Nurse Ann Wood (17 page)

“You were divorced?” she asked.

Again Beverley laughed. “Yes, very unwillingly on Lee’s part, but I wanted to marry Des Ranbury because I thought he would make me a television star. He didn’t, but that’s another story...”

“And then you met Mr. Leedon again down here, after all those years?”

Beverley looked ironical. “No, it wasn’t that sort of fairy tale. Lee was always somewhere in the background, and then after the accident he got himself a job down here. Pulled all sorts of wires to get into the Institute, much to Iain’s annoyance. He’d got some up-and-coming young man of his own whom he wanted to see appointed. He and Lee hate each other, but that isn’t the only reason,” and she preened complacently.

Ann thought dully, she’s so lovely. Can one wonder that men — even a man like Iain — are mad about her? She thought of Maureen Lyntrope, with her imperious voice and her handsome face, and wondered whether
she
knew that Iain was in love with Beverley.

The other girl went on now, idly, “Mummy said she’d got you a dress of turquoise blue. Quite pretty, but not exactly startling.”

You could usually be sure of getting the truth from Beverley, particularly the unpalatable truth. She was like Emma in that respect.

Ann said, “Yes, it’s quite pretty.”

“Put it on. Let’s have a dress parade.” It was just as her own small daughter might have spoken.

“My dress hasn’t come yet,” replied Ann thankfully. “It had to be altered slightly and I suppose they’ve had lots to do. Matron’s Ball seems quite an event in Sunbury.”

“Yes, it is. All the medical big-wigs who have any connection with the Institute seem to make it an excuse for meeting and bringing down parties from London. About your dress. If I were you I should be getting all het up in case it didn’t come in time. Why don’t you ring up?”

Ann said, “I will this afternoon. If they are too busy to send it, I can call in later on and bring it back myself.”

Actually, she could feel no enthusiasm for the dress, pretty though it was. Beverley had summed it up so well. She should never have tried on that white dress, and then perhaps the turquoise blue would have seemed more appealing.

She had scarcely a moment for herself the rest of the day and it was with dismay that she realized that it was past closing time in Sunbury and she had not yet rung up. Perhaps there’d be someone still at the shop. She must ring up and see.

It was Mrs. Ford herself who replied. Yes, the dress would be delivered without fail tomorrow morning. And then before she rang off the woman said something which rather surprised Ann.

“I hope you have a wonderful time. You ought to be a wild success in that dress.”

Ann’s eyelashes fluttered. She wasn’t anticipating having an exciting time. How could she, dancing attendance on Beverley, who would surely outshine everybody else?

In any case, she was rather surprised by the remark. Mrs. Ford hadn’t struck her as the sort of woman who would indulge in false compliments, and pretty as that turquoise dress was, it just couldn’t be described as out of the ordinary.

All the excitement of the past few days had been bad for the children and they woke up on the morning of the Ball evidently quite determined to have fun, since that apparently was what their elders were going to have later in the day.

Miss Pollard had to send for Ann even before breakfast to help to settle them. She had a bad cold, and Ann would have liked to send her to bed, but Beverley was in a demanding mood and she had to hurry from the nursery.

“I shall rest all the afternoon,” Beverley remarked. “I’ve promised Iain that I’ll do so.”

Robert Leedon’s arrival freed Ann a little while. Even he seemed to be a prey to the universal excitement, she noticed. His normally pale face had a trace of color and his eyes were eager.

In the nursery, there was further trouble. “They’re being demons just on purpose,” Averil Pollard wailed. “They know I’m not up to scratch and you’re busy. By the way, your frock has come, so that’s one worry less for you. I heard Mrs. Woods tell Alice to take it out of the box and hang it up in your bedroom.”

Ann heaved a little sigh. She had never felt less like going to a party.

Emma asked curiously, “Who bought you the dress, Auntie Anne? Did Uncle Iain?”

“Of course not,” put in Miss Pollard reprovingly. “Why should
he
buy your aunt a dress?”

“Well, he looked at Auntie Anne in a funny way when I told him she hadn’t a dress ... as if he would like to buy her one.”

“Sheer imagination, infant,” put in Ann briskly before Averil could say anything. “And now I must go to find Nana to see if she wants me for anything. Behave yourselves.”

Miss Pollard followed her to the door. “I rather think your mother has gone out,” she whispered. “You’re not related in any way to those people in that air disaster in America, are you?”

Ann stared at her. “I’m sorry. I’m not with you, I’m afraid.”

“In the morning paper,” Miss Pollard began, and Ann shook her head. “I haven’t even glanced at the headlines. An air crash, you say? Beverley said nothing about it What happened?”

“Oh, there was an English family. Foxenlake, or some such name ... yes, Sir Henry Foxenlake and his wife and four sons ... all killed. I thought your mother was staring at the headlines as if she was terribly shocked, and I just wondered...”

Ann shook her head, and said truthfully: “I’ve never heard the name before. She was probably thinking of something else.”

The, day wore on, and in the afternoon again she was in the nursery to quell open rebellion, with paint bespattering the nursery floor.

“We want to look at your dress and Miss Pollard won’t let us,” Emma explained blandly.

“I’ve told them that they must get that paint cleared up before they go out of this room,” Averil Pollard said shrilly. She had said it several times already without any result.

Emma continued to look rebellious, though she had sufficient sense, now Ann was here, not to go on saying, “Shan’t, shan’t, shan’t,” as she had been doing at intervals for the past quarter of an hour.

Ann waited for a minute or two. She did not really like to be brought in to exert her authority, but it was obvious that Averil, her cold in no way improved, was almost at the end of her tether.

Nobody moved or spoke. Guy was watching the little group out of the corner of his eye, ready to start something if Emma gave the signal. Averil turned to Ann with a gesture of despair, and Ann knew it was her turn to speak.

“Emma, hurry up and do as you’re told,” she ordered crisply.

Emma said, with an aplomb and insolence that was worthy of her mother, “What have I been told?”

It would have been fatal to repeat anything that Averil had said. Ann remained silent and stared very hard at the little girl. There was a silent battle of wills, but at length very slowly Emma got up and began to wipe up the paint.

“I’m doing it because I want to,” she told Guy defiantly.

“I want to do it as well,” he yelled, and snatching up another piece of rag, he began to help. This was what Emma had angled for, and her own efforts began to flag.

“Could I go and look at your dress while Guy finishes this?” she enquired.

Ann shook her head, and Emma, with an angry glare, returned to the task of cleaning up.

“Now both of you can wash,” Ann decided, looking at their paint-streaked faces and hands. By now it was time for tea, with an interlude to look at Mrs. Smuts’ kittens. This gave Averil a short space to lie on her bed, with a cold compress over her eyes.

By the time tea was over, Ann herself was beginning to think that she too would rather be going to bed than preparing for a ball.

Mrs. Woods came into the nursery just as Ann was leaving, Miss Pollard having taken over once again.

“Beverley wants you to help her to get ready before you start doing so yourself,” she announced. “I’m going up now as I can’t bear to be in a rush.”

She kissed the children, asked if they had been good all day, and wisely didn’t wait for a reply.

“Can’t we see your dress just before you go to help Mummy? We’ll promise to be good till we go to bed, then,” Emma pleaded.

“Could we all see it?” Averil asked, for a minute or two her cold forgotten.

“Come along, then,” said Ann lightly. Perhaps they’d like the turquoise dress more than she did — ungrateful creature that she was.

So they all trooped along to her room and with wide admiring eyes gazed at the lovely dress hanging at the side of the wardrobe. On the carpet stood the shoes dyed gold to match the gold satin of the cuff and the shoulder-straps, and on the dressing-table were the long gold gloves.

It was Emma who broke the silence — Emma in a strangely reverent mood. “Auntie Anne, it’s lovely,” she breathed. “Simply lovely!”

“Oh, it is,” Averil agreed. “Why, Miss Woods, it’s marvellous. Oh, I must see you when you’re ready.”

“And us,” pronounced Emma emphatically. “We won’t go to sleep till we’ve seen her, will we, Guy?”

“Won’t go to sleep,” the little boy repeated. “Won’t go to sleep till we’ve seen Auntie Anne.”

“All right,” promised Ann hastily, staring in dismay at the white dress. She wanted to get them out of her room so that she could think what to do next. It was too late to ring up the dress shop and ask to whom the white dress should have been delivered. For obviously the messenger had confused the two boxes...

No, that wasn’t the explanation, for she picked up the grey and pink striped box and saw her name clearly written on the label.

But why hadn’t someone phoned earlier about the mistake? The turquoise dress surely had been unpacked when it arrived and the mistake found out immediately?

But it was no good standing her pondering on all sorts of explanations. She had better ask Mrs. Woods what was to be done. But her bathroom door was tightly closed and Ann’s knocking produced no results.

In the end, Ann rushed off to Beverley, who viewed her with an angry frown. “I wanted you here earlier,” she snapped. “I’ve had my bath and I’ve been ready for my massage for ages.”

“Sorry, Beverley,” Ann gulped, “but honestly, I’ve not had a moment. And now—”

“Don’t talk. I won’t hear a word till you’ve massaged me,” the other girl said explosively, and threw herself down on the day bed.

Ann set to work, respecting her patient’s desire for silence, her own thoughts chaotic. What on earth was she going to do about that dress?

In spite of all her efforts to be sensible, she was bubbling with excitement. That lovely, lovely dress, which from the first moment of trying on she had known was hers. It seemed as if she had been destined to see it once again.

All the time she was in Beverley’s room, she was expecting someone to come rushing in to say that a messenger had arrived to take the dress to its rightful owner. She took a quick look at the clock. If she didn’t begin to get ready soon, she wouldn’t be in time to go with the others to the dance.

All at once Beverley realized the same thing.

“Ann, you’ll have to hurry,” she said, wriggling from the couch. Now that her annoyance had subsided, Ann realized, the girl was in a state of suppressed excitement and tension which the massage had not relieved.

“Beverley,” Ann said warningly, “you must take things more calmly. You over-excited already.”

The other rushed to the mirror, towels thrown carelessly around her. “Yes, I suppose I am. Something wonderful has happened. Something ... Oh, for goodness’ sake, run along, girl, and get ready! I feel like a fairy godmother!”

Light dawned on Ann. So that was the explanation! Oh, how kind of Beverley. “Oh, so that’s the explanation. How marvellous,” she began.

Beverley was already scrambling into her underclothes. “Run along, Ann, and hurry ... hurry...”

Ann lingered. “But surely you want me to help you with your hair?”

“No, I’ll manage. Hurry, there’s a good girl.” She was all but pushing Ann out of the room.

Ann’s voice was faltering. “Oh, Beverley, my dress...”

“For goodness’ sake stop worrying about your dress, darling. It will look lovely, I’m sure. But I shan’t think you look lovely if you keep me waiting.”

She shut the door decisively, with Ann on the other side. Her tiredness forgotten and suddenly feeling crazily elated, Ann ran up to her own room. That dress had been meant for her, right from the beginning. With miraculous speed and deftness, her bath, make-up, and hair were accomplished. And now the dress. It fitted her as if it had been made for her. No imagination about that. It really did.

She slid her feet into the gold shoes and picked up the gloves. It would be nice if she’d had a fur wrap, but she hadn’t, so her coat would have to serve.

Was there time to go into the nursery? Mrs. Woods’ door hadn’t opened yet, and she had promised to go and see both Averil and the children. So she slipped along the corridor to the other wing and was rewarded with rapturous sighs from the governess amid her sneezes.

The children were sitting up in bed, waiting to see her. “You’re not really our Auntie Anne, but you’re much, much nicer and prettier, and that’s what I told Uncle Iain,” Emma remarked exuberantly.

Ann looked startled. “Emma darling!” she protested.

The little girl began to say something about the dress, but her voice was almost immediately drowned by Guy’s shrieks of: “She
is
Aunt Anne. She
is,
she is! She’s
my
Auntie Anne, Emma Derhart.”

That started a quarrel, and in the ensuing battle Ann slipped away. It was too bad leaving Averil to settle it, but she was sure Mrs. Woods would be ready by now.

She was, and fuming because Ann had not been in sight when she had finally emerged from her bedroom. Ann had already put her coat around her shoulders, and Mrs. Woods betrayed no interest in her dress or her appearance, though presumably she too had been a party to the substitution of the white dress for the one she had originally chosen.

Ann found that she was unable to get in a word of thanks amid the torrent of grumbles, but tonight neither Mrs. Woods’ lack of interest nor her complaints could quell Ann’s excitement and anticipation. Nothing mattered except that moment when she would take off her coat and walk into the ballroom in this lovely dress. Or would Iain wait to collect his party in the vestibule?

The car, it seemed, was waiting, and Beverley had already been collected. “I really need the whole back seat to spread out my dress,” she said. “We should have arranged for Burrows to drive you in, Mummy, and Ann.”

“I said you’d be better in front with me, Beverley,” the driver remarked now, and Ann saw that Robert Leedon was to be their escort. Well, she had not really expected to see Iain. Naturally, he would be taking his aunt and Doctor Lyntrope.

“Mrs. Woods’ figure tensed. “Oh, it’s you, Lee. I — well, somehow I didn’t think you’d be going tonight after — what has happened.”

He shrugged. “I scarcely knew my cousin or his family, you know. There’s no sense of personal loss, and my staying away from the Ball wouldn’t bring them back to life.” Ann’s mind immediately connected this remark with Miss Pollard’s reference to the tragic air disaster in America. In view of the fact that Beverley and Robert Leedon had once been married, it might be that Mrs. Woods
had
known the victims who appeared to be related to the Assistant Director of the Institute.

Beverley decided to go to the front of the car, and Mrs. Woods and Ann seated themselves at the back. As soon as they had started, the older woman said in a whisper: “Beverley is remarkably well, despite all the excitement, so you needn’t hang around her, Ann.”

Ann had been on the verge of making a little speech of thanks for the dress, but now her expression changed.

When there was no immediate reply, Mrs. Woods went on, “You know you were included in Mr. Sherrarde’s party only as a matter of courtesy to Beverley and myself. There’s not the slightest reason why you should stay with us, and indeed, Beverley and I would prefer you not to. Naturally, you’ll want to dance a good deal with— people of your own sort. I mean, especially that male nurse you’re so friendly with. I expect he will see you home, so we shan’t expect you to come back with us.”

Ann was sure that Mrs. Woods knew that Ralph Gateworth had been dismissed and had probably by now terminated his period of notice. It was merely that neither she nor Beverley wanted her among their friends. Yet they had given her this lovely dress!

There was a lump in her throat as she said in a small voice, “That man is not and never was my friend. I should certainly not dance with him or allow him to take me home.”

Mrs. Woods shrugged. “Oh, my mistake. I merely thought it would be more tactful for everybody concerned.”

After that, Ann couldn’t find words to say anything at all, and certainly not to make a gracious little speech about her dress.

When the car drew up outside the Imperial Hotel where the Ball was being held, Robert Leedon said, “I shall have to park somewhere else, so perhaps you three will go in. You know where we’re meeting Sherrarde, don’t you — the Goldfish cocktail lounge.”

Beverley and Mrs. Woods, who were both on the side of the steps, got out and walked into the hotel, neither of them showing any interest in Ann. She shrugged her coat away and left it in the car, and then, standing on the steps, she shook out the wide skirt of her dress. As she raised her head, she caught Lee’s look of surprised appreciation.

She smiled, and then followed Mrs. Woods and Beverley, her heart beating fast. The Matron’s Ball ... and again there came quick stabbing pinpricks of memory ... of another Matron’s Ball ... of another evening of eager anticipation ... And then the fleeting memories had gone, as if they had never been.