Nurse Ann Wood (13 page)

“When I’ve seen pictures of them, they always seem to be old and have very long noses,” returned Ann decidedly. In all fairness she couldn’t call Doctor Lyntrope anything but young and quite good looking.

But of course she might have known that Emma would take her own line. “She is a witch. A young lady Witch!” she announced. “Show her just opening the door, Guy with a tall black hat on, like an old lady witch.”

Ann laughed and winked at Averil Pollard behind the children’s backs. “They both seem to be budding artists,” she commented. “I’ll clear the tea things and take them down.”

Averil helped her to load the tray, and then followed her out of the room.

“Mrs. Woods told me to let you know that she won’t be back till late tonight,” she said, “and till this moment, I’d forgotten all about it. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ann began to go downstairs, still holding the tray. This meant that again she wouldn’t be able to tell Mrs. Woods about Gateworth. In a way she felt relieved. Perhaps it would be better to handle this on her own.

CHAPTER NINE

ANN sat down at a small table in a corner of the bar of the Ring o’ Bells and looked around. It was a new place, synthetically smart, with a lot of garish paint and chromium, and the clientele seemed rather mixed. In one way it was a relief to find the place was so large and busy. She would be far less noticeable here than in a quiet pub, which she had half expected it to be.

“There you are, sweetie,” said Ralph Gateworth in a voice that was much too familiar. “I wondered whether you would make it.”

Ann, trying to hide her distaste, said hurriedly, “I can’t stay long. The last bus goes at a quarter to ten. What did you want to say to me?”

He gave her a peculiar smile. “Oh, nothing in a hurry. Let’s have a drink. What will you have?”

“Nothing, thank you,” she said firmly. “Please tell me what you have to say to me.”

He continued to signal the waiter, who took not the slightest notice of him. “Better move over to the bar,” he muttered.

She shook her head. “Mr. Gateworth, please say what you want me for, and then I can go.”

He began to look angry. “Pretty good opinion of yourself, you’ve got, haven’t you, Miss No-Name?”

“What do you mean?” she asked in a cold voice.

“I’ve been making enquiries about you. It seems you turned up in this neighborhood on the night of the train smash and after a spell in hospital you’ve established yourself at Fountains as Anne Woods. Why?”

“Because I
am
Ann Wood.” She guessed he would not notice she had left off the “s.” “And I fail to see what business it is of yours.”

“It is my business. I’m engaged, or as good as, to the real Anne Woods, and I want to know where she is.”

Ann said spiritedly, “It seems odd to me that you should be engaged to a girl, whatever her name, and not know her whereabouts.” Color had crept into her face and her eyes were bright.

He stared at her slyly. “Actually, I don’t know that I’m really bothered about her any more. Her substitute is all right by me!”

Ann tilted her chin and turned her head. “If that’s all you have to say, I may as well go.”

She half rose, but he leaned over the table and gripped her wrist. Rather than risk a scene, she sat down, but her expression remained cold.

“Sit down. I haven’t finished. I was quite prepared to be pleasant about it, and I still am, but you evidently require some plain speaking. You’re
not
Anne Woods, whatever you say, and yet you’re accepted at Fountains. That means both Anne’s mother and her sister are in the plot. Obviously there’s something behind it — money, I should say. Well, I’ve been making a few enquiries about that, too. See!”

“You’ve evidently been very busy,” said Ann contemptuously.

“You needn’t bother to be sarcastic. I’ve got a thick skin.”

Ann forbore to say that that was obvious.

He went on, “It seems to me that Sherrarde holds the money bags, so he’s the one who’d be interested to know you aren’t what you seem. That being the case, if you aren’t co-operative, I shall just go and tell him.”

“What good would that do you?”

He shrugged. “None, and I’d rather not do it But it rests with you. You’ve merely got to be co-operative.”

“Co-operative!” She looked at him in disgust. One thing at least was clear. He didn’t know, any more than anyone else here, who she was. His threats were empty ones so far as she was concerned.

“If you want to make fool of yourself, you should go to Mr. Sherrarde,” she defied him. “Even if what you are assuming is correct, then Mrs. Woods and Mrs. Derhart need only deny your insinuations — and where are you then? And again, assuming they are correct, and you really want to marry your Anne Woods, aren’t you being foolish to antagonize her mother and sister?”

He looked thoughtful. “You’ve got something there, sweetie!”

Ann glanced at her watch. “I must go now, or I shall miss the bus.”

“You’d better wait and go with me on the back of the bike.”

Ann had no intention of doing that. “It’s too wet. I expect it’s still raining.” And then, “Are you going back immediately?”

“Not on your life,” he assured her. “I’ve been on duty all day and I want a spot of relaxation. I’m not moving from here — from the bar, that is — until I’m requested to do so.”

“Then don’t let me keep you from it,” Ann said coldly, as she began to put on her raincoat.

“You’d better wait for me. I’m not too sure about that bus,” he began. “Come on, little prude, and have a drink. That may liven you up.”

But Ann had turned away. He pulled at her arm. “This isn’t the last you’ll hear of me. Don’t think that.”

Ann was afraid it might not be. She hurried out of the hotel and back into the centre of the town, which was a good half-mile away. It was still raining heavily, and in the darkness she splashed into puddles and felt herself getting wetter than ever. There was no sign of a bus when she arrived at the stand, but still, she was in plenty of time. There was no one waiting, but she didn’t suppose it was a very busy route, especially at this time of the year.

She glanced at her watch again. It was odd ... She went over to the board which gave several time-tables and looked at the one she had studied earlier. Yes, here it was ... Sunbury 9.45. The bus was just a few minutes late, and on a rainy night like this it was perhaps not surprising that there were no people waiting.

And then as she stared at the time-table, consternation broke over her. For she had caught sight of the letters S.O. at the head of the column.

Saturdays only. No wonder there was no bus and no line of passengers!

The rain came down remorselessly as Ann started to walk on. She hadn’t enough money to engage a taxi, she couldn’t bring herself to go back to the Ring o’ Bells and find Ralph Gateworth, and she actually never thought of ringing up to Fountains for Burrows to come and fetch her.

She had walked a couple of miles and had almost reached the Institute when she was caught in the headlamps of a car. It passed her, a dark shape with two gleaming red jewels in its tail, and then it pulled up and began to reverse.

Ann thought, with a wry grimace, Surely not a knight of the road! I’m much too wet for amorous invitations. But her smile changed to consternation when she heard Iain Sherrarde’s voice.

“It’s an atrocious night to be walking. Could we give you a lift anywhere?”

The “we,” Ann saw, included Doctor Lyntrope, sitting beside him and looking none too pleased.

Ann prayed that the darkness would shield her. She tried to disguise her voice. “Thank you, but I haven’t far to go now.”

She might have known he wouldn’t be deceived by so childish a trick. He opened the door and jumped out “Ann, you must be soaked to the skin. What has happened? Why are you out alone on such a night?”

“Perhaps she hasn’t been alone,” laughed Doctor Lyntrope odiously. “Iain, you really shouldn’t ask questions like that.”

Ann said in a small tired voice, “I went into Sunbury and I misread the bus time-table. I thought there would be a bus at a quarter to ten, but it runs only on Saturdays.”

“Then why in heaven’s name didn’t you phone for Burrows to fetch you?” he enquired in an exasperated voice. “Get into the back seat and pull the rug around you.”

He almost pushed her into the car, his expression, or what she could see of it in the light of the car, very dark and angry. “What on earth took you to Sunbury on a night like this?”

She didn’t reply. She had got into the car because, really, it seemed less trouble to do so than to stand and argue.

Doctor Lyntrope gave a high, artificial laugh. “You seem to be making a habit of this, Miss Woods — being picked up in the darkness by Mr. Sherrarde,” she said. “One of these nights you may not be so lucky. You may have to walk all the way!”

Ann found the remark extremely offensive. “I don’t mind walking in the rain,” she said coldly. “And indeed, there are times when I prefer it.” Doctor Lyntrope could make what she liked of that.

Sherrarde spoke now, in a carefully controlled voice, “I’ll drop you at Dainty’s End, Maureen, and then run ... er ... Miss Woods back to Fountains.”

“Oh, please don’t bother. I can easily go through the copse and the garden. It will take me only a few minutes.”

“It’s far too lonely for you to go that way at night, and in this rain,” he replied firmly.

“It’s so much further round by the road,” Doctor Lyntrope put in, “and if we hadn’t picked her up, I expect Miss Woods would have gone the garden way.”

He said again, quietly, “I’ll drop you first, Maureen, and then you won’t be wasting time.”

Her voice registered quick protest. “Oh, Iain, I don’t mind about that. The papers I have to go through aren’t so important. Go straight on to Fountains and don’t turn in at Dainty’s End. I insist.”

Iain Sherrarde said nothing else and Ann leaned back wearily. Let them go on arguing. She just didn’t care. She had closed her eyes, but now she opened them as the car halted. She hadn’t realized they were so near Fountains.

And then Maureen raised her voice protestingly again. “Iain, I
told
you not to turn in here. I’ll come with you to Fountains. Miss Woods needs a woman to be with her. She seems quite exhausted.”

This belated concern for her welfare whipped Ann into sudden animation. “Nothing of the kind,” she declared. “I’m quite capable of walking through the copse and the garden.”

“Then why don’t you?” Doctor Lyntrope demanded, almost beside herself with annoyance.

“Maureen, look, I’ve parked the car right by your door. Now dash and you won’t get wet at all.” Sherrarde leaned across her with a murmured excuse, opened the door, and because there was little else left for her to do if she was to keep her dignity, Doctor Lyntrope “dashed.”

Sherrarde waited only until she had reached the door and then he set the car in motion and drove much too fast out of the drive and down the main road. But before he came to the gate which led to Fountains, he stopped the car, switched on the light and turned to look grimly at his passenger.

“Now then,” he said, “where have you been?”

Ann stared at him in astonishment. As if it could be any business of his, or of any interest. Hadn’t he shown her more than once since she came to Fountains that he regarded her merely as a person who was nursing Beverley and looking after two children who were his wards? His attitude had suggested that any other relationship between them was unthinkable. And yet now he was presuming to enquire into her private affairs.

“Mr. Sherrarde, I’ve already explained to you that I thought there was a late bus from Sunbury. When I found there wasn’t, I began to walk back.”

“You went in alone?”

Anne’s lavender grey eyes had widened and she clenched her hands. What did he suspect — or perhaps know — about her meeting with Ralph Gateworth? The man was the type to boast of his conquests, and those two research students had seen her in the Ring o’ Bells.

She said, with a touch of hysteria, “Mr. Sherrarde, you sound almost Victorian! I’m quite capable of going into Sunbury alone, and that’s what I did. Please don’t forget that I trained as a nurse in a London hospital and I’ve seen something of the world.”

Was he remembering that once he had called her “little lost girl” and held her closely when she had clung to him in bewilderment and terror?

“You’ve begun to remember your life in London? Or has someone reminded you? This male nurse, Gateworth — he knows you. Do you remember him?”

Once again, Ann’s voice rose to near-hysteria. “I’ve told you I remember nobody ... neither Beverley nor the children nor Mrs. Woods.”

His cold eyes seemed to bore into her face. “You don’t remember whether you were friendly with Gateworth or not, before you came down here?”

Ann raised her chin, and a note that Mrs. Woods would have recognized was in her voice. “Mr. Sherrarde, you have no right to ask me that, but since you do, I can tell you quite definitely that I’m
sure
I was never friendly with him.”

She was shivering, and though his face retained its thunderous expression, he said quickly, “You’re cold and wet. We’d better get to Fountains as quickly as we can.” He did not speak again until they came to the rainswept steps of the house. There was a light in the hall which Ann had left on when she came out, but all the other rooms at the front were in darkness.

He gave an exclamation of anger or irritation as he got out of the car, opened the door for her, and ran with her though the driving rain. In the hall, Ann turned to him. “Thank you for the lift,” she said simply, “Goodnight.”

“Is the water hot at this time of night?” he demanded. In Ann’s short experience she had learnt it was not. She shivered again. “I shall be all right,” she assured him.

By this time, he had his finger on a bell and was holding it there.

The door leading to the kitchen opened and Mrs. Marchdale’s thin figure was revealed. “Miss Woods is very wet,” Sherrarde said. “Will you see that her clothes are dried, that she has hot water for her bath, and something hot to drink when she is in bed?”

The look with which the old woman linked them made Ann shrink, but her voice was respectful. “Certainly, sir,” she murmured. “I’ll collect Miss Anne’s clothes for drying when I take up her tray. Will that be all sir?”

Ann shot her a quick, nervous glance. Such amiability didn’t ring true, when she remembered the woman’s hostility towards her. Fortunately Mr. Sherrarde seemed satisfied. “Get to bed as soon as you can,” he advised.

“Goodnight, Mr. Sherrarde, and ... thank you,” Ann said quietly.

“Don’t wait to see me out. Off you go,” he ordered. Ann went upstairs and in a few minutes she had stripped off her sodden clothes and shoes. The bath water was hot and she felt quite warm again by the time she returned to her room. To her surprise there was already a tray with hot milk and biscuits on the bedside table, and her wet clothes had been removed. Mr. Sherrarde’s word was certainly all-powerful, even at Fountains.

She half expected to be awake, but instead she fell asleep almost immediately and did not wake until her alarm clock told her it was time to get up.

Averil Pollard said jauntily, “Well, thank goodness for Mr. Sherrarde! It’s the third time this week that he’s taken Mrs. Derhart out in his car, isn’t it? And now the children too. Did you hear him say that they wouldn’t be back for tea? Good for him!”

Ann managed to swallow the constriction in her throat and make a sensible reply. But as she went slowly up the shallow, mushroom-carpeted stairs to her own room, she wondered why she stayed on at Fountains. She was utterly miserable, she told herself wildly, as she sat down on the one hard chair which the room possessed, and it wasn’t as if anyone really wanted her here.

Beverley certainly didn’t. For the past week, since that rainy night of Ann’s meeting with Ralph Gateworth at the Ring o’ Bells, her patient had shown a very different side to her character from the charming, rather kittenish and sometimes pathetic creature she had seemed earlier.

Most days now, she got up, at least in the afternoon, and sometimes in the morning, and drove out, more often than not in Iain Sherrarde’s car, with the Director of the Institute himself as her escort.

On that morning after Iain had brought Ann back to Fountains, when Ann had gone to her patient she had found Beverley sitting up in bed, her blue eyes narrowed to shining slits.

“Now, Sister Anne,” she had begun, directly the girl had walked into the bedroom, “let’s get the truth. What were you up to last night? Why did you arrive home all wet and bedraggled? Surely Iain hadn’t been rescuing you
again
! And if so, what from this time?”

Ann’s eyes widened in dismay at this outburst and the coarse, almost raucous tone of the other girl’s voice. In a way, she supposed she owed Beverley an explanation, since she was living in her house.

“I went into Sunbury,” she explained quietly, “and I made a mistake about the time of the last bus, so I had to walk, and on the way, Mr. Sherrarde and Doctor Lyntrope stopped to give me a lift.”

For a moment or two Beverley seemed mollified. “Oh,
she
was there too, was she?” she murmured, and then with a change back to her previous tone of accusation she went on. “But came here, didn’t he, fussing about your having hot water and hot milk and heaven knows what! March is furious. She isn’t here to wait on
you
.”

Ann stood rigid, her eyes proud. “I’m sorry about that, but it was no doing of mine.”

“Don’t put on that air of ‘touch me not,’” Beverley cried. “Who do you think you are? You’re not too proud to start using your wiles when there are any men around. I saw right from the beginning that you’d got something — you with your pale face and your big eyes and your little helpless-looking gestures. I thought I’d made it clear right from the beginning that Iain Sherrarde is
my
property. If you don’t keep away from him, I’ll make you regret it!”

Why hadn’t she turned then, Ann wondered, and walked out of Fountains, out of Beverley Derhart’s life ... out of Iain Sherrarde’s? The break might have been bitter, but at least she would have been spared all the humiliation that had been piled on her since.

The real answer to that question, Ann supposed, was that Beverley, having worked herself up into a passion, had then collapsed in a storm of weeping and nervous hysteria which left her a wreck for the rest of the morning.

When Doctor Butler called, she was rude to him and refused to consider his suggestion that she should get up and go for a drive by the sea, in the sunshine. Robert Leedon arrived while he was still there, and Beverley immediately turned on her face, buried her head in the pillows and refused to speak to either of them.

But when, after lunch, Iain appeared and asked her if she would like a run to the sea, she was immediately all smiles and eager compliance.

Ann was ashamed of the unworthiness of her own feelings. Beverley was still an invalid, and the drive in the fresh air would do her a world of good. It was small-minded of her to feel so miserably jealous. She could have borne it better if Iain had been pleasant to her. But he had coupled his icy “Good afternoon” with one glance equally freezing and had not looked at her again.

In the hall, Mrs. Woods, also dressed for going out, was just taking a last glance at herself in a long mirror. Ann was determined now to speak about Gateworth. Mrs. Woods listened with ill-disguised impatience.

“A boy friend of Anne’s? Ridiculous! I don’t believe a word of it. She has never had the slightest intention of coming down here, so why should she persuade this man to get a post nearby? Gateworth has obviously heard rumors about your loss of memory and used them to make your acquaintance. You should have frozen him off immediately. But perhaps you didn’t want to do that!”

Ann swallowed her annoyance. “But I think—” she began.

Mrs. Woods swept her remark aside. “Don’t think
I
mind your getting acquainted. Naturally at your age you want a boy friend, and to have a good time. Why not?”

The girl’s face went very cold. Mrs. Woods’ patronizing little sneer seemed to put her on a level with Ralph Gateworth and separate her by a long, long distance from Iain Sherrarde.

Mrs. Woods went on. “Just a word of warning, Ann. Don’t go around upsetting people as you have been doing.”

Ann’s eyes grew wide. Whom had she upset? Marchdale? Beverley, Mrs. Woods herself, Iain?

“I don’t understand,” she said directly.

Mrs. Woods gave her a peculiar look. “Don’t you? Well, perhaps you do and perhaps you don’t. Now let’s drop the matter.”

On an afternoon a day or two later, Nurse Elliott cycled over to see her former patient and Ann walked through the woodland path to meet her at the gate. Beverley had gone out that afternoon with Robert Leedon and Miss Pollard had taken the children for their riding lesson.

Megan almost fell off her cycle in excitement when she saw Ann walking down the road to meet her. “Darling Ann, I have missed you!” she exclaimed. “You were by far our nicest patient. Do you remember anything yet?”

Ann shook her head. “You know, I’m living so much in the present that I haven’t time to think of the past.”

“Well, come to that,” Megan admitted candidly, “it’s the present that counts. But, darling, what’s this I hear about a boy friend?”

“Oh!” Ann’s lips opened slightly and a faint color crept under her clear skin. The fact that she was so much attracted to Iain Sherrarde was always so near the surface of her mind that she thought of no one else when Megan made her sly remark, and added, “Don’t become too serious, though. After all, when your memory comes back, you...”

Ann’s reply was spontaneous. “The return of my memory won’t make any difference. This is more important to me than anything that has ever happened before.”

Megan stared at her incredulously. “Ann! But ...” The other girl took a grip on herself. She must be going mad, she thought, aghast. She began to laugh. “Tell me all about the private wing, Megan. How is Sister? I met your Doctor Whitely, by the way, at a party my ... er ... Beverley gave.”

Megan took the hint to change the subject, though she still looked rather shaken. “Yes, Frank told me. Whatever made you and your mother allow it? I mean such a big party, with all the excitement?”

“Allow it!” Ann gave a laugh. “It took place only the day after I left hospital. And if you knew Beverley ... Oh, never mind.”

Megan respected her reticence on that subject too. She knew a good deal more about Beverley and her doings than she would reveal to Ann. For Frank Whitely and the rest of the medical staff, Mrs. Derhart provided endless scope for gossip and speculation.

“You’ll be coming to hospital soon, for a check-up, won’t you?” she asked. “When is your appointment?”

“Next Wednesday.” Ann’s face was thoughtful. “I don’t know what Doctor Lievers will say. I haven’t remembered a single thing. There just hasn’t been time to think...”

Except about the present ... except about the future ... But she did not say that to Megan.

All too soon, it seemed, her friend was glancing at her watch. “Sorry, Ann, I shan’t be able to stay to tea. Frank is getting away early and we’re going dancing.”

As they came out of Fountains into the spring sunshine, she looked around. “It’s nice, if you don’t mind being buried in the depths of the country. Personally, I find Sunbury too quiet, especially when the season is over. When I’ve finished my training...”

“When you’ve finished your training, or even before that, you’ll be getting married...” Ann finished for her.

Megan looked thoughtful. “I’m not so sure. Doctors and nurses often get on well together during their training and then when marriage seems in sight, something happens...”