“It’s been a relief to tell someone,” Felicity admitted, then went irrelevantly, “How did you know Guy Brenton was leaving?”
“I heard in theatre this morning, can’t remember who told me.”
“There must be a grape-vine system at St. Edwins, I never knew news get around so fast anywhere.”
“I suppose you won’t be sorry to see the back of him, will you? It must have been awful nursing him, Philip says it’s marvellous how you’ve managed.” Diana spoke with admiration.
“I’m sorry he’s going,” Felicity acknowledged. “It’s odd, but you know I’ve enjoyed nursing him.”
There was a moment’s silence during which Felicity was uncomfortably aware of her friend’s searching glance. “I’ve often pulled your leg about Guy Brenton—we all did—I mean before the accident—tell me the truth, Felicity—you know you can trust me—do you seriously care about the man or something?”
“I like him—admire him—more than anyone.” There was, despite her effort at nonchalance, a note of intensity in her voice.
“Good heavens!” At any other time Felicity would have been driven to laughter at Diana’s expression of mixed awe and horror. “You—you seriously mean that?” She broke off, searching vainly for words. “You really care about him, and I never guessed for a moment.” She relapsed into silence.
“I know it must sound crazy but don’t misunderstand me. I’m not a schoolgirl harbouring a secret passion, it’s just that I once believed I could never care for any man again, that Peter was, and always would be the only man in my life. I know now that isn’t true. I loved Peter, but I was so young and Guy Brenton has shown me that I could forget.”
“I think I begin to see.” Diana spoke with slow deliberation. “Of course, that’s different, one day you are bound to care for someone and if it has taken Guy Brenton to open your eyes, that’s all to the good—I got you all wrong at first—I might have known you would hardly have run the risk of giving Alaine her ring back if you’d been keen on him yourself, that would have been too quixotic! Oh well, if he has managed to open your eyes to the future and helped you to bury, the past, then handing him his love back on a platter was the feast service you could render him in return.”
“Yes—but—” Felicity bit back the words. What was the use, she scarcely understood her own emotions, so surely it was a problem no one could share. Perhaps had she found the courage to delve into her heart it might have made a difference; she scarcely knew, but if Guy Brenton loved and needed Alaine, then at whatever the cost to herself she knew she would have stopped at nothing to further that end.
CHAPTER NINE
It had been all very well for Felicity to dismiss her doubts by the simple expedient of refusing to face them, but when the following morning she returned to duty and entered Guy Brenton’s room, memory returned in an over whelming flood and it was only by exerting all the control at her command that she was able to meet him again face to face without giving any sign of her emotional upheaval. She had not had the courage to probe her innermost feelings and now she was paying for that temerity. In spite of all her defences she could no longer deny that Guy Brenton stirred within her some feeling deeper than mere admiration or friendship. The whole-hearted, blind devotion she had felt for Peter could never return, the past three years at St. Edwin’s had weaned her forever from the romantic dreams of her girlhood, but she had to admit to the quickened beat of her heart and that sense of pleasurable excitement which a mere smile from Guy Brenton could so readily evoke. It was fortunate that he, seated in his armchair and engrossed in the morning paper, was unaware of Felicity’s chaotic thoughts as with hands that were not quite steady, she made the bed and set about tidying the small room. With studied care she kept her face averted, fearful of betraying her discomfiture and exerting all her control not to rush from the room. Her fingers felt like thumbs and even screwing back the cap on a tube of toothpaste became a skilled operation and it was hardly surprising that in removing the blade from the razor it cut clean into her finger. The momentary pain brought her to her senses; tying her handkerchief tightly round the bleeding finger she took a determined grip on herself. This was quite ridiculous! She shook out a towel with vindictive force and folded it neatly on the rail. Peter might have become but a memory but that didn’t mean that she had or was ever likely to fall seriously in love again. She liked Guy Brenton immensely, she was quite prepared to admit that, but to imbue their relationship with any deeper emotion was utterly ridiculous. A deep sigh escaped her as she decided to put an end to these absurd daydreams, she couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to harbour even for a moment such romantic and unreal ideas.
“A very heartfelt sigh, Nurse, what is the trouble?” Guy Brenton queried, lowering his paper.
“Nothing—nothing at all.” Felicity stooped to retrieve the waste-paper basket from beneath the dressing-table. “I—I must have been dreaming,” she added with a certain degree of truth.
“What’s the matter with your finger?” he asked, catching sight of the unwieldy bandage. “Come here, show me what you have done.”
“Just a scratch—that’s all.” Felicity dropped the basket and with an instinctive action hid her hand behind her back. “I—I just caught it on the edge of the razor—there isn’t anything to be seen.”
“Come over here.” There was a ghost of a smile on Guy Brenton’s lips, but nevertheless his voice held a hint of command which Felicity had no course but to obey. She advanced with obvious reluctance feeling, as she held out her hand for his inspection, like a naughty child caught red-handed stealing the jam! “It’s quite deep, get me a dressing for it.”
“Really, it’s nothing,” Felicity protested, but as she attempted to turn back to her interrupted task his voice arrested her again.
“Do as I tell you—go on, hurry up,” he added as she made no move to go. “I’ll fetch it myself if you don’t.” The amusement in his voice minimized the threat, but Felicity, sensing the uselessness of further argument hastily went in search of the dressing tray.
“Put it down there where I can reach,” Despite the handicap of a useless arm, Guy Brenton, with Felicity’s help, cut a small strip of dressing and placed the bandage in readiness. “Here, give me your hand.” Again it was a somewhat difficult procedure but with her right hand available and his left, they managed a presentable job. “Well, how’s that?” Holding her injured hand he viewed it speculatively. “A somewhat amateurish appearance, but assuredly sterile!”
Uncomfortably aware of the close contact of his fingers on her wrist, she smiled her thanks. It seemed an interminable time before he released his hold, and when at last, her hand freed, she was able to turn away, it was with a feeling of infinite relief. It was quite absurd how that touch had caused the blood to pound in her veins, not only absurd but almost frightening, and the incident had not done anything towards calming her already chaotic thoughts.
“Don’t go for a moment, I want a word with you.” Arrested by his words, she paused in the doorway, tray in hand. “Put that down for a moment and come here, there is something I have to ask you.”
A numb sense of fear held her in grip as she obediently replaced the tray on the table and turned to her companion. What had he to ask? What question lay behind that impassive expression? Unconsciously her eyes turned towards the cupboard, he was walking alone now, he had demonstrated to Sister that morning how quickly he had found his feet. Had he remembered the ring, had he looked for it, had he missed it?
“What’s the matter? You look like a scared rabbit.” He stopped, then added with a touch of irritation, “It always annoys me the way you nurses behave as if I were some terrifying monster—you at least, so far, have spared me that, I can’t stand that cringing attitude.”
Relieved at least for the moment of her own particular fear, Felicity was stung to retort. “You ask for it, you terrify people out of their wits!”
“That’s not reasonable, apparently I hav
e never terrified you.”
“No,” she admitted a trifle doubtfully. “You haven’t, but then I just refused to allowed myself to be bullied.”
“So I bully, do I?”
The conversation had got far too personal for her liking, yet on the other hand it was in a most gratifying way leading away from the question of the ring, for that at least she was thankful. “I suppose that is scarcely the right word, but you hardly inspire confidence in a nervous probationer.”
“As you are neither nervous—nor a probationer—perhaps you will agree to my proposition?” His brown eyes held a quizzical expression and the smile which played around the corners of his lips, wrinkling the fine lines at his temples, entirely allayed Felicity’s fears. “I am, as you know, leaving here tomorrow; now I can get around on my feet there seems little reason to stay, I shall be far happier in my own home.” He paused but his eyes still held hers. “This plaster keeps me pretty helpless, but I can manage quite a lot for myself, but of course there are still the shoulder dressings. Would you be willing to return home with me for a few days just until I can get used to fending for myself?” No doubt aware that his suggestion had taken Felicity completely by surprise, he went on without awaiting her reply, “Matron suggested that you should accompany me on the journey; I don’t think there will be any difficulty in persuading her to allow you to remain in attendance for a few days.”
“I ... I... well, of course, if you would care for me to come and Matron agrees, then of course I shall be glad to do as you ask.” Felicity hoped her tone sounded calm and business-like. The suggestion had been so unexpected, she had been so completely unprepared that it was only with a supreme effort that she had managed to bite back the excited acceptance which had sprung to her lips and replace it with more formal words.
“That’s all right, then, I’ll settle the matter with Matron.” Before Felicity, feeling herself dismissed, had returned to the door, Guy Brenton was already hidden behind his paper. Scarcely conscious of her actions she replaced the dressings in the sterile cabinet and made her way to the ward kitchen to superintend the serving of dinners. The hot trolley, sent direct from the main kitchens, was ready awaiting her and with the help of the two junior nurses, she served each patient’s individual tray. It must have been more by luck than judgment that portions were correctly distributed, since her thoughts were far from the task in hand and she was filled with such a sense of elation that even the hard stone floor seemed like feather-down beneath her feet.
“Nurse Dene, how about potatoes for number four? You’ve given him carrots twice!”
It was hardly surprising, Felicity wondered that the carrots hadn’t been tripled! With an apologetic smile she rectified the mistake, then having finished the serving, she hurried off to her own meal. It was certainly the quickest dinner she had ever eaten and by the time she had escaped from the dining hall to the privacy of her own room, she couldn’t even recall what had been served on her plate! A full half-hour’s respite before she need return to the ward— she flung herself into the wicker arm-chair and let her eyes wander round the confines of the familiar room. The narrow bed which through the years had become so friendly, its fresh chintz cover which she had made herself. The well-filled bookshelves which she had bribed the hospital carpenter to put up for her, the pottery vase, a present from Diana that very first Christmas ... Felicity sighed. She loved her room, over the past years it had been the only home she had ever known. Still, how wonderful to leave it for a few days, to snatch, apart from her yearly leave, these few extra days away, to escape for a brief time the endless monotony of her work, to breathe into her lungs fresh country air. Joy filled her heart as, in her imagination, she visualized the countryside, the trees heavy with blossom, sweet smelling in the soft spring breeze, the earth still damp from winter’s rain, soft beneath her tread. Felicity’s pulse quickened as she tried to stifle a tiny voice of conscience. Was it only the prospect of escape causing this tide of exultation or was there some deeper unacknowledged reason?
She sprang to her feet and restlessly paced the small room. She passed her hand wearily across her forehead. Why should she torture herself, why seek any answers, what did it matter, she was happy, gloriously happy—a feeling akin to fear momentarily obsessed her, as she realized that although the past years had brought her contentment and peace it was the first time since Peter’s tragic death that she had ever experienced such complete and joyful anticipation of any break from her normal routine.
Crossing to the mirror, she removed her cap and brushed back the soft tendrils of her hair which gleamed with golden lights as they caught a shaft of sunlight through the uncurtained window. Replacing her brush on the table she leaned forward staring curiously at her reflected image, there was an expression of bewilderment in her eyes as if she expected to see a stranger framed in her mirror. Surely she must have changed, some expression of that inward emotion must be visible for all to see, she couldn’t still look the same as she had a few hours ago, that seemed impossible!” ‘Vanity of vanities, all is vanity...”
Diana’s laughing words caused Felicity to swing round from the mirror. “I didn’t hear you come in—I’m terribly glad to see you—come on, sit down, I’ve the most stupendous piece of news to tell you!” Felicity exclaimed with obvious excitement as she pulled her friend down on the bed beside her.
“I’ve only got a moment—so hurry up,” Diana begged with obvious impatience. “I must be in theatre by two so don’t waste time, come on, tell me quickly what’s it all about, you look like a cat that’s swallowed a dish of cream.”
“I feel like it too,” Felicity laughed. Then, as anxious to tell her story as Diana was to hear it, she went on without further delay. “Mr. Brenton has asked me to travel down to Buckinghamshire with him, probably to stay a day or so until he has settled in and, imagine it!—Matron has given permission!” She paused and watching her friend was not disappointed with the reception of her news, and before Diana could speak Felicity hastily went on, “At least Matron has agreed to my accompanying him on the journey, but he didn’t seem to think there would be any difficulty about getting her permission for me to stay.”
“My goodness! That is news!” Diana’s usually unperturbed demeanour had changed to an expression of awe, as if Felicity had herself wrought this miracle.
“It’s nothing to do with me, I should never have dared ask Matron, Mr. Brenton had apparently broached the subject before he even mentioned the matter to me.”
“It’s marvellous,” Diana breathed. “Just marvellous—of course you must be thrilled, it will be such a break from this dreary life, exciting too, fancy you actually visiting Guy Brenton’s home.”
“Oh, that’s beside the point.” Felicity thrust aside Diana’s last remark as of little account. “It’s the joy of spending a day or so in the country, think of it, at this time of year, it will be heavenly—too beautiful to describe,” she ended clasping her fingers together ecstatically.
“Rot,” Diana announced briefly. “You can’t pull that one on me!” she protested laughingly. “I know you hate London —lots of the girls do, but the majority would sooner face a London pea-souper than be forced to spend a couple of days in Guy Brenton s unadulterated company. You like him and for once Fate has been kind and played right into your hands! I think he has had a jolly good influence on you— made you appreciate that St. Edwin’s isn’t the alpha and omega of your existence. As long as you don’t go and fall in love with him, being human for once in a while won’t do you any harm.”
Felicity swung round from the table to face her friend, her colour had risen in her cheeks. “Fall in love indeed! I have never even dreamed of such a thing! My job is to get him well again, back to his work. I want the opportunity to do that, that’s why I’m glad of the chance to leave here with him.”
“O.K.—no need to get worked up about it.” Diana rose slowly to her feet and slipped an arm affectionately through her friend’s. “I’m awfully
glad you are going—I suppose that means tomorrow? Goodness, I’ll miss you. When are you going to pack, shall we have an orgy of it tonight, you’d better let me help, I suppose you’ll take mufti and you can’t let down the tone of St. Edwin’s.” She laughed, then added, “How about a celebration tonight too? I’ll get hold of Bill and Philip, I vote we four go out on a real binge.” She glanced at her watch. “Heavens! I must rush or I’ll have Sister on my tail! So long, I’ll pop over to Mason’s after tea and let you know what I’ve fixed up for the evening.”
The rest of that afternoon held a quality of unreality for Felicity. She seemed to be walking on air and time seemed to fly on wings. Even Diana’s message that both Philip and Bill were on duty that evening did nothing to lower her spirits. On the contrary she felt that a quiet evening with Diana would fit in far better with her exultant mood. Although there was a song on her lips she dared not even hum as she prepared Guy Brenton’s tea tray, it would definitely be beneath her dignity as a Staff Nurse to be found singing on duty by one of her juniors. Neatly placing the thin slices of bread and butter on to a plate she added it to the tray, then, picking it up, turned towards the door.
“Just a moment, Nurse—Nurse Jones can see to that, I’d like a word with you.” Sister’s bulky figure blocked the doorway. “Come along into my room.”
Felicity obediently set down the tray and followed Sister Robinson into her office; although she presented a quiet exterior she was aware of a deep sense of inward anxiety. Suppose something had gone wrong, could Matron have gone back on her word? Had Sister Robinson perhaps made some objection?
“I believe Mr. Brenton has told you that it’s been arranged for you to accompany him to his home.” A Sister’s statement was such a relief after her momentary doubts, that Felicity was sure that her reaction must have been obvious.
“It’s unusual, of course, Matron prefers to send one of our outdoor staff, but there, Mr. Brenton is a very special patient, so we mustn’t mind, must we?” she asked archly.
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