Tabitha in Moonlight (26 page)

She ignored this. ‘You know who it is.' She darted a look of fury at him. ‘Why didn't you tell me? How contemptible of you! You must have known how much I…'

He cut her short deliberately. ‘My dear girl, I'm only just back from Holland. For all I knew you had come to some arrangement with Mrs Crawley.'

Tabitha said in a bitter little voice: ‘You had no reason to tell me. I'm sorry I bothered you with all this—only I—I thought of it suddenly while I was talking to George just now and it seemed such a good idea.' She backed away to her desk and picked up a handful of papers regardless of whether they required her attention or not, but at least he would see that she didn't want to say any more about the whole miserable business. She ventured jerkily: ‘Good night. I hope I haven't kept you.' Her voice was cold.

Marius apparently didn't hear the coldness; he said thoughtfully:

‘It is just possible that I may be able to help you—at least it's worth a try. I have a slight acquaintance with the buyer of Chidlake. I don't think for one moment that he would consider selling it—or even letting it. I believe that I can find out his solicitors, they might agree to forward a letter. I'll let you have the address.'

Tabitha was staring at him, her eyes very bright. She had missed a great deal of this speech, for her attention had been caught and fired by one word. ‘Letting?' she exclaimed. ‘I never thought of that—if I could see whoever it is and make him understand. Marius, did you really mean that?'

She became aware of his steady regard. ‘Do you think I'm being silly? But I have to try. I'm sorry I asked you for that money…'

A peculiar expression was fleetingly visible on Marius's impassive face. ‘What made you suppose that I had such a sum at my disposal?'

Tabitha gave him a quick look. He had behaved indifferently to her—he must surely have known how much she loved her home and he had let Mrs Crawley sell it without saying a word, but at least he was trying to help her now. She explained quickly. ‘It was something Knotty said one day—oh, ages ago.' She sighed without knowing it, remembering that happy time. ‘He said you were a man of substance and I thought that perhaps a man of substance might have that much money. You see,' she went on, wanting to explain, ‘you're not married like Mr Raynard with a wife and children to support. I thought…' Her voice tailed away; she wasn't making much of a
success of it. ‘I expect you find us very vulgar talking about money, but we weren't discussing you,' she added anxiously.

He ignored that. ‘Is this what you really want?' he wanted to know. ‘Would you be happy living at Chidlake for the rest of your life? It wouldn't be easy, you know. You won't have Meg for ever and as you yourself said, you are twenty-five.'

She cast him a waspish look; it was one thing for her to remark upon her age, but there was no need for him to do so too. ‘Yes,' she said a shade too loudly. ‘Yes, of course it is.'

She suddenly couldn't bear it any longer, for there was nothing she wanted to do other than be with Marius for the rest of her life—an idea which unhappily enough hadn't occurred to him. She rustled the papers still in her hands and he said at once: ‘I'm holding you up, I'll say good night. I'll see that you get that address!'

He turned away and strode up the corridor without another word or look.

Tabitha stayed awake most of the night wondering if he would remember, and when she saw his scrawled directions on her notepad in the morning, she could have cried with relief and shame too for ever having doubted him. She tucked the paper away in a pocket and got on with her work until her coffee break, when, using hospital stationery with a reckless disregard for the rules, she wrote a brief, businesslike letter, enclosed it in a neatly addressed envelope and took it to the front hall letter box and posted it, having borrowed a stamp from the head porter, Mr Biggs.

She then went back to the ward and applied herself to her work once more, resolutely dismissing the matter from her mind. She did not have the same success with Marius, however; she thought about him constantly and every time the door opened she jumped nervously, longing to see him while at the same time having not the least idea what she would say to him. It was only on her way home that she remembered that he had said he wouldn't be in until the late evening.

There was, of course, no letter the next day. It dragged through its interminable length, made longer by George telling her that Mr van Beek found it impossible to come in until after five o'clock and she was off duty at that hour. Although she was sick of her day she hung around until almost half past, and then, beaten by Staff's hurt look at not being left alone to get on with things, Tabitha went. Ten minutes later she crossed the forecourt to the Fiat and passed the
Bentley on the way. It was empty and it hadn't been there when she had gone off duty—perhaps Marius didn't want to see her. Now that she thought about it, she realized she had put him in a very awkward position; she could imagine how her stepmother would feel if she discovered that her stepdaughter was trying to get Chidlake back. He must be very sure of Lilith to risk their displeasure. Tabitha clashed the gears, hating Lilith, who was so very pretty and clever enough to get her own way as well as determined.

Tabitha edged the car into the street outside and drove home very badly. She spent the evening mooning around the flat, eating nothing of the tasty supper Meg had prepared and displaying an ill-humour quite at variance with her usual calm disposition. She wasn't on duty until one o'clock the next day so that impatience made her so irritable that even Meg's placid good nature was shaken. When Tabitha had contradicted her for the fourth or fifth time in as many minutes, Meg said in her firm nanny's voice: ‘Now, Miss Tabitha, I know you're upset and it's a nasty old patch we're going through, but nothing lasts. It's always darkest just before the dawn.'

Tabitha had to laugh. ‘Darling Meg—I promise you I'll cheer up.'

‘That's a love,' said Meg comfortably. ‘Do you remember how you told me once that Mr van Beek called you Cinderella—well, even she got her glass slipper in the end, didn't she?'

Tabitha, washing smalls at the sink, bent her head over her work. She had been trying not to think about Marius, and now here was Meg talking about him again. She said lightly: ‘What a pity life isn't a fairy story. But since it's not, if—if I can't persuade the new owner of Chidlake to rent it to me, would you mind very much if we moved right away from here—it would mean you wouldn't be near your sister.'

Meg glanced at the clock. ‘Sit down and eat that bit of lunch I've got for you,' she commanded. ‘That's a good idea, love, to move away—right away, as you said. As for my sister, there's still the railway, isn't there, and buses. That's no problem, but don't you worry about that until you need to. Never cross your bridges…'

There was a letter, but because of the sudden spate of work Tabitha was unable to open it at once. It was brief and stated merely that Messrs Stubbs, Cripp and Mann begged to inform her that their client would be at Chidlake on the following evening after seven o'clock and was willing to see her. They were glad to be of service
and were hers faithfully. She read it through several times, trying to draw hope and encouragement from the dry words. At least she was being given the chance to put her proposition and it seemed like a good omen that she was free the following evening. She would have to plan what she would say, but not until later. Now there was her work. The ward was a heavy one, and for the last week or so it had been getting heavier, culminating in the arrival of Mr Morgan, who, although improving steadily, needed constant care and attention. He had shown great courage and patience and a cheerfulness which defied anyone to pity him, only begging that he should be told should anything go wrong. Marius had gone out of his way to explain exactly what had been done in the theatre, not mentioning that any surgeon might have been justified in amputating, whereas he, by his skill, had saved the leg. It was George Steele, doing a round on his own, who enlightened Mr Morgan as to the extent of the operation. Tabitha, masked and gowned, listened to George's quiet voice and then her patient singing Marius's praise in no uncertain fashion, while she took out a drainage tube and put on another dressing to cover Marius's meticulous stitching.

‘There's a man for you,' observed Mr Morgan, ‘sewing me leg back on—like new 'e'll be. Going around tidying up arms and legs like 'e does. Daresay 'e's a nice chap too—got a straight eye for all 'e's not English.'

Tabitha, while agreeing with this sincere praise, said nothing, but enquired if her patient was doing his breathing exercises.

‘Yes, love, I'm doing 'em, though it's me legs is 'urt; can't see no reason for it meself, but I'll do 'em if you says so, Sister. Proper angel you are, you and the nurses.'

Tabitha fixed the last piece of strapping. ‘Why, thank you, Mr Morgan,' she said cheerfully. ‘Your wife'll be here in a minute—just in time to have a cup of tea while you have yours.'

She was in the dressing room clearing the trolley when Nurse Betts came in. ‘Sister, Mr van Beek's in the ward. Shall I finish the trolley for you?'

Tabitha started to roll down her sleeves. ‘Please,' she spoke with her usual unhurried calm while her heart raced. She would be able to tell him about the letter. She hastened into the ward, giving Mrs Jeffs a speaking glance as she did so, which that lady rightly interpreted as a request for her cuffs to be brought immediately. Ward sisters always wore their cuffs when they did a round with the con
sultant staff, in the same way as men took their hats off in lifts and everyone curtsied to royalty. It was a kind of tradition that was unquestioned. Marius waited now while Tabitha put hers on, and only when she had donned them did he speak.

‘Good afternoon, Sister. I've a list for tomorrow, have I not? Perhaps I might see the patients now.'

She led him to the first one and after a moment he said pleasantly:

‘Don't bother with me, Sister, I'm sure you have plenty to do. I'll ask a nurse if I want anything.'

Thus dismissed, Tabitha went to her office, where she sat with the requisition books open before her, lost in thought. She wouldn't be able to tell Marius about the letter; in those few minutes together she had sensed his withdrawal behind a cool pleasantness of manner which she knew she wouldn't be able to penetrate. She told herself it was a good thing, for now she could put him out of her mind. She concentrated instead on what she would say the following evening at Chidlake. She was rehearsing a series of speeches calculated to melt a heart of stone when Marius walked in. ‘I'll do that pelvis tonight,' he said briskly. ‘May I use the telephone?'

She pushed the instrument across the desk towards him and listened while he talked to Sue, with whom he appeared to be on the friendliest of terms, which made it all the more apparent to her as he gave her his instructions that he had no intention of extending those terms to herself. He was still pleasant, but his manner was guarded and so politely impersonal that nothing would have persuaded her to so much as mention Chidlake.

She listened to his directions without looking at him, because she couldn't bear to see his face while he talked in that casual, distant voice. He got up to go presently and she went at once into the ward, her face set in a stony calm. She had been unhappy before, but never had she felt quite so desolate as she did now. It was because she had asked him for money and help, of course. She had been a fool—if she hadn't been so desperate. At least she had got her chance of meeting the new owner of Chidlake, but it had cost her Marius's good opinion of her. She had thought that he would have understood, and he hadn't.

She rang for the porters, served the suppers, studied the operation list for the next day so that she could plan the ward work and went down to supper; the case wouldn't be back until eight o'clock.
She sat with the other ward sisters, eating her way through egg and chips and college pudding without having the least idea what was on her plate while she talked with her usual pleasantness to her companions at table. Afterwards she was unable to remember a word of the conversation, but as no one had questioned anything she had said, presumably she had talked sense.

She and Betts were putting traction on the newly returned theatre case when Marius came into the ward, finished it for them, added some more instructions to those he had already given her and then said: ‘A word with you, Sister.'

She accompanied him to the office; perhaps everything was going to be all right again. She stood just inside the door, waiting for him to speak. She was mistaken, for he began in that same coolly casual voice:

‘About Morgan—I see you have quite rightly put him on a half-hourly pulse chart. I'd like that changed to a quarter hourly pulse, please. The slightest sign of it going up and you will be good enough to tell Mr Steele at once. Never mind if it is a false alarm—we don't want a secondary haemorrhage. Please make this clear to your nurses.'

Tabitha's voice was so professional it sounded severe. ‘Very well, sir. Did you wish to see anyone else?'

She gave him a quick look and found his eyes intent on her, and the wish to fling herself into his arms and tell him how much she loved him was so strong that she clenched her teeth so that her mouth looked quite forbidding. He said slowly, still staring: ‘No, not at present, thank you. Good night.'

She watched him make his unhurried way down the corridor and then went back into the ward. There was plenty to do still, and as far as she was concerned a very good thing too.

The following day was busy too; only in the afternoon, when the list was finished, did the work slacken. Marius hadn't been to the ward all day and now it was George Steele who came to check on the operation cases. He wrote up the charts for her and said, ‘I expect that will do—you're quite happy about Morgan? I'll pop in later on and have a look at him as Mr van Beek has gone.'