the apparently unending gush of oil.”

  “That’s right,” Trudie remembered suddenly. “I think Veronica was appearing in one of these shows that flopped—that was the word Garth used in his letter—when they met. I knew I’d heard or read the name somewhere.”

  “I don’t suppose she would see much of him.” Philip speeded up now they were on the highway and the new extension drew nearer every second. “I imagine chaps like that concentrate on the stars of their shows. She may have met him, of course.”

  “Of course,” Trudie agreed, and they both lapsed into silence until the gates of the extension were in sight. Just inside the drive Philip slowed down and turned to look fully at the person beside him.