Nurse Angela Page 4

  “Eh?” he exclaimed in a startled voice. He brought the car to a stop and looked at her. “Did I hear you say you were thinking of going to Paris for a fortnight?”

  “Yes. Why not? Don’t look so surprised.”

  “But of course I’m surprised, your throwing out a piece of news like that. Have you been before?”

  “No.”

  “Who are you going with? You can’t possibly go alone.”

  “Of course I can, and I am,” she told him laughing. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

  He sighed. “I’m just plain envious, I suppose. I’d love to be going with you, but unless a miracle happens it’s out of the question. Paris is a wonderful city, you’ll love it. I spent two years there as a student. I’ll give you the address of the student’s hotel in the Latin Quarter. It’s quite comfortable. I can’t say I like the idea of your going alone though. Paris can be awfully lonely, especially at night—wonderful with the right person, of course. I’d give anything to be able to go with you.”

  He started the car again and they grew silent. Roger was an odd mixture at times, Angela thought. Unconventional and casual over so many things, yet so concerned about her going to Paris alone. Why was it out of the question for him to go? Lack of money? She scarcely thought about his odd proposal of marriage. He had been joking, of course, though there were times when one did not know when Roger was joking and when he was serious. She was fond of Roger, but not in love with him ... yet.

  It was almost lunchtime when they drew up outside her mother’s bungalow. The front garden was a riot of spring flowers: tulips in every conceivable color—these were her mother’s special pride—sweet-smelling wallflowers, or gillivers as her mother called them, and a border flanked with yellow and varicolored polyanthus.

  “Isn’t it a picture?” asked Angela proudly. “She does it all herself. You’re coming in, aren’t you? She’ll be very pleased to see you.”

  “Just for a moment. Then I’ll push off to visit my folks. I can call back for you any time you say.”

  They found Helen Lindsay at the back of the house sitting in the sunny lounge by the French window. Her face lit up when she saw them.

  “Angela darling ... and Roger. How lovely to see you both.”

  “How are you, Mrs. Lindsay?” asked Roger.

  “Just fine, this lovely weather, Roger. Will you stay to lunch, or are your people expecting you?”

  “That’s kind of you, Mrs. Lindsay. I’m not really expected at home, but all the same, I wouldn’t like to put you to extra trouble.” “No trouble at all. The roast is almost cooked, and the vegetables are prepared.”

  “Roger is a good cook, too, Mother,” Angela said when they sat down to lunch.

  “Are you?” Helen said, turning to Roger. “I wouldn’t care to have a man busying himself in my kitchen.”

  Angela laughed. “There you are, Roger. Mother, at any rate, doesn’t approve.”

  Roger told her why he and Peter had turned to cooking. She deplored the idea of two young men fending for themselves and was quite convinced that they were half-starved.

  After lunch Roger went to see his own parents who lived nearby, promising to return presently to take Helen for a short drive.

  “What a nice person Roger has become,” Helen said when they were alone. “Though I can’t say I like that beard of his. Do you see a lot of him, my dear?”

  “A fair amount these days. He is rather sweet.”

  “You’re fond of him?”

  Angela smiled. “Yes. But nothing more ... yet.”

  Her mother was silent for a minute; then she said quietly, “My dear, you will be sure, won’t you?”

  “Yes, Mother, I will,” Angela assured her. She went on to talk about her proposed trip to Paris. “Would you come with me, Mother?”

  Helen Lindsay shook her head. “No, darling, I’d rather not. I went once with your father. It would bring back too many memories. Perhaps you can get one of the other sisters to go with you.”

  “Perhaps.” Better not mention the fact yet that she was thinking of going alone.

  “What gave you the idea?” her mother asked. “I’ve never heard you express any particular desire to travel.”

  Angela smiled. Two weeks’ holiday in Paris could scarcely be called “travel.”

  “Indirectly, it was Dr. LeFeure who gave me the idea. He’s half-French, so they say.”

  “Dr. LeFeure? Oh yes, of course. Does he talk much about his life in France or mention going back there?”

  “No, he talks very little about himself. He’s ... very reserved and difficult to understand at times.”

  She fell silent and her mother watched her thoughtfully. This lovely, warm-hearted daughter of hers had so much to give. She would love wholeheartedly, and people with a great capacity for loving were often very badly hurt. Helen prayed fervently that her beloved Angela would meet a man who would give her that kind of love in return—the kind that gave all without reserve.

  After bringing Helen back home in time for church, Roger and Angela set off on a roundabout route back to Lockerfield.

  When, much later, they reached the hospital, Roger slipped an arm around her in the darkness.

  “It’s been a wonderful day, darling,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. “Do you know what I’d like to do? Kidnap you, take you to my lair and never let you go.” He kissed her smooth cheek. “You know, darling, I’m getting into quite a state about you. I’ll have to do some serious thinking.”

  She laughed softly. “In the still, small hours?” She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. “I must go now, my dear. Thank you for a lovely day.”

  He got out and opened the car door for her. “When am I going to see you again?”

  “In the morning, if you like,” she said as she stepped out of the car.

  “I do like. Come for coffee and stay for lunch.”

  “All right, but I must get back for a little sleep before going on duty.”

  “Of course. I’ll see to it that you’re back for that. Good night, darling, and thank you for a lovely day.”

  He kissed her hard and suddenly on the lips, then released her. And as she watched him drive away, Angela saw Simon LeFeure entering the hospital for his usual night visit. She felt disquieted that he might have witnessed Roger’s embrace.

  It was rather odd that, after that evening, Roger reverted to his old casual friendliness with nothing more than a gentle squeeze of the hand on parting and a quick kiss that could not possibly mean anything. Angela was relieved by this change. At the moment she did not want marriage; she was far too interested in her job. Roger was a dear and the idea of marrying him one day was not by any means an unpleasant speculation, but not yet. Some day perhaps if he should ask her seriously...

  She was so engrossed in her work and her patients that it almost came as a shock that there remained only three weeks to her holiday. The realization was brought upon her by a casual query from Simon LeFeure.

  “When are you taking your holiday, Sister?”

  This was the first personal question she had received from him since the night he had asked her out and had taken her opening remark as a blank refusal. Since that evening he had been more cool with her than ever. He had shown no desire to linger for any conversation and had certainly not asked her out again. She had ceased even to think very much about that item of news passed on by Peter. His question now brought her up with a jerk. She glanced at the calendar.

  “Good gracious, it’s in three weeks’ time.”

  His interest quickened. “August the twelfth? Why, so is mine. Where are you going?”

  She was conscious of sudden embarrassment. “I don’t know. I had thought of going to Paris, but...” It would be too late now of course.

  He looked quite startled for a moment. Then a slow smile crossed his face, a smile that transformed his features and made Angela’s heart give a sudden little leap.

  “What an extraordina
ry coincidence,” he said slowly. “That’s just where I’m going. But of course, I was born there. How are you traveling?”

  “Well, this may seem silly, but I haven’t worked out the details. I expect it will be too late now, though I have an address in Paris and I’m told there is always room in the holiday season. It’s the student hotel in the Latin Quarter.”

  “Oh yes, I know it quite well. It’s in Rue St. Jacques. You’ll have no difficulty there. Most of the students will be away on holiday, so the place will be almost empty.”

  “Yes, Roger said the same.”

  “Is he not going with you?”

  “Oh no, I’m going alone ... if I do go, that is.”

  “I’m flying,” he said, “but I’m renting a car in Calais to drive to Paris. If you can manage to book a seat on any plane the same day, would you care to drive down with me?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Angela gave a gasp of surprise. “Dr. LeFeure, that’s awfully kind of you, but—”

  A shadow crossed his face. “But again? Is the idea of my company so very unattractive or is there someone—Roger perhaps—who would object?”

  “Of course not. I just want to be sure that you’re not asking me merely out of politeness. The wrong company can be very tiresome on a long journey. And in case you’re tempted to misunderstand that statement, I meant myself as the possible tiresome one.” She felt an entire disregard for hospital etiquette. He laughed and she was almost startled at the sound.

  “Well, that’s one thing clear,” he said. “As for my asking you out of politeness, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. Actually, if you can stand my company you’ll be doing me a favor. I hate traveling long distances alone.”

  “In that case, Doctor, I shall be very glad to accept your invitation, that is, if I can book a seat at this late hour.”

  “Would you like me to get in touch with the airline for you? I might be able to pull a string or two. You simply must come now.”

  She smiled. “You’re making things very easy for me.”

  “If I can do that, I will with pleasure. It will merely be your just reward for all you do for the people here.”

  Knowing how much in advance holidays were usually arranged these days, Angela did not expect Simon to be able to get a seat at all, still less on the same day. But he surprised her by getting her a seat on the very same plane as himself.

  “How on earth did you manage it?” she asked.

  “The usual thing,” he told her. “Someone had canceled a booking. The cancellation had not actually been on the same plane, of course, but the booking clerk fixed that for me. It simply meant transferring someone else to a later plane. Don’t worry,” he said as he caught sight of a tiny frown on her forehead, “it wasn’t anyone with an important appointment.”

  Angela could scarcely believe this was happening—suddenly to be several days in Simon LeFeure’s company. Of course, it was largely coincidence she told herself. It was natural enough that he should be going to France and, of course, natural that he should offer her a drive when he knew she was going. He would no doubt have made the same offer to anyone. All the same, she could not suppress a lift of her heart at the thought of the journey.

  When she told Roger of Simon’s invitation, he was astounded, startled and outraged all at the same time.

  “What!” he cried in an alarming falsetto. “You mean to tell me he’s inveigled you into going to Paris with him?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she laughed. “I’m not ‘going to Paris with him.’ He’s merely giving me a lift to the airport.”

  “Hm,” he snorted. “And then to Paris. And of course, you can bet your life on both journeys back. I tell you, he’s nothing less than a wolf.” He glared at her, but well used, by now, to these violent reactions of Roger’s, Angela merely smiled in return.

  He fumed in silence for a minute, then said with a slight smile. “I’m as jealous as hell, Angela. I wish I’d carried you off that night or asked you to marry me properly or ... or something,” he finished lamely.

  Suddenly, he got up, pulled a footstool close to her chair and sat down taking her hand in his.

  “Darling, this is serious, really serious. I’ve wanted to ask you, but didn’t feel I had enough to offer you. Will you consider marrying me, Angela? Will you?”

  “Why, Roger...” His eyes were more serious than she had ever seen them and in their depths...

  “I love you, Angela. Did I have to tell you?”

  “Roger,” she whispered. “I—” A strange emotion robbed her of words. Dear, light-hearted Roger, really loved her. Even though at one time she had suspected it, it still seemed incredible. Her eyes softened. Impulsively, she touched his cheek.

  “Will you?” he asked again.

  “Roger, I hardly know what to say. I think your feelings have grown ahead of mine. I’m very fond of you, Roger. In fact, my affection for you increases every day, but I don’t know whether it’s strong enough yet for marriage.”

  She gazed at him anxiously. She did not want to hurt him. He smiled ruefully and patted her hand. “All right, darling. I’ll just have to keep on asking you, that’s all, and keep my fingers crossed while you’re away.”

  “Roger,” she protested laughing. “What on earth are you driving at? Dr. LeFeure and I will probably be bored to death with each other. At best, I expect we’ll talk shop.”

  Paris! Angela’s excitement grew as the days flew quickly by. She flung herself into a flurry of shopping and sewing, planning and replanning what clothes to take and what not to take. The weather was fine and warm and according to the prophets was likely to remain so for a week or two. So, for traveling in Simon’s car, she chose a light, uncrushable dress in navy and white Egyptian cotton and a short coat in white cuddle cloth in case it turned chilly in the evenings. To wear with the dress, she bought the tiniest of navy blue hats in light straw, which would set off her light blond hair, and a pair of comfortable navy sandals and handbag to match. It was a color that would not quickly show the dust and dirt of travel. For sightseeing in Paris, she made—with the help of her mother—two suits of heavy shantung in matching designs and colors so that they could be interchangeable and two cocktail dresses, one of fine wool, the other of soft chiffon. She pondered for a long time as to whether or not she would really need an evening gown, and in spite of the very remote possibility of anyone inviting her to a ball or some other formal evening, she decided to make one in layers of nylon net. Simple to make, but beautifully effective and easy to pack.

  When, inevitably, the rest of the ward sisters learned she was going to Paris, Angela was treated to a good deal of teasing. In vain, she protested that she was going alone. For Simon’s sake, she made no mention of his offer of a lift, and indeed no one even seemed to be aware that he was taking his holiday at that time.

  It was not until her last night of duty before her holiday that Matron said; “I consider it very regrettable indeed that Dr. LeFeure is going to be away at the same time as you, Sister. Of course I know that Dr. Wilson is reliable, but with a relief sister on night duty too ... I must say it’s most inconsiderate of Dr. LeFeure. He kept very quiet about it too ... or he made up his mind suddenly. I would have asked you to change your date had I known sooner. It’s too late to do anything about it now, however, what with all the shuffling around it would mean. In any case, I’m told you’re going abroad, so I expect you have everything arranged.”

  “Yes, Matron, I have.”

  “Oh well, I suppose we’ll have to make the best of it. None of the night nurses are on holiday, that’s one consolation. Good night, Sister.”

  Simon was not on duty that evening, his place being taken by Dr. Wilson who spent half his time at Kirkwhite and the other half at the General. He knew most of the patients at Kirkwhite so that, actually, Matron’s anxieties were groundless.

  “Old fusspot,” Tony Wilson said disrespectfully. “Simon told me months ago what date he was going away, and af
ter all, it concerns me most. I’ve got his work to do. I don’t blame him for not broadcasting his comings and goings. He’s going to Paris—so are you. What a time the gossips would have if they knew.”

  Angela gave an amused smile. “Do you know?”

  “Know what?” he asked in a hoarse stage whisper.

  “That we’re traveling to Paris together.”

  “No. Are you?” He rubbed his hands. “My, that’s a tasty piece of scandal if you like. That would make the place hum.”

  “Oh, don’t exaggerate, and don’t you dare say a word,” she threatened. “You’re the only one in the hospital who knows.”

  “What a pity. It would have been fun. Seriously, though, I hope you thoroughly enjoy yourselves. I’m all for people just doing what they want without being afraid of what people will say. I think gossip should be counted as one of the seven deadly sins—it’s nearly always spiteful. No matter how unblemished someone’s character may be, a trip like this would soon become an affair of the worst kind by the time the gossips were through.”

  “I suppose so. But good heavens, you have me worried now. Put so baldly, we do seem to be laying ourselves open to criticism.”

  Tony laughed. “Nonsense. I wouldn’t worry if I were you. If you haven’t told anyone, I don’t see how they can ever know.”

  “I hate having anything to hide.”

  He flashed her a quick look. “You don’t have anything to hide, do you?”

  “Not, not really, but—”

  “Well then. You’re wise to keep this to yourselves. If you know from experience that people put a wrong construction on things, the only thing to do is not to tell them anything. They’re not fit to know the truth if they will throw mud. You and Simon have a good time and enjoy each other’s company. You’ll probably find you have a lot in common.”