“Such as that fact.” Ann pointed a slender forefinger at the form he was studying. It was a routine hospital form — name of patient, address, date of birth, and it was this last line which had caught Ann’s eye and about which she now commented.
“I’ve remembered that my birthday is in April, not October ... and I’m twenty-three, not twenty-four.”
The doctor and Sister both raised their heads to look at her. Sister began slowly, “But...”
Lievers said nothing, but the look on his face was guarded.
And then all at once Ann realized the extent of her blunder. She had remembered that her birthday was in April ... memories of daffodils blowing under the trees and tulips like stiff little soldiers beginning to show gleams of color in their green helmets, but October must be the birthday of the Anne Woods she was impersonating, and Mrs. Woods herself must have given the hospital all this information.
She saw Doctor Lievers exchange a glance with Sister and shake his head as if warning her to make no further addition to that startled “But ...” He passed on quickly to other remarks and questions and finally closed the folder.
“That’s all this time, Miss Woods. You’re making excellent progress. Don’t you agree, Sister?”
“I’d like to see those cheeks of hers a little less hollow,” remarked Sister in her forthright manner. “Are you getting proper meals, child?”
“Of course, Sister.”
“Then you’re not getting enough sleep,” was the sharp reply. “Are you working too hard?”
“Not too hard.” Ann forced her voice to gaiety. The lipstick hadn’t deceived Sister after all, but then Megan had always said very ruefully that one never deceived Sister no matter how much one tried.
The shrewd eyes continued to examine Ann’s face. There was no reference at all to the lipstick.
“I can see what you’re thinking, Sister. We ought to see her more often,” Lievers remarked, as he got up.
“All right, Sister, arrange for next week at this time again.”
“Oh, but...” Ann’s face was disturbed. She couldn’t be away from Fountains very often. Beverley had protested about her going out this afternoon, and Miss Pollard had now got used to her having responsibility for the children for part of the afternoon, if Iain Sherrarde wasn’t taking them out in his car.
Doctor Lievers had given her his apparently absent-minded smile and had gone, so there was only Sister to hear her protest. “Sister, I feel so well. It seems such a waste of time when I’m so busy...”
“As a trained nurse, you should know that taking care of your health is never a waste of time,” the other replied, making a note on the appointment sheet. “Do you get into the fresh air as much as you should?”
“I go for walks with the children.”
“What about social life? There’s Matron’s Ball very soon. Are you going to that?”
Ann felt as if a cold trickle of water had just passed down her spine. Something had happened at a Matron’s Ball a long time ago — something she didn’t want to remember.
She forced a laugh. “I don’t suppose so.” Iain would be going, of course ... and Doctor Lyntrope, she thought.
As soon as she could decently do so, she escaped from the private wing and made her way towards the bus terminus. The vehicle was already full and she had to stand for part of the way. Though that was preferable, a million times preferable to returning with Iain Sherrarde.
But what had become of her resolution to tell Doctor Lievers that she had made a mistake in choosing to go to Fountains, that she wanted to change her mind and go back to Queen Frida’s?
She had been determined on that course before she met Iain Sherrarde this afternoon, and that encounter with him and the brutal accusations he had made against her had hardened her resolution still further. If ever a man had shown contempt, he had shown it for her.
She thought: I can’t even make up my mind and keep a decision. I’m like a leaf in the wind — blown here and there. I ought to have some treatment, obviously.
She tried to tell herself that she had said nothing to Doctor Lievers this week because it would be unfair not to prepare Mrs. Woods. She couldn’t leave her without warning.
Her mind flickered for a moment over Sister’s reference to Matron’s Ball ... to that flash of memory that had come and gone when the phrase was first mentioned. What was there in that life behind her at Queen Frida’s that she wanted to turn her back upon?
There was a letter for her next morning in handwriting that she recognized with a sickly chill.
“I’ve been away for a spot of leave, sweetie, and only got back at the beginning of the week. I hope you’ve missed me. Meet me this afternoon during my time off — four o’clock sharp at the gate at the end of the wood. You’d better!”
There seemed something horribly sinister in that last little phrase. What was he threatening now? She told herself that the worst he could do was to tell Iain she was a fraud and impostor, but as he thought so badly of her already, what did that matter?
She bit her lip nervously. There was another possibility. Gateworth had been on leave, probably to London, probably searching for the real Anne Woods. If he had made enquiries at Queen Frida’s he might have found out that a certain Ann Wood had also trained there. What else might he have learned?
It was the not knowing, the uncertainty of it all that caused her this insidious worry. Yet for most of the morning she was quite definite in her mind that she would ignore the letter and fail to keep the appointment. By lunch-time, however, she had changed her mind. It he had found out something about her, it was better to know the worst. After that, she could go ahead with her plans to leave Fountains.
She had planned to ask Averil to keep the children with her that afternoon, but when she managed to extricate herself from Beverley’s demands, and went in search of the governess, she found that the girl had already gone out and the children were dressed ready for their walk.
Miss Pollard had got them ready early, Emma explained, because she wanted to do some shopping and Burrows was taking the car into Sunbury.
Ann saw that there was nothing else for it but to take the children out herself, for now they were dressed, they would make a scene if someone didn’t.
A few minutes later they were all outside in the pale sunshine. The children ran ahead and then came running back to point out their discoveries, a curiously shaped tree, a stone which might be a diamond, a marble which they had lost “ages and ages ago.” They led the way, making for their favorite spot, the copse where they usually inveigled Miss Pollard or herself to play hide and seek. It was during such a game that they had twice managed to slip away from their governess and “fall,” as that young woman expressed it “into Doctor Lyntrope’s clutches.” So though Ann agreed to play, she kept a wary eye on the two and managed to forestall any inclination to wander towards the road.
She had now made up her mind that she herself was not going anywhere near the gate. She refused to entertain the idea of talking to Gateworth with the children in earshot.
Guy was already enquiring whether it was time for tea, and as the fickle pale sun had gone and the wind was blowing cold, Ann decided that they had better go back to the house.
It was then that trouble started. Guy, racing ahead, tripped over a branch and fell, catching his knee on a stone. The resulting cut was not deep, but he insisted on having a handkerchief bound round it, and while she was attending to him, Ann lost sight of Emma.
“Where is she?” she demanded of Guy, who looked completely innocent as he said he didn’t know.
Ann took a quick look about her, feeling a little more sympathy with Miss Pollard than she had previously done.
If one of the children ran away, you couldn’t easily pursue, because you had to keep an eye on the other one who would probably hang back, as Guy was doing now, declaring that his leg was hurting, and he couldn’t hurry. Now she must either leave him or take the chance of Emma�
��s getting on to the road.
“All right, darling. Stay here until I’ve caught Emma,” she said.
Guy immediately set up a yell, declaring he didn’t want to be left. He had a “poor leg.” Ann took a sharp glance at him and saw that there were merely delaying tactics. So she released her hand and said briefly, “Guy, stay where you are. Don’t dare to move. I’ll be back in a few moments.”
She ran down the path, turned to the left and hurried in the direction of the road. She should be quicker than Emma and arrive at the gate before her.
But when she did reach the gate there was no sign of the little girl. Only the man she had resolved not to meet.
“No need for running. You aren’t as late as all that,” he said. “Unless—” and now his smile broadened — “you couldn’t wait to see me. It’s seemed an age, beautiful. I’ve felt the same.”
Ann drew away from his caressing hand. “I haven’t come to meet you. I’ve got the children with me, and Emma has run away.”
“She can’t have run far,” the man said easily. “She’ll turn up. In the meantime...”
Ann turned away. She had planned to wait here for Emma, but perhaps it would be better to go back for Guy.
“If she comes, keep her from going in the road. I must go back to Guy.” She ran back in the direction from which she had come. Now Gateworth was there, she might as well make use of him. She could leave Guy in his care while she searched for Emma.
But there wasn’t a sign of Guy on the path where she had left him. She looked about her. Had she made a mistake? But no, the stone was there on which she had sat while she bound up his knee. Emma had probably doubled back on her tracks and persuaded him to run off with her.
Ann stared around, but there was no sign of them. They had brought games of hide and seek to a very fine art. The only thing now was to enlist Gateworth’s aid. They must both keep watch on the road, or perhaps he would search while she kept watch.
He was still waiting and appeared very amused at her distress. “What are you so upset about?” he demanded. “Surely you’re not afraid of getting the sack like that other popsie that looks after them?”
“Miss Pollard! Do you know her?”
“I made it my business to get acquainted. I told her I knew you pretty well and that we were ... sort of ... attached.”
“You had no right to tell her that,” Ann retorted indignantly. “You know it isn’t true.”
“Well, one can always hope,” he replied impudently. “Doctor Whitely and his girl friend know about us ... and a few other people.”
Ann found herself going hot and cold as she stared at him. No wonder Megan had seemed embarrassed and her teasings had held a warning note. She hadn’t been referring to Iain, but to ... And with others at the Institute believing there was something between her and Gateworth, no wonder Iain had had the same idea.
“I ...” Ann felt like taking to her heels and putting as much distance as she possibly could between herself and this hateful creature. How was she ever going to extricate herself?
And then she remembered her missing charges. She hadn’t time to be thinking about her own difficulties. She looked up and down the road, but there was no sign of Emma and Guy. Further along, the high wall gave place to iron railings through which a child might easily slip.
“Please stay here and watch that the children don’t come through the gate,” she requested.
“What are you worrying about, beautiful? They’ll be all right.”
“Where can they be?”
“Playing in the woods, of course,” he responded easily. “Now stop worrying about them for five minutes, and listen to all I’ve found out at Queen Frida’s.”
Despite her anxiety, Ann stopped dead, staring at him with a white face. “What do you mean?” she asked.
He laughed in an odious, teasing manner. “I thought that might interest you. But first about Anne — my Anne — or shall we say my other Anne.”
Ann shrank. Suddenly she didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. She was sure it would all be lies. There was a horrible hint of cruelty in his eyes and in his voice,
“I must look for Emma and Guy. Why—!” A dog had run from the gate leading into the copse and was barking vociferously. “Hullo, old boy. Good dog. Oh, if only the children hear him barking, they’ll come. They adore dogs.”
“Which is more than I do. Get away, you brute!” He kicked out at the little animal, which barked louder than ever.
Then an imperious voice called, “Peter, heel!” and the animal obediently ran in the direction of the voice. A moment later Doctor Lyntrope appeared.
“Have you seen anything of the children, Doctor Lyntrope?” Ann asked, forgetting in her anxiety what she was giving away.
“Do you mean that you’ve let them stray now?” Maureen Lyntrope’s face tried to register dismay and horror, but there was more of triumph in her eyes than any other emotion.
“They’re playing hide and seek among the trees,” Ann replied hastily, “Goodbye, Mr. Gateworth.”
“But, Anne, you’re not going yet, surely. I’ve still got heaps to say to you, sweetie,” and he put out a hand to detain her.
Doctor Lyntrope’s sharp blue eyes went from one to the “Perhaps I’d better go to look for the children,” she said significantly.
Ann did not bother to make any reply. She ran back through the gate into the copse. She searched desperately for several minutes, and all at once came upon them, chasing each other merrily round a tree, Guy apparently having forgotten all about his “poor leg.” Ann’s clean handkerchief with which it had been bound was nowhere in sight.
She took the children’s hands and said firmly, “You’re two little horrors. No wonder Miss Pollard lost you twice. I can see how it’s done now. We’re going home immediately.”
They both began to shout that they did not want to go home, though before Emma had run away, they had been demanding “tea.”
Ann tried to look stern. “I want my tea now. And we won’t come up here among the trees any more until you learn not to run away.”
“But we didn’t run on to the road,” Emma pointed out righteously.
Ann agreed that they hadn’t, and was just reflecting that this might show a slight improvement in their behavior, when Guy added naively, “No, we thought the witch might get us if we went on to the road.”
“You’ll have to promise not to run away at any time,” Ann said, “before ever I bring you up here again.”
They suddenly gripped her hands more tightly. “The Witch has come into the woods after us!” Emma suddenly screamed hysterically. “Auntie Anne, don’t let her take us away. We won’t run away again.”
“The witch! The witch!” roared Guy, and burst into tears, flinging himself at Ann. “Don’t let the witch take us, Auntie Anne. We didn’t go out onto the road this time. We didn’t! We didn’t!”
Doctor Lyntrope said icily, “So you’ve found them. What’s wrong with them? Why are they shouting like that? You’ve no more control over them than that other person. Mr. Sherrarde is going to hear of this.”
“She’s a witch,” wailed Guy. “She’ll turn us all into toads and we shall have to live under a stone and hop like this.” He curved his small back with the instinctive mimicry of childhood and began an absurd jumping and trying to dive under a stone.
“What on earth is the boy talking about?” Doctor Lyntrope demanded now, her color rising.
Emma, never backward when any candid remarks were flying round, said defiantly, “He’s talking about you. He says you’re a witch, and I think you are too, but I don’t think you can turn us into toads.”
Her big blue eyes were blazing with excitement, but there was a half defiant, half fearful expression on her face. Suppose she did turn them into toads? she was thinking.
The thought was too much for Emma, even lady toads, weren’t pretty. She too clutched Ann and began to howl fearfully.
Gateworth had
refused to be shaken off either, and he had been a grinning observer of the whole scene.
“You don’t seem to be exactly popular, sister,” he observed, in his hateful pseudo-American drawl.
It was all too much for Doctor Lyntrope. She pulled hard at the leads of her two dogs, who were adding to the confusion by barking loudly, pulling them behind her.
Ann gasped. Gateworth was a fool to be so impertinent, and as to the children, they had made an unfortunate situation very much worse by their reactions to the woman doctor’s appearance. Doctor Lyntrope would be all set to make trouble ... a good deal of trouble,
“Emma and Guy, stop crying at once,” she commanded clearly. “Before we go, you must apologize to Doctor Lyntrope. Come along. Say you’re sorry for being rude, both of you.”
Emma came out of her hiding place under Ann’s coat and wiped her tear-smudged face with a begrimed handkerchief which Ann recognized as Guy’s late knee bandage.
“But I’m not sorry,” she yelled rebelliously. “I’m not! I’m not!”
“Atta kid,” congratulated the grinning Gateworth. “You’re a girl after my own heart.”
Ann snapped at him, “Will you be quiet!” and then she stared hopelessly after the retreating figure with the two poodles. It was obvious that Maureen was in no more of a mood to accept apologies than the children were to make them. Ann sincerely hoped that she hadn’t heard Emma’s latest piece of defiance.
“We’ll go home, then,” she said grimly. “Come along.”
She jerked at Emma, who had now forgotten Doctor Lyntrope and defiance in wide-eyed admiration of this young man — Auntie Anne’s young man, Miss Pollard had called him when they had met him once before.
“I want him to come with us,” she announced, pointing a grimy forefinger at the grinning Gateworth.
“And so I will, beautiful,” that young man assured her. “Let’s get going.”
Emma would willingly have released Auntie Anne’s hand in favor of this fascinating stranger, but Ann held on grimly.
“Please don’t make things more awkward, Mr. Gateworth,” she begged in a low voice. “I’m afraid that Doctor Lyntrope will complain to the children’s guardian — Mr. Sherrarde — about their behavior. You could see that she was very angry.”
Nurse Ann Wood Page 14