by Anne Douglas
‘I think you were!’ Isla cried, ‘You did your bit, Grant!’
‘That’s true, Doctor Revie,’ said Will, and Nan nodded in agreement, at which Isla’s spirits lightened. Surely her mother must be seeing Grant’s good points now!
A little later, with tea over, it was time for leave taking, with smiles, handshakes and thanks all round.
‘I’ve very much enjoyed meeting you, Mrs Scott – Mr Scott,’ Grant declared on the doorstep. ‘And I must thank you for a most delicious tea.’
‘Well, I want to thank you for the lovely flowers,’ said Nan. ‘They were much appreciated. Isla, you’ll see us when you can?’
‘That’s right, Ma. And thanks for everything. Sorry to leave you with the washing-up.’
‘Och, get on with you, there’s only a few tea things.’
There were last smiles and waves, and then Isla and Grant were walking back to the hydro, not speaking until they were in the High Street, not feeling, it seemed to Isla, quite at ease.
‘I think that went well, don’t you?’ Grant asked at last. ‘Your parents made me very welcome.’
‘It was sweet of you to give my mother the roses.’
‘My pleasure,’ he answered rather distractedly, and when Isla noticed he was beginning to look around at the passers-by, it came to her that this was the first time they had been in the town where they could be seen together.
‘You’re worrying if anyone’s around?’ she asked quickly. ‘Most will be at work.’
‘Might be somebody with time off.’
‘You want us to split up?’
‘Might be best.’ He gave an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry it has to be like this.’
‘I’ll go on first, then,’ she told him, not with coldness, rather just regret that things had to be the way they were. When would they be able to declare themselves, let the world know of their love? In the beginning, she herself hadn’t wanted others to know about her seeing Dr Revie, but now – well, now it was different. What they had was no longer casual; it had come to mean something, it was the real thing. Soon – she felt it deep in her heart – it must be admitted to everyone.
‘I’ll follow,’ Grant said quietly, and that was how they parted, returning to the hydro as though they had never been to tea at Meredith Street, as though all there could ever be between them was the formality between colleagues, when one colleague was officially superior to the other.
There must be a change, Isla decided, putting on her uniform. They couldn’t go on like this. Or could they?
Thirty-Six
For some days, Isla was on tenterhooks, waiting to find out what her parents thought of Grant, or, rather, what her mother thought. It was only at the end of the week that she managed to meet Nan at the café in the High Street and could finally, when they’d been served with their teapot and a plate of fancy cakes, ask the question that had been tormenting her since Sunday.
‘Well, Ma, what did you and Dad think of Grant? It was nice of him, eh, to bring you the roses?’
For some moments, Nan busied herself pouring the tea and passing the cake plate, while Isla looked on, slightly leaning forward, lips parted, grey eyes anxious.
‘The roses were very nice,’ Nan said at last. ‘What about a cake, then?’
‘I don’t want anything, thanks.’
‘No? I think I’ll have one o’ the Madeira buns.’
‘Ma, will you answer me?’ Isla asked in a furious whisper. ‘What’s all this playing about?’
‘I’m not wanting to upset you.’
‘Upset me?’ Isla sat back, a heavy sensation seeming to occupy her chest. ‘You mean, you didn’t like him?’
‘He’s very charming, knows what to say and all that, and I’m sure he’s a very good doctor, but he’s not for you, Isla.’
‘What do you mean, not for me?’
‘I mean, he’ll never marry you.’
Two red spots began to burn in Isla’s cheeks as she stared at her mother, whose grey eyes resolutely returned her gaze. Both then drank some tea, as though they had to, and Nan very deliberately began to eat her Madeira bun.
‘We’ve only been going out a few weeks, Ma; why should I be thinking about marriage?’ Isla asked, attempting calmness. ‘Not everyone’s like you and Dad, knowing what you wanted so soon.’
‘Every girl, when she starts going out with somebody and is keen like you, is thinking of marriage,’ Nan replied firmly. ‘I know you’ve got your nursing, but you won’t want to end up an old maid doing that, eh? You’ll want a home of your own and children, and you won’t get them without a husband. That’s all there is to it. It’s the way things are.’
‘Well, it shouldn’t be,’ Isla said sharply. ‘Women shouldn’t have to be so dependent on men. But what you seem to have forgotten, Ma, is that I’m not looking to Grant for what he can provide. I happen to … to care for him. In fact, I love him, and I think he loves me. Why shouldn’t he want to marry me, anyway?’
Nan sighed and poured more tea.
‘He’s very good-looking, eh? Very attractive to women. And the sort to want a girlfriend wherever he happens to be. How many’s he had, I wonder?’
‘I’ve never asked him,’ Isla answered coldly. ‘They’re in the past. I’m the one he wants now, and whatever you say, I’m not giving him up. You were all excited when I first told you about him – what’s gone wrong?’
‘We’ve met him,’ Nan answered simply. ‘I’m saying no more, except that if you keep on seeing him, it’ll all end in tears. Believe me, Isla, it will.’
In fact, tears were already filling Isla’s eyes, just as they had when she’d quarrelled with Boyd, and for the same reason, but she dashed them away and, rising, said she’d get the bill.
‘Got to go,’ she told her mother curtly outside the café. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be round.’
‘Oh, Isla, don’t say that, don’t say you won’t be coming round!’ Nan was near to tears herself. ‘I’ll be that upset – well, I’m upset now, canna bear to see you unhappy—’
‘I’m not saying I won’t be round, just don’t know when. Don’t worry about me, I’m all right.’
‘I wish I’d not said anything, but I had to, eh? I had to tell you what your dad and me believe?’
‘Goodbye, Ma. I’ve really got to go.’
After a quick peck at her mother’s cheek, Isla was on her way, her face set, her eyes still blurred with tears.
When she got back to the hydro, she knew she’d better wash her face to make it suitable to present to her little world, Grant included, and made such a successful job of it that no one noticed anything amiss.
Not even Grant, whose fine eyes sent their usual message when they met in the treatment rooms, and who contrived to pass her a quick note under cover of a patient’s chart.
How about the flicks next Wednesday? it read. See what you can do to meet me as usual.
Again, Isla’s world was filled with sunshine, and as she went about her duties, all her mother’s words of gloom faded from her mind.
Thirty-Seven
On a sultry afternoon in mid-August, Boyd was in his gymnasium, instructing a patient, Mr Newman, on the use of the dumb-bells to improve upper body muscles, when the door opened and a young woman came sauntering in.
‘Another customer?’ gasped Mr Newman, who was middle-aged, overweight and already sweating. ‘If you want to speak to her, I think I’ll just take a break, if you don’t mind.’
‘Certainly, Mr Newman, we never want anyone to be over-stretched,’ Boyd replied. ‘Take a seat and rest for a moment while I have a word with Miss Lorne.’
For he had recognized her, though in her white silk shirt and short summer skirt, she looked even more grown-up than he remembered, and she never had seemed like a school girl. Of course, she’d left ordinary school now, anyway, hadn’t she? Gone to some grand finishing place in Switzerland. What she was doing in his gymnasium, he couldn’t imagine, being certain she wasn’t i
nterested in exercise.
‘You know who I am?’ she asked, moving her green-eyed gaze from a survey of the gym to a survey of Boyd, while Mr Newman sat down, rubbing his face with a towel and gratefully sighing. ‘I didn’t think you would.’
‘Certainly, I know who you are, Miss Lorne,’ Boyd told her easily. ‘But what can I do for you?’
‘Oh, well, as you can see, I’m back, and as there’s so little to do here, I thought I might try out your gym – you know – get nice and fit?’ She laughed, showing her perfect teeth, and put back a lock of her dark hair from her brow.
‘That’s a very good idea, Miss Lorne. I’d recommend everyone to do that, no matter how they feel, or how young or old. You’d certainly be very welcome here.’
‘Lovely – when do I start?’
Boyd hesitated, glancing back to Mr Newman who was now happily reading a newspaper, before turning back, reassured, to Miss Lorne.
‘Our ladies’ sessions are three times a week on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, taken by Nurse Henley. Just come along to one of the sessions – they start at three.’
His gaze on her was encouraging, his smile welcoming, but Magda Lorne’s response was to raise her dark eyebrows and frown.
‘You mean it’s an all-women’s thing?’ she asked coldly. ‘And taken by a nurse? If you’re in charge of the gym, why aren’t you taking the class?’
‘I’m afraid it’s what the ladies prefer,’ Boyd answered, remembering having a similar conversation with Trina, who also hadn’t favoured the idea of a women’s-only class.
‘You mean it’s what my father thinks they’d prefer!’ Magda snapped. ‘Why, it’s absurd to separate men and women like that – I’m going to speak to him about it.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t, Miss Lorne. The system’s worked very well up till now, and I think we shouldn’t change it. I really think you’d enjoy the ladies’ class. Nurse Henley is very good and I’m always on hand – you know – to give advice and so on.’
Still frowning, and with her bright lips pursed in disapproval, Magda shrugged. ‘I’ll think about it, then, see how I feel.’
‘I hope you’ll decide to come along; you won’t regret it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to my client.’
After studying him for a moment, she turned to go, then with a sudden smile, put out her hand for him to shake.
‘Thank you, Mr Scott, you’ve been very kind – now I’ll let you get on.’
‘Hope we’ll see you here soon, Miss Lorne.’
At the door she seemed to hesitate – someone else was coming through – and when Boyd saw who it was, his heart leaped. For it was Trina, looking in as she often did when the patients’ lunches were over. Trina, whose large dark eyes were meeting the green eyes of Miss Lorne with no great pleasure. Trina, who, as Miss Lorne advanced and went out, the door swinging behind her, made straight for Boyd.
‘What was she doing here?’ she demanded. Boyd shook his head at her and gestured towards Mr Newman who was looking up with interest from his paper.
‘Ssh,’ murmured Boyd. ‘I have a patient here.’
‘Well, just tell me what Doctor Lorne’s daughter is doing here, Boyd. Only came back yesterday from abroad and she comes round to your gym? Don’t tell me she wants to use the dumb-bells!’
‘She does want to do some exercises here – I’ve told her about the women’s classes.’
‘And she’d be thrilled about them, eh? Och, you go and see to your chap – I’ll make some tea.’
Shrugging, Trina flounced away to Boyd’s office, while Mr Newman stood up and said apologetically that he was a wee bit tired, he’d missed his nap, might call it a day, if Mr Scott didn’t mind …
‘Not at all, Mr Newman, but please don’t think that I won’t want to instruct you because I have a visitor. It’s my job to help you and that’s what I want to do.’
‘No, no, that’s quite all right. I know you want to help, Mr Scott. I’ll come tomorrow – maybe a bit later – have my rest first.’ Mr Newman smiled. ‘Now you have your cup of tea with Miss Morris – everyone’s favourite waitress, you know!’
When they were alone, Boyd said he’d no time for tea, for now that the naps were over, more patients would be arriving at any moment. Even so, he did have time to kiss Trina before she said she might as well go.
‘Thought you might have got your sidekick in today and then we could’ve walked out somewhere,’ she remarked, staring moodily at Boyd. ‘But, of course, he’s not here.’
‘You know Larry’s not here every day – he has the saunas to look after. We can’t just go out when we want to.’
‘Lucky for Miss Lorne, eh? That she could find you on your own? I tell you, she’s got her eye on you, Boyd.’
‘That’s just a piece of nonsense, Trina. We’ve scarcely met. She’d be much more likely to be interested in somebody like Doctor Revie. He’s more her style.’
‘But he’s spoken for already,’ Trina said over her shoulder, as she moved out of the office. ‘Don’t try to deny it.’
‘What do you mean?’ Boyd asked quickly. ‘Who are you talking about?’
‘Why, your sister, of course! Now, don’t pretend to look surprised. I’ve seen the way they look at each other – oh, Boyd, what a giveaway!’
‘They don’t want anyone to know,’ Boyd said after a pause. ‘Not yet, anyhow. You won’t say anything, will you, Trina?’
‘Not if you promise never to entertain Miss Lorne in your gym again!’
Her eyes sparkling, Trina was teasing and he knew it, but as he walked with her to the door, Boyd was feeling curiously low in spirits. Something to do with Isla, he guessed, something to do with her vulnerability that she always refused to recognize. But then maybe she was right about Grant Revie. Trina certainly believed he was in love and she seemed to know.
‘See you tonight after we’ve cleared up?’ Trina whispered, when the first of Boyd’s expected clients for afternoon exercise came cheerfully into sight.
‘Sure,’ he whispered back, and Isla and her love affair melted from his mind.
Thirty-Eight
Isla was making herself an evening dress – sleeveless which was fashionable, but only ankle-length, nothing grand. Smart, though; made of dark blue taffeta with a pretty neckline, which she thought would suit her – should she ever get it finished. As she had to use her mother’s sewing machine, the time she could spend on it was short, but at least she’d made up with Ma and that had to be a good thing. Neither had wanted any coldness between them, and as Nan had taken care not to voice her views on Grant again, so far their truce had held.
The problem with the slow progress on the dress was that Grant might come up with an invitation to a dinner dance before it was ready, which would mean asking Ma to take a hand. She was a good needlewoman, had made the most of Isla’s clothes when she was young, and Isla would just have to hope that she wouldn’t mind getting involved with something intended for Grant Revie’s eyes. Although she’d said no more against him, it was clear enough that she’d be happier if Isla gave him up, but as that wasn’t going to happen, she’d probably just hold her tongue and hope for the best. Wasn’t that what Isla did, anyway?
As the days of August went by, though, it gradually dawned on Isla that she’d hardly seen Grant at all, even at work. Usually, there would be exchanged glances, smiles, notes passed under cover and definite dates arranged for meeting up. But just lately, it had been different; he always seemed to be disappearing into the distance, never had time to stop, and there’d been no special contact at all.
Strange, indeed. Although she was unwilling to speak to him about it, she began to feel she must. Especially when Sheana and Ellie kept asking where she was going next, and even Mark Kinnaird seemed to wonder what was planned, though he laughed when he asked and said it was no business of his.
‘I just take vicarious pleasure in hearing about people going places in real life, Isla, while I’m still cooped
up here,’ he told her. She was taking his temperature in his room one evening, and she’d been able to say that he was so much better again that he’d be going home soon.
‘Can’t wait! You mean I might be going to a good restaurant myself, or even to a play or something?’
‘Why not? You’re not a permanent invalid, Mark. You have a condition that flares up, but it’s better now.’
Isla smiled and, looking at the thermometer, waved it before Mark’s eyes. ‘You see? Normal!’
‘I’m so grateful,’ he said seriously. ‘For all the care I’ve had in here. Specially your care, Isla.’
For a moment, he touched her hand, then immediately let it go.
‘Tell me, how’s that dress going? Didn’t you say you were making a new one for dancing?’
‘It’s nearly finished.’ She smiled again, in spite of the brief pang his words had given her. ‘I think it will look all right.’
‘Wish I could see you in it.’
What could she say? It wasn’t at all likely he ever would. Glancing at her watch, she said she must fly and she’d see him in the morning. After she’d left him, though, she was overcome with a deep, strange sense of unease.
Some days ago, when she’d told Grant about the dress, she’d been quite happy, quite at ease, confident that she’d soon be wearing it to go dancing with him, or if that hadn’t been arranged, to go with him elsewhere. One of the restaurants he liked, or the theatre – or something, anyway …
And then, of course, they’d be finishing up in their own special country lane, exchanging their rapturous kisses and caresses. Oh, there’d been no problem then.
Well, was there a problem now? She couldn’t even be sure. Just because she hadn’t seen Grant to speak to, it didn’t mean he was avoiding her. He’d just been busy, and heaven knows, he was busy, with so many people with calls on his time, and meetings with Dr Lorne and Matron and all the rest of the routine at the hydro. Why should she be worrying?
