Nurse Angela Read online

  She dressed with care, choosing a green pleated skirt and a bright yellow sweater topped by a suede jacket that had a soft, velvety appearance. She was pleased with the effect.

  She was flushed and smiling as she ran down the stairs and out into the clear autumn morning where Simon sat at the wheel of his car waiting for her.

  “You look happy this morning,” he said as she climbed in beside him.

  She flashed a swift glance at him. He didn’t look very happy. Perhaps he was wishing Paulette were coming. At this thought, the joy she had felt at being with him died. She made no reply to his comment and the silence hung heavily between them as he drove through the streets and out of the town.

  Presently, she said, “It was good of you to wait for me.”

  “Not at all,” he answered stiffly. “It was the least I could do after Mrs. Lindsay’s kindness to my mother. They’re planning a day in the country. I hope it hasn’t interfered too much with your own plans.”

  “Oh no, I was going home today in any case,” she said, trying to keep the bleakness out of her voice at his formal politeness.

  True, their relationship had been rather strained since that night he had told Matron they were engaged, but really, she had been more upset by that than he had. And since then, Paulette had arrived on the scene and brought gladness to his eyes. Why then was he so cool, so morose? Surely their pseudo engagement was not worrying him?

  “I’m glad you were able to get away today,” she offered. “Suzette will be pleased.”

  “Yes.”

  “By the way, I hope you don’t feel it a liberty my calling your mother Suzette,” she went on in an effort to keep some kind of conversation going, “but she specially asked me to.”

  “In that case, why should I mind?” he answered noncommittally. “Mother calls her by her English name—Susan.”

  “Yes, so I noticed.”

  “I think I prefer it.”

  He did not answer and Angela gave up in despair. Simon drove in silence—a silence he much preferred to their stilted conversation. He had not wanted to come on this trip in the least, but the two older women had been set on it and particularly wanted him and Angela to be with them. He gave an inward, ironic smile. If those two were trying to do a little matchmaking, their efforts were doomed to failure.

  They were nearing their destination when Angela said, “Simon, couldn’t you and I, well, sink our differences for today? It’s my mother and Suzette I’m thinking of.”

  “I seem to remember most of the annoyance being on your part in the first place,” he said uncompromisingly. Then he looked at her downcast face. “All right, if it pleases you, we’ll call a truce.”

  Helen and Suzette received them with beaming smiles. “Well, have you two mothers decided where we’re going?” Simon asked.

  “I thought Monsal Dale. What do you think?”

  Angela said she would love it.

  “I’ve never been,” Simon said, “but I believe all the dales are lovely.”

  So they set off. Angela insisted on Suzette sitting in front with Simon while she and Helen took the back seats. The road took them past the part of the moor where Angela had walked on the previous day, and involuntarily, a wave of longing and hopelessness swept over her. She looked at the back of Simon’s fair head and felt she would never love any other man.

  As if aware of her thoughts he half turned his head.

  “All right at the back?”

  Helen answered. Angela could not trust herself to speak at that moment. Then to her discomfort, Suzette asked, “Was your friend Roger not able to come, Angela?”

  “He ... he thought it better if Simon came instead.”

  “Very sensible of him,” remarked Helen.

  After about an hour’s driving they reached Monsal Dale. Suzette gasped with delight at the lovely view spread before them. An exquisitely beautiful valley stretched below in the sun. To the right, a tiny bridge arched over the clear, running water of the river, cows grazed lazily in the fertile green meadow, and wooded hills rose in green and brown folds to the left and beyond. Entrancing wooded paths wound invitingly along the river and through the trees.

  “Oh, this is indeed England,” breathed Suzette ecstatically. “How could I have stayed away so long! There is nothing like this in the whole of France, or, for that matter, in the whole, wide world.”

  “Has it taken beautiful scenery to make you realize that there is another country besides France?” asked Simon bitterly.

  Angela glanced quickly at Suzette, but she seemed not to have heard Simon’s remark. What had come over him?

  Simon and Angela carried the picnic basket between them down the road that descended steeply to the green valley. Helen suggested that the two go by the footpath while she and Suzette carried the basket, but both Simon and Angela protested vigorously.

  “I wouldn’t dream of letting you two carry the basket,” Simon said. “And we couldn’t carry it down the path in comfort.”

  “Do you know, Susan,” Helen remarked as the two mothers dropped a little way behind. “I think our children are afraid of each other.”

  “Yes, I noticed that in Paris,” Suzette replied.

  “Oh? I thought you said they were happy with each other in Paris.”

  “They were in the end. But not at first. At least, not after the first evening or so.”

  “They almost seem to dislike each other now,” Helen said worriedly.

  Suzette laughed softly. “Don’t worry, Helen. They’ll sort themselves out, given time. Young folks always do.”

  Suzette was silent for a while. Then she said quietly, “Simon needs love. He’s had so little, even from me. I gave all I had to his father and since then—” She broke off, then went on, “I’ve failed him utterly in the past, I’m afraid. I can still give him a certain kind of love, of course—care and affection—which I will give him in the future if he will let me. But Simon needs a different kind of love now. He needs the love and understanding of a woman of his own age and generation.”

  “It may not be Angela,” Helen pointed out. “She’s very attached to Roger. And then, there’s Paulette.”

  “A mere boy and girl affair. As for Angela, I’m sure she’s not in love with this fellow, Roger.”

  “I sincerely hope she’s not in love with Simon if he isn't with her,” murmured Helen.

  They had their picnic lunch by the river. Afterward, Simon stretched out lazily on the grass enjoying the luxury of a day of leisure. Angela glanced at him as he lay with his eyes closed. She wondered wistfully at his thoughts.

  Unconsciously, an expression of tenderness crossed her face, and a look of understanding passed between the two older women.

  “Angela, why don’t you and Simon take a walk?” Helen suggested. “Suzette and I are too old for anything more than a gentle stroll. You’d soon leave us behind.”

  Simon opened his eyes in time to catch the quick frown that clouded Angela’s brow.

  “Angela would rather not,” he said flatly.

  Angela bit her lip. Then she smiled slightly and bent over him to whisper, “Truce—remember?”

  He looked at her and for a moment time seemed suspended as she caught his full gaze. Then he got to his feet abruptly and they strolled off in the direction of the wooded hills.

  “It certainly is a lovely spot,” Simon said presently, gazing all around at the graceful curves of the hills, the peaceful valley, the gently winding river.

  “Are you enjoying it?”

  “It would be difficult not to ... especially in the company of a beautiful woman like you,” he finished sardonically. He picked up a piece of stick and thrashed at the loose twigs and grass at their feet.

  She flushed. “I don’t want your compliments.”

  “I should have known you wouldn’t. But let’s not quarrel. This was to be a ‘truce.’”

  “You seem determined to quarrel.”

  “I never felt less like quarreli
ng with anyone in my life,” he retorted. “Now, for goodness’ sake, let’s talk of something else.”

  With a last effort to be lighthearted, she began softly, “‘The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things...’”

  “ ‘And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings.’ ” Suddenly they both laughed.

  “I wouldn’t have thought you knew that,” Angela said.

  “Oh yes. Lewis Carroll is translated into French, and I must confess that I have an English copy of Alice in Wonderland. I find it curiously relaxing to read at any time.”

  “Do you read a great deal, Simon?”

  “Yes. More than is good for me, I think. I ... don’t make friends very easily.”

  “Not in England, perhaps, but in France, you seemed more ... more...”

  She faltered, not quite sure how to put it. In France he seemed a different person altogether. Her heart gave a vicious twist and she searched her mind frantically for something trivial to say. But she felt she was treading on dangerous ground to mention France at all, apart from the fact that the subject was painful. He might think she was deliberately trying to remind him of their time there together, so she said no more, and he did not prompt her. They walked in silence for a while and presently, as the peace and beauty of the valley permeated her being, she turned to smile at him. But there was no answering smile on Simon’s lips, only a tightness of his mouth and a look in his eyes that she could not fathom at all.

  “Let’s get back to the two mothers,” he said. “I’ve had enough walking. Perhaps I’ll be in a better mood if we have a change of scene.”

  They had walked quite a distance, so that, by the time they made their way back through the woods and along the winding path by the river they had been away more than an hour. Simon noticed the pleased expression on the faces of Helen and Suzette.

  “Well, did you enjoy your walk?” Suzette asked, her glance going from one to the other.

  Angela smiled and said it had been delightful. Simon remarked that the scenery was beautiful, but wouldn’t they like to go somewhere else?

  “What about going on to Buxton? I believe there are some very nice gardens there where you can have tea.”

  “But I’ve brought stacks of food with us!” Helen protested.

  “We could have it for supper when we got back,” Simon said firmly.

  Suzette looked at him thoughtfully and with new understanding. “I think that would be a good idea, Helen. I’d love to go on to Buxton. I want to see as many places as possible while I’m here.”

  Angela was glad that no one tried to persuade her to sit in the front with Simon. She was slowly coming to feel that the more she was thrown into Simon’s company, the more he seemed to dislike her, and the only way to obtain any peace of mind for herself would be to go right away from Lockerfield for a while. She could quite easily get a job elsewhere.

  Suzette seemed to thoroughly enjoy every minute of the day. She kept up a constant chatter—exclaiming delightedly at the charming little villages they passed through in much the same way that Angela had on her visit to France. When at last they returned home, her eyes were sparkling and her small face was glowing.

  “Well, today settles it,” she announced dropping into a chair. She looked around at them all, resting her gaze on Simon. “I have decided to come back to England to live!”

  “Suzette, how wonderful!” exclaimed Angela.

  “I'm so glad,” Helen said smiling.

  Suzette looked at Simon, who made no comment. “Aren’t you pleased too, Simon?”

  He shrugged. “If you’re doing it to please me, Mother, I’m afraid you’ve left it too late. I have decided to return to Paris.”

  Utter dismay showed on the faces of the two older women. Helen protested gently, Suzette despairingly. Angela felt too sick to speak.

  “I’m sorry if that upsets anyone,” Simon said, “but I’ve just about had enough of England. Now that my father’s name has been cleared I shall be able to settle down in a practice in France peacefully, and I hope, happily.”

  “But I thought you were happily settled in England,” protested Suzette.

  “Then you were mistaken.”

  Suzette leaned forward. “Simon,” she said earnestly, “please think it over. I don’t mind saying this in front of Helen and Angela. In fact, I want them to hear, because it is largely due to them that I have come to realize the truth at last. What I want to say is that I’m truly sorry, Simon, for all the years I’ve neglected you, shut you out. I want you to know how bitterly I regret living so much in the past—my past and your father’s. It was terribly wrong of me and I can see that now. Surely, it’s not too late to make amends—to care a little for you, make a home here in England for us both.”

  Simon seemed to shrink farther back into the depths of his chair. “It is a little late for that, I’m afraid. Oh, I forgive you, if that’s what is worrying you, but as far as I’m concerned the past is dead, finished with. You come back to England to live, Mother, by all means if you want to, but it’s a little too late to want to make a home for me. At my age, a man wants a wife, not a mother. Surely you must realize that?”

  “Simon, of course, I do. Nothing would make me so happy as to know you were going to marry someone who could give you what I failed to give.”

  He stood up. “I’ll let you know the happy day, Mother. In the meantime, don’t worry about me in the least. Just make your own happiness. I hope to find mine where I was born.” He turned to Helen. “If you will excuse me, Mrs. Lindsay, I must go now. I want to be back at the hospital to do an early evening round. I promised Dr. Wilson that I would. Thank you very much for the day and for your hospitality.” His hand rested briefly on Suzette’s shoulder. “Good night, Mother. Don’t have me on your conscience; there’s nothing at all to forgive.” He turned his glance momentarily on Angela. “You will be returning to the hospital tomorrow, I suppose?”

  She nodded dumbly, and he went out, Helen accompanying him to the front door. After a moment the sound of his car starting up could be heard, and Helen came back into the room.

  “Well!” she said expressively.

  Suzette shrugged her small shoulders. “I just don’t know what to make of him, Helen.”

  Angela got up from her chair. “I think, if you don’t mind, I’ll go to my room for a while. I don’t feel like talking at the moment. It’s been a rather tiring day.”

  Without waiting for a reply she went to her room and sat at her dressing table staring at her reflection in the mirror. She had known this would happen sooner or later, of course, but... A wave of misery and hopelessness flooded over her, and unable to stem the flow of tears any longer, she buried her head in her arms and wept bitterly. He was going right out of her life altogether. He was going to find happiness and a wife in his own country. What more did one need than that? At last, the truth had been forced upon her.

  Great sobs shook her, and such was her grief that she no longer cared whether anyone could hear her or not. She was beyond caring what either her mother or Suzette would think.

  There was no need for explanation, however, when, unable to bear the sound of her daughter’s weeping any longer, Helen came into the room to put a comforting arm around her shoulders. Utterly spent, Angela raised her eyes and made a hopeless gesture.

  “What can I do, Mother?”

  “My dear,” she said gently. “Why not wash your face and put on your dressing gown and come and talk to Susan and me? We both understand so well what you’re going through, and you can rely on Susan not to divulge anything to Simon.”

  Angela dried her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mother, giving way like this. Perhaps it would be good if I could talk about it.”

  “Angela, my dear... ” Suzette rose from her chair as Angela entered the sitting room.

  Angela smiled ruefully as she sat in one of the comfortable chairs and took the cup of tea Helen offered her. “I have given myself away, haven’t I?
”

  “So has Simon,” Suzette said quietly.

  “Only too well.”

  Suzette shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a couple as blind as you and Simon.”

  Angela stared at her. “What do you mean, Suzette? I think Simon has made himself plain enough.”

  “Listen to me, Angela. Simon is running away ... and he is running away from you!”

  “Suzette, how can you say that?”

  Suzette smiled. “Think it over, my dear. Just think it over.”

  “I’ve thought about everything until my brain is reeling. It’s no use. It’s much better that I try to forget Simon.”

  “Easier said than done, you know that.”

  “Darling, didn’t you tell me that you and Simon had what you called a little romantic episode in Paris?” asked Helen.

  “It was more than that to me, but to Simon it meant nothing and he has regretted it ever since.”

  “But don’t you see? He thinks you’re in love with Roger.”

  Angela stood up suddenly. “And do you know, Simon may be right after all,” she said.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Angela stepped off the bus at Lockerfield and stood for a moment in indecision. It was just lunchtime and she could reach the hospital within ten minutes. The restaurants in town would be crowded with shoppers. Still, she had no desire to face the rest of the sisters in the dining room at the moment with their questions about her so-called engagement to Simon. She turned her steps in the direction of Knifesmith’s Gate. She would go to the Salad Bowl.

  How long, she wondered, did Simon intend keeping up the face? Still it could not be for long, in any case. He was returning to France. Last night, in spite of her words of bravado, she had tossed and turned thinking over all that Suzette and her mother had said. She had told them that Simon might be right about her being in love with Roger partly as a defense as well as bravado.