The Little Runaways

by Cathy Sharp

  ‘I do think you should make time to talk to me,’ Carole said, still in that deceptively pleasant tone. ‘I was going to telephone you, but there has been so much going on …’

  ‘Yes, I know – and I’ve got to leave shortly, I’m afraid. If you can’t talk now it will have to be another day. I really just wanted to apologise again.’

  ‘Perhaps you should take a few minutes,’ she said. ‘If you’re at all interested in your child … your child and mine …’

  She felt a thrill of gratification when she saw the colour leave his face. She had really taken the wind out of his sails now. His face was a picture as he struggled to take in the news, unable to process it properly. He looked so devastated that for a moment she almost felt sorry for him – but no one dumped Carole the way he had and got away with it.

  ‘Are you certain? I mean it’s not very long since … hardly a month …’

  ‘Sure I’m pregnant or sure it’s yours?’ Carole glared at him. ‘The answer is yes to both questions, because I’ve missed a period and I never do.’

  ‘I was only asking one of them,’ Mark said quietly. There was a strained silence before he spoke again. For a moment she thought he was going to deny her, to demand that she have an abortion or protest that it must be someone else’s child, as he would if he had any memory of that night at the hotel. He really had been too drunk to know that he’d just gone to sleep, but Carole had let him think they’d been lovers the next morning. At last he seemed to take a grip on himself, lifting his head in a determined effort, though the words came out as a strangled whisper, ‘Carole, I’m pleased – if you are? A child … well, that’s something I’ve wanted for a long time. We’ll marry, of course – if it’s what you want?’

  ‘Are you saying you don’t?’

  ‘No, of course I’m not. Look, Carole, this isn’t the place or the time to discuss something so personal – but be assured that I’m happy about the child and I do want to do the right thing for all of us.’

  ‘Mark, you do care about me?’

  He hesitated and then gave her what she thought of as a forced smile. ‘You know I find you attractive – and I’m sure we can work something out.’

  ‘All right,’ she smiled back, feeling a glow of pleasure at her own cleverness. He’d thought he was going to dump her but she’d make sure he was fairly caught, even though he was clearly reluctant. She would soon have him eating out her hand once she got him into bed properly, and she needed to as soon as possible. ‘We’ll talk when you get back to London, Mark. Have a good trip.’

  ‘It will be anything but that,’ he said grimly. ‘It’s something I have to do – and now I have to leave for my appointments in the country.’

  Carole nodded and he left her. She went back to her work, checking the medicines after the ward round and locking the cupboard. Beds were made, the patients were washed and settled, medicines swallowed. Now she had little to do for the next hour or so but sit and write her notes and think … think about the lie she’d just told.

  Mark had looked shocked when she’d told him she was pregnant. She’d seen him struggling with the news and she sensed that he’d spoken out of concern for the child he believed she was carrying. He wouldn’t marry her if he remembered the truth; realised that he’d done little more than kiss and touch her before falling asleep. He’d been tired and the wine had done its work too well. Yet there was no doubt that he wanted a child … somehow she had to convince him to take her to bed and hope that by the time they got married she had managed to conceive one.

  She wasn’t quite sure what she’d do if it didn’t happen. Could she get away with telling him she’d made a mistake or would she have to invent a miscarriage? She’d worry about that later; for now, her plan was working.

  Angela was walking down the stairs a few days later when she saw Mark enter St Saviour’s. It was now the beginning of April and for the first time it felt a little warmer. He smiled and waited in the hall for her to reach him. She thought he looked uncertain and awkward, and her heart went out to him because she sensed something was wrong.

  ‘I was hoping to see you. I wanted you to be one of the first to know – I’m engaged to Carole.’

  The news came as a shock, and sent her senses reeling, but she tried to keep a check on her feelings. She felt as if he’d slapped her and the pain seared her like a hot knife. For a moment she found it difficult and struggled to respond, and in the end all she could say was, ‘I can only wish you happy, Mark. I’m sure you will be. Carole is a very pretty girl.’

  Angela wasn’t sure how she managed to keep her smile in place, because even though she’d known Mark had taken Carole out a few times, she hadn’t expected this and it hurt – far more than she would ever have imagined.

  Mark’s smile was clearly forced as he replied, ‘Yes, she is. I have no idea why she wants to marry me – but it seems she does.’

  ‘She is a lucky girl,’ Angela said warmly. ‘When do you intend to marry?’

  ‘Quite soon I think – no sense in waiting about. She might change her mind.’

  ‘I’m sure she won’t.’

  ‘No … Carole has informed me she’s having my child.’ He looked rueful, uncertain, making Angela catch her breath as regret smote her. ‘I have no choice … forgive me.’

  The further revelation that Mark and Carole were sleeping together was another blow, but she forced the words out. ‘A child? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?’ Angela asked. ‘I’m sure you will be very happy …’

  ‘I shall welcome the child …’ He sounded a little desperate, as if willing her to understand, but she was too hurt to respond and awkwardly, trying to put on a bright smile, tried to force the conversation on to other things instead.

  ‘You will be coming to Sister Beatrice’s little party in her office this Thursday? She wants to thank us for helping her when Terry …’ Angela avoided looking at him. ‘How did you get on yesterday? I suppose there is no better news?’

  ‘Angela, please try to understand about Carole …’ It was a cry from his heart.

  She swallowed her desire to demand why he seemed so desperate for her understanding when he’d obviously been in the throes of a passionate love affair with the nurse. But there was no point. ‘I’m happy for you – but you didn’t tell me if there is news of Terry …’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Mark made an effort to rein his emotions in, to keep things on a professional level, but the strain still showed on his face. ‘Not yet. I doubt there will be unless they try some shock therapy – and I’m not sure he isn’t better off as he is, but that isn’t for me to decide, thank goodness. He is in his specialist’s hands now.’

  ‘It is a private clinic, isn’t it? Who is paying for Terry’s treatment?’

  ‘I requested he be admitted.’ Their eyes met and Angela’s heart lurched. ‘Please don’t worry about it, Angela. I’m on the Board and we’ll find the money, somehow.’

  For a moment Angela was struck by what a good man he was – why he’d become so important to her – and felt a need to let him know in some small way. ‘Mark, that is so like you,’ she said, touching his hand. ‘Now, really, I must fly. I have a lot of work to get through and I’m busy this evening …’

  ‘Who is the lucky man – Nick?’

  ‘No, I have a charity meeting to attend,’ Angela said. ‘It’s a housing committee.’

  Mark frowned, then, ‘I thought you were serious about Nick?’

  ‘No, we’ll only ever be friends – but I’m afraid that may not be enough for Nick. Goodbye, Mark.’ Angela walked past him and through the door. She didn’t look back but could sense he had turned to watch her. She’d had to walk off or she might have given herself away … revealed how much the news had really hurt her.

  ‘Have you been avoiding me?’ Nick asked when Angela answered her door to him that Saturday morning. He was carrying a bunch of roses, which he presented with a flourish. She held them to her nose but
they were out of a hothouse and had no smell. ‘May I come in?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Angela said, and smiled. ‘I was just making coffee – and I’ve baked a seed cake. You’ve called at the right moment, but I warn you the cake is an experiment. I’ve never made it before.’

  ‘Then I shall be the sacrificial lamb,’ Nick teased, and followed her in. ‘I’ve called several times recently but you’re never here.’

  ‘On Thursday I stayed late to have a sherry with Sister Beatrice and there have been a couple of charity meetings – oh, and I went out to dinner with friends the other week,’ Angela said, indicating that he should sit down as she went to bring a tray through from her kitchen. ‘Then I have rehearsals for our concert every evening. We planned it for Easter, but with all that’s been happening I had to put it back for a while, so it will be later this month.’

  ‘The fundraising been going well?’

  ‘Yes, pretty well, though we shall always need more.’

  ‘How long are you going to carry on working there?’ Nick asked, watching as she poured coffee exactly the way he liked it and then cut the cake. He took a tiny bite and discovered that it was crisp on the edges and soft inside, the taste rather delicious. ‘You’re a better cook than you think – but of course you wouldn’t need to do your own cooking if we were married …’

  ‘Nick!’ Angela gave him a warning look. ‘I love the flowers and you’re always welcome to call as a friend – but, please, no more talk of marriage.’ She couldn’t even think about this when she was hurting so much inside.

  He stood up, tall, handsome and imposing, taking her hands to pull her to her feet and gaze into her eyes. She felt a tingle of something like desire deep inside, but resisted it. ‘You are a beautiful woman, Angela, and too young to live alone for the rest of your life. I know you loved John – but you’re not indifferent to me. You liked it when we kissed, please do not deny it.’

  ‘I shan’t deny it,’ Angela said, and gazed up at him frankly. ‘You are a special man, Nick, and some woman will be very lucky to be your wife – but that woman isn’t me. I’m sorry. I won’t deny that I’ve been tempted to go to get closer to you. I’m not frigid and I do get lonely … very lonely at times, but I’m not ready to marry – and if I were it would not be to you, Nick. You see, I’ve known real love and I want that again.’

  ‘I care for you deeply. You could learn to love me …’

  ‘No, Nick. Love isn’t like that, you know it isn’t. When it comes it hits you for six and you can’t think of anything but the person you love – I don’t feel that way about you. I’m sorry and I don’t want to hurt you …’

  ‘So you have been avoiding me! It was your way of giving me the brush-off … did you think I would just get fed up and fade away?’

  ‘You’re angry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to make you angry, but I can only give you the truth. If you were interested in friendship … but you aren’t, are you? It’s a full-on love affair or nothing, and I’m afraid it has to be nothing. Nick … please, forgive me?’

  ‘Why the hell should I?’ he said, and the look he sent her gave Angela the shivers. ‘Stay in your safe little world and may you rot there.’ He almost spat the words at her. ‘You’re a damned fool and one day you will wake up and regret what you’ve thrown away.’

  Angela did not answer, stunned into silence by the ferocity of his words. He looked at her angrily for a few moments and then walked to the door and went out, slamming it after him so furiously that a vase toppled from a small table and fell to the floor, breaking in two.

  She stood staring at the door and the broken vase, her throat tight and her eyes stinging with tears. Nick sounded as if he hated her, and she felt the pain of it ripple through her. Of course she wasn’t indifferent to him; he was attractive and masculine and she’d been very tempted to go for the life he’d offered, but it wasn’t what she wanted now. Once she might have settled for being the wife of a rich man, but now she wanted so much more … she wanted Mark Adderbury. It was clear to her now, but he was promised to someone else.

  Angela walked across the room feeling numbed. She bent down to retrieve the pieces of the vase she’d really liked and took them into the kitchen. Staring at the roses Nick had brought, which she’d put in a bowl of water ready to arrange later, she was inclined to put them in the waste-bin together with the broken vase, but she couldn’t do it. The roses were beautiful and they couldn’t help it that Nick had upset her.

  She took a vase and began to cut the stems and place them in water. It wasn’t the end of the world because Nick had walked out on her, but Mark Adderbury was engaged to Carole and that left a peculiarly empty feeling inside her. Mark had been such a staunch friend that she felt his desertion more than Nick’s – even though it was dog-in-the-mangerish of her.

  Nick had every right to be annoyed. It probably seemed to him that she’d used him, but she’d thought it was enough to be friends.

  And now she’d lost her best friend … a man she’d loved without really knowing it all this time.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Michelle looked at the pattern for a baby’s dress and the white wool she’d managed to buy on the market that morning. Knitting it would give her something to do when she was at home on her afternoons off or in the evenings, because now that Alice didn’t have the money to go out dancing or to the flicks, and Sally was courting, Michelle found herself staying home more. Besides, her friend was going to need all the extras she could get and she wasn’t even sure that Alice could knit, though she knew she’d been putting little things by for a while.

  ‘What are you making that for?’ Michelle’s mother asked, frowning as she came in and saw her settled by the fire with the pattern and white wool. ‘Michelle, you’re not in trouble, are you?’

  ‘No, Mum, I’m not,’ Michelle said, looking at her mother’s anxious face. Sometimes, she seemed so thin and pale it worried Michelle. ‘It’s for a friend of mine – one of the girl’s at St Saviour’s.’

  ‘Good.’ Her mother smiled wearily. ‘You know we rely on you, love. Your father’s scarcely ever in work since his chest got so bad. I’m not sure how we could cope with another mouth to feed and you’d be out of work.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t going to happen,’ Michelle said. ‘When I want babies I’ll find a husband first – and at the moment that isn’t on my horizon.’

  ‘You’re a good girl. I shouldn’t doubt you. It’s just that I can hardly manage as it is and your brothers seem to grow out of their clothes as soon as I buy them – Freddie ought to have new things if he’s going to senior school, but I don’t see how we can afford them …’

  ‘No point in buying him new, Mum,’ Michelle said. ‘If you get him a pair of long trousers he’ll put his knee through them the first time he gets into a fight. I bought this wool cheap on the market – and next week I’ll see what I can find for Freddie. Trust me, I won’t buy rubbish.’

  ‘You should be saving to get married, not having to look after us.’

  ‘I don’t want to marry anyone, not for years anyway.’

  Michelle’s mother sighed and took some clothes that had been airing before the fire, leaving the kitchen with her arms filled. She was looking weary again and Michelle worried about her; she worried about all her family. Her father was on the verge of consumption, though he hadn’t admitted it to her or any of his family and would hide it for as long as he could. Even though he never kissed anyone or coughed over them, Michelle knew he ought to go away and be treated, but until he gave in and conceded he needed to see a doctor there was nothing she could do.

  Feeling worried, Michelle glanced at her knitting. She ought not to be fed up, when her friend was in far worse trouble. Michelle had loving parents and a good home, even if it was damp and unhealthy. She was fond of Alice and wondered what was going to happen to her when she finally had to leave St Saviour’s, which she must soon. Alice had no chance of getting married if she continued to think
of that rogue who had got her into trouble. All Michelle could hope was that her friend would come to her senses and think about marrying the one man who cared about her.

  Alice left St Saviour’s late on that Friday night. It was still chilly, even though everyone kept saying spring would soon be here, and she pulled up her coat collar, shivering. She was feeling so much better since Nan had taken her in. The bedroom was small but comfortable, warm and smelled of lovely polish. Nan was being so kind to her and Alice tried to repay her by doing little jobs – but in her heart she knew that it was only a temporary refuge. Once the baby was born she would have to try to find a new place to live. She’d talked to Nan about it once or twice and Angela had assured her that she would arrange for her to go to a private clinic to have the baby. Alice was going to get herself a wedding ring and in future she would be known as Mrs Cobb.

  Although she still had a few savings, Alice was reluctant to use them just yet. Once she was forced to leave work she would soon find that her small store of money was dwindling.

  Jack had sworn he loved her, but he’d driven off and left her and everyone thought he was dead – except she couldn’t quite believe it in her heart.

  Somehow Alice was going to have to make a new life for herself. She wished she was clever so that she could be a nurse like Michelle. Sally Rush had told her that she was going to train to become a nurse one day. Sally would have a chance to make something of herself. If only Alice could do the same, but she’d left it too late, because no one would give her the chance now. All she could hope for was that she might be able to continue to work at St Saviour’s after the child was born, but that depended on Sister Beatrice.

  FORTY-NINE

  ‘I’m glad you’ve come to your senses,’ Sally’s mother said as they sat in the kitchen eating Spam fritters, mashed potatoes and tinned peas for their supper that Sunday evening. ‘It would never have worked, love. I know he swept you off your feet – and he’s a really nice man – but he’s from a different world.’