Tender Nurse (13 page)

“You’re not expecting any trouble today are you?” Andrea asked rather anxiously.

He smiled reassuringly. “No, sweetheart. I’ve made sure of that — I hope.”

They were entering the congested streets of Lancaster now, busy with market and north-bound traffic. Godfrey fell silent and concentrated on his driving. Half an hour later, they were driving along The Princes’ Way, the way along which Bonnie Prince Charlie had hastened in his retreat to Scotland.

“Enjoying the run, darling?” asked Godfrey.

She turned to smile at him. “Oh, yes. I’m feeling better already.”

“Well, in about ten minutes time, we’ll be within sight of Lake Windermere,” he told her.

The day was warm and sunny with a clear, vivid blue sky and just sufficient breeze to make a perfect English summer day. Suddenly, Andrea gave an exclamation.

“Ah, there’s the lake, Godfrey, just between the trees. Now it’s gone — there it is again. Can you see it, darling?”

Godfrey took a swift look. “A little further along there’s a break in the trees and space to park. We’ll stop and have a proper look, then we must find some lunch.”

Andrea’s spirits rose. It was quite a long time since she had been to the lakes, but no matter how often she came, it always seemed new to her. Presently, Godfrey stopped the car on a grassy patch of land. There, shimmering in the sun was the great lake, its placid blue surface broken only by the vivid white of a sailing yacht as it cut an arrow-shaped wake across the water. Beyond rose wooded hills, losing themselves against a seemingly endless background of majestic mountains.

Andrea drew in an ecstatic breath, her gaze wandering all around in sheer delight, her eyes sparkling with pure enjoyment.

“Godfrey, what a wonderful idea of yours to come here. This is perfect.”

The summer breeze ruffled her dark hair and gently billowed her cotton dress. Godfrey gazed at her adoringly and sought her hand. He was mad about her. If only he could bring her to love him so ardently that she would want nothing more than to marry him at once. He put an arm round her waist and drew her to his side.

“I wish we could do this more often, my darling.”

She pressed his hand. “We will, one day, I’m sure.”

He sighed. One day. How content she was to wait for that day, but he — the years stretched ahead interminably.

They drove into Windermere for lunch and afterwards found a wooded slope overlooking the lake. There they meandered for a while, then lay on the soft bracken gazing up through the trees to the blue canvas high above,  idly tracing a leafy pattern and listening to the song of the birds, the drowsy humming of the bees and the chirping of the many insects. Godfrey bent over her and kissed her lips. They were soft and sweet and he was hungry for the touch of them, yet he kissed her softly and gently. Her hand came up to caress his cheek.

“I love you,” he said simply.

She smiled and he kissed her again, ardently now.

Startled, she sat up. Then with a light laugh, she kissed his cheek.

“Hadn’t we better be starting back, or we’ll be late for the theatre?”

“We’ve plenty of time.” His arms stole around her. She made a movement and began to get to her feet.

“Please, Godfrey, don’t make too much love to me.”

Suddenly, for some reason that she could not fathom, she wanted to cry. It was as if all the battles and hurts and disappointments of the past week were going to culminate in one great flood or weeping.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Godfrey was immediately contrite. “I’m a clumsy idiot. Let’s set off back shall we? We’ll go via Kendal. The road is wild and hilly — you’ll find it invigorating.”

She smiled again and gave him her hand to help her to her feet. “Yes, darling. That sounds wonderful.”

They arrived in Cliftonville with time enough to spare for a late tea at their favourite restaurant.

“Have you really enjoyed the day, Andrea? Godfrey asked. “Has it filled the bill — mountain tops and all?”

“Oh yes. Just what I needed. Thank you, my dear, very much indeed.”

“Well, I hope the show rounds off your day. It’s just common or garden variety, but I hear it’s uproariously funny in places.”

“Good. I don’t feel like anything serious.”

The theatre was full to capacity, a gay responsive audience, ready to be thoroughly amused. Andrea’s eyes went instinctively to the box where she had sat with Martin and the others for the performance of “Iolanthe.”

She gave a start of surprise. Sister Fisher was sitting there, looking cool and poised in filmy summer dress. She was turning a dazzling smile toward her companion who was half hidden from view by the curtains of the box. Andrea wondered whether it was the naval officer in whose company she had been that night at the Hutt. But this man was not in uniform.

The show began and Andrea’s attention was turned to the stage. It was indeed a very good, fast-moving show with plenty of laughs, the curtain coming down for the interval on a pair of riotously funny acrobats.

“Let’s go and have coffee in the lounge,” Godfrey suggested.

The lounge was crowded, so that by the time they had reached the serving counter and got their coffee, the interval was almost over. They finished their drink, however, just as the curtain bell sounded. They turned to go back to their seats, edging their way through the tightly packed throng and were almost at the door when they came face to face with Julia Fisher and her companion. It was Martin.

UNBELIEVINGLY, Andrea looked from one to the other. Martin’s face was expressionless, his eyes cool. The two men murmured a polite “good evening.” Julia, a thin smile on her red lips, glanced pointedly at Godfrey as she said: “Good evening, Nurse.”

Bracing herself, Andrea made a hurried introduction, and after a few polite remarks about the show, they parted and made their way back to their respective seats.

Andrea was thankful that Godfrey made no comment on the meeting. Somehow, she sat through the rest of the performance. Over a light supper and during the drive back to the hospital she even managed to make some kind of conversation. To Godfrey, her voice sounded tired. He looked at her anxiously.

“I hope today hasn’t been too much for you, darling. You look rather pale.”

She smiled. “Of course it hasn’t been too much,” she said reassuringly. “It’s been a lovely day and thank you, my dear.”

He kissed her good night lovingly and she went wearily to her room. Why did it upset her so much seeing Martin and Sister Fisher together? Had she really expected that because — almost by chance — he had taken her out to dinner, he would not take another woman out, that his friendship was hers exclusively? She argued with herself that it was the cold, impersonal way he had looked at her that had hurt. It was as if they had been almost strangers, as if the wonderful understanding that had grown between them had never existed. Had she merely dreamed that enchanting night at the theatre; was the unforgettable evening when he had taken her out for a meal, a mere figment of her imagination? Miserably, she got into bed and lay staring at the ceiling. It was obvious that he had regretted being so friendly with her — or had she read too much in the things he had said to her? Had he sensed that and decided to show her that he had no intention of allowing their friendship to develop, or even continue? She asked herself why his friendship and his attitude should mean so much to her. What was she worrying about? Did she not owe a loyalty to Godfrey, anyway, even though they were not engaged. Had she expected even wanted — her friendship with Martin Graham to develop? For no relationship between a man and a woman ever stood still, she knew that. It must either grow and develop or fade and die.

She stretched out her hand and put out the light. She could not trust herself to go on thinking. She hoped that if Virginia came along the corridor and saw her room in darkness, she would think that she was asleep. If Virginia came in, she would know at once that she was troubled and she did not want to talk tonight. Resolutely, she set herself to go to sleep, deliberately turning her thoughts elsewhere. To Godfrey, to their day out, the beauty of the lakes. But all at once she was aware of tears trickling down her cheeks. With a sob of bewilderment she buried her face in her pillow.

It was late when she awoke the next morning. When Virginia knocked on her door, she was still only half dressed.

“You’d better go on without me, Gini,” she said. “There’s no point in our both being late."

“Oh, I’ll wait. It’s Sunday. Night Sister won’t be there. It will be staff Nurse Carter and she doesn’t come into the dining room until the last minute, just in time to call the roll."

Andrea finished dressing hurriedly. “We’re off this morning anyhow. Are you doing anything special?"

“No — only odd jobs. Darning and so on."

“What about coming to the flat? You could bring your darning and ‘so on’ with you."

She snatched up her cloak and cuffs and they hurried along to the dining room, Andrea pulling on her cuffs as they went.

“That’s a lovely idea," Virginia said. “I hate Sunday mornings in the ‘Home.’ By the way, you were asleep early last night, weren’t you? But I don’t know that it’s done you much good. You look washed out."

“Do I?" Andrea answered dully.

Virginia looked at her keenly. “What did you do yesterday ?"

“We went to the Lake District. It was lovely."

“You sound as if you went to a funeral," Virginia said bluntly.

Andrea turned her large dark eyes to her friend. The wound in her heart was too new to hide, especially from Virginia’s keen perceptions.

“We finished up at the Theatre Royal. Martin was there with Sister Fisher," she said tonelessly as they walked into the dining room.

Being Sunday, many of the nurses were at church, so the two friends sat together. Virginia eyed Andrea with misgiving. Why should she be so upset—surely Martin had not subdued her?

“You’re late you two,” one of the nurses said. “Have you heard the latest?"

Andrea felt her stomach contract violently.

Virginia said calmly as she tackled her egg: “I expect so, but tell us the worst."

“Martin is taking the ‘Cod Fish’ out.” The giver of this piece of information waited for the dramatic effect she was sure her words would give. She was disappointed.

“Oh, good heavens. Is that all?” replied Virginia.

“All? Oh, Slater, you’re impossible!”

“Well, after all, if he can’t take out Theatre Sister occasionally——”

Andrea flashed her a grateful look, and at that moment the Night Staff Nurse came in to call the roll.

Breakfast was finished in silence save for the brief responses when each name was called out. Then they filed out of the room.

“See you at half-past nine,” Virginia murmured as they separted in the corridor.

“Yes,” replied Andrea. “We won’t stop for anything. We’ll just slip a coat over our uniform frocks and dash straight out, eh?”

Virginia nodded.

Unlike the nurses who, on Sunday mornings off put in a couple of hours duty first, the Sisters did not put in an appearance at all until one o’clock. For the first time, Andrea wished whole-heartedly that Sister Fisher had been on duty. The whole hospital in general, and the theatre staff in particular knew that Martin Graham and Sister Fisher had been to the theatre together. It was almost as if they had sent round notices of their intention.

“Let’s hope she’ll be a bit sweeter tempered,” declared Pat Rivers as she set about cleaning out the instrument cupboard.

“She should be,” said Janet Scott. “She’s been keen on him ever since he came here, but I don’t think he’s ever taken her out before.”

Andrea did not enlighten them. Obviously no one in the hospital save herself had seen them on the other occasion. She busied herself cleaning and oiling the wheels of the anaesthetic trolly, glad when nine-thirty came and she could escape the gossiping tongues.

Virginia did not mention either Martin or Julia Fisher until she and Andrea were comfortably seated in the flat with coffee and sandwiches to hand. Then she looked across to Andrea, a serious expression on her face.

“Andrea, what’s the matter? You look so unhappy, my dear. Does it mean so very much to you that Martin took Sister Fisher out?”

“I — I don’t know, Gini. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I just can’t sort myself out at all.”

“Did he snub you or something ?”

“Practically. His eyes were cold and unfriendly. He and Godfrey spoke to each other — just to say ‘good evening’ and make some comment on the show, but he didn’t speak to me at all, or even smile.”

“Well, of course he did have Sister with him,” Virginia pointed out.

“I don’t see what difference that should have made.” She thought of all the times in theatre when, in spite of Sister’s presence, he had managed to convey a warm and friendly message with his eyes. “Somehow, everything has been horribly different in theatre for the past weeks. Sister never gives me a minute’s peace — makes me appear an incompetent fool. Martin never even looks at me now, and even George has gone all quiet.”

“He’s been busy,” Virginia said rather briefly.

For a few minutes they ate and drank in silence. Then Virginia said quietly: “I shouldn’t expect too much of Martin, if I were you, especially in theatre. Perhaps when an opportunity occurs, he will suggest a foursome again. If not——” She shrugged.

Andrea looked at her dully. “Well, go on, finish it.”

“If not — why worry. You don’t really need his friendship do you? After all, you’ve got Godfrey, haven’t you?”

Virginia’s words were significant. There was silence.

“Virginia, you don’t understand!” Andrea burst out.

Virginia looked at her. “Do you?” she countered. “I think you’re a little muddled yourself.”