The Island Bride

by Jane Corrie

  As Cara prepared herself for bed that night, she wondered if she were really as weak-minded as it appeared. Matron had walked all over her during her last interview at the hospital, and now Pierre Morelon had taken over the reins.

  Admittedly there were side issues that slightly complicated things from Cara's point of view, and made it impossible for her to make a stand of any sort. For the first time since her return she almost regretted coming back to Totorua.

  Of all the applicants Pierre could have chosen to occupy the villa she was the least suited, she told herself grimly as she climbed into bed and bunched the pillows up under her head. Someone, she thought darkly, must be having a good laugh somewhere at her expense, particularly if there was a hereafter. It wasn't as if she had had a chance to put things right, or at least explain her peculiar position.

  As for the reason why Pierre did not want the past resurrected, the answer was, of course, Paula. So he was planning to marry her, at least that had been clarified even if he hadn't actually said so. It was also obvious that they planned to stay on the island, and Pierre was making sure that Matron would not stir up trouble for him in the future.

  Cara sighed and reached out a hand to switch off the bedside light, then lay down and tried to lose

  herself in the arms of Morpheus, but either Morpheus had deserted his post, or her brain refused to comply with his soothing remedy of sleep, for she lay wide-eyed and alert as her mind went on turning over the events of the evening.

  It was all very well, she thought crossly, for him to assure her that she had only to ask for his help and all her troubles would be resolved. What did he know of hospital life? It was a world within a world, and if one compared it to a ship, then Julia as Matron was captain of that ship. How she was expected to run to him for help in whatever vexing situation befell her, she couldn't imagine. They might only be slight irritations, but in the end such irritations could become unbearable—more like a war of nerves—a tactic that Julia would be quite adept at, Cara was sure.

  His suggestion that she should claim previous association with him was a non-starter too, as she had already outlined her position on this with Julia. She saw no point in telling Pierre this, it was too late now to do anything about it.

  She sighed once again and turned over and thumped her pillows hard as if it were their fault that she couldn't get off to sleep. The irony of it all, she thought grimly, was that none of these things would matter if it hadn't been for one certain event in the past. It was not as if she hadn't tried to tell Pierre about it, but whenever she made the attempt she was forestalled, almost as if certain forces were ranged against her, binding her tongue and effectively preventing any such communication

  If there were such a thing as a hoodoo, then Cara might as well give in whatever the outcome, she

  was too firmly enmeshed in the net that had been so insidiously flung over her, and like the fish caught by the tide, had to give up the struggle and await the inevitable. On this thought she fell asleep, lulled by the sound of waves breaking on the reef, a sound that was only in her mind, yet could be heard as plainly as if she were standing on the sea shore.

  The following week was an exhausting one for her, mainly because she expected another summons from Matron, and was on constant lookout for trouble in any direction. The fact that no such summons was received only heightened the tension Cara felt gathering around her. There were the small odd pinpricks, that could have been put down to normal happenings such as having her most competent nurse transferred to Medical, and having to accept a replacement who looked and acted more like a wardress in an open prison than a nursing Sister.

  It came as no surprise to find that Sister Dufour, the name of the hard-faced and glint-eyed replacement, was a particular friend of Julia Besson's and as such her arrival coincided with a complete change of atmosphere in Physiotherapy. No longer did the girls chat amicably together but they were very careful in what they said, and the conversation was confined to medical jargon.

  As the woman held the rank of Sister it made things doubly hard for Cara, for it was obvious from the very first day she arrived to take up her new duties that Armand was not going to submit to her authority. His expressive look at Cara that plainly said, 'I told you so', and the way his normally pleas-

  ant face hardened when he glanced towards Sister Dufour, spelt trouble with a capital T.

  If Sister Dufour spoke English, she declined to use it, but by now Cara had managed to polish up her knowledge of French, and blessed the fact that she had had an extremely good grounding by her former tutor during her earlier years on the island. Hearing the language day by day had reawakened the dormant teachings and she was now able to understand most of what was said.

  Thus she was able to hastily intervene when the first altercation between Sister Dufour and Armand took place. Cara was not able to witness the start of the quarrel, or what had caused it, since she had slipped into her office a few minutes earlier to collect a file on one of the patients, but she was in time to hear Sister Dufour threaten to have Armand removed from Physiotherapy and returned to what should have been his work, merely pottering, adding with an acid rider that she couldn't think why he was being retained in that department.

  Cara jumped in on Armand's side. She might be able to understand French, but as yet she was not competent enough to express her feelings on the matter in that language. so she spoke in English.

  There was no doubt by the flash of temper in Sister Dufour's eyes that she perfectly understood what Cara was saying. and she pursed her thin lips tight when Cara said that Armand's services in that department were invaluable. Trying to soften the words that had sounded as furious as she felt, mainly through dislike of the woman, Cara added a light rider to the effect that she did hope Sister Dufour would settle down in the department. It

  was early days yet, she knew, but she was sure that given time, Sister would find Armand's assistance as valuable as the other nurses had found it.

  Unfortunately, Armand's expression did nothing to confirm Cara's hopes in this direction, if anything it seemed as if he would be quite content to receive his marching orders—at least it would put him out of a certain person's vicinity!

  Small pinpricks they might be, but what a world of difference they made to Cara's working day. Also, it had not escaped Cara's attention that Sister Dufour's presence had another purpose—apart from disrupting the normally happy atmosphere in Physiotherapy—and that was to watch points on all issues and report back to Matron; in other words, she was Matron's spy. How she was expected to run to Pierre for help in these circumstances was beyond Cara's comprehension. There would be nothing he could do about it, as she had thought at the time he had made the offer.

  Pierre, it appeared, was not the only one who could make his feelings plain without a word spoken, since Matron had undoubtedly chosen to use the same tactics on Cara. Although it was unpleasant, Cara preferred this method to another interview with her, particularly as she was in such a vulnerable position.

  No matter how one looked at it, it was not an ideal situation, but Cara was forced to make the best of it. All she could hope for was that in time things would settle down, and that eventually Matron would concede defeat. On this thought she gave a long drawn out sigh for try as she might, she could not see this happening. If it was only

  the villa Matron wanted, then there might have been a good chance of such a happening coming to pass, but there was Pierre—and Pierre loved Paula. Cara's frown cleared as a thought struck her; she had forgotten Paula—if only Paula would appear on the scene! She had to put in an appearance some time, surely? and the sooner the better from Cara's point of view. All she had to do, she told herself, was to carry on as normal and not give Sister Dufour any opportunity or cause for complaint against her, and who knew, she told herself cheerfully, she just might end up as Matron's best friend, particularly if she thought that Cara also had designs on Pierre !

  Cara's hopes that her un
comfortable position would shortly be alleviated were soon to be realised, but not quite in the manner she had envisaged. Had she been given the choice she would have chosen a less painful release from the situation. However, like everything else that had happened to her since her return to the island, she had to accept what fate had in store for her.

  It was a visit of Maaua's to Physiotherapy that began the turn of events that led to the culmination of all that Cara had feared would happen should a certain piece of information be divulged and reach the ears of the Matron. At the time of the visit, however, no such worry had impinged upon Cara's consciousness, and she gave a welcoming smile when she saw who her visitor was. On learning that Maaua had called to find out if it would be convenient for her to visit Cara that evening, Cara assured her that it was, adding in a pleased tone, `Come as early as you can, I'll fix a meal for us.'

  Sister Dufour, who had viewed Maaua's visit with avid curiosity, remarked afterwards to Cara that she thought the junior staff were a little too familiar for their own good, and hinted that Cara ought not to encourage them.

  Cara was too surprised to feel angry at her comments. 'I invited her to visit me,' she said calmly. and added swiftly on seeing the Sister's lips thin in disapproval, `Maaua's an old friend of mine, I used to play with her when I was younger.'

  As she watched the surprised expression this statement produced on the Sister's usually set features, she felt a spurt of gratification. If she hadn't known before that she used to live on Totorua, she knew now, Cara thought a little maliciously. but later chided herself for her uncharitable attitude towards the Sister, and wished she could find something likeable about her. Unfortunately there was not much to like about a person who set out to make trouble for those around her, and as charitable as Cara tried to be, she could not condone such patent mischief making.

  Maaua arrived shortly after six and Cara, who had prepared a Caribbean-style salad for them, added a few anchovies to the final dish as she chatted to her. There had not been much time for her to get in all the ingredients necessary for the spicy salad, there were no red peppers for instance, or olives, but she had managed to produce a passable concoction, even to the extent of garnishing the top of the salad with several dollops of a red jelly that she had made the previous evening and had intended to use as a sweet for her evening meal.

  As might be expected, the conversation centred

  around their work at the hospital. and Maaua was just as curious about Sister Dufour's presence in Physiotherapy as the Sister had been about her visit. 'What was she doing in your department?' she asked Cara.

  Cara's smile slowly faded on the change of subject, since they had been discussing more pleasant aspects of hospital life. `Oh, she's joined us.' she said casually, but her depression was echoed in her eyes.

  'Poor Cara!' sympathised Maaua. 'She's not the most popular Sister in the hospital. It's odd, though,' she mused, 'she's been with Medical for years,' then she gave a light shrug. 'Perhaps she wanted a change.' she suggested. but did not sound too convinced of this.

  'Perhaps Matron wanted her to change.' Cara commented dryly. 'I understand they're friends.'

  Maaua looked up from her absorption with her food, and her finely arched brows rose a fraction higher as she asked, 'You haven't upset Matron, have you. Cara?'

  Cara shook her head, and handed Maaua the basket of bread. 'Of course not!' she answered, and before she had thought of where her next question would eventually lead them, she asked, 'How well does Matron know Pierre Morelon?'

  Maaua selected a piece of bread and put the basket down on the table before answering, and Cara knew she was seeking the reason as to why such a question should have been put to her. In the end she gave it up, and with another light shrug of her slim shoulders she replied, 'Well, I suppose they used to see something of each other when they were young. Tennis clubs and things like that.'

  She gave Cara considering look. 'I only know what I've been told, you know. I shouldn't have thought they were friends—well, not as you and I are friends, I mean, just acquaintances, I would say. I expect they meet at all the parties and things that are going on. Most of the doctors receive an invitation for them, and she would make sure she accompanied one of them, particularly if it was one of Pierre Morelon's parties. Everyone knows she's got a thing about him.'

  There was a few seconds' silence while the girls tucked into their meal, then Maaua, who was still trying to work out Cara's interest in Matron's love life, suddenly felt she had the answer. 'Of course,' she murmured brightly, 'you wouldn't know much of the past history, would you? I wouldn't have known either, except that I came to work at the hospital, and you know how gossip can fly around there. Matron's only been at the hospital a year, you know, she trained in France, and came back here as Matron. I wouldn't say it was a popular choice—oh, she's qualified all right, but she has a way of putting people's backs up, but it doesn't seem to worry her; if it did, she would do something about it and try to be a bit more understanding. She has a way of looking at you and making you feel small.'

  Cara nodded her agreement with this observation. She knew exactly what Maaua meant, and it was some comfort to know that she was not alone in receiving such treatment. 'She didn't take too kindly to my living here,' she said dryly, 'apparently she was after the place, too,'

  Maaua's eyes opened wide at this. 'So she's after your blood!' she exclaimed.

  Cara's eyes went to the bright salad bowl in the centre of the table before she answered slowly, `To be honest, I'm not really sure about that. All I know is she did try to get Pierre Morelon to change his mind about leasing me the villa, and to lease it to her.'

  `But she didn't succeed,' interjected Maaua softly. `Well, she wouldn't, would she? It was her mother who used to live here—rent free, if you know what I mean, and he wouldn't want the past raked up again. His mother went back to France. Pierre Morelon used to spend his holidays here with his father, and the rest of the time with his mother.'

  As Cara recalled the look of sorrow Pierre had given when speaking of his father, she thought that he must have had a sad childhood, since it was obvious that he had been fond of both his parents. `No,' she agreed emphatically, answering Maaua's first observations, 'he wouldn't be likely to want the past resurrected. But it puts me right in the middle, doesn't it?'

  `Right in the middle,' agreed Maaua, and gave Cara an impish grin, but then sobered as she reviewed the situation. 'It's rumoured that she hoped to do better than her mother, where the son was concerned, I mean,' she observed thoughtfully. 'Jean Paul Morelon never married her mother, and he could have done, you know. He was a widower for several years before he died, but there was some row, I think, and he lost interest.' She turned a sympathetic eye on Cara. 'So she's taking it out on you.'

  `It does appear so,' Cara said quietly, 'and it didn't help matters when Pierre Morelon invited me to a cocktail party the other evening and insisted on keeping me company,' she added gloomily.

  Maaua digested this news for a moment or so before giving Cara another mischievous smile. 'So my granddaddy was right after all, wasn't he?' she teased Cara.

  Cara laid down her knife and fork with a dull thud on to the table and gave her an exasperated look. 'I thought we'd agreed not to mention that,' she answered crossly. 'And considering Pierre is practically engaged to a girl named Paula, I'm afraid Tu-Tu was way off the mark.'

  'Does Matron know about this Paula?' asked Maaua curiously.

  Cara shook her head. 'I don't think so—no, I'm sure she doesn't. I only wish she did, it might take a little of the pressure off me. I'm sure she thinks I've got my eye on her Pierre, and I haven't,' she said, firmly meeting the twinkle -in Maaua's eyes. 'I'll admit he's nice,' she conceded grandly, 'but I'm not poaching on anybody else's preserves, intentionally or unintentionally, and.' she added dryly, 'it's not as if he were interested in me, not in that way anyway, so you can take that smug look off your face,' she advised the now chuckling Maaua.

/>   When Maaua was brought back to sobriety, she agreed with Cara that the appearance of the woman Pierre Morelon was in love with would certainly ease things for Cara, and in the meantime she advised Cara to watch her step and not give Matron any cause for complaint against her.

  The following week the storm Cara had sensed was gathering around her broke out with a ferocity

  that left her completely defenceless on all counts, for even her staunch ally Pierre Morelon joined the forces ranged against her.

  It began with another invitation from Pierre, to yet another cocktail party, and at first Cara was tempted to plead another engagement, but as she knew so few people on the island, apart from the staff at the hospital, she was afraid he might take her refusal as a snub of some kind, and she had no wish to offend him.

  The reason for the invite, she was sure, was that he wished to satisfy himself that all was well her end, and that was going to be the tricky part. To just report the bare facts as they stood would not mean a thing to him. Personnel were often moved around in a hospital and the fact that the replacement sent to her department was a special friend of Matron's would have no significance for him.

  On the other hand, to say that all was well would be a downright lie, and all Cara could hope was that no such query was put to her, since there was nothing he could do about it, even if he understood the position she was in. All these thoughts went through her mind as she got ready for the party, and as she fastened the wide velvet belt of her wine-coloured dress around her slim waist, she fervently wished she might get the opportunity of a word with Julia Besson at some time during the evening.

  It all depended, she told herself pessimistically as she swept her blue-black hair into a french pleat, on whether Pierre gave a repeat performance of the last showing, or whether he left her room to manoeuvre. Somehow she had to convey the news of Paula's existence to her. It would only need a

  few simple words if Julia should make any oblique reference to Cara's friendship-with Pierre.