*
They left together, and Fleur continued on her way. Would that be a hint to Russell? Would competition spur him on or would he totally ignore it? Somehow she thought the last was the most probable reaction. He was so supremely self-confident he would consider Fleur's preferences or Steve's interest of the least importance compared with his own wishes.
It was later that week, and she had not seen Russell again, when Fleur realised she was once more the subject of Chad's gossip. She received odd looks, and when she took some notes to Mr Havelock's office Rowena was abrupt to the point of rudeness, turning away almost before Fleur had finished giving her brief message. A couple of conversations were abruptly cut off when she appeared, and Gilly Massingham, the nurse she had once chastised for carelessness, and who had been antagonistic towards her ever since, eyed her with a look of unconcealed glee when they met in the corridor, and some of the younger nurses took to giggling and turning their backs when they saw her.
'What is it now?' she asked Anne that evening.
Anne was worried. 'I don't know,' she said slowly. 'There is something, but everyone knows we share a flat, and they are all being extra careful not to talk in front of me. I think David's heard something, but he's being irritating, saying it's all nonsense and will blow over.'
'If it's about me, haven't I the right to know?' Fleur demanded. 'I need to know, if only to be able to deny whatever lies they're putting round about me now.'
'I'll have another go at David, though he's saying it's best to ignore gossip, because it stops sooner if you do.'
'I'll bet he wouldn't take that attitude if it was lies about him!'
'Won't Jenny tell you?'
'She's on nights, I haven't seen her this week apart from handing over and we're too rushed then to talk. I'll tackle Sue in the morning, she's sensible and will see my point of view.'
She went to the orthopaedic ward during her lunch break to find Sue, who was busy with a staff shortage and extra patients.
'I'd rather not talk here,' she answered when Fleur hesitantly explained what she wanted. 'Can we go somewhere afterwards? Not the Crown, somewhere away from the area.'
'OK. I finish at four today.'
'So will I, with luck. See you in the locker room.'
*
Fleur had to contain her growing curiosity and anger for the rest of the day, but eventually she was free. She changed, and sat down to wait for Sue. By half past four she was wondering if Sue had regretted her promise, but just as she had decided to wait no longer Sue appeared.
'Fleur! Thank goodness, I thought you might have gone. I'm sorry, but we had to send one of the girls off sick, and I had to wait for an agency nurse, we're so short of staff.'
She was struggling out of her uniform as she spoke, and pulling on jeans and a thick sweater. Pushing her hands through her hair to loosen it, she smiled comfortingly at Fleur and picked up an ancient duffle coat.
'Come on, I know a small discreet coffee bar.'
It was busy serving cheap meals, but they found a corner table free and Sue ordered coffee.
'Right?' Fleur had contained her impatience but now she wanted no more delay. 'What is it everyone is saying about me?'
'It's more details to the earlier story,' Sue said bluntly. 'People realised you couldn't have been sacked from St John's, but now they've heard that a man, a patient, claimed he wanted to marry you when he was delirious.'
Fleur went cold with shock. Almost the same words as when she had told Russell about her nickname. No one else at Chad's knew except Anne, for Steve had not been at St John's then and he would know nothing of how she had acquired her hated nickname.
'So?' She said hoarsely. 'That's not a crime on my part!'
'Then it's true?'
'Yes. But that's not enough to cause all these whispers.'
'It isn't,' Sue went on doggedly. 'They say he was old, very sick, and very rich, you tried to hold him to his offer of marriage, but his son paid you off.'
Fleur was staring at her, horror-struck. 'That's totally untrue,' she gasped. 'We laughed about it when he was better. He left hospital a couple of weeks later. He didn't have a son.'
'There's more,' Sue warned.
'Go on,' Fleur said grimly.
'You flirted with the male patients, and when you were reprimanded after one of their wives complained, a senior consultant prevented it. You can imagine what they say about his motives for intervening, suggesting he was something more to you than anyone had previously suspected.'
'It's all utterly untrue!' Fleur protested, biting her lower lip to stop it from trembling. 'No patient's wife complained. A Sister did, but she was jealous, and they couldn't prove I'd been more than normally friendly with any of the patients because I hadn't! She was always looking for faults.'
'Someone's trying to damage your reputation here,' Sue commented slowly. 'This Sister, jealous of a man?'
Fleur nodded. 'A doctor. She was angry when he took me out,' she said briefly, seeing no point in mentioning Steve Markham. That might involve him in the rumours.
'Then could it be someone here who's jealous?' Sue asked. 'It's been noticed Russell Delaney is smitten,' she added. 'It could be Rowena Kingsley, no one seems to know whether that engagement is on or off, but she's in a foul mood these days. But there are dozens of little idiots imagining themselves in love with him, who believe that if you were out of the running he would turn to them!' she concluded scornfully.
'None of the girls here know anything, and though the details are untrue, the stupid man did propose, and Sister Beasley did report me. It has to be someone who knows that.'
*
And Russell did, she thought bleakly. She had told him. No one else knew. The first rumours had started when he had been angry with her, so was it a coincidence this second false but much more damaging rumour had surfaced a few days after she had stood him up?
'Thanks for telling me, Sue,' she said quietly. 'I'm grateful, but I'd better go home now.'
'You needed to know,' Sue said as they paid the bill. 'It's being done deliberately,' she added as they went towards the bus stop, 'and must be someone with a grudge against you. If I hear anything else, or discover where these rumours start I'll tell you, don't worry.'
'Thanks,' Fleur murmured, 'I'd appreciate that.'
'I'm sorry, I wish I could do more to help,' Sue exclaimed, 'I'll say it's untrue, but you know how people would rather believe the rumours.'
Anne was indignant when Fleur explained how Russell was the only person who could have started these fresh rumours.
'Steve might have known,' she suggested tentatively, 'and of course I know the real story.'
'You'd never be so malicious as even to talk about it,' Fleur said vehemently, 'nor Steve, even if he knows much. He didn't come to St John's until afterwards.'
Anne was forced to agree, but then in an attempt to distract Fleur's thoughts from the whole nasty mess tried to interest her in Christmas shopping. 'It's almost too late to find good presents, and I haven't a clue what to give David,' she complained, but Fleur was absorbed in one matter only.
*
She was tempted to confront Russell but for a whole week, whenever there was a hint of an opportunity she shrank from it.
It was too embarrassing even to think of discussing it, and in any case he seemed to have given up his pursuit of her. Although he was in the ward every day he spoke only about patients.
She told herself she despised him for starting the rumours. She could think of no other way they could have appeared at Chad's, but this did not prevent Fleur's heart from contracting whenever she saw him. She grew pale and listless, dark shadows under her eyes, and a haunted look in them.
A week before Christmas there was a sudden snowstorm in the afternoon. The ground was soon covered, and when the sun appeared briefly the scene was strangely unreal as the uniform grey murkiness changed to fresh sparkling enchantment.
Fleur was on late duty, not r
elishing the prospect of her journey home. The temperature had dropped, and a film of ice was developing on top of the snow.
Not everyone disliked the weather. Fleur went to the children's ward late in the afternoon with a message, and those patients well enough to be up were by a window overlooking nearby rooftops. They were noisily and cheerfully making plans for slides and skating as soon as they were back home.
'We're grown up when snow stops being fun,' the senior staff nurse said to Fleur as they stood watching the excited children. 'By the way, if you're on duty on Christmas Day, try to slip in. They love visitors, poor mites, when they can't go home.'
'Will you have many here?'
'Most of these can go home, if only for a couple of days. Just the very sick, or those needing special care, have to stay. Talking of visitors, have you a moment to speak to young Sally? Her parents are divorced, and though her father comes whenever he's in London her mother can't afford to come often, she lives in Cornwall. Sally's got leukaemia, very advanced.'
'Poor little kid,' Fleur murmured, and went across to speak to a little girl lying in a bed near the door.
'I wonder if the snow will wait for me?' she asked Fleur, her eyes shining, and Fleur had great difficulty in hiding the sudden tears which threatened to choke her. She knew the child would almost certainly never walk again, and was likely to be dead within the year.
'It will come again some day even if this lot goes quickly,' she said gently. 'It's early this year, and it's been so cold we may have lots. Try to enjoy the look of it while it's here.'
She talked for a few moments about Christmas, and how the nurses made it a special day for everyone, then said she had to go back and look after the grown up patients. She dropped a light kiss on the child's forehead and turned to leave, blinking hard to control a sudden rush of tears.
*
Russell was standing close behind her. Her heart gave an uncontrollable leap, and her eyes widened in sudden apprehension.
'Are you going back straight away?' he asked, looking keenly at her, and when she nodded, he turned to walk beside her.
'Why do you look so devastated whenever you see me?' he asked in a low voice as they walked along the corridor.
Fleur glanced at him. If he really did not know then he was not the sensitive, understanding man she had thought.
'Do I?' she asked, attempting to appear nonchalant.
'Yes,' he replied uncompromisingly. 'You look dreadful,' he went on in an expressionless voice. 'What's the matter?'
'I think I'm sickening for flu,' Fleur said shortly.
'I think you're evading the question, my love. Look,' he went on before she could utter the protest which hovered on the tip of her tongue at the unexpected endearment, 'it's a filthy night, I'll run you home and we can sort out a few things. I think it's time we had a straight talk. I'll see you later.'
Then he was gone, leaving Fleur's thoughts in a whirl. She was unprepared, totally incapable of deciding what to do.
When she emerged from the front entrance there was sleet falling, bitingly cold and stinging against her face. It was dark, apart from the hospital and street lighting, the wind howled round every corner, and underfoot was wet, muddy slush. When Russell appeared, taking her hand in his and guiding her towards his car, she felt only gratitude she would have a warm, dry, comfortable and rapid journey home.
He did not speak as he negotiated the traffic, nor suggest taking her anywhere. He drew into a rare parking space right in front of the flats, and still in silence came round and opened her door, took her hand and accompanied her to the building.
Fleur found her key, and without it being a conscious decision led him upstairs to the flat. It was in darkness and she recalled that Anne had gone to a party with David, and would be very late back. In her dazed state she did not even think of what that could mean for her, alone with Russell, but went straight into the sitting room and switched on the electric fire.
'Have you enough food, or shall I go out for a Chinese takeaway?' he asked, breaking the silence as he dropped his overcoat in the hall and followed her into the sitting room.
Fleur forced herself to concentrate. 'There's always omelette, or if you like we have some chops, and salad.'
'It all sounds delicious. Shall I cook for you?'
'I didn't know you cooked.'
'How should you? But I live alone, and I'm quite capable of providing for myself. You look exhausted. Is there any wine?'
'In the kitchen. I'll get you some. I'm OK, thanks, quite able to cook a couple of chops.'
He followed her into the kitchen, and when she pulled the wine from the fridge took it from her and poured two generous measures.
'Have this first,' he ordered, and Fleur began to feel some warmth stealing back into her limbs.
He perched on the kitchen table and chatted while she sprinkled herbs over the chops, grilled them and mixed a salad. He chose neutral subjects, with no amorous remarks. By the time they were sitting at the kitchen table Fleur was feeling more her normal self.
They took coffee into the sitting room, and Russell made Fleur sit opposite him, either side of the fire.
*
'Now, tell me what it is,' he said gently. 'Is it these silly rumours upsetting you, or is there something more?'
Fleur stared at him and all her suspicions came flooding back, wiping out the companionship of the simple dinner.
'They're untrue,' she said in a low voice.
'There's a basis of truth, magnified, vilely twisted. Can't you ignore them? It's the only practical way.'
'But how do they start?' she asked angrily. 'Only a few people know the truth behind them.'
'And I do,' he said with sudden comprehension. 'No wonder you've been distant. But aren't there other possibilities?'
'Yes, of course,' she admitted slowly.
'And they are what?' he asked quietly.
'Anne knows,' Fleur said slowly, 'and Steve knows some of it, yet I can't believe either of them would try to hurt me. But only you knew everything that happened between us at St John's. And why should the rumours start every time I've made you angry?'
'What do you mean?' he asked frowning.
'They began when I refused to go out to dinner with you.'
'But I didn't expect you to accept my invitations straight away,' he said reminiscently. 'What else?'
'The second lot started after the party, when I wasn't here that night you wanted to take me out,' Fleur explained, beginning to think how silly it all sounded.
Russell did not laugh at her. 'I see. After the party I knew you might be going out with someone else, but I called here in the hope you'd be free. Surely you couldn't think I was angry about such a silly thing or would try to ruin your reputation?'
'You nearly succeeded at St John's, before you even knew me!' she pointed out tartly.
'And I'll never be forgiven,' he said with a wry grin. 'But I'm not sorry I kissed you. It was crazy, I agree, but you were irresistible. Like you are now,' he added.
He moved suddenly to kneel beside Fleur's chair, and before she could protest had taken her coffee mug away, set it down on a nearby table, and pulled her into his arms.
'My lovely, delightful Fleur,' he whispered into her hair. 'I hate to see you unhappy, my darling. It hurts, as it hurts to think you could even suspect me of such despicable behaviour. But I suppose you don't know me well enough, and the first impressions, from your point of view, were not exactly propitious! We'll have to make sure we get to know one another properly, as soon as possible.'
*
Chapter 8
As Russell's lips captured hers Fleur tried to twist away, but he had moved too quickly for her, and she was a prisoner.
Knowing she was alone in the flat with him, and Anne would not be home for hours, her heart thudded in panic and she struggled to push him away. Her hands beat against his chest but he leant closer, pressing her back. The feel of his arms, strong and protective about her
slender body, and the touch of his lips, warm and soft and insistent on hers, made her senses swim.
She gradually forgot everything except how utterly right it felt to be here, enfolded in Russell's arms, with his mouth teasing hers into a response.
His hair was crisp and vital, she found, as her hands slid round his neck and her fingers entwined themselves in his curls. His eyes were a deeper blue than she had thought, and she read without difficulty the message of desire in them.
When he released her for a moment and rose to his feet she felt deserted, but he stooped and lifted her from the chair, carried her across the room to the settee, and sat down with her curled up in his lap, her head cradled against his shoulder.
'My poor darling,' he murmured. 'If I'd known what misery those stupid rumours had caused you, I'd have forced you into this explanation earlier. Even if it had meant kidnapping you! That would really have given them something to gossip about!'
'I know they're not true,' she said slowly, her voice trembling, 'but who hates me enough to spread such lies?'
'Is it useless to tell you to ignore them?' he asked. 'I do, and there have been plenty of false rumours about me. It makes life much more bearable.'
Fleur blinked, and then pushed herself away from him and into a sitting position.
'Then – it's not true?' she asked, an incredulous, joyful hope beginning to grip her.
What isn't true?' he asked, puzzled, pulling her down into his arms and slowly, with infinite care, bending to kiss the tip of her nose, her eyes, and finally again her mouth.
Fleur struggled to hold on to reality. It was amazingly difficult not to abandon herself to the bliss of his presence, the wonder of being in his arms, the delights of his embraces.
'The latest rumour about you,' she said, and then, when he looked genuinely puzzled, she overcame her sudden reluctance and spoke Rowena's name. 'That you and Rowena Kingsley are engaged.'
'That was ages ago!' he exclaimed. 'Is that still around?'
Fleur nodded. 'No one knows, she isn't wearing her ring,' she explained shyly.
He frowned, and Fleur shivered at the grim look on his face.
Hospital Heartbreaker Page 7