“He was pretty scathing to Sister—and poor Jones, she got a ticking off too,” Felicity admitted.
“Oh well, I ought to be going.” Diana turned towards the door. “I’ve locked up everything except the outer door; if I leave the keys with you, will you see to that? Pop them on the board in Matron’s office as you go up to Mason’s.”
“All right—see you later.” Felicity waited for her friend to disappear then glanced round the still disordered room. She certainly hadn’t time to indulge in smoking, she couldn’t enjoy it any way. Perhaps Diana had been right, she was too conscientious, she always tried to stick pretty rigidly to the rules, her troublesome conscience wouldn’t allow otherwise. She had already turned towards the window with every intention of flinging away the cigarette when the sound of footsteps held her rooted to the spot. Who on earth could it be?—perhaps Diana was returning—perhaps a stray porter who had seen the outer door unlocked? She was not left long in doubt, Guy Brenton’s appearance so quickly followed the warning sound of footsteps, that she still stood immobile as his figure blocked the doorway. Never had he seemed so tall, never so forbidding, yet she felt unable to move and only some warning instinct forced her to conceal the cigarette behind her back, although she knew full well that nothing on earth would, conceal the guilty flush which had mounted her cheeks.
“I came back for my wrist, watch—I wonder where I put it? I remember now, over there on the ledge.” Apparently unaware of the shock his arrival had caused Felicity, he walked nonchalantly across the room, picked up his watch and began to strap it round his wrist. In fact he seemed scarcely aware of her presence and although miserably conscious of the wretched cigarette still burning between her fingers, Felicity was just beginning to breathe again when he turned to address her. Whatever he had been going to say died on his lips, and for a tense moment he stared at her in silence. Slowly his expression hardened and she knew there could be no further evasion. “Somewhat against rules smoking on duty, isn’t it?”
Felicity nodded mutely, she felt utterly incapable of speech, wholly submerged in shame. Something akin to fear quickened her pulses. She had committed a flagrant breach of the rules, what would he say about it—what would he do?
“Such behaviour scarcely befits your position as Staff Nurse. I believe you are expected to set an example to your juniors, you are obviously not sufficiently reliable to hold a post of responsibility.”
The stern criticism did nothing to temper Felicity’s anxiety as she visualized the possible result of her thoughtless action. He’d tell Matron and she’d lose her job—the senior position for which she’d worked so hard for the past three years. Despairingly she scanned his face but she could detect no vestige of sympathy.
“I’m sorry,” she faltered, then realizing the futility of any excuse or appeal, she lapsed again into silence. What a fool she’d been, what a complete fool. Even at this moment of her own dire predicament, she was deeply aware of Guy Brenton’s magnetic attraction, of his dominant personality which threatened to submerge her, then, with a determination not to cringe but to match her strength with his, unfalteringly she met the steely penetration of his gaze and unconsciously tilting her chin a trifle higher, waited resolutely for him to speak. She tensed herself for the words she dreaded to hear and then—when he was about to speak, the door was pushed open and, to her horror and amazement, Theatre Sister stood on the threshold.
“Oh, Nurse Dene, I am looking for my Staff Nurse. I saw the outer door was unlocked, I thought she might still be here.” She paused and sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose suspiciously. “What on earth...” she broke off in some confusion as, apparently for the first time, she perceived the surgeon’s presence. “Oh—Mr. Brenton—I didn’t see you at first—I’m sorry, sir, I was wondering if Nurse Weste was anywhere around.”
Before Felicity had the remotest idea of Guy Brenton’s intention, he had moved swiftly to her side and, to her alarm, she felt him draw the cigarette from between her nerveless fingers. Unconsciously she squared her shoulders preparing for the onslaught of words, then smothered the exclamation which had sprung to her lips as she saw him turn deliberately to the window and fling the cigarette outside.
“Sorry to be smoking in your sacred precincts, Sister,” Guy Brenton gave a short laugh. “If I’d found any of the students smoking here I should be the first to censure them.”
“It doesn’t matter one bit, sir,” Sister protested. “We’ve closed down for the day. Well, I must be running off. I’ll see if Nurse Weste is over in the Home. Mind you lock up properly, Nurse Dene,” she admonished as she disappeared.
The unexpected turn of events completely robbed Felicity of all initiative and for the moment she could only stare at her companion in silent perplexity. What did it all mean, why hadn’t he said anything? Surely he hadn’t been trying to cover up for her? The idea was too absurd, as if Guy Brenton were likely to do anything like that! It was completely out of character and quite unconsciously a mirthless smile played momentarily round her lips.
“You seemed amused.” The words were rapped out and hardly served to add to Felicity’s confidence.
“I’m not, would you be?” There was a ring of defiance in her voice and at that moment she found herself strangely indifferent to the consequences. Her previous good record gave her little experience of trouble but at least her action threw no discredit upon her work. She had never failed in any responsibility, and if a silly infringement of the rules was to cost her her position as Staff Nurse, then it was grossly unfair and a little further indiscretion hardly seemed to matter. “It isn’t even as if I enjoyed smoking—but then Matron is hardly likely to take that into account.”
“What has it got to do with Matron?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
Felicity, who had expected her show of defiance to be followed by some scathing comment which would completely rob her of her assumed bravado, was dumbfounded at the question—not only the question but the hint of a smile which had curved his lips, softening his whole expression. “I suppose you intend to report me to Matron?”
“I didn’t say so, why jump to conclusions?” He turned towards the door as if tiring of the discussion, and now there was no mistaking the amusement underlying his words. “You anticipate trouble, all you nurses do that, cry out before you’re hurt. They say there is no smoke without fire, perhaps it’s lucky for you that you managed to display both!”
CHAPTER TWO
During the three years in which Felicity had studied as a nurse at St. Edwin’s Hospital she had frequently found reason to recall a favourite maxim of her father’s. Sir Frampton Dene, who had died when she was still in her teens, had always asserted that there was nothing on earth or in Heaven to which the human body could not eventually adjust itself. He had been deeply interested in geological research and Felicity now believed he must certainly have been referring to matters beyond her understanding for she had found .indisputably that however long she remained a nurse at St. Edwin’s—or indeed anywhere else—her particular human body would never be able to accustom itself to getting up at the ungodly hour of six-thirty in the morning! This particular morning was no better than the hundreds of mornings that had gone before; her whole being revolted at the idea of throwing off the enveloping warmth of the bedclothes and with a guilty glance at her bedside clock, she snuggled down again for just those last few moments which she had never yet found strength to resist. It happened every morning, one day she’d just drop off to sleep again, she knew she would, and then the fat would be in the fire! That disturbing thought jogged Felicity into wakefulness and with a determined effort she raised her dark-lashed lids and fixed her eyes on the square of early morning light filtering through the window. Her loosened hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders framing in deep gold the smooth contour of her face, small-featured with a slightly tilted nose and provoking dimples at the corners of her lips, dimples which came and went as she laughed, reflecting the animation whic
h laughter invariably brought to her azure blue eyes—eyes which at the moment were only concerned with the importance of keeping awake!
The sudden opening of her bedroom door rudely awakened her from the semi-conscious state in which she was indulging—it was more than a mere awakening, it was a distinct shock, since however deep any friendship between the nurses, it was quite understood that there was no time for visiting one another or idle chatter at that hour of the morning when all energies were concentrated on one thing and one thing only, to get up and dressed, to snatch some breakfast and, most important of all, to report for duty at the allotted hour.
With a feeling akin to panic, Felicity sat up to confront the interloper. “Good heavens! Diana! ... what on earth’s the matter? Don’t tell me I’ve overslept, has my watch stopped or something awful like that?” Without waiting to have her fears confirmed she tumbled out of bed and began to pull on her clothes with feverish haste.
A glint of amusement flickered round Diana Weste’s lips as she watched her friends efforts. “No hurry, darling, you’ve loads of time.” The words were laconically spoken and matched the ease with which Diana carefully lifted her freshly laundered apron before seating herself on the edge of Felicity’s crumpled bed.
It was a moment or two before Felicity had grasped the significance of her companion’s words, then, pausing in her effort to dress, she turned her face, flushed with her exertions, towards Diana. “What on earth do you mean? Isn’t it late, haven’t I overslept?”
“No, darling, you’ve loads of time, it’s really quite early, I rushed along because I wanted to catch you before breakfast.”
“Well ... I’m jiggered!” There was an expression of deep disgust in Felicity’s tone as, one stocking on and the other pulled half-way up her slender leg, she faced her friend. “You’ve got a nerve coming in here at this hour of the morning, frightening the wits out of me. What’s the matter with you, have you gone crazy?”
“I didn’t say a thing about you being late, you got out of bed and chased round like a maniac before I could get a word in edgeways.” Diana laughed at her companion’s injured air, then added: “I’ve got some devastating news for you ... absolutely amazing!” She leaned forward to give weight to her words. “Just wait until you hear what I’ve got to tell you!”
“Whatever you have to tell me can wait! Hospital gossip is bad enough at any time but if you think I am in a fit state to swallow it on an empty stomach, then you can guess again.” With slow deliberation, in contrast to her previous haste, Felicity pulled on her stocking and carefully adjusted her suspenders. “For goodness sake clear off and let me get dressed in peace.” She deliberately turned her back on her unwelcome visitor as she crossed to the wash-basin and turned on the taps.
“Hurry up and wash, I can’t talk to you with the water running,” Diana protested. There was a note of rising excitement in her voice which even if she heard it Felicity ignored. Determined to attract her companion’s attention Diana added meaningly: “It’s about Mr. Brenton ... now will you listen?”
This time Diana was not disappointed. Felicity straightened up to reveal a wet, soapy face. “About Mr. Brenton ... what about him, what are you trying to tell me?”
“I thought you weren’t interested in hospital gossip!” It was now Diana’s turn to procrastinate and with a sense of inward amusement she watched Felicity hastily snatch at a towel and after a perfunctory rub, thrust it back on the rail. “I expect my news can wait.” Determined to get her own back, Diana rose slowly from the bed and turned towards the door.
“Come back, don’t be silly!”
Diana, who had not had any intention of leaving before she had confided her knowledge, adopted an expression of pained surprise. “I don’t want to disturb you, better get dressed, I’ll see you later. It can wait until after breakfast.”
“Oh, come on,” Felicity coaxed, pushing her friend back to her seat on the bed. “Tell me, what about Mr. Brenton, what have you heard?” As Diana remained obstinately silent, Felicity gave her a friendly shake. “Don’t be so tantalizing. You come here at crack of dawn, give me the fright of my life and now you say it can wait until after breakfast!”
“And so it could have done as far as you are concerned if I hadn’t happened to mention that my information concerned your beloved Mr. Brenton,” Diana teased.
A warm flush stained Felicity’s cheeks at her friend’s words and in an effort to conceal her feelings she turned back to her dressing-table and busied herself powdering her face and combing through the tangled waves of her hair. It was obvious from her companion’s laugh that her discomfiture had not escaped notice and for the thousandth time Felicity deplored that ready blush which only too easily betrayed her emotions. Why blush at the mention of Guy Brenton, she asked herself angrily, while she gave vent to her feelings with an extra tug of the comb.
“He is not my ‘beloved’ as you call him,” Felicity denied with a note of asperity in her voice. “Considering I am working on his ward I suppose it is only natural I am interested in the man.” She pulled on her blue print dress and fastened the buttons with fingers trembling with suppressed irritation. “It’s just damnable how you all chaff me about him, just because I’ve got enough guts to stand up to Brenton while you all just show you are scared and almost ask to be bullied...” She broke off with a cry of exasperation. “These wretched buttonholes, they’ve starched them so much I can’t get the buttons through!” She wriggled her arms up and down. “The armholes too, they are like a nutmeg-grater, my skin will be rubbed sore by this evening!”
“Oh, pipe down, it’s just the way you’re feeling.” Diana laughed softly. Felicity’s quick-changing moods were no novelty and to Diana they just added to her friend’s charm. “Well, don’t you want to hear the news?”
“Of course I do ... at least you may as well spill it, you won’t leave me in peace until you have.” Felicity spoke with assumed indifference. Diana had certainly managed to arouse her curiosity by the mention of Guy Brenton’s name. What on earth could she have heard about him? Surely last night’s incident in the theatre couldn’t possibly have leaked out?
“Do you think you could tell me as well from the armchair? If you’ll get off my bed, I might have a chance to make it,” she suggested with an indifference she was far from feeling.
Diana shifted her position reluctantly, it wasn’t much fun imparting her information to Felicity’s back but she was pretty sure that when her friend heard what she had to say she’d soon turn her attention from bed-making. “Well, in the first place Mr. Brenton was in a car accident last night, he is hurt, seriously too.”
Her words had the desired effect and in a second Felicity had swung round to face her. “Hurt? Seriously? What do you mean?”
Satisfied with the effect of her disclosure, Diana went on eagerly. “It was like this: you remember how wet it was, well, it was a skid, a bus skidded into his car and the whole thing was completely smashed up!” She leaned forward and continued with dramatic effect. “And I’ll tell you something else, he was brought here and warded in the private room at the end of Mason Ward!”
“In Mason’s?” Felicity had by now quite forgotten her intention of tidying her bed, she had sunk down on the rumpled eiderdown and was staring at her companion, her blue eyes wide with astonishment. “You mean he is on my ward? A patient? Diana, you are pulling my leg, it’s not possible!”
“It’s not only possible, it’s a fact,” Diana asserted. “No one knows yet, except the night staff ... not even Sister!” she added with obvious satisfaction.
“Then how do you know?” Felicity retorted, for a second harbouring some doubts as to the veracity of the news.
“You know that Molly Kent’s room is next to mine, I heard her called out last night, she was radiographer ‘on call’ this week. After that awful day in theatre yesterday I had a fiendish headache so I got up and made myself a cup of tea; I heard her come back, so I called her in and offered her a
cup. She told me all about it.” As Felicity still seemed dazed and bereft of words, Diana was only too glad to be able to continue her story. “Fractured arm and ribs, I believe, but anyway he is pretty queer, Miss Trent said he was quite knocked out. Won’t Sister get a shock when she goes on duty this morning!” Diana smothered a giggle. “I pity Mr. Brenton, fancy being nursed by Sister Robinson!”
“After all, it’s an orthopaedic ward, the natural place for him to go.” Felicity demurred while she silently considered the import of Diana’s revelation. There seemed to be so many disquieting aspects of the news. It affected her strangely that Guy Brenton, consulting surgeon to the orthopaedic section, should now lie ill in his own particular ward. Apart from that, somehow Felicity found it difficult to visualize him anything but fit and virile, he was so essentially the dominating factor of the ward, stand-offish and aloof as he might be, one remained very much aware of his personality during his daily visits. To think of him as sick, helpless, seemed incredible. Her thoughts were brought to an abrupt close as Diana resumed.
“I’m asking you, can you imagine Sister Robinson nursing him?” This time Diana laughed outright at the thought. “It really will be a riot.”
“I admit Mr. Brenton can be pretty rude at times to the nurses but he always seems to be reasonably polite to Sister,” Felicity protested defensively, as, having now apparently given up any idea of stripping the bed, she compromised with a perfunctory pat to the pillows and pulling up and smoothing the sheets.
“Oh, yes, he is all right with her on the ward, after all she is very efficient, but he has never been her patient. I wonder if he has any idea what he is in for? Do you think she will adopt that maddeningly childish attitude with him that she does with the other patients? Can you imagine how Brenton will take it if she starts patting him on the back and saying, ‘There, be a good boy and do as we tell you, now do try, just to please Sister’.”
Ring for the Nurse Page 2
