Unknown

NURSE HELEN

Lucy Gillen

‘You should have told me she was so young”

Evan Davies' words accused the doctor who had recommended Helen as a nurse for his badly injured son.

He was not pleased to see her.

Dr. Neath, a family friend, had thought of the Welsh village as a welcome change of scene for the lovely girl—lonely since the death of her father.

But a dark, brooding and distinctly hostile employer—and a patient who proved to be amorous—did little for Helen’s peace of mind!

While Helen Gaynor waited on the station platform she was once again assailed by the doubts that had plagued her ever since she had let Doctor Neath persuade her to leave Oxford and take a job in Wales, which he had assured her was just what she really needed. A change of surroundings with nothing to remind her of her father, a complete change of environment.

She wondered just how it would feel to be back in uniform again; she had not worn it since she had qualified three years before and though she would not be subject to hospital discipline; it would be like going back to the days of her training in so far as she would not be a free agent, but obliged to comply with someone else's wishes.

It was several years since she had nursed anyone but her father, and beside the prospect of leaving her home there was the thought that her future employer had taken her on recommendation only. He had never seen her but had taken Doctor Neath's word that she was a suitable person to nurse his only son through what could be a long recovery.

She knew little of the circumstances that awaited her, only that the boy she would be nursing had been injured badly in a car crash and it would be necessary to supervise special exercises that would eventually enable him to walk again. Why he had not been kept in hospital for treatment, Doctor Neath had not explained, but no doubt he would in his own good time.

She smiled to herself at the thought of the kindly little Welsh doctor with whom her father had been such good friends for such a long time, even though the friendship had been rather erratic at times. The two men had had nothing in common except a deep understanding of human nature and a compassion for its shortcomings, but they had written occasionally and met even less often, with each meeting like a schoolboy reunion, and Helen was grateful to the Welsh doctor for coming to see her father only just before he died. The visit had brought her father such pleasure and almost the last words he had spoken had been of his old friend.

After it was all over Doctor Neath had made it quite clear that he thought she should get away even if only for a while. Away from the old house and its memories, and then out of the blue he had written telling her there was a post as private nurse open to her if she would take it and saying that he thought it would be the best thing for her and she should accept it. He had even advised her which train to take for easier travelling and had promised to meet her at Glyneath station when she arrived. Evan Davies, he told her, would be expecting her to arrive on that train and he was not a man who liked to be kept waiting. The latter information did nothing to reassure her that she was doing the right thing in coming and, recognizing the name, she wondered what her new employer would be like. That he was a well-known writer she knew, but it was the extent of her knowledge, and the idea of working for someone so famous had given her added doubts. The doctor's rather cryptic reference to his impatience was all he had seen fit to tell her about him.

She glanced down yet again at the book she carried, bought on the spur of the moment from the station bookshop. The back of the paper dust jacket bore a photograph of the author, Evan Davies, and the face in the picture did nothing to banish her apprehension. He looked out at her with unfathomable black eyes from under brows drawn into a slight frown as though he objected to having the photograph taken and the square chin, deeply cleft, thrust aggressively. It was not a face to inspire confidence in the undecided and the fearful.

She sighed deeply when the train came in, knowing now that it was too late to change her mind, the die was cast. A young man standing near her flicked her a curious glance at her sigh, and smiled when she looked at him. He opened the carriage door and politely signalled her to get in first, lifting her two suitcases on to the over head rack. She was a girl that men found worth a second look and more, for there was a gentle loveliness about her that made her appear far more fragile and delicate than she was. Soft, fair hair, cut not too short, curled slightly round her face and her eyes were almost unbelievably blue, definitely her best feature and fringed with lashes that were several shades darker than her hair and quite natural. Her mouth was soft-looking and smiled easily, though there was a droop of doubt about it now that made it look sad.

The young man seated himself in the corner opposite to her and the only other passenger, an elderly man, immediately settled himself into the far comer behind a barrier of newspaper. ‘Going far?' the younger man asked, encouraged by her smile of thanks, and Helen nodded.

'
To Wales. A village called Glyneath.'

He smiled, pleased that his friendly overtures had not been met with a snub as he had half expected they would. 'I know Glyneath,' he said, 'I have an uncle who lives there. Do you know anyone there?' He laughed and supplied his own answer. 'But of course you do, or you wouldn't be going there, would you? Glyneath isn't exactly tourist country.'

‘I've never been there before,' Helen confessed, ‘I have a job to go to, that's why I'm going there now.'

‘Really?' He looked for a moment as if he doubted the truth of the statement. 'Please don't think I'm inquisitive, but I can't for one minute imagine where it is you can be going to work. There is absolutely nothing in Glyneath that could be worth leaving civilization for, except the scenery, and one can't live on scenery, however lovely.' He laughed apologetically. 'I do apologize, Miss ?'

'
Gaynor,' she supplied readily, 'Helen Gaynor.'

'
Miss Gaynor; but I really am curious.' He extended a hand. 'My name's Owen Neath, my uncle is the local doctor in Glyneath.'

Helen smiled at the coincidence that had brought them together and shook his hand. ‘I know Doctor Neath,' she said. ‘I've known him most of my life, he was a good friend of my father.'

‘Really?' he said, the news obviously delighting him. 'And I've never heard him speak of you—the sly old fox, fancy keeping such a lovely secret to himself!' She smiled at the compliment, her very blue eyes shining with pleasure; he was really a very attractive man and pleasantly friendly. If the other inhabitants of Glyneath were as friendly as the little doctor and his nephew, she had nothing to worry about.

‘Doctor Neath was responsible for getting me this job,' she told him. 'I’m a nurse, and he heard of someone wanting a private nurse, so here I am.'

He drew his brows together in thought for a moment then snapped his fingers as realization dawned on him. ‘Gaynor,' he said. ‘Of course! Henry Gaynor the psychiatrist; my uncle and he were friends for years.'

'
They were,' Helen agreed. ‘Very good friends.'

He looked sympathetic when he remembered. 'I'm sorry, Miss Gaynor. He must have been your father, of course.'

'
He was,' Helen agreed, her voice not quite steady. 'I nursed him through his illness, but you have no need to apologize, Mr Neath. My sorrow is purely selfish, it was a happy release for him.'

Impulsively he leaned across and covered her folded hands with one of his own for a brief moment and she smiled her gratitude, while their companion in the comer rattled his newspaper as if to remind them that he was there. Owen Neath gave a shrug of regret that they were not alone and Helen suppressed a smile with difficulty, wondering at her own swift acceptance of his friendship, since she was not normally a creature of impulse, but perhaps it was because he was a link, however vague, with someone who knew her father. They sat silently for a few moments, watching the preparation for departure, each of them preoccupied, then, as the train left the station and gathered speed, he looked across at her again and smiled.

'Is this the first time you've visited Wales?' he enquired, and Helen nodded.

'
Yes, it is, and since your reference to leaving civilization, I'm wondering if I've done the right thing in coming.' Her smile took the edge of reproach off the words. 'Though Doctor Neath is a resident and a native of Glyneath and I've always found him civilized enough.'

His lips made a moue of dismay and apology. 'Oh, good lord, don't take me literally,' he begged. 'I don't think you'll find Glyneath any better or worse than any other small Welsh village. But it's very quiet, of course, no gay night life or anything like that. The scenery, though, makes up for any other shortcomings. It's rather beautiful, especially at this time of the year.'

'
You mentioned the scenery before,' she said. 'Tell me about it, if you don't mind, is it very lovely?' Encouraged by her interest, he talked about Wales at length and made it sound so interesting that she hardly noticed the passing of the time; it was obvious, too, that his native country meant more to him than his initial remarks had implied. Helen had always been a good listener and a reticent talker, except with those closest to her or on a subject about which she felt very strongly, so that Owen Neath was able to extoll the virtues of his native heath almost without interruption and, as if he realized suddenly, for how long he had talked, he laughed apologetically.

'
I hope I haven't bored you,' he said with a hasty glance at their companion in the corner. 'We do go on a bit, you'll find—it's racial trait, we're great talkers.'

'
I've enjoyed it,' Helen assured him, 'and I wasn't in the least bored.'

He smiled at her tact. 'You're a good listener,' he said. 'You encouraged me to talk.'

She laughed, a delightful sound that he hoped to hear again, often. She was a delightful girl, he told himself, and he really must think about visiting Uncle David again. 'I shall have to find time to do some walking,' she said. 'It sounds ideal for it.'

'It is,' he agreed, 'only don't get lost, will you? It's all too easy in the hills
when the
weather
changes so
quickly and strangers are often a little too trusting.'
He
leaned forward, the better to speak without being overheard by
the man in
the comer. 'I
shall be coming to see my uncle soon and I'd like to see you again
if I may.'

Helen smiled. 'I'd like that,' she said quietly.
'You
could show me some of your lovely but dangerous country, if you had no objections.'

'
None at all,' he assured her. 'I'd like nothing better, but I hope you're a good walker, it's the only way to see the hills properly, although I have to confess that
I
more often use the lazy way and travel by car.'

'
I'm a nurse,' she reminded him with a smile. 'I spend a good deal of my time on my feet.'

'Of course,' he laughed. 'I'd forgotten that for a moment, and I'm glad my car is laid up at the moment or I wouldn't have met you, would I?'

'Perhaps when you came to Glyneath,' she said. 'Even a nurse has time off, at least I hope I shall.'

He looked at her curiously for a moment. 'I suppose Emlyn Davies is your patient?' he said at last, and she looked vaguely surprised at his knowledge.

'That's right,' she admitted. 'Do you know the family?'

'
There is only Emlyn and his father,' he said, and added with a rueful smile, 'And no one can really claim to
know
them, not Evan Davies anyway, although my uncle is as close a friend as any he has. I've seen Emlyn once or twice in the Golden Harp when I've been there. He's a little more social than his father, in fact he's got quite a reputation with the girls, I believe.'