Hospital Heartbreaker

by Oliver, Marina

  'I'm not engaged to Rowena, or anyone else,' he said carefully. 'Is that another reason why you've avoided me?'

  As she nodded again he suddenly grinned. 'Yes, I can see these rumours are dangerous. It's hardly a question a girl can ask her date. Are you promised to someone else, sir? Because if you are I prefer not to have anything to do with you,' he mimicked in a falsetto voice.

  'But she was wearing a ring,' Fleur pointed out defensively.

  'And now she isn't. She thinks she's doing the right thing. But I'm not interested in Rowena. What of us? Can you believe that I didn't start those rumours about you?'

  Slowly she nodded.

  'Good. Sweetheart, there are all sorts of ways people could get hold of the story, and I suspect someone is deliberately trying to make things unpleasant. But it can't be any more than that, and no doubt all due to jealousy. A lot of girls would like to be as beautiful as you, my love.'

  *

  Soon Fleur decided that she did not in the least care about how or why the rumours had started. The only thing that mattered was being in Russell's arms, his lips on hers. They spoke little, content just to be close. At eleven o'clock Russell put her gently away from him and rose to his feet.

  'Time for me to go, darling. You have to be up early. What time do you finish tomorrow?'

  'I have a free afternoon.'

  'I can't get away until six. I'll call for you here about seven. I'll see if I can get theatre tickets, but it's close to Christmas. Are you going to the Christmas Ball?'

  'No,' Fleur replied. Steve had asked her but she had refused. She didn't want them to appear closer than they actually were. No such consideration entered her head when Russell invited her.

  When he had gone she began to wonder if she had dreamed it all. But a subtle fragrance remained of Russell's aftershave, there were two used dinner plates in the kitchen, and he had left a card with his private address and telephone number.

  'You can always leave a message on my machine if I'm out,' he had said. 'And I can phone in and record a message, so that if I'm ever prevented from contacting you or don't turn up when you expect me, I can let you know what's happening.'

  She went to bed blissfully happy, slipping the card under her pillow. She did not analyse her emotions, but suddenly the world was the marvellous, wonderful, excitingly satisfying place she had hoped to find.

  At Chad's she tackled all the morning tasks with renewed energy, getting the patients settled for the day, dealing with drugs and dressings, making routine observations and preparing one new patient for theatre, and generally looking so unusually happy Sister Reynolds commented on it.

  'I'm so thankful to see you back to normal, Nurse Tremaine,' she said when they were in the office together. 'I've been afraid you were sickening for something.'

  'I did feel low, probably a mild dose of flu,' Fleur said, but she coloured and could not prevent the slight smile from hovering on her lips, or disguise the brightness of her eyes.

  'I rather think you have caught something,' Sister said quietly. 'I only hope he's good to you and doesn't let you down,' she added as Fleur blushed vividly.

  *

  When Fleur finished her duty she hurried straight into the West End to join the last minute Christmas shoppers. She had no ball dress remotely special enough for Russell Delaney, and she also needed to buy him a Christmas present.

  The dress was easy. Fleur no sooner set eyes on it than she knew she must have it. Fortunately it was her size and just within her maximum price. Guiltily she suspected that even if it had been far more than the total amount of her savings she would have been utterly reckless and still bought it.

  In a soft jade green shade, the closely fitting bodice, held up by tiny shoulder straps, rose out of layers of floating net. The skirt draperies fell in points to ankle length. She had silver sandals and evening bag, and a Victorian jade pendant which had belonged to her grandmother, which would go perfectly with it.

  Anne had a dramatic black velvet cloak, and Fleur knew she would be only too pleased to lend it to her.

  She then looked for a present for Russell. This was far more difficult. If she had known him for longer she would have had some idea of his tastes, and she must not buy anything too vulgarly expensive or intimate.

  She looked at and rejected wallets, leather gloves, books, and sweaters, presents she would have bought for her father. For Russell it had to be special. She was almost in despair when, passing the window of an antiquarian bookseller, she noticed some old picture maps in the back. The one which caught her eye was of the Welsh border country, with a multitude of castles drawn in, and tiny pictures of battles and sieges.

  She recalled Russell's talk of his childhood, and his fantasies built around these very castles. If she had enough money it would make the perfect present. Hesitantly she asked the price, and was coldly informed by a rather superior angular woman that it was just a print. Which was fortunate, she thought in amusement as she bore her trophy homewards, carefully rolled up and protected by a cardboard cylinder, for she had only just been able to afford it. Goodness knows what originals cost.

  She had spent so long shopping it was half past six when she got home. She took a rapid shower, and was slipping a sleek black dress over her head when Anne came in.

  'Hi, there,' Anne called, and a moment later she came into Fleur's room. 'Oh, I hadn't realised you were going out.'

  'You weren't up this morning,' Fleur said. 'Have a good time last night?'

  'So – so. It wasn't very lively. I think everyone's tired so near Christmas. I shall be glad to get home.'

  'Oh, that reminds me, can I borrow your velvet cloak?'

  'Sure. Have you decided to go to the ball with Steve?'

  'No,' Fleur said slowly, blushing.

  Anne looked sharply at her. 'Fleur, what is it?'

  Fleur gulped. This was far more difficult than she had anticipated, though why it should be she could not think.

  'I'm going with Russell,' she said in a small voice. 'Anne, he'll be here in a few minutes! I'll explain later.'

  'I can't wait,' Anne said slowly.

  'Please, if he comes before I'm ready, give him a drink,' she asked, beginning to brush her hair until it gleamed.

  *

  At that moment the doorbell pealed and Anne, with a thoughtful look at Fleur, went to answer it.

  It was Russell, and when Fleur entered the sitting room she found him holding a glass of wine and listening to Anne's eager chatter. She came out of her bemused state for long enough to smile at the way he had so instantly charmed her friend away from her inclination to be censorious, then felt her heart somersault as he rose swiftly to his feet, put down his glass, and crossed the room to meet her, his hands descending on her shoulders and his lips lightly caressing hers.

  'You're lovely, and punctual, my darling,' he laughed.

  Fleur smiled, and then her smile deepened impishly at Anne's startled look. She was used to men like Steve and David who were far more restrained, and took time to reach the stage of kissing in public. No doubt Anne was thinking of Russell's reputation, wondering if it was this technique which had won it for him.

  For a moment Fleur's smile wavered as she thought of those many other girls, then she shrugged. How could anyone feel so incomplete without him and so naturally right together, if her love was not returned? He could not behave as he did unless he loved her.

  'We must go, I've tickets for the National. I hope you have a good holiday,' he said to Anne, who murmured some inaudible response as they went.

  Fleur could not remember afterwards what the play was, only that she sat in a glow of contentment, seeing and hearing what happened on stage, but not following a single thread of the plot. During the interval they listened to carol singers in the foyer, and Russell introduced Fleur to some friends who looked at her with interest. They were not connected with Chad's or medicine, but she did not catch their names or remember the conversation.

  Af
terwards Russell drove to a small restaurant in Covent Garden and at midnight they arrived back at the flat.

  'I won't come in, it's too late,' he whispered as he pulled her to him and kissed her lingeringly. 'I'm on duty tomorrow night, but I'll pick you up at eight the next day and we'll have dinner before the ball. Sleep well, my love.'

  Fleur let herself in, dazed with happiness, and found Anne in a shabby old dressing gown, asleep in a chair by the fire.

  She woke and stretched when Fleur came in, and looked quickly past her into the hall.

  'It's OK, I'm alone,' Fleur reassured her. 'Were you playing watchdog?'

  'Do I need to?' Anne demanded. 'Fleur, for pity's sake, I'm eaten up with curiosity! Tell me all!'

  'He's not engaged to Rowena!' Fleur said happily. 'Anne, don't you think he's fabulous?'

  *

  About to utter words of warning, Anne saw the glow of joy in Fleur's face, and bit them back. She feared Russell would treat Fleur as one more conquest, and drop her flat when he had tired of her. That would be the time to offer comfort. Let her enjoy at least the illusion of love in the meantime.

  'Tell me,' she invited again. 'Do you want some chocolate? Come into the kitchen while I make some.'

  Fleur told her briefly about the previous day, and Anne hid her disquiet. She was leaving for her home in the morning, and worried Fleur would be alone in the flat. Then she told herself not to be a fool. Fleur could fend for herself, and was old enough to know what she was doing if she allowed this affair to proceed as fast as it looked like doing. Besides, Fleur was so deeply enchanted she would not heed any warnings.

  It was the fear Fleur could be on her own when the inevitable crash came that concerned Anne, then she shrugged. Even Russell Delaney was unlikely to tire of her in a week, and then Fleur was going home for the New Year. Afterwards Anne would also be back, to help pick up the pieces when the inevitable break happened.

  'We must go to bed,' she said suddenly. 'Wake me up before you go out, I've so much to do before I catch the train.'

  They parted early the next morning with mutual good wishes and exchange of wrapped parcels.

  'Not to be opened before Christmas Day, remember,' Fleur said with a laugh.

  Anne grinned. 'I learned that lesson when I was ten. I found all the presents one day when my parents were out and my sister glued to the television. They hadn't been wrapped and I peeped into all of them, and was so disappointed when there were no surprises on Christmas Day.'

  'Give my love to your parents,' Fleur said. 'Heavens, is that the time? You'll be late. Take care.'

  *

  Fleur drifted through the day on a cloud. She kept her eyes demurely lowered when Russell came round the ward, but he treated her exactly as he did all the nurses, not betraying by the flicker of an eyelid that they had a life outside the hospital. For a moment she was taken aback, and then smiled to herself. He was obviously taking great care not to start any more rumours. Yet by the following night, when they had been at the hospital ball together, the grapevine would once more be busy.

  By the greatest good fortune she had the next two days off, to prepare in a leisurely manner for the ball and recover from it the day after. She had her hair shaped, then soaked in a steaming bath to which she added a generous amount of lemon-scented bath gel, before doing her nails. She was ready, tense with nerves, a full quarter of an hour before Russell was due.

  He was exactly on time and Fleur quivered with emotion when she opened the door. He was so superb, so handsome and elegant in evening dress, and he loved her. She was certain of that, and the embrace he held her in for long minutes would have told her that he was as moved as she was by their meeting.

  'I could stay here with you in my arms all night,' he said huskily. 'But I want to display my utterly beautiful, gorgeous Fleur to everyone. Come, we'll have to go.'

  They dined at a small French restaurant, unimpressive from the outside, but providing perfectly cooked and well served food in an elegant setting. Russell was obviously well known, and Fleur suffered a spark of jealousy. How many other girls had he brought here? Then she told herself not to be foolish. He was over thirty and attractive. There must have been many girls in his life before her. She would be thoroughly miserable if she spent all her time thinking about them.

  When they reached the hotel where the ball was being held the dancing was in full swing. Fleur went to leave her cloak, then they went up to the ballroom and he immediately swung her onto the floor, holding her closely and leading her expertly through the throng of other dancers.

  Fleur loved dancing, and gave herself up to the sheer bliss of a skilful partner. Too often her escorts considered that if they held her closely without treading on her toes they had performed creditably.

  She was so absorbed it was not until the music stopped and Russell reluctantly removed his arm from around her waist that she realised how many people were looking at her. They wore a variety of expressions, surprise, envy, amusement, and in some faces rather unpleasant speculation.

  Russell was sublimely indifferent. He was flatteringly attentive, and although he ensured they mingled with others, and introduced Fleur to many of the senior staff, who until now had been only names, or occasionally faces to her, his tender and protective attitude demonstrated to everyone he was most content when he was dancing with or talking alone to Fleur.

  *

  Just one incident marred an otherwise perfect evening. At midnight, when some of the older consultants were beginning to drift away, Rowena Kingsley appeared with a strange man.

  She was dressed in black, a tight, daringly low dress slit to the thigh. She was not incapably drunk, but it was obvious both she and her companion had been drinking steadily. Rowena stared about her as she entered the ballroom, saw Russell and Fleur and said something to her companion.

  Then she began to move purposefully in their direction. The man caught her arm and seemed to be arguing with her, then as she tried to pull away jerked her roughly round and almost dragged her across the room.

  Fleur had seen all of this, as she had been facing the door. Russell became aware of it when the obvious interest of Fleur and others caused him to swing round in time to see the struggle.

  Fleur heard him mutter to himself as he half rose to his feet, his face grim, and then he paused.

  'She'll go to the devil in her own way, I suppose,' he said with a shrug, sitting down again. 'Sorry, darling.'

  'Who is he?' Fleur asked, suddenly cold with apprehension. 'Is he a doctor? I haven't seen him before,' she went on, anxious not to drop into a betraying silence.

  'He left a few months back, went to a private clinic. Although he doesn't look capable of it now, he's a top plastic surgeon. But he's an unscrupulous hound with women,' he added bitterly. 'I feel I ought to drag her away by force, but I'd probably do harm by interfering. Let's dance again.'

  It was a slow, dreamy waltz, and he held her close, his cheek resting on her head. Fleur felt too petrified to think clearly, for his reaction to Rowena had undermined all her own delight in what she had assumed were Russell's feelings for her. Now she was much less certain of him or his motives for paying her such lavish attention.

  With a determined effort she pushed the nagging worries from her conscious thoughts. Russell's attentions finally drove away all memory of Rowena until, at an early hour in the morning, he left her at the door of the flat.

  'I daren't come in,' were his parting words as he held her closely and kissed her with a greater degree of passion than he had displayed before. 'If I did you'd never get me out again. How could I have existed without you? It wasn't a complete life, that I know. Goodnight, my beloved.'

  *

  Chapter 9

  Fleur slept dreamlessly for a few hours, then a noise in the street woke her and she lay in bed wondering why she felt a sense of impending gloom when she ought to be in seventh heaven.

  She shivered, and tried to blot out the unformed but overwhelming f
ear in her mind. It was impossible to sink back into oblivion, despite her short sleep, so she got up, pulled on some old clothes, made coffee and toast, and sat huddled in front of the sitting room fire.

  She felt bitterly cold, despite a thick sweater on top of a long sleeved Viyella shirt. Outside the wintry sun was shining, but the bare branches of the lime trees hung motionless. The cold was within her, and she finally faced the question why.

  Carefully, she went over all her conversations with Russell, trying to isolate what frightened her. She realised with a sick feeling of despair that although he had said plainly he was not engaged to Rowena, he had not said he had never been engaged to her. And his instinctive reaction the previous night showed clearly she still meant a great deal to him. Did he want her back, or was he angry to see her with a man he disliked? Was he jealous?

  With that thought came the devastating suspicion he might be using her to make Rowena jealous. Fleur was not vain, and Rowena was exceptionally beautiful.

  'No one could really prefer me to her,' she whispered.

  And his endearments? They were extravagant. Was it his habit with women, or was such caressing language a deliberate ploy? He had never actually committed himself to an outright declaration of love although he called her his love and his darling and similar intimate and tender names.

  He desired her, but men often desired women without being in love with them. There had been plenty of warnings in his reputation for sudden romances, swiftly undertaken and as abruptly ended. Why should she consider herself different from the many other girls who had come into his orbit?

  Rowena was different. She now felt sure he had been engaged to her. Suddenly she realised he had never denied starting the rumours about her, or satisfactorily explained how else they could have started.

  She forced herself to review the few occasions when she had seen them together after the engagement was broken, for now she was convinced that was the truth. Rowena had always looked furious, and Russell grim. Quite natural in the circumstances. Perhaps from the reports of Rowena's bad temper she was regretting it and only pride stopped her from trying to make up the quarrel, while he was taking his own unscrupulous measures to resolve it.