Guardian Nurse (15 page)

A moment was gone.

Several days later, Scott released from Mirramunna Hospital for an agreed interval from duty, Burn West’s station business in order and nothing to demand his immediate or future attention, the party left for Sydney.

There were two men, two women, one little boy:
Scott, Burn, Mrs. Campbell
... ‘Can’t go anywhere without you, can I, Mrs. C.?’ Burn said affectionately ... Frances and Jason.

The big car was more than ample. Once more Frances sat in the back with Jason and the other three shared the front seat.
Burn
drove. They did not dally this time, take sidetracks to see the capital, skim up the coast. Burn got on the Highway and stayed there. He drove safely, steadily, but kept his foot well down on the accelerator. They made Sydney in very good time.

Burn drove immediately to the city apartment, telling the others as he let them off to follow Mrs. Campbell while he garaged the car.

At West of the River Mrs. Campbell was officially the housekeeper, but she never cooked, and now Frances, thinking this city arrangement could be an imposition to the older woman, came forward with an offer to help.

‘Thank you, dear, but actually I enjoy doing it. I did it for Burn’s parents. But I was much younger then and numbers didn’t dismay me. I wasn’t at all reluctant I can tell you when
Burn
suggested when he started West of the River that I leave the cooking to Cook.’

‘I wouldn’t have had I shown any sense.’ Burn must evidently have handed the big car over to an attendant, for he was only one lift behind them. Taking the key from Mrs. Campbell and opening up the apartment, he said regretfully, ‘I’ve never enjoyed a steak and kidney pud since.’

‘He was always one for the savoury things,’ smiled Mrs. Campbell, ‘but Gareth, he liked the sweets.’

There
w
as a little silence that could have been put down to the action of their entry .
.
. only Frances felt a tension somewhere, not in Mrs. Campbell who seemed in a reminiscing mood, but
Burn
. Burn never spoke about his brother, she thought. She wondered why.

‘Same room,’ Burn West was nodding to Frances, ‘or at least same compartment. How do city folk breathe cooped up like this? This way, Doc,’ he nodded next to Scott.

Jason had already sett
l
ed himself by the window to look down on the traffic, so while he occupied himself tallying the different makes of cars, a favourite pastime, she recalled, Frances unpacked his bag, then hung up her own things.

Mrs. Campbell had made tea and while they drank it
Burn
announced that there were no appointments for Jason until the next day. Without looking up from his cup he added, ‘I have some papers to go through tonight, so I’ll be on hand for the sonno. You ladies are free.’

‘And gentleman,’ reminded Mrs. Campbell.

‘Doctor Muir is always free,’ Burn said gratefully. ‘He’s doing me a very great favour being here, seeing he’s not employed by me. No, I meant you ladies, as I said. Mrs. C., I know, will be hot-footing it out to see her sister.’ A fond little smile in the housekeeper’s direction. ‘But, Nurse ...’ Now he shrugged. He never called her Nurse, and Frances stared at him. ‘No doubt,’ he continued, still not looking up, ‘our medical staff will want to visit old stamping grounds. The same grounds,
I
believe?’ Now he did flick a quick glance.

Evidently Scott had confided this to Burn, for the doctor answered pleasantly, ‘The same.’ He looked across at Frances.

Two
pairs of eyes looked at her .
..
perhaps Mrs. Campbell was looking as well, but Frances did not know. She was trying to sort out her thoughts. Firstly, why Burn West was politely taunting her like this and why it should matter, and secondly, and rather dismayingly, why the prospect of visiting ‘old stamping grounds’, as
Burn
had put it, did not attract, did not even interest her. And yet, she thought a little hollowly, I loved Scott. At least ... restlessly ... to me it was love. Had it been love to Scott, too? It hadn’t seemed so when he had left her so abruptly like that, but meeting him again at Mirramunna had given her no doubt of the pleasure it had given him. That should have given
her
pleasure. But had it? Putting down her cup, she joined Jason at the window.

They sat there till evening, having a competition between them, then, without looking up to check, Frances knew that Burn had joined them.

‘I’ll take over,’ he said.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It’s an order, Miss Peters. I like to see my employees utilise their free time so that they’ll give better service in their working time.’

‘It still doesn’t matter. I’m not going out.’

‘Does Doctor Muir know that?’

‘Where does he come in?’ she asked.

‘From what he’s told me he came in a long time ago,’
Burn
West drawled. ‘I will say this about our medico, he’s never tried to draw a curtain.’

‘Meaning I have?’

‘Well, haven’t you?’

‘I’ve told you before that when I came to Mirramunna I had no idea that Scott was the doctor.’

‘I believe that.’ A pause. ‘It also tallies with his account. However, just now you asked a question that I would like to ask of
you.
It was: “Where does he come in?”
Where does he,
Nurse
?’

‘Aren’t you overdoing your employer-employee relationship, Mr. West? I was signed on to serve, I believe, not confide. Especially
—
’

‘Especially?’

But she could not say it. She could not say ‘Especially confide to Jason’s father. To a married man.’

‘There was nothing,’ she said a little wearily instead. ‘There is nothing.’

‘Past and present
... But the future? Go and change, Nurse, the doctor is almost ready.’

What she would have replied to that was prevented by Scott’s appearance at the door. ‘That’s right, Fran,’ he called. ‘I give you ten minutes.’

‘If she’s early you’ll know she’s eager, if she’s late you’ll know she’s taking pains.’

‘And if I’m exactly ten minutes?’ asked Frances shortly, feeling more exasperated with this man than she had ever felt, and she had often been infuriated by him.

‘You tell Muir,’ he smiled smoothly and maddeningly. ‘Enjoy yourselves! Now, Jason, the first to count to ten Holdens is the winner.’

It was no use trying to get a word back. Anyhow, what kind of words could she use? Frances hurried to her room, changed quickly and uncaringly, etched in more lipstick, ran a comb through her hair and came back to where Scott still waited beside the pair at the window.

‘Five,’ said
Burn
West clearly and admiringly.

‘You are not so!’ protested Jason indignantly, ‘you’re only up to three,
Burn
.’

‘Five
minutes,’
said
Burn
.

Scott joined Frances at the door and together they left the apartment.
Out in the busy, fast darkling city street they turned instinctively in the direction of a little park in which they often had sat on their mutual days off.—So we still do things together, thought Frances. But Scott spoke the thought aloud.

‘You’d think there had been no year between,’ he smiled, but his eyes were searching hers.

She could have wondered at her impression of probing had she not been filled up with her own doubts. What was it Burn had said? Doubts, sub
tlies, inn
uendoes.

She felt Scott’s fingers under her arm as he piloted her across the street to the bench they had always thought of as theirs. It was empty and they sat down. There was a little silence that Scott broke.

‘Do you want to go out to the hospital, Fran?’

‘No.’—No, she didn’t. When her mother had died ... and Scott had left ... she had put the infirmary days behind her.

‘I don’t, either. They were fine times, but ... well, they’re gone.’

Another silence. Again Scott breaking it.

‘I’ve wanted to talk, Fran, but now that I can ... well, I just don’t know how and where to begin.’

Suddenly Frances heard herself saying, ‘Do you have to, Scott? Do we have to?’

‘You mean—just go on from where we left off?’ He was looking at her in that probing way again.

‘I don’t mean that at all.’ All at once everything was quite
cl
ear to Frances. Scott was
cl
ear. Her own thoughts were.

‘Where we left off,’ she said quietly, certainly, ‘was nowhere at all. I think I’ve been sensing that for quite a while now, Scott. I know this: there’s no regret in me, no hurt. And I also sense this: there’s none in you.’ She looked directly at him.

He looked as directly back, then slowly, with vast relief, he smiled.

‘Oh, Fran girl, if you only knew what you’re doing! I’ve carried this around with me for nearly a year, my dear. But you are serious? You’re not just saying this to
—
’

‘Look at me,’ she demanded. ‘I, too, carried something around with me. But I can tell you now, Scott, it wasn’t love. Oh yes, I thought it was. I believe you thought that, too. Actually it was two young people’s
idea
of love, two people who were really the only young people, if you remember, Scott, in all Brentwood. It was quite a small place. We were lonely, I suppose, drawn to each other by our age and by similar likes.’

‘And by mutual liking,’ he rushed in eagerly. ‘I can tell you, Fran, I’ve never liked a girl as I liked you.’

‘But not loved.’

‘They say liking is more important,’ he said doubtfully.

‘But it isn’t really, is it?’ she said gently. ‘I think you’ve found that out. Scott, won’t you tell me?’

‘I wasn’t going to,’ he said. ‘If you’d still wanted things the way we both
thought
things were, I had intended to go along with you.’

‘And live a lie?’

‘Fran, there hasn’t been one day since I left Brentwood that I haven’t tortured myself with you. You were so sweet, so trusting. How could I have finished something so abruptly? I asked myself. In the end it was just no good. I simply could not go ahead until I found you, and either went back to what we had had
between us, or—or
—
’

Frances closed her hand over his. ‘Or get your freedom, Scott, though how you could think that way I don’t know. There was never anything officially between us.’

‘An official state didn’t come into it. It was just what I thought.’

‘Yes, you would be like that, Scott,’ she said gently, ‘you were always kind and considerate and true—perhaps too much so. I was bewildered, I admit it. But it was remarkable how every day I seemed to think less about it. Then when I came to West of the River...’ Her voice trailed off. She sat in silence until she became aware that he was looking searchingly at her again. Hurriedly she said, ‘Your turn, Scott. What has it lost you waiting for me all these months?’

‘It’s lost me nothing. I never could have gone on until I was certain you were not hurt. Frances ... Fran ... I looked for you everywhere. I told you that. Eventually I took this job at Mirramunna just to be ... to be...’

‘
Y
es, Scott?’

‘Away,’ he said miserably.

‘Away from—someone?’

‘Yes.’

Frances thought a moment. ‘Pamela?’ she asked softly.

‘Yes.’

‘Did she know how you felt?’

‘Good heavens, no! I’d done enough, surely. What sort of a man do you think I am?’

‘A rather silly, quite old-fashioned but very lovable man.’ Frances kissed him. ‘Now tell me all.’

‘I met Pamela Meldrum when I had the chance to join the Meldrum Clinic. The Clinic’s not what you thought, Fran, I mean it has its social side, but it has its other side as well. Doctor Meldrum, Pamela’s father, had accepted me for that avenue. He’s a fine man and I was proud to be considered. His daughter worked on the welfare section, and we ... well, we..
.’

‘I know,’ Frances smiled.

‘I said
we
,’
went on Scott, ‘but I really shouldn’t. I can only speak for myself. But yet I felt... I sensed...’

‘I understand, Scott. And still’ ... puzzled ... ‘you never tried to find out from her?’

He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t. Not until I’d seen you, made sure. Does that seem stiff? Does it seem stilted? Trammelled?’

‘It seems old-world and very gallant. Only’... a rueful affectionate look ... ‘you’ve wasted precious months, Scott.’

‘It was necessary, Fran, it had to be. Now I can find Pam and not feel wrong about it.’

‘Please do, Scott, and go on from there with my blessing.’

‘That’s what matters—your blessing.’ He mused a moment. ‘Fran, it must have been fate that made me accept Mirramunna. I could have spent years looking for you.’

‘I don’t think you would,’ she smiled. ‘You would have found sense at last and asked Pamela.’

‘Perhaps, only it’s better this way.’ He gave a sigh of content. Presently he asked, ‘What about
you,
Fran?’

‘If you’re talking in the same strain as I talked with you, there’s nothing to tell.’

‘And yet I thought...’ he came in.

‘Then they were only thoughts. Scott, what’s your programme while we’re here?’

‘First of all attendance on Jason. I’ll be there ... you, too ... when the cast comes off, more X-rays taken. Then we’ll consult with the specialists and map our Jason’s future treatment.’

‘And between your attendances?’ she asked. ‘Will you try to see
—’

‘Yes,’ he answered a little shyly though firmly, ‘I will see Pam. But don’t go jumping to conclusions, Fran. It was all just—well, something in the air.’

She touched his hand. ‘Bless you, Scott.’

‘Bless you, Fran.’