Her Australian Summer: Corazon Books Vintage Romance (novella)
Page 7
They turned to go. ‘Are you coming, Sarah?’ she asked.
‘Well, actually I was looking for Jeremy.’
‘Oh, he went over to the tea tent. He was going to interview Hugh, I think.’
‘Thank you,’ I replied. I went over to the marquee where the teas were being served. The place was packed, and though I looked everywhere I could see no sign of Jeremy or the doctor.
‘Hullo, angel!’ purred a voice in my ear, ‘which of your many beaux are you chasing?’
I turned round to find myself face to face with Cynthia Fennell. She was one of the gay dashing set that haunted the smart London night clubs, and were to be seen at all the fashionable shows and dances. She was a tall, fair-haired girl, pretty in a rather hard, aloof sort of way, and she was renowned for having caustic wit.
‘Hullo,’ I said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Oh, I’m staying with Mrs. West for the week-end. If I wasn’t going to be Angela’s bridesmaid and if it wasn’t for the prospect of seeing Hugh Weatherby again, I should be bored stiff.’
‘Oh, I see, you know Hugh then?’ I asked casually.
Cynthia was not deceived by my light manner. ‘Yes, and hands off, darling. He is strictly married to his work at the moment. Anyway, what about poor old Clive? You’re not going to leave someone else to push him about when he gets to the wheelchair stage, are you?’
That was the sort of remark that was typical of her. I ignored it, telling myself it was stupid to lose my temper. ‘Who is Angela, anyway?’ I asked coldly.
‘You’re a bit out of touch, aren’t you? Mrs. West’s daughter, she’s just made the catch of the season.’
‘Oh yes,’ I said airily, ‘that Viscount with the receding chin and wet as they come.’
‘Wet maybe. But old Jimmy has a healthy bank balance.’ I heard a note of irritation creep into her voice. Cynthia, instead of being a bride married to a healthy bank balance, was being a bridesmaid for the fourth time.
I caught a glimpse of Jeremy’s head over the throng. ‘Oh, there he is,’ I cried. ‘Excuse me, Cynthia.’ I left her standing and pushed my way through the crowd to Jeremy’s side.
‘Fine escort you are,’ I gasped, ‘leaving me wide open to Cynthia Fennell’s broadsides.’
‘Oh gosh, is she here? Creeping round Mrs. West, no doubt.’
‘I suppose you know everybody’s business.’
He grinned. ‘I keep my eyes and ears open. Here, I want to interview this Weatherby bloke. I can always fill my column up with this sort of rot.’
‘Can I come too?’
‘Yes, only first to find him.’ He started weaving his way in and out of the crowd, while I hung on to his jacket. ‘Honestly, it’s like a flipping treasure hunt to find anyone in this place,’ he grumbled.
As we reached the lawn, we saw Hugh talking to a group of people, he was pretty well surrounded, and by his side was a young girl dressed in nurse’s uniform. She had a pretty, rather plump figure; natural curly hair in an unsophisticated style surrounded her rosy open face under her jaunty cap. She was pushing a man in a wheel-chair, who had his legs in plaster.
As we joined the small group of people, I heard Hugh say quietly: ‘Mr. Wroblewski has spent fifteen years in a D.P. camp in Germany. He had congenital deformity of both hips, and for the last ten years has been completely bedridden. We hope he’ll be able to get about a bit, anyway, when he leaves us, even if it will be on sticks.’
I felt a surge of compassion for the silent man sitting in the wheel-chair. His face had that lost look that great misfortune brings.
The group murmured sympathetically and moved away as Hugh finished by giving a few medical details of the case. He turned to the girl beside him.
‘Well, Julie, I should get back to the Home. You look tired. See if you can get Mrs. Moss to give out suppers and then you can have a bit of a rest.’
The little nurse smiled trustingly up at him. ‘Thank you, Doctor. I do feel a bit tired.’
‘Well, off you go.’
He turned and caught sight of us. ‘Oh! Did you want to see me or the patient?’
Jeremy rushed up to him. ‘I’m Jeremy Fellowes of the Morning Globe ‒ this is Sarah Lacy my cousin,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘I wonder if I could have a word with you.’
Although Hugh was obviously taken aback, he murmured: ‘Of course. Er ‒ shall we go to the tea tent?’
‘Oh, it’s frightful there!’ I cried, hoping I appeared a bright and enthusiastic young thing. ‘You can’t get your nose in, let alone getting anywhere near a cup of tea.’
I flashed him one of my most dazzling smiles; this I had discovered from practice usually devastated susceptible young men. But the reaction from Hugh was not quite right somehow. He returned my smile, certainly, but with a detached look and something rather like amusement in his deep set eyes.
However, I continued the act. ‘Oh look!’ I chirruped, ‘there’s a seat over there, Jeremy.’
Jeremy glanced towards the bench set under some lovely oak trees. ‘Come on, then. Let’s occupy it before anyone else sees it.’
‘Oh, Dr. Weatherby,’ I enthused, as we walked towards the shaded spot, ‘I do think this is the most marvellous thing you’re doing! It must mean very hard work for you.’
‘Yes,’ was the non-committal reply.
‘Don’t you find all this hardship a bit depressing?’ I pursued, trying to find some chink in his armour.
He started to say something but stopped, and after a slight pause said quietly: ‘Yes, there is certainly a lot of hardship for some people.’
I knew then that he was thinking, and had perhaps been going to say; What do you know of hardship with your pampered life?
It’s quite true, I thought bitterly. Suddenly I longed to share some of his burden of sorrow and pity, but I knew I should not easily be admitted to the sharing of his feelings. Already there was some sort of barrier between us, I could sense that. I did not know why, but I felt as though he resented or distrusted me.
As always when you care too much about a thing, you go about it the wrong way. I was trying hard to impress, and that was a mistake; a bad mistake.
Jeremy sat on the bench next to Hugh, and I sat gracefully on the grass by their feet. I remember Aunt Lucy telling me when I was a child; ‘Do you know why little girls are so popular? It is because they always have to look up to men.’ It was a lesson I hadn’t forgotten. I looked up at the two men in what I hoped was my impressed and interested manner.
Hugh was looking slightly embarrassed, as Jeremy fired his barrage of questions. However, after some thought, he answered each one meticulously and sensibly.
‘How long has this project been started?’ Jeremy asked, bringing his notebook and pencil into action.
‘The Home opened eighteen months ago, but of course there was an awful lot of spadework to do before we could get started properly.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, we had an awful lot of trouble with immigration visas and so on. Then the building had to be overhauled completely and a theatre fitted.’
‘Where did the money come from?’
‘We started on a good contribution from International Organisations. But now we’re on our own more or less. These organisations pay for transport and keep, but we provide treatment and everything else like drugs and X-rays and so on.’
‘Have you had a lot of voluntary contributions?’
Hugh’s face lightened up. ‘Oh gosh, yes. People have been so kind. They come in parties from surrounding districts, W.I.s, and Churches, and so on, and bring all sorts of stuff. Jam, garden produce, eggs, anything they can afford. Of course the main amount comes from this sort of thing ‒’ he gestured vaguely at the fun of the fair, still going on on the other side of the house. ‘A few wealthy people who are interested can do so much good, they introduce the gay young things,’ he added with a smile, ‘and we can support the Home for six months on the proceeds.’
Hugh smiled rather wanly, but I took the smile as a sign of approval and quickly supported Jeremy.
‘Yes, and then you could go on to explain a case, and say how he has been maintained by our ‒ well, by garden parties and fêtes. Mr. What’s-his-nameski in the wheelchair would make everyone feel sorry for him and they would contribute lots of ackers.’
Hugh was watching me strangely, and filled with exhilaration I cried: ‘Jeremy, I’ve got it!’
‘Women,’ muttered Jeremy, as he wrote down some notes. ‘What is it now, Einstein?’
‘Why don’t we bring a party down? You could make a splurge in the Globe and it would do the Home no end of good.’
Hugh seemed to be taking notice, and satisfied with his reaction, I went on quickly; ‘We could make it next week-end when there’s yacht racing at Woolhaven. We could get a whole crowd to come.’
‘H’m,’ said Jeremy. ‘That’s more sensible than most of your suggestions. ‘‘Famous Surgeon’s Daughter Organises Operation Rescue”.’ He printed the words in the air. ‘Well, we’ll forget this lot,’ he said, indicating his notebook. ‘Mustn’t do two stories on the same theme, the Ed. might think I’m plugging.’ He winked at Hugh. ‘Okay, sweetie. When?’
‘Next week-end. Tommy Ryan will be racing his boat at Woolhaven, and we can make up the party on Sunday. Cynthia will come if he does, and Teddy Boyle will fall in and the rest will follow. There you are, the crème de la crème.’
Hugh started to say something.
‘Not a word, old man,’ interrupted Jeremy. ‘It’s really no trouble to arrange it all, and you should make quite a good haul.’
‘Look ‒’ broke in Hugh, ‘when I said outings I didn’t mean ‒ that is, I wasn’t hinting ‒’
‘We know,’ I interrupted warmly. ‘There is really no need for you to worry, we quite understand. And it will be fun to look over the Home.’
Hugh looked at me hard for a moment and said quietly; ‘You do realise it’s not Henley Regatta. It isn’t anything to show off to people.’ He paused, as if about to say something else, but at this moment the little nurse who had been with him before, came up and stood quietly waiting for him to finish, but he had seen her, and turning to her, said curtly; ‘Yes? What is it? I thought I told you to go back.’
She looked rather shaken by his abrupt tone, and replied apologetically; ‘I’m sorry. Dr. Greenbaum would like a word with you.’
‘What about?’
‘I ‒ I think he’s rather interested in the ankle arthrodesis you have just done.’
‘Oh, very well. Where is he?’
‘He’s in the hall.’
‘Thanks,’ he said, and added abruptly, ‘Now get back to the Home for goodness sake.’
She hurried away, and Hugh stood up. ‘I must go,’ he said coldly. ‘Good-bye.’ Turning from us abruptly, he walked quickly away across the lawn towards the house.
‘Well, there’s gratitude for you!’ expostulated Jeremy. ‘Honestly!’
‘Perhaps he thinks we’re laughing at him,’ I said wonderingly. ‘Jeremy ‒ perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to make up this party after all?’
‘Nonsense,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll get on to Tommy the moment I get back to town. And you start your end moving. Write to some of your friends.’
‘Oh, all right. If you’re sure it’s the right thing to do.’
‘Right thing? Of course it is. I’ve got to get a story out of this somehow.’
‘Shall we go now?’ I suggested, feeling somehow a bit dashed.
Jeremy concurred, and we were just walking towards the front drive where Jeremy’s car was parked, when I heard my name called in a loud voice.
‘Good heavens, it’s Robert’s little gel,’ went on the loud voice. Turning, I saw I was fast being approached by that most noted of all bores, Sir Nigel Skinner.
‘Crumbs, I’m off,’ muttered Jeremy. ‘Meet you at the car.’
I looked round hopelessly for an escape route. None being available, I braced myself for the onslaught.
‘Sarah, m’dear, how are you? Grown into a big girl, haven’t you? And a very pretty one too if I might say so,’ he gurgled, pressing my hand.
Sir Nigel was a large florid man who was an excellent orthopaedic surgeon. It always amazed me that such a large, clumsy-looking man could perform such delicate fiddling operations ‒ at least it did unless I was looking at his hands, which were very small, with fine tapering fingers.
‘Well ‒ how are we getting on?’ he asked indulgently. ‘How many hearts have you tucked away under your twenty-three inch belt this season?’
He guffawed, and I let the remark pass, saying brightly, ‘How well you look, Sir Nigel. What are you doing here? It seems a long way from Harley Street.’
‘Oh, bless my soul, I’m on the Board of Governors of Redroof. Said I’d lend a hand this afternoon. They need all the help they can get. Must say that fellow Weatherby has worked wonders. Yes, he’s done a good job, a splendid job. Good surgeon too. But you don’t want to hear all this shop. How’s your mother? Haven’t seen her for ages. She was a pretty thing in her day.’
We ambled slowly round the lawn and I tried gently to guide him back to the topic of Hugh.
‘Was it all Dr. Weatherby’s idea?’ I asked casually.
‘H’mm, oh yes. Went on holidays, saw the camps, etc. I remember when I first met her, must be twenty years ago, quite. No, no, longer than that.’
‘Who?’ I asked, bewildered.
‘Your mother, of course. Yes, she wasn’t married then, but when she came on the market, Robert quickly snapped her up. Always had a quick eye, Robert. Didn’t give the other fellows a chance.’
I saw Jeremy waiting impatiently by his car, and at the same time I noticed Cynthia heading towards us.
‘Oh Cynthia,’ I called, in a slight pause in Sir Nigel’s reminiscences, ‘do you know Sir Nigel. This is my friend, Cynthia Fennell, Sir Nigel,’ I introduced. ‘I know how you love to have a pretty girl to talk to. I really must fly.’
Feeling rather a heel, and ignoring Cynthia’s daggered glance, I left them together.
A week later I found myself sitting next to Teddy Boyle in the back of Tommy Ryan’s fast red racing car, on the road from Woolhaven to the Redroof Home. Sitting next to Tommy in front, Cynthia made some scintillating remarks, usually with a sting in the tail.
‘I say,’ said Teddy, ‘will there be any hooch at this place. I’m feeling a little faint. There’s sure to be some medicinal brandy.’
‘No, there isn’t,’ I said firmly. ‘And I hope you’ve brought your cheque book.’
‘Wretched girl,’ said Teddy without heat. ‘If I hadn’t won that race in my little old chugger I’d call the whole thing off.’
‘Oh, wasn’t it fun!’ I cried, thinking back to the delicious salt spray whipping my face, as I sat next to Teddy in the Speedboat Race.
That afternoon I had slipped back into my old frivolous carefree self, and I felt hardly in the mood for Redroof.
Did I really want to give up all this expensive pleasure and settle down to helping the less fortunate? The dreams of a selfless life seemed to have receded. Perhaps, I told myself, it was only that Hugh attracted me, because being on the rebound from Clive, I had to find someone …
I thought about Clive as the young men exchanged badinage with Cynthia. In my bag was a letter I had received from him that morning. It was a kind of farewell, saying he was going to get transferred to a job in the Middle East. That letter had done more to make me regret him than all his impassioned appeals. Was I, I wondered, letting him go because as he said, I hadn’t the courage of my convictions? I had loved him once, I was sure. Or had I?
‘I suppose my little old bus has left the others miles behind,’ said Tommy. His ‘little old bus’ was t
he apple of his eye, and he was always laying himself out for compliments to it.
‘Natch,’ said Cynthia. ‘You can’t expect those beetles that Jeremy and Don drive to keep up with this Jet age vehicle.’
He smiled towards her, well pleased. Is she chasing Tommy now, I wondered ‒ then told myself not to be such a cat.
We arrived at the village green, surrounded by ancient trees and still more ancient cottages. The place was green and peaceful, and the red car standing in the narrow road looked contemptuous, as if defying local inhabitants to pass it.
‘Let’s have something to eat while the others catch up,’ suggested Tommy.
We strolled over the green, and found a little café, where we ordered a modest meal of eggs and chips. The sun shone through the bow window where we sat and made little patterns on the cloth and cutlery. I was glad Tommy had suggested a respite; it gave me a little time to think, and to adjust myself. What would Hugh think of us all? A little mad, perhaps, and with too much money. I found myself hoping he would think us at any rate kind-hearted and generous.
‘A penny for them, darling,’ drawled Cynthia. ‘You look as though you’re ready to throw up the world and take up nursing or something.’
This brought a roar of laughter from the two men.
‘Ha ha,’ said Teddy. ‘I can just see old Sarah in her whites, shoving the wrong end of the thermometer into some unsuspecting bod’s mouth.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m going to put some eggs and chips in mine, otherwise the others will have been round the Home before we get there.’
‘No one could miss Tommy’s magnificent automobile sitting out there,’ said Cynthia.
She was right, I thought, no one could possibly have missed it; and at that moment it seemed to me, like its owner, a trifle vulgar.
We finished our meal, and just as we were leaving the two other cars drew up, and with whoops the four occupants of each leapt out and into the café.
‘Slackers!’ they shouted as they entered.
‘Surely you haven’t been thinking of food at a time like this!’ said Jeremy.
‘What’s so urgent?’ asked Teddy.