Nurse Angela (14 page)

“Well, did you enjoy your walk?” Suzette asked, her glance going from one to the other.

Angela smiled and said it had been delightful. Simon remarked that the scenery was beautiful, but wouldn’t they like to go somewhere else?

“What about going on to Buxton? I believe there are some very nice gardens there where you can have tea.”

“But I’ve brought stacks of food with us!” Helen protested.

“We could have it for supper when we got back,” Simon said firmly.

Suzette looked at him thoughtfully and with new understanding. “I think that would be a good idea, Helen. I’d love to go on to Buxton. I want to see as many places as possible while I’m here.”

Angela was glad that no one tried to persuade her to sit in the front with Simon. She was slowly coming to feel that the more she was thrown into Simon’s comp
an
y, the more he seemed to dislike her, and the only way to obtain any peace of mind for herself would be to go right away from Lockerfield for a while. She could quite easily get a job elsewhere.

Suzette seemed to thoroughly enjoy every minute of the day. She kept up a constant chatter—exclaiming delightedly at the charming little villages they passed through in much the same way that Angela had on her visit to France. When at last they returned home, her eyes were sparkling and her small face was glowing.

“Well, today settles it,” she announced dropping into a chair. She looked around at them all, resting her gaze on Simon. “I have decided to come back to England to live!”

“Suzette, how wonderful!” exclaimed Angela.

“I'm so glad,” Helen said smiling.

Suzette looked at Simon, who made no comment. “Aren’t you pleased too, Simon?”

He shrugged. “If you’re doing it to please me, Mother, I’m afraid you’ve left it too late. I have decided to return to Paris.”

Utter dismay showed on the faces of the two older women. Helen protested gently, Suzette despairingly. Angela felt too sick to speak.

“I’m sorry if that upsets anyone,” Simon said, “but I’ve just about had enough of England. Now
t
hat my father’s name has been cleared I shall be able to settle down in a practice in France peacefully, and I hope, happily.”

“But I thought you were happily settled in England,” protested Suzette.

“Then you were mistaken.”

Suzette leaned forward. “Simon,” she said earnestly, “please think it over. I don’t mind saying this in front of Helen and Angela. In fact, I want them to hear, because it is largely due to them that I have come to realize the truth at last. What I want to say is that I’m truly sorry, Simon, for all the years I’ve neglected you, shut you out. I want you to know how bitterly I regret living so much i
n
the past—my past and your father’s. It was terribly wrong of me and I can see that now. Surely, it’s not too late to make amends—to care a little for you, make a home here in England for us both.”

Simon seemed to shrink farther back into the depths of his chair. “It is a little late for that, I’m afraid. Oh, I forgive you, if that’s what is worrying you, but as far as I’m concerned the past is dead, finished with. You come back to England to live, Mother, by all means if you want to, but it’s a little too late to want to make a home for me. At my age, a man wants a wife, not a mother. Surely you must realize that?”

“Simon, of course, I do. Nothing would make me so happy as to know you were going to marry someone who could give you what I failed to give.”

He stood up. “I’ll let you know the happy day, Mother. In the meantime, don’t worry about me in the least. Just make your own happiness. I hope to find mine where I was born.” He turned to Helen. “If you will excuse me, Mrs. Lindsay, I must go now. I want to be back at the hospital to do an early evening round. I promised Dr. Wilson that I would. Thank you very much for the day and for your hospitality.” His hand rested briefly on Suzette’s shoulder. “Good night, Mother. Don’t have me on your conscience; there’s nothing at all to forgive.” He turned his glance momentarily on Angela. “You will be returning to the hospital tomorrow, I suppose?”

She nodded dumbly, and he went out, Helen accompanying him to the front door. After a moment the sound of his car starting up could be heard, and Helen came back into the room.

“Well!” she said expressively.

Suzette shrugged her small shoulders. “I just don’t know what to make of him, Helen.”

Angela got up from her chair. “I think, if you don’t mind,
I’ll
go to my room for a while. I don’t feel like talking at the moment. It’s been a rather tiring day.”

Without waiting for a reply she went to her room and sat at her dressing table staring at her reflection in the mirror. She had known this would happen sooner or later, of course,
but
...
A wave of misery and hopelessness flooded over her, and unable to stem the flow of tears any longer, she buried her head in her arms and wept bitterly. He was going right out of her life altogether. He was going to find happiness and a wife in his own country. What more did one need than that? At last, the truth had been forced upon her.

Great sobs shook her, and such was her grief that she no longer cared whether anyone could hear her or not. She was beyond caring what either her mother or Suzette would think.

There was no need for explanation, however, when, unable to bear the sound of her daughter’s weeping any longer, Helen came into the room to put a comforting arm around her shoulders. Utterly spent, Angela raised her eyes and made a hopeless gesture.

“What can I do, Mother?”

“My dear,” she said gently. “Why not wash your face and put on your dressing gown and come and talk to Susan and me? We both understand so well what you’re going through, and you can rely on Susan not to divulge anything to Simon.”

Angela dried her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mother, giving way like this. Perhaps it
would
be good if I could talk about it.”

“Angela,
my dear...
”
Suzette rose from her chair as Angela entered the sitting room.

Angela smiled ruefully as she sat in one of the comfortable chairs and took the cup of tea Helen offered her. “I have given myself away, haven’t I?”

“So has Simon,” Suzette said quietly.

“Only too well.”

Suzette shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a couple as blind as you and Simon.”

Angela stared at her. “What do you mean, Suzette? I think Simon has made himself plain enough.”

“Listen to me, Angela. Simon is running
away ...
and he is running away from
you
!”

“Suzette, how can you say that?”

Suzette smiled. “Think it over, my dear. Just think it over.”

“I’ve thought about everything until my brain is reeling. It’s no use. It’s much better that I try to forget Simon.”

“Easier said than done, you know that.”

“Darling, didn’t you tell me that you and Simon had what you called a little romantic episode in Paris?” asked Helen.

“It was more than that to me, but to Simon it meant nothing and he has regretted it ever since.”

“But don’t you see? He thinks you’re in love with Roger.”

Angela stood up suddenly. “And do you know, Simon may be right after all,” she said.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Angela stepped off the bus at Lockerfield and stood for a moment in indecision. It was just lunchtime and she could reach the hospital within ten minutes. The restaurants in town would be crowded with shoppers. Still, she had no desire to face the rest of the sisters in the dining room at the moment with their questions about her so-called engagement to Simon. She turned her steps in the direction of Knifesmith’s Gate. She would go to the Salad Bowl.

How long, she wondered, did Simon intend keeping up the face? Still it could not be for long, in any case. He was returning to France. Last night, in spite of her words of bravado, she had tossed and turned thinking over all that Suzette and her mother had said. She had told them that Simon might be right about her being in love with Roger partly as a defense as well as bravado.

She did not want to start thinking of Simon again. She wanted to
conquer her infatuation for him, to forget him. Yet, last night she began to think, suppose Suzette was right after all? Suppose—and every time she thought of it her heart lifted unbearably—suppose it was she herself whom he wanted to marry? That he had really meant what he said that night up the Eiffel Tower? Perhaps he had thought it best to wait, at that time, until he had some information about his father. But again she had to remind herself that, though she had assured him that
she
set no store at all by what his father was, or was not, he had still gone on. And even when he had proved his father’s innocence, it had still made no difference. During that last week in Paris there had been a curious unhappiness underlying his gaiety. Why should that be if he loved her? There were so many things that did not fit with what Suzette and her mother would have her believe. True, he might think she was in love with Roger. She herself had told him in no uncertain terms that she intended accepting Roger’s proposal. Even so, that still did not prove he loved her. And what about Paulette? It was useless to say that she and Simon meant nothing to each other. She had seen them coming out of the jeweler’s with her own eyes, a new ring flashing on Paulette’s finger. Oh, it was hopeless, and she felt sick at heart. Why did Suzette and her mother have to stir up her feelings again. They were just a pair of matchmaking mothers, their assertions based on wishful thinking. If Simon loved her he would have found a way of letting her know. She would be glad when he had gone so that her feeling for Roger could blossom, unhampered, into the full flower of love.

The Salad Bowl was crowded and she looked around for an empty place. Then, just as she was giving up, she saw Debbie and Milly at a table in the far corner, and with them were Roger and Peter. Her first impulse was to turn away but Roger had seen her and was beckoning for her to join them.

“Sit here Angela,” he said putting an extra chair at the table. Debbie eyed her maliciously. “Hello, Angela. Congratulations on your engagement to the handsome Frenchman.”

“Don’t pay any attention to her, Angela,” Roger said quickly. He turned to Debbie. “I thought you said you were going, Debbie?”

“But, Roger,” she protested childishly. “I’m not in a hurry.”

Peter rose. “Come on, Debbie, do as your big brother tells you.” Peter led Debbie, protesting loudly, to the door.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Roger, really,” Angela said.

“Don’t worry, my dear. You have to be firm with someone like Debbie. She’s well used to such treatment and we’ve had quite enough of her for one day. Pete will see her off then come back. How went the day yesterday?”

Angela sighed heavily and wished she could unburden her heart. She sketched briefly the day at Monsal Dale. Milly listened, smiling, then presently excused herself and left them alone together.

Roger rested his hand lightly on Angela’s for a moment. “What was it
really
like, darling?”

“Very trying, one way and another.” She looked down at her plate. “Simon is leaving England and going back to Paris,” she said tonelessly.

“Oh? What is he going to do?”

“Practise medicine ... and marry Paulette.”

He toyed with a spoon. “That’s odd. I’m thinking of going to Paris to work myself. You remember I said I’d like to live there. I could easily keep up with my work here until I get more. I could send the drawings by mail and fly over when necessary. I wish I’d thought of it before.” There was a pause, then he said, “I’m sorry I got so het up about everything on Monday. I was wrong to be
so ... d
ictatorial, so demanding.” He looked at her searchingly. “You must be feeling pretty bad about LeFeure.”

Pride rose to her aid. “I shall survive. One doesn’t remain broken hearted forever.” She smiled thinly. “Pity you’re going to Paris. I might have been around to tell you I’m cured sooner than you thought.”

He looked at her sharply. “Come with me, Angela. Marry me.”

She caught her breath, then gave a long sigh. “Yes, Roger, I will,” she said quickly.

He grasped her hand. “Darling, that’s wonderful. Here comes Milly. Honestly, if you hadn’t said yes, I was going to ask her. I had decided that half a loaf would be better than none after all. I think Milly would have consented somehow, but as it is, she probably had a narrow escape from a fate worse than death. Good thing Pete isn’t here, all these
clichés
flying around.”

“What’s going on?” Milly asked as she came back to the table.

“What do you know,” said Roger. “Angela is going to marry me and come to Paris with me.”

A sharp flicker of surprise crossed Milly’s face. “Well, congratulations both of you,” she said in a bright, brittle voice. “I ought to hate you, Angela. I thought he was going to ask me.”

Roger laughed. “Don’t despair, Milly. There’s still old Pete.”

“I take it you’ve broken it off with the doctor first?” Milly said to Angela.

Angela looked at her watch. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave it to Roger to unravel the mysteries of that for you. I have to be getting back.”

Roger looked at his own watch. “Oh Lord, it’s nearly two. I can’t run you back, darling. I’ve an appointment for two o’clock. You don’t mind? I can’t put the man off. He has come up from London.”

“Of course. I don’t mind. Give me a call.”

Angela went on duty that night feeling rather like someone who has been granted a reprieve. She was going to marry Roger. She need no longer yearn for a love that could never be hers. Roger loved her and she loved him; not quite the same thing she had felt for Simon, but soon that episode would be nothing more than a memory that would
no
longer have the power to hurt her.

Matron greeted her briefly. “I think you’ll find you’re wanted on George the Sixth, Sister. We had an admission about half an hour ago—a hemophiliac. He needs a blood transfusion. Dr. LeFeure is up there ... and I expect the day staff will want to get off duty. The night nurse is there, of course, but the ward is extra busy. There has been an influx of admissions at the General, so they have filled us up.” She gave Angela an odd look as if she was about to say something else, but changed her mind. “I’ll leave you to get on with it, Sister. Good night.”

Angela glanced quickly down the report, then went upstairs. Screens stood around a bed near the door. Angela gently moved one aside, closing it behind her.

Simon glanced up briefly. “Good evening, Sister.”

“Good evening, doctor.”

She gave a swift glance at the patient’s pale, anxious face, the injured wrist and the pressure pads on the forearm. Because the man’s blood lacked a clotting agent, only prompt treatment would save him from bleeding to death. Her eyes took in the sterile trolley, the transfusion stand with its pint of blood attached to a length of rubber tubing that terminated at the needle Simon was already inserting into the man’s vein. Angela turned to the staff nurse who stood by the bed.

“You can go now, Nurse. I’ll carry on.”

“Thank you, Sister. If you need another splint, you’ll find one ready padded in the linen room.”

“Thank you, Nurse.”

Simon worked in silence and Angela stood by, ready to begin the steady drip of the new citrated blood. He glanced up and nodded, and she turned the screw of the apparatus, allowing the life-saving flow to begin. Simon straightened up and together they silently watched the slow rhythmic drips.

“Will you need the other splint, doctor?” she asked.

“I don’t think so, Sister, In any case, I’ll leave you to use your discretion. You’ll be keeping an eye on the flow for a while, so you can judge for yourself whether or not the patient is likely to be restless.”

He stood for a moment, watching the man’s arm at the point of the needle. Seeing no sign of congestion, he relaxed.

“He’ll be all right now, I think.”

He smiled down at the patient. “Don’t worry and try to sleep. If you can’t, let Sister know and we’ll give you something.”

He parted the screens and Angela beckoned to the night nurse.
“You
can move the screens, Nurse, and clear away the trolley. You’d better reset it when you have a spare minute, in case it’s needed again. Keep an eye on the drip. I shall be back later, but if there’s any sign of blockage, let me know immediately.”

She accompanied Simon to the door.

“You needn’t come any farther, Sister, if you’re busy. I’ll come back later when you’ve done the rest of your round.”

When they reached the top of the stairs, Angela’s heart was beating painfully. “I have to go down,” she said. “I’d like to start on the children’s wards.”

“As you like.”

They walked down the stairs in silence, and when they reached the bottom he gave her a brief nod, saying, “I’ll be back about 11,” and went out of the front door.

Angela sighed, then tightened her lips determinedly. She would rid herself of this effect he had on her whatever the cost. She would tell him about her engagement.

She went quickly on her round. Mercifully, the children were all asleep. At the door of Wendy she said to Nurse Hodgson, “Bring my tea just at 11 tonight, please, if you don’t mind. And bring two cups.” She gave what she meant as a conspiratorial smile. “Dr. LeFeure and I have something to talk over and we might as well drink a cup of tea at the same time.”

Nurse Hodgson smiled. “I’ll make a special brew, Sister.” Angela smiled to herself, a rather bitter smile, and went upstairs to visit the adult wards. Happily, the man having the blood transfusion was asleep and the flow was continuing in a steady drip. In spite of that, it was 11 o’clock by the time she had completed the round, and when she reached the office Simon was already there.

“How’s the transfusion going, Sister?” he asked in a cool, professional voice.

“It’s running beautifully and the patient is asleep.”

Nurse Hodgson brought in the tea and went out again. Angela felt her heart beating nervously as she said, “Will you have a cup, Simon?”

He glanced at her swiftly, and for a moment, Angela thought he was going to refuse. Then, with an air of resignation he pulled out his pipe and sat down in a corner chair. He eyed her almost warily as she handed him a cup of tea.

“Have you told Matron you’re leaving?” she asked.

He shook his head. “There’s time enough,” he said shortly.

“I’ll soon be leaving myself,
”
she said experimentally.

He drew furiously on his pipe. “Yes, I expect you will.”

Angela took a deep breath. “Roger and I—”

Before she could complete the sentence the telephone rang. She picked up the receiver to hear Roger’s voice. Simon got up to go, but she said quickly, “Please don’t go, doctor, I won’t keep you long.”

She must tell him now, she must.

“Hello, darling,” Roger said. “Did you mean what you said this morning? I still can’t believe it. I know you wouldn’t have said yes, though, unless you felt pretty sure ... that you’d get over the
other affair.”

“But of course I meant it, Roger. I’m putting the other affair right behind me.”

“That’s wonderful. When can I see you? We must buy the ring and arrange everything.”

“Yes, I ...
of course. Will tomorrow do?”

“I’ll pick you up at four-thirty.”

She put down the receiver and turned to Simon who was frowning heavily. But she had no sooner put the instrument down when it rang again. This time it was the nurse on George the Sixth.

“Right, Nurse, I’ll come at once,” she said. “The drip has stopped,” she told Simon. “I must go up.”

“I’ll come up with you,” he said, and in a strained silence they went upstairs together. Personal affairs would have to be shelved.

They went into the dim, silent ward. Most of the patients were asleep. The night nurse was standing at the man’s bedside looking up anxiously at the glass connection now half-filled and no sign of the steady drip. Simon looked at the arm. There was a slight swelling around the area of the needle.

“We’ll have to try the other arm, Sister.”

Quickly, preparations were made and the transfusion stand wheeled to the other side. They worked together in silence, intent now only in introducing the blood the man so desperately needed.

“Just a little more downward massage, Sister. I don’t dare cut down. Ah, that’s better.”