by Anne Vinton
Flo could scarcely believe she had not been listening to a fairy tale. She shook her head dazedly.
"How do we know Madame’s above board, Fay?”
“Just what Meg said, first thing,” Fay scowled. “Well, Mike Lammering went to see her, and he’s satisfied. Of course Madame wants to see you—all of us—before anything’s settled. She simply doesn’t want my musical future to be wasted.”
“And you—” Flo pressed on; “you’re sure it’s not the French chateau and the visions of glamor you’ve conjured up which are now influencing you? I seem to remember you were always going to get married as soon as you could. You’ll have to put the idea of marriage off for quite a while if Madame does sponsor your career, you know.”
“So what? Music’s my soul—my life,” Fay declaimed dramatically. “Men—and marriage—were merely possibilities in the gaining of my end. Now that I’ve got Madame, I don’t want men.”
“You’re obviously not in love, young lady. Well, you have my blessing if all’s as good as it sounds. Not being in a position to give you opportunities of such magnitude myself, I certainly won’t stand in your way. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Now, I must go and straighten myself out with Meg. Isn’t it your bedtime, Pixie?”
“Yes. But I’m no’ keen to miss any fun that’s going. I’ll toddle up when I’m ready.”
The remembrance of Meg’s bitter condemnation burdened Flo like a physical weight as she climbed the stairs. Why was she expected to understand without ever being understood? Too long she had been her family’s stay, she now knew to her cost; she had only to withdraw her support a little for somebody to be upset and angry at her for their own inadequacy.
“Come in!” Meg snapped as she knocked at the door between them.
Flo entered her sister’s bedroom determined not to quarrel. “The others told me about you and Mr. Lammering,” she said hastily; “at least they gave me their version of the story, and though I can scarcely believe it I—I’m thrilled to bits for you, Meg. It is true that he proposed to you, is it? I never suspected things had gone so far.”
Meg was sitting at the dressing-table brushing her hair into a halo.
“Perhaps your conscience is easier' now that another man has looked in my direction?”
Flo flushed and sat on the bed.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it actually happened,” she said levelly, “but as it was I don’t think my conscience can be called to account as much as circumstances over which I definitely had no control. Jim and I had things to tell one another, also.”
“Nobody’s questioning that,” snapped Meg. “I was as happy for you and Jim as I was happy for myself until—today.”
“And what happened today?”
Meg choked. “Your ex-boyfriend called to see me.”
The unknown visitor!
Flo furrowed her brow. Was Meg referring to Robert Strathallan by any chance? Did she suspect the truth?
“How interesting!” she exclaimed weakly. “I haven’t a large circle of ex-boyfriends. In fact I would have thought such a person would have called to see me, if anybody.”
“Yes, you would!” Meg turned to revile her, bitterly. “You want them all, don’t you? I can’t imagine how you manage to look so innocent and fool everybody. I suppose you’ll cast your eyes on Michael now, and before I know where I am he’ll be off with you to Sikkim, and I’ll be left behind bringing Pixie up, which is what you want for me, isn’t it?”
Flo’s heart was fluttering now like a wild bird in her chest. She suddenly realized what was upsetting her sister.
“It was Keith Bexley who came to see you, wasn’t it?” she asked sharply.
“Who else?”
“Well, he’s no friend of mine for a start, nor yours, nor anybody’s. You’re well rid of him.”
“Apparently you decided that a long time ago, dear, loyal sister!”
“Now look here, Meg, I don’t know what Keith told you about me, but it was very probably lies. At least give me a chance to answer for myself. Of what do I stand accused?”
“Keith says he fell in love with you, which was why he gave me up; jilted me; threw me over; any pretty phrase you like.”
Flo was silent.
“Well?” demanded Meg aggressively. “Cat got your tongue?”
“I asked what I was accused of. I can’t answer for Keith, can I?”
“Hoity toity! You do admit that he fell in love with you, then? Dear me! who could have guessed that you were such a charmer?”
“I marvel myself,” Flo agreed, hanging on to her temper by a superhuman effort. “But one hadn’t to be so wonderful to captivate Keith in those days, though I trust you’ll pardon my saying so. One had merely to resist him, which I did with all my heart and soul. I never wronged you with Keith, Meg, no matter what he says to the contrary.”
The elder girl began to look a little less certain of herself. “It hurts—knowing your own sister was the one,” she breathed in a harsh whisper.
“I think I knew it would hurt,” Flo agreed, “which was why I never wanted you to be told, Meg. I wouldn’t have told you.”
“But you knew, didn’t you? You were always that much wiser about the affair than I was. I was merely asked to break my heart over a—a miserable little cheat who could turn to my own sister and—and—”
“And get his face slapped for his pains,” Flo concluded hotly. “I thought it was you and Michael now, Meg. Can’t Keith be forgotten after all this time? Are you going to let him break your new love affair up before it’s properly begun?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been so angry and so miserable since he was here. He said you wouldn’t let him come and see me when he wanted to make amends for the past.”
“Because he hadn’t been two minutes at The Glen before trying to start things up with me again. That’s why. If you think I was going to give him access to you after that you don’t know me, Meg.”
“Well, I have been seeing him for some time, you know, and he did propose again. What have you to say to that?”
“I’ll tell you what happened, shall I? You turned him down, told him about Michael, and then he’d have done anything to secure your interest in him. He told you about his past feeling for me, made the most of it and started this whole train of mischief. He’s hoping we’ll be at each other’s throats, can’t you see? And if Michael sees you—like this—he might be influenced, too, and then Keith has won what he set out to do.”
“What do you mean?” Meg demanded, fear in her eyes at long last.
“I mean you haven’t been a very lovely person this past hour, Meg. That’s what I mean. It would be as well for you to forget what a dreadful menace I am and concentrate on your chances of happiness with someone worthy of you. If Keith Bexley thinks this affair is over—his and mine—he has another thing coming. Now that I don’t have to consider possible repercussions damaging you I can tell a certain doctor exactly what I think of him and be half a stone lighter in the process!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Flo arrived at the hospital next day in good time to re-acquaint herself with the famous consultant neurologist, for she had other fish to fry first. Keith Bexley, however, as though anticipating her mood, was officiously busy whenever she asked to see him. She did not succeed in running him to earth until he appeared in Matron's office fawning around Sir Felix, and then, because he was by nature his own worst enemy, she began to feel rather sorry for him and the snubbing he invariably invited and had perforce to take.
“This is Sister Lamont, sir,” Keith introduced without preamble. “The patient is her—er—fiancé I think is the current epithet?” He smiled distantly in Flo’s direction as though hoping he wasn’t offending her.
“What’s wrong with being a sweetheart?” Sir Felix demanded in his bluff Yorkshire voice. “Have fashions changed in love, then?”
Keith tittered.
“I shouldn’t think so, sir,” he said daringly, as one
man to another. “A kiss and cuddle by any name would stir the old blood the same, what?”
The Consultant looked at Keith as though he was a new culture on a micro-slide, something to be watched as being a possible source of infection. He then turned his frowning gaze upon Flo and squeezed her small hand in his big one. “I saw you the other day, I know,” he said, “and your face was with me all the way back to Edinburgh. Didn’t I once give you a medal?”
“You did, sir,” Flo dimpled, pleased at being remembered.
“I said you would go far,” he now accused her. “Why haven’t you?”
Matron coughed somewhat huffily, and Flo felt embarrassed suddenly.
“We do some good work at The Glen, sir. I’ve been very happy here.”
“Rubbish!” he exclaimed. “You do nothing here a lot of probationers couldn’t do. You haven’t even a decent theater to work in. It’s no good you scowling at me, Molly MacDonald, this is a grand nurse gone to waste.”
“Sister isn’t manacled,” said Matron tartly. “She was free to come and she’s free to go. It so happens she found working at The Glen convenient for her domestic arrangements. She has a house in the district and—of course—she intends getting married.”
“Not for ages, though,” Flo cut in hastily, “and I repeat, I like working here very much.”
“Well, let’s go and see the boy,” said Sir Felix gruffly. “You come along, Sister. I should say you’re quite an interested party.”
“I don’t think we’ll need you, Strathallan,” Keith said as Robert opened the door for the Consultant to go through. “It isn’t quite your department, is it, old chap?”
Robert smiled helplessly, whimsically. Actually Jim Darvie was a medical patient, though the surgeon had been asked to set the fractured leg.
“As you wish, Bexley,” he granted.
“Of course Strathallan must come along,” Sir Felix said stiffly. “He invited me here.”
“Well, this man’s my patient,” Keith blustered. “I’m only conforming to medical etiquette.”
“Medical poppycock!” snorted the older man, and Flo felt immediately compassionate for the fool who stepped in where angels feared to tread. “If you want etiquette, read Debrett, man. If you’re interested in medicine barge in wherever you can, even under the Consultants’ noses. Beg, borrow and steal your knowledge, but don’t take medical etiquette seriously until you’re my age and have had your behind kicked as often. Why, this lad here”—he put an arm affectionately on Robert’s shoulder—“was a pupil of mine for a time, and he probably knows more about the human brain than you suspect exists, Doctor. Are you still going to leave him out of the party?”
Keith’s countenance resembled a beetroot.
“Certainly not, sir, when you put it like that.”
Matron said pacifically, “Doctor Bexley’s only a locum here, you know. He’s leaving us next week.”
Sir Felix’s brief, acknowledging glance implied, “Good news for The Glen!” though he didn’t speak.
Jim was sitting up in bed looking alert and cheerful. When he saw Flo in the party he smiled in her direction and said, “Hello, darling!” in a swift aside.
Sir Felix made his examination to the accompaniment of a commentary on various X-ray plates clipped on the portable viewer Sister Jamieson brought in.
“That’s where you got your bump, young man,” he explained, pointing to an area which looked lighter than the rest of the picture. “There’s a slight depression in the temporal area, which is why we want to keep you quiet in bed for a few weeks—”
“A few weeks?” Jim asked, dismayed. “I’ll lose my job in Malaya, and it’s a good job! This—this is awful!”
“And could be worse if you throw a fit about it,” scowled Sir Felix. “I must insist on quiet and calm, Mr. er—Darvie. After all, you’ve got your lassie.”
“Yes,” smiled Jim, quickly, “I’ve got her. I was dreading saying goodbye. Three years is a long time.”
“Be thankful for small mercies. Have you any pain?”
“My leg aches—”
“I mean in your head, man.”
“No, sir. I feel dizzy when I sit up sometimes, and rather vague.”
“You’re doing fine,” Sir Felix insisted. “The rest will fix you up in every way. I should write your firm, explaining...”
“I think my fiancée has done that.”
“She asked me to write a letter in medical terms,” said Robert Strathallan swiftly. “I explained all that had happened, Darvie. I shouldn’t think anyone would victimize you for an accident.”
“Perhaps not.” Jim looked more reassured. “Did you get m touch with the shipping line, Flo?” he asked, worrying afresh. “I should get a refund if you’re quick.”
“Which line is that, Jim?” she asked blankly.
“The Far Eastern, of course. I’m due to sail from Newcastle tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
“So you’re fine, m’boy, fine,” said Sir Felix, “and damned lucky.”
He edged his way out of the room followed by Keith, who still insisted on elbowing Robert out of position where he could, then Matron, Robert and finally Sister Jamieson with the X-ray screen.
“Flo!” Jim called, opening his arms.
“Just a minute, Jim,” she said, keeping her distance and wishing her heart wouldn’t palpitate so. “I must see Sir Felix off and hear what he has to say about you. I’ll be back.”
She made her escape and leaned against his room door for a moment, collecting herself.
Sir Felix mustn’t leave without knowing what she now more than suspected. She ran the party to earth once more in Matron’s office.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said urgently, looking tense. “I have something I wish to say which may be considered impertinent unless I prepare you.”
“Go ahead, Sister,” the Consultant invited.
“Well, I don’t agree Mr. Darvie is as well as you appear to think. He—he seems to me to be suffering from a certain amount of amnesia.”
There was a telling little silence.
“Really, Sister—!” Keith protested at length. “You might as well tell Sir Felix he doesn’t know his job and have finished with it!”
“I can bear somebody else’s opinion, thank you, Doctor, if it’s intelligent.” Keith subsided afresh. “This lass knows her lad, better than you or I do, and she obviously has a reason for making her pronouncement. Carry on, Sister. Only I will interrupt or question you while you’re unburdening yourself.”
“There has been something about Jim, since he regained consciousness, that I haven’t been able quite to put my finger on, Sir. But now it’s more definite. He gave his mother similar instructions to those he gave her two years ago, and he was worrying in her presence about his inability to sail on Friday.”
“What has this—?” Keith ventured, but was quelled by a single glance from the specialist.
“Do go on, Sister.”
“You heard him just now, fearing he might lose his job, and asking me to get a refund from the Far Eastern Line? Well, he has now held this same job down for almost two years, and given every satisfaction, so it’s hardly likely he’ll be sacked, is it? He sailed out two years ago on a Friday, but this time he was due to fly back, starting Wednesday. In my opinion, sir, those two years he spent in Malaya, up to and including his accident on the Ben, have been erased from his memory.”
Sir Felix dared anyone else to speak at their peril while he considered these revelations.
“You haven’t questioned the lad openly, Sister?”
“No, sir. I realize one has to be careful in a case of amnesia.”
“Wise girl! You may be right, you know. The way he’s been nattering about going out to Malaya could fit in with an initial assault or a return from leave. I might have gone away quite happily leaving the poor chap driving you all up the wall before it eventually came out in the wash. Well, Sister,” he suddenly twinkled, “he hasn’
t forgotten you!”
“No, sir.” She lowered her eyes, knowing that as she still retained Jim’s devotion, so must he be unaware of their new relationship and Jill’s very existence. It was like living a lie with him, and yet what could she do?
Sir Felix told her and everyone else.
“I won’t go back and see Darvie again today,” he decided. “We don’t want him to think there’s something queer. Let’s get rid of the shock first, and allow this depression to fill up naturally. Meanwhile I think Sister, here, should be detailed to nurse him.” He turned to Matron. “She can find out then, without direct questioning, exactly what he does remember. One or two names of his contacts in Malaya, for instance, could be dropped for bait. There’s no surgery and no skill can help in a case of this sort; only patience. I’ll come and see him again on Saturday.”
“What shall I tell Mrs. Darvie, sir?” Flo asked, having seen that lady arrive a few minutes ago. “Jim’s mother.”
“What sort of a body is she?”
“He’s her only child and she’s extremely devoted to him, sir.”
“Then we’d best get her as far away from him as possible. I’ll speak to her if you like.”