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Authors: Marjorie Moore

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Yes, I

m tired, too,

Mary agreed,

but I feel altogether too lazy to move. It

s ages since I

ve enjoyed anything as much as this evening. I wish it could go on forever.

Well, of course, you need not come in yet if you don

t want to, and it certainly is a perfect night. How would
yo
u like me to make a cup of tea? I often do after the maids have gone to bed. It may just give you sufficient energy to get you up to bed.

Veronica laughed.


Don

t forget my whisky,

Guy called after his wife

s retreating figure.

Mary stared at the broad figure of her host with a glint of annoyance in her eyes. It was his tone of voice when addressing his wife that angered Mary. He always seemed to be ordering her about, and appeared to have neither respect nor consideration for her. Mary eyed his vast bulk, reclining at ease in the deck-chair, and was filled with irritation at his lack of good manners.


I think I

ll go and lend Veronica a hand,

she murmured in as non-committal a tone as she could muster.

In a second Guy had roused himself.

No, don

t go. She

ll be back in a few minutes; let

s have peace for a little while.


What on earth are you talking about?

And now Mary could not keep her voice calm.

I

m sure there

s nothing about Veronica which spoils your

peace,

as you call it!


Nothing, of course, except her continual nagging,

he retorted sarcastically.


Don

t (drink so much, Guy
...
Don

t be late for dinner
...
Don

t give Jeanette chocolates
...
Don

t speak like that to the maids
...

Don

t, don

t, don

t
...
from morning to night; I tell you I

m sick and tired of it. I suppose I was a fool to marry; I was in love, or thought I was. Anyway, I was infatuated by Veronica

s elfin prettiness, captivated by her naive air of innocence.

He spoke bitterly.

I imagined for a few forlorn weeks, that we might settle down quite contentedly. But of course I was wrong
...
our fools

paradise didn

t last long
...
except for Jeannie; I do adore her, you know.

His tone softened surprisingly.


I don

t know why you

re telling me all this. It isn

t going to make things easier for any of us. You seem to forget that Veronica is my friend.


I don

t quite know myself why I am what is commonly known as unburdening my soul, except that you look sympathetic by nature, of is that a kind of professional veneer?

His tone became cynical again.


There

s nothing

professional

about my attitude here. I suppose I am fairly sympathetic by nature, although I don

t consider that your case calls for sympathy.


You blasted women! You always stick together. I might have known that!

He spoke sullenly.

I must have been mad, or drunk, to imagine that you

d be any different from the rest. Fancy my being beguiled by your superficial air of kindness! You

re all alike beneath the surface, the whole damn lot of you! ... So sweet and pure to the outward eye, and at heart about as gentle as a hell-fire cat. Pah!

He grunted contemptuously.

I suppose that prim and virtuous air of yours is merely a cloak for the average woman

s amorous instincts!


I don

t think you have reason to speak to me like that, much less the right.

Mary spoke with a quiet assurance she was far from feeling. Guy Perivale

s sudden change of behaviour had completely bewildered her. His original outburst had been disturbing, but it had no connection with the brutal wording of his later harangue. She had suspected that he was moody, but this
...
how could she ever cope with it?


Oh, well, you may as well know the sort of brute I am right from the word

go.

You

d have found out sooner or later. I don

t think I

ll wait for your tea-drinking orgy.

He rose to his feet, then, with a sudden downward swoop, bent and kissed her full on the mouth, and as swiftly drew himself upright and walked indoors, leaving Mary gazing after him in horrified amazement.

 

CHAPTER
SEVEN

A light tap on the door aroused Mary from a deep sleep.

The maid, Johnson, entered the room, and placing a tea-tray beside the bed, proceeded to draw the curtains.

“A lovely morning, miss, and very warm again,” she announced as she carefully looped the curtains in place. “Shall I run your bath?”

“Please,” Mary nodded assent, and, taking the tray on her knee, poured out a cup of tea.

“Please ring if there is anything you want,” Johnson suggested as she closed the door behind her.

Mary drank her tea, then, setting the tray back on the bedside table, slipped out of bed. The luxury, so long denied her, and the joy of freedom made her glow with renewed energy. She hummed happily as she lay full length in the scented bath-water, flicking the even surface with her fingers until it lapped in tiny, soothing ripples against her bare limbs. How lovely to enjoy such unhurried pleasures without insistent rattles at the handle and impatient knockings on the door. She lingered pleasurably over her dressing. How nice it was to lay aside, for a time, the stiff uniform of nursing, and to draw over her limbs the silk underwear, carefully retained from former times for such an occasion as this. She donned a white linen frock and arranged a scarlet suede belt at her waist. She was giving a final dab of powder to her nose when Veronica walked in.


Hullo. Sleep all right?

Without awaiting an answer, she kissed her friend.

You do look nice. I adore that dress! Ready for breakfast? What would you like to do today?


Anything you like. I shan

t be a second; I can

t get my hair to stay put this morning.

Mary pushed an unruly curl into place.


I can

t think why you don

t wear it short. It would look heaps nicer, and with those glorious waves, too.

Veronica sighed enviously.

I only wish I had hair like that.


Yours just suits you as it is; you do it beautifully. I used to wear mine short, before I was at hospital. I don

t think they really approve of short hair there.

Mary laughed.

I suppose they consider a bun more dignified. Of course, I must admit it

s much easier to keep a cap straight when you have a bit of hair to fix it on.


Well, wear a false bit,

Veronica retorted.

We

ll run into Oxford and have you shingled.

She paused.

Bother, today

s Sunday; we

ll go first thing tomorrow,

she announced with determination. She slipped her arm through her friend

s, and together they made their way downstairs.

Mary felt almost thankful when she learned, over the breakfast-table, that her host would be absent the following day on business, but she did not allow his presence during that long, indolent Sunday to spoil her pleasure. Veronica insisted that there was never anything to do on a Sunday, so, stretched out in deck-chairs in the shade, they passed the morning in an ideal state of laziness. Baby Jeanette was a constant source of joy to Mary, who adored children, and nursery tea was an unaccustomed delight. In the evening they played bridge, and after her third rubber Mary was quite ready for bed.

Breakfast over the following day, the girls bade Aunt Bess
au revoir
and drove into Oxford. Veronica, still firm in her purpose, conducted Mary to a hairdresser

s, and, deaf to her protests, insisted that her hair be cut to a more fashionable length. Realizing the uselessness of argument, and secretly rather pleased at the prospect, Mary watched the silken strands of hair drop beneath the ruthless scissors.


There now, isn

t that better? You look lovely!

Veronica exclaimed with delight as Mary finally turned to face her friend.


You like it?

Mary stood in front of the mirror in silent contemplation.

I suppose it

s alright,

she announced doubtfully.

I think I look ridiculously childish. I

ll have to scrape it back somehow for hospital.


Damn the hospital!

Veronica retorted.

You won

t be there for another fortnight, so why worry? Anyway, it must be much cooler in this weather, and loads more convenient for bathing. Hurry up, we might have time for a bathe before lunch. I

ve only a little more ordering to do for aunt.


It sounds a good idea. But where do you bathe here? In the river? I don

t care much for river bathing, personally.


No, it

s much better than that!

Veronica explained triumphantly.

We

ve some friends a couple of miles from Windyridge; they

ve a wonderful pool, and I can use it whenever I like.

Mary followed her friend into the street, and then into another shop.

But won

t your friends mind your taking me there?


Good heavens, no! In any case, there is no one to mind! The old lady hardly ever leaves the house, and her son lives in town and only comes down for a day or two occasionally.

Veronica gave her order, and then rushed Mary into another shop.

Let me see.

She consulted a
scribbled list.

Yes, that will do; I can leave the rest till tomorrow. Let

s collect the car and go back for our bathing suits.

Mary glanced at her friend

s profile as Veronica steered the small car through the winding lanes. Somehow she looked different this morning, more gay and irresponsible, the Veronica Mary remembered so well. She hadn

t been quite like that yesterday, but this morning she was almost her old self.

“You’re very quiet. What are you dreaming about?”

The question
brought Mary back with a start.

Nothing
...
Does your husband often go to town on business
?”


Quite a bit; he has to keep in touch with the London office while he

s on leave. Were you thinking about
him?”

The question was a direct challenge, and Mary hesitated before reply

Yes, I was
...
Veronica, are you happy? Almost before
s
he had realized the bluntness of the question, it was uttered.

I

m sorry. I shouldn

t have asked such a thing. Veronica, forgive me for asking,

she added quickly.


Don

t be silly.

Veronica laughed, but there was little merriment in the sound.

We may not have met for ages, but you are still the only real friend I

ve got. I couldn

t expect you to stay in the same house with us and not ask that question. You

ll guess sooner or later, so you may as well know from me.

Mary laid her hand gently on her friend

s arm.

Please, Veronica, don

t say any more.


But I want to! Veronica turned her eyes for a moment from the road, and looked at her companion.

I

m absolutely miserable. I

d run away tomorrow if I dared, but there

s Jeanette ... she

s the only thing that makes life worth living. I

ve made a mess of things, Mary, but I

m paying for it now.


Veronica,
I’
m sorry
...”
There was a break in Mary

s voice.

You never said anything definite in your letters ... I didn

t realize
...”
She broke off, at a loss for words.


Why should I tell you? You had enough trouble of your own, didn

t you?

Veronica swung the car into the drive of Windyridge and drew up outside the entrance.


Mary, don

t let

s mention the matter again. There is nothing anyone can do to help me, so it

s no good talking about things. It

s lovely having you here with me, and I

m determined to make the most of every moment. You won

t ask any more about it, will you?


Of course I won

t. But, Veronica, if there is ever anything I can do
...
anything
...
you

ll tell me, won

t you?

Mary took her friend

s hands and held them in hers.

There is nothing I wouldn

t do to help you, darling,

she assured her earnestly.


Thank you, Mary; I think I knew that.

She withdrew her hands, and opening the door, jumped out of the car.

If ever I need your help, I promise I

ll tell you. Now let

s change the subject.

She introduced a note of gaiety into her voice.

We

ve a whole, perfect day to ourselves, and we

re wasting precious minutes. I

ll dash upstairs and collect two bathing suits. You wait for me here.

As Mary watched the figure of her friend running up the broad stone steps, her eyes were misted with tears, and, despite the warm sunshine, she felt suddenly chilled. Veronica unhappy! Now she knew for certain that ominous fact to be true, it seemed unbelievable.

Veronica rejoined her within a few minutes.

Here are the bathing suits; I hope one of mine will fit you.

She approached the car and threw a bundle of bathing things on the back seat, then opened the door and wriggled her slim body behind the steering-wheel.

We

re about the same size; it ought to be all right. Do you know, this will be the first time I

ve bathed since I

ve been here!

She turned the car round and drove again down the drive.

I

ve put in some food too; thought we might fancy a picnic lunch. I couldn

t be bothered to wait for sandwiches to be cut, so I

m afraid it will be rather a scrappy affair,

she explained with an apologetic laugh.


What a grand idea!

Mary exclaimed delightedly.

I adore picnics.


Don

t get excited, darling; it

s a pretty meagre one.

Veronica pulled a face.

Auntie dislikes being hurried; she expects a picnic to be ordered at least a week ahead!
I just grabbed a loaf, butter, sardines, and ham. I hadn

t forgot
t
en you liked sardines,

Veronica added.

Do you remember that time we brought them back to school and
ate them in bed?

She burst into peals of laughter.

Gosh, what a mess we made!


We certainly did! I do hope you haven

t forgotten the opener this time.

Mary joined in her companion

s laughter.

BOOK: Honorary Surgeon
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