The cut was made, David gently parted the membranes, reached in and lifted out the baby. Jane acted as midwife while Maurice acted as scrub nurse. She took the slippery, feebly yelling little mite and laid it – no, not it, laid her – on the table which had been all they'd been able to find to act as a cot. The baby looked good.
She stepped up to the mother's head, smiled down at the desperate face and said, ‘C'est une petite fille. Elle est belle.’ The mother smiled, and Jane looked up to see both David and Maurice silently laughing.
The storm continued, unabated, and still no one could reach them. As Dr Berfay had said, they were now more concerned with nursing than medicine. There were many offers of help, but all had to be carefully supervised. She fell into a routine and for the next four days she worked regular nineteen-hour days. David did the same.
She saw little of him. There was the chance of an odd kiss, a hug occasionally, but mostly they worked.
She had never been so tired. Then one morning there came the roar of engines outside and the sound of cheering. She stared uncomprehendingly as tough-looking men in uniform came through the front door.
From somewhere David came over and put his arm round her. ‘The professionals have arrived,’ he said. ‘Now we can go home.’
The handover didn't take too long. There were quick goodbyes and thanks. She kissed Maurice, the doctor who'd had a baptism of fire in the past five days. Dr Berfay was staying, and he looked happy to be among his old compatriots. Ambulances took the more serious cases away first, and then Jean-Claude, a vastly different man from the dapper maitre d'hotel they'd first met, drove them back down to his hotel. It was four in the afternoon.
‘It would be an honour for me,’ Jean-Claude said, ‘if you would come down to dinner in … when shall we say?’
‘A couple of hours,’ she said promptly. ‘I need to have a bath first, and not just an ordinary bath but a long, long soak. And my hair!’
‘In two hours' time, then.’ He indicated his stained clothes. ‘I shall myself find it pleasant to dress properly.’
The clothes she had been wearing were bundled into a plastic bag. On the bed she laid out the teddy Sue had bought her and a new dress. Her make-up was ready on the dressing-table. And all this time the bath was filling.
As he passed, David bent over to kiss her. ‘No!’ she commanded. ‘Not yet. I'm tired, dirty, and smelly. You can kiss me when I've joined the human race again.’
He kissed her anyway. ‘I don't care how dirty you are,’ he said.
The bath was sheer bliss. She poured the luxurious hotel bath oil into it and David brought her a cup of tea to drink. For half an hour she just lay there, feeling the weariness ease out of her body. When she'd entered the bedroom she'd still been hyper and, even though fatigued, her body and mind had still been ready to work. Now the excitement left her. There was nothing more for her to do.
Eventually she sat up, reached for the hand spray, and washed her hair. She mustn't be too selfish. David would need a bath as well. Wrapping one towel round her hair and one round her body, she walked back into the bedroom. Now she knew why he hadn't come to talk to her. Dressed in his gown, he was asleep on the bed.
‘Bath time, David,’ she whispered. ‘Wake up.’
He blinked up at her. ‘Not asleep,’ he mumbled. ‘Just … I'll have a bath.’
They went down to dinner as they'd intended to do every evening, a well-dressed couple in a luxury hotel. They were met by Jean-Claude, now as dapper as ever in black and white. He conducted them to their table, reverently produced a dark bottle and showed the label to David. ‘We have been keeping a dozen of these for a special occasion,’ he said. ‘I believe this is a special occasion.’
David looked aghast. ‘But, Jean-Paul, that's a vintage...’
Jean-Paul deftly drew the cork and poured two glassfuls. ‘This is with my compliments. It is a small gesture to thank you for what you have done.’
‘Then sit down and have a glass of it with us.’
Jean-Paul looked horrified. ‘I could not sit in my own dining room!’
‘Please,’ Jane said. ‘We'd really like you to.’
So, ill at ease, Jean-Claude sat with them.
She tasted the wine, doing what David did, smelling it then holding it in her mouth before swallowing. At first it was just wine, but then … she knew that the five pound bottles of red from the supermarket would never be the same again.
The meal was a delight. After the adequate but ordinary food she'd had for the past few days, it was a revelation. And she enjoyed the feeling of luxury, the unobtrusive service, the candles on the table, the shine of glass and silver.
At the end of the meal Jean-Claude came over and said, ‘There are messages for you, Dr Kershaw, from your hospital.’
‘Lose them,’ David said. ‘We're going back tomorrow. I'll bother about the hospital then.’
He turned to her. ‘That was a wonderful meal. Shall we round it off with an Armagnac at the bar?’
‘No. But I want you to have one. I'll go to bed. See you there.’
‘In ten minutes,’ he said.
Jean-Claude served David ‘the brandy, once again with the compliments of the house.’ David sipped the rich, warm liquid and smiled.
Earlier that day he'd thought he couldn't be more tired, and all he'd wanted had been to go to bed and sleep for a week. But, as a doctor, he'd been tired before. And the meal he'd just had, the wine and now the brandy, had reinvigorated him. And upstairs waiting for him was Jane. He no longer felt tired.
There were arrangements to check for the next day, but Jean-Claude assured him that all was in hand. He finished his brandy and walked upstairs.
Jane was waiting for him. He'd never met a woman quite like her before – so happy, so carefree. He'd never met a woman who excited him quite so much. She was so alive, her body so rich. A shiver of anticipation ran through him. Now, at long last, they would be together. They would make love. And it would be love, not sex. Now he was certain – he loved her.
He unlocked their door and paused as it clicked closed behind him. Jane's dress was hanging neatly over a chair, and there was the frill of black lace underwear there as well. The room was in half-darkness for she had switched off all the lights but for the two at the head of the bed. He could see the long streams of golden hair spread over the pillow.
He walked to the side of the bed, bent over and kissed her gently on the cheek. She made no sign. Her eyes were closed. He could just hear her deep breathing, see the gentle rise and fall of the sheet over her breast.
Stepping back, he took off his own clothes and stood naked by her. Dimly, in the long mirror across the room he could see the dark image of himself, ghostlike. He could even see …
He kissed her again on the cheek. It was such an effort not to kiss her on the lips, not to slide his hands under the sheet to caress those breasts, not to move in beside her and pull her warm body to his. He was tempted – oh, how he was tempted. But she was asleep. Firmly, soundly, absolutely asleep.
There was a funny side to it, he supposed. But he couldn't see it. For minutes he stood there looking at her, looking at that face, showing the innocence of sleep. Then he sighed.
He walked to the other side of the bed and gently eased himself in next to her. She didn't move. He flicked off the lights, then lay there in the darkness, unable to sleep.
Next morning Jane vaguely heard knocking, then a voice whispered for her to go back to sleep. She did. And an hour after that, when she was gently shaken awake, there was the wonderful aroma of coffee close by. She opened her eyes and looked drowsily round the bedroom. ‘It's morning,’ she said.
‘Drink your coffee.’ Still half-asleep she took it, but after the first invigorating mouthful she became fully awake. She looked round again. David was dressed, his bags packed in the middle of the floor. He was smiling at her – rather gloomily, she thought.
‘In twenty minutes the bus will be outside t
o take us to the airport, so you've got fifteen minutes to pack. I thought you'd rather sleep than have breakfast.’
‘Yes, I was tired, but I feel better now and … David! What happened last night?’
‘What happened last night? Nothing. You came to bed, and when I came up you were asleep –very. So I waited a bit, then I got into bed. And after about three hours I went to sleep myself.’
‘But I … we … we were going to …’ She blinked at him and said demurely, ‘And I was so looking forward to it.’
In a strangled voice he said, ‘So was I.’
That was it. She couldn't stop herself laughing. And after a while he, too, managed to laugh – although rather reluctantly.
‘No time now,’ she said, opening her arms. ‘Come and kiss me and then I'll get up and pack. And remember the end of that film? Tomorrow is another day.’
‘At the moment I'm still sad about last night. Come on. You've got to pack.’ But he did kiss her.
There were more goodbyes. Jean-Claude insisted that they promise to come back. For a start, there were people in Vallere who would want to thank them.
‘We'll be back,’ she said. ‘I haven't been skiing yet.’
The trip to the airport on the bus was uneventful except for the crossing of the new bridge, freshly constructed by the French army. She eyed the apparently rickety structure and said, ‘I'm going to close my eyes.’ David didn't reply. He was asleep. In fact, he slept all the way, and after a while she dozed off herself.
He was restless in the aeroplane. She thought at first that he was still tired, but he said that wasn't it. ‘Was it last night, then? Or are you upset because you didn't go skiing?’
‘Not last night. You looked so sweet asleep that I just couldn't have woken you. And if I missed my skiing, you missed your chance to wear your new scarlet outfit.’
‘There'll be another chance, I hope. You're going to take me again, aren't you?’
‘Possibly. I certainly hope so.’
This answer upset her. ‘What d'you mean — possibly? Come on, you've got something to tell me.’
He sighed. ‘I have. I've got a confession to make. Jane, I deceived you. I didn't win a holiday. I knew you wouldn't accept me paying for you to come away with me so I made the story up.’
She was silent for a moment and then said, ‘I don't like being deceived. D'you want to tell me about any other he's you've told me in the past?’
‘There are none.’
‘Well, that's a relief. Unless you're lying about that, too. You see, David, now you can't be trusted. You did all this just to get me into bed? It was quite an expense. Are you sure I would have been worth it?’
‘Don't say that! You know I —’
‘It must have been terrible for you, having to pay for it at long last. Perhaps you're slipping, no longer able to rely on simple good looks. And you didn't get what you wanted. Perhaps I should pay for my share of the holiday.’
‘Jane!’ She had never seen him so angry. He reached across to her, and grabbed her arms so hard that they hurt. ‘I didn't like lying to you! I just wanted us away together where we could —’
‘Please, let go of me,’ she said coldly. When he had released her she went on, ‘So why tell me now?’
‘Because I wanted everything between us to be honest. I should have known what you were like, but the past six days have proved it to me. You're the most wonderful person I've ever met. I wanted some time alone with you so we could get to know each other.’
‘We have got to know each other. And I don't like what I've found out. I told you before — this is a question of trust. You lied to me, and I can't ever trust you again. What we had is over.’
There was a long silence. Then he said, ‘I deserve all that so I won't argue. But I desperately hope that it's not true. Believe it or not, Jane, I do love you.’
She stared out of the window and didn't reply.
After half an hour she sighed and reached for his hand. ‘We've got to stay friends,’ she said. ‘For a start, it's the only way I'll ever get to wear that scarlet suit. But don't think I've forgiven you. And take warning. One day I'll go behind your back.’
Chapter Ten
The stewardess smiled down at them both. ‘Dr Kershaw and Miss Cabot? I didn't realise we had famous people on board, or I'd have brought you some champagne. There's a message from the hospital. A Mr Moreton wants to have a word with you before the conference he's arranged.’
Jane looked up at the girl blankly. ‘Who's famous? And who's Mr Moreton? And what conference?’
Beside her David groaned softly. ‘I think I can guess,’ he said. Then he looked up at the stewardess and said, ‘We've changed our minds. Could we have a couple of brandies, please?’
When they were holding the drinks he said, ‘Vallere was in the news all over Europe. The British papers will have got hold of it arid our names will be known. A doctor and a nurse go for a holiday and spend the week giving medical help after an avalanche. It's a wonderful story.’
‘Oh, Lord,’ she said. ‘And I told people I was going to meet relatives in Yorkshire. I've been caught lying. I'll be in the same trouble as Megan.’
‘Not quite. You're a heroine. There'll be no awkward questions.’
‘Except what I was doing away with you. I don't want to meet anyone, David. Let's just creep out of the back. And who's this Moreton fellow, anyway?’
‘I've met him, he's a sound man. He's in charge of public relations for the hospital. He did quite a good job of sorting out that problem with Megan Taylor and Charles Grant-Liffley. I think we should do what he wants.’
‘But he wants us to talk to reporters,’ she said wildly. ‘Presumably have our photographs taken and so on.’
‘If we meet them and give them what they want, they won't bother us anymore. It should be a pleasant meeting, Jane. They don't want to harass you as they did Megan.’
‘I just don't like reporters. But I'll do as you say. And I don't like being called a heroine when all I did was act as a nurse.’
He hugged her comfortingly. ‘Drink your brandy,’ he said. ‘It'll make you feel better.’
Somehow Mr Moreton managed to meet them straight off the plane. Jane quite took to him. He was a short, round man with a perpetually hopeful expression. ‘Quite frankly, the hospital could do with a bit of good publicity,’ he said. ‘That Grant-Liffley business did us no good at all. It's not for me to tell you what to say, but if you could drop the name of the hospital into an answer, I'd be happy.’
‘I'm not very keen on saying anything,’ Jane said.
Mr Moreton looked as if he'd been slapped. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Honestly, it'll save so much trouble.’
‘All right,’ she said grumpily, ‘but David will have to do most of the talking. Now I'm just going into that Ladies to see what I look like.’
A few minutes later, they followed Mr Moreton into a room where two chairs had been placed on a little platform. There was a bewildering array of microphones on a table and, as soon as they entered, the popping of flash bulbs. There were even two television cameras.
I'm not going to enjoy this, she thought.
Mr Moreton offered them a lift home, but Jane had her car in the car park and in turn she offered to drive David home. There didn't seem much point in trying to keeping their affair a secret any more – they had just announced it to the world.
‘I thought that went very well,’ Mr Moreton said. ‘I'll report to the CEO. He'll be pleased. Will you drop in to see him tomorrow? I'll know he'll want to see you.’
‘It'll be a pleasure,’ she said shortly. She got into her car and reached over to open the passenger door for David. Somehow Mr Moreton had arranged to have the car brought to the front of the airport.
David was silent until they were on the M56. Then he said cautiously, ‘That wasn't too bad, was it? The reporters seemed quite a pleasant lot, and the questions they asked were fair.’
It was a wh
ile before she replied. ‘I know the situation is different now,’ she said. ‘But you referred to me as your fiancée. That means we're supposed to be engaged. Engaged to be married. You're supposed to ask me. I'm supposed to agree. It was a good thing my hands were hidden or they might have noticed I wasn't wearing a ring.’
‘Did what I said upset you?’
‘Yes, it did. It leaves me with an awful lot of explaining to do to friends and family. I'll have to get disengaged.’
‘Sorry. But I just thought that respectable theatre nurses and doctors didn't sleep together until they were at least engaged.’
‘It's not funny! I've got to live through this. You're the man, it's all right for you. I never wanted to be on the front page of half the newspapers in the country.’
‘Fair enough. But I'll bet you take a good picture.’
His voice became more serious. ‘But there's something you should remember — that both of us should remember. Without us more than a few people would have suffered far more than they did. Three or four would have died. You know that, don't you? And I'll bet there's one baby that's going to be called Jeanne because of you. Aren't you glad you did it? Aren't you glad you were able to do it?’
‘Yes,’ she said flatly, ‘I'm glad.’ After a pause she went on, ‘I wonder if I need a change from being a scrub nurse? Perhaps I need something new in my life. I could retrain and become one of these disaster nurses. It would be interesting work. And I'd go all over the world.’
Now it was his turn to speak flatly. ‘Yes. But remember you're an excellent theatre nurse.’
She drove to his flat and walked round to the back of the car as he took out his luggage. ‘We're still on holiday,’ he said, ‘till breakfast time on Monday. Why not stay and spend the last few hours of it with me?’
As she looked at him, Jane suddenly realised several things. Because of her conversation with Ann Deeds, she'd made assumptions about David that hadn't been true, that he'd been a casual love 'em and leave 'em type. She'd been the one to stress that what they'd had had been a casual affair, not David. She knew now that David was very well aware of the impact his looks had on women, and after his treatment at the hands of Diane he'd been right to be wary.
The Time is Now Page 15
