"Let me be part of your life," she said promptly. "I'm not qualified like Joanna, but I'm sure I could help you with your work."
"I bet you could!" He ruffled her hair. "You haven't been very wise in your own young life, but you've sound judgment where other people are concerned. I've listened to you during some of our sessions."
"Do you have any books I can read on the subject? If I knew more I could —"
"I prefer your knowledge the way it is," he interrupted, and tweaked her hair. "You can take the tray away now, but don't repeat it tomorrow morning."
"Don't you like being fussed over?"
"No."
She picked up the tray and went to the door.
"If you've a couple of hours free you can come with me to the hospital," he said unexpectedly. "My secretary has flu and I need someone to help me with the patients."
Delighted by the offer, she was nonetheless surprised that the nurses did not deal with his patients, though she forbore to mention it until they reached the hospital.
"They're my private patients," he said. "And the hospital nurses are on the National Health."
"Then why do you see your private patients here?" she asked as they went down a pale green corridor to a small waiting room and slightly larger consulting one.
"Because it's cheaper than Harley Street."
"And you've put all your money into the hostel and can't afford to -"
"Just answer the telephone and save your advice," he retorted. "And don't forget to call me Dr. Grayson while we're here."
"No, Doctor. I mean yes, Doctor."
He smiled and disappeared into the next room as the door behind him opened and his first appointment came in.
If Nicola had needed confirmation of Barnaby's reputation she had it during that morning, for the telephone rang incessantly with people wishing to see him, and a constant stream of patients filled the reception room. Only at lunch time did she have a chance to rest, when she took her lunch in the canteen with the other nurses. They all knew she was deputising for Barnaby's regular secretary and assumed her to be a personal friend of his.
"Joanna Morgan usually helps Dr. Grayson when his secretary's away," one of the more chatty ones said as Nicola sipped her coffee. "This is your first time here, isn't it?"
"Yes. I hadn't realised Dr. Grayson had so many private patients."
"He's been inundated since he became a consultant. If he didn't devote so much time to that hostel of his, he'd be at the top of his tree."
"He is already," Nicola said staunchly.
"I was talking about recognition. He won't bother with the right people. You know the sort of thing I mean."
Only too well, Nicola said to herself, but aloud, commented: "I didn't think social climbing was necessary in the medical world."
"It's always necessary. But Dr. Grayson doesn't seem to bother. As I said before, all he cares about is that hostel of his."
"Have you ever been there?" Nicola asked.
"No. He doesn't encourage visits. Says he doesn't want the people staying there to feel they're being studied."
"They're not."
"Not in the obvious way, perhaps, but Joanna Morgan's there the whole time, and she's a top psychiatric worker," the nurse grinned. "From the look on your face I can see you don't like her."
"She's not my favourite person," Nicola murmured, and resolutely said no more. Nicola Rosten could be as outspoken as she liked, but Nicky Rose had to be careful. She pushed back her chair. "Work calls," she said lightly, and returned to her office.
The afternoon was as busy as the morning and she was exhausted by the time six o'clock arrived. Not that her own work was particularly hard, merely that her determination not to make any mistakes kept her tense and on edge. But Barnaby appeared as fresh as ever and strode briskly out to the car, enjoining her to hurry up and follow him.
Driving away from the hospital he was laconic with his praise for her help, but the tone of his voice told her he was pleased with her, a fact confirmed when he asked if she would like to help him for a few more days.
Nicola accepted the offer without attempting to hide her pleasure, for she was delighted at the chance of showing him she had the ability to be useful.
For the rest of the week she did her best to take as many chores from him as possible, and though they were rarely alone together - apart from the drive to and from the hospital - she felt she was seeing another side to his character, which not only increased her love for him, but made her doubly frightened of losing him. At the hostel, where everyone called him Barnaby and treated him like a benign older brother, the pretence she was carrying out seemed no more than a prank, but at the hospital, where he was called Dr. Grayson and treated with all the deference that his position entitled him to, the prank seemed childish and stupid, and more than ever she was determined to end it as quickly as she could.
"I don't know how I'd have managed without you," he said to her one evening as they left the hospital. "You've coped marvellously. But I'm sure you'll be delighted to hear that my secretary is coming back tomorrow."
Pleasure was the last thing Nicola felt, and she said so. "I'll loathe staying at the hostel after this. House chores are so boring."
"Not thinking of running away again, are you?"
"What do you mean by 'again' ? "
He shrugged, and her anger rose as she realised what he meant.
"I was not running off with Marty the other day. I told you I met him by accident."
"I'm sorry," he said instantly. "It's just that somehow you've become -" A child ran into the road and he braked sharply. When he set the car in motion again he did not continue with his sentence and she was forced to guess what he had been going to say.
"Have you never gone out with boys of your own age?" he asked abruptly.
The question caught her unprepared and she thought carefully, knowing it was important to say the right thing. "I've never worried about age. After all, a man of forty can be as callow as one of twenty. And the opposite, of course."
Barnaby kept his eyes on the road. "What made you fall for Marty?"
The impulse to tell him the truth was too strong to be denied and she swivelled round to face him. "There's something I want to tell you. I'm -"
"No," he interrupted swiftly. "Don't tell me anything. I'd no right to question you."
This was a different approach from his previous one and she was not sure she liked it. Yet it followed his earlier assertion that one should think of the future and not the past. But it was not always easy to forget the past, she thought dismally, and wondered what her own reaction would be if she discovered that Barnaby had been involved with someone else - or still was. With Joanna, for instance. Only a few nights ago she had seen them drive off together. Jealousy rose in her like a flood-tide triggering her quick temper.
"It's easy not to ask someone questions if you don't care about them," she snapped. "I wouldn't be so casual about you!"
He continued to drive in silence and her anger rose higher. "What about you and Joanna? It's obvious she's in love with you."
"We won't talk about Joanna, if you don't mind." His voice was harder than she had ever heard it. "I respect other people's private life and I expect the same in return."
"People don't have private lives where you're concerned!" she flared. "Look at your group sessions. Everyone tells you everything!"
"Only because they want to: not because I ask them."
"You never give away anything of your thoughts," she went on bitterly, ignoring his remark.
"I'm not the one in need of help." His voice was mild again, and he slowed the car down and looked at her. "If you like, I can arrange for you to work at the hospital on a more regular basis. They can always use intelligent assistance."
The change of subject stemmed her temper, but the quick pleasure engendered by his words died as she took in their full meaning.
Guessing her disappointment, he said: "I already h
ave a secretary, Nicky, but if you work in the hospital I'll always call on you if I need extra help myself."
She frowned. Working for Barnaby was one thing; to be at the beck and call of people she did not know was another. Added to which she could not lightly take a job at the hospital and then give it up - which she would have to do once she left the hostel. "I'll think about it," she hedged.
"You needn't take it if you don't want to," he said matter-of-factly. "I merely thought you'd enjoy it."
He drew to a stop outside the hostel, and knowing that once inside she would not be alone with him for the rest of the evening, she was reluctant to leave the car.
"Can we go to the pictures?" The words popped out of their own accord, and his grey eyes crinkled with amusement.
"I'll never be able to follow the way your mind works. What prompted that request?"
"I'd like to go out with you," she said truthfully. "I've never been out with a doctor."
"Then we must certainly remedy such a lapse in your education," he said, and before she knew what he was going to do, he put the car in gear and shot off down the road.
"Where are we going?" she gasped, holding on to the eat.
"To the pictures. It's what you wanted, isn't it?"
"Yes, but-"
"If I'd gone in to tell them, I might not have got out again. I'll stop at a phone box and call and say I'll be late."
Anticipating a visit to a local cinema, Nicola was surprised when they sped down the Kings Road to the West End and one of the small theatres showing the latest avant-garde film. As she walked into the foyer she knew a momentary apprehension and cast a furtive look round to make sure she could see no one she knew. Happily her luck held, though she did not breathe a final sigh of relief till she had sat down in the darkness of the auditorium.
The film she saw was both witty and wise, but she could not give it her attention, for her whole being was aware of the man beside her who, to her annoyance, seemed totally absorbed in what was being portrayed on the screen.
But once outside the cinema again, he gave her his undivided attention, and tucked her arm through his, striding along the pavement. Continuing the unexpected, he took her to a discotheque, and this time she knew real fear as they went in, for as she took off her coat in the ladies' cloakroom she came face to face with Deborah, the girl whose amorous embrace with Jeffrey had sent her on the flight that had brought Barnaby into her life.
"Nicky!" the girl squealed. "I've been trying to speak to you for weeks, but nobody knew where you were. I wanted to explain about Jeffrey."
"Some other time," Nicola interrupted. "I've someone waiting for me outside."
"But I can't bear having you angry with me. At least let me -"
"It isn't important any more. And I'm not angry with you - I'm delighted. If it hadn't been for you…" Nicola stopped and caught Deborah's arm. "Is there anyone else here that I know?"
"Not at the moment. But you know what this place is like. After midnight you'll see everyone."
"We'll be gone long before then."
"Who's the 'we'?" Deborah asked archly. "Do I know him?"
"No. And for heaven's sake pretend you don't know me either."
"Why?"
"It's a joke I'm playing," Nicola said desperately. "I'll call you next week and explain."
Not giving the girl a chance to speak again, she hurried out.
Barnaby was already seated at a table, a plate of smoked salmon sandwiches and a bottle of champagne in front of him.
"Sorry I didn't wait outside for you," he grinned, "but if I hadn't grabbed this table we'd have lost it!" He peered at her. "Why the frown?"
"You shouldn't have ordered champagne. It's so expensive here."
It was the first time she had even given a thought to the money spent on her, and she was surprised at herself. Barnaby seemed surprised too, for he smiled and shrugged.
"So what? I deserve to treat myself to the best! I haven't been out like this for months."
Jealousy rose in her. "Who was the girl last time?"
Ignoring the question, he proffered the sandwiches and she took one and forced herself to eat it, knowing it would anger him if she persisted in her catechism.
Not until they had eaten all the sandwiches and drunk half the champagne did he lead her on to the floor to dance, twirl-ing her around with such abandonment that she was breathless by the time they returned to their table.
"Do you always enter into everything so wholeheartedly?" she gasped.
"If a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing well."
The tempo of the music changed abruptly and the dim lights grew dimmer. Not giving him a chance to sit down, she pulled him back on the floor.
"I thought you were tired," he protested.
"Not for this kind of dancing!"
"This isn't dancing," he said as she clung closely to him. "It's making love in time to music!"
"Is that wrong?" she whispered.
"It's too right," he whispered back, and put his cheek on hers. He had to bend his head a long way down to do so, and she stood on tiptoe and wished she was wearing high heels.
"I'll lift you up if you like," he teased, and proceeded to do so.
"Beast," she said in a low voice, and he chuckled and set her down again, but remained holding her close as the music throbbed soulfully and the vocalist wailed a paean of love.
Nicola could have remained in Barnaby's arms for ever, but a glimpse of Deborah made her realise it was nearly midnight. She had to leave here before any more of her friends arrived. If Jeffrey came in and saw her…
She jerked away from Barnaby. "It's late - we must go."
"We don't need to leave on my account."
"I'm tired," she replied, and at once he led her back to the table.
Within a few moments they were out in the fresh air again, but not until they were some yards from the discotheque did her nervousness decrease and her pace slow down.
"What was all that about?" he asked.
"All what?"
"Your running out of that place like a scalded cat."
The simile made her laugh, and once started the laughter would not stop: a sign of the tension she had been under since entering the discotheque and seeing Deborah.
Catching her arm, Barnaby propelled her towards the car, half-carrying her as her laughter made it progressively difficult for her to walk. He unlocked the door, pushed her into the seat and got in beside her. "Stop it," he commanded. "You'll have hysterics."
"I'm sorry," she giggled, "it must be the champagne." Laughter rose in her again and her lips parted, but before a sound could come his mouth was hard on hers and the laughter died within her, replaced by an urgent longing which he had been the first man to arouse and would be the only man to appease. "Oh, Barnaby," she cried, and clung to him with abandonment.
In the close confines of the car it was not easy for him to push her away, and after a half-hearted attempt to do so, he gave up and instead held her close and stroked her hair and cheeks as though she were a child. With a sigh of contentment she curved herself into his side and rested her head on his shoulder.
"You're just a little girl who likes to be cuddled," he said huskily. "Perhaps you grew up in an orphanage after all, and are still looking for a father-figure."
"I don't feel daughterly towards you."
"I certainly don't feel fatherly!" His voice was still low and relaxed. "You've finally got your way with me, Nicky. This is what you've wanted since you first saw me."
"To have you make love to me?"
"Just to have me, I think. You need the confidence of knowing you're wanted. I suspect it's because you're unsure of yourself as a woman."
She absorbed his words slowly, knowing that on one level they were true; she was unsure of herself as a woman. But that was because she had never known whether she was wanted for herself or her money. That was why Barnaby's love meant so much to her. She sighed and clung to him. It was ir
onic that he could guess her feelings without being aware of the real reason for them.
"Now I've conquered you," she whispered, "what other plans do I have?"
"You haven't conquered me," he replied.
"You're here, aren't you, and you're not pushing me away!"
"I couldn't push you far in this car."
"You're not even trying."
"I know when I'm on a losing bet!" He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, his expression unfathomable in the dimness. "I'm employing different tactics tonight, Nicky. Fighting you will only make you worse, so I'm giving in to you in the hope that you'll be satisfied and…"
Deliberately he began to kiss her again, and she wound her arms round his neck and refused to think of what he had just said, happy to accept his surrender without bothering about his motivation.
It was one o'clock when they returned to the hostel and she was dismayed to see Joanna's Renault still parked by the curb.
Even as they walked towards the front door it was opened by Joanna herself, her expression anxious. "Where on earth have you been, Barnaby? I was frantic!"
He snapped his fingers in exasperation. "I tried to call to you once, but the number was engaged, and then it slipped my mind. I'm sorry, my dear."
Joanna forced herself to smile, but she still looked strained. "Where did you go? What happened?"
"I took Nicky to the cinema."
Joanna stared thoughtfully at Nicola's slight figure, and though she did not say a word, her look spoke volumes.
"Go to bed, Nicky," Barnaby intervened. "You look tired."
Sensing that he wanted her to leave, she flashed him a smile and ran up the stairs. At the top of the first flight she turned to wave at him, but the hall was empty and she was just in time to see the door of the sitting room close.
Heart thumping, she leaned over the banisters, but there was no sound from the room below and some of her happiness evaporated. She continued upstairs more slowly, wondering what Joanna was saying to him and, even more important, what he was saying to her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nicola's evening out with Barnaby marked a subtle change in their relationship. There was an ease between them that had not been there before, a camaraderie slightly different from that which he displayed towards the others. However, she did not consider it sufficiently noticeable to cause comment, and she could not hide her surprise when Gillian remarked on it one evening as they got ready for bed.
Roberta Leigh - Cinderella in Mink Page 11
