by Ramsay, Anna
Paul and Sylvia. They had concealed their feelings for each other so well. One never could have guessed.
She made haste for the children's ward to bury her sorrows in work.
Chapter Nine
Gradually Jenni came to realise that her distress stemmed from shock and did not truly reach heart-deep. She'd made a bit of a fool of herself—but heavens, it was only her pride that was suffering. She feared she must unwittingly have given Sylvia an uncomfortable time. Well, that was water under the bridge now, and when the couple announced their engagement she would pull all the stops out to show her genuine delight.
Funnily enough, the prospect was quite heart-warming. For Jenni was discovering it wasn't just her pride putting a clown's mask on the face of tragedy. There was no tragedy. She genuinely did wish her friends a long and happy life together.
On her arrival at the Mbusa Wa Bwino Paul had quite literally swept her off her feet with shouts of delight at seeing 'his little Jenni' again after seven long years. But the reality wasn't a patch on the dreams. Oh yes, he was a hero of a man. But the chemistry wasn't there. For Paul's heart already belonged to Sylvia.
Jenni saw now how mistaken she'd been, assuming Paul never intended to marry. Sylvia and he had so much in common, had shared so many experiences together. It was right. It was good. It was meant to be. How delighted for him all the Westcott family would be!
Jenni didn't say anything to Paul. As far as he and Sylvia knew, their secret was still theirs alone. They were unaware that Matt had been outside the office when a distraught Sylvia rushed past and abandoning her customary cool self-control hurled herself into Paul's arms. Thus had Matt put two and two together, passing his calculation on to a startled Jenni.
She checked her watch. Ten past six. Tuesday. Funny ... his truck was already gone. Surely he couldn't have forgotten she was taking out his stitches today? She glanced doubtfully at the scattering of crumbs and the pile of dirty dishes which testified to others having made an earlier start.
'Has Paul gone out?’ She addressed her question to the only other person seated at the breakfast table. ‘I was supposed to take Paul's stitches out today,’ she said with a puzzled frown.
'I took them out myself,' returned the doctor crisply, noting the flicker of disappointment in her shadowy golden eyes. 'C'mon, have some toast. I don't think you eat enough. You look tired.'
Jennifer Westcott had lost her vivacious sparkle and Ross reckoned he knew why.
The nuns had taught the African cooks to bake their own bread. It quickly turned stale in a tropical climate but made delicious toast for breakfast. Ross tipped two slices onto Jenni's empty plate. She stared at them for a moment, dully, as if lacking any appetite. Then she lifted her head and asked anxiously if Paul’s wound was satisfactory.
'Perfectly,' reassured the doctor, pulling her plate towards him and spreading margarine and marmalade thickly as if to help a listless child. 'Paul has taken Sylvia with him into Dar for a couple of days.'
They had gone to buy an engagement ring, but Ross was not going to say so. On their return they planned a party for everyone: a farewell to Ross and the big announcement of their own.
Ross had devised a scheme that would get Jenni herself away from the Mission and give the girl something concrete to worry about—like rampaging elephants and charging black rhino. With no one but Ross around to see, she'd have the chance to relax that stiff upper lip; and she could cry on his shoulder, if she chose to…
Now was a good moment to broach his plan.
'When I officially finish my contract at the end of next week I plan to camp out for a few nights in one of the wildlife areas. How about you coming along to keep me company?'
He didn't think he'd ever seen a face look more astonished! 'We could take a small tent, stay a couple of nights at Lake Manyara, travel on to the Serengeti National Park. Do you the world of good to have a short break.’
'A break?' stuttered Jenni, completely thrown by the idea of spending a night in a small tent alone with Ross. So she'd been wrong about Sylvia: that couldn't alter the fact that there was a Mrs McDonnell somewhere back in the UK. And an experienced girl didn't tangle with a married man. Once bitten – twice shy!
Her eloquent hazel-gold eyes studied the harshlined unshaven face regarding her with something very like tenderness. She looked down at the toast on her plate and back up at Ross, forcing herself not to let his unexpected kindnesses undermine her determination not to put her heart at such risk. It would be the experience of a lifetime and totally memorable – in the daytime. But at night in the intimacy of a small tent the sexual tension would be overwhelming. They woudn’t be able to fight it…
It would be fun at first – but just another affair that could lead nowhere other than heartbreak for her and misery for his wife.
She must give her answer with a cool sensible head and not let this heartbreaking man see how painfully she was torn in two.
'I can't imagine why you think I could just go off with you like that when there's so much to do here. If you need company, take Matt along,’ she added pointedly, veiling eyes that might give away the secret of her foolish heart which was saying yes yes yes …
Ross's grey eyes sparked with anger. She didn't fool him with her devotion to duty. 'If you don't want to come with me,' he said curtly, 'fair enough. Don't give it another thought.'
Jenni raised her eyebrows and shrugged her slim shoulders, but her heart was pounding and nothing could conceal the rise and fall of her white-uniformed breast.
The rebuff was so frustrating that Ross leapt to his feet and his chair jerked backwards with a scrape of wood on uncarpeted floorboards. Let the dear stubborn girl stay here and face the inevitable. 'If that’s how you feel,’ he said in a voice that sounded as if he had gargled with diesel, 'I’ll go alone and I won’t mention it again. If you change your mind, send me a postcard! I never ask a woman twice.'
The doctor strode out, banging the doors behind him. Temper, temper! I never ask a woman twice! She really had got to him, hadn't she? He was the angry one now, and she was cucumber-cool with a pulse that was calming back to normal. Extraordinary that she could affect Ross so deeply… and rather exciting … He was cross as hell that she wasn't turning out as co-operative as that night when he had taken her by surprise.
Jenni knew that she was going to be haunted by regrets. To be totally alone with Ross on safari would have been a dream come true – before it turned into the inevitable nightmare. What a wily invitation though. You had to give the doctor credit for his seductive technique. With a sigh she picked up the toast he had buttered for her and bit into it with a crunch, smearing marmalade all over her chin. He had reckoned on her being fully aware of what she was agreeing to, disguising the assignation as a break for her health and well-being. Oh no, Dr McDonnell. After the thrills comes the broken heart. And you could break my heart with your ruthless grey eyes alone.
But easier said than done. 'I never ask a woman twice!' he had promised grittily. And the finality of this preyed on Jenni's mind all through the morning.
By lunchtime she was feeling desperate and reckless. They might never meet again. Memories were all she would have, so better to have those memories than just one never-to-be-forgotten kiss.
To get away for forty-eight hours or so would recharge her batteries. And what an opportunity Ross was offering her, the chance to see the wild life of Tanzania in its natural habitat.
Maybe he meant to take two tents. Maybe she’d misunderstood.
As the last mother and baby left the afternoon clinic, Jenni waited with beating heart for the right moment to approach Dr McDonnell and say to his face, as offhandedly as she could manage, May I take you up on your invitation?
She was checking and filing record cards when the doctor came in like a whirlwind, interrupting her busy thoughts, making her heart squeeze up like a concertina. Get a grip on yourself! warned Jenni's inner self. You want Ross to diagnose that you're suf
fering from Fatal Attraction?
But the doctor had weightier problems to deal with than Jenni's weak-kneed condition. Grimfaced, he strode over to the stone sink to wash his hands. 'Three cases of measles, and all from a settlement which hasn't yet had an inoculation programme.' Jenni saw the frown creasing his sunburned forehead, her troubled eyes tracing the sensual furrows running from nose to mouth, more deep-etched than ever by his sombre mood. 'I must get over there before the light goes, check all the children.'
Dusk fell around six and with great rapidity. 'I'm coming with you,' said Jenni in a try-and-stop-me tone of voice, tents and safari parks quite forgotten. 'I'll pack a refrigerated bag with vaccines and antibiotics.' How many children were too sick for their mothers to struggle to the clinic for help? she wondered anxiously. The sore eyes, the rattling coughs, the skin rashes. Here in the bush, measles was a very different story from back home. These children were malnourished and physically weak. Pneumonia was a frequent complication. 'We could be facing an epidemic!'
'One shot of penicillin is a life-saver.'
Ross massaged his aching lower back. There'd been an obstetric emergency during the night. Crouching in windowless huts, dirty and rank with the smell of smoke, coaxing reluctant babies into the world. No picnic for someone of his height! Even a five-minute catnap would help, but there wasn’t a moment to waste.
'I’ll tell Matt we’re going,' said Jenni quickly, sensing a rare fatigue in the Boss and determined he was not going to travel on his own. ‘Meet you in the dispensary in five minutes.' She ran to her room and changed into jeans and a man-size T-shirt, throwing a sweater across her shoulders.
Ross drove on the close-shave side of dangerous along the dreadful roads with Jenni silent beside him, clinging on to the grab rail.
When they crunched down the last rutted track and pulled to a halt, it was clear that their forecast had been right and that all was far from well.
'An evil spirit has come to our village and caused illness among our children,' mourned the people flocking to meet them. Ross managed a rough translation which horrified Jenni.
'But why didn't they send for us sooner?' she agonised.
A dreadful wailing was coming from a group of women. Nurse and doctor were led into a hut where Jenni saw the saddest sight of her life. The medicine man had been unable to find the cause of the calamity and it was too late to save several small lives. She stumbled blindly from the hut and would have tripped had not Ross gripped her arm and wordlessly conveyed that she must steel herself to cope.
He estimated there were about twenty families in this small settlement. There was no time to be lost. One single shot of penicillin could clear the lungs and save a child's life.
Ross indicated that he needed a small fire to boil water for sterilising hypodermic needles. The villagers set one burning with a slowness that had Jenni almost gibbering with impatience. Since there were no tables or chairs, treatment had to be given there and then, crouching on the ground with the women kneeling on their haunches and the menfolk crowding round the group, their wailing forgotten as they watched nurse and doctor with absorbing curiosity.
Jenni never ceased to marvel at the African's stoical acceptance of pain. Mothers brought forward sad-looking children in slings on their backs, and offered their babes in arms. The people pressed closer to see the white man's medicine, and in particular the strange needle which those who had been to the clinic reported to have magic powers.
Ross didn't even bother to use his stethoscope on the moaning, coughing children. With the flat of his hand upon a burning chest he could feel the roughness of the breathing within.
Jenni held each child in her arms as it received its injection from the doctor. One tiny boy was coughing up the bloody froth indicative of pneumonia. 'Poor little things, they're so pitiful,' she whispered, knowing no one but Ross could understand her. 'Why didn't they call us before? These are people who know we can help.'
'God only knows,' Ross ground out bitterly. 'Feared more trouble from their spirits, I guess. Here, Jenni, get this lot sterilised for me. How are we off for penicillin?'
'We're doing OK, but what if Paul doesn't bring supplies back from Dar? It's not as if this is his usual trip.'
'Then I'll drive there myself and pick up some more. That's the least of our problems. You can start worrying about how I get you back to the Mission. I may be an expert with eyes, but even I have my limitations in the dark.'
He made it sound like a joke. Jenni wasn't seriously worried. As they rumbled away from the village she even managed a sneaking hope that they'd get well and truly lost and have to stop and crash out in the back of the Land Rover…
To her everlasting shame she fell fast asleep and wasn't an ounce of help with navigating. And it was Ross who staggered to his room hollow-eyed to snatch a couple of hours' sleep and Jenni who was wide awake and full of regrets that after all she hadn't managed to tell him of her change of mind. Everyone seemed to be doing disappearing acts these days. Paul and Sylvia had returned from Dar, but now the doctor had vanished and no one had seen him since the afternoon.
Paul had an announcement to make during supper. 'What will you have first?' he asked jovially. 'The good news—or the bad?'
Jenni sat there, puzzled. Paul couldn't be referring to his engagement, since Sylvia was openly sporting a modest diamond on the third finger of her left hand and the glad tidings were all round the Mission. Jenni had responded to the news with an enormous hug for the happy couple and a smacking kiss on Paul's bearded cheek. Ross had given her a very strange look, as if disapproving of her genuine delight. His attitude could be quite mystifying at times—but then, grimaced Jenni, he probably considered Paul would have done better to remain a bachelor!
She did rather hope Sylvia would never know about Helen, and it had been quite a shock when in the laundry room where they were rinsing out their white uniforms, Paul's new fiancée herself raised the matter. 'Look, Jen,' she confided disarmingly, 'I wasn't very nice to you when you arrived, and I'm sorry about that. It was a misunderstanding. Paul has told me he was once engaged to your sister, and I've ticked him off for not telling me earlier. It must have been very awkward for you.'
On a surge of heady relief that such secrets were out in the open, Jenni decided now was the moment to clear her own conscience. 'Awkwrd yes,' she admitted, 'but perhaps not quite in the way you mean. I thought you and Dr McDonnell were ... I mean, I never realised about you and Paul, you see. I thought you might be going to marry Ross. Then I discovered he was married already,' she went on with a rush, 'and since no one else seemed to know about this I was desperately worried about whether I should tell you—or mind my own business!'
Hearing this, Sylvia shouted with laughter. 'Paul and Ross!' she hiccupped. 'Jen, I'm truly flattered.' Then she sighed and her expression grew solemn. 'Ross's marriage,' she said darkly, tipping soapflakes into a bowl of warm water and adding several items of lacy peach underwear, 'is a tragedy. His wife is living openly with another man. I gather she's a very bright lady—lectures in French at the university near the hospital. Her boyfriend's in the same department and I suppose they inevitably saw a lot of each other. It’s a good thing no children are involved.'
Jenni said nothing, slipping her white dresses on to plastic hangers and hanging them up to drip dry. Her thoughts were now deeply confused…
'One night Ross stayed up late talking to me and Paul. We'd opened one of those rare bottles of wine some kind soul sends out to us. He was tired and I dare say the wine loosened him up a bit. Paul told him about—well, about us. Ross was pleased, but it triggered off unhappy memories for him. He told us about Stefanie—so you see I did know about her. She's a Doctor—'
'A doctor? But I thought you said—'
'No, no—not a medical doctor. She's a D.Phil.Oxon. An academic, not a homemaker. She didn't want to cook or look after the house, and it was only after they were married that she admitted to Ross she had never wanted chil
dren. That shattered Ross. Well, they ended up living separate lives, even before she moved right out of their home and went off to live with this other guy.'
'Why didn't Ross get a divorce?' asked Jenni painfully.
Forgive me, Ross, for breaking your confidence, thought Sylvia. But better Jen should know the truth instead of imagining you to be some sort of ogre. You married a bitch. You'll never say so.
'He saw the break-up of their marriage as his own failure. Simple as that. Once he learns to love again, then he won't be able to get that divorce quickly enough, you mark my words.' Sylvia stared meaningfully at Jenni, willing her to remember all of this, every single word. Then to lighten the sombre mood she asked, 'What do you think of these, Jen? Pure silk and a Paris label—well, I'd got a bit saved up and I said to myself, Sylvia girl, you only get married once in a lifetime ...' She held up a damp pair of lace-trimmed French knickers, unaware of the poignancy of what she had just said.
In her case it would undoubtedly be true, brooded Jenni wistfully.
'Fancy you thinking that about me and Ross. What a hoot!' Sylvia leaned against the windowsill and watched Jenni as she carefully ironed a fine lawn top. 'We've so much in common, me and Paul, but it hasn’t happened overnight, oh no. It has sort of crept up on us slowly. I mean, when I came out here I thought he was some kind of a monk, you know, with the nuns here and everything. Oh boy, do I know different now!'
Jenni felt this was getting a bit embarrassing, but Sylvia was in full flow and there was no stopping her now. It was clearly a relief for her to come clean, and Jenni was a captive audience though her thoughts kept drifting back to the lonely doctor and his complex private life.
'I admired Paul from afar but never allowed myself to think of him in—well, romantic terms,' reminisced the older nurse happily. Jenni came to with a start and heard her saying, '… with Africa in our blood, I honestly don't think either of us could live anywhere else.'
