New Doctor at Northmoor (14 page)

‘
You didn
’
t expect me to be awake?
’

‘
Don
’
t sound so surprised. I hardly knew what to expect. Anyway, now I
’
m here, I suppose I can sit and have a chat, can
’
t I?
’

But he didn
’
t. He wandered over to the window and stood looking out, and when she said,
‘
Marvellous view, isn
’
t it, but they
’
ve taken it away from me on account of Mummy upsetting me. It
’
s a bit of a shame to take it out of me, just because she came and made me mad.
’
He started in surprise.

‘
Eh
?’
He turned from the window and came to stand by the bedside and she realized he hadn
’
t heard a word.

‘
What were you looking at
?’
she asked indignantly.

‘
The view. Mighty tine one you
’
ve got. Don
’
t you ever look out? No, I don
’
t suppose you can see from the bed.
’

‘
That
’
s what I
’
ve just been talking about,
’
she said, in disgust. This was Laurence, running true to form. Doing a kindly big brother act of pretending to talk to her, and getting tired of it as soo
n as the conversation started.

‘
Oh?
Have you? Oh, well, not to worry. Why don
’
t you ask them to push your bed nearer the window, and then you can see out
?’

She really couldn
’
t be bothered to explain all over again, then it occurred to her that he had been worried about the fire stairs. Of course, if that had really been him that she had heard in the night
?
But the minute
she thought about it, the thought became so ridiculous that she abandoned it. Of course Laurence wouldn
’
t be such a fool as to do such a thing.

Still, she had seen him (or thought she had seen him) talking to Catherine Allen at the main gate, hadn
’
t she? Being Gwenny, she couldn
’
t rest. She had to put it to the test.

‘
Do you know a nurse called Catherine Allen
?’
she asked suddenly, watching his face.

She thought she saw a gleam in his eyes, but on the whole he managed to control his face very well. He turned away and said casually,
‘
The giddy little cuddle
-
puss with ginger hair? She
’
s the latest acquisition of your new R.M.O., isn
’
t
she?
’
and with a roughly kind rub over her hair with his big clumsy hand, Laurence grinned at her and went out.

He had shaken her, but whether he realized that or not, she didn
’
t know. She lay there thinking about it. How was it she hadn
’
t discovered before now that that girl was extra friendly with Mark Bayfield? As she lay there, Gwenny wondered whether that could have really been Mark on the fire stairs with Catherine Allen last night, and not the person Gwenny had first thought it was. Much more likely, now she came to think of it, that that man out there was a resident here than her own brother, and anyway, Laurence wasn
’
t interested in anyone else but Tilda Sansom. What on earth had put Laurence into her mind when she had heard that young man
’
s voice last night? Gwenny asked herself anxiously.

She lay there thinking about it while the noises of hospital went on all around her. Sister hustling along the corridor, sending nurses scuttling before her, people
she found standing around gossiping or idling instead of getting on with the job. That nice new houseman with the sad spaniel face, and the easily recognizable voice
...
what had they called him? Gwenny heard him, too, and the orderly who banged down a bucket near Gwenny
’
s door. She had a peculiar shuffling gait, and a whining voice that could only have come from a certain part of London from whence had come one of the least lovable of her father
’
s
locums
one summer.

And then she heard the R.M.O.
’
s walk. Her heart did alarming little skips and slithers, movements which were not nice at all, and which bothered her. She caught her breath. She was waiting, waiting, hoping he would come in. He came in so often that she wasn
’
t surprised that the nurses gossiped, but after she had been cool to him or cross with him, Gwenny always waited breathlessly for him to come back so that she could take the chance to be nicer to him. And when he did return, she felt all cross and ready to do battle with him and after he had gone again she always remembered with surprise that she had been no different, in spite of her promises to herself. She wanted him with half of her, but the other half rejected him for an enemy, not only of her family but of herself.

This time she didn
’
t get the chance to say anything to him. Someone stopped him outside Gwenny
’
s door.

It was Catherine Allen. No mistaking that voice.

‘
Mark, darling
!’
Catherine said.

The R.M.O. said something sharp to her under his breath. Gwenny could guess that he was telling her not to talk like that to him. Gwenny wanted to cry out—it must have been Mark with her last night, and this seemed to be confirmed by her next remark.

‘
But I only wanted to speak about last night,
’

Catherine cooed.
‘
Were you very angry about last night
?
’

Again Gwenny strained to hear what he said, but she couldn
’
t. All she could hear was the angry note in his voice, but the words were purposely kept low. Obviously he didn
’
t want anyone to hear.

‘
But, Mark darling, how can you be so horrible to me?
’
Catherine wailed softly.

The R.M.O. said something else and marched off, obviously altering his mind about coming into Gwenny
’
s room at all. And then, to her surprise, the door opened and Catherine Allen came in.

She was carrying a vase of roses. She seemed to be surprised that Gwenny was lying there staring at her.

‘
Oh,
’
she said, her eyes wide.
‘
What are you doing, little one? I thought you were under!
’

‘
Who are those from? Those aren
’
t mine,
’
said Gwenny, hating Catherine Allen for being on such terms that she could call the R.M.O.
‘
darling
‘
openly.

‘
They must be, cherub, because they have on them a card marked
“
Gwen Kinglake
”
. You, I believe?
’

‘
Who are they from?
’
Gwenny asked blankly.

‘
No idea, little one, but you may look at the card if it helps you,
’
said Catherine, smiling broadly and holding the card for Gwenny to inspect. But it didn
’
t help. The card was printed in block capitals.

‘
The florist did that, no doubt,
’
Catherine remarked.
‘
It
’
ll be from a beau. Only men in love send a bouquet like this. What
’
s he like, cherub?
’

Gwenny wished Catherine Allen wouldn
’
t call her silly names. Out of sheer perversity, she said,
‘
He
’
s much older than me, but very distinguished-looking and quite rich.
’

Catherine looked astonished.
‘
When are we to see him? Does he know he can visit you any time he likes after two-thirty?
’

Gwenny said sourly,
‘
Do you think I
’
d have a rich man friend visit me in this place, looking as I do
?
Don
’
t be silly
!
Besides, he
’
s a secret from my parents, so please don
’
t tell anyone.
’

That was belated, Gwenny thought sourly, and inept. It was quite clear that Catherine Allen was going to rush right out and tell everyone that the little one in E-15 was hiding a rich man years her senior.

Still, it scored off Catherine Allen and wiped the silly smile off her face, Gwenny thought.

Catherine lingered.
‘
What does this rich man do for
a
living?
’
she wanted to know.

‘
Now do you really think I want to talk about him, nurse, now I
’
ve said he
’
s supposed to be a secret? Besides, hadn
’
t you better go and do the jobs you all get a rocket for not doing
?’

Catherine grinned,
‘
I suppose your sister has told you that. Not to worry—I collect so many rockets, one extra, more or less, won
’
t hurt me. Tell me, do you get disturbed by people outside your room at night?
’

‘
Which night, and which people?
’
Gwenny snapped.

‘
Oh, well, I was thinking. Other patients in this room
g
et the idea that people are on the fire stairs. I know
I
said I
’
d come in that way, but it was only a joke, it
w
as really
!’

‘
Have I said I heard you on the fire stairs
?’
Gwenny
s
aid mildly.

‘
No, but you might have thought you had,
’
Catherine
murmured
, watching her.

Gwenny shrugged.
‘
I haven
’
t, but if the R.M.O. likes
t
o bring girls in that way, it
’
s no concern of mine.
’

Catherine
’
s face took on a pretty mask of complete
astonishment.
‘
The R.M.O? Brings girls in that way? On the fire stairs? The old devil, wait till I see him again! I
’
ll have something to say to him about that!
’
and she went out, still softly chuckling.

Gwenny stared puzzled at the door. That was too natural to be put on, that astonishment, yet obviously Catherine Allen was a consummate actress, because whoever else had been on that fire stair, she certainly had. There was no mistaking her voice and her footsteps, especially after she had told Cosgrove she was coming in that way from the dance. Gwenny supposed that any nurse who went out with the R.M.O. would do her best to protect him from gossip, if she wanted to go out with him again.

On that disturbing day, Arthur Peake drifted in. The R.S.O. had no real need to come into Gwenny
’
s room, but he did, with a nice friendly grin, and a nice engaging explanation of why he should want to come in.

‘
I don
’
t want to cut any little bits off you—I just want to see what my friend Mark Bayfield has got in here, which seems of such interest. And now I know
!’

‘
Am I of such interest to him?
’
Gwenny asked, with a frown.
‘
Does that mean I
’
m going to be cured soon?
’

‘
Oh, come now, I didn
’
t say that, now did I?
’
he protested, sitting by her bed.
‘
In the first place, I doubt it, because you won
’
t come clean about what you
’
ve been up to! I know they all ask you from time to time, because I hear them saying so. How about confiding in me—what do you get up to in your spare time
?’

‘
You
’
re not very well up in your facts,
Mr.
Peake,
’
Gwenny said sourly.
‘
They haven
’
t told you that my life is one long round of spare time, and that no one cares whether I
’
m alive or dead, and that I go and bother complete strangers so I shall find someone to talk to, because it
’
s so lonely not being wanted.
’