Honorary Surgeon (8 page)

“
I thought you knew
...”
As Mary shook her head, Joan continued:
“
Don
’
t misunderstand me. I
’
ve told you
I don
’
t get mad crazes for people, but if I
did
feel that way, it wouldn
’
t be about Sir Richard.
”

Mary released her friend and seated herself on a chair in a listening attitude.
“
Then who would it be?
”

“
Don
’
t you really know? I
’
ve thought sometimes that you guessed. Dr. Mayton. I think he
’
s worth a dozen of their divine Dickie.
”

“
Noel!
...
Good heavens!
”
Mary stared at her friend, momentarily at a loss for words.
“
But I never thought ... I had no idea
...”

“
I
’
ve explained ... I never gush ... In any case, I know he
’
s a friend of yours
...
not just a hospital friendship, either. I know he
’
s more than that to you; at least, you are to him,
”
Joan amended. She looked up at her companion, searching her face as she continued speaking.
“
Mary, I
’
ve sometimes wondered
...
you don
’
t feel the same way about him as he does about you, do you?
”

Mary lowered her eyes.
“
No, of course not. We
’
re just friends, that
’
s all.
”

Completely unaware of her friend
’
s embarrassment, Joan Howe continued speaking.
“
Of course, I hardly know him. I
’
ve been out with you both
...
Y
o
u remember last year you asked me to join
you ...
It was in the summer when you were on holiday he took me out once alone. He gave me a marvellous evening,
”
she added reminiscently.

“
I
’
m glad. I
’
ll drop him a line to remind him that you
’
ll be lonely while I
’
m away this time
...
He must take you out again.
”
Mary rose to her feet and crossed quickly to the table. Picking up the letter, so recently written, she tore it slowly into pieces.
“
I had to write this letter again, anyway ... I had explained myself so badly
...
I
’
ll write and tell him to fix an evening for you,
”
Mary explained as she noticed her friend
’
s surprise at her action.

“
Why tear it up? You could have added a bit.
”
Joan rose from her kneeling position and stood behind her friend.
“
Mary
...
you don
’
t
m
ind
...
and you
’
ll never breathe a word
...
about what I
’
ve told you, I mean?
”

“
Naturally I won
’
t
.
And why should I mind?
”
Mary assured her. She prayed that her assurance had carried conviction, and turned away to hide the misery in her eyes. Joan must never know, never guess, what that letter had contained.

Joan slipped her arm through her friend
’
s.
“
Mary, you
’
re an angel! I
’
ve sometimes wondered if you
’
d mind about my liking Noel
...
I
’
ve been afraid to tell you.
”
Joan laughed.
“
I might have guessed! Instead of minding you
’
re going to do your very best to let me see more of him!
”
She gave her friend an impetuous hug.
“
Thank you, darling. And, Mary, you will come back here, won
’
t you?
”
she pleaded.

“
Yes
...
I
’
ll come back.
”

Satisfied with the answer, Joan returned with renewed zest to her task, and, humming softly, carefully folded each garment.

For a few moments Mary watched her, then, pulling up a chair, seated herself again at the table. True, she mused, while with pen poised in her hand she stared at the sheet of paper before her, Noel Mayton might hardly be aware of Joan
’
s existence, and certainly unaware of her admiration for him, but, while there was a woman prepared to offer him the devotion he deserved, Mary knew that, whatever suffering the future might hold, she could no longer marry Noel simply as a way of escape.

CHAPTER
SIX

“
Good-bye, Mary!
Have a good time, and mind y
o
u get well again
...
See you again in a fortnight!
”
Joan Howe stepped back on the platform as the train jerked into motion and noisily steamed out of the station.

Mary Grant leaned out of the third-class carriage window and waved a final farewell to her friend.
“
Thanks for seeing me off,
”
she called. Before she could say more the train was rattling its way out beyond the confines of the big terminus. She sank back into her corner seat, took off her hat, and picked up the morning paper. But she could not settle to read, for there was too much on her mind. How splendid it would be to meet Veronica once more, to discuss all that had happened since they last parted. She was longing to hear about Veronica
’
s life in the East, longing to meet Guy, her husband, and Jeanette, their four-year-old daughter. It really was wonderful to
think of this reunion after six long years of separation. Of course, when Veronica had set out long ago on that holiday trip to join her brother in Singapore, she had expected to return within six months at most. Then she had met Guy Perivale, fallen in love, and married him before the six months was up. She had written home enthusiastic letters about the life, the country, their sports and friends, and it was not until after Jeanette
’
s birth that the letters had become less frequent, shorter, and much less personal. Sometimes Mary had wondered whether Veronica was as wildly happy as she had at first suggested; she had been absurdly young when she had married. She had spent a very quiet childhood, and been brought up by an aunt who lived in a rambling old house some miles outside Oxford. Occasionally Mary had spent a few days at Windyridge, but she had not a very clear recollection of the house. It seemed strange to think that she should be returning there after such a lapse of time, for Veronica had once more taken up her abode with her aunt, and was to stay there for the remainder of the time that she and her husband were to be in England on leave. Mary smiled to herself. Aunt Bess had always been a darling and pleased to have young people in her home. Mary felt delighted at the idea of meeting her again.
“
Queen Bess!
”
Yes, that was what they used to call her, and rightly too, for everyone, young and old, was ready to pay her homage.

The train was slowing down! This must be Oxford, then! Mary removed her suitcase from the
Luggage
-rack, hastily replaced her hat, and, slipping her heavy coat over her arm, prepared to alight the moment the train stopped.

For a second she stood on the platform not quite knowing which way to turn, and then suddenly she found herself being wildly hugged and kissed as Veronica greeted her in a wholly incoherent fashion.

“
Oh, Mary, darling, it is marvellous to see you! I thought your train would never arrive! I
’
ve been here hours.
”

“
But I
’
m not late, am I?
”
Mary queried.

“
Not a split second, my dear; but you don
’
t seem to understand that I
’
m thrilled to the core to have you here, and that it
’
s the most heavenly thing that
’
s happened to me in years. It
’
s a more ecstatic moment than my first
glimpse of England, and, believe me, I rose before the dawn to view my native shores.
”
Veronica
’
s words seemed to tumble out of her mouth in her uncontrolled gaiety.

“
Well, I must say I didn
’
t expect such a welcome as this. I feel more like a long-lost lover than a girl friend.
”
Mary laughed.
“
Still, I agree with you that it is grand to be together again, and oh, you can
’
t imagine how thankful I am to get right away from
’
hospital, away from the noise and stuffiness of London!
”
She drew a deep breath.
“
Yes, this is gorgeous; I feel that I can really breathe here!
”

“
I don
’
t think the air is anything special in the station,
”
Veronica teased.
“
You wait until you get out to Windyridge! It
’
s more beautiful out there than ever, I think, and the mulberry-tree (do you remember the one we used to climb?), it
’
s absolutely immense, and gives the most lovely shade on the lawn. Jeanette and I scarcely go out of the grounds. Aunt Bess has kept them as wild as ever; they are exactly as they always used to be, and it
’
s gorgeous for Jeannie, absolutely safe for her to run all over the place. It
’
s been such perfect weather, too; we both simply live in sun-suits. I
’
m quite alarmingly tanned.
”

Mary looked surreptitiously at her friend. Yes, she was certainly brown, but there were deep shadows beneath her eyes which did not indicate the good health she should have enjoyed, considering the lazy, open-air life she was apparently leading. How thin she was, too, as though she were living at high tension; and the way she rattled on
...
surely that was a form of nerves? It was so unlike the Veronica that Mary had previously known. But perhaps she was imagining things; it might merely be the effect of several years spent in the trying climate of the Orient, and of course, there was the excitement
of this meeting.

“
Come on, Mary, I
’
ve brought the car along. I suppose you
’
ll entrust yourself to me. I
’
m quite reliable, really. Buses and cars don
’
t seem nearly as formidable on the road as water-buffalo and hordes of native children. Just chuck your case in the back and clamber in beside me. It won
’
t take very long to get to the house.
”

Mary did as she was bidden, and the car was soon speeding along the leafy country lanes. Veronica had grown curiously silent after her previous volubility, and it was not until they drew up outside Windyridge that she spoke again.
“
I
’
m afraid Guy isn
’
t in just now. I hope you
’
ll excuse his absence. You see, visitors are always coming and going out East, so that he doesn
’
t consider that your advent on the scene is of any importance,
”
she explained in doubtful tones.

“
It doesn
’
t matter a bit. Why should he bother about me anyway? Besides I don
’
t want to be treated as a true
‘
visitor
’
In fact, I almost suspect that he
’
s being tactful; probably he knows how much I shall enjoy having you to myself for a bit.
”