Seaside Hospital (12 page)

“Oh well, you’d better go now,” Jacky said. “I’ve told you what they said, and you can see you won’t get anything from that. Did you really mean it about Derek?”

“Oh, never mind about Derek—are you sure you know nothing else? Did they mention any names? District? Anything that would give me a clue how to find them, or only one of them? Don’t you see, he’ll
die,
that little boy, if they don’t come.”

“My, you do take it to heart, don’t you?” Jacky said in an amused voice. “Sorry, but if you think I’m going to disclose their addresses and bring them down like a ton of coal on me—I’m pretty sure they realized I’d been listening in. That was why I drifted off to the ladies’.”

“You know their addresses?” Lisa gasped.

“What if I do?” Jacky said, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not going to risk losing Derek because of what they’d say—”

“How could they say anything? On your own admission you only listened to their private conversation and looked at a ring that was left behind—Oh no! Jacky, you didn’t take anything else, did you?” The thought struck her, prompted by Jacky’s look of guilt and anxiety rather than from anything Jacky had said.

Jacky thought about it for a minute and then opened her handbag to remove a small flat velvet case, which she silently opened. Lisa gasped. Inside it, on a bed of satin, lay a superb brooch. “Diamonds,” Jacky said, biting her lip. “The poor chump tried to buy her off with it. They were having such a row that he didn’t know what he was doing and slipped it into his coat pocket. This was asking for it. I just had to borrow it to look at it.” Lisa’s hand trembled as she handed it back to her sister, but Jacky pushed it away. “I don’t want it,” she said fiercely. “You have it. I don’t want the thing.”

“Oh, Jacky, Jacky, will you never learn that you can’t keep taking valuable things and then have someone else put them back for you. It’s just plain stealing—”

“It isn’t, it isn’t! I just borrow them to look at!”

“It is not. It’s stealing, and one day the police will catch up with you and you’ll go to prison.”

Jacky burst into violent sobbing. “It isn’t, it isn’t. If that happens to me, it’ll be your fault for not helping me. You’ve only got to get rid of it. If it was stealing, I’d keep it, wouldn’t I, or sell it and spend the money? But I don’t want any part of it.” She stopped crying and looked cunning again. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do—I’ll give you the names and addresses you want, if you’ll get rid of that thing and not let anything happen to me.”

Lisa left the Coronet Theatre in a dreadful state of mind. Jacky had been called down for rehearsals almost at once, after that last suggestion of hers. She had dabbed on extra makeup and gone downstairs gaily; her piquant little face held no trace of anything that might indicate the recent ravages of tears.

Lisa herself felt beyond tears. How
could
she have agreed to such a dreadful suggestion? As it was, she had the stolen article in her handbag, because Jacky simply refused to keep it. In that mood, Lisa was always just a little afraid of what her sister might do. Jacky alternated so quickly between tears and laughter, excitement and the depths of depression and despair, that it seemed dangerous to force the issue. And so Lisa took the velvet case with the diamond brooch in it and returned to the hospital. Mary met her with an odd look on her face.

“That child is creating quite a stir,” she said.

“Christopher? Is he worse?” Lisa, breathed.

Mary nodded.

“More reporters have been down. London ones this time. I wonder what’s really at the back of it.”

“Well, it’s obvious he’s no ordinary vacationer’s child,” Lisa mused. “His clothes were very good—”

“Yes, I know. Someone’s taken great care of him—so where are they now?”

“Mary,” Lisa said, desperate to confide in someone and yet not daring to trust the indiscreet, yet generous, Mary with too many details. “Here’s a hypothetical case. Suppose I ran across someone who knew how to contact that child’s parents. It is a matter of the child’s life—”

“Then you’d have to go ahead,” Mary said at once.

“Even if the person wanted to bargain with you to hide something you knew they’d done wrong?” Lisa said.

“What’s hypothetical about that?” Mary said bluntly. “It’s true, isn’t it? It isn’t just something you’ve thought up? If you know such a person, it doesn’t matter who they are or what they’ve done, there shouldn’t be any bargaining or any hiding of facts—you should tell the police, and leave it to them.”

Lisa turned away. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t report her own sister to the police. There must be some other way. Besides, what good would it do? Jacky would deny everything, put on a lot of hysterics, work herself up to get ill, lose her job, and be the bane of Lisa’s life, but—they would get no information out of her. Lisa was certain of that. So what would be the use of such a course?

“Who is it who knows, Lisa?” Mary asked.

“Oh, forget it. It’s just guesswork.” Lisa muttered, wishing she had not said so much.

“Pity. The poor little chap’s pretty bad,” Mary said glumly. “I wonder if Randall Carson will go to Lady Frenton’s house party now? He ought to, as it’s for his clinic she’s raising the money.”

Mary searched her friend’s face, before she asked diffidently, “Will you be going with him, Lisa?”

“Nothing’s been said, and I doubt it,” Lisa said quietly.

As she had expected, Sister approached her the minute she went onto the wards. She would have to tell her as much as she could, Lisa knew.

“Well, Nurse? Did you have any better luck?”

“Yes, Sister. I did find out that someone was sitting quite near to these people. It seems that there’s no proper home background. The father married the mother secretly and is frightened of his own mother’s displeasure, that he’ll be cut off—so the wife and child have to be kept firmly in the background.”

“Yes, I was afraid it was something of that sort. Did you manage to find out who the parents were?”

“Not yet, but I’m hoping to soon. Sister. It’s difficult, but I think I may be able to.”

Sister looked worried. “Time is running short, Nurse. We’ve had to use the newspapers to help us.”

That was usually the last desperate resource.

In the big evening newspapers was a paragraph asking the public if they knew of such a little boy. It included a graphic description of him and the accident and finished by saying that they would not be able to save him if one or both parents did not come to him soon.

Lisa went off duty at eight with a heavy heart.

Ellard telephoned and said he wanted to see her at the Royal Hotel. Something was in his voice that made her hesitate as she was about to refuse.

Mary looked in at her door as she went by.

“Hello, going out?”

“Just for a little while. There’s someone I have to see,” Lisa said. Mary’s face changed, so Lisa said impatiently, “Oh, Mary, let’s not be like this—just trust me if I won’t tell you everything at the time. I’m not being secretive. It’s just—oh well, if you must know, Ellard Lindon just phoned and said he wanted to see me.”

“Well, why couldn’t you say so, without making a mystery out of it?” Mary said crossly. “I tell you all about my Jerry.”

“Mary, you’re in love with Jerry, and it’s all fair and above board, and your father approves of him and there aren’t any complications—”

She broke off as she realized how much she had blurted out in her anxiety and worry.

“And are there complications about Ellard and you?” Mary asked quietly, and rather worriedly. “Isn’t it all fair and above board? And does it have anything to do with the person who knows the names of those people, and you don’t want to go to the police about?”

Lisa looked frankly distressed.

“Mary, I’d tell you everything, but honestly, I don’t want it all over the hospital and—”

Mary was offended at once.

“So you can’t trust me now, is that it?”

“I didn’t mean that, but you just don’t realize you’re letting secrets out. Look at that business of Randall Carson and me—everyone was talking about it, and he was furious and blamed me for talking about what he pleased to term ‘just one evening out together.’ Don’t you see?”

“Well, you can’t blame me for that. Neither Jerry nor I realized you wouldn’t want anyone to know. Goodness, you weren’t making any secret of it yourselves, looking completely soppy and out of this world, while you were both dancing—at the Gloucester, of all places!”

Lisa had to admit that there was some truth in that, although she did not like the way Mary had put it.

“Well, anyway, I can’t tell you about this business, my dear, because this doesn’t happen to be my secret to tell. I can only beg of you not to breathe a word to anyone about what I’ve told you tonight.”

“I’m sure I shan’t say a word, not even to Jerry,” Mary said, and went into her own room and banged the door.

Lisa sighed, and left to go to the Royal Hotel where Ellard was waiting for her.

This time he was in the lounge. The place was much less crowded than the last time she had been there, and she saw with relief that he made no move to take her up to his sitting room. He ordered drinks for them both and stared somberly at her. “You haven’t had your holidays yet, have you, Lisa?”

“No, I haven’t. They’re due pretty soon.”

“That’s fine. Push ’em forward a bit.”

“What did you say?” she gasped.

“I said push ’em forward. We’re going for a little trip, you and I, and there’s no time like the present.”

“What are you talking about, Ellard? You must know I can’t push my holidays forward like that. I have to wait my turn.” She looked, frankly worried, at him. “Besides, I don’t understand how your trip comes into it.”

“We’re going abroad together. It was to be a surprise. You know me, Lisa, I never waste time over a lot of trifling arrangements. I make up my mind on the instant and go. And between ourselves,” he broke off to smile twistedly at her, “there are times when things get a little uncomfortable for me in this country, and I get out of it for my health, until everything blows over. I’m sure you don’t have to ask me what I mean by that.”

She felt cold. As if it was not bad enough with Jacky thieving, Ellard had to be in something unsavory, too! But in all honesty, she had to admit to herself that she had always suspected he didn’t make his money in any orthodox manner.

“It’s out of the question, Ellard,” she told him quietly. “You go, by all means, if you must, but I can’t, even if I wanted to. Jacky’s in a mess again.”

“Jacky! I could have told you that!”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her eyes widening.

He shrugged. “Was she ever out of a mess? All those three years she went around with me, I kept that girl out of trouble by sheer force of personality. If I hadn’t made her afraid of me, goodness knows what would have happened. I don’t know whether you realize it, but she can lift things under your very nose. You just don’t see her hands move! She’s a menace!”

“Don’t I know it!” Lisa said feelingly. “Ellard, I just don’t know what to do. Those people I told you about, related to the little boy who was run over—she knows who they are, and she won’t give me the information, although the child will die if his parents don’t come forward soon.”

“Oh? What’s her price for the information?” he asked in a cynical voice that struck chill to Lisa’s heart.

“To get rid of a diamond brooch. The man had tried to give it to the little boy’s mother, and she didn’t want it.”

Ellard laughed shortly. “How like Jacky! Get me out of trouble and never mind who else is hurt in the process! What are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do?” Lisa whispered.

“What happened about that clip she took?”

Lisa blanched. “I asked a friend of mine to put it back for me, and he did.”

Ellard’s face hardened. Like Randall Carson, he did not like to hear that Lisa had other men friends.

“For a girl with such an innocent face, you certainly manage to get men to run around and do things for you,” he commented. “Well, I suggest you get the same man to get rid of this for you, and then leave the country with me. The kindest thing in the world you can do for that sister of yours, as I’ve told you before, is to leave her high and dry to face the music. Now, Lisa, you haven’t much time to get ready. I shall be leaving this weekend.”

She stared uncomprehendingly at him and then rose slowly. “You just don’t understand, do you?” she said, in a low voice. “You think you can make people do just as you like, just because you’ve got the whip hand. In a way, you’re just like Jacky.”

He got up, too, and stood smiling at her. “In a rather different way, shall we say, Lisa, because you see, I
have
got the whip hand, and you know it.”

She shook her head slowly. “No. No, you haven’t. What if you do have some letters of Jacky’s? Do you know, I believe I’m beyond caring what you do about them. I think the time has come when I have to do the right and proper thing, regardless of whether it’s going to make things uncomfortable for any one person.”

Just for a moment he looked startled, and then he recovered and laughed easily, and patted her arm.

“You’re just tired and overwrought. You’ll feel differently tomorrow. Oh, by the way, is your passport in order, Lisa?”

“Yes! Why?”

“Bring it with you, and the very minimum of luggage. I’ll be outside in my car waiting for you—don’t keep me hanging about, there’s a good girl. We’ve got a private plane chartered from an airfield near here, but we don’t want to keep the chap on tenterhooks.”

She looked in amazement at him, and then gave up. It was of no use to repeat that she was not going with him. He was like Jacky in that respect: he simply didn’t listen to anything he didn’t want to hear.

She said goodbye in a flat little voice and went out, hardly conscious that he had strolled to the door of the hotel with her to see her off.

Her mind was full of what she had just made up her mind to do. Sister’s words were ringing in her head, and Mary’s comment, too. Undoubtedly she would have to go to the police. Her duty as a nurse was to consider that child, not her sister, Jacky.

Once outside the police station, however, she stopped dead in her tracks, appalled, as a new thought struck her. She was carrying valuable stolen property on her person.

She walked away to think and then went back again. After hesitating two or three times, and walking away again, more uncertain than she had ever been in her life before about something she had to do, Lisa heard Randall Carson’s voice hailing her. He was the one person in all the world who, she knew, would never falter, in what he had to do. He would advise her.

“Whatever’s wrong, Lisa?” he demanded. “I’ve been watching you. Here, come back to the car. It’s just over there. Actually I’ve been trying to find you.”

She walked beside him, and sank into the seat, feeling tired out with anxiety and doubt.

“I was going to the police about some information I have about little Christopher, but I’m not sure that I would be doing the right thing,” she began.

“Why?” he asked bluntly. “Tell me what you know.”

She thought for a moment, then summed it up in these brief words.
“Someone I know well sat near the parents as they were discussing their situation. They are frightened of the results of the publicity they’ll get if they come forward. The person heard names and addresses, but won’t give them until I promise not to give away her secret. She’s a kleptomaniac.”

His face went haggard. “The boy’s dying,” he said.

“I know. Oh, Randall. I know, but tell me what I must do! Condone a theft, to coax the information out of her, for his life or—refuse to do as she wants, and let him die? It’s for you to tell me—what must I do?”