THE COMPLETE TRILOGY, COMPENDIUM OF THE HEART: An epic love story

by RJ Hunter

  He used to love watching her in action, especially if he were the object of her devious machinations. He loved the subtle build-up, the attention lavished upon him, the teasing, and then - his eventual ensnarement. Seeing Sandra expose her raw, passionate desires so skilfully and unashamedly not only evoked feelings of revulsion from him, but excitement too.

  Now he was to discover that Sandra could use her manipulative power to equal effect even when putting pen to paper. It was a long letter. Despite Sandra's obvious faults, she was a very emotional woman, who would always speak her mind over anything she felt strongly about. Nick could even imagine her writing it, sitting up late into the night, face pack on, and wine glass in hand, exuding elegant puffs of expensive cigarette smoke. She told him the inevitable, the news he knew would have to come. Sandra had lost her job over some minor indiscretion, as she put it. Along with the job, she had lost Craig and the rest of the fickle, parasitical crowd of hangers-on that cling like leeches to those scaling the heady heights of success.

  Sandra's downfall had been the drink. She had always had a weakness for it, but like everything else, she believed it was firmly under her control. Indeed, she had even utilised alcohol as an ally in her ascendancy up the corporate ladder. She felt that its effects made her witty, sexy and liberated from convention, and in the beginning she may have been right. But Sandra never stopped to think that these were attributes that she already possessed. In fact, for much of their married life there had been an uneasy truce between Sandra and the alcohol. Now it seemed there had been a shift of power, with the forces of addiction gaining a foothold in what was to be, a slow but decisive victory.

  Now she wanted Nick back, she needed him, only he could understand the true extent of her suffering and torment. She massaged his ego like nobody else could ever do, and immediately sowed the seeds of yearning and lust in Nick's vulnerable, lonely heart.

  Nick heard the familiar sound of metal meal trolleys being pulled across the hospital's uneven pathways. In the distance he could make out the distinctive figure of Reg doing his fair share of the work. Again, he began to wonder how he should put the news of his impending departure to a man he had grown to both admire and respect. However, there was still something preventing Nick from coming straight out with it, he knew what the problem was, but just couldn't seem to accept that something as base and primeval as love could undermine the fruits of nearly three years of hard study.

  He heard footsteps behind him, and the sound of feminine voices. Turning, he saw a dozen or more student nurses hurrying past, in order to get to the dining room for a quick cup of coffee and a chat before their afternoon shift began.

  The coach had delivered the nurses early from Westminster Hospital, where they were based, meaning they still had a good twenty minutes left before they were due to start work.

  His eyes eagerly searched through the group, hoping to see Laura once more. But they all looked so similar with their hair tied up, and wearing the same light blue dresses and black capes. He had assumed he'd recognise her immediately, but now he was beginning to think that perhaps she wasn't among the group after all. It had been over a week since that disastrous night at the club, where Roberto had made such a fool of himself.

  It was then, that he saw her, the cause of his uncertainty, the embodiment of the strange, potent force that defied the laws of logic. That same force that rode rough shod over his plans and academic aspirations. For there, in front of him, stood Laura, the reason for his indecision.

  He recognised her straight away, the glorious blonde hair - sadly, but meticulously pinned back, the delicate shape of her neck, her unmistakeable profile. But, she wouldn't acknowledge him. In his mind he willed her to turn around. He couldn't bear to think she was purposely ignoring him.

  He waited until it was time for the nurses to go to their respective wards. They filed out of the dining room with Nick walking just behind the group. Any moment now they would go their separate ways. There was a delay, it was a miracle. One of Nick's colleagues was trying to push his way out and past the girls with another of the meal trolleys. The nurses stopped and let the porter through, and it was then that Laura looked towards Nick. For a few moments, their eyes were firmly fixed on each others. He hesitated, before realising that at the very least he should smile or say something, even if it was just hello, but by then the moment was already lost, and the girls had moved outside. Nick knew he had to act quickly, and seeing that Laura was now walking on her own, he increased his pace and moved up alongside her.

  "Laura, I'm so glad to see you at last. I've been wondering what happened to you?"

  Looking a little startled, she stopped and glanced around to face him.

  "Oh, it's you," she replied stiffly, before continuing to walk ahead. "I had some time off, I went to Wales with my mother and little sister."

  The atmosphere was frosty to say the least, and Nick felt lost for words.

  "Listen, Laura - I need to talk to you, perhaps later and somewhere in private. There's something I need to explain."

  Laura stared at him coldly.

  "There's nothing we could possibly talk about Nick. You seem to have a short memory, like asking my friend out when you were married."

  "Laura, please, just give me the chance to tell you the truth." Nick never got to continue, as Laura quickened her pace and stepped into the building where her ward was located. He remained outside, while she pressed the button for the lift. She was trembling and felt tearful. She hadn't meant to be so awful to him, it must have been all her anguish and frustrations over the recent events reaching a peak. She could see him from the corner of her eye slowly turning to leave. Once she was sure he had his back to her, she turned her head and watched him go, while waiting for the lift to descend.

  Sister Wilcox sighed and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn as she finally reached the end of a thick pile of patient's medical notes she had been reading. There had been another new admission on the ward earlier that day, the fourth in the same week. No sooner had a patient died, when another seemed to appear ready to take their bed.

  She rolled her neck from side-to-side and arched her spine as she felt a twinge of pain in her lower back, the legacy of a lifetime devoted to the care of the elderly. Glancing over towards the packet of cigarettes sticking out of her cardigan pocket, she thought about popping out onto the fire escape stairs for a breath of air and a few drags of her only vice.

  Sister Wilcox could have left nursing and retired some years ago, after her husband had passed away. The mortgage had been paid off with quite a tidy sum left over, the children were all grown up with families of their own. So what was it that kept her there? It certainly wasn't the back-breaking, constant lifting of patients or the endless stream of bedpans that kept her in the job. It was the company. Just listening to the chatter of the other nurses on the ward, especially the young students doing their geriatric stints kept the veteran nurse on the payroll. She loved to hear of their escapades, mainly where men were involved, and would always be on hand to offer expert and much-needed advice. Hearing tales of lusty males being smuggled into the nurses quarters, or terrifying confrontations with haughty matrons reminded Sister Wilcox of her own youth, and indeed how she eventually came to meet the man she would marry.

  She reached for her navy blue cardigan, and glanced through the glass partition out onto the ward. It was getting near afternoon break time, and most of the nurses, not wanting to disturb sister were keeping busy talking to the patients, or finding odd jobs to do.

  The afternoons were certainly nowhere near as busy as the mornings. Many of the patients would be over at the rehabilitation hall, either playing bingo, or being subjected to a singer whisking them off on some sentimental musical odyssey back through time. Some of course, were far too frail or ill to attend, and would remain on the ward in bed, or dozing in the day room.

  As sister opened the office door, she noticed Laura emerge from behind the curtains drawn around th
e new patient's bed. She waved and beckoned the student nurse to come over.

  "It's ok, Laura, don't rush. It's nothing important - I'm just going out onto the stairs for a quick cigarette. Ask Staff Nurse Mullins and one of the other girls to go for their breaks, and just be around the office for me, in case the phone rings. Thank-you, I wont be too long."

  The sister was glad to have Laura back on the ward after she had taken time off recently. She instinctively knew the girl had what it took to be a good nurse, and felt more than comfortable leaving her in charge of things.

  Usually, they would have found a few moments to talk, either while making the beds or hauling some poor soul out of a nice hot bath. But today, that had not happened, and Sister Wilcox knew something was troubling Laura. Although the pretty young nurse was always totally efficient, the warm smile and the sparkle in her eyes seemed to be missing. It wasn't like her just to bury her head in her work, and avoid chatting to her colleagues. Something must have happened during her time off, deduced the sister as she took a long pull of her cigarette and surveyed the outlook from the fire escape stairs.

  Perhaps, she ought to ask Laura into the office for a talk, after all, it could well be work-related. She thought about his for a moment, then changed her mind, it was far too formal. She would simply just have a chat to her in the dining room, once the others came back.

  She was then disturbed from her thought process by someone coughing down below her. Taking a step back, she tried to be as quiet as possible, just in case she was seen smoking, not only in uniform, but out on the fire escape to make matters worse. After a short while, a smile appeared on the sister's face, and she stepped forward to lean over the railings.

  "Why, is that you lurking around down there, Mr. Watts?"

  "That sounds remarkably like that naughty Sister Wilcox sneaking a crafty cigarette, if I'm not mistaken!" Laughed the Head Porter, who was seated on a wooden bench just beneath her.

  "Don't be hard on me Reg, it's been one of those days, the patients are dropping like flies."

  A grinning Mr. Watts then appeared in her line of vision.

  "I'll join you in a smoke, if I may, Sylvia. I haven't seen you in ages?"

  "You would if you emerged from your office once in a while," replied the sister mockingly, before adding; "No, save your legs, Reg - I'll come down there."

  "Now it's your turn to be hard on me is it? Look, I'm out of my office and working like one of the lads!"

  "Well, we are honoured indeed! So what's the occasion?"

  "My, my, you never change lass," laughed Reg, as he led her over to the bench and proceeded to fumble in his pockets for his cigarettes.

  She watched as he first produced a pipe from the top pocket of his navy serge jacket, then a tin of hand-rolling tobacco from one of the side pockets, and then, a packet of tipped cigarettes from somewhere else.

  "Here, have one of mine," the sister remarked. "You seem totally incapable of making a decision this afternoon!"

  "Aye, you're right lass, do you know, I just can't make up my mind what to smoke, I really can't!"

  "I expect you've probably got a few cigars tucked away somewhere too?"

  "I have actually, now let me see, where are they?" He replied, starting the search all over again. "Nah, I think I'll just have a roll-up." He decided at long last. "Would you like one, Sylvia? I know you can roll 'em just as good as me."

  "Thank-you Reg, yes I think I will. I haven't had a roll-up for months, well not since the last time I sat out here with you!"

  Back up in the ward, a brilliant ray of warm sunlight poured in through the narrow sash-cord window. The stream of light illuminated tiny particles of dust in its wake as it settled nonchalantly on the old woman's gaunt face. The sun had finally carried out its threat and penetrated through the thick, sullen grey cloud that had blanketed much of London, and the South East of England for the last few days.

  Its soothing warmth somehow managed to breathe further life into a tired, worn-out body, a body that had survived rigours of life few could imagine. From tending to the sick and dying of the muddy, rat - infested trenches of the Somme, to miraculously surviving Hitler's bombing of London during the blitz. Violet Cummings never knew how to stop fighting, whether it be for the lives of the young servicemen during her youth, or trying to eke out a meagre living from her state pension.

  She remembered being in London one day during the summer of 1918. It had been shortly after her George had finally been discharged from, not only the hospital, but from the army too. He had been hit by machine gun fire which had shattered his right shoulder and penetrated his steel helmet. The surgeons had managed to piece most of his shoulder back together, but couldn't save his right eye.

  It had been a warm, but cloudy day in the capital and wanting to be alone they had ventured into Hyde Park, where they were to come across their own secluded, private paradise. It was a small, shaded patch of grass, close to the Serpentine, lying beneath the long tendril-like branches of a Willow tree.

  They carried with them a picnic of fresh crusty bread, ripe tomatoes and a hunk of tender home-cured ham. To compliment this and celebrate their new lives together, they shared a bottle of vintage claret, that George had been saving for an occasion just as this.

  When they had eaten their fill, George rolled up his jacket to act as a pillow for them, and they both lay down together giggling like school children, drinking in each other's company, making up for the long periods of separation they had endured.

  After a while, there was a silence between them, George could hear her gentle breathing, and reached out to place his arm around her shoulders. Violet, in turn, moved slightly onto her side and rested her head against his chest, listening to the strong, rhythmic beats of his heart.

  They lay like this, not uttering a word until a stream of sunlight broke through the slender branches to bathe them in a sea of gold, as if it were mother nature herself giving them her blessing. George pulled her closer to him, and Violet, closing her eyes to savour the moment she had dreamt of for so long snuggled into him contentedly.

  "George, what was it you wanted to ask me?" She whispered.

  The old woman had called out his name, over and over again in her delirium. Sensing he was near to her, calling her, she felt the warmth of his love, and reached out to touch him.

  "You've come for me, George, my love, I knew you would. Take my hand, show me where to go."

  The lift stopped abruptly, causing Nick to quickly try and steady the half-dozen new lockers he was taking up to Laura's ward. As the doors crashed open noisily, for some reason he assumed her just to be there waiting, as if she was expecting him. The ward however, was uncannily quiet as he popped his head out and looked for someone to assist. After a few moments of waiting, he used a special key to place the lift on 'hold' and began to take the lockers out, one-by-one.

  "What have we done to deserve these then?" Called out a cheery feminine voice behind him.

  He turned to see Betty, one of the auxiliary nurses already staking a claim to one of the lockers.

  "All of the wards are getting them. Apparently, there's been a few thefts recently." Replied Nick, trying to be helpful.

  "It wont work you know," said Betty, placing her hands on her generous hips. "The keys will get lost and we'll be back to stage one again."

  "Yes, you're probably right," was Nick's rather impatient answer. "Where shall I put them?"

  "In the changing room I suppose, I'll go and let the boss know." Since Sister Wilcox was still off the ward, Betty called out to Laura, who was busy changing a dressing.

  "Just tell him to leave them in the changing room, Betty." Said Laura, slightly peeved at being interrupted.

  "I already did, but he needs a signature for his requisition book."

  "Well since Staff Nurse Mullins is on her break, I'll have to sign it, I suppose. Can you finish the dressing on Peggy's bed sores please?"

  As Laura made her way to the changing ro
oms, Betty saw her stop at a sink to wash her hands. She then noticed Laura peer into the mirror to check her appearance, and put right the few wisps of blonde hair that had gone astray from beneath her starched, white nurse's cap. She then walked purposely into the changing room.

  About twenty feet away, Violet rose up from her bed and looked about her. She pulled back the sheets, and with a determined effort, swung her legs over the side and managed to sit herself up. The sun was still shining relentlessly into her face as she lurched forward unsteadily and grasped the back of a chair for support. Her eyesight was very poor, and she had to feel her way down the ward, past the other beds, and towards the staircase next to the lift.

  "Can I help you?" Asked Laura, in a direct manner.

  Nick, turned and fixed a smile on her.

  "Well, yes, I've been sent to deliver these. I'll come by and collect the old ones if you leave them out." He replied, realising his smile was having little effect.

  "Fine, okay. I understand you want me to sign something?"

  Nick passed Laura his requisition book and watched intently as she tried to decipher the near-ineligible writing.

  "Laura, please. I only want a chance to explain. It's not what you might think."

  She signed the book, and practically threw it back to him.

  "You're married Nick, and you led poor Tina along, that's what I think. Perhaps hurting someone like that doesn't mean an awful lot to someone like you does it?"

  Laura, please listen. My wife and I are separated. She lives in the other side of London, and I live about ten minutes from here, in college digs. Our marriage is finished."

  "Why should I believe you, and why should I care, come to that?"

  "Because it's the truth, you can ask Roberto, he'll tell you."