CHAPTER THREE
PRESENTLY Dr. Anston remarked that perhaps it was time they went home and told Honey's -parents their news. And, although the practical finality of that nearly made her panic. Honey supposed that whether an engagement were real or pretended, one had to go through the form of telling one's parents at an early stage in proceedings.. By the time they returned to Meadlands, all the buses had departed with their satisfied loads, the village hall was being stripped of its floral decorations, and a tired but triumphant Mrs. Milward was preparing to relax and spend a quiet evening. In her pleasant, restful living room, Honey and Dr. Anston came to her with their news. At first it was a little difficult to make her understand that her daughter had really become engaged, although, as she told her husband afterward, it had been the sort of day on which almost anything could happen. But when she had finally grasped the glad tidings, she jumped up, tired though she was, and embraced her child, with all the enthusiasm that was left in her after the group meeting. "How perfectly, perfectly wonderful. Honey darling!" And then, turning to the smiling Dr. 42 Anston, she added, "And although I have only just met you, John, I feel that I already know you well" Honey secretly thought her mother was much too ready with her "John"a term that she herself had not managed to apply to him. But worse was to follow, for her mother called the famous surgeon "'My dear boy" and kissed him. Which was, again, more than her daughter had dreamed of doing. "I suppose it's all rather sudden, since Honey never mentioned you until this morning," said Mrs. Milward, looking at her proposed son-in-law pensively. "But you must have known each other at the hospital for some while." "That's true," he agreed, returning her kiss with apparent enjoyment. "But it wasn't until today that I managed to persuade Honey to really take me seriously." "Imagine that!" Mrs. Milward smiled happily at the pair of them. "And to think that if your aunt hadn't let us down, and Honey hadn't bravely offered to go over and interview her, this might never have happened." "It's a solemn thought," said Dr. Anston, while Honey could find no answer to the undoubted truth of her mother's statement. "Honey dear, I'm so happy for you." Her mother hugged and kissed her again, and at the same time managed to whisper, "He's a man in a thousand, darling. I could tell that from his talk." Honey smiled, returned the kiss and tried to look like a happily engaged girl. "You must stay to dinner, of course," Mrs. Milward said as she turned back to him, "and have a talk with Honey's father. Honey dear, I'm sure 43 you want to go and change into something really festive and pretty for the occasion." So Honey, bome along now on what seemed to her an inevitable tide, went upstairs to her room. She took from her wardrobe the cream colored dress with the powdering of gold spots, which was, she was sure, what her mother had had in mind. As she put it on, brushed her shining hair, and touched her lips with red, she kept on telling herself that it was quite impossible to go on with this fantastic situation. But, when she looked at herself in the full-length mirror and saw a fair-haired girl with thoughtful dark eyes and a mischievous curve to her mouth, she began to have the strange feeling that there was something exciting and challenging in the idea of playing this masquerade out with John Anston, of all people. He should hot have it all his own way! For in spite of all this talk about his match-making sister, Honey could not help thinking that he was more than half-prompted by a malicious desire to punish her; both for her strictures on him and for what He regarded as her presumptuous pretence of an intimate friendship between them. Well, she would have some fun too. She was not going to be the poor little victim of Dr. Anston's mocking ingenuity. And, with a swirl of her ivory skirt and a gay, impudent wave to her reflection, Honey ran downstairs to deal with her new fiance. As she came downstairs, he was standing in the hall talking to her father. Both of them had their backs to her, her father pointing out something framed in the open front doorway. Afterward she 44 was not quite sure if it was her new, reckless mood that prompted her, or if she really only wanted to play her part well in front of her father. At any rate, she jumped the last two stairs and ran across the hall, to cast her arms around Dr. Anston from behind and say, "I'm ready, John! How do you like my dress?" Even before he turned to look at her, she knew she had administered a shock. There was a sort of fierce enjoyment in the fact that, for once, she had startled him. Then, as her father said, "Well, Honey, this is great news." Dr. Anston turned in the circle of her arms and lifted her clear off the ground. "You look wonderful, my darling," he said and kissed her deliberately on her lips as he set her down again. Somehow she had not expected quite such cooperation. Something witty and flippant would have been more in character. And for a moment Honey was hard put to answer her father's questions and congratulations coherently. But coherence is not what is expected of a newly engaged daughter, and her father evidently saw nothing wrong. He kissed her, said she was a secretive child to have kept all this to herself, and then they all went in to dinner. For good or ill, Mrs. Milward took over the direction of the conversation. Inevitably, this ranged to future plans. Honey found herself discussing the length of her engagement to Dr. Anston, the design of her wedding dress, and the place where she was likely to live when she set up house with him. 45 If, she told herself, she had realized io what | refinements of anxiety and embarrassment'she was '| committing herself when she took this thing on, she || would never have consented to go through such an | involved farce. ,| But then she looked across the table at Dr. |Anston, his handsome head bent a trifle deferen-| tially toward her mother, and again the feeling || came over her that, in some terrifying but exciting |way, this was an experience she would not have | missed. , "lilt seemed that they must both have played their j parts well, for neither of her parents appeared to |notice anything unusual in their attitude. It was true | that, toward the end of dinner, Mrs. Milward's attention wandered once or twice. But (his was ~ explained when, as they rose from the table, she said with elaborate carelessness, "I think I should telephone Miss Emms about one or two things that happened this afternoon." "She knows about Honey," interjected her 1 husband cryptically. "Knows about Honey!" Mrs. Milward actually flushed with annoyance. "What do you mean? She can't know about Honey. We've only just heard the news ourselves." "Selina Emms has a private receiving set concealed in her hat," declared Mr. Milward solemnly. "Or possesses some sixth sense that tells her about events just a short while before they occur. When I stopped at the post office on my way home, she accosted me, strictly in the social sense of the word, of course, and said she thought Honey had chosen very well and that doctors always made such steady husbands." He grinned ruefully at his wife. "But," cried Mrs. Milward, greatly chagrined, "didn't you ask her what she meant?" "No, of course not. I would still be there now, if I had," replied her husband. And, shaking out the pages of his evening newspaper, he turned to the section headed, "Today on the Stock Exchange," which is so very absorbing or so very boring, according to one's degree of ignorance. After a moment's thought, Mrs. Milward still elected to go and telephone Miss Emms. Dr. Anston had ample_opportunity to say quietly to Honey, "You see? It would have been almost impossible to talk ourselves out of it anyway." "Do you diink," inquired Honey in the same low tones, "that it^will be any easier in six months: time?" Even he had no very convincing answer to this. So he laughed and kissed the tip of her ear instead, which might or might not have been for her father's benefit. It was a very curious sort of evening, but not entirely without its own particular sense of enjoyment. To Honey it was as though she had suddenly discovered how to walk a tightrope and was now committed to the half-terrifying, halfexhilarating experience of doing so. But toward the end she began to feel a certain degree of strain and was not sorry when Dr. Anston said that he had no intention of keeping them all up late after what must have been an exhausting day. "I have to return to London tomorrow. Honey," 47 he said, "and I shall not be back until Thursday, when, of course, I shall be operating at St. Margaret's as usual. Would you care to come with me and choose your ring?" Slightly off her guard now that she was feeling tired. Honey nearly fell into the
trap of remarking that, in the circumstances, almost any ring would do. But recovering herself in t,ime, she said very sweetly that she was sure John would choose something she would like. "Besides, you'll be busy all day at your London hospital on Tuesday and Wednesday," she pointed out. "I think I'll stay quietly at home and enjoy my few days' leave." "Oh, darling!" her mother rushed eagerly into the discussion. "Do go if you want to. Now that this has happened, we don't expert to keep you selfishly to ourselves. And one is only engaged onceor, at least, one hopes so." At the singular inappropriateness of this observation, Honey had difficulty not meeting Dr. Anston's humorous glance. But she contrived to go on looking sweet and firm. And, having repeated that she preferred not to go to London at this moment, she walked with him to the gate, because this appeared to be what her mother, at least, expected. "An admirable performance," he declared "on the part of both of us." , "I'm glad you think so," replied Honey a trifle grimly. "But I wish I knew exactly where all this is leading us." "Don't worry," he told her lightly. "We've taken the first and worst hurdle, and taken it well." 48 Then he kissed her good night. She thought that a little excessive, even though they were in view of the house and possibly of her mother. On her return to the house, she naturally had to receive further congratulatory comments from her parents. Her father seemed as pleased as her mother with what ironically he called her choice. "He's a very good type, my dear, very good," he assured a secretly dissenting Honey. "You and your mother can rejoice in the romantic side of this match, if you like. But what pleases me is that he's a fine man, and in a very good social and financial position." "Yes, of course, these things do matter," murmured Honey, trying to look starry-eyed and failing. "But now I'm just exhausted with all the excitement. I... I think I'll go to bed." "Do, darling!" Her mother kissed her fondly. "I've never known such a day in the whole of my' life. Not ever." "What about the day you became engaged to me?" inquired her husband teasingly. "Oh, well." Mrs. Milward looked pensive and smiled in the lovely way that made her look like Honey's elder sister. "That was pretty thrilling too. But there was no triumphant group meeting beforehand," she recalled suddenly. "No. This is the day of days, isn't it. Honey dear?" "Honey dear" said, with what conviction she could, that it was indeed the day of days. Then she finally escaped to her room, telling herself that at any rate during John's two days' absence she could probably take things more quietly. In this, however, she was mistaken 49 By lunchtime of the following day, there were few people left in Meadlands who did not know that Honey Milward was engaged to that handsome surgeon who had saved the day with his brilliant lecture at the W.I. group meeting. "It's like something in a book," cried sentimental little Miss Morris at the post office, when Honey entered, unsuspectingly, to buy some stamps. "And everyone says he looks like a movie star." "I don't think he would care for the comparison himself," Honey said truthfully. "Oh, I only mean- in looks." Slightly shocked, Miss Morris strove to reassure Honey. "Nothing to do with their attitude to marriage, of course. I'm sure he is most faithful and reliable. Doctors always are." Honey said she was glad Miss Morris thought so and. hurried out to escape further comment. But, wherever she went, smiles and glances followed her. . She was even aware that .curtains in front windows quivered suggestively as she walked past. "I don't- know why everyone should be quite so interested," she remarked a trifle crossly to her mother. "Oh, but, darling, all the world loves a lover," Mrs. Milward reminded her. And then, a little as though she ' thought that might be easting aspersions of Dr. Anston's motives, -she' added hastily, "Meaning an engagement and a wedding, of course." "All the same, I could have done with a bit less" audience participation and rather more privacy," Honey said with a sigh. "But I suppose it can't be helped." 50 The climax, however, was reached the following day, when a Rolls-Royce drew up outside the Milwards' house. Out stepped Madame Seroni, obviously to pay a state visit. Her object was two-fold as she explained with inoffensive candor. She had come first to apologize for her non-appearance at the meeting, and then to satisfy a most lively curiosity as to the girl who had succeeded in capturing her somewhat elusive nephew. She was a large, handsome woman, with a bosom designed by nature for the display of diamonds. But she was also kind and amusing, and quite prepared to like Honey on sight. "No wonder he fell in love with you, dear child," she said, regarding Honey with favor, and speaking in a beautiful, mellow voice that penetrated without effort to every corner of the room. "You're the prettiest thing I've seen in years." Honey naturally blushed a little at this and, smiling, said she was glad Madame Seroni was pleased with John's choice. "Very pleased," Madame Seroni repeated emphatically.. "And it was high time he married, in any case. No sort of life for any man, living in bachelor's apartments, with no interest in life but making people's faces look more attractive than God meant them to be." This view of plastic surgery was a novel one to Honey. But she smiled again and said very convincingly that she hoped she would make John happy. "Make him happy? See that he makes you happy," retorted Madame Seroni firmly. "Begin as 5i .you are going on, my dear. That's a sound rule in any undertaking. Even marriage," she added, apparently putting that low down on the list. Honey thought of the way in which John was regarded at St. Margaret's and quaked in the role now cast for her. "But he is a good boy," went on Madame Seroni, apparently finding nothing incongruous in this way of describing the Anston legend. "And I was' touched and delighted to hear how happy he sounded when he gave me the good news over the telephone yesterday." "Did he sound happy?" inquired Honey curiously. "Well, of course, dear child. .Surely that doesn't surprise you?" And her visitor laughed in a beautiful, but somewhat over-life-sized way. < "Not really. No," Honey murmured. Then Madame Seroni demanded to see her ring, and Honey had to explain that this was being brought from London the following day. ' "I'm meeting John in Forchester tomorrow evening," she explained. "I'm on leave from the hospital myself, but he, of course, will be operating there most of the day. We shall meet each other afterward." "But I can't imagine that you won't make an excuse to slip into the place first to let all your friends know the news." Honey's visitor smiled at her indulgently. "Nurses adore a bit of romantic gossip, don't they? And, of course, you will want to" tell them all about your engagement yourself.". "I think not," said Honey,, who was secretly unnerved every time she thought of trying to explain to Barbara and the others how it was that, far from hating Dr. Anston, as they all supposed, she had suddenly become engaged to him. ' "Not?" Madame Seroni raised expressive eyebrows amusedly. "Don't tell me you're self-conscious about capturing the most eligible bachelor in the hospital?" "Oh, no. Net at all," said Honey, hastily if untruthfully. "It's just that I think I shall leave it to John to say what he thinks best. And by the time I return on Sunday night, I expect everyone will have heard the news." Madame Seroni said that she thought Honey was doing herself out of a good deal of the fun attached to an engagement, but that i,t was entirely her own business. Then she prepared to make her departure in an atmosphere of the greatest friendliness. "She's charming, my dear, absolutely charming,' she assured Mrs. Milward, as though Honey were. not there. "A little shy, perhaps, but that's a good fault these days." And then she made a splendid exit, assisted by a very attentive chauffeur ready to spread a fur rug over her knees, before driving off in her Rolls-Royce. "Which does help, of course," as Mrs. Milward cryptically remarked. "She's nice," said Honey. "I like her. Even if she did let us down over the W.I. group meeting." "And, in view of what happened afterward, I think it's a good thing she did," declared Mrs. Milward, in a burst of generosity and forgiveness. Honey could not bring herself to echo this sentiment, and there was a moment's silence. "Why did she think you shy, dear?" asked Mrs. 53 Milward who, to tell the truth, had never noticed this one trait in her usually happy and friendly child. "Oh, I think it was just because I chose not to go and break the news of my engagement myself at the hospital," Honey said rather uncomfortably, "But it's much better if John does it." "Do you think so?" Her mother looked pensive. "I think most girls like to give
quite such radiant news themselves." "Not," Honey stated firmly, "to people like Sister or Matron." "Well no. Perhaps not to them," Mrs. Milward conceded. "But to your few chosen intimates." "That sort of news doesn't stop short at one's few chosen intimates in hospital," Honey assured her mother. "The report would be around the, place in no time. No, much the best thing is to leave it to Dr. AnstonJohn, I mean. He'll know just how to put it to Matron. At least, I hope he will," she added gloomily. "Then, by the time I go on duty on Monday morning, most-people will have become used to the situation." But nothing turned out the way Honey had planned. For, hardly had this conversation ended when the telephone rang. On answering its summons. Honey, discovered that no less a person than Matron wished to speak to her. For a ridiculous and panic-stricken moment, Honey thought Matron must have heard of her engagement and be about to reprimand her for something she regarded as a tasteless escapade. But common sense and Matron's next words dispelled -that idea. 54 "I am really sorry to have to break in on yourweek's leave. Nurse," she said, in a tone as nearly apologetic as is suitable between a matron and a third-year nurse. "I'm afraid this is the penalty of living within easy reach of your work." "That's quite ail right. Matron." In her relief at the discovery .that this conversation had nothing to do with her engagement. Honey sounded almost as though she had just been sitting by the telephone waiting for her holiday to be interrupted by the call of duty. "The trouble is that we have had several cases of flu on the operating room staff and are desperately short-handed. I wonder if it would be interfering wjth any very special plans of yours if I aske'd you to be on duty tomorrow morning and take the rest of your leave later?" "Why, of course I will. Matron," said Honey, still under the spell of relief. "I'll come back into the hospital tonight and be ready for duty, 'tomorrow morning as usual." "Thank you very much Nurse. It would be a great help. Dr. Anston will be operating in Room Two tomorrow, and, as you know, he does not suffer inexperienced pros gladly." it was the nearest to a humorous unbending ever achieved by Matron in their relationship so far, and Honey gave a flattered little laugh. "I'll be there. Matron. I promise," she said. Not until she had hung up the receiver did she . realize how awkwardly her personal situation had become. Her next meeting with Dr. Anston would not be as his fiancee, outside the hospital^-but as a nurse in, a place where his word was law. 55 "It doesn't matter, really," she tried to tell herself. But she knew very well that it mattered greatly. For one thing, none of the explanations of her new position would have been made for her. She would probably have to make them for herself. And then John would not even be expecting her. When he saw her, he would think. . . . Oh, well, she didn't care what he would think, she assured herself. And, anyway, he might possibly not even recognize her if he saw her in a mask and gown; particularly as he would be thinking of her, if he thought of her at all, as safely at home in Meadlands. Her mother was a good deal disappointed to hear that Honey was leaving them that evening, but she had long ago become resigned to the fact that nursing duties must come 'before everything else. "And anyway," she said, recalling a most consoling fact, "it will be useful to have a few days' leave in hand. You're sure to need some time for trousseau buying and that sort of thing, quite apart from wanting an occasional day with John sometimes outside the hospital." To this Honey somewhat doubtfully answered, "Yes," and went away to pack her case. She supposed, as she folded dresses and skirts, that she was, in some degree, relieved to be going away from home. Not that she loved-it any the less. But it is extraordinarily difficult to keep up an elaborate pretence with the people one knows and loves best. "I couldn't have done it at all if Michael had been here," she decided, with a nostalgic thought for her elder brother. He would, she could not help 56 reflecting, have probably extricated her m some way from her dilemma, if he had beein home. "He just wouldn't have let Dr. Anston make this ridiculous arrangement," Honey thought. And then she stood for quite a long time, staring out of the window into the garden, trying to decide just how relieved she would be if Michael were to appear suddenly on the scene and undo all the mischief of the last few' days. "He couldn't exactly put back the clock; of course," she told herself. "There would always be this extraordinary incident between John and me. But I don't knoW that I would mmd that so much. One couldn't ever again be dead scared of a man to whom one had been engaged. Even if the engagement were bogus." But at this point the whole thing became so complicated in her own mind, and the motives and /reactions so entirely inexplicable, that she abandoned any further attempt to disentangle the situation and completed her packing instead. Her mother accompanied her to the bus stop that evening, where, to Honey's secret irritation and her mother's mingled pleasure and annoyance. Miss Emms was also waiting for the Forchester bus. "Well, Honey," she said, in the manner of one who had a special right both to question and advise, "where are you off to now?" Honey explained about being recalled to the hospital, and Mrs. Milward quickly added a few words, calculated to give the impression that St. Margaret's had simply found that it could not manage without Honey's help. "So you'll be working with that young man of 57 yours in the same operating room?" said Miss Emms. Her manner was calculated to give the impression that, famous surgeon or not. Dr. Anston was merely a promising beginner, in her eyes, and that the biggest moment in his life so far had probably been when she had expressed approval of him at the group meeting. "I've been working the same operating room as Dr. Anston for sometime," Honey explained mildly, pressing her mother's arm warningly to stop her from rushing into a provocative reply. "Well, don't become so absorbed in each other, the pair of you, that you forget about the wretched patient," admonished Miss Emms. "We never forget about the patient at St. Margaret's," replied Honey coldly. Fortunately the bus came into sight at that moment, so there was no knowing what Mrs. Milward might have said, in angry defence of her daughter, her future son-inlaw (as she fondly believed), and the hospital where they both worked. "Goodbye, darling." Honey's mother kissed her and found time to whisper, "Keep your temper if you can. Though how you will, I don't know." "I'll be all right," replied Honey, smiling, as she returned her mother's kiss. Then she climbed into the bus, in the wake of Miss Emms's quite broad beam, and hauled in her case after her. Unfortunately, at this time in the evening, there were not many passengers traveling. So Honey had to sit beside Miss Emms, and listen, with what patience and courtesy she could, to an account of the full career of a brilliant woman surgeon whom Miss Emms had once known. 5.8 "There's no doubt, of course, that when you do get a good woman surgeon she's way in front of any man," Miss Emms stated authoritatively. "Much more imaginataw, much more coeaecientioiw, and altogether more reliable." And, so contrary is human nature, that Honey was surprised to hear herself retort, with some warmth, that no surgeon, man or woman, was more imaginative, conscientious or reliable than Dr. Anston. "Well, well, you're prejudiced, I expect," said Miss Emms, with a not unkindly chuckle. "I am not prejudiced! In.fact...." But, by a special dispensation of Providence, Miss Emms realized just then that she had reached her stop. So she said goodbye to Honey and disembarked, leaving that distracted sham-fiancee . thinking how very, very nearly she had told Miss Emms that she simply couldn't stand Dr. Anston. Honey had only ten minutes more of her own journey left. During that time she tried to compose her thoughts and arrive at some state of mind suitable to her new situation. But she had made little progress toward that desirable end when the bus stopped outside the nurses' residence. "St. Margaret's!" shouted the conductor, and in a friendly way helped Honey to lift down her case from the bus. Then the bus went on, and Honey walked the last few paces to the block that was the nurses' residence. No longer was she Honey Milward, the popular daughter of the Chairman of Meadlands Women's Institute. She was Nurse Milward, returning to the life in which John Anston was a remote, Olympian ' 59 figure, to whom one said, "Yes, sir," and, very, veryji rarely, "-No, sir." In this familiar setting, she reflected^ wryly, he would probably all but ignore her. Unless,^ of course, he had decided to. play his role as doting,| f
iance to the hilt. She repressed the leaping thought:! she rather hoped he would! I 6o
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