Nurse Ann Wood (14 page)

A quick prick of memory came and went through Ann’s brain. It had gone, before she could capture it. But it
had
been like that with someone she knew, she felt sure.

Having followed the woodland path, they now began to stroll down the main road. As they approached the entrance to Dainty’s End, Megan stared at it curiously.

“I hear Doctor Lyntrope is living there now. She has a job in the Health Department. At first she was in lodgings in Sunbury.”

“Oh, so that’s what she does. I wondered.”

Perhaps Megan heard something guarded in Ann’s voice, for her eyes began to dance. “So you don’t like her either!”

“I didn’t say so. Do you know her?”

The other shook her head. “I know she has auburn hair and is a man-chaser. Sometimes Frank tries to make me jealous, but as I tell him, he doesn’t stand an earthly with the Director in competition. Oh, there he is.”

They had almost reached the big main gates of the Institute. Frank Whitely was standing talking to a tall man, whose back was turned to them. Megan waved to the young man, who in turn raised his hand. The tall man swung round.

Ann stopped abruptly. “I’ll say goodbye now, Megan. Look out for me next week when I come to hospital.”

“Don’t rush off without having a word with Frank,” Megan protested. “That’s Mr. Sherrarde talking to him.”

“So it is,” murmured Ann in a voice that was elaborately casual.

Sherrarde had seen them, but he now turned back to the junior doctor, and after a few more words, went into the Institute building without looking again at the two girls.

Ann managed to talk normally to Frank Whitely, answering his enquiries about her own health and Beverley’s, but as quickly as she could, she disengaged herself and began to walk back slowly.

It was stupid to feel like this every time she received a snub from him — as if the end of the world had come. He probably hadn’t even meant to snub her. He might not have noticed who was approaching, even though he seemed to turn round to look. He might have had an appointment, or urgent work that needed his immediate attention. There could be many reasons why he had not waited to greet anyone of as little importance to him as herself. What she had got to realize, she told herself, as she had done so many times before, was that she had been entirely mistaken about their first meeting. For her, it had been momentous, but for him it had been just ... an incident ... a rather unimportant incident.

CHAPTER TEN

ONCE again Ann was walking through the woodland path, this time to take the bus into Sunbury. Mrs. Woods was using one car, and though both she and Beverley knew that it was the day when Ann was going to the hospital, neither had suggested that Burrows should drive her there in the other car.

It wasn’t a very pleasant day. There was a hint of rain and a keen east wind that tore at Ann’s rather thin coat. What had happened to the remainder of her clothes? she wondered. Well, she might get to know soon, for she had come to a decision that when she saw the doctor this afternoon, she would tell him that there seemed to be no progress so far as the return of her memory was concerned, and that accordingly she would like him to arrange for her to go back to Queen Frida’s. Even if there was something serious that she must face there it would be preferable to going on living at Fountains.

She turned her slender shoulder to the wind, wishing the bus would come. She didn’t like standing so near to the Institute entrance which was where the bus stop was. Anyone might come out. Iain Sherrarde ... Ralph Gateworth. She shivered. Gateworth had written to her two or three times, and rung her up as often, trying to make dates with her, but she had actually seen nothing of him, for on the one occasion he had called at Fountains, she had been in her room and refused to go down.

How cold it was! She wished the bus would come. She was sure it was already overdue and she began to wonder nervously whether it was one which, once again, ran on Saturdays only.

She did not turn when she heard a car, but when it stopped beside her she glanced round.

Iain Sherrarde said, from a thin mouth, set in a pale, furious face, “Get in the car, please.”

Afterwards, Ann was to ask herself angrily why she had obeyed so meekly. But at the time she just didn’t think at all. Her heart was beating furiously, and excitement at seeing him colored her face like a rose.

As she sat down he leaned forward, closed the door and drove on. Ann took one look at his face and then stared ahead of her, her eyes troubled. Of course, she did see him quite often, for he came to visit Beverley and the children at Fountains, and called for them when he took them out in his car, but it was seldom that he exchanged more than a brief cool greeting with her. It just seemed as if he hadn’t any time for her at all since that night he had taken her, soaked almost to the skin, back to Fountains.

She was thinking of that occasion — wondering whether he had found out that she had been with Gateworth, wondering how she could make him understand. But how could she talk to a man who had an expression so cold and implacable?

The fact that he thought she was Anne Woods didn’t help matters either— Anne Woods who...

Miserably she recalled that yesterday Averil Pollard, who had been out with Beverley and the children in the afternoon in Mr. Sherrarde’s car, had said facetiously when she returned,

“Your sister was giving Mr. Sherrarde the gen on your matrimonial intentions. I couldn’t help overhearing. She has such a penetrating voice.”

“My matrimonial intentions!” Ann’s voice had faltered.

“Yes, the fact that you had chosen nursing simply with the idea of meeting a rich patient — the more elderly the better — and marrying him.”

Was
he
too remembering that revelation as he sat glowering ahead of him? From his grim expression it was obvious that his thoughts were not very pleasant.

Even so, she was taken completely by surprise when he said, through almost clenched teeth, “Have you no pride at all — no sense of fitness? Hanging about outside the Institute, waiting for that fellow?”

As he spoke, he drew in at the side of the road. Ann stared back at him with a look of outrage. Did he deliberately try to put the worst construction on her every action?

Was there no end to the ways he chose of misunderstanding whatever she did? Just one small, courteous question would have elicited from her the information that she was going to a hospital appointment, but he hadn’t thought fit to ask it. He preferred to think of her as cheap, scheming and man-chasing.

In the next few minutes, Iain Sherrarde delivered himself of a good deal that had evidently been simmering in his mind for some time. Burrows came into it, and Gateworth, and the despicable reason that had lain at the back of her choice of nursing as a career.

Ann’s face was ashen and there was something cold and dead inside her where her heart should have been. Anne Woods might be all the things he had said, but if he had had one spark of understanding, one spark of feeling for her herself, he would have known that these things couldn’t be true of
her.
She fumbled blindly with the catch of the door.

“I’ll walk to the next bus stop, Mr. Sherrarde.”

He jerked her hand away from the door. “I refuse to allow you to go back to wait for that fellow,” he said with a dark, bitter look. “Have you no pride?”

Ann’s lavender grey eyes 'were very wide. “And how are you going to prevent my doing so?” she challenged, the pride of which he had accused her of lacking flaming on her face and edging every word she spoke.

He pulled the starter. “Like this,” he said briefly, and stepped on the accelerator.

Ann sat father limply in her corner, her face all at once small and pinched. It was as if a cold wind had blown upon some delicate blossom, blighting it before it could come to flower.

As they came into Sunbury, he said, “Where may I drop you?”

“Somewhere near the hospital.”

“The hospital!” His face changed and his voice sharpened. “Why, Ann ... are you ill? Worse, I mean?” Her expression kept him at a fair distance.

“I have an appointment to see Doctor Lievers. It was made before I left the hospital.”

Sherrarde’s car swung towards the front of the main block, but Ann made to stop him. “Will you please put me down here and I’ll go in at this side entrance,” she said. “Nurse Elliott brought me a message from Sister to say that I’m not to wait in the out-patients’ department. Doctor Lievers is going to see me in the private wing.”

He stopped the car and opened the door for her to get out. “How are you getting back to Fountains?”

Ann raised her small chin. She was about to tell him the truth — that she would be going back by bus. And then something primitive in her that she had not known was there made her lips curve.

“I expect I shall go back on the pillion of Ralph’s motorcycle,” she smiled. “He will guess that I thumbed a lift in to Sunbury and he will be waiting for me when I’ve finished at the hospital.”

An iceberg could not have looked colder than Iain Sherrarde did then. He slammed the door of the car and drove off without a word of farewell.

Ann watched him go, wondering how she was going to present a bright, unworried face in the private wing. No one must guess how miserable she felt, how shaken and how humiliated. On her way up, she went into a cloakroom and put more color on her lips. Sister might be so occupied in disapproving of her too heavily painted mouth that she would not make any remarks about her wan face or notice that her eyes were so heavy.

She would never forgive Iain Sherrarde for all that he had said to her this afternoon. She wouldn’t stay at Fountains a day longer than she need. If Doctor Lievers suggested that she stay in hospital this afternoon, she would do so.

She found Megan in the kitchen at the end of the corridor. “Why, Ann darling,” the young nurse said brightly. “How are you keeping?” She cast a quick glance at her friend. “You look fine.”

“I
am
fine,” replied Ann stoutly, and told herself that the pain in her heart was purely imaginary. It couldn’t possibly be a real one. Hearts didn’t break into pieces in the way hers felt as if it was doing.

“Sister is in her room. You’d better see her right away, pet. I don’t know whether Lievers is up here yet. He’s going to see you in Sister’s room in his tea break. That’s the sort of V.I.P. treatment you’re getting!”

“Then I’d better not keep him waiting,” Ann replied, and then forcing herself into sociability, she asked, “Did you have a good time on Tuesday?”

“Marvellous,” Megan replied smilingly. “Been doing anything much yourself?”

“Not much.”

“But of course, he’s been away, hasn’t he?” Megan was watching the milk she was heating on the stove very fixedly. After all, it was practically on the boil.

Ann stood very still. She had forgotten that Megan had guessed her pathetic little secret.

“Oh, they all come and go,” she said airily.

Megan raised a face that was all at once bright. “I’m glad to hear you say that, pet! Frank and I were terribly afraid that you might get yourself seriously involved just because you were bored and lonely.”

Ann’s smile was puzzled. “Really? But, Megan, I must go.”

She hurried away, swallowing quickly and trying to keep composed.

She knocked at the door and at the same time heard two voices. So Doctor Lievers was already here. Probably she would now be spared any of Sister’s remarks.

The doctor rose as she entered, smiled at her and told her she was looking very well. After they were seated, he began to chat, at the same time studying the file which Sister had passed over to him.

He seemed pleased when Ann told him that life was so full she never had time to ponder on the past. “That’s all to the good,” he assured her. “I rather think now that the memory of your past life will come back to you quite gradually — odd facts here and there till you’ll find that everything has suddenly grown quite clear.”

“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.”