Love is Eternal

by Yvonne Whittal

  The room was all at once filled with a deathly silence, and, by the look on Matron’s face, Joanne knew, even before she spoke, that she had found the missing ring.

  She held it up for inspection, allowing the light from the window to sparkle on the stone. ‘Is this your ring, Mrs. Neal?’

  ‘Yes! Oh, yes!’ Greta exclaimed excitedly, but Joanne felt as though she had been winded by an unexpected blow as she met Daniel’s cold glance and saw the ominous tightening of the muscles in his jaw.

  ‘How could you, Sister Webster! I never thought of you as a common little thief,’ Greta accused, but Joanne was past caring as she saw those slender hands clutch at Daniel’s arm to claim his attention. ‘Daniel, I insist that you have her

  dismissed instantly!’

  There was a brief pause before Daniel said with forced calmness, ‘I think, Greta, you should put on something decent, and accompany us to Matron’s office where we can thrash this out quietly and calmly ... and in private. ’

  ‘But I’m ill,’ Greta protested, sagging against the pillows. ‘I can’t—’

  ‘Get up, and do as you’re told,’ Daniel instructed with harsh abruptness.

  ‘Oh, very well,’ she agreed grudgingly, her lips petulant as Matron helped her into her silk robe and slippers.

  Joanne felt completely numbed, her legs moving automatically as the four of them made their way silently to Matron’s office and closed the door behind them. Her premonition had been correct about Greta Neal, but she had never dreamed that she would go to such lengths to reach her goal. For a nursing Sister to be accused of theft was one of the worst things that could happen to anyone, and it was happening to her. She had never so much as stolen a hair from someone’s head, but she knew with painful certainty that Greta Neal was completely aware of how that ring came to be in her pocket, and it did not need a psycho-analyst to tell her that this woman would not admit the truth easily.

  ‘Greta, I want you to think very carefully about this,’ said Daniel once Matron had seated herself behind her desk, and Greta had subsided gracefully into a chair. ‘Was there any way your ring could have fallen into Sister Webster’s pocket without either of you realising this?’

  ‘There was no way at all,’ Greta confirmed, glancing from the man towering over her to where Joanne stood stiffly beside Matron’s desk. Then her scornful glance swung back to him. ‘For heaven’s sake, darling, why should you try to cover up for her? She’s a thief, and that’s all there is to it.’

  Daniel’s expression hardened as he squared his shoulders and thrust his clenched fists into the pockets of his white coat. ‘Greta, I must make this very clear. Joanne Webster is not a thief, and I can vouch for that. ’

  It was like watching some macabre scene in a third-rate play, Joanne thought wildly, only this time she was the central character who was having her reputation ripped to shreds.

  ‘Dr. Grant,’ Matron interrupted politely, ‘may I ask Sister Webster a few questions?’

  ‘Certainly, Matron,’ he inclined his head slightly, glancing at Joanne as Matron began to speak.

  ‘Sister Webster, have you any idea how that ring came to be in your pocket?’

  ‘No idea at all, Matron.’

  ‘Did you notice it on the bedside cupboard when you entered Mrs. Neal’s room?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ she replied tonelessly.

  ‘She’s lying!’ Greta spat out the words. ‘She saw it, and she must have realised it was an extremely valuable item. That’s why she took it.’

  ‘Control yourself, Greta!’ Daniel warned sharply, returning his glance to Joanne, who felt herself begin to shake. ‘Was there no one else in the ward with you? Someone who may have considered playing a prank on you?’

  ‘Only Sister Dawson,’ Joanne replied, licking her dry lips. ‘But she came no further than the door.’

  ‘Sister Webster, is there anything you could say in your defence?’ Matron intervened, her stern features offering Joanne no comfort.

  She shook her head helplessly. ‘I can only swear that I never touched Mrs. Neal’s ring, and I had no idea it was in my pocket.’

  Greta gestured impatiently. ‘Matron, it’s as obvious as the nose on my face that she stole my ring, and I insist that you dismiss her at once. ’

  ‘Matron will do nothing of the kind,’ Daniel intervened abruptly. ‘There must be a reasonable explanation for your ring turning up in Sister Webster’s pocket, and I intend to make it my business to go over this whole business step by step until we know exactly what happened. ’

  ‘Dr. Grant, you seem very certain of Sister Webster’s innocence,’ Matron frowned up at him. ‘May I ask why?’

  ‘There are two reasons why, Matron,’ Daniel remarked, a smile touching his lips that sent a quiver of apprehension through Joanne. ‘Firstly, I’ve known Joanne for some years now, and her integrity is something I’ve always admired. Secondly—’

  ‘Daniel ... please!’ Joanne begged hoarsely as she guessed Daniel’s intention, and visualised her future lying shattered before her.

  ‘Secondly,’ he continued grimly, ignoring her urgent plea, ‘Joanne is my wife.’

  The axe fell with shattering results. Matron’s portly figure in the distinctive blue uniform seemed to expand, the strength of the buttons over her bosom severely tested, while her mouth dropped open, accentuating the double chin. But it was the glittering fury in Greta Neal’s eyes that made the blood recede once more from Joanne’s cheeks to leave her deathly pale and shaking in every limb.

  ‘You’re lying to save her skin!’ Greta’s voice sparked across the electrified silence.

  ‘On the contrary, Greta,’ Daniel smiled lazily, ‘I’ve found the truth a wonderful weapon at times.’

  ‘Then you’re a fool!’ she snapped, a dull red colour surging up beneath her pale skin. ‘I could have offered, you so much more.’

  ‘I’ve never been interested in what you had to offer, Greta, and I never shall be,’ he replied without compunction, his cold glance shattering Greta’s confidence momentarily. ‘For once in your life tell the truth. Clear my wife’s name, then

  you’ll at least regain my respect.’

  ‘You win, Daniel,’ she replied after a stifling pause, an affected smile curving her lips as she glanced at the now astonished Matron. ‘Yes, I planted my diamond ring in her pocket while she was straightening my sheets and fixing my pillows. ’

  ‘But why, Mrs. Neal?’

  ‘Why?’ Greta laughed, her scornful glance raking Joanne’s silent figure. ‘I wanted to discredit her in Dr Grant’s eyes. I didn’t know, of course, that they were already married. ’

  ‘No one here at Willowmead knew that Joanne is my wife, Greta,’ Daniel told her quietly. ‘And no one would have known if you hadn’t forced me to make it known in order to protect Joanne.’

  ‘Well, well, well,’ she smiled sarcastically. ‘So I scored a hit after all. But the damage is done, darling, and I can’t say I regret it.’ She rose elegantly, her manner indicating that she had regained her composure swiftly. ‘I presume I have the authority to discharge myself from this infernal place?’

  Daniel nodded. ‘You may do so with my compliments.’

  ‘Darling, you’re so kind,’ she purred, sending a sweeping glance across the room. ‘Good day, everyone.’

  The door closed behind her moments later, leaving behind only a waft of her perfume as a reminder of her presence as Joanne closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed violently at the desire to be physically sick.

  ‘Sister Webster—I mean, Mrs. Grant,’ Matron stumbled self-consciously over her words, a new glimmer of respect in her glance that made no impact on Joanne. ‘You realise, I suppose, that we cannot allow you to remain in our employ, considering that Dr. Grant is your—husband. It’s quite unethical, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, Dr. Grant.’

  ‘Please, Matron,’ Joanne interrupted jerkily. There was a limit to what she could take, and she had reached her l
imit several seconds ago. ‘I understand only too well what this means. You shall have my resignation on your desk in the morning. If—if some arrangement could be made for Sister Forbes to take over in the theatre, I—I would like to go home.’

  Not waiting for a reply, she walked blindly from Matron’s office, her head held high, her back rigid and aching. She could not relax now, she thought as she made her way towards her office to collect her bag before leaving the building. To relax at that moment would be disastrous and embarrassing in front of so many prying eyes, and she had had enough of the enforced limelight.

  In the privacy of her flat, Joanne flung her bag across her bed and followed it almost immediately, lying face down across the pillows as she felt the tension snap within her until her shoulders began to shake as painful sobs tore through her slender frame. She wept bitter agonising tears until her pillow was drenched, and she was aware of nothing but an emptiness that left her listless and weak. Her brain felt numb and devoid of thoughts when she eventually made her way into the kitchen to make herself a strong cup of tea. Adding plenty of sugar, she finally sipped at the hot liquid, the shiver coursing its way through her making her realise how cold she was as her composure gradually returned.

  There was plenty to do, she decided eventually, but first she had to write out her letter of resignation. Afterwards? Well, that was up to the authorities at the clinic, for there was no longer any place for her there.

  Taking her writing case from the shelf in her wardrobe, Joanne sat down in the lounge and calmly composed the letter of resignation she had promised Matron. When she eventually sealed the envelope, her glance fell on the letter written by Serena Grant shortly before her death, and the

  contents, which she knew off by heart, were like the thrust of a sword in an open wound. Then, thrusting aside her thoughts, she rose and went through to the kitchen once more to make herself something to eat. The thought of food made her feel ill, but she had to keep busy in order to stop herself from thinking of the past and the future as it mingled to become a grotesque nightmare that threatened to plague her waking thoughts.

  Somehow she managed to get through the hours until darkness fell. Then, with nothing more to do, an unnatural coldness gripped her, making her teeth chatter until she finally soaked herself in a hot bath and felt the tension uncoil within her, the warmth of the water soothing the aching muscles along her spine.

  She rubbed herself vigorously afterwards, removing the pins from her hair, and wrapping herself in a blue silk robe before she pushed her feet into her soft mules. She emerged from the bathroom moments later, her steps faltering as Daniel’s tall figure emerged from the armchair in the lounge. He had obviously made himself at home, for he had removed his jacket and tie, the top buttons of his white shirt undone to display a large portion of his tanned chest.

  His glance flickered strangely as it slid down the length of her, making her aware of the fact that she had nothing on beneath that robe, and painfully conscious of her shiny, flushed face. He smiled as if something in her appearance satisfied him.

  ‘I knocked, but you obviously didn’t hear me, so I tried the door, and found it unlocked.’

  ‘What do you want?’ she demanded, her voice sounding flat to her own ears as her hands went instinctively towards the belt of her robe to tighten it.

  ‘There are a few things I want to discuss with you. ’

  ‘We have nothing to discuss with each other. ’

  ‘Oh, yes, we have,’ he corrected smoothly. ‘First of all, you’ll be happy to know that Greta has left the clinic.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter any more,’ she replied dully, lowering her glance to the floor, and fixing her attention on the intricate pattern of the carpet.

  ‘It matters to me,’ Daniel insisted harshly, his polished shoes coming into her line of vision. ‘I’ve never found it very comfortable having her hanging about my neck.’

  A little thrill of pleasure made its way through her, but she suppressed it instantly. ‘I suppose I should say “thank you” for the way you stood by me this afternoon. ’

  She heard the rumble of laughter in his throat at her ungraciousness. ‘You don’t have to if you’d rather not.’

  Her head shot up instantly, green sparks of anger flashing from her eyes. ‘There was no need for you to mention the fact

  that we were married. ’

  ‘There was every need,’ he insisted abruptly, his fingers closing about her arm like a vice as he shook her slightly. ‘I’m tired of playing games in an effort to sort out the mess our lives are in.’

  ‘You’re hurting my arm.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He released her instantly, slipping his hand into the pocket of his pants and producing a letter she would have given the world for him not to have seen. ‘Why did you never show me this letter?’

  ‘Where did you find it?’ she wanted to know, her breath quickening with anxiety.

  ‘There on the sofa,’ he indicated her writing case which she had carelessly left open. ‘I couldn’t help recognising my mother’s handwriting,’ he continued, his compelling glance capturing hers. ‘How long have you had this letter?’

  ‘Sister Johnson gave it to me after the funeral. ’

  ‘And you never thought to show it to me?’ he accused, dropping the letter on to the sofa beside her writing case.

  Stifled by his nearness, she walked across to the window and pushed aside the curtain to stare down into the darkened street below where she could only just make out the shape of his car parked at the curb.

  ‘I wanted to ... once,’ she admitted listlessly. ‘But you never gave me much opportunity to explain how it came about.’

  ‘Joanne ... I must know,’ he said directly behind her, and the curtain fell into place as the warmth of his hands on her shoulders seemed to scorch her through the thin silk of her robe. ‘Did Mother suppose you ... cared for me? Or did you actually tell her so?’

  ‘I must go and get dressed,’ she evaded his questioning, but his hands merely tightened on her shoulders as he swung her round to face him.

  ‘I must know,’ he repeated, his glance searching her face.

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Very much. ’

  Joanne swallowed with difficulty, every nerve in her body aware of his nearness, his touch, and the humiliating admission she could no longer evade. Her throat tightened, making her voice sound like a croak as she said: ‘I told her.’

  ‘And you meant it?’ he asked softly, the urgency within him conveyed through the slight tremor in his hands.

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted, humiliating herself completely as she eventually twisted away from him. ‘Well? Why aren’t you laughing? It’s the joke of the century that I should have been fool enough to fall in love with you. ’

  His hands reached out for her, drawing her up against him relentlessly. ‘How can I laugh, my darling Lorelei, when I’ve loved you almost from the first time I saw you?’

  ‘Don’t ... please,’ she begged brokenly, unable to believe him when he had always declared so firmly that he did not believe in love. ‘Haven’t I shamed myself enough?’

  ‘Joanne, look at me,’ he instructed with gentle firmness.

  ‘I can’t,’ she whispered, her cheeks aflame, her heart pounding in her ears.

  ‘I refuse to talk to the top of your head, pretty as it is,’ he laughed, placing his hands on either side of her face and forcing her to meet his eyes; eyes that seemed to be burning with the intensity of his feelings. ‘Darling ice-maiden, from the moment I looked into your cool green eyes I knew I intended to marry you some day. I had no intention of rushing you, but, to satisfy my mother, I took her with me to that Christmas dance at the hospital before our marriage.’ He smiled with gentle reminiscence. ‘I told her that, after my duty dance with the Matron, I would point out my future wife by asking her to dance with me.’

  Joanne studied him with a quick ache in her throat as she recalled how he had approached her tha
t night and had asked her to dance. She recalled, too, catching a glimpse of Serena Grant at Matron’s table, and knew now why his mother had seemed so familiar that first night when Daniel had taken her to his home in Constantia.

  ‘Joanne,’ his lips brushed across her fluttering eyelashes before lingering tenderly on her quivering mouth. ‘Our marriage was at the wrong time, and for all the wrong reasons, but I do love you. ’

  She stared up at him for a moment, afraid to believe him while everything within her clamoured in response to his admission, and it was then that she realised she was looking at a Daniel she had never seen before; a Daniel who did not seem to care that his feelings showed so plainly in his eyes, and in the gentleness hovering about his usually firm, tightlipped mouth.

  ‘Oh, Daniel,’ she whispered achingly, burying her face against him, and slipping her arms about his waist in order to press closer to him.

  Her action seemed to act as a release, for he gathered her against him fiercely while at the same time his lips found hers with a hungry yearning as he kissed her again and again until the emotional storm within him subsided fractionally.

  ‘Darling heart,’ he whispered against her throat, his warm lips seeking a creamy, scented shoulder beneath the wide collar of her robe. ‘Say the words I’ve been waiting so long to hear.’

  ‘I love you, Daniel,’ she whispered fervently, her arms locked about his neck. ‘I loved you when I agreed to marry you, and, had I known that you loved me too, it wouldn’t have been necessary to waste as much time as we have. ’

  ‘Don’t remind me,’ he laughed softly, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he raised his head slightly to look at her, taking in her flushed cheeks, the eyes sparkling with an inner glow, and the soft lips so unconsciously inviting his kisses. ‘Lorelei, you have nothing on beneath this silky thing, I’m sure,’ he murmured, his hands sliding down the length of her.

  ‘Not a thing,’ she admitted, her lips curved into a mischievous smile.