“Then you haven’t quarreled with him?” Monica, it seemed, was intent on pursuing that particular point to the bitter end. With a tremendous effort Hilary managed to smile.
“We scarcely speak,” she admitted at length. Then, because Monica looked so utterly disbelieving and so upset on her friend’s behalf, she hurried to amend her statement.
“He’s busy, you know,” she excused him to his sister as she had so many times excused him to herself. “In the beginning, when I first went to work at Vale’s, he used to come up to the flat every evening. He said—” in spite of her firm resolve there was a faint quiver in her voice as she remembered how sweet it had been, “—he liked to be sure everything was in order, before everyone but old Sam and his dog left the store.”
“And now?” Monica prompted.
“Now—” the bitter note was back “—he doesn’t always say ‘good night, nurse,’ let alone come to see everything’s all right! I must have upset him in some way,” she blamed herself aloud. “I can’t think how but that must be it. I only wish I knew.”
“You’d know all right if you had upset him,” Monica announced with sisterly candor. “Mark could never let anything rest until he’d had it all out in the open! If you’ve upset him, as you say, then he’d have come to you and asked you to explain whatever it was. No—” Monica’s brows knitted together as she thought, “—it’s something he’s either imagined or been told, something neither he nor you will ever think of unless it’s pointed out to you. When did all this misunderstanding begin?” she queried.
“During the time the store was closed over Easter,” Hilary said quietly. “I can’t think why. My sister was at home, of course, and I spent most of the time with her.
We were both invited to the Vales’ house for Easter Sunday, but I expect that was because...” She paused. It wasn’t her secret, after all. It had belonged to Simon and Iris, and only when they had publicly announced their engagement would she be free to mention it herself. “Because old Mrs. Vale wanted to know what sort of person I am,” she ended lamely. “And out of courtesy, perhaps, she invited Iris along as well, rather than leave her at home alone.”
“Then perhaps old Mrs. Vale holds the key to the mystery,” Monica suggested, frowning. “We can’t possibly ask her, although I know she’s about the most understanding woman within the radius of at least a hundred miles! We’ll have to think of something else, or some way to ask her help and advice. I’ll think of something before I’m home again, you’ll see,” she vowed. “Meantime, I’ll tell mum you and Mark haven’t quarreled. That’ll cheer her up no end. She liked you very much the day you went to see her, remember? She’ll find out—tactfully, of course, you can rest assured on that—what’s happened from Mark’s point of view. That could well solve the whole thing, although somehow I’ve a feeling Laura Vale is the one person who might be able to put her finger on the trouble right away. I’ll have to work out how I can enlist her help.”
The discussion halted there, Hilary resolutely refusing Monica’s pressing invitation home to tea though every fiber of her being longed to accept. Seeing her out of the confines of the first-aid center or the little flat where Simon and several other people now sought her out so that it was no longer a refuge, he might see her with different eyes. He liked me when I called that first time, she thought, remembering. Maybe it’s because he’s too busy at the store to have any time at all for personal things... But common sense told her that wasn’t true, and that when the time arrived for the store to close he could well have taken the half hour to join her in a cup of tea as he unwound from the mental stresses of the day.
Someone else as well as Monica had the idea that the solution to Nurse Hilary’s problem lay with the capable Laura Vale. Nita, dressing with even more than her customary care, was preparing to keep her appointment with the owner of Vale’s.
Mrs. Vale was one of those people who believe punctuality to be one of the prime virtues, and knowing this, Nita made a point of arriving exactly on time, not a second before the huge clock in the hall struck the appointed hour of four o’clock and not a second later.
“Mrs. Vale’s waiting for you, Mrs. Dewhirst,” Kate beamed as she admitted her to the house. They knew one another slightly, and although she had said nothing in actual words, Nita sensed the housekeeper’s approval as she took Nita’s coat.
Nita followed Kate to the small room known to family and friends alike as Grandpa’s Den. It was here Laura’s husband used to do his accounts, manage the affairs of the store and his other enterprises, and here his widow, all these years after his death, preferred to attend to any business connected with Vale’s.
Nita’s extraordinary memory flashed backward in time to when she won the beauty competition. A junior girl reporter on the Hortown Gazette had done a really excellent piece on the subject, and later, when Nita returned to Hortown, still covered in a faint blaze of local glory, Kate Lusty had stopped her in the street one day and told her that piece of reporting had been the means of landing her with the job of her life. She had gone as secretary to Laura Vale shortly after that, and, or so Nita had learned much later, the housekeeping part had been added on inadvertently, when Marion Fisher, who had been housekeeper at Cresta for years, suddenly suffered a stroke. When she had failed to recover and Laura had flinched for a time from all thought of having anyone else to replace the greatly loved Marion, Joan had stepped into the breach as a temporary measure.
She had told Nita since, that the house ran itself. “Everything’s automatic or electric that can be,” she had declared, and with the help of two women who came in three times in the week to clean through, to attend to the washing and ironing, and the man to do all the odd jobs necessary outside, Kate had felt she quite enjoyed her new responsibilities, and the arrangement suited both herself, Mr. Simon and Laura Vale very well.
“I’m more like a special niece or something,” she had confided in Nita. “And I love it! The Vales have a way of making a body feel they matter as a person, and that means a great deal in these days when the tendency is to make everyone just another number.”
Nita had smiled at the time, preferring her own way of life, the independence her job gave her, as well as the extra comforts it brought to Ron and herself. But Kate, she remembered, had no one but the Vales, her parents and her fiancé being killed together in a multiple coach crash on a Continental autobahn. It must make her feel good to live here, she reasoned now, as Kate opened the door and Laura Vale looked up from her desk, a smile of welcome on her pleasant face.
“Right on time, Mrs. Dewhirst,” she commented. “Thank you, Kate. Have you time to make tea?”
No orders, nothing bossy about Mrs. Laura, Nita reflected, yet who within the orbit of Vale’s would dream of disobeying her slightest wish or of not aiming to please in every way?
She sat down in the chair indicated and listened as Laura began to outline her own plans for the way the fashion parade should be held.
“We mustn’t aim at any one age group,” she said sagely. “The people who’ll buy tickets for this affair will be all manner of folks, from sober-minded grannies like myself—” her impish smile flashed out, and Nita smiled in response: there was nothing in the least of a “sober-minded grannie” about Laura Vale, “—to young mothers who want their children to look either just that bit better dressed or just that little more outrageously dressed than the rest of the children in Hortown! Then there’ll be the young marrieds and, perhaps, a sprinkling of those about to be married, although I think we shall somehow have scooped the pool on that group for the time being!”
“We’ve had an awful lot of bridal groups in since Easter and onward,” Nita concurred. “But there’ll soon be a new spate, for the August holiday.”
They laughed together like two conspirators, and then Laura became serious and presented a neatly written list of suggestions she had made.
They pored over the list together, making more suggestions to be incorp
orated, some to be omitted as better ideas grew. When Kate brought in the tea tray she was invited to join in the discussion, and for a long time the three of them worked at it until everything was settled to Laura’s satisfaction.
“I’m so grateful to everyone,” she said as Kate put the papers together ready to file them. “I like the personal touch of the Friendly Association. So much more a personal thing than a national effort, I always think, although of course,” she conceded, “they do a great deal of good as well. This—” she gestured to the files in Kate’s hands as she left them “—means a lot of work for everyone at Vale’s, but—” her eyes twinkled “—my grandson would say I’m always quoting things that are too far back. I believe strongly in the theory that one should ‘cast thy bread on the waters,’ when one is in the fortunate position of having even a little bread to cast!”
“It’s a wonderful effort, Mrs. Vale,” Nita acknowledged, “and I know from my own experience that it’s, as you say, a personal thing. That’s what makes it so extra wonderful. I expect Nurse Bell will take to the idea as well,” she said boldly, wondering if Laura would suddenly “freeze” and tell her to mind her own business! She wouldn’t dismiss her from Vale’s, Nita knew, but she could make life there uncomfortable if she disapproved of what she could well mistake for criticism of Simon and his affairs. “If she’s really going to become part of Vale’s, that is,” she concluded, burning her boats.
Laura sat upright, her keen glance studying Nita’s face. She felt she “knew” people, especially when she had more than a little to do with them. She felt she “knew” Nita Dewhirst, and because of that she also felt that in some way the woman was trying to warn her. She bit back the sharp, reproving retort that had sprung to her lips and settled herself more comfortably in her chair.
“Something must have made you think along those lines, Nita,” she said with friendly familiarity. “Suppose you tell me just what you have heard and from whom?”
“I don’t suppose it’s anything like what I’ve imagined, Mrs. Vale,” Nita began deprecatingly, “But it’s there ... and I thought it better to ask you rather than to believe gossip.”
“That was very wise, Nita,” Laura nodded approval. “I wish all young people were as sensible as that! Now then,” she commanded, “tell me just what it is you’ve heard as gossip, and I’ll be able to tell you—if I know—just how much truth there is in whatever it is you’ve been told.”
“That ... Simon’s spending a great deal of time at Nurse Bell’s house when she’s not living in the store flat,” Nita said briefly. “That he’s there almost every evening she’s there and the two schoolteachers who live there in term time are away, and that his car’s outside the house until all hours of the morning. No one could mistake his car,” she added. “It’s the only one of its kind around here.”
“Quite so.” Laura, Nita felt astonished, did not appear in the least disturbed by these revelations. Perhaps this time Aida was right after all, and Simon really was interested in the pretty nurse! “His car is outside the Bell house whenever Nurse is at home, I know,” she said, half-smiling. “And I’m delighted. Tell me, Nita—” her tone changed abruptly, became confidential “—have you met Nurse’s sister, the one who’s away most of the time, teaching at some college up north?”
“No.” Nita hesitated, then added honestly, “I know she’s been to the store, but I was modeling at the time and didn’t meet her. I don’t think many people did. She stayed in the first-aid center until Hilary took her to see the flat, and then Simon took them both home...”
“Then you must meet Iris,” Laura said calmly. “She’ll be home again soon, you know, and very soon she’ll be home to stay. Can you keep a secret, Nita?” she asked mischievously.
“I think so, Mrs. Vale.” Excitement was beginning to stir in Nita’s veins. Perhaps she had been right after all, and there was some logical, reasonable explanation for Simon’s attentiveness to Hilary.
“She doesn’t want to announce their engagement until she has left her teaching position,” Laura said calmly. “But it’s Nurse’s sister, not Hilary herself, who’s the attraction where my grandson is concerned. I understood from him—although this, you must remember, is merely a supposition—that young Mark Dawson was—how shall I put it—looking in the direction of Hilary herself, and I must say that prospect delights me almost as much as does the idea of having Iris Bell as a granddaughter-in-law!”
“Then Hilary’s worrying herself sick without any real reason—unless you count the fact that Mark Dawson’s literally cut her off from all communication with himself since Easter, and he looks about as happy as a chicken caught out in a thunderstorm!” Nita said quickly. “If only I could make him see Aida Everett’s—”
Whatever she had been about to say of the buyer was cut off short as Laura pounced on the words.
“What has she got to do with all this, Nita?” she asked sharply. “I don’t care for that young woman and never did! She’s clever at her job, I’ll grant that, but she’s clever in a number of other ways as well! Those are the reasons I can’t stand her, as a person. There are other good buyers! What is it you’d like to make Aida see?” she pressed.
“Only that Simon couldn’t possibly call on Hilary when she’s at the flat, and when it’s her sister and not Hilary he wants to see there wouldn’t be much point in calling when she was away!” Nita said, a little confusedly. “Mark Dawson ought to realize, too, that there is more than one Miss Bell. I thought it strange that Simon was interested in Hilary, apart from the fact that she’s acting as Vale’s nurse for a time. She isn’t really his type of person—as a companion, I mean—at all!”
“But Iris is,” Laura said with satisfaction. “She’s just the ideal companion I’ve dreamed of for Simon. I’d almost given up believing “ She let the sentence die away into nothingness, then added with a return to her customary brisk mode of speech, “One should never give up, Nita, remember that! If the desire’s the right one, press on, no matter how difficult the way! I should have remembered that myself,” she said, speaking more to herself than to the girl who listened. “I’d almost come to believe I’d have to make a trust for the dependents of the firm, since it seemed unlikely that Simon intended to marry and have a family of his own! That’s all in the past now,” she continued, resuming her businesslike attitude. “Now, and don’t feel guilty ... this is for the good of all concerned, her own included ... just what has Aida Everett done or said to make you think my grandson was interested in Hilary Bell?”
“Just kept a record of when she’s seen his car there, and the times,” Nita said quietly. “I believe she’s let Mr. Dawson know, too, probably in a roundabout way.”
“The things half said are a good deal more dangerous than the ones said and done out in the open,” the old lady said crisply. “Bringing things into the open isn’t exactly one of Aida’s distinctions, though, is it?” That was the nearest she had ever come to saying what she had thought of the two scandals that had involved Aida so many years ago—scandals Laura had never forgotten. “We’ll combine to deal with Miss Everett,” she said briefly. “Listen to me...”
When Nita left Cresta her mind was filled with Laura’s many plans; for the success of the Friendly Association’s afternoon, and for the sorting out of the emotional problems of two of the people who worked in her beloved store. She would have loved to have gone straight to Hilary and told her what Laura had said, but she had been sworn to secrecy, and she was sensible enough to know that a great deal depended on her successfully holding her tongue.
If Hilary had guessed Aida wanted Mark Dawson so badly that she was prepared to make insinuations about the owner of the store and the nurse who worked there, she would have been profoundly upset. Better, Nita thought, for her to be a little unhappy, a little uncertain as she was at present, than for her to know anyone seemed to hate her enough to do this to her hopes and her dreams!
“I don’t think she does hate Hilary—o
r even dislike her,” Nita said aloud to herself. “She’s just full of jealousy where Mark Dawson’s concerned. If he’d taken no notice of Hilary, then I don’t think Aida would have done so, either, except to sneer—as she’s done ever since Simon had the first-aid center made—at the thought of a nurse being on permanent duty at the store! Yet Hilary fitted in beautifully, and she’s been a wonderful help, in many more ways than just giving out headache tablets and so on, as Aida had suggested is all she does!”
Difficult as it was, especially when she caught a glimpse of Hilary’s quietly controlled face when they met each morning of the week, Nita firmly held back all desire to confide in the girl. She contented herself by smiling, making jocular remarks—and feeling unbearably foolish when Hilary scarcely responded—telling the girl to cheer up, and that things were never quite so bad as they seemed.
Hilary dutifully smiled at the weak jokes, agreed when Nita suggested there would be an improvement in things soon, without once relaxing the guard she had put around herself. She would have to be very careful, she had warned herself seriously. When she had seen Nita and Mark standing together and talking for a time it had been most difficult not to ask Nita if she, Hilary, had been the subject of the conversation. Guessing a little of the kind of thoughts that must have been passing through the nurse’s head, Nita had taken pains to let her know the discussion had been mainly about the line Laura Vale had proposed the fashion parade should adopt, and finding Mark in complete agreement. Hilary didn’t know whether she was pleased or hurt that, apparently, her name had not been mentioned at all!
“Don’t be such a Contrary Mary!” she admonished herself firmly. “Either you’re going to be content to stay here until the year is up and mind your own business, remember that the private lives of the other members of the staff of Vale’s has nothing whatsoever to do with you, or you’re going to apply to Matron and ask if you may come back to St. David’s, in any capacity whatsoever, as soon as possible!” And the night before the celebrated Friendly Association’s charity afternoon, she decided to do exactly that!
Change of Duty Page 10
