Kit Cavendish-Private Nurse

by Margaret Malcolm

  “Perhaps he hoped you’d changed your mind,” Jason suggested quietly.

  “I don’t think so,” Kit said simply. “For one thing, would he have left it as long as all that? And for another, since I came here, he has never given any indication that he’s in the least bit interested in me.”

  “And yet, you know, Kit, surely it must have taken some effort to find you? And how did he know that you were doing private nursing, in any case?”

  “I don’t know,” Kit looked puzzled. “I never thought of that.”

  “Do you know what it suggests to me?” Jason asked slowly. “That though you’ve seen nothing of him all these years, he’s kept tabs on you. I don’t suppose it would be difficult. Probably he knows people who are still in touch with your parents. And an odd word here and there ... if one is interested...”

  Despite the sunshine, Kit shivered.

  “I don’t like it, Jason,” she told him.

  “No, nor do I, particularly when I remember...”

  He left the sentence uncompleted, yet Kit had the feeling that his thoughts were not concentrated on the present problem, but had gone back in time, though how Victor could have been concerned in that earlier trouble she could not see.

  Suddenly she jumped to her feet, unable to prolong the strange interlude of intimacy another moment.

  “You know, I feel as if I’m sitting on a keg of gunpowder!” she said breathlessly.

  Jason stood up, his face grave.

  “Yes, you’re right. It’s an explosive state of affairs, and the deuce of it is that we could be the ones to light the fuse—if we say anything, or if we don’t.”

  “Are you planning to see Mr. Baylis again?” Kit asked anxiously.

  “I hadn’t planned to for the moment,” he said. “Of course, Grainger would let me know if there was any need.” He looked down at her searchingly. “Why? Do you feel I should?”

  “It was just that I was wondering if you did come, whether you could see both Mrs. Baylis and Noel afterward and emphasize the need for Mr. Baylis not to be upset. Make it very clear to them that there will always be the danger...”

  “Yes,” Jason said thoughtfully. “Yes, I could do that. It might do some good, unless—Kit, what was it you said about Mr. Baylis’s will?”

  “Noel said that he was quite sure Mrs. Baylis didn’t want her husband to die because if he did, she would no longer have control of the firm,” Kit recalled.

  “I wonder who would?” Jason pondered. “Hardly Wrinch—he’s nothing to do with the family. But Noel...” He paused significantly.

  “No!” Kit put her hands up as if to defend herself. “No, I can’t believe it. Noel is too fond of his father. Besides, even though he is Mr. Baylis’s son, is it likely that he would be left in charge of a huge concern like that when he doesn’t know the first thing about it?”

  “We seem to be getting deeper and deeper into the mire,” Jason said grimly. “No, I suppose not, particularly as you say he’s never shown any interest in the firm.”

  “None, according to both his father and Sue Day,” Kit said promptly, unaware how mistaken she was in saying that.

  “Then that looks like a dead end,” Jason admitted, and ruffled his hair with his long fingers in a way that made Kit’s heart turn over.

  But Jason must have misread any change of expression on her face, for very gently he put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Kit, don’t worry too much, my dear,” he advised. “You know, we’re all up against this problem of personalities in our job. You know we’ve both seen patients who ought to have got better but don’t because they don’t try. And others who by all the rules of the game ought to die but live to have the laugh on us simply because they’ve got what it takes. And nothing gives me so much of a kick as to be proved wrong in circumstances like that. Mr. Baylis could be one of those, you know.”

  “Yes, perhaps he could be,” Kit admitted more cheerfully. “I do hope so, Jason.”

  There was a little silence. Then with a gentle pat on Kit’s shoulder, Jason let his hand drop.

  “Time I was going,” he said briskly. “How about you?”

  “Yes, I must start now. It’s a good four miles back.”

  “Let me give you a lift,” Jason suggested.

  It was a temptation to agree, but Kit shook her head.

  “I’d rather not, Jason,” she said diffidently.

  “I’d like to ... very much, Kit,” he assured her quietly.

  “Not ... not today, Jason, please. Not after all the beastly things we’ve been talking about. They would get mixed up in my mind altogether, and I don’t want them to...” She looked at him pleadingly, wondering just how much of her confused explanation he understood.

  “All right, Kit, I see what you mean,” he said with no attempt to argue. “And there’s something in it. But remember, one of these days, we’re going to have a proper outing together, and when that happens, I’m going to provide the lunch!”

  He strode down the hill to where his car was parked on the road below, waved his hand and drove off.

  Kit, her mind in a whirl, set out for Moneyhill. Something had happened today, and it was not just that Jason had been extremely understanding and wise about what she had told him.

  She knew, though she could not have explained how, that they were nearer to one another now than they had been at any time since she had come to Moneyhill. He was just like the Jason she remembered from the old days, before he had sent that letter.

  With her mind full of daydreams, she walked briskly, hardly aware of her surroundings.

  Then, quite suddenly, she stopped.

  She had honestly thought that she had told Jason the whole story, but now she realized she had left one thing unsaid.

  She’d made no mention at all of Sue’s absurd idea that Noel was in love with her.

  “Well, I’m glad I didn’t,” she told herself. “It was bad enough having to tell him about Victor wanting to marry me, though I don’t see how it could be avoided. But I certainly don’t want him to think that I’m the sort of girl who imagines every man is going to fall in love with her! And anyway. I can’t see that it matters. It really isn’t of any importance.”

  But in that, she was completely wrong.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Shortly after Kit’s unexpected meeting with Jason on Flack Hill, Mr. Baylis paid two visits to the hospital, first for an X ray of his leg, and a little later, for the removal of the plaster cast.

  “And that’s a step forward in more ways than one,” he remarked to Kit afterward with satisfaction. “Oh yes, I know the muscles of that leg have to get into working order again before I can get around much, but at least we can get on with it. It’s doing nothing that I’ve found so irksome.”

  “You’ve been very patient,” Kit told him appreciatively. “If I’d been in your position, I’d have thrown things at everybody who came near me on two sound legs!”

  “Well, I tried that once, didn’t I?” Mr. Baylis remarked wryly, “And look where it got me!” He paused momentarily. “You know, Nurse, I’ve been thinking about that—oh, not the incident itself, but the fact that I lost my temper.”

  “Yes?” Kit encouraged.

  “Yes. You know, when I was a child, I used to lose my temper if I didn’t get my own way. I suppose most children are like that. But you soon learn, if you have sensible parents, as I had, that it doesn’t get you anywhere. And the sooner you learn that, the better it is for everybody concerned, including yourself.”

  “I know,” Kit agreed. “I remember my mother telling us—my brothers and sister and myself—that whether we liked it or not, there’s only one world for. everybody to share, and the sooner we realized that we had no right to expect a bigger or better share than other people, the more we’d enjoy what we had.”

  “A very sensible woman,” Mr. Baylis approved. “But the trouble comes when you do get a bigger share. Oh, I’ve worked hard for it and I think I ca
n honestly say I’ve never taken advantage of anyone in a deal. But...” He paused, marshaling his thoughts. “You know, Nurse, when you’re on the way up, you have to mind your P’s and Q’s. For example, no matter how good a man may be at his job, he isn’t likely to be made a foreman if he has a hair-trigger temper or a chip on his shoulder. No, he must be a chap who gets on with his fellow men and whom they trust. And that almost certainly means he has himself well in hand.”

  “Yes, I see,” Kit said softly so that she should not disturb the trend of his thoughts.

  “But far trickier than the ability to get on with your fellow workers is the gift of being able to keep a fair balance between their interests and those of the boss. I was lucky. I had my training in a small company where the boss knew everybody personally. There was precious little he didn’t know about any troubles they might have at home, and I know that more than likely, he’d do his best to put things right. I certainly know that he helped me once, when things were tight. Well, mine’s a bigger concern than his ever was and it simply isn’t possible to keep such a close contact—don’t know that people would welcome it these days, either. All the same, everything runs smoothly, and that’s the best proof there is that everybody is reasonably satisfied.” He paused. “At least, I assumed they were.”

  “Oh, I’m sure—” Kit said quickly.

  “Well, I’m not.” Mr. Baylis pondered. “The truth is, for years now I’ve been too busy to find time to take stock—of myself, among other things. And I might tell you, Nurse, it pulled me up with a round turn to realize how easily I lost my temper with Wrinch. Oh, I know I wasn’t well and he was extremely irritating. But that isn’t the point. I never used to behave like that because I knew it didn’t pay, and it made me wonder if unconsciously I’d slipped into the habit of it. And I realized that I had. It’s all too easy, of course. Your word law, no one to tell you that you’re making a fool of yourself ... Yes, it’s easy, but that’s no excuse. It just won’t do.”

  “You mean, if the boss loses his temper with someone, that person is likely to behave in the same way when dealing with his subordinate and...”

  “And so it goes on, all down the line,” Mr. Baylis nodded grimly. “Yes, that’s it. Well, as I’ve said, I’ve had my lesson. There’ll be no more of it.”

  Kit hesitated. Her patient had never spoken so freely and revealingly as this before, and she knew that it was an opportunity she might never have again. Yet she hesitated to take on herself the responsibility for enlarging on what he had said. But Mr. Baylis noticed her hesitation.

  “Yes, Nurse? Something on your mind?”

  “I was just wondering if you realized how important what you’ve just said is from another point of view,” Kit explained.

  Mr. Baylis grinned like an overgrown schoolboy.

  “Oh, my own health, you mean,” he said. “Yes, I realize that. Just the other day I had a letter from Heathfield, punching that point home. He said he thought I was the sort of man who might take notice of the written word more than the spoken—he’s right there. When a man commits his remarks to paper, he’s given considerable thought to them, and a busy man like Heathfield doesn’t waste his time unnecessarily. Here, read it.” And rummaging under a pile of papers, he took out a sheet and handed it to Kit.

  That it was a sincere letter Kit did not doubt, but it was also brilliantly clever. Without being alarming, Jason stated his opinion of Mr. Baylis’s condition in blunt, unequivocal terms.

  “And while, if the need arises, we will do our best to patch you up again,” Jason wrote, “you can surely see that the less patching there has to be, the better. In general terms, that means no excesses of any sort, but in particular (and you will appreciate why I’m putting emphasis on this) it means that in dealing with other people you must remain master of your own mind and will, and then you will find, I believe, that this strength is appreciated by others. As a result, you will be less likely to be subjected to the irritating behavior that precipitated your last relapse.”

  “He’s got something, you know,” Mr. Baylis commented as Kit folded the letter and passed it back. “If I’d given Wrinch a quiet order, he wouldn’t have argued. He’s that sort.”

  And because Kit agreed, she Said nothing. But she could not help wondering how Mrs. Baylis would respond to the same sort of treatment when Mr. Baylis resumed work.

  Would she be able to step down gracefully in his favor or did power mean as much to her as Noel believed?

  Only time would show. In the meantime, Kit wondered if, as well as the letter she had just read, Jason had also written to Mrs. Baylis and Noel, and how they had taken the warning he would undoubtedly have given.

  It was, in fact, from Mrs. Baylis herself that Kit learned that Jason had written to her, and also that she had interpreted it in a way Kit was sure Jason had never intended.

  At Mr. Baylis’s suggestion, Kit had come downstairs one evening to watch a television program with him and Mrs. Baylis. It recorded a visit paid by a B.B.C. team to a Ravenslea factory, and Mr. Baylis was particularly interested in it because the owner was his best friend and keenest rival.

  “Tom ... Tom Fleming ... and I were pals when we were youngsters,” he told Kit. “We were always in and out of each other’s homes and there’s precious little he and I don’t know about each other. If Tom gave his word I’d take it without further evidence, and he’d do the same with me. All the same, we never go poking into each other’s affairs, and as a matter of fact, we’ve never visited each other’s plant. So,” he said with a chuckle, “I’m getting one up on him seeing this film, though I bet he’s seen to it that he’s given nothing away that he doesn’t want to!”

  The film started with Mr. Fleming being interviewed in his own office by the B.B.C. representative. Kit took an instant liking to Mr. Baylis’s old friend. He was a kindly though not particularly good-looking man. His manner was quietly authoritative, but there was no suggestion of either aggressiveness or self-complacency. The sort of man, Kit thought, one would both like and trust.

  After the interview was concluded there followed a tour around the plant, and Kit was quick to realize that when information was wanted, instead of Mr. Fleming giving it, he would beckon one of the foremen to join the little group.

  “Tom all over,” Mr. Baylis commented. “Always willing to step back and let someone else have the limelight—so long as they know their job. Hey, that’s odd!” He leaned forward in his chair.

  “What, dear?” Mrs. Baylis asked in a voice that suggested she was rather bored with the whole thing.

  “There was a chap on the right of the picture—I only caught a glimpse of him before someone else stepped in front of him, but I could have sworn it was Joe Benson. Couldn’t have been, of course—he’s one of our old faithfuls. He’d never leave us!” Mrs. Baylis made no comment and her husband turned sharply to her.

  “Has he left us, Ruth?”

  “As a matter of fact, he has,” Mrs. Baylis admitted casually. “Shortly after Christmas. You know how it is. There always tends to be a drift from one factory to another in the New Year. After all, it’s quite sensible from the men’s point of view. They’ve had their Christmas bonuses from the old firm, and there’s time enough to get well worked in for the summer holiday bonus from the new one. We lost several men ... and replaced them quite easily.”

  “Yes, I know all that.” Mr. Baylis frowned. “But I’d never have thought that Joe...” He shook his head. “Oh well, there it is. But I’m sorry we’ve lost him. He’s a good man.”

  The program came to an end and Mrs. Baylis stood up so quickly to switch the TV off that Kit felt it was a hint for her to leave them. But before she could stand up, Mr. Baylis began talking to her.

  “I found that very interesting,” he remarked. “All the more so, of course, because Noel is working there now.”

  “Is he?” Kit asked, unable to hide her surprise.

  “Yes, young devil,” his father chuckled. “D
id a spell there without saying a word to me during his last long vacation. To see if he liked the work, he had the nerve to tell me.”

  “And he does?” Kit asked.

  “Yes, I’m glad to say. He’s doing six months with Tom so that he’s not a complete fool when he starts with us. And then he’ll come into our office.” He drew a deep sigh. “I can’t tell you how I’m looking forward to having him with me, Nurse. It’s been my ambition ever since he was born ... and the best incentive I could have to get better, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Kit said warmly. “I hope you have many happy years working together, Mr. Baylis.”

  “Thank you, my dear, that’s very kind of you, isn’t it, Ruth?” Mr. Baylis said appreciatively.

  But Mrs. Baylis was on the point of leaving the room and did not appear to have heard what he said, for she made no answer.

  A little later, when Kit was going upstairs, Mrs. Baylis called to her from the study.

  “Oh, Nurse, can you spare me a minute, please?”

  It was quite pleasantly said, but Kit had a feeling of apprehension as she went into the room and heard the door close behind her.

  “Do sit down,” Mrs. Baylis said, taking her own chair at the desk. “Now, I want to have a word with you, Nurse, about what has just happened.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Baylis?” Kit said quietly.

  Mrs. Baylis leaned slightly forward, her hands loosely clasped on the polished top of the table.

  “You will appreciate, from what my husband has just said, that he believes he will be able to work again?” Mrs. Baylis began.

  “Why, yes,” Kit answered. “I realized that.”

  “And, in fact, you encouraged him to think that he is right,” Mrs. Baylis went on accusingly.

  “But so he is, Mrs. Baylis.” Kit said earnestly. “If he goes on as well as he is doing at present, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t—”

  “There is every reason, Nurse Cavendish,” Mrs. Baylis interrupted crisply. “It’s very sad, of course, but there it is, and it has to be accepted.”