Nurse Angela (12 page)

So she reasoned, alternately wishing that her mother had not put her into such an embarrassing position and hoping that Simon would want to go and would ask her to go with him.

When she went on duty that night, however, to her great disappointment, Simon was not there. Tony Wilson came from the
General and the first thing he said to her was, “What’s this I hear about you and Simon getting engaged? Is it true? If so, I must congratulate you both and put in my application for ‘best man.’ I tried to get hold of Simon once or twice, but haven’t been able to manage it. I must go along and see if he’s in. I only heard today, by the way.”

“It’s been slow reaching you,” she said ironically. “It happened some days ago.”

“It’s true then? I doubted it when I first heard it, because I thought Simon would have told me himself.”

Angela bit her lip. “No, it’s not true,” she said crossly.

He raised his eyebrows. “You sound annoyed. What started the rumor?”

She sighed. “Somehow it got around that we’d both been to Paris and Matron buttonholed Simon about it, so he told her that we were engaged.”

“Oh, I see. To save your honor, I presume,” Tony said, a twinkle in his eye.

Angela winced. “You can put it that way if you like.”

“I take it you don’t like the situation?”

“Would you?”

He laughed. “If I were in Simon’s shoes, I wouldn’t mind a bit.”

She blushed faintly. “Well, I can assure you that Simon doesn’t like it any more than I do.”

Tony gave her a long look. “You’re sure about that?”

“Quite sure. In any case, I am practically engaged—really engaged—to someone else.”

“Hm. A ticklish situation. I shall be interested to see how it works out.”

“There’s only one way it
can
work out,” she retorted. “That is, to break off the pseudo engagement as soon as possible.”

Greatly to Angela’s surprise, Simon came to see her in his off-duty clothes just as she was on the point of going to the nurses’ residence.

“I thought I’d better come and see you about tomorrow,” he said without preliminary. “Your mother wants us to go over. I’m taking the morning off. If you’d like to be ready about nine, I could run you to Wendover. My mother has arrived.”

“Yes, I know. I had a letter this morning.”

He looked at her and her heart gave a painful leap as she noticed how strained he looked.

“I’d like you to come,” he said. “But if you’d rather not, I could go alone and give your excuses.”

“I’ll be ready at nine, and thank you.
I ...
I wouldn’t like to disappoint mother,
or ...
or Suzette.”

“No.”

At about midnight Roger phoned. “How are you, darling? Hope I’m not too early for you.”

“No. that’s all right. Did you enjoy the ballet?”

“Yes, rather. It was very good. Milly enjoyed it too. I was wondering if you’d like a drive tomorrow morning?”

Her heart contracted sharply.
“I ...
as a matter of fact, Roger, Madame LeFeure has arrived from Paris. Mother has written and asked Simon to run me over to Wendover. So, you see, Simon is taking me home in the morning. Of course, if you’d like to come with
us...”

T
here was a short silence. “No. No thanks, darling. In any case, come to think of it, I’d much rather not see you until Monday. Remember? I really only called to see how you were.”

“Yes, of course, I remember. Until Monday then.”

It seemed a long night. Angela did her routine rounds, checked drugs and injections and wrote her reports. When she walked over to the residence to call the day nurses, a cool misty dawn was breaking and the dew lay heavy on the grass. How peaceful the mornings were—how fresh and unspoiled. She thought of a verse, a favorite of someone she once knew. “And every morning seems to say, there’s something happy on the way
...
”
and a curious mixture of pain and joy filled her heart.

By the time she joined Simon, most of the mist had cleared. Simon opened the car door for her just as the day staff were coming over to the residence for coffee. Angela got in the car, acutely conscious of the significant glances that came her way.

Simon glanced at her flushed face. “I’m sorry, Angela. I didn’t think to say I’d wait outside the gates,” he muttered.

Angela shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Simon’s lips curved with some of their old bitterness as he started the car. Barely half a dozen words passed between them by the time they’d reached Helen Lindsay’s bungalow. When Angela opened the door of the sitting room there, as well as Suzette, was Paulette—looking utterly and completely ravishing.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“
Paulette!”

Behind her Angela heard Simon’s exclamation of delight and surprise, and before she had time to greet Paulette herself, he had advanced into the room and Paulette’s arms were about his neck.

“But how did this happen, you unpredictable woman!”

Paulette emitted a gay laugh. “It happen ... so quick,
chéri
.”

“She only telephoned me half an hour ago,” laughed Suzette.

Then, as Angela went forward to greet Suzette, Paulette and Simon began chattering away in French.

Suzette was overjoyed to see Angela again and already seemed quite at ease in Helen Lindsay’s home. It was still warm enough, by day, to have the French windows open and
later,
they sat by the open window and had coffee and homemade scones.

What did this sudden visit mean? Angela asked herself this question as the flow of conversation passed over her. Did it mean that Paulette was ready to marry Simon sooner than he thought? They conversed rapidly in French most of the time and Angela watched Simon’s animated expression through eyes desperately fighting back tears.

As soon as possible she made an excuse and went into her room to try to compose herself. She must get Simon out of her system. She must! When she went back into the sitting room again Simon and Paulette were out in the garden, still talking, heads together
.

Suzette breathed a deep sigh of contentment. “This is wonderful,” she breathed. “Living in Paris for so long I had almost forgotten how lovely an English garden can be.”

“Would you like to come back to England to live?” asked Helen.

“I’m not quite sure, Helen,” she said slowly. Then her bright smile flashed in Angela’s direction. “Don’t you ever long for your own place, Angela?”

Angela’s head turned sharply.
“I ...
not really. Why should I? I’m happy enough in my job, otherwise I probably would hanker after a place of my own. But at present, I’m perfectly satisfied as long as I can come home fairly often.
”

“Don’t attach too much importance to your work, my dear,” Helen Lindsay put in. “There may come a time when, quite suddenly, nursing no longer satisfies you.”

Angela turned imploring eyes to her mother. “Perhaps that time will come one day, Mother, but in the meantime, my work means everything to me.”

The tension in her voice fell heavily in the room and a brief silence ensued. Time enough, Angela thought dully, to tell them of her engagement to Roger when it was an established fact.

Presently, Paulette and Simon came indoors, Paulette looking radiantly happy. Abruptly, Angela rose to her feet.

“I think I should be getting back, Mother. I’m really ready for some sleep.” She glanced briefly at Simon.

“I’m ready,” he said. “Paulette is coming into town too.”

“When are you coming for your nights off, Angela?” Helen asked. “Perhaps we could all go out somewhere for a day.” Angela wondered if her m
o
ther was including Simon and Paulette in the “all.”

She said desperately
“I’
m seeing Roger on Monday.”

“Oh, are you, dear?” Helen murmured disappointedly. “Well what about Tuesday? Susan Wants to see you, you know.”

“Yes, mother, and I think Susan, as you call her, would like to meet Roger. I’ll bring him down.”

Helen gave an inward sigh. Why was Angela being so difficult this morning? She glanced at Simon, but he evaded her look and seemed anxious to be off.

A
s they all moved toward the door, Helen said to Simon, “Come whenever you can while your mother is here. Don’t wait for Angela.”

Automatically, Angela climbed into the back of the car, leaving Paulette to sit in front with Simon. No comment was made.

Again, Simon and Paulette chattered in French, while Angela sat buried in her own thoughts. It seemed obvious that if Simon’s unhappy mood in Paris was due to Paulette putting off their marriage, they had now come to some agreement. Paulette would hardly travel all the way to England to see him if it were not important. Why, oh why had he flirted with her in Paris if he had serious intentions toward another woman? A swift anger rose within her, then subsided again. Perhaps he had been just
generalizing about marriage until he met Paulette again that morning in Suzette’s flat. Of that evening in the Champs de Mars and the rest of her stay in Paris, she tried not to think as she watched the animated expressions flitting across Paulette’s lovely face—the face of a woman radiantly happy and in love.

Presently, a sudden application of brakes brought her from the depths of her thoughts and she realized that Simon had brought the car to a stop outside the hospital gates.

“I’m taking Paulette to lunch,” he said, turning his head. “Would you mind getting out here?
”

“Not at all.”

Paulette turned a dazzling smile on her and said, half in French, half in English, “Please forgive my bad manners, speaking in French to Simon all this time, but there is much to tell and I do not speak English very well.”

Angela forced a smile. “That’s quite all right. Goodbye, Paulette. Thank you for running me back, Simon.”

Wearily, Angela went to bed, too numb and worn out to think any more and too shattered to peer any longer onto her aching heart.

That evening, instead of coming to her office as usual, Simon called her on the telephone.

“Do you want me for anything, Sister?” he asked formally. “I’ll come over if you do, but Sunday is usually uneventful and I did a full round earlier on.”

“No, there’s nothing I want, thank you. Everybody is quite comfortable.”

There was a slight pause, then he abruptly said good night and hung up.

Angela was almost relieved when at last she hurried down the driveway to meet Roger the next morning. He represented normality, sanity and serenity.

“How’s everything?” he asked as he drove to his apartment.

She laughed a trifle hysterically. “Well, that’s a lot to answer all at once. For one thing, Suzette LeFeure seems to be enjoying her stay with my mother. I said I might take you home tomorrow to meet her.”

He gave a sharp look. “What about Simon? Wouldn’t it be
more ...
appropriate shall we say, if he went with you?”

“Oh now, Roger, please,” she protested. “Don’t you join forces against me.”

“I, join forces against you? That’s the last thing I want to do, believe me.”

“Then you’ll come home with me tomorrow?”

He hesitated. “We’ll decide that later on, shall we, darling?”

“Yes, of course.”

She thought she knew what was behind that remark. Today, he wanted her definite answer and if it was no, he probably would rather not go home with her.

“
Is Peter in to lunch?” she asked as Roger drew up outside his place.

“No, he had to go out. I’ve arranged a cold lunch for us. Melon, cold chicken, Russian salad and fruit and cream. How’s that?”

“Sounds lovely. Oh, Roger, it’s good to be here with you, away from everything and everybody for a while.”

“Things been bothering you?” he asked casually as he drew out a chair for her.

“Yes, they have rather. After lunch, I shall unburden my soul and avail myself of your manly comfort.”

She was not feeling as lighthearted as she tried to sound by any means. It was not going to be easy to explain to Roger how she had managed to become engaged to another man, especially at a time when he was still waiting for an answer to his own proposal. In spite of his capacity for understanding, Roger could be, on occasions, quite unpredictable. And Angela felt she had had quite enough of tension and temperament of late.

They talked of this and that; then after lunch, they washed the dishes while the coffee softly perked on the stove. Angela had reached the last dregs of her second cup of coffee when it dawned on her how very quiet Roger was. In fact, he had not been quite his normal self during the whole time they had been together. Now he sat silently regarding her. Angela had rather expected that he would be anxious to hear her answer, but he seemed to be waiting for her to say something, which indeed he was.

“I’m waiting for you to ‘unburden your soul,’ so that I can duly comfort you,” he said with a touch of his usual humor.

“I ...
I hardly know where to begin,” she said hesitantly.

He smiled. “Begin at the beginning. That’s always a good idea.” The beginning. It began, she thought, with Simon offering me a lift to the airport and ended with a mock engagement. She collected herself. Roger was quietly waiting for her to start.

“The truth is,
Roger..
.
”
she began. The she started again. “You remember the morning I phoned you from the residence? I said something casual about Paris and Simon—Dr. LeFeure?”

“Yes?”

“Well, apparently, someone overheard the conversation—our public phone in the residence isn’t in a booth you know—anyway, whoever it was, must have been hiding somewhere out of sight. I didn’t see anyone. The next thing I knew, or rather, the next thing that happened was—”

“The balloon went up?”

“Yes. As you so aptly put it, the balloon went up. Naturally, when I returned from my holiday, some of the sisters wanted to know all about Paris. I told them as much as
thought ...
er wise—”

“And you didn’t think it ‘wise’ to mention Simon’s name?”

“It obviously wasn’t, because, when it did reach Matron’s ears—I suspect, via Sister Hughes—she tackled Simon about it. Said we’d caused a scandal.”

“And I suppose while all this was happening, you were innocently sleeping in your bed,” Roger commented with slight irony.

“Yes. And the shock came, as it were with delayed action.”

“Yes?” Roger prompted.

“Yes. Matron congratulated me on my engagement. I immediately thought of you, of course—”

He leaned over and pressed her hand. “Bless you. Go on, darling. Tell me the rest.”

She glanced at him sharply, vaguely puzzled by the way he was taking it. She had virtually told him that their engagement was on.

She continued, “It wasn’t until Simon came on the round that I realized exactly what had happened—what had been said.” Roger sat very still, listening intently. “Apparently, Simon had told Matron that he and I were engaged. He—”

“Yes, I know,” Roger said quietly.

She looked at him startled. “You ... you know? What do you mean, Roger? You mean you guessed what was coming?”

“I mean I already knew. Someone else told me, but I wanted to hear it from you yourself.”

“But who could possibly have told you?”

“Debbie,” he said briefly.

“Debbie?” she repeated stupidly. “But how—?”

“It so happens that Debbie knows somebody-that-knows-somebody who works at the General. It’s on everybody’s tongue apparently that you and Dr. LeFeure are engaged to be married.”

“Roger! Oh, Roger, I’m so terribly sorry you heard it like that.
It ...
it never even occurred to me that you would hear of it before I had a chance to tell you.”

“It wouldn’t, of course. Naturally, Debbie phoned me the minute she heard it. I didn’t believe it at first, but in the end I had to. I thought there’d be some explanation, of course.”

Angela gave a sigh of relief. “I knew you’d understand, Roger.”

“But I don’t know that I do understand, quite.”

“But surely, I’ve explained—”

“I just don’t see why Simon found it necessary to take that line—to say that you and he were engaged. Oh, I suppose he thought it would make things seem more ‘proper,’ but I wouldn’t have thought two people in your positions would need to resort to such an outrageous deception. Surely it would have been sufficient merely to tell the truth—that you discovered you were going to Paris on the same day and that he gave you a lift. Personally, I think you were silly to keep it a secret in the first place. People only gossip and conjecture when they don’t know.”

Angela listened in uncomfortable silence. The way Roger put it brought the whole thing down to something that could quite simply have been avoided. She had a sneaking feeling he was right but felt curiously on the defensive.

“If we’d told the truth nobody would have believed us. You’ve no idea what it’s like in a hospital community where people live together as well as work together. I’m sure Simon did it for the best.”

“Was that your immediate reaction?”

“No, it wasn’t. I was very annoyed indeed. I told Simon he must see Matron and retract the statement. But after talking to one of the other sisters, I decided to leave well enough alone.”

“And what do you propose to do about it now?”

“It’s quite simple, really. Just wait until the first excitement has died down, then break it off.
That’s the only thing we can do.”

“You’re not going to find it easy. The next talking point will be: when is the wedding to take place. People will not let the subject drop so easily.”

She gave a short laugh. “Don’t meet difficulties halfway, Roger. You forget that I virtually work alone. I’m the only sister on night duty. I see very little of the others. I can avoid them altogether if I wish.”

“But that won’t stop them talking will it? It didn’t and it won’t.”

She looked at him. “You seem to be taking a very serious view of this, Roger. You surprise me.”

His eyes widened. “And how did you expect me to take it? You seem to have forgotten that I’ve asked you to marry me.”

“I have by no means forgotten, Roger. In fact, I told Simon—Dr.
LeFeure—
that ... that...
”
She faltered.

“Yes, Angela? What did you tell him?”

She felt on the verge of tears.
“You ...
you’re not making things very easy for me, Roger. You asked me to marry you. I was going to say ‘yes’ today. I told Simon that. Now, you no longer seem interested.”

He clapped his hands on his knees. “Oh, darling, if only you had said that some weeks ago! But you can’t possibly be engaged to more than one man at a time, can you?”

She looked at him astonished. “But, Roger! I’m
not
engaged to Simon!”

“Are you suggesting that you and I have a ‘secret’ engagement?
I
may be a little unconventional about some things, but on the question of my engagement to you, I want all the trimmings. I also want marriage and I want it soon. I can’t love you from afar. I want the right to love you openly and I want your wholehearted love in return. You were going to say ‘yes’ to me today. Why, Angela, why? Can you say with real conviction, can you say from your very depths that you love me? Can you?”

There was a passion and intensity in his voice that frightened her. She stared at him in silence for a moment. Then a torrent of hopelessness engulfed her.

“I don’t know, Roger. I just don’t
know...
”
she whispered brokenly.

He took her by the shoulders and almost shook her. “Then why, in heaven’s name were you going to say you’d marry me? Were you sorry for me or something? Was that it? You can’t build a marriage on pity!”

“I’m sorry, Roger. I suppose it wasn’t really fair to you, but
I ... I
thought that if our engagement was made
definite ...
I really am fond of you, and—”

“Anything but love me,” he said bitterly.

“Love would have come.”

“Love isn’t something you can command. I was wrong to try to persuade you—some would call it trying to win you. But I thought that if I gave you a little time you might sort your feelings out a little. I know love isn’t always easy to recognize in its early stages. And, I suppose at the back of my mind was the idea that I had enough love for the two of us—like many a fool before me. If you want a thing badly enough you can talk yourself into believing anything.”

He picked up a sketchbook and began to draw rapid, furious lines, then threw it down. Striding over to the window, he stood looking out, hands thrust deep into his pockets. Angela watched him wretchedly.

He swung around. “You know there’s something mighty odd about this whole business—this bogus engagement of yours to Simon LeFeure. It’s almost as though he has done it purposely, as though—” he broke off abruptly.

Angela stared at him wide-eyed. “What do you mean, Roger?”

He strode across the room to her. “I mean that the man’s in love with you, as you are with him!”

It was as much as she could do to stop herself from crying out with pain. Oh, God, if only it were true.

“You’re wrong, Roger,” she cried in anguish. “He’s going to marry Paulette, a French girl—”

He jerked his head around. “Oh really?” He put his hands on her shoulders, but gently this time. “And you? You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

His blue eyes searched hers intently. With something like a sob she broke away from him.

“So it’s true,” he said almost to himself.

She turned to face him. “Don’t you see?” she almost wept. “I don’t want it to be true. It’s just infatuation, it must be! I want it to be, for our sake.”

“Darling
...
”
He took her in his arms and held her close. “Darling, as soon as you find out, come to me, for I’ll always love you.”

Pain and anguish tearing at her heart, she left him, feeling utterly desolate and unwanted. Simon was going to marry Paulette and Roger had thrust her acceptance of his proposal back into her face. Barely looking where she was going she dodged among the crowd of shoppers along the busy pavement. Then, as if providence wanted to further add to her unhappiness, she saw, scarcely two yards away, Simon coming out of a jeweler’s, Paulette on his arm happily admiring a ring on her finger, which flashed in the afternoon sun.

Blindly, Angela turned away and almost fell into a seat on a bus, which happened to be standing nearby.