Nurse Ann Wood (19 page)

At home, everything had been so much worse than she had expected. Mummy had been terribly ill and wanted Ann with her all the time, day and night. Ann’s stepfather had been of little help. He was a wealthy and very successful farmer and his excuse for being out all the time was “business.” Not that Ann had any desire for his assistance. She had disliked him when she had first met him two years previously, and poor Mummy had evidently lived to regret most bitterly her second marriage.

The end had come at last, and feeling drained of all emotion, numb and incredibly weary after weeks of day and night nursing, Ann had packed her clothes and returned to London.

Back in hospital, the normal routine was set in motion. Michael was on duty and she was unable to contact him. She had hoped he would be at the station to meet her, but he evidently hadn’t been able to make it...

A couple of hours later, Ann was walking rather aimlessly down the corridor away from the office of the Nurses’ M.O. He had just told her to go back home to Cumberland for another month. She was, he said, on the verge of a breakdown, and needed a complete rest. She must not dream of resuming her duties until she had had this, and four weeks would be a minimum.

The M.O. had assumed that there would still be a home for her in Cumberland despite her mother’s death, and Ann did not trouble to undeceive him. She would see Michael and he would arrange everything for her.

And now she was going up in the lift, with another nurse standing beside her. Jean Comprerse had been in her set in the Preliminary Training School, but Ann had never known her well and they scarcely exchanged a word on their way up. Jean was carrying some specimens and vouchsafed the information that she was going to the pathology lab.

Once out of the lift, Ann would have preferred to hang back and let the other nurse get on with her business, but Comprerse suddenly took it in her head to be talkative.

“I expect you’re going along to see Doctor Lenforth, are you? By the way, you
are
still engaged to him, I suppose?” And she peered with inquisitive eyes at Ann’s slim left hand with its ring of sapphire and diamonds.

Ann merely smiled. It was such a pointless question — not worthy of a reply. The pathology department seemed to be an endless corridor of doors, some open, some closed. The one halfway along outside which Ann paused was just slightly ajar. Michael was there, behind it, his smooth, fair head bent over Lisa Nuttall’s fuzzy blonde curls. In gay abandon she had thrown away her cap. It lay on the green-tiled floor near Ann’s feet, like a big white butterfly that had alighted in a grassy meadow.

Ann found that she was a long way further down that corridor, and that Jean Comprerse, malice in her pale eyes, was saying, “Now do you see why I asked whether you were still engaged? It’s been going on for so long, almost all the year, and long before you went on compassionate leave.”

Ann did not speak. Her lavender grey eyes were wide and staring.

She was back in the nurses’ home now. Someone whom she scarcely knew said, “There’s a letter for you, Nurse Wood. It’s been here for ages. I can’t think why it wasn’t sent to you.”

She slit it open, not even glancing at the writing on the envelope. It was from an address near Sunbury, and it implored someone addressed as “Anne” to go there to keep an eye on Beverley and take charge of the children.

Ann thought apathetically: They’ve muddled us up again. This is for that fourth-year nurse in men’s surgical. How stupid! Our names aren’t really the same. She’s Anne Woods and I’m Ann Wood.

She thrust the letter into her handbag. She would have to enclose it in another envelope, with an explanation.

She picked up her two suitcases from the porter’s lodge, glad that the porter was out somewhere so that there was no need to counter his inquisitive enquiries. She walked slowly down the steps and stood waiting for a taxi.

Ann wondered whether she had been asleep. She was sitting on a hard chair, her head leaning forward and resting on a cupboard door. A cheerful voice said, “So you’re still here, dearie. You must have been feeling bad!”

Ann stood up. She felt weak and giddy, and as if a whole lifetime had elapsed since she had spoken to the woman earlier in the evening.

“Is the Ball over?” she asked.

“As good as,” was the reply, accompanied by a big yawn. “Are you here alone, miss? If not, surely your friends...”

“I came in a party, but I expect they all think I’ve gone home,” Ann explained quickly. “Thank you for letting me rest here. I’m all right now.”

As she walked along the corridor she thought: They will all have gone. They were going to leave early. Iain...

But she found she couldn’t think of Iain Sherrarde.

There were very few people about now, though the strains of the band drifted up to her as she went down the stairs.

She wondered about asking for a taxi, and then remembered she hadn’t sufficient money to pay for one. Her coat? That was at the back of Robert Leedon’s car.

Ann thought: What am I going to do? But it was the future which was in her mind, not her immediate plight — a future which seemed to stretch ahead, dark and cheerless ... When she returned to London she would never see Iain again.

And then he was there, his face cold and dark and furious.

“Where have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been looking for you for hours.”

“I ... I ...” Her face took on an oddly blank look. Where
had
she been? All she remembered was that Ralph Gateworth, with a horrible smirk, had confronted her with Michael, and Iain, with an expression of ice, had excused himself. He didn’t have much faith in her, it would seem, despite the fact that he had held her in his arms, and kissed her like a lover.

“You haven’t been with either of them,” he said violently. “I know that, for they’ve seldom been out of my sight. What other poor fool have you been with all this time, and why didn’t he see you home?”

Ann shook her cloudy dark head. She felt that she couldn’t struggle or fight any longer.

“Where is your coat?” he asked harshly now.

“It’s in Mr. Leedon’s car.”

His face went even darker. “So you’ve been with him! He’s the latest! Of all the despicable people I’ve ever met you’re far and away the worst. Women like you turn men into beasts. You’re...”

“Sherrarde, I used to admire you as a man and as a doctor, but I’m beginning to realize now that not only are you a fool but also a brute.” The tone was so gentle that Ann could scarcely believe the impact of those trenchant, searing words.

She looked at Doctor Lievers, her face forlorn. “I — I’ve remembered,” she murmured.

“All right, child. I guessed you had, earlier on, but I held back, waiting to give this ... this
fool
his innings! But not this sort of innings.”

He turned to Sherrarde, whose expression was bewildered at the unexpected intervention and attack. “Get your car round here as quickly as you can ... and some rugs. She’s going back into hospital immediately. You’ve been shouting to high heaven that you despise her, but presumably even you don’t want to kill her.”

“Kill her?” repeated Sherrarde, and his eyes went to Ann in a fashion that made Lievers nod.

“Hurry with that car,” he ordered. “Sit down here, Miss Wood — for it is Wood, not Woods, isn’t it?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“THEN Doctor Lievers had begun to think that I wasn’t Anne Woods,” Ann said, sitting up in bed, her eyes very wide.

“Megan, I feel an awful fraud, being here in bed again and you waiting on me. I’m not really ill, you know.”

“Doctor Lievers thinks you need a rest, having been made a slave by those awful people, when you should really have been convalescing.” Megan Elliott put down the tray on which Ann’s lunch had been set and smiled at her patient. She had never been able to understand why anyone as nice as Ann could have a mother like Mrs. Woods and a sister like Beverley Derhart. Now, it seemed, they were not related to her at all.

“Come along and eat your lunch, darling. It looks very nice.”

“Don’t try to change the subject, Megan,” Ann said, with a laugh. “I want to talk.”

Megan shook her head. She had said too much already by referring to Ann’s stay at Fountains. “Sorry, Ann, but Sister has given me strict instructions that you’re not to talk. You need to be quiet and to rest.”

“I’m ... well, perhaps she’s right.” Ann suddenly looked forlorn. What did it matter, after all? Nothing really mattered now.

“Now don’t look like that. I’ve got a surprise for you — a pleasant one.”

For a few seconds, Ann’s mouth was ardent, her eyes eager. Then indifference crept in as Megan went on, “Two of your friends are coming down to see you at the weekend. Two nurses from Queen Frida’s.”

Ann turned her head away. She wondered how soon the doctors would say she was well enough to return to London and resume her training.

Would she mind going back to Queen Frida’s? Could she bear to be under the same roof, or roofs rather, vast though they were, as Michael?

Ann’s lips curved in a smile that was unconsciously wistful. In a way, it might have been easier if it
had
mattered. But the simple truth was that it didn’t. She had never really known what love was, until she had come here, and meeting Michael again on the night of Matron’s Ball, after the first shock, had meant nothing at all to her. During the time she had sat trembling and bewildered in that service kitchen of the hotel she had scarcely given him a thought, except when she recalled the incidents which had preceded her taking a railway ticket to Sunbury. As to why she had done that ... Ann shrugged, and with that little movement she pushed Michael Lenforth out of her life.

She began to wonder about that further year of training at Queen Frida’s which lay ahead of her when the doctors finally pronounced her fit. Even when she had been engaged to Michael, and looking forward to their marriage, she had still been insistent that she should get her Queen Frida’s Certificate first. But now even that didn’t matter any longer.

Ann turned her face to the wall and sighed dispiritedly. Megan Elliott bit her lip and turned away. In a way, she was glad that Sister had given her such strict instructions that she wasn’t to allow the patient to talk very much, or to ask questions. She didn’t really want to be the one to tell Ann that Iain Sherrarde was leaving the Institute and going to America for an indefinite period.

It was several days later that Sister said briskly, “Go out and sit by the sea this afternoon, Miss Wood. Once you’re back in London, you won’t get any sea air.”

“No,” Ann agreed rather apathetically. Tomorrow she was leaving for London, and she supposed she would never come to Sunbury again.

A little while later she was walking down to the beach where once — how long ago it seemed — she had strolled with Iain Sherrarde and he had told her that the children would soon be going to school.

There had been no news at all from Fountains, and no one had visited her in hospital. Iain ... She turned her thoughts resolutely to the children, wondering whether they had missed her and how their questions had been answered.

It was sunny and warm and she decided that she would walk right to the headland, but she had taken only a few steps when she heard a voice calling and she turned to see Averil Pollard waving.

She went back towards the other girl, and saw that the children were immediately below, playing on the sand.

“I’ve been wondering whether we should see you, Ann,” Averil remarked excitedly. “I could kick myself for being such a fool not to guess all the time that you weren’t really that Anne Woods. What a nerve that woman had, taking you to Fountains and making you slave looking after Beverley and the children, and not paying you a penny for it.”

Color burned in Ann’s face. How had Averil got that information? She herself had never spoken of it.

“So the children haven’t gone to school yet?” she said, changing the subject.

“Oh, they’re not going now. They’ll be joining their mother in London in another few weeks. I think Mrs. Trederrick and Doctor Lyntrope will be glad to see the back of them.”

“So you’re all at Dainty’s End!” Ann’s expression was one of surprise. “Has Mrs. Derhart left Fountains?”

“Mrs. Leedon now. They were married all the time, you know.”

“No! I knew they had been married before, but there was a divorce.”

“Yes, and then they re-married, it seems, while she was still in London, recovering from her accident. She didn’t want anybody to know, and so she pretended to be crazy about Mr. Sherrarde. I suppose it was a pose,” Averil went on doubtfully, “just to take everyone’s attention from her and Mr. Leedon. He got the job down here to be near her — pulled all sorts of strings to get it, Burrows says. But then, when his cousin and all the family were killed in that plane accident, Mr. Leedon came into an estate and a lot of money, so madam decided there was no longer any need for secrecy and no longer any need for keeping well in with Mr. Sherrarde. They’ve gone off for a second honeymoon and then they’re going to have the children with them in London.” She smiled. “I promised I’d stay with the children till then. After that ... well, Burrows has got a job at the Institute, and we’re going to be married.”

Ann offered her congratulations, but after a few minutes’ talk about her own plans, Averil said, “There was a terrific bust-up with Mr. Sherrarde the day after Matron’s Ball. It’s my opinion that it was after that that Mrs. Derhart decided to admit she was married and clear out altogether. Emma was hiding in a cupboard in the lounge, and she heard the row. That’s how I know about it.”

“Emma!” ejaculated Ann distastefully.

“She didn’t understand the half of what she had heard, but you know what a good memory she has, and she kept recounting bits of it to Guy. I thought I’d better not stop her talking or she might begin to think it was important.”

Ann said slowly, “And Mrs. Woods?”

“She packed and went off when Beverley left. She has gone to London too.”

Ann stared ahead of her in bewildered silence. It seemed incredible that so much had happened in so short a time. Mrs. Woods and Beverley and Mr. Leedon had already gone, and very soon the children would be going too. Burrows and Averil had left Fountains. And Iain...

“I suppose you know that Mr. Sherrarde is leaving the Institute?” Averil went on, looking at Ann with unconcealed curiosity.

“Leaving the Institute!” Ann gasped. “Really leaving, you mean?”

“Yes, he’s going to America for an indefinite period,” the girl replied, and then with would be carelessness, “I gather from Emma’s account of that row that he was taking it badly that he’d ... sort of misjudged you.”

Ann’s face became frozen, and Averil looked at her rather timidly.

“Oh, please don’t mind my saying this, but I couldn’t help guessing that you ... thought quite a lot of him ... and I noticed the way he looked at you ... But from what Emma said she’d overheard, I gather he taxed Mrs. Woods and her daughter about their doing all they could to make him have a bad opinion of you. He said you’d never forgive him and he’d never forgive himself...”

Ann would have turned away, but by now the children had seen her and they came racing up, clinging to her and demanding to know whether she was better.

“Was it Uncle Iain who made you ill?” Emma demanded.

Ann shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“Then why did he tell Nana and Mummy that he’d treated you very badly and you would never forgive him? Why did he say you had received nothing but unkindness from everybody at Fountains and that you must hate us all? You don’t hate us, do you, Auntie Anne?”

As she bent down to them, Guy was covering her face with kisses. “You don’t hate us, do you, Nurse Auntie Anne?”

“Of course not, darlings.” Tears were not very far from Ann’s eyes. “But, Emma darling, you shouldn’t listen to other people’s conversation and you certainly shouldn’t repeat what you hear.”

“I couldn’t help listening. I was hiding from Guy in the cupboard and they all came in. Uncle Iain said how dared they keep you short of money. He’d been paying you to look after us and you hadn’t had a penny of it. But he’d seen that you had the dress you wanted for the dance, though...”

Ann’s face burned. She refused to look at Averil Pollard. “Emma, were you building castles or fortresses down on the beach?” she questioned rather desperately. But she might have known that Emma was not to be deflected.

“Uncle Iain said he’d never be able to speak to you again. Nurse Auntie Anne, why can’t he speak to you again? Don’t you like him any more?”

As she raised her angelic blue eyes to examine Ann’s face, something cold and frozen seemed to melt in Ann’s heart. She said softly, “Yes, Emma, I like him very much.”

She was hurrying ... almost running, in point of fact, up the road to the Institute. If she didn’t hurry and feel breathless, she would lose all her courage and turn back.

It was Frank Whitely whom Ann saw first. He was just coming down the steps from the main door.

“The Director?” he queried, his face lighting up. “He’s in his room, still packing up. Ann, if you’ve any influence at all with him, try to make him change his mind about leaving. The Institute won’t be the same without him. It can’t be. There’s his room ... along that corridor.”

A moment or two later Ann stood in the doorway. A glance round the big room revealed packing cases into which books and specimens were being stowed.

Iain was standing by his desk, a sheaf of papers in his hands. His face, when he looked up, had a kind of icy self-control.

Ann said nervously, “I heard you were leaving, and as I’m going to London tomorrow, I came to say goodbye.”

He moved forward, took some books from a chair and invited her to sit down. “It’s good of you to bother,” he said. “I hope you’ve completely recovered now. You’re going back to Queen Frida’s, I suppose?” His voice was cool and remote, full of indifference.

“Yes, to do my fourth year of training and get my Queen Frida’s certificate.”

“Don’t work too hard, then,” he advised remotely. “It’s a strenuous life, training in hospital.”

“No, I won’t, and you mustn’t either.” They were addressing each other almost like strangers, Ann thought wretchedly. I must get away. I made the most awful mistake in coming.

She stood up and turned to the door. “Ann.” His voice made her pause, though she did not turn back. “Ann, you know that I hope you’ll be very happy.”

“Thank you...” Her voice was muffled. She must get away before she broke down in complete humiliation.

“You—you’re not marrying immediately, then?” There was desperation in his voice, desperation to keep her just a little longer.

“Marrying?” Ann swung round, her eyes wide. “I don’t understand.”

“But you were engaged — are engaged, I should say, to that house pathologist ... He was there, at Matron’s Ball...”

Ann’s chin was tilted. “My engagement to Michael Lenforth was broken off before I came to Sunbury. I had returned his ring before I ever met you ... Iain.”

It was the use of his name which broke the spell. His face changed as he strode forward. “Ann, my darling, does that mean...?”

But all questions and explanations seemed futile as their lips met, and they recaptured the happiness which had been theirs for a few hours on the night of the ball.