Nurse in Love

by Jane Arbor

  “Yes, but you didn’t hold it against me for too long?” How difficult all this was!

  “I didn’t hold it against you at all. How could I?” Her spirits lightened.

  “Then, whatever your disappointment, you weren’t still fretting over me after you went out to Africa?”

  “I hadn’t forgotten you, if that’s what you mean.”

  “But you wouldn’t claim that—that worry over me had helped to bring on your illness?” Her gloved fingers gripped hard upon the stone as she put the question.

  Steven turned to stare at her in surprise. “But of course not! You were right to refuse me if you didn’t love me. Kathryn, you haven’t been blaming yourself all this time?”

  Blaming herself! The unconscious irony of that curved her lips into a smile. But she was so relieved to know for certain that it had been Thelma, not Steven who had betrayed her with falsehoods that she could afford to be generous now.

  “Perhaps I had a little,” she said. “It’s good to know the truth.” She would not blame Thelma to Steven, nor would she admit to him that it was important to her that Adam Brand should learn the truth too.

  “Well, that’s true,” Steven was assuring her. “You shouldn’t ever have let yourself think otherwise.” They turned to walk on. After a moment he said: “By the way, Thelma has some fool idea of giving a party to celebrate my return. I’m against the whole thing, but if she insists on carrying it out, you’ll come, won’t you, Kathryn?”

  Kathryn was surprised. Surely even Thelma could understand that Steven, nervous and unsure of himself, should be allowed to slip back into routine, instead of being dragged into the limelight of a party given in his honour? But she believed that Thelma would have her way. It had always been like that—she would lay her plans, and sooner or later Steven would fall in with them.

  He repeated urgently: “You will come, won’t you? If you don’t promise, I swear I’ll not be there myself!”

  Adam Brand had not wanted her to seek Steven out. But how could she refuse to yield to an appeal like this when it mattered so much to him? She squared her shoulders and smiled up at him.

  “I’ll be there,” she promised.

  She duly received a formal invitation in Thelma’s writing, and found that her sense of humour was not above wishing she could have been invisibly present when Steven had probably had to insist that she should be asked. She waited to make sure that she could expect to be off duty on the evening in question, and then accepted with equal formality.

  She was due to go off duty at five leaving her staff nurse in full charge. By that time the afternoon’s important event—the visit of a specialist in tubercular diseases to a child who was isolated for observation—would be over, and Staff Nurse would be quite capable of carrying on.

  But the afternoon wore on, and no specialist arrived. Adam, who would be accompanying him on to the ward, telephoned to say that his car had broken down on the way from London and that he would be late.

  Staff Nurse fussed: “It would have to happen when you want to get off, Sister! Why do you suppose he couldn’t have hopped on to the Underground and have arrived in time?”

  Kathryn laughed. “When you’re as famous as Sir Brathwaite Lane you’ve probably lost the habit of using the Underground! There’s nothing for it—I shall have to wait.”

  “Well, I’d rather you did, Sister. I could manage, but—”

  “Dr. Brand would expect me to, anyway,” said Kathryn. “It’s just one of those things about nursing—it defies you to make plans!”

  Long overdue, the specialist came at last, and when he had seen the patient and had held a consultation with Adam, the time was nearer six-thirty than five. As soon as the two doctors had gone, Kathryn slipped away herself. She had promised Steven that she would be there at seven, and she still had to bath and change!

  She was hurrying across the main hall towards the nurses’ quarters when the big front door swung open and Adam, who had been seeing Sir Brathwaite Lane off, came in.

  He stepped into Kathryn’s path. “I’m sorry if Sir Brathwaite’s tardiness delayed you,” he said. “Carter mentioned that you would be going to their party this evening, and as I’m due there too, perhaps you’d permit me to give you a lift when you have changed?”

  “Please don’t trouble. It’s not far,” murmured Kathryn.

  “But shorter by car than on foot. If you’ll tell me how long you’ll need, I’ll have the car outside. Twenty minutes? Half an hour? Longer?”

  She promised to be ready in half an hour, and hurried away to her room. She found herself wanting to sing as she unpinned her cap, took off her uniform and flung aside the undies that were warm and sensible on the ward and so very dull for an “occasion”.

  And this was an occasion. Dressing for it with care, she longed to be able to believe that Adam would admire her a little. The silly, silly rapture of receiving even the smallest gesture of courtesy from someone you love! The absurd elation of it before its significance begins to fade and the eager, seeking heart begins to crave the little more—and then the little more again!

  But for to-night she could be content with what she had. Once she had had her shower, her fingers flew about the rest of her toilet. Her bag, her gloves... She had over-run her time by five minutes, and she must hurry. And only for a few more brief moments could she cherish the make believe that Adam Brand had done anything other than merely offer her a lift to their common destination!

  Thelma was greeting her guests as they arrived. As Kathryn entered, with Adam behind her, Thelma’s glance went to Adam and then back to Kathryn with a kind of insolent surprise. Steven came quickly forward to claim Kathryn, and the other two were left together.

  Alone with Adam, Thelma said: “Silly of me. I ought to have got Steven to call for Kathryn Clare.”

  Adam was taking a cigarette from the box she was handing him. As he lit it his eyes met hers above the flame.

  “I should have thought you would have deplored deliberately throwing them together,” he said. “And this party, for instance—was it wise in the circumstances? I can’t believe that Steven could really want it.”

  Thelma’s shoulders lifted in the merest shrug.

  “Steven in his present mood would have been content to slink back as if he were a criminal or a returning remittance-man,” she said distastefully. “I wanted to give people something to remember about his return. As for him and Kathryn Clare”—she looked across the room towards them—“you yourself said that you thought it unlikely he could go on being in love with her indefinitely, after the way she had treated him.”

  “I hadn’t seen and talked to Steven again then.”

  She waited for him to expand his meaning, but as he did not she went on: “Well, obviously they had to meet. And one really can’t go on being responsible for their affairs.”

  As the room began to fill up, Steven, as host, had to leave Kathryn in order to see that the newcomers had something to drink, someone to talk to. But as a good many of the guests were hospital personnel, she knew most people there, and she was never alone for long.

  She was amused most, however, by the dry comments upon cocktail parties made to her by a tall, grey-haired man whose name she had not caught.

  “A most curious social custom,” he said, sipping his sherry and looking about him. “We may have been upon our feet all day, but we come to stand for another hour or two without complaint; we drink, we exchange snippets of conversation with people we don’t know”—(Kathryn felt guilty at that!)—“or with people we see and even work with every day of our lives. If we’re lucky, we get a word or two with our hosts, but if we don’t, we don’t consider it very odd.” He fixed Kathryn through his monocle. “You young people certainly seem content with it, but I can’t for my life imagine what you get out of it.”

  Kathryn laughed, seeing his point, but wanting to defend her own generation. The difficulty was that she agreed with him too much—her earlier elation h
ad evaporated when she had seen how long Thelma and Adam had lingered in intimate talk and when she realised that her own chance of meeting him in these crowds was remote. But before she could frame a reply Steven was again at her side and her elderly companion had moved away.

  “And what do you think of our ‘lion’?” asked Steven, watching him go.

  Kathryn’s brow puckered. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch his name. Ought I to have known him?”

  “Sir Paul Denver, surgeon to royalty,” prompted Steven. “He was a friend of my father’s, and Thelma insisted on asking him. But I can’t imagine why he came, when he can’t have any interest in me. He probably took the measure of my ability long ago, when he transferred any patronage or influence he had to Brand, who worked under him at Dursington.”

  Steven’s tone was so bitter that Kathryn glanced at him quickly. But her loyalty to Adam sprang at once to his defence. She said hotly: “You haven’t any right to suggest that Dr. Brand achieved anything except through his own hard work and skill—”

  Steven looked surprised. “I didn’t mean that,” he protested. “Only that it couldn’t have taken Sir Paul Denver long to realise that if there were any help or build-up he could give a younger man, it was Adam who merited it, not me.”

  To gain time Kathryn laid a hand solicitously upon his arm. This was the first direct hint he had given of the “despairs” of which Adam had spoken.

  Steven looked down at her hand and said urgently: “Let’s get away for a few minutes. I can’t stand this racket much longer. Come with me—”

  The big room was L-shaped, and he led her to the far end of the longer arm of it, where behind a drawn curtain a couple of card-tables stood in the window embrasure.

  “We thought somebody might like to play bridge,” explained Steven. “But apparently not. We’ll be alone here. Sit down, Kathryn—please.”

  They sat—awkwardly—on two chairs that he turned outward from one of the tables. He leaned across, and before she could resist, had taken both her hands in his, imprisoning her while the urgent words humbled from his lips.

  “You’ve got to listen to me, Kathryn! You are the only person I can talk to. Thelma is impatient of me, and Brand I’ve hardly seen for years. But you—well, you didn’t understand how much I needed you before, and I’ve never blamed you for that. But now you must know how much you still mean to me. Now I’ve got to convince you that without you; without your love, I’m a complete and abject failure—”

  His head went down upon their linked hands and Kathryn, shocked and pitying thought she had never seen bowed shoulders express so much despair.

  Gently she withdrew one of her hands, laid it lightly upon his hair. “Poor Steven ” She checked at once upon a sound behind her—the swishing aside of the embrasure curtain as Adam Brand stood there, looking down at them.

  Steven did not look up, and no doubt Adam, given one second more in which to realise the extent of his intrusion, would have left them. But at the sight of him Kathryn knew a sudden choking panic. He must not think that she—that she and Steven! And utterly without regard for Steven or for what either man would think of her, she wrenched free of Steven’s hold, murmuring urgently: “Don’t follow me, please. I’m leaving, anyway. I’ll see Thelma ” She stumbled blindly past Adam, and was gone.

  Steven strode forward, only to meet Adam’s left arm across his chest, the hand gripping his shoulder.

  Adam said grimly: “You heard what she said.”

  “Yes, but she can’t mean it. She—” He stopped and turned upon Adam, his eyes blazing. “What are you doing here, anyway? Spying?”

  Adam took out his cigarette-case. “A bridge four was suggested, and I’m the vanguard,” he said evenly. “The others are following.”

  “Then I’m going—”

  “You needn’t hurry. They had just got fresh drinks and will be some time. Besides, I want to talk to you. Sit down.”

  Steven sat down.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Thelma was full of concern when Kathryn went to take leave of her. “Going already?” she queried. “That’s not very kind to Steven. He was so looking forward to your being here.”

  “I’ve just left him,” Kathryn told her. “Now he’s with Dr. Brand in your bridge room.”

  Thelma frowned. “Oh dear, I hope they’re not going to play, instead of mixing with people. Steven has his duties as host, and I’ve got dozens of people wanting to meet Adam. Can’t you really stay a little longer? If you will, I’ll tell Steven you’re staying, and if anything is likely to lure him from the bridge table, that is!”

  As she spoke, one of her more brilliant smiles had taken the place of her earlier frown. To Kathryn’s surprise, she seemed genuinely anxious that she should stay for Steven’s sake. Yet Kathryn had supposed that she had been asked to the party only on Steven’s insistence, and certainly, before Steven went abroad, Thelma had been at considerable pains to keep them apart.

  But Kathryn felt that nothing would induce her to see Steven again just then. She murmured: “I’m sorry, but I must go.” She held out her hand, which, however, Thelma did not take, subjecting her instead to a long, thoughtful glance.

  She said silkily: “You know, I really envy you—you’re able to be so sure of Steven, aren’t you? He’s come back fully as devoted to you as he was before, and after all, any girl might have caught him on the rebound. Men aren’t usually as faithful as that—”

  “It’s the last thing I wanted to happen,” returned Kathryn. “We parted good friends, and we could be the same on his return, I hoped.”

  “But you’re not going to turn him down a second time, surely? After all he’s been through! Why, he depends on you! I’m afraid that even I didn’t realise how much, but he does. If he hasn’t told you so already, I know he will. And this time, Kathryn, you must listen!”

  Kathryn shook her head. “I can’t do more for him than any other friend could.” She raised unflinching eyes to Thelma’s. “Before he went abroad you didn’t want me to do even that.”

  If Thelma was dismayed by the direct attack she made no sign. “Well, I was wrong,” she said. “I suppose I thought Steven was infatuated with you, instead of being really in love. And you know how close he and I have always been to each other—perhaps, even, I was a little jealous of you. But I’ve had time to think since, and I’ve outgrown all that. Now I want for Steven what he wants for himself. And he wants your love.”

  “But I don’t love him!”

  Thelma's eyes narrowed. “But there’s no need to tell him so, is there—at least, until he’s recovered more of his self-confidence? You could be kind—you could see him when he asks you. Is that too much to expect when you claim to be his friend?”

  “It wouldn’t be fair to him,” protested Kathryn.

  “Couldn’t you allow him to be the best judge of that? If you’re as heartwhole as you claim, it wouldn't hurt you to be a little kind to Steven. But you are so reluctant to do what you could for him that I really wonder whether you haven’t begun to cherish hopes elsewhere? If so, I’m sorry I said anything. Because it wouldn’t do, would it, to have Steven getting in the way?”

  Adam offered cigarettes, and Steven took one, drawing upon it feverishly. “I don’t know what you think you you’re doing,” he said.

  “I’m interfering. Let’s face it, I’m meddling in your affairs. Unforgivably, perhaps, but as you’ve allowed me to do from time to time since we left school. The difference is that on those occasions you invited my advice. Now I’m thrusting it on you—and more than advice, if I’ve the power to put it across. For pity’s sake, Steven, don’t be so abject as to allow that girl to make a fool of you all over again!”

  “I’ll dare you to repeat that! And what do you know about it?” demanded Steven.

  “All that Thelma told me. All that I’ve read for myself as to why you’re still wallowing in self-pity. I thought you’d pulled out long ago. I told Thelma so. I’m afraid that I couldn�
�t credit that, in returning to the Wardrop, you were willing to suffer all over again the same humiliation that Kathryn Clare put you to before.”

  There was a pause. Then Steven repeated slowly: “All that Thelma told you? What did she tell you? That she did everything she could to discourage me from asking Kathryn to marry me?”

  It was Adam’s turn to look surprised. “No not that. I don’t know that she indicated her own feelings, except the repulsion she felt for the treatment you’d received. She’s fond of you, Steven, and you’ve always let her influence you. It was natural that she should want to fight this battle for you too.”

  “And she fought it—but not in the way you think.”

  Steven’s tone was bitter. “Are you really telling me Thelma gave you to understand that Kathryn’s refusal of me was anything other than a piece of the utmost honesty?”

  “Thelma didn’t doubt the sincerity on your side, I know. But she did believe that Kathryn Clare had encouraged you to the point of proposal without the faintest notion of accepting you. And knowing what Thelma felt for you, I thought her judgment likely to be a lot less clouded than yours.”

  “And you’d trust it even before your own?” asked Steven.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’ve met Kathryn, haven’t you? You work with her, don’t you? Are you telling me that almost daily contact with her hasn’t taught you anything about her?” demanded Steven on a rising note of challenge.

  “Daily contact with her on the ward has taught me that she is a most efficient nurse,” said Adam carefully.

  “How very discerning of you! Come, don’t hedge, man! You know more of her than that.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Adam asked stiffly. “I’m afraid I can’t afford to let personal relationships intrude on my work.”

  Steven shook his head despairingly. “You’re still hedging, and I know why. You’re defending Thelma—and I suppose I know why about that too. And even if I could get you to admit to anything at all about Kathryn or about the utter quality of her, I couldn’t expect her to mean as much to you as to me. But this you shall believe: Thelma was completely and cruelly wrong about her—about us. When she refused me, it was for only one reason—that she didn’t love me enough. I hated the thought then; I hate it still. But neither you nor Thelma nor even Kathryn herself will be able to stop me from trying again!”