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Authors: Kathryn Blair

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No, thank you.


You mustn

t spend the day alone. There

ll be people bathing and you might like to join them.


Yes, I might. I

ll
be all right.


So long, then.

He seemed to hesitate, almost expectantly, before he turned abruptly and left the house.

Karen waited till all sound of the car had died before hobbling into
the
bathroom. Half an hour later, dressed, but sweating from the pain of moving about, she went into the living room. Anai appeared, bearing a salad of wild oranges and papaya.

She shook her head.

No breakfast, Anai. Do you know if Dr. Mears is at home?


He is out always at this time.


Then will you go over and ask Mrs. Mears to come and see me?


Now?

he asked, mystified.

She nodded.

At once. And then you can go back to the kitchen. Clear the table first.

Mrs. Mears came in cheerfully, prepared for a chat. She took one startled look at Karen

s drawn face, another at the bloated plum-colored foot and said firmly,

The hospital for you. Where

s Andrew?


Molly,

said Karen desperately,
‘“
I don

t want any fuss. Andrew has taken the Prichards out to their weekend house, and he doesn

t know about this.


How could he
not
know? It must have been pretty bad yesterday!


Not really. I even wore a narrow shoe at the Residency last night and got away with it. It seemed to get much worse during the night. I thought you could pierce it for me. That

s probably all it needs.


It needs more than that, my dear.

She was on her knees, examining the wound.

How did you do it?


I walked barefoot in the veranda. It was a thorn; I got it out, but the place didn

t heal—I can

t think why, I usually heal qui
ckl
y.


Is there a sharp pain as well as the throbbing?


And how!


Then I

m afraid the thorn broke in your foot and part of it was left in; it must have been a murderous size. It

s well down now and I couldn

t possibly get it out with an ordinary probe.


Please try, Molly.

Her pleading, the huskiness of her voice, made Mrs. Mears stand up and lo
ok
more closely at her. She gestured,
said reasoningly,

You must already have had frightful pain with it, and probing deep without a local anaesthetic would nearly kill you. It won

t take long to drive you down to the hospital and get Jake

s assistant to do it. Within a few hours the swelling will have disappeared completely.


But you
could
do it here, if I could stick it?


How do I know? I

m not risking it.

She hesitated, and asked point blank,

Karen, why didn

t you tell Andrew first thing this morning, before he left?

Karen looked down at the foot.

He

d already this arrangement with the Prichards, and I couldn

t upset it I knew you were right next door and would help.


But haven

t you even told him you trod on a thorn?

Karen had an answer for that too.

It was silly not to, but he

s warned me against walking in the garden barefoot. I

ve told you I got the thorn out and thought that was the end of it
.

Obviously, Molly Mears did not understand, but she became practical.

We

ll have to use your car. I

m not much of a driver but
I’ll
get us there. Young Dr. Wilmot will be on duty and if you

re so keen not to make a thing of it I

ll act as nurse. But

quite emphatically,

you should have told Andrew this morning. He could have taken you down to the hospital before he left. It wouldn

t have put him back more than
half
an hour.

Mrs. Mears didn

t know Andrew, thought Karen despondently. Had he taken charge there would have been a polite note of regret to the Residency and the matter of the poisoned foot would have become a major operation

not for others but for Karen.

She smiled.

Well, it

s too late now. If you

re sure you don

t mind driving me down, let

s go at once.

Considering the pain she had suffered through the darned foot Karen reflected, the act of disposing or the cause of it was very minor. They arrived at the long low buildings which comprised the hospital, Karen managed the short walk into the blessed coolness of a reception room and was at once placed in a wheelchair and trundled into a surgery. Dr. Wilmot young and not very experienced, admitted that he was glad Mrs. Eliot had nothing more serious wrong with her.


And I

d better make a neat job of this,

he added.

I

ll bet Andrew will examine the sole of your foot from every angle and send me his report. You

re far too new and precious to be tampered with!


Just go ahead in your own way,

said Karen.

It

s only a thorn, anyway.

She remained in the wheelchair, was given a newspaper and told to relax. Her leg was raised fairly high on a
cushioned
platform, a heap of muslin was so placed that even if she looked she could not see what was happening, there came the prick of the hypo needle and the pain gradually eased into numbness. After that she watched curiously. Dr. Wilmot cut, Molly Mears swabbed, he cut
again,
more swabbing. They shook their heads, and had another go; the bloodied thorn, resting on a scrap of gauze, was shown to Karen.


L
ittle beast,

she said.

Am I relieved to see the back of it.

No bandage, she told them firmly; just a large circular dressing. Dr. Wilmot said he thought that would be enough; the wound would have practically healed by tomorrow. And that was that.

Mrs. Mears drove them back to the house and had a cup of tea with Karen. She asked about the dinner at the Residency, what Karen thought of Lady Prichard.


She was cordial,

Karen said guardedly.

I wasn

t alone with her for long.

“I’
ve never liked her,

Molly confessed.

To
o
cold and shrewd, though she

s an ideal type for the Governor. You can

t shake her from the correct routine, but she

s not old-fashioned about it. She sees herself as a cornerstone of the
Co
mmo
nwealth.


I suppose that

s necessary to her position,

Karen said.

Her whole attitude is based on her knowledge of the Governor

s importance. I think she

s keeping alive a spirit that

s only too willing to die in these days, and she s to be commended for it. There can

t be many of her kind left.


Maybe not,

Mrs
.
Mears agreed, and she shrugged philosophically.

The new generation of officials

wives is an odd mixture. I don

t wonder Andrew snapped you up from the crowd.

She put down her cup.

Talking of odd mixtures, what

s happening to Rita Vaughan?


Rita? Is she changing? I

m afraid I wouldn

t know.


I suppose not—you

ve only recently met us all. Rita has been here about two years and she was married six months before that. She always had the burned-out look, but she and Clive seemed quite normal together for a long time. Then she gradually became more and more cynical and uncaring in what she said. You

ve been out with her once or twice, haven

t you? How did you find her?


Quite good fun.


Didn

t she complain about Clive

s obtuseness?


Vaguely. Perhaps she hasn

t enough to do.


That

s quite certain, but it

s impossible to interest her in good works and she purposely plays an atrocious hand of bridge.


How do you mean, that she

s changing?


It

s difficult to say. She laughs more, she

s been going to a little Nemakan dressmaker and turning up in rather bizarre clothes, she never stops at one drink even though she knows she can

t really take more, and she occasionally walks down to the Forestry Department, tells one of the clerks that she

s taking a car and drives away.

Molly looked genuinely puzzled.

I never gossip for the sake of it, Karen. I

m concerned about Rita.


But if she

s taking more pains with her dress and seems happier, what is there to worry about?

The doctor

s wife said flatly,

All I know is that it

s not her husband who

s making her happy—if it
is
happiness, which I doubt. One has only to remember Clive as he was when he first came here to know that he

s been f
eeling
more and more wretched.


Can anyone do anything about it?


Interfering is a chancy business. I think Rita was really sorry she talked like a moron in your house that night, and she

s come to like you. You

re cool and restrained; you might be able to get her to talk about herself. She just
doesn

t have a close woman friend, and I feel she needs one.

BOOK: The Primrose Bride
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