Tender Nurse

by Hilda Nickson

  “Martin!” she protested laughingly. “I had no idea you were like that.”

  He grinned boyishly, then said soberly: “I love you.”

  It was a warm, mellow evening with scarcely a leaf stirring. They sped along country lanes, passing through tiny villages, where the women-folk sat at open doorways enjoying the peace and cool of evening, and the men smoked a pipe and chatted with his neighbor or just ruminated.

  Leaving the villages behind, the road began to twist and wind upwards, until at last a hill, steep and straight, lay before them. Quietly Martin slipped into second gear and the car climbed steadily upwards. With a sudden pang, Andrea wondered how Godfrey’s old car would have made the climb. Poor, dear Godfrey, if only he, too, would meet someone he could love and who would love him in return.

  Just as she thought Martin would surely have to change gear again, the road turned sharply and they were at the top. Martin drew on to a grass verge and stopped the car.

  “Would you like to take a walk to the site of the old beacon and see the view? It will be dark by the time we’ve had our meal.”

  She nodded, looking around. “Oh yes, it looks lovely.” They got out and Martin led the way through a thicket where they crossed a wide sweep of common high up on the hill top.

  “This, darling,” Martin said as they reached a tall, stone tower, “is the site of the old mediaeval beacon. From a look out on the coast, a message was sent by means of another fire whenever an invasion, such as the coming of the Spanish Armada threatened our island. As this fire here sprang into life, another one further inland would be lighted until finally, the message reached London.”

  “How wonderful — and romantic.”

  Martin smiled. “In a way, yes. Look,” he said, pointing down into the valley. “You can just see the sea from here.”

  He stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder while he pointed with the other.

  “Yes, I see, Martin — and what a glorious view,” she whispered, acutely conscious of his nearness.

  His hand tightened on her shoulder and for a short while they stood there in silence. Though each truly appreciated the beauty of the valley laid out before them, they were, for the moment, more enthralled with each other than with nature. His arm slid around her shoulders and together they walked back to the car.

  “The Hanging Gate is only just round the next bend,” he said in a low voice. “We’ll go and have supper — you must be getting hungry by now — then we’ll have the rest of the evening to talk over the future — yours and mine, darling.”

  It was a simple meal and the landlord served them. Ham with greenhouse tomatoes and pickles, followed by cheese and fruit.

  “It’s not quite the setting for champagne, sweetheart/’ Martin said. “But there will be another time.”

  They drank refreshing Lager with their meal and afterwards had strong delicious coffee.

  “I used not to like coffee,” Andrea said, “but this is wonderful.”

  Martin smiled. “Yes. So many people just don’t know how to make it. There’s nothing like a strong, fresh brew with plenty of sugar and cream.” He grew silent as they sipped their coffee. Then presently he said: “Andrea— I hope you’ve forgiven me for behaving so abominably toward you in theatre.”

  She gave him a slight smile. “You didn’t really think all that badly of me, did you?”

  “Think badly of you? Good heavens, darling, no. I didn’t realize I loved you then, of course, but — well, it’s not very easy to explain. Sister Fisher treated you so disgracefully — I had to do something to draw her attention away from you. I couldn’t see how else to do it. The way she treats her nurses is really out of my province, so that I couldn’t very well speak to her about it without being guilty of interference. George hinted that it was because of my friendship with you that she was treating you so wretchedly. I hated doing it and hoped you would understand.”

  She smiled ruefully. “Well, it worked anyhow, didn’t it? She certainly became different. But, oh, how utterly miserable I was. I would rather have felt her biting tongue than know your disapproval. I never guessed that you were doing it for my sake.”

  “If I’d reailzed it would hurt you so much, I wouldn’t have done it. But I couldn’t very well tell you. And of course, that’s the only reason I took her to the theatre.”

  “Oh, Martin.”

  He looked at her. “Did you mind?”

  “I was miserable.”

  “I was as jealous as hell seeing you with —Godfrey.”

  Her face clouded and he gave her a quick glance. “Let’s go and sit in the car and talk a while,” he said. “It’s not quite dark yet. Then we can go back to the hospital just whenever you like. Not too early though, please, darling.”

  They sat in the car and watched the sun slowly dip below the horizon and the stars appear one by one. The world was at peace and the air held a strange magical quality.

  Martin put his arm around her and drew her gently to him, kissing softly the dark hair at her temples. “Andrea, my darling,” he said softly. “Tell me again — do you love me truly?”

  She turned her face to his. “Absolutely and always.”

  His arm tightened about her. “Will you marry me, Andrea?”

  “Martin — Oh Martin,” she breathed. “Of course I will.”

  “Andrea——”

  He caught her to him and kissed her soft lips, long and ardently, and in that kiss she learned at last the difference between ‘fondness’ and love. She returned his kiss unreservedly. He brushed his lips across the soft smoothness of her cheek.

  “I love you, I love you——”

  “Oh, Martin, I never knew that love could be like this.” He smoothed her hair. “Darling, you were not exactly engaged to Godfrey, I know. Will you be able to tell him about us without hurting yourself too much?”

  “It — it won’t be easy, Martin, but I must. I have promised to see him the day after tomorrow — my day off. I will tell him then. It will hurt him at first, I suppose, but perhaps when I’m out of the picture, he will meet someone else.”

  “Darling, he is sure to. I have always found it difficult to understand how a person’s love can endure when it is not reciprocated.”

  They were both thoughtful for a time, then Martin said: “Will you be willing to curtail your training, Andrea? I love you too much to be able to wait three years or so to marry you.”

  “Martin — I can do both surely? Nurses do, nowadays, don’t they ?”

  “Quite often yes. But of course, there’s always the chance of a baby coming along,” he reminded her gently.

  She glanced at him shyly. “Well, in that case, the question would settle itself. But, Martin — if we become engaged——”

  “We are engaged — since you have just consented to marry me,” he interrupted.

  She smiled. “What I was going to say was, won’t our engagement — if it becomes known — cause too much talk in the hospital? I don’t want to leave, not for a while.

  I really would like to carry on for a little while, at least. I’m finding things terribly interesting, and any knowledge of your job I can gain will make me all the more fit to be your wife.”

  He stroked her dark hair lovingly. “You shall do just whatever you wish, sweetheart, though you’re more than just right as you are for my wife.”

  She smiled. “Seriously though, I think it would be better if we kept our love secret for a while. Matron would certainly disapprove of her senior surgeon being gossiped about.”

  “It may create a precedent to have a student nurse married to one of the hospital surgeons,” Martin replied, “but there’s no law against it.”

  He gathered her to him, kissing her lips, her hair, her eyes. “Oh, my darling, I think I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you, bending over your patient in defiance of etiquette.”

  A great happiness surged through her very being.

  Andrea and Virginia stretched out lazily
on a sand dune enjoying the afternoon sun. After a late breakfast at the hospital, they had spent the morning shop-window gazing in Cliftonville. During lunch, Andrea had striven to find an opening in which to tell Virginia about Martin and herself and of her intention to break the news to Godfrey that evening. Somehow, Virginia always seemed to feel so acutely for Godfrey, and Andrea had no desire to feel any more wretched about things than she did already. She shrank from the ordeal of telling Godfrey that she could never marry him but it was no use funking it. Before Martin and she had parted the other evening, Martin had agreed to Virginia being told of their news. George, he said, already knew. Later, when Andrea went to meet Godfrey, Virginia was meeting George, and so Andrea wanted her to hear the news from herself. She and Godfrey were spending the evening at the house of some friends. It was on the way home from there that Andrea planned to tell Godfrey.

  The tide was at its lowest ebb. The two girls watched the sun sparkling on the distant water like the jewels they had gazed at in the shop windows.

  “Andrea,” Virginia said suddenly. “What’s troubling you? You’ve been lapsing into queer little silences all morning. In fact, you seem to have had something on your mind for a day or two now.”

  Andrea’s heart gave a queer jump. “I’ve — got some news for you, and I’ve been trying to think of the best way of telling you.”

  Virginia raised herself on one elbow. “If it’s as difficult as all that, it can only be one thing — you and Martin.” Her voice was almost harsh.

  “You’ve guessed correctly, and you sound quite annoyed. I was afraid of the way you would react. That’s why I found it so difficult to tell you.”

  Virginia shrugged, and took up a handful of the fine, warm sand. “Why should I be annoyed? It’s your own affair!”

  “But you’re still angry, aren’t you? And after all, Gini, we are supposed to be friends. You could at least be pleased that I have a chance of happiness.

  “If you’re happy, I expect I am pleased.”

  “You’re thinking of Godfrey, I suppose.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “When did it happen — between you and Martin, I mean?”

  “After theatre, when we were called up in the night.”

  “What — at that hour in the morning? What happened — did he ask you to marry him or did he just make love to you?”

  Andrea sat upright. “Virginia — that’s a terribly cynical thing to say. What kind of an opinion have you of me — or of Martin ?”

  Virginia’s lips tightened. “I suppose I shall end by apologizing to you, but I must be frank. I just can’t see Martin being serious — he’s always seemed so — unapproachable, and to tell the truth, I feel that you have rather played with fire. I feel you’ve treated Godfrey altogether too lightly and that Martin should never have trespassed.”

  She broke off, feeling that she had said too much and that she was really being unjust toward Andrea and Martin and over-concerened about Godfrey.

  Andrea said quietly: “I’m sorry you feel like that. I think your vision is somewhat distorted. You’re not seeing things quite in perspective, but I’ll tell you how it happened. He walked over to the ‘Home’ with me. Then, more on impulse than anything else, I suppose, he took me in his arms and said he loved me. Oh, Virginia, it was wonderful. Then the other night, he took me out and asked me to marry him. I said ‘yes’ without hesitation, for I know now what love is.”

  Her arms under her head, she gazed up at the blue sky where the gulls wheeled overhead, their white wings flashing in the sunlight.

  Virginia glanced at her face and saw the look of complete happiness that had settled there like a benediction. She was happy, it was obvious. But what was Godfrey going to feel like?

  “I’m glad for your sake, Andrea,” she said at length. “I know you’ve loved him for some time and it’s a wonderful thing to be loved in return. But I could be happier still for you if it were not for Godfrey. How he is going to suffer!” She knew only too well, what it was like to love in vain.

  A frown puckered Andrea’s brow and she moved uneasily. “I know, I know, and I’ve worried myself sick about him. But these sort of things are beyond one’s control. I love Martin as I’ve never loved Godfrey.”

  “When are you going to tell him?” Virginia asked quietly.

  “Tonight.”

  There was silence between them for a while. Then Virginia asked: “What are you going to do about your training, and how are you going to prevent wagging tongues?”

  “Martin doesn’t seem very concerned about people talking. He thinks the excitement will die down quickly enough. But if Matron objected to my staying on after we were engaged — or married, then Martin would probably leave and go into private practise.”

  “You seem to have thought of everything.”

  Andrea looked at her. “You’re still not altogether reconciled to the idea are you, Virginia?” she said quietly.

  Suddenly the sun clouded over and it grew chilly. Virginia looked at her watch. “We’ll have to get moving if we’re to get some tea and freshen up.”

  Andrea gathered her things together in silence, her stomach contracting violently at the thought of meeting Godfrey.

  He was waiting as arranged at the Pier entrance. A light rain had begun to fall.

  “Hello, darling,” he said as she got into the car. “It will only be a shower, I think. I hope so, because my steering gear seems a bit defective. I’ve only noticed it since I’ve set out, but it will be all right if I’m careful. I must get it fixed though. I’ve a fellow coming to look at it tomorrow.” He searched her face as she settled beside him. “You look wonderful. Had a good time, you and Virginia?”

  “Yes, lovely?” She gave him a brief account of their doings as he drove along, adding, “Virginia has gone to meet George.”

  “She’s been going out with him for quite a time now, hasn’t she? Are they serious?”

  “Virginia never gives any indication. They seem to be just good friends.”

  “How long can a man and a woman remain good friends’?”

  Andrea gave him a surprised glance. “I wouldn’t know the answer to that, Godfrey.”

  What had prompted him to throw out such a question? He was not given to philosophising a great deal. She had no wish to pursue his line of thought, however. She felt that would be treading on dangerous ground, so she steered the conversation away from the hospital and its personnel.

  She was thankful that they were not going to spend the evening alone together. In the company of Chris and Harry Scott, introspection or speculation would be impossible. They were such a lively couple. She was mistaken, however, if she thought the evening with them would be an easy one. They had not seen her for some time, and consequently bombarded her with questions about hospital life. When they heard that she was working in the operating theatre, they were even more interested, and it was difficult to speak calmly or matter-of-factly about anything so closely connected with Martin, especially in Godfrey’s presence.

  At last the time came for the journey back to the hospital. Soon, she must tell him that he must not wait for her at all; that she could never marry him and could not continue to see him. She would like to spare him knowing about Martin, but there would be no help for it — he would naturally want an explanation. Silently rehearsing how to begin, yet shrinking from the task, Andrea scarcely noticed that it was raining again. They were passing through Burton Woods when Godfrey broke the silence.

  “You’re very quiet, darling. What are you thinking about so deeply?”

  She colored. “I — as a matter of fact,” she blurted out, “I was thinking about you, Godfrey.”

  He grinned delightedly. “Well now, that’s something. Tell me more.”

  She panicked. Not now, she thought. I mustn’t tell him now. Not until the last minute. A long discussion would be too painful.

  “Ah, come on now,” he wheedled as
though reading her thoughts. “Tell me what you were thinking about.” The car skidded slightly and Godfrey brought the wheel sharply round, decreasing his speed. “Sorry about that, darling,” he said. “The road is terribly slippery.”

  “Yes.” She was almost thankful for the diversion, uncomfortable though it was. “We’d better not talk any more whilst you’re driving. I’ll tell you later what I was thinking.”

  “You’ve got me guessing now. I think I’ll pull up round the next bend. As a matter of fact, there is something I want to ask you.”

  He steered carefully round the bend. Vaguely, Andrea wondered what it was he wanted to ask her.

  Then suddenly Godfrey gave an exclamation. “The steering’s gone!”

  Andrea was aware that the car was sliding sideways, while Godfrey wrenched at the steering wheel. In the beams of the headlights, she saw a confused blur of hedgerow merge into the brick wall of Burton Manor gateway.

  She knew a moment of sheer panic before something crashed on her head. Instinctively, she put up her arm but with the blow came darkness and oblivion.

  Chapter Twelve

  “ANY SIGN of consciousness yet, Nurse Wainwright?” In the small side-ward of one of his medical wards, George stood at the bedside where Andrea lay, her dark hair spread out on the pillow, framing her pale face and seeming to emphasize its whiteness.

  “No, Doctor, I don’t think so. She did open her eyes once, but she just stared straight at me, then closed them again.”

  Rita looked at him curiously as he gazed down at the figure in the bed. He seemed extraordinarily concerned about Grey. Was it because she was a friend of Slater, or had he a more personal interest? Somehow, she could never quite fathom what was going on there. George, though appearing frank and open on the surface, never gave much away. As for Grey and Slater, they were as close as oysters. And where did Martin come in, if he “came in” at all? Rita had found herself asking these kind of questions for some time now, but she had altered strangely since her operation. Now, she was no longer avid for information so that she could pass it on and gossip. She was deeply interested for a different reason.