“What’s wrong?” her mother asked anxiously.
Clare opened her eyes and tried to smile at the plump, short woman with greying hair and smiling mouth.
“The wedding’s off,” she said flatly. “Peter’s changed his mind.”
“Changed his mind?” her mother gasped.
Clare felt suddenly cold as she slid the blue cape from her shoulders and hung it on the peg in the hall. “Yes, there’s another girl,” she said dully.
“Left it a bit late, hasn’t he?” her father said from the doorway, his face shocked.
Clare looked at the thin, bald man with the tired, rounded shoulders and tried to smile. “Better now than later, Dad.”
Her mother hustled her into the kitchen and stood over her while she drank a cup of hot tea.
“Clare’s right, you know, Father. All the same—”
“It wasn’t easy for – Peter,” Clare said slowly. She looked at them, the two people Who loved her so unselfishly. “I’ll be all right. I’ll get a job overseas. I’ve always wanted to travel.”
She saw the relief on their faces, could read their thoughts: This would be the best thing for the poor girl.
She would surely meet someone else. And their trip would not be spoiled!
Her father fidgeted. “I hate to leave you, Clare, but we’re late already at the office and—”
Clare’s mother moved swiftly, fetching his overcoat, bowler hat and dispatch case. “I’m not coming today, dear,” she said briskly, adding: “There’s too much to be done here.”
“I’m sorry, dear child,” Clare’s father said as he stooped to kiss her. “This is a sad time for you.”
“I’ll be all right,” Clare said.
When he had gone, she looked at her mother. “I’m so tired. Think I’ll have a bath.”
Her mother smiled. “Good idea. I’ll bring you something to eat in bed. I’ve things to do.”
Suddenly fearful, Clare asked: “What things?” Was her mother planning to phone Peter?
Her mother smiled again as if she could read Clare’s thoughts. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m just phoning an announcement to the papers and then I’ll start unpacking the presents. We haven’t got long.”
“What will you say?” Clare asked.
She had not told them the entire truth — that Peter had said it was all her fault and that he had never wanted to marry her. She was too ashamed to tell them that.
“Just that the marriage has been cancelled by mutual consent,” her mother said briskly. “After all, that’s what engagements are for, Glare, a time during which you make up your mind.”
“Oh, Mummy,” Clare said, tears perilously near.
No scene, no trouble for questions, just standing by to help her. She took a long deep breath. “I think I’ll have a bath and then give you a hand. I can sleep later.”
“Good idea, darling. Soon be done if we both work at it,” was all her mother said.
Four hours later, Clare literally fell into her bed, so exhausted that she knew nothing until she awoke and her mother was standing there, with her breakfast. Her father was there, too, looking concerned. Clare knew that he was worried because she was so composed, ‘but he little knew of the tears she had shed as she lay in the bath.
How she dreaded going to the hospital. Her feet dragged. Somehow she walked inside, her head held high. What should she do or say? Just go up to everyone and tell them that she and Peter had changed their minds? Put a notice up on the board?
But as she hurried into the big building she realized that they already knew. She saw the pity in eyes that avoided hers, heard the awkwardness in voices as they talked of everything but the broken engagement. They all knew the truth. That Peter did not love her. Maybe they had always known it? Had always despised her?
There was plenty to do in the ward that night, fortunately, but – as, usual – there came the long quiet spell as she sat alone under the dim blue-shaded light. The aching misery swept over her as she sat there.
“Hi, Clare!” a voice said softly.
Glare looked up and saw Eileen Mullins’ friendly face. The tall dark-haired girl slid into the spare chair.
“I had to come along for a second to say how sorry I am,” she said softly in Clare’s ear. “What happened?
You said nothing this morning.”
“I’d no idea this morning,” Clare confessed. “He– I went round to his flat and he – well, I guessed.”
Eileen sighed. “I never did trust him. ‘IT was a mean trick to play, waiting till the last moment like this.” She looked anxiously at Clare. “Don’t take it so hard, my darling. You’re well rid of him.”
“I promised I’d tell everyone when I got here tonight, but—”
Eileen frowned. “I heard tell they were ribbing him hard about losing his freedom, and you know the quick temper the man has? He said the whole thing was off–by mutual consent.”
Clare tried to smile. “Who’ll believe that? Everyone knows I’m crazy about him. It wasn’t his fault, Eileen.
The blame’s all mine.” Her cheeks were hot as Eileen looked at her. “He never loved me. I just jumped to conclusions.”
“Is-that his tale, now?” Eileen demanded.
“It’s not a tale,” Clare said wearily. “I’ve thought and thought, and he’s right, Eileen. I did take it for granted that he wanted to marry me and—”
“Who’s the girl?” Eileen hissed.
Clare caught her breath. Eileen was only, voicing the thought that must be in everyone’s mind.
One of the patients stirred and moaned, and Clare hastened to the bedside, straightening the crumpled sheet, soothing the elderly woman.
Eileen was still waiting as Clare walked back.
“It’s a girl in his home town,” Clare said dully. “He met her several years ago, but it was only seven months ago when his mother was sick that he realized he loved her.”
“Yet he got engaged to you?”
Glare played with the desk pen. “He said I rushed him into it. That I misunderstood something he did.”
Eileen stood up, her starched apron rustling, her mouth a firm line. “That’s a story I find hard to believe.
I’ve seen no sign of Peter going back to his home these past months.”
Clare looked at her miserably. “Maybe she lives in London. They must have been meeting.”
Eileen glanced at her watch. “Help, I must fly! What are your plans? I know your folk’ll be away soon—”
“That’s part of my problem,” Clare admitted. “I’m seeing Matron in the morning, I hope, and getting a post overseas.”
Eileen touched Clare’s shoulder lightly. “Try not to take it too badly, my darling. It’ll work out, you’ll see.
‘Bye for now,” she added, and hurried away.
Clare watched the swing doors close and was alone again with her thoughts. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to relive again and again the night Peter proposed to her, or, as she had thought, he did.
Somehow the long night dragged by and then there was the usual morning rush before she could leave the ward, but at last she was free to hurry along the busy corridors, knowing that more than anything she longed to hurry home and escape from the curious pitying eyes that seemed to follow her wherever she went. First she must try to see Matron.
She caught her breath with dismay. Barry!’ As he always said, quoting his beloved uncle, a promise was a promise.
As she hurried down the corridors, avoiding the eyes of the nurses and interns she passed, the pain inside her seemed to grow, gnawing relentlessly at her.
Outside Barry’s door, she fixed a smile on her face.
But as she went in she saw that Barry, too, knew. The grapevine of a big hospital is swift-acting and cruel. He was propped up in bed, his thin little face worried.
“Hi, Barry!” she began cheerfully.
“You don’t have to ‘tend with me,” Barry said gravely. “I know how you feel. I
’m sorry.”
“How I feel?” She still tried to joke, but her face felt stiff.
His deeply set, dark blue eyes were mournful. “I know how it feels to be rejected.”
Rejected!
The word was like a sword, piercing her. Yet it was the right word, for it described exactly how she felt.
Barry’s hand went out and she gave him hers, feeling a strange comfort in the way he squeezed her fingers.
“Try not to mind,” he said gravely. “My stepmother rejected me, you know.”
“Oh, Barry darling.” Clare lifted the thin little hand to her cheek. “I’m sure your stepmother had a reason.”
“She had,” he told her. “She didn’t want me.”
Clare looked at him. What was her pain in compari-son Xo his? She had devoted, understanding parents.
How would she have felt if she belonged to no one — and knew that her mother had not wanted her?
Suddenly Barry’s face brightened. “I’ve got an idea.
Would you marry me when I’m grown up?”
Clare was startled. “Marry you?” She looked at him.
“Barry darling, I’m most honoured, but—”
He was wriggling about in his bed. “Of course we’d have to wait for years and years, but we could be engaged as soon as I get a job. Uncle David says I’ll be like other men — able to work and get married, and, Nurse, I do like you and you do like me?” His voice was suddenly sad.
Impulsively she hugged him, her cheek brushing his.
“Barry darling, of course I like you. Very very much, but—” She moved away, looking at him gravely. “We must consider everything,” she said, speaking ‘as she had often heard his uncle talk to him. “We might, change our minds one day and—”
“I know,” Barry answered with equal gravity. “And we must each promise that if we change our minds, we’ll tell the other. That’s understood?”
Recognizing another expression Barry’s uncle often used, Clare echoed it: “That’s understood.” They smiled at one another. Then Clare glanced at her watch. “Barry, I must go. I’ve got to see Matron and—”
He grabbed at her hand. “Don’t go. Not yet. Not just yet. Please — please — Uncle David wants to see you. I can’t tell you why, but it’s a frightfully ‘citing secret, and Uncle David says you must never betray a secret.”
There was a’ desperate urgency in Barry’s voice.
Each time she came to see him, she had so little time to spare. Was that the way everyone behaved with him?
“Barry darling, I really must see Matron, and—”
The door opened and she saw the relief on Barry’s face. As she turned her head, Doctor Johnson spoke quietly.
“I was afraid I’d ‘missed you.”
“I didn’t tell her, Uncle David. I kept our secret,”
Barry said, bouncing up and down.
“Hi, young feller!” Doctor Johnson said, resting his hand on the excited boy’s shoulder. “You know what you promised me?”
Barry was still, his eyes bright. “You’ll tell her?”
The big man nodded. “You know I will.” He turned to Clare, his voice formal. “May .I drive you home?
There’s something I want to ask you.”
As he spoke, he took her arm, and in the same moment, the door opened and a nurse stood there, eyes wide with curiosity. Clare caught her breath. More whispers round the hospital!
“See you tomorrow, Barry,” Clare said. She looked at the man by her side, still holding her arm. “I’ve simply got to see Matron at once, Doctor.”
He hurried her down the corridor. “It can wait,” he said almost curtly. “This is more important.”
She was breathless from the rate he walked, and both stood silently, waiting for the lift. On the ground floor they walked through the big gloomy hall and out into the busy morning world.
Doctor Johnson helped her into his black shining car and drove away. She sat up quickly, looking at him.
“But this isn’t the way to Chelsea.”
He frowned thoughtfully, his dark, heavily-marked brows drawn together. “I know.”
“But my mother will be worried.”
“She knows. I telephoned her,” he said simply.
“You – did what?” Clare gasped.
“You heard me,” he said dryly.
She twisted sideways to stare at him worriedly.
“But—”
He looked at her briefly, half smiling. “I assure you that I don’t propose to kidnap you,” he said, his voice dry. “But I have something to discuss with you, and I thought St. James’s Park would be a good place.” He looked ahead as if the matter was dismissed.
She sat in silence, staring at the traffic-filled roads, the buses, the rows of cars crawling, the crowds of men and women hurrying along the pavements.
What could he have to discuss with her? What could be important enough to take Doctor Johnson away from the hospital at one of the busiest hours of the day, and make him go to the trouble to find out her address and telephone her mother?
At last they reached the park, the grey water reflect-ing the trees. He stopped the car and turned to her and began bluntly:
“I won’t waste time discussing the cancellation of your marriage plans,” he said curtly, “because I’m hoping that Barry may benefit as a result. I’ve been trying to find a suitable nurse for the boy, a girl willing to come to Australia with us and stay for six months.”
He paused and looked at her, then continued, his voice impersonal:
“I don’t anticipate any relapse on Barry’s part, but I shall always be at least a hundred miles away from him.
My brother and his wife have little idea about post-operative treatment. Barry is no longer an invalid, but his activities must be controlled. He must also learn to adjust himself to his new life. He likes you and would, I.
believe, obey you. Will you take the post?”
She caught her breath as the words sank into her brain and the dull sluggish pain that had filled her seemed to lift a little. Here was a way out. A way of escape. Barry really needed her.
This was a solution, the answer to her problem. No longer need her parents talk of postponing their trip round the world. No longer would there be people to stare at her and pity her.
“Well, what about it?” Doctor Johnson said impatiently.
“I’d – oh, I’d love to take the job,” she said, the words coming in a little rush, her voice unsteady. She looked away quickly, but not before he had seen the tears in the dark-lashed green eyes.
“Good,” he said curtly. “Now, I want to meet your parents.”
She turned round, startled. “But I don’t need their permission,” she said. “I’m twenty-three years old and—”
He lifted his thick dark brows. “I’m aware of that.
It’s simply that I would like to meet them. Any objection?”
She was puzzled. What a strange mixture he was.
Obviously a man used to having his own way – abrupt, stern, dominant yet gentle. , .
“Of course not,” she said, feeling a sudden warmth fill her. “Thank you for offering me the job,” she added.. He glanced down at her. “And thank you for taking . He glanced down at her. “And thank you for taking it. I don’t think you’ll regret it.”
He switched on the ignition. The powerful engine hummed sweetly. His strong hands lay lightly on the steering wheel.
Clare glanced at them and then at his quiet face.
“I’m sure I won’t, Doctor,” she said.
CHAPTER TWO
“THERE’S Noorla Homestead, Clare,” said David, as the big powerful car moved along the corrugated red earth road, leaving a cloud of dust in its path.
Clare stared eagerly at the distant cluster of buildings and trees she could barely see as they wound their way between tall anthills and past clumps of trees.
She glanced at the man who was driving. In the half-dozen days it had
taken them to fly from England —a slow journey because of the overnight stops as Barry had been so air-sick, despite medication — Clare had grown to know David Johnson very well. Perhaps because they were united in the task of keeping Barry physically fit and happy. Perhaps because the small boy had slept a lot and David and Clare had been alone together.
It had been David who, in the beginning, insisted they drop formality and call one another by their Chris-tian names. It had not been easy to call the good-looking, impressive doctor “David” though he easily called her “Clare” and Barry had insisted on doing the same. Clare and David had impressed on him that he must still obey Clare, and he had given one of his solemn promises.
Now Clare looked round eagerly, at the distant line of hills, at the homestead where she would spend the Next six months. Of course, David had told them all about it, that day he had met her parents. How impressed they had been by the big sun-tanned man with the dark, smooth hair and authoritative voice. He had said frankly that he hoped Clare would remain in Australia permanently, as they needed nurses of her kind. He had shown them photographs of the homestead and the family. Clare had looked curiously at the tall, lovely woman with the laughing face who was Val, David’s sister-in-law; and at Ian, his brother, an older, more heavily built, serious man. There were photographs of the two girls — Marge, nine years old and a real tomboy, and Zoe, eleven, a thin girl with long dark plaits and an intense face.
Later, David Johnson had startled the Butler family by casually announcing the large salary that Clare would be paid, plus, of course, her first-class return fare to England.
Luggage had been something of a problem, for air travel allowed only so much weight and Clare’s two uniforms were surprisingly bulky. David had particu-_
larly stated that he did not want her to wear uniform on the flight. They were sure to be interviewed by the press, he said, for Barry’s hole-in-the-heart operation had aroused much interest, and he wanted it emphas-ized that Barry no longer needed a nurse — and that she was merely there to help him over the difficult adjustments that lay ahead of him as he began the life of a normal boy. And David had been right. As they landed on Australian soil, the press had been there, clicking cameras, asking questions, making comments. There had been some talk of incubators and iron lungs, but Barry had suddenly turned temperamental and Clare’s attention had been centred on him.
The doctors choice Page 2