Jill glanced quickly at the clock on her desk. “Goodness! yes, I’ll come at once. Why didn’t you remind me?”
“I didn’t like to disturb you and Dr. Traven.” Jill glanced quickly at her companion, but Brenda’s expression was completely blank, betraying nothing of her thoughts.
“There was no reason at all why you shouldn’t. I was only giving him some tea.”
“I thought he might have come over to discuss a case with you. How was I to know you were only fixing up your week-end?”
Jill, passing Brenda as she stood in the doorway, gave the girl a quick glance. Her expression was cool and impassive, but there was no mistaking the underlying insolence of her words. Jill, walking ahead of her towards the ward, could almost feel the girl’s antagonism; no doubt she had overheard Philip’s parting remark, and it had merely served to add fuel to her already burning resentment. Determined to let it pass unnoticed, Jill threw open the folding doors of the ward, then, glad of an excuse to change the subject, turned to her companion. “What an awful noise! Shall we ever get the children settled down? How about letting them start some paper chains for Christmas, that might distract them.”
“I’ll get some,” Brenda Malling agreed. “It’s a bit early yet but, as you say, it might quieten them down.”
“Yes, the paper is in a box just inside the office. They’ll probably be torn and dirty by the time we are ready to put them up, but perhaps that’s all to the good. It will mean we’ll need another lot, which will serve nicely for distraction after next visiting day!”
By the time Jill had completed her ministrations to Mary and was making her way back to her office, all was quiet in the beds evenly arranged along each side of the ward. The older children—and even some of the tinies—were earnestly engaged in looping the coloured strips of paper into chains. Busy fingers were carefully manipulating the flimsy paper, happily vying with each other to complete the longest strip, parents’ and visitors’ departures completely forgotten in the childish dreams of Christmas which the coloured chains no doubt evoked. Jill suppressed a sigh. How easy it was to distract a child, how easy to replace a tear with a smile. She re-entered her office where Brenda Malling awaited her, ready with the day’s reports. Jill advanced towards her with a smile. How nice it would be if only they could be friends, but her smile evoked no response in the other girl. It was obvious that the distribution of paper chains had done nothing towards imbuing her Staff Nurse with the season’s goodwill.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The car purred its way along the country roads out of Sunsand Bay, over the Sussex Downs, and Jill relaxed against the leather seat, glad in the knowledge that she was going home for the week-end. Despite her love for her work, she was thankful to have left hospital and its manifold worries behind her for a brief forty-eight hours. She’d be able to forget the pin-pricks of irritation which Brenda Malling’s non-co-operative ways had caused her; forget, too, Duncan McRey s brusque and critical attitude. Once at Brent Towers she would be fussed and perhaps over-pampered, but it would be a pleasant change and, above all things she knew that Terry would give her a riotous welcome; Terry with his mop of curly hair and bright blue eyes, his chubby limbs and winsome smile, always showered on her boyish admiration and affection. He was an adorable child, full of laughter and high spirits, and it was a considerable source of surprise to Jill that her indolent mother should have produced such a boisterous offspring. Terry quite obviously realized that neither his mother nor his father in spite of their spoiling, ever really wanted to join in childish games, and it had always been left to Jill or his nurse to play with him, to teach him nursery rhymes, and later on to help build up his Meccano toys and more recently to instruct him in the use of a cricket bat. He had learnt eagerly, and from the beginning had shown himself an adept at games, was already a swimmer of no mean ability, and showed a remarkable courage about everything. He was never known to cry, and the nearest approach to tears he ever reached was to give a long drawn out “Oooh,” rub his knuckles into his eyes and mutter, “That hurted, that did,” and carry on with whatever he had been doing. Darling Terry, it would be grand to feel his arms round her neck again, since with Jill he made no attempt to conceal his emotions.
“Are you asleep?” Philip Traven’s query roused Jill from her thoughts. “You haven’t said a word for miles. What’s the matter, is it too early in the morning for conversation, or don’t you believe in talking to the driver?”
“A bit early admittedly, although by hospital standards I should have been round the wards by now. I was just thinking how pleasant it will be to be home. I think that people who live a community life always appreciate their homes more than those who are permanently in them.”
“I agree. That’s why my visit to Brent Towers always meant so much to me.” Philip spoke reminiscently. “I shall never forget the marvellous times we had together there. You know I always was a bit goofy about you.”
“What absolute rubbish. You are making it up. You were never the slightest bit ‘goofy,’ as you call it, about me in the old days, and I’m certain that you’re not now. We’re just jolly good friends, and you know it perfectly well!” Jill settled herself more snugly under the rug and stared out of the window. It was true what she had just told Philip. They were good friends and nothing more. He had always liked feminine company, and in his student days had been in and out of love more times than she could number, but he had never been serious for long, and the various girls did not appear to take him seriously either. After the depression of the past few weeks Jill was glad of his cheerful company, and with a renewed sense of wellbeing she was able to enjoy to the full the wide vista of the rolling downs and the long undulating sweep of the Surrey hills. Even in winter the countryside appealed to her, and it was a positive tonic to see the steep slopes after the barren flatness of the scenery round Sunsand Bay. A fine layer of frost covered the trees and hedges, and now that a watery sun was making a brave display, the bare branches were sparkling in the faint sunshine. It was bitterly cold still, and Jill wondered if perhaps there might be a fall of snow. That would be fun. They’d be able to go tobogganing. She’d done that during one cold spell years ago with Philip. Should she remind him? No, better not, it was no good helping to make him sentimental; he needed so very little encouragement. In spite of her warm coverings Jill shivered again, and as they had reached the outskirts of a village, she felt an urge for a hot drink.
“What about stopping for coffee. I’d like to have a warm up before we get there; it can’t take us much longer, and I don’t want to arrive looking pinched with cold and with a red nose.”
“Red nose be bothered! It isn’t even pink!” Philip protested. “Still, it’s a jolly good idea to have a drink. What about a gin? The pubs are open.”
“Only just open!” Jill countered. “No, I’d far rather have a coffee. What about that place at the end of the street on the right with the gay sign? Why, it’s called the ‘Coffee Bean.’ I’m sure that’s the spot for us; the road’s fairly wide here, you can park the car outside. Come on, this’ll do splendidly.”
The interior of the ‘Coffee Bean’ was as welcoming as its exterior had indicated, and soon Jill and Philip were seated before a blazing log fire with steaming cups of coffee in front of them. An aromatic smell pervaded the small oak-beamed room and Jill sniffed the air appreciatively. “I adore the smell of coffee; it’s a pity so few places know how to make it properly.”
“I think my olfactory organs must be frozen, I’m too cold either to smell or feel anything.” Philip stretched his legs out towards the comforting blaze and rubbed his hands vigorously against each other, then, reaching out, he took Jill’s hands between his own and rubbed hers too until they tingled pleasantly. “Good idea of yours to come here. I hadn’t realized that I was becoming an iceberg.”
Jill withdrew her hands and loosened her coat. “I’m full of good ideas, aren’t I?”
“The best idea you ever had was com
ing to St. Joseph’s.” He looked at her searchingly. “You really are happy there, aren’t you? I’m so glad those silly rumours about your leaving weren’t true.”
“Don’t let’s talk ‘shop’, I want to forget St. Joseph’s for the time being.”
“If you want to forget it, then there’s something unpleasant about it.” He paused to drink his coffee, then added thoughtfully, “I suppose that McRey is the fly in the ointment?”
Jill laughed gaily. “I don’t think that Dr. McRey can be likened to a fly! But I must admit that he doesn’t add to the enjoyment of my work ... nor does Brenda Malling, for that matter.”
“Oh, Brenda, she doesn’t really count.” He dismissed her airily. “She’s a moody girl, anyway, and given to fits of pique. I’m in her bad books at present for daring to renew my friendship with you, but it doesn’t amount to anything that really matters. She’ll forget all about it soon and we shall both be forgiven. That’s one trouble disposed of!”
“Well, you won’t be able to dispose of Dr. McRey as easily as that!”
“I don’t see why not. He’s far too unsociable to be popular with any of the staff, but we’re all used to that by now and leave him to his own devices. He’s darned good at his job, which is the main thing, and the only person who ever manages to get him away from the precious book he’s compiling is Harriet Laine, and I take off my hat to her for that.”
“Yes, I must admit that Harriet seems to have a good effect on him, but that doesn’t help the rest of us.”
“That’s the worst of you girls, you make a personal issue of it. What does it matter if he is curt and supercritical? Keeps some of you up to the mark.”
“Makes us more pleased to see that nice Dr. Traven,” Jill mocked. “That’s what you really mean.”
“I don’t personally hold with all that he-man stuff. I find I get equally good results by being a bit affable.”
“You wouldn’t know how to be, anything else!”
Philip gave a mock bow. “Thank you, Jill, I accept that as a compliment, but if you take my advice, you’ll stand up to the dour Duncan. I feel he has more respect for those who show some spirit.”
“ ‘To take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them’,” Jill quoted meditatively. ‘That’s your idea, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and you’ll find I’m right. None of you nurses know how to handle him.”
“Maybe. Anyway, I’m not going to argue with you.” The striking of an old-fashioned clock on the mantelpiece caused Jill to look up in surprise. “Good heavens, it’s twelve already; we’ve been here ages. If we don’t get a move on we shall be late for lunch, and that would be stepping off with the wrong foot.”
They settled their bill and hurried out into the cold air, which blew in angry gusts into their faces. With a sigh of relief Jill settled back in the car. They were on familiar ground now, and she knew every bend and sharp corner, and as each mile passed her pleasure at her approaching homecoming increased.
Philip glanced down at her smilingly. “You look nice down there by my side, and lots happier than you did when we started out.”
“I feel happier, too,” she agreed. “It must be the result of talking ‘shop’, although I said I didn’t want to; anyway, it’s a taboo subject from now on, promise me, Phil.”
“All right by me. I’ve had my little say, and now you’d better put me right as to direction. We have to turn left at the next cross-roads, don’t we?”
The gardener opened the wrought-iron gates as the car turned into the wider rhododendron-flanked drive leading to the entrance to Brent Towers. Philip changed gear as the path rose steeply towards the vast red-bricked turreted house, which stood as a landmark visible for many miles. As the car drew to a standstill the heavy oak door was opened, and as Jill stepped across the threshold into the vast panelled hall, a swift thrill of homecoming encompassed her. With a smiling nod of greeting to the butler she turned to Philip. “I expect Mother and Trevor are in the library, don’t worry about our bags, they’ll be brought in, and the chauffeur will run the car round to the garage— come along in.” Jill hurried across the highly-polished parquet floor and pushed open the library door, with Philip following behind her.
After her mother and step-father had greeted her affectionately, and welcomed Philip with unfeigned pleasure, Jill exclaimed eagerly, “Where’s Terry? Why isn’t that bad lad here to welcome me? I’ve almost been counting the minutes to my arrival, and I suppose he can’t be persuaded to wash his face and comb his hair to come downstairs. Shall I go up, Mother, or will Nana be bringing him down?”
“Sit down darling, Terry’s not very well. I’ve only just come from the night nursery, and he’s asleep for the moment. I shouldn’t disturb him yet.” Madeleine Hallard pulled an armchair nearer to the fire. “There, Jill dear, make yourself comfy, you must be frozen after your drive. The weather is hateful, and this house never seems warm enough. Trevor and I had hoped to go to Cannes for Christmas, as usual. We are both longing to get out of this climate; it’s been a particularly dreary winter.”
“Yes, I know how much you dislike spending even a part of the winter in England, Mother.” Jill spoke a trifle impatiently. “But Terry? I am disappointed that he’s in bed. What’s wrong with him?”
“The doctor doesn’t seem to know...” Lady Hallard’s voice trailed off vaguely. “The child was perfectly fit a day or two ago; insisted on going into Guildford to see a Walt Disney film, and the next morning he woke up with a high temperature. It’s been up and down now for the last two days, and we can’t seem to interest him in anything or distract him at all. He’s terribly irritable, too. Poor little pet, he’s been sick as well. The doctor thinks it’s probably gastric ‘flu.” Lady Hallard sighed deeply and addressed her husband. “Would you like to pour the sherry, dear, it’s all ready on the table by the window.” She turned to Philip. “We have a rather delicious brand here, which I do recommend on a cold day in preference to the Amontillado. I’m so pleased that you were able to come with Jill, it’s quite like old times.”
“It’s grand being here.” Philip spoke with genuine pleasure as his eyes wandered round the well-remembered room, luxurious yet dignified, with its oak-panelled walls and deep crimson draperies. “I’m sorry to hear the boy’s in bed. I was looking forward to seeing him.”
“In my opinion it’s nothing more than a chill,” Sir Trevor broke in. “He got soaked to the skin while he was out riding at the beginning of the week, and I thought he seemed a bit languid the day he went to the pictures. It was only because he was so grumpy that we let him go. You know, Jill, how your mother gives in to him all along the line.” He smiled affectionately in her direction, and it was obvious that he was inordinately proud of his elegant and youthful-looking wife. Perhaps in his husbandly pride he ignored the carefully made-up complexion and the unnaturally bright fair hair, although the years sat lightly on Madeleine Hallard, and her upright figure was as slender and supple as a girl’s.
Jill looked across at her stepfather. “And I suppose you never give in to him yourself. You are just as bad as one another. She crossed to the door. “I’ll go up and have a word with Nana while you are fixing the drinks.”
Jill ran lightly up the stairs and made her way to the nursery quarters. She had such happy memories of her early childhood; a nursery full of every toy to delight her—dolls’ houses, teddy-bears, toy-shops, mechanical toys and games of every kind. Later, these had been put away, and then there had been books, hundreds of books, and even when she was grown up she had always returned to her own day nursery whenever she had wanted to indulge in a ‘good read’. And as, a background to her beloved nursery there had always been Nana—Nana who had come to Brent Towers as an under-nurse and had stayed to become the cherished friend of the family, and at the birth of Terry to find herself once more in the nursery. Jill had been delighted when the day and night nurseries, long neglected, had been repainted for Terry. Most of her toys ha
d been given to the local children’s hospital and a new and more boyish set supplied for the new baby. Jill knew that she herself had been a spoilt only child, but hers was nothing to the spoiling which was showered on Terry, who admittedly had the most taking ways and a smile which would melt the sternest heart.
“Oh, I’m so glad, so delighted to see you.” Nana had emerged from the nursery and was holding Jill fondly in her strong arms. She put her finger to her lips to enjoin silence. “Come into my room for a minute. I’ve left the communicating door ajar so that we can hear if Terry wakes.”
Jill returned her Nurse’s greeting, then seated herself on the cushioned window-seat. “Nana, you look fine, younger than ever!” She appraised the older woman, then added, “I do believe that you’ve put on weight. Those curves seem a bit more pronounced than usual.”
“I’m sure I haven’t. It’s just this overall—the laundry will starch them up so.” Nana quickly smoothed down the white linen, but the starch wasn’t all to blame, and no amount of smoothing could ever conceal the ample lines of her figure. The older woman’s pleasant features broke into a smile. “There, you always were pulling my leg. Jealousy, that’s what it is. You could do with a bit more flesh on your bones yourself!” Her tone became more serious as she added: “Do you like that new job of yours? Her ladyship was telling me you are a Sister now—my word, that’s an important job, isn’t it? Still, the way you’ve worked I’m not surprised. If anyone deserved to get on, you did.”
“Never mind about me,” Jill interrupted, knowing only too well that once her old Nurse got warmed to the subject of her own merits, she might go on interminably. “Tell me about Terry. I’m terribly disappointed that he’s ill. How is the young rascal?”
“To tell you the truth, Jill, I’m hoping the doctor will be along soon. I’m a bit worried about Terry. His temperature does seem to jump about so, and I’ve never known him complain of his head aching before, he is so limp and lifeless too. It will do him a power of good to see you, maybe take him out of himself. You know he isn’t one for temperatures. I’ve a feeling it’s more than a chill, and he is sickening for something this time—maybe measles, you never can tell what you pick up in the pictures. I don’t hold with them myself; but there, you can’t keep children in cotton wool all their lives, and Terry’s got to take his chance like all the others.”
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