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Authors: Marjorie Moore

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BOOK: Honorary Surgeon
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CHAPTER
TEN

As
the train
steamed into the London terminus, Mary espied Noel Mayton

s familiar figure on the platform. She was a few moments catching his eye, but, as soon as he had located her, he hurried along the platform towards her carriage. He greeted Mary with outstretched hands, and, assisting her to alight, caught hold of her suitcase.


Lovely to see you, Mary. By Jove, you do look well!

Noel looked at his companion appraisingly.

Absolutely marvellous. Why, you

re as brown as a berry.

He laughed.

In fact, more attractive than ever.

Mary joined in his infectious laughter.

I feel sp
l
endid, and I

ve had a wonderful holiday.

She handed her ticket to the collector as they passed through the barrier.

Where are we going to now?
’”
She looked enquiringly at her companion.

Noel tucked his arm through hers.

Joan informed me that you hadn

t to report back at hospital until ten-thirty this evening. It

s only a little after seven now. I suggest we go back to my place for dinner. What about it
?


I

d love to.

Mary followed Noel to the ra
c
k where his two-seater was parked, and they were soon threading their way through the traffic to St. John

s Wood. Noel Mayton, although a bachelor, was a home-loving man, and, disliking the idea of rooms or service flats, immediately on his arrival in London, ensconced himself in a small house. It was admirably run by a butler and his wife, and, as Noel was always reminding her, all ready for a wife to walk into. As they drew up before the front gate of the neatly railed-in garden, Mary was forcibly reminded for the hundredth time of what a wonderful husband Noel would make. He was never cut out for a single man, and the absur
d
pride he took in his home, its furnishings, and its infinitesimal garden, was always a source of wonder to his friends. Mary

s thoughts turned to Joan. How happy she would be in sharing these possessions, and, above all, what a perfect wife she would make. Mary could not resist a surreptitious glance at her, friend as he carefully helped her to alight.

No, he hadn

t changed in that brief fortnight; there was nothing to suggest that he withheld a secret, nothing to show that any change had entered his life. Mary sighed. Poor Joan, how disappointed she would be; and yet. Mary felt that, with herself out of the way, nothing could stand in the way of her friend

s happiness. If Joan would be patient, in time Noel must begin to see the love that could be his for the asking.


I

ll go and garage the car; you make yourself comfortable in the lounge. By the way, I bought a couple of pictures last week. They

re perfect gems. Have a look at them while you

re waiting; you

ll love them.

Mary entered the familiar room, and dropped into the depths of an armchair. Her eyes wandered round the walls, and to the pictures Noel had spoken about. He was a genius at what he called

picking up

things, and Mary was bound to admit that his taste was excellent. The small room was a picture of cosiness; manly and yet far from austere. The thick pile carpet gave it an air of warmth, and the curtains, as yet undrawn, were of deep orange velvet, the colour of which was repeated in the many piled cushions. Mary helped herself to a cigarette, the Turkish brand she loved. Noel always
remembered her tastes. She lit it, then, with a sigh of contentment, sank back in her chair.

Mary had scarcely settled herself when Noel entered the room.

Hope I haven

t been long. Have a cigarette? Oh, I see you

ve got one. Mind if I smoke a pipe?

Without awaiting a reply, he lighted up, then, drawing up a chair, seated himself opposite his companion.

Now tell me all about your doings during the last two weeks,

he commanded.


I haven

t really done much; it was very quiet. Just a lot of motoring. It

s lovely count
r
y round there, some swimming, and—well, really there isn

t anything to tell.

Mary laughed.

A heavenly rest; isn

t that enough for any holiday?


How did you find your friend
?
It was some years since you

d seen her, wasn

t it?

Noel asked.


Oh, Veronica. It was lovely meeting again, and she has the most adorable baby.

Mary

s face clouded.

Only fly in the ointment, I don

t think she is very happily married.

Noel puffed silently at his pipe before speaking.

How

s that?

he queried briefly.


It

s all so unfortunate. She

s really such a dear, and, in his way, I think he

s very nice too. The trouble is she doesn

t love him. I don

t believe she ever did, so I suppose, in a way, it

s her own fault,

Mary admitted grudgingly.


Of course it is! What do women expect if
they tie themselves up with a man they don

t care about?

Noel knocked out his pipe, and proceeded to refill it with meticulous care.

I suppose there is someone else? There usually is.


Yes, there is.

Mary lapsed into silence.

Noel leaned towards her.

Don

t be so miserable about it, Mary; the whole point is that one can do nothing, and worrying about other people

s troubles doesn

t help them.


I know.

Mary looked up and sought her companion

s gaze before continuing.

Noel, you

ve just admitted that the biggest mistake a girl can make is to marry a man she only likes. It

s absolutely essential that she should really love him.

As Noel made to speak, Mary urged him to silence.

No, don

t interrupt me. I haven

t finished. I want you to do me a favour. Don

t propose to me ever again. I like you awfully, but you know that my feelings for you are not really love. You are longing for a wife; no one knows that better than I; but, Noel, I

m not the right wife for you; I

m not really. While you are bothering about me, you are probably missing the very girl for you.


Mary dear
...

Noel laid his hand over hers as it rested on the arm of her chair.

I think I realized lately that was the way you felt; that

s why I didn

t bother you while you were away. I was longing to run over and see you, but ... oh, well, I thought I

d better leave you alone.

He dropped his hand from hers.

I

ll always be fond of you, Mary, always.


Don

t be silly.

Mary forced a laugh.

I think if ever

pity was akin to love,

this is an example. You

ve been dreadfully sorry for me ever since

—Mary

s

voice broke, and she pulled herself together with an effort—

daddy died. I

ve been grateful, Noel, more grateful than I can ever say.

As Noel remained silent, Mary continued speaking.

There

s no need to be despondent; you ought to be glad that I have decided to release you from your obligation and stand on my own feet,

Mary said teasingly.


I

ve loved helping ... if I have helped.


Of course you have,

Mary broke in.

I don

t know what would have happened to me without you.

She paused.

Tell me, Noel, what have you been doing since I saw you last?

she asked with an abrupt change of subject.


Doing? Me? Oh, nothing much. I took your friend Joan Howe out once or twice. You remember you asked me to.


Yes, of course,

Mary agreed, with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

Tell me, Noel, do you like her?


Yes; she

s jolly nice. I enjoyed her company immensely. Of course, I knew her before, but I got to know her better this time.

The ring of the telephone interrupted their conversation. With a smothered

Damn,

Noel rose to answer it.

Hope to goodness it isn

t to see a patient,

he muttered, as he
crossed to the instrument and removed the receiver from the hook.

Hallo. This is Dr. Mayton

s house. Who is it?

Mary twisted round to watch her companion, and with relief saw his rugged features break into smiles. So it wasn

t a patient. She turned back with a sigh of contentment; she

d have hated their evening to be spoilt
.

Yes, of course, she

s here now; want to speak to her?

Noel beckoned to Mary while he still held the receiver to his ear.

Hold on. Here she is.


Who on earth is it?

Mary whispered as she took the telephone from Noel

s hand.


Joan. She rang up to speak to you; I told her you

d be here tonight.


Joan!

Mary talked eagerly into the instalment.

Yes, I

m back all right.

She pulled a face.

Worse luck! Yes, Noel met me at the station; we

re dining here; I

ll be back by ten. I

ll come straight to your room.

Mary frowned.

What, you

re off tonight? Where are you going?

Mary clapped her hand quickly over the mouthpiece as she turned to her companion.

Noel, got enough dinner for one extra? Can I ask Joan to come along here?


Of course, ask her; the more the merrier.

Noel knocked out his pipe against the grate and helped himself to a cigarette as he listened idly to the one-sided conversation.


Yes, really, Noel says you are to come.

Mary smiled at her friend

s answer.

Rot! That

s no excuse. You can be here in half an hour. Yes, of course we can wait dinner. You

ll be here soon after eight if you hurry and don

t waste any more time arguing.

Mary turned to Noel.

She says she

ll come.

She spoke again into the mouthpiece.

I

ve told Noel you

re coming. Good-bye. See you soon.

She replaced the receiver on its hook, and crossed back to her chair.

Sure it

s all right, Noel? You didn

t mind, did you?

she questioned her companion a trifle anxiously.


Mind? Of course not.

Noel

s words carried such assurance that Mary

s
doubts were quickly dispelled. Well, she mused, that was certainly one step
forward. A few weeks previously, if she had suggested a third person intruding on
their
t
ete-a-tete,
Noel would have been grumpy the whole evening—except on
one occasion. Mary smiled to herself. That evening that Sir Richard had intruded.
Noel hadn

t minded that. Funny how no one ever minded Sir Richard intruding.

During the next half-hour, Noel and Mary discussed pictures. Noel removed his two latest treasures from the wall where they hung, and brought them closer for Mary
’s
inspection. They were duly examined and admired, only one criticism from Mary bringing up such a lengthy argument that they were both startled by the door-bell. Mary glanced at the clock.

Surely it can

t be Joan yet? My goodness, it

s past eight already; it must be!

She jumped to her feet, and preceded Noel to the door.


Joan dear.

She kissed her friend.

How lovely to see you again.

Mary chatted on happily while she assisted her friend to remove her coat.

Come on in. Poor Noel hasn

t even had time to say good evening yet!


I was wondering when I

d get near enough to shake hands.

Noel gripped Joan

s extended hand.

I

m glad you could join us. You

re not late either; we

ve just time for a quick sherry before dinner.

Dinner was a merry meal. Joan, as was her wont, scarcely ceased talking, and kept her two companions in laughter at her tales of recent happenings at hospital.

Mary, I

m sorry you missed it; it was the funniest ever,

she ended up as she finished a tale concerning a wordy battle between Sister Tudor and Matron.


Well, if you

ve finished, I think we

ll adjourn to more comfortable chairs for coffee,

Noel suggested. The two girls rose and preceded their host from the dining-room. Drawing up easy chairs, they seated themselves again in the lounge. Conversation lapsed until coffee had been handed, and the butler had again left the room.


Tell me, Joan, do you think the nurses are still fed up with me? Is there any chance of that little episode having blown over?

Mary enquired hopefully.


You never can tell; it may be all right. Sir Richard is leaving for his holiday soon, so that will help,

Joan suggested.


That was a rotten business, Mary
.
Joan told me a little about it,

Noel interrupted.

I

d like to wring their wretched necks, treating you like that.

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