Ring for the Nurse

by Marjorie Moore

  “I don’t believe it,” Felicity announced firmly. “I am sure he cares about her—I’ve good reason for thinking that,” she remarked as she recalled Guy Brenton’s whispered words. “She must care about him too. Look how she sat with Brenton that night he was so ill—I know it was terribly silly of her, but she probably did it because she cared—the flowers she sent too, and the way she has been ringing every day to know when she can see him again.”

  “All right, darling, keep your illusions,” Diana responded good-naturedly. “I still think that our Brenton has been had for a sucker. That usually happens to men who fight shy of girls, they go on fighting and then fall hard—for the wrong type too!—he isn’t the first to be taken in by a pretty face and I don’t expect he’ll be the last either. We know, or at any rate we can hazard a good guess at Guy Brenton’s opinion of girls ... less than the dust we, are to him.” Diana grimaced and then her voice took on a more reminiscent note. “You remember what he’s like at hospital dances, he does a few ‘duty’ ones and then he beats a retreat. I don’t suppose he knows that waists are meant to be lovingly encircled, I expect the most he does is to finger our vertebrae and to wonder if one of them has slipped! I’ve danced with him, I know!” Diana ended triumphantly.

  Felicity laughed at the vivid picture her friend had drawn of Guy Brenton at a hospital dance. “That’s all perfectly true but it makes it the more astonishing that he should have fallen for Alaine Jason, who, seems to have little to commend her to him except her lovely face and perfect figure.”

  “Not at all,” Diana countered. “She’s an actress if ever there was one and she was said by her own crowd to be determined to get him and apparently she did. From all accounts, she was a much nicer person before stardom got her name into neon lights, but having tasted success it’s only natural that her sole interest now lies in the film world and its ways which are a closed book to us ordinary mortals.” Diana stretched her arms languidly above her head. “Still it doesn’t matter to us one way or the other.”

  “It does to me,” Felicity asserted. “Now that Mr. Brenton is, allowed visitors, Alaine Jason is bound to be here a lot and I can’t help wondering about the two of them.”

  “It seems quite understandable that a man, hitherto impervious to girls, could fall for the Jason type,” Diana reasoned. “Especially if she deliberately set out to get him before her name was starred, but she turned out to be one of the lucky ones who caught a producer’s eye and no wonder with features like hers, for a ‘close-up’, she must be God’s gift to photographers!”

  “I can’t help feeling sorry for him,” Felicity murmured.

  “Sorry for him!” Diana echoed derisively. “Why should you be? I expect there are long queues of men dying to be in his shoes!” She stifled a yawn. “We’ve gossiped far too long anyway, the sun’s making me sleepy. How about a little shut-eye?”

  Diana was still resting peacefully when Felicity rose to her feet and slipped quietly away. She had already cut things a bit fine and she only had time for a snatched cup of tea before returning to duty. She had envied Diana’s peaceful sleep, but their conversation had left her far too disturbed to attempt sleep herself, she had been so busy turning over Diana’s remarks. Her thoughts had in fact been in complete turmoil; Diana was level-headed and practical and certainly not given to passing on idle or malicious gossip, she must have believed it herself or she would never have troubled to repeat it.

  Felicity was still turning matters over in her mind as she hurried back to the ward. It wasn’t really her affair, surely Guy Brenton of all people in the world was capable of running his own life, it always seemed that there was nothing those keen eyes of his ever missed. When it came to people, he appeared to see right through them, to read them like a book, and if he had had any comment to make his judgment was invariably correct. Diana’s contention then was surely ridiculous, Guy Brenton would never be taken in by anyone, he must care for Alaine Jason and, what was more, Felicity felt certain that any girl to whom he gave his love would only too readily give her devotion in return.

  “Oh, Nurse Dene, there you are, can I go in and see Guy, it’s all right now, isn’t it?” Alaine Jason rose from her chair in Sister’s office as Felicity entered.

  “Yes, Mr. MacFarlayne gave permission this morning. I think you’ll find Mr. Brenton much better.” Felicity spoke conventionally, but with Diana’s words still running in her head she found herself surreptitiously searching her companion as if she would see beyond that charming smile and appealing manner.

  “I’ve been aching to see Guy again, he hardly spoke at all that first visit.” Alaine stopped abruptly and there was a note of marked concern, almost anxiety in her voice as she continued. “He didn’t seem to recall anything at all of what happened before the accident, do you know if he has remembered it since, I mean has he said anything to you about it?”

  “Mr. Brenton has not discussed” the matter with me,” Felicity replied shortly. Then doubting if her companion’s anxiety could have been prompted by mere curiosity, went on in explanation, “It’s not uncommon, you know, that loss of memory, it’s due to sudden shock and events immediately preceding an accident, may never be recalled.”

  “I see.” Alaine seemed to be digesting Felicity’s information. “Sorry, I was just thinking about things, I understand now, I’m afraid I’m very dense about such matters,” she added naively.

  With some relief Felicity watched Alaine Jason’s expensively clad figure disappear along the corridor towards Guy Brenton’s room. She did not want a prolonged tete-a-tete at that moment. Turning towards the kitchen she scrutinized the tray a probationer was preparing.

  “Two teas in Mr. Brenton’s room today, he has a visitor,” she informed the younger girl. “And cut the bread and butter nice and thin,” she added with a smile. “Not your usual door-steps!”

  The probationer returned Felicity’s smile as she bent over the loaf and cut with meticulous care. Felicity was a favourite with all her juniors, they were all only too willing to please her.

  Felicity smiled appreciatively at the wafer-thin slices, then picking up the tray carried it along the corridor and tapped at the door. Sounds of Alaine Jason’s gay laughter came clearly to her and in that brief moment of waiting there was no evidence of Brenton’s response. Perhaps after all it had been rather a vain hope to expect her patient to get either relief or reassurance from a person as completely temperamental as Alaine appeared to be.

  That impression was only further endorsed when as Felicity arranged the tray, placing it carefully within her patient’s reach, she heard Alaine continue with a highly coloured account of the morning’s film shooting. She was, as appeared to be her habit, imbuing it with every possible dramatic effect, making her conversation, in Felicity’s opinion, most exhausting to listen to.

  “Thank you.” Guy Brenton addressed Felicity as she stooped to arrange his backrest that he might more readily reach the tray. “Special effort with the bread and butter, I see; we are duly impressed.”

  Was this a sample of his hateful sarcasm? Felicity felt her cheeks reddening, then, as she straightened up she was certain a smile was twitching the corners of his lips, and was unaccountably pleased.

  Alaine, realizing that Felicity’s entrance had entirely distracted her audience, stopped speaking, then without the slightest trace of rancour addressed Felicity. “You’ve interrupted the most wonderful tale I was telling Guy about a scene we had at the studio this morning—it really was a riot! I must tell you—”

  “I don’t think Nurse Dene will be the least interested,” Guy Brenton broke in with an amused smile which took the sting from his words. “You can tell me the rest later—how about pouring out the tea now?”

  “But it was a scream.” Alaine gave a low, musical laugh. “You must hear the end, it’s really too, too amusing!” She paused, her face alight with animation. “You pour out, Nurse, there’s a darling, I really must tell Guy what happened!”
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br />   No doubt realizing that any further attempt to stem his fiancée’s enthusiasm would be wasted, Guy Brenton, with a brief nod to Felicity to pour the tea, relaxed against his pillow, with what Felicity felt sure was a sigh of resignation. Even as she bent to her task she was conscious of inward amusement, she was certainly seeing Brenton in a wholly different light. He might instil awe into quite a number of the nurses, but Alaine Jason appeared to be entirely beyond his control. Felicity’s feeling was not untinged with indignation, the girl had been there but a bare ten minutes, yet with her practised eye she could already detect signs of exhaustion in Guy Brenton’s drawn features, and although he listened in silence to the excited discourse, his eyes were half closed and she couldn’t help wondering whether he was even trying to follow the gist of the story.

  Alaine ended on a note of laughter. “The cheek of the man! Suggesting such a thing to me! You should have seen his face when I said I’d walk out on him! As if I should have done, but the old fool believed me and I got him eating out of my hand before we broke off for lunch.”

  “Most amusing—now how about your tea?” Guy Brenton turned to Felicity. “Miss Jason takes no milk or sugar.” Alaine Jason appeared to talk unaware of her audience’s lack of enthusiasm. She was still laughing when she took the cup from Felicity’s hand, but refused the bread and butter. “Nurse, be a dear, I brought some cakes with me, Guy’s favourites, I must have left them in that horrid little office where I was waiting, could you get them for me?” Felicity was glad to escape for a few minutes to regain her composure. Alaine Jason seemed to her to be the most incomprehensible person she had ever met, beautiful and intelligent yet in some ways incredibly stupid. Surely she could see that her fiancé was in no condition as yet for idle chatter, or was it just complete selfishness which blinded her? In spite of all that Diana had said, Felicity felt sure that she must care for Brenton, it was inconceivable to think that anything but love could have held her to a man so obviously restrained, while as for Guy Brenton’s feelings, Felicity felt just as much at sea about them as she had ever been.

  “Your cakes, shall I unwrap them?” Felicity asked as she handed the box to Alaine.

  “Please do ... and try one yourself, they really are super.”

  ‘Not just now, thanks.” Felicity set them out appetizingly on a plate, then turned to the door. “There isn’t anything more you want?”

  “Oh, don’t go! Can’t you get another cup and have some tea?” Alaine persisted, then turning to Guy Brenton added: “Do persuade her. Did she tell you how lucky I thought you were to have such an attractive nurse? Most of them are quite awful, they must have picked out the prettiest for you!”

  Felicity quickly averted her face, conscious of the ready flush which mounted her cheeks. “I have several things to do.” She was certain that; her voice betrayed her discomfiture, but even as she reached out for the door handle, Alaine’s voice again arrested her.

  “What a pity you can’t stay but I’ll see you again before I leave—and by the way, isn’t that nice Out Patients’ doctor, what’s his name, Elver, around anywhere? I wanted to ask him in to cocktails or something. You know, a little return for all the trouble he took that night.” She paused with a significant wink at Felicity. “Don’t worry, I won’t annex him—I noticed the morning that I broke in so unexpectedly on you both, I realize that he is the boy friend and I promise to return him to you unharmed!”

  Felicity bit back the angry words which rose to her lips and with a composure she was far from feeling, opened the door. She couldn’t wait a moment longer, one more word from Alaine Jason and she felt sure that she’d shed her last vestige of control. It was outrageous, she told herself, as burning with resentment she hurried away from the room. Alaine might be outspoken but there were limits and she had certainly passed those with her absurd insinuations.

  Half an hour later, Alaine, emerging from Brenton’s room, accosted Felicity in the corridor. “I’m just leaving, it was lovely seeing Guy again, and he’s so much better too.” Her tone was normal and she appeared to have no inkling of having caused Felicity any annoyance. “He still seems a bit weak but I suppose that’s only natural.”

  “Yes,” Felicity agreed shortly. She wasn’t finding it easy to disguise her recent resentment and had no wish whatever to prolong the discussion.

  “What’s the matter? You’ve gone all starchy suddenly!” Alaine’s completely disingenuous attitude was more than Felicity could stand, and throwing discretion to the winds, she turned directly to face her questioner.

  “I resented your reference to Mr. Elver. He works here. I have frequent contact with him, he is my friend and nothing more.” There was a quiet dignity in Felicity’s tone which obviously had its effect.

  “I didn’t mean any harm, I really didn’t! When I came on you two that day I saw him drop his arm quickly from your shoulder, it seemed perfectly natural to me to assume he was your boy friend. I wouldn’t have said a thing to hurt your feelings.” Her large eyes expressed regret. “In my crowd we make a joke of that sort of thing. You take everything so very seriously, I realize, that now. Please do forgive me, I didn’t mean it.” Her voice and whole bearing were so apologetic that Felicity could not fail to respond.

  “It’s all right, I suppose we look on things from totally different angles, one has to be pretty circumspect in a community such as this.”

  “Guy ticked me off too,” Alaine admitted ruefully. “He warned me that I had annoyed you, he said you went pink to the ears.” Alaine laughed with an infectious lilt. “I may as well tell you he also said you were the only girl he knew who looked quite bewitching when she blushed!”

  “Then he is certainly missing a bewitching sight now!” Felicity retorted as the warm colour flooded her cheeks. Her emotions were so confused that she hardly knew whether to be angry or amused, but she had to acknowledge that Alaine Jason had a most disarming manner and an incredible ability for getting round people and for turning every situation to her own advantage.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Although Felicity had always been happy in her work, for some indefinable reason the days which followed Guy Brenton’s admission to John Mason Ward were the most satisfying she had ever known. She felt a justifiable pride in the fact that she was responsible for his welfare and was, acceptedly, in complete charge of his case. Sister Robinson seemed only too glad to entrust her with the important perhaps subconsciously realizing that this was Guy Brenton’s choice.

  It was a disappointment to her that his progress had been so discouragingly slow, it seemed at times that it must be an underlying dread that he might never regain the use of his hand for the surgical work which was the basis of his career, that was thwarting the incentive towards recovery.

  Apart from the flesh wound on his shoulder which obstinately refused to heal, his general condition had made normal progress. He had been up for an hour or so for the past several days; but even that step forward on the road to recovery left him apathetic and disinterested. So often Felicity had longed for the opportunity of closer understanding of this apathy but any attempt she had made to break down his natural reticence had proved unavailing.

  This morning, she tried to persuade herself, he really appeared brighter but as she laid aside his practically untouched breakfast tray her momentary optimism left her and with a smothered sigh she turned to address him. “Will you be getting up for a little this morning, or do you prefer to wait until after lunch?”

  “The sooner the better, I’ve had quite enough of bed.” Pulling himself up on his pillows, he continued: “Enough of this room, too, I must speak to MacFarlayne about clearing out and getting away for a week or so.”

  The suggestion caught Felicity off guard; it had never occurred to her that he would not remain at St. Edwin’s a moment longer than necessary. She was glad that, having turned away to collect dressing-gown and slippers, her expression of surprise would escape notice. It was more than surprise, impossible to disguise
the fact that dismay and disappointment were uppermost. It was quite unreasonable, she told herself firmly; why should she care? His departure would lighten her work and it would be a relief to return to her normal routine. It would also remove those disturbing visits of Alaine Jason, those visits which still seemed to leave her patient exhausted, sometimes to a point of irritability which Felicity was left to cope with. He still required a tremendous amount of attention. His right arm, swathed in plaster, was useless and to her deep consternation—and she knew only too well to his too—his fingers remained powerless.

  Felicity placed dressing-gown and slippers on the chair, then in a subconscious effort to prolong the moment before she need turn round, she busied herself freshening up a bowl of spring flowers on a side table. The long-stemmed tulips and golden daffodils brought a note of gaiety to the austerity of the room and as she bent above them the sweet scent perfumed the air.

  “What do you think of those? Travelled well, didn’t they? They came by post this morning from my home in Buckinghamshire. My father is very keen on the garden and takes a tremendous pride in his flowers.”

  “They are wonderful.” Felicity spoke with feeling. “These red-tipped tulips, and those ragged-edged petals, I’ve never seen anything like them before, they must be very rare.”

  “I expect they are, they’ve probably some long unpronounceable name, but my father excels in any horticultural freak.”

  No longer able to occupy herself with the flowers, Felicity was forced to turn again to her patient. Even as she helped to place the dressing-gown over his shoulders and assisted him to the arm-chair, her thoughts reverted to his unexpected decision. Where would he go, and who would look after him? She steadied him while he lowered himself into the chair, then carefully placed a blanket over his knees. She had learned to anticipate his needs and before turning away to remake the bed, she arranged newspapers, books and ash-tray within reach. Snapping open his cigarette case she handed him a cigarette, then held a match until the tip of the cigarette glowed.