by Molly Green
She looked across at him, irritation bubbling to the surface. ‘Out of Africa.’
‘Oh, Isak Dinesen’s memoir. How do you find it?’
He would know Karen Blixen’s Danish name. Try as she might, she could never recall it.
‘I like to read about a determined woman who is doing what she loves most against all odds,’ she returned coolly.
‘Is that what you are? A determined woman?’ He raised his eyes to the ceiling, then caught her eye and smiled in a self-satisfied way. ‘Are you working at St Thomas’ against all odds?’
How dare he?
‘I don’t think there’s any comparison between a nurse in a hospital and Karen Blixen running her farm single-handedly.’ She deliberately looked down at her book again.
Why doesn’t he go away and leave me alone?
‘Impossible to concentrate, I should say, in this madhouse.’ He gazed towards the heaving tables.
The annoying thing was that this time he was right. She snapped her book closed.
‘By the way, I’m Edwin Blake.’
If he thought she was going to curl up in deference to his godly presence, he was wrong. She hid a smile. She’d have a little game with him.
‘How do you do, Dr Blake.’
Quick as a flash he answered, ‘It’s Mr Blake, actually.’
Maxine’s hand flew to her mouth in mock dismay. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’
If Anna had been with her at that moment and caught her eye they would not have dared look at each other for fear of breaking into giggles for pulling the great man down a few pegs. She looked innocently at him.
There was a moment’s pause. Her heart beat a little too rapidly. Have I gone too far?
‘I suppose I deserved that.’ A smile hovered, softening the hard line of his lips.
She picked up her knife and fork again and made a pretence of finishing her meal, but each swallow stuck in her throat. This was awful. She wasn’t enjoying the stew at all with him staring at her, while he hadn’t even touched his food.
‘You may begin, Mr Blake,’ she emphasised, tackling a piece of brownish potato. She looked up and smiled. ‘Sorry, but you were staring.’
Her remark seemed to draw him back an inch or two. Then what looked like a flicker of respect passed across his face. ‘Was I really? I didn’t mean to.’
He began to eat, grimacing every so often and inspecting the contents of his fork before continuing. He broke the awkward silence.
‘How long have you been at St Thomas’?’
Oh, no. He wanted to keep up a conversation. Surely her message was clear that she wasn’t at all interested. He was just doing it to annoy her.
‘A year. When it was a whole building.’ She placed her knife and fork neatly together and made a great play of looking at her watch, ‘Oh, it’s later than I thought.’ She jumped to her feet and tucked her book under her arm.
He immediately sprang up. ‘But you haven’t finished your—’
‘I wouldn’t want to be accused of wasting time again.’ She threw him a cold glance. ‘Good day, Mr Blake.’ With that she turned and made her way through the narrow spaces between the other tables, inwardly seething.
Pompous prig. She thought of more words for Mr Edwin Blake as she tidied her hair in the small mottled mirror over the washbasin in the cloakroom before she felt ready to face her patients again.
‘A word with you, please, Nurse Taylor.’
Sister Crook put her head round the tiny kitchen as Maxine was preparing the drinks on her ward. She immediately put down the cloth and followed Sister into her room.
‘Sit down, please.’ Sister Crook took her place on the opposite side of the desk. ‘I’m most surprised,’ the older woman began, ‘to find that although you have not actually been rude to one of your superiors, you have nevertheless not acted in the required deferential manner to an eminent surgeon. So what do you have to say for yourself?’
A flush of anger rushed to Maxine’s cheeks. ‘I imagine you’re referring to Mr Blake,’ she said, barely trusting herself to speak.
Sister nodded.
By sheer willpower, Maxine stopped herself from saying anything that would get her into more trouble.
‘What I’m saying, Nurse, is that you need to mind your P’s and Q’s when he’s around. Mr Blake is an important man and we’re grateful to have him here. And you don’t want him putting any black marks against your Nightingale Badge, do you?’
‘No, of course not.’ Oh, how she detested such arrogance. Someone who put himself so far above the minions, he thought nothing of having the power to ruin her career if he so wished. Her hands clenched into fists.
‘So will you in future give him the respect he deserves?’
Maxine only paused for a second. Sister’s eyes were unusually stern. ‘Yes, Sister, I’ll do my best.’
‘That will be all.’ She let her gaze rest on Maxine a few moments more. ‘You’re an excellent worker, Nurse Taylor, but you have much to learn about men. Never forget – they can make us or break us.’
Chapter Eight
Maxine did her best to avoid Mr Blake whenever she could. Even glimpsing him in the distance along one of the corridors made her seethe that he’d reported her, but he seemed bent on seeking her out.
‘Nurse Taylor, would you come over here and show the juniors the correct way to take a patient’s temperature,’ and ‘Nurse Taylor, please show Nurse Johnson how to give a proper bed bath,’ and ‘Nurse Taylor, would you demonstrate hospital corners on this bed.’
Maxine would grit her teeth and carry out his instructions, which normally would have come from Sister, until it became obvious to her – and probably most of the staff, she wouldn’t be surprised – that he was doing this on purpose, causing her a good deal of embarrassment. She knew she would have to speak to him about it.
Bennett had only said that morning, after Maxine had made an irritable comment about him, ‘Taylor, you realise our dear Mr Blake fancies you.’
In spite of Maxine’s denial, she couldn’t help the warmth that seeped under her collar.
‘Whatever nonsense are you talking about?’ she demanded.
‘He singles you out – nearly all the time. It’s clear as daylight to the rest of us.’
‘But I’ve done nothing to encourage him to single me out. I don’t even like the man. I do respect him, having seen the results of his operations, but that’s all.’
‘Careful,’ Bennett hissed. ‘He’s coming in and making a beeline for you.’ She winked. ‘I’m off.’
‘Ah, Nurse Taylor.’ Edwin Blake strode up to her. ‘I’d like you to help me with old Mr Hodgkins in the far bed – if it’s not too much trouble.’
‘No trouble at all, Sir.’
She’d tackle Mr Blake later – when she’d got some food inside her.
Maxine drew in a deep breath before she raised her hand to knock on the door of Mr Blake’s private office.
‘Come in.’ Edwin Blake looked up from his paperwork, an expression of surprise flitting across his face.
‘Mr Blake, may I have a private word with you?’
‘Of course. Please be seated.’ He got up and walked to the door, clicking it shut.
‘May I be frank?’
‘By all means.’ He leaned forward, steepling his hands. ‘You sound as though you have something troubling you.’
‘I do.’ She kept her gaze steadily upon him. ‘It’s been remarked upon more than once that you are deliberately singling me out, and some of the staff, and even the patients, are beginning to gossip.’
‘Really?’ A dark auburn eyebrow shot up. ‘What about?’
‘That you’re seeking me out … drawing attention to me in front of the others.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘If I’m honest, I’ve noticed you doing it myself, but I put it down to the fact that we got off to a bad start and you’re asserting your authority … reminding me of my place.’
He caught her gaze and held i
t. Then he put his head back and roared with laughter. ‘You’re even more innocent than I thought.’
He came round to her side of the desk and sat on the edge of it so he was facing her. He caught one of her hands, which she immediately snatched away.
‘Can’t you see? It’s because I like you. I’d like to see more of you, and not just here in the hospital. I’d like to get to know you better.’ He took her hand again and in her confusion she didn’t pull away. ‘You’re lovely, Nurse Taylor – Maxine. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
She gave a start of surprise. She really hadn’t been prepared for this kind of admission. ‘Why are you interested in me?’ She tapped the top of her apron with her fingertips. ‘I haven’t even got my full qualifications yet. I’m nowhere near your level and never will be. I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t want anyone “near my level”, as you so quaintly put it,’ he said, smiling. ‘I don’t want you to alter at all. Why don’t you give me a chance? Let me prove that I’m not the ogre you first thought I was.’
‘What if I find my first thought was right all along?’ She removed her hand and looked him directly in the eye. ‘For instance, why did you find the need to report me? I thought that was totally unfounded.’
He frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You spoke to Sister Crook about me. That I’d been disrespectful to you. I suppose I have to be grateful you didn’t go straight to Matron.’
‘I haven’t spoken to anyone about you. Why should I?’
‘But Sister called me into her office and warned me that you’d—’ She broke off. Sister hadn’t actually said it was Mr Blake who’d reported her. It could have been anyone who’d overheard her. One of those nurses in the canteen, maybe. Heat flew to her cheeks. How stupid she’d been to assume …
‘You’re blushing, Nurse,’ Edwin Blake said, laughing. ‘I believe you’ve just realised I’m not quite so bad as you’d thought. But if you’re still in two minds, I’ll have to prove I’m not an ogre, won’t I?’ He looked at her. ‘So, Maxine Taylor, would you consider having dinner with me?’
She’d jumped to conclusions. It hadn’t been him who’d reported her. He gazed steadily at her, waiting for her answer.
Suddenly she wanted to go out somewhere nice. Eat a plate of delicious food, if that was possible these days. Forget about blood and vomit, groans and tears … just for a few hours. Forget this horrible war that had taken Johnny and Anna from her. For one glorious evening.
She permitted herself a half-smile. ‘Thank you – I’d like that.’
He smiled. ‘What about tomorrow evening? Can you get away?’
‘Yes. I’m off duty at six o’clock.’
‘We’ll go out to eat then.’ He wrinkled his brow. ‘Where would you like to go?’
She’d never been given a choice. Johnny had always decided for her.
‘I’d prefer you to choose,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you know London better than me.’
‘Then I’ll surprise you. But dress up.’ He paused. ‘I’ll meet you by the South Bank lion at the foot of Westminster Bridge at six forty-five. That give you enough time?’
She nodded.
‘By the way, don’t mention this to anyone at the hospital. They frown on any kind of friendship between the doctors and nurses.’
‘Does that go for surgeons too?’ Maxine kept her face straight.
He smiled. ‘Touché.’ He looked at her with something like a spark of admiration. ‘However, no one’s exempt.’
It was nearly half past six by the time she’d shed her uniform. Her temple had begun to throb, gently at first, and then more insistently when she started to panic. She didn’t have the right clothes. She shouldn’t be going out with him in the first place. But it couldn’t stop the frisson of anticipation that she was going on a date with a man of the most impressive reputation. And looks. She grinned to herself as she removed a black straight skirt from its hanger.
Her Liberty-print blouse she’d made two years ago would have to do. It had a pretty bow at the neck and the small coloured flowers of pinks and reds and greens flattered her fair complexion and naturally gold-streaked hair. She added her pearl earrings and necklace, and slipped into her only decent pair of shoes, a pair of black patent courts she’d bought in Liverpool when she’d first got married. Immediately her thoughts flew to Johnny. By going out to dinner with Edwin, was she being unfaithful to his memory? Unconsciously, she twisted her wedding ring. It was only dinner.
She glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes to seven. She’d have to hurry. She threw on her only jacket, hoping it wouldn’t rain, adjusted her neat felt hat and grabbed her bag and gloves.
He was waiting for her. She’d never seen him outside the hospital before. He wore a light grey pinstriped suit and bowler hat, with black polished shoes, and swung an umbrella from his arm, oozing self-confidence. She was sure he knew he looked good.
As soon as he saw her he said, ‘Ah, there you are,’ and held out his arm for her to take. Awkwardly, she put her hand though the crook of his elbow, feeling strange. It didn’t belong there. But not entirely comfortable in her high heels, she was grateful for his support.
‘How was your day?’ he said, glancing down at her, as they quickened their step over Westminster Bridge.
‘Not very nice,’ she admitted. ‘Mr Kingston died.’
‘Ah, yes, Michael Kingston.’ Edwin Blake nodded. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t hold out much hope for him.’
‘It was a shock for us,’ she said. ‘He seemed to be doing so well.’
‘He hadn’t heard from his wife for some time,’ Edwin Blake remarked. ‘I think he felt depressed about it, wondering what she was up to.’
‘Poor man.’ Maxine felt the all too familiar stinging behind her eyes.
She glanced up at the man striding alongside. He didn’t usually make any personal comments about the patients, but obviously took it all in. He’d remembered Mr Kingston was a Michael, for a start. Maybe he was human after all. Maybe there was a beating heart underneath his strict exterior.
‘Taxi!’ He suddenly stepped into the road and held up his umbrella. A black cab pulled up and he opened the door for her. ‘It’s a pleasant walk on a summer’s eve,’ he said, settling down beside her in the soft leather seat. ‘But not this evening.’ He raised his eyes skywards. ‘Looks like it could rain. Besides,’ he smiled down at her, ‘I want to pamper you.’
Inside the taxi, his fingers closed over hers. She didn’t want this. It was too soon. But she didn’t want to hurt him by snatching her hand away for the second time. After a few moments she gently extracted it as an excuse to look in her handbag for a handkerchief, and dabbed her nose.
‘You haven’t got a cold coming, have you?’ He sounded concerned.
‘No, no. Probably the dust in the basement.’
‘Because I can’t afford to catch one,’ he said surprisingly. ‘Too many patients relying on me.’
Was he just a little too full of his own importance? She quickly brushed the thought away. He was being sensible, that was all.
They chatted amiably enough until the taxi stopped outside the Ritz. Maxine gasped and Edwin Blake gave her an amused smile.
‘Will it be to your liking, Miss Taylor?’
‘I’m not dressed for anything so grand.’
‘You look perfect.’
A man dressed in a bright red uniform stepped briskly forward and bent to open the car door. ‘Madam,’ he said, holding out his hand to help her out, ‘welcome to the Ritz.’
She gave the man an uncertain smile, lost for words. But it didn’t stop the tingle of excitement she felt as Edwin Blake took her arm and guided her through the door of what many people regarded as the best hotel in London.
Maxine gasped as she stepped into the enormous dining room. It was buzzing with people’s chatter and laughter, but nothing could detract from the surroundings. Her astonished gaze soared upwards to the eth
ereal painted ceiling, the tall windows richly draped in shining gold-patterned fabric, the bronze chandeliers …
‘Your table, Sir.’ The waiter pulled out an upholstered chair from the table covered in a crisp white cloth and set with gleaming silver cutlery and crystal glasses. ‘Madam.’
As soon as Maxine glanced at the menu, the heat rushed to her cheeks. There were dishes she’d never heard of, let alone could pronounce. Edwin Blake was going to think her such a fool.
As though he felt her confusion, he said, ‘Will you allow me to order for you, Maxine?’
‘I’d be grateful. They look like very fancy dishes with their foreign names.’
He chuckled. ‘They have to keep up the pretence that they’re still serving the finest food even though there’s a war on and rationing. Mind you, they do manage to get good supplies most of the time.’ He bent his head to scan the menu. ‘I recommend the duck à l’orange.’
‘It sounds wonderful,’ Maxine said, not having a clue. She’d never eaten duck before … and with orange … it didn’t sound that appetising. But she was thankful the problem had been taken out of her hands.
‘So now you can relax.’ Edwin Blake smiled at her. ‘The Ritz will do all the work. All you have to do is sit there and look beautiful.’
It was meant to be a compliment, she was sure, but her skin prickled. She wasn’t some empty-headed young girl, even though she’d pointed out she wasn’t on his level. She’d meant he held a high position in the hospital, not that he was her superior in every shape and form. Whatever had made her make such a comment?
‘Here’s to a normal civilised evening in the madness of this bloody war,’ Edwin said, raising his glass. ‘And I say “bloody” as that’s exactly what it is – in more ways than one.’
She raised her glass towards his and smiled. ‘I second that.’
The wine tasted good even though she wasn’t very used to it. She allowed the liquid to roll over her tongue, relishing such a delightful flavour of peach, as it slid luxuriously down her throat.
‘Do you read poetry?’
His sudden question made her start. ‘I did … at school.’