Nurse Angela (5 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Angela gave a
gasp of surprise. “Dr. LeFeure, that’s awfully
kind o
f you, but—”

A shadow crossed his face. “But again? Is the idea of my company so very unattractive or is there someone—Roger perhaps—who would object?”

“Of course not. I just want to be sure that you’re not asking me merely out of politeness. The wrong company can be very tiresome on a long journey. And in case you’re tempted to misunderstand that statement, I meant myself as the possible tiresome one.” She felt an entire disregard for hospital etiquette. He laughed and she was almost startled at the sound.

“Well, that’s one thing clear,” he said. “As for my asking you out of politeness, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. Actually, if you can stand my company you’ll be doing me a favor. I hate traveling long distances alone.”

“In that case, Doctor, I shall be very glad to accept your invitation, that is, if I can book a seat at this late hour.”

“Would you like me to get in touch with the airline for you? I might be able to pull a string or two. You simply must come now.”

She smiled. “You’re making things very easy for me.”

“If I can do that, I will with pleasure. It will merely be your just reward for all you do for the people here.”

Knowing how much in advance holidays were usually arranged these days, Angela did not expect Simon to be able to get a seat at all, still less on the same day. But he surprised her by getting her a seat on the very same plane as himself.

“How on earth did you manage it?” she asked.

“The usual thing,” he told her. “Someone had canceled a booking. The cancellation had not actually been on the same plane, of course, but the booking clerk fixed that for me. It simply meant transferring someone else to a later plane. Don’t worry,” he said as he caught sight of a tiny frown on her forehead, “it wasn’t anyone with an important appointment.”

Angela could scarcely believe this was happening—suddenly to be several days in Simon LeFeure’s company. Of course, it was largely coincidence she told herself. It was natural enough that he should be going to France and, of course, natural that he should offer her a drive when he knew she was going. He would no doubt have made the same offer to anyone. All the same, she could not suppress a lift of her heart at the thought of the journey.

When she told Roger of Simon’s invitation, he was astounded, startled and outraged all at the same time.

“What!” he cried in an alarming falsetto. “You mean to tell me he’s inveigled you into going to Paris with him?”

“Don’t be silly,” she laughed. “I’m not ‘going to Paris with him.’ He’s merely giving me a lift to the airport.”

“Hm,” he snorted. “And then to Paris. And of course, you can bet your life on both journeys back. I tell you, he’s nothing less than a wolf.” He glared at her, but well used, by now, to these violent reactions of Roger’s, Angela merely smiled in return.

He fumed in silence for a minute, then said with a slight smile. “I’m as jealous as hell, Angela. I wish I’d carried you off that night or asked you to marry me properly
or
...
or something,” he finished lamely.

Suddenly, he got up, pulled a footstool close to her chair and sat down taking her hand in his.

“Darling, this is serious, really serious. I’ve wanted to ask you, but didn’t feel I had enough to offer you. Will you consider marrying me, Angela? Will you?”

“Why,
Roger
...
”
His eyes were more serious than she had ever seen them and in their
depths
...

“I love you, Angela. Did I have to tell you?”

“Roger,” she whispered. “I—” A strange emotion robbed her of words. Dear, light-hearted Roger, really loved her. Even th
o
ugh at one time she had suspected it, it still seemed incredible. Her eyes softened. Impulsively, she touched his cheek.

“Will you?” he asked again.

“Roger, I hardly know what to say. I think your feelings have grown ahead of mine. I’m very fond of you, Roger. In fact, my affection for you increases every day, but I don’t know whether it’s strong enough yet for marriage.”

She gazed at him anxiously. She did not want to hurt him. He smiled ruefully and patted her hand. “All right, darling. I’ll just have to keep on asking you, that’s all, and keep my fingers crossed while you’re away.”

“Roger,” she protested laughing. “What on earth are you driving at? Dr. LeFeure and I will probably be bored to death with each other. At best, I expect we’ll talk shop.”

Paris! Angela’s excitement grew as the days flew quickly by. She flung herself into a flurry of shopping and sewing, planning and replanning what clothes to take and what not to take. The weather was fine and warm and according to the prophets was likely to remain so for a week or two. So, for traveling in Simon’s car, she chose a light, uncrushable dress in navy and white Egyptian cotton and a short coat in white cuddle cloth in case it turned chilly in the evenings. To wear with the dress, she bought the tiniest of navy blue hats in light straw, which would set off her light blond hair, and a pair of comfortable navy sandals and handbag to match. It was a color that would not quickly show the dust and dirt of travel. For sightseeing in Paris, she made—with the help of her mother—two suits of heavy shantung in matching designs and colors so that they could be interchangeable and two cocktail dresses, one of fine wool, the other of soft chiffon. She pondered for a long time as to whether or not she would really need an evening gown, and in spite of the very remote possibility of anyone inviting her to a ball or some other formal evening, she decided to make one in layers of nylon net. Simple to make, but beautifully effective and easy to pack.

When, inevitably, the rest of the ward sisters learned she was going to Paris, Angela was treated to a good deal of teasing. In vain, she protested that she was going alone. For Simon’s sake, she made no mention of his offer of a lift, and indeed no one even seemed to be aware that he was taking his holiday at that time.

It was not until her last night of duty before her holiday that Matron said; “I consider it very regrettable indeed that Dr. LeFeure is going to be away at the same time as you, Sister. Of course I know that Dr. Wilson is reliable, but with a relief sister on night duty
too
...
I must say it’s most inconsiderate of Dr. LeFeure. He kept very quiet about it too ... or he made up his mind suddenly. I would have asked you to change your date had I known sooner. It’s too late to do anything about it now, however, what with all the shuffling around it would mean. In any case, I’m told you’re going abroad, so I expect you have everything arranged.”

“Yes, Matron, I have.”

“Oh well, I suppose we’ll have to make the best of it. None of the night nurses are on holiday, that’s one consolation. Good night, Sister.”

Simon was not on duty that evening, his place being taken by Dr. Wilson who spent half his time at Kirkwhite and the other half at the General. He knew most of the patients at Kirkwhite so that, actually, Matron’s anxieties were groundless.

“Old fusspot,” Tony Wilson said disrespectfully. “Simon told me months ago what date he was going away, and after all, it concerns me most. I’ve got his work to do. I don’t blame him for not broadcasting his comings and goings. He’s going to Paris—so are you. What a time the gossips would have if they knew.”

Angela gave an amused smile. “Do you know?”

“Know what?” he asked in a hoarse stage whisper.

“That we’re traveling to Paris together.”

“No. Are you?” He rubbed his hands. “My, that’s a tasty piece of scandal if you like. That would make the place hum.”

“Oh, don’t exaggerate, and don’t you dare say a word,” she threatened. “You’re the only one in the hospital who knows.”

“What a pity. It would have been fun. Seriously, though, I hope you thoroughly enjoy yourselves. I’m all for people just doing what they want without being afraid of what people will say. I think gossip should be counted as one of the seven deadly sins—it’s nearly always spiteful. No matter how unblemished someone’s character may be, a trip like this would soon become an affair of the worst kind by the time the gossips were through.”

“I suppose so. But good heavens, you have me worried now. Put so baldly, we do seem to be laying ourselves open to criticism.”

Tony laughed. “Nonsense. I wouldn’t worry if I were you. If you haven’t told anyone, I don’t see how they can ever know.”

“I hate having anything to hide.”

He flashed her a quick look. “You don’t have anything to hide, do you?”

“Not, not really, but—”

“Well then. You’re wise to keep this to yourselves. If you know from experience that people put a wrong construction on things, the only thing to do is not to tell them anything. They’re not fit to know the truth if
they will throw mud. You and Simon have a good time and enjoy each other’s company. You’ll probably find you have a lot in common.”

This conversation rather worried Angela. She had not given a great deal of thought to how it would look to an outsider, she and Simon traveling to Paris together. Dr. Wilson had certainly put the situation startlingly clear. She had kept quiet about it, more by instinct than by deliberate intention. An instinct born, unfortunately, by previous experience, even if only of the vague, general kind. What a pity you couldn’t be really honest with people, she thought. Yet, if you couldn’t, was the thing you were doing really right? This thought nagged her for quite some time. It would be dreadful if a wrong construction were put on such a simple matter like two people travelling to the same place together.

By morning, however, she had succeeded in shaking free of her fears and went off duty with a lift of excitement. Her other luggage had been taken home previously, by easy stages. So now all she had to do was pack a small case and catch a bus for home. To be fresh for the journey to the airport, she’d planned to spend her first night there. As soon as she got home, however, her mother packed her off to bed until lunchtime; then Angela spent the afternoon and evening in last-minute pressing and packing. Simon had arranged to call for her at eight o’clock the next morning, which was Saturday, and Helen Lindsay was looking forward very much to meeting him. She had been delighted when Angela told her she was to travel down with him and had already decided that she was going to like him. Angela felt sure she would not be disappointed.

He called promptly at eight o’clock, and Angela was ready waiting for him. He shook hands with Helen and accepted the cup of coffee she offered. Angela went to pick up her coat.

“It’s very good of you to trust your daughter in my hands, Mrs. Lindsay,” he said.

Helen smiled. “I have every faith in my daughter’s judgment, Dr. LeFeure. She would not have accepted your invitation had she not liked and trusted you.”

“You have a very wonderful daughter, Mrs. Lindsay,” Simon said solemnly.

“
I know,” she answered simply.

They drove off in the cool, early-morning sunshine.

“Have you been abroad much? Sister?” Simon asked.

“Not at all, I’m afraid,” Angela said ruefully. “It doesn’t look as though I’ve shown a great deal of initiative, does it?”

He smiled. “I expect you’ve had your mind on other things. When you take an interest in your job you don’t give a lot of thought to your holiday until it’s almost on top of you. You very nearly missed this trip, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I would have ‘missed the boat’ altogether if it hadn’t been for you, Doctor.”

He half turned his head. “Don’t you think we could drop the ‘doctor’ and ‘sister’ business, at least while we’re on holiday?”

She smiled. “Why yes, I’ll be glad to. My name is Angela.”

He gave her a smiling glance. “Yes, I know. Mine is Simon.” There was a moment’s pause. Then he said, “I’m really delighted that you consented to drive down with me, Angela. I’ve wanted to get to know you better for some time, but one way and another
... A
nyway, this will be a very good opportunity. I do hope you enjoy your first trip to Paris, but then you’re bound to. Paris is every bit as wonderful as the romantics say it is. Perhaps you’ll allow me to show you something of it myself.”

“I’d love it. You know Paris well, of course. Have you been there recently?”

His eyes clouded. “It’s a year or so since I was there, though my mother still lives there in spite of the fact that she is English. I have tried many times to persuade her to come back to England to live and let us
forget
...
Paris, but she prefers to stay where she is.”

“And your father?”

The query was out before she could stop it. With her heart beginning to pound she waited for his reply.

“He died during the war,” he said harshly.

Angela wished fervently that she had not spoken. If it were true that his father collaborated with the Nazis during the war, the subject would naturally be painful to him. She glanced at his set face and her heart contracted with pity.