Nurse Trent's Children (18 page)

Dear Miss Trent, This is an apology for my behavior last night; a regret for any misconception it may have brought
...

“You are wrong,” said Cathy proudly. “You are
very
wrong, Mrs. Dubois.”

“Really?” The eyes were still suspicious.

“It is altogether different. I mean ... I mean, it’s Mr. Kennedy, it’s David. I thought you might have guessed.”

A moment’s silence, then again Fayette’s soft laugh. “So that’s the way the wind blows.”

“You won’t tell anyone
...
It’s not official. There have been no words between us.” Why was she babbling like this? What was she saying? Why did it have to be said?

Fayette was becoming the gracious lady. “I shall be shod in silence,” she promised, but Cathy knew she would be silent no longer than it suited her, and she stood on the bottom step, biting her lip.

What had made her speak out like that? Had it been the urgency to be rid and rid quickly of Fayette Dubois? Or had it been the old, old weapon of retaliation used against Jerry Malcolm? No woman cares to be spurned, even though she had found in herself no real emotion, only a deep dislike.

Her head was aching. She dreaded returning to the house for postmortems with Fergie and Elvie. She dreaded finding Rita. Most of all she dreaded seeing David, dear dependable David, she dreaded the ordeal of admitting how she had compromised him. For she would have to tell him. She realized that. If she did not confess it, he would learn it elsewhere—and very soon.

That “shod in silence” meant nothing to Fayette Dubois. Already, suspected Cathy bitterly, she would be taking off those silent shoes.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It was lesson night f
or Cathy the following evening, but she had no intention of attending.

When she did not hurry over the meal, Elvira said in surprise, “It’s yo
u
r class day. Have you forgotten?”

“If you mean am I going to the office, the answer is no.”

“But why, Aunty Cathy?”

Cathy said lamely, “I’ve gone through the manual. The only thing needed now is review. I can do that just as well here.”

Elvira looked dubious.
“
Does Dr. Jerry know?” she asked, to which Cathy made no reply, pretending she had not heard. She went up to her room, put on her thick gray dressing gown over her dress, curled up on the bed and opened her books.

Her mind was not on her work. There were too many diversions. Besides all the disturbing things that had happened to crowd her brain, the nearness of the children kept her attention wandering. She saw now that Dr. Malcolm had been right when he had insisted that she study away from Redgates. Twice she got up to take in drinks of water that ordinarily the girls would have fetched themselves. Avery, hearing her despite her efforts to be silent, began to cough and complain of another sore throat.

“...
Blood coagulation time,” Cathy repeated aloud to herself. Downstairs the phone pealed. “Oh, no,” she pleaded, it can’t be, it
mustn’t
be him.”

It was.

She knew that by the bright lift in Elvira’s voice. Elvie loved her Dr. Jerry. Presently the woman called to her up the stairs.

Still hugged in the dressing gown, Cathy came down.

“It’s teacher,” giggled Elvira. “You’re in trouble for playing hooky.”

Cathy did not reply. She went and took up the receiver.

“Miss Trent here.”

He did not acknowledge her.

“Why are you not at your lesson?” was his unadorned greeting.

“I am reviewing at home.”

“Oh, so you now consider yourself up to the stage when only review is necessary?”

“I’ve been through the manual.”

“And failed badly more times than you have passed.”

“Naturally I am concentrating on my weaker chapters.”

“Some were not even that, they were nonexistent. Your ‘Law Regarding Poisons’ paper I received last week would not rate one mark.”

“What is this all about?” demanded Cathy frigidly.

“My good woman, the exam is in exactly ten days. If
you
feel confident, it’s something I don’t feel with you. What on earth has got into you, you little fool? You know you can’t study there. Pack your books and come straight over.”

“I’m not coming.”

“Why?”

“I don’t consider that is necessary any longer.”

“Oh, so it’s
Nurse
Trent now, is it?”

Cathy did not reply.

“Are you sulking because of my letter?” he persisted brutally. This time she did not reply for sheer rage.

“Perhaps you did not want an
apology. Perhaps you would have preferred a repetition
...
”

She knew if she did not speak he would continue in the same ruthless vein.

“It is not that at all,
”
she protested.

“What else then? Surely Fayette was not correct when she informed me that sweet romance had claimed you.”

The sarcasm in his voice nettled her. Sharply she answered, “Why not?”

“Several reasons. One, your impending examination. Wouldn’t it be wiser to get that off your chest before you start anything else? There is another reason again.”

“Give it to me.”

“Don’t be so greedy. You want everything at once, don’t you? This time you’re not getting it. I’ll keep the other reason for a future occasion. You have not answered my question, Miss Trent. Are you staying away because of David Kennedy?”

“I told you before I am up to the stage of review.”

“And I told you before you are not even up to the stage of having properly studied the book. Be over here within twenty minutes or I’ll come myself and drag you. That’s a promise, not a threat.” He laughed as he added this, replacing the receiver.

She stared at her own receiver rather bleakly. She knew Malcolm well enough now to realize he only spoke as he would act. If she did not go over he would come, as he had said, and get her. With a shrug of resignation she went up the stairs.

Elvira was watching her gleefully.

“Dr. Jerry always gets what he wants, doesn’t he?” she grinned.

For once Cathy felt irritable with Elvira. She took off the dressing gown, pulled on her coat, took up her satchel, and once more descended the stairs.

For a long moment she stood in the cold wintry moonlight pondering over Jerry’s “Surely Fayette was not correct when she informed me that sweet romance had claimed you.” So Mrs. Dubois’s feet, “shod with silence,” had soon lost those shoes. Cathy had expected that.

Another disquieting thought took possession of her. If Fayette had told Dr. Malcolm, it was quite possible that other people knew, too—among them David himself.

Resolutely but distastefully she turned in the direction of the boys’ block. This was the moment she had dreaded and delayed—the ordeal of confession to David, who did not deserve to be dragged into all this. It was too bad that she had ever spoken as She had, too bad that Fayette had spread the news.

David and the bigger boys were in the gymnasium. A crude ring had been made, and he was teaching ten-year-old Leonard the art of self-defense.

He saw her coming, took off his gloves, and laced them on young Neil.
He appointed Andrew referee, then turned to the girl.

“Want to see me, housemother?”

“Please.”

They went out to the hall together.

“David, I have to go across for a lesson.”

“I thought you weren’t going.”

“I wasn’t, only Dr. Malcolm rang up and said I wasn’t nearly
advanced enough and that there were too many diversions trying to study here at home.”

“Are there?”

She glanced away. “Avery has a cough,” she admitted lamely.

“So Dr. Malcolm is right. It is not the best place to study?”

In a gust of resentment Cathy flung, “Whether he is right or not, I’m
ordered
to go across. David, will you take me?”

He hesitated a moment. That was not the eager good-natured David she knew and liked. She looked at him questioningly.

He did not enlighten her. After the barest of pauses he said, “Right you are, Aunty Cathy. The boys are occupied for an hour, so we’ll push off. Car or walk?”

“Walk.”

The moon was obliterated now with gray cloud. A slight drizzle of feathery rain had made a veil over the world.

“It should be the car,” advised David, looking at the sky.

“It’s nothing,” urged Cathy, s
n
uggling into her coat, and they started off.

They talked shop for a few moments—the problem of Rita, the problem of Andrew, who had been started in plumbing and was not settling down as he should, the future problem of Denise. Then Cathy stumbled, “David, I—I, well
...
”

He looked at her squarely and rather sternly, then suddenly his face softened and he said roughly, “Don’t upset yourself, Cathy. I know what you’re trying to say.”

“Do you?”

“The usual grapevine that thrives in all such places as Redgates has been busy entwining our two names. Is that it?”

“Yes, David. Only the fault is mine. I started it.”

He raised his brows at that.

Quickly she told him about the scene with Mrs. Dubois.

“I don’t know why I brought you into it, David. I seemed at sea, and you were the right mooring.”

“Right mooring—or temporary shelter?” he flung bitterly. Then instantly, “Forget that, Cathy. I shouldn’t have said it. Pay no attention to me. So Fayette is giving orders
out
of the house as well as
in
now, is she? You are ordered to drop Malcolm like a hot brick.”

Cathy said angrily, “I never held him.”

“No?” His grave eyes were on her again in silent question. All at once, to her annoyance, she was turning her own glance away.

“I see,” he said quietly, and Cathy protested.

“You don’t see at all. It was all a mistake. I’m sorry it happened, but I’m more sorry again that I brought you into it.”

“You mean that was a rnistake,
too...”

She hesitated, meeting his eyes now. They were bramble-colored eyes, clear and frank as any of his young boys’. There was honesty there, sincerity, kindness. There was a harbor, not a temporary shelter.

“Oh, David,” she said with a half sob, “you wouldn’t want
me
.”

“Not want you, Cathy?” He had stopped abruptly on the deserted road, and Cathy, perforce, stopped, too.

“Not want you?” he repeated a little hoarsely. “Listen, my dear, if every man in the world had turned you down and you came to me, all I could do would be kneel down and count my blessings.”

He paused, then said, “But Malcolm didn’t turn you down, did he?”

“No,” answered Cathy, then she said. “Yes. Oh, I don’t know.
Yo
u see, there wasn’t anything.
I
just told you.”

They began walking again.

Presently, David said in his old cheerful strain, “Well, the apology is accepted, Cathy, also the explanation. I’ll let you off with a caution.”

“A caution?”

“Not to let it happen again, or I might take you up on it. How would you like that?”

She looked at him soberly. “I would be deeply honored.”

“But not enchanted...”

Enchanted ... a voice within her echoed the word. The cold hearth with the leaping flames, the chairs that were not there at all, the toast keeping hot—they were enchantment.

With a suffocating feeling she struggled out of the spell. She took a deep breath, then asked of David, “What Mrs. Dubois said of Redgates—could it be true?”

“What exactly did she say?”

“That without her the home could not function.”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Yes, I’m afraid that is so.”

“But there are other donors
...”

“None with as many assets as Mrs. Dubois. When old Arnold Dubois had his daughter marry her cousin the idea was to keep the Dubois money tight in the family. It did that all right. Fayette now has cash in her own right, her late husband’s, and her father’s. She is a
r
ich woman.”

“Is that the reason she can boast of ‘influence’ and ‘contacts’?”

“Probably. Money speaks all languages.”

“It’s all rather hateful.”

David nodded. “Yet necessary,” he said. “Perhaps not the string pulling, but the cold cash. Look at it this way, Cathy. Little Families is entirely supported by charity. Apart from child endowment, there is no government aid. People are kind, but there are many charities. Besides, it is not an
Australian
charity, and ours are not
Australian
children. You will always meet the certain person who will say, ‘Oh, yes, but I believe in helping our own first.’ You must have encountered that yourself.”

“Mrs. Meldrum,” murmured Cathy. “She said exactly that, though I believe it was really the episode with Leila that clinched things. But
England,
David. These are
English
kiddies. What of English support?”

“Grand—but still insufficient without a Mrs. Dubois. You must remember that in England, like Australia, there are many charities. You must remember, too, charity begins at home.” Cathy looked at him questioningly.

“We’re a long way from home,” was all he said.

They were approaching the doctor’s office now.

“Thank you, David
...
and I’m sorry.”

“I told you you were let off with a caution. Don’t worry about the other, either, the grand Fayette, I mean. There are as big fish in the ocean.”

Cathy giggled at that. “Mrs. Dubois would not be impressed.”

“I’m afraid I don’t care. She was never very impressed with me. Too homespun, I guess.” He waved his arm and was gone.

The door opened before Cathy could put her finger on the bell. The doctor stepped back to let her come in.

“I have a job for you. A single eye bandage.”

“Mrs. Williams?”

“No, a genuine case. He was last in during evening office hours.” As he spoke Dr. Malcolm was edging Cathy forward into his casualty room.

“Terence, this is Nurse Trent,” he said briefly. “Nurse Trent, Terence Bliss, who had an argument on the soccer field.”

Terrence, a hefty sixteen-year-old, gave an engaging grin. “Thought I’d lost my eye, but doc here has fixed me up.”

“We always keep a good supply of eyes,” said Dr. Malcolm. “Here is your gauze, nurse. Go right ahead.”

She did so, a little shakily, reassured by Terence’s wide smile and the fact that he was not a local boy and so did not know her. “I come from down the line,” he informed her cheerfully. “One thing, we beat Burnley, so it doesn’t matter about this.” He blinked.

“Keep still,” said Cathy.

She commenced with two turns around the head from above the affected eye toward the unaffected, then she passed the bandage beneath the ear and over the eye, and repeated it twice and pinned it in front.

She half glanced at Malcolm. He made no comment to her, but said to Terence, “Right you are, lad. You’ll mend. No soccer for at least a month.” Then he turned briefly to Cathy. “Thank you, nurse.”

Cathy decided her bandaging must have been awarded a pass.

While the boy was returned to his waiting teammates Cathy set out her books. The fire was burning brightly in the hearth, but it had none of the magic glow that she had found in an empty grate.

She stared at it unseeing, and suddenly, silently, Dr. Malcolm was beside her, saying
briskly
, “Page 214, Trent, ‘Minor Medical Procedures.’
”

She opened the book. So
he
did not notice the fire, she thought
...

He put her through the chapters he considered her weak points. They were just finishing when Mrs. Williams brought in the supper.

“That’s a fine blaze.” The old district nurse stood a moment admiring it. “I’m lazy, Miss Trent. I like to get my warmth by pulling a switch. But have you ever met anyone who sees pictures in a radiator?”

Dr. Malcolm took the tray to the stool beside the grate. “It was better on Tuesday,” he said absently.

“Tuesday—you never had a fire then, doctor. That was the night you visited Christabel.”

“Was it, Willie, how foolish I am.” He did not look at Cathy. Cathy’s own eyes were averted.
He does remember,
she thought.
He, too, knew the spell.

They talked on about the approaching exam for a while, then with his usual forthrightness Dr. Malcolm said, “What’s this about you and Kennedy?”

“I don’t think that concerns you.”

“Then you think wrongly. Anything to do with Redgates concerns me. Another of the rules we had to waive temporarily—
temporarily,
mark you—was the employment of married women. Well?”

“There is nothing definite.” Cathy’s voice was evasive in tone. She had no intention of enlightening him.

“There has been a discussion between you then?”

“Yes, there has been a discussion.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“Ah, I see.”

She looked up resentfully. “What do you see?”

He shook his head in warning. “You wouldn’t like it.”

She set her lips firmly. “What do you see, Dr. Malcolm?”

“Well, if you must have it, I see the time-honored old routine of the rebound—some say ricochet romance.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that after my letter you promptly salved your foundering pride by substituting with Kennedy.”

“How dare you?”

“I have dared. It’s your own fault. I warned you that you would not like what I was thinking.”

“It’s so unfair
... so unfounded
...
”

“Yet not so untrue?”

“It is untrue. There was no rebound, as you say, at all. I’ve always liked David.”

“Liked? What poor thing is this, Aunty Cathy?
Liked,
you say.”

“Liking a person,” said Cathy blandly, “is really more important than loving them. Many women have gone into marriage with only affection in their hearts.”

She was suddenly aware of the icy fury in his dark eyes. “You cheat,” he said, “you hypocrite. You would look down on the adventures, yet you would paint yourself as pure as the lily. Isn’t it as bad to share a bed with a lie in your heart as to share it with a lie written on a hotel register?
”

Cathy said frigidly, “Just now I have no intention of doing either.”

“Good. Study chapters five, eight, fifteen and seventeen. Especially seventeen. I anticipate questions from that. No need for you to come around anymore. Review is all that is needed. Will you be all right going home? The rain is past. It is a clear night. Good evening, Miss Trent.”

Cathy found herself outside.

She ran most of the way. She was not nervous, she never had been. She told herself it was because of the cold, but she was still cold when she reached home.

During the next morning David came across to the girls’ block. “I’ve had a pile of clothing catalogs for the spring. Have you had yours?”

Cathy said she had.

“This is my problem—shirts for the boys. I thought I’d like checked ones; practical, easy to launder, sufficiently subdued for church parade but bright enough for the youngsters to imagine themselves small Hopalong Cassidys. Asking too much, you think?”

“I don’t think. I think it’s a splendid and quite feasible idea. All the same color, or varied?”

“Red check, green spun, brown tartan, blue weave—that’s where you come in. I’m going to the Freeman Textiles to choose the colors and I want you to come along and advise me.”

“Oh, David, I’d love to.”

“Just as well, because it’s an order. According to Regulation Twenty-Two ‘Housemothers must help with the replenishing of both girls’ and boys’ wardrobes.’ When can you tear yourself away? Before lunch?”