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Authors: Marjorie Moore

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Not on your life. We

ll face the frigid atmosphere together. I feel well worked up for a real row with someone. Hurrah, here comes tea. It looks as if we

re going to be alone, anyway, and I shan

t have a chance of a wordy argument after all.

A maid entered the room and set the table with tea. A limited number of teas were always set in the sitting-room for the nurses who were off duty, while the dining-room supplied tea for those who could spare a moment from their work in the wards.


Same old cake,

Joan sighed.

I

m tired of the sight of it. It was stale the first day it appeared; it will need a road drill to break through it now.

Mary drank her tea.

No, thanks, I won

t have anything,

she said, refusing the dish which Joan offered her.


You must eat something, Mary. The bread and butter isn

t too bad.

She pulled a face.

I don

t know, though; this butter tastes a bit suspicious to me.


It

s just as well I

m not hungry,

Mary laughed.

I was a bit doubtful about the butter myself when I had it at lunch.

Joan took a mouthful of cake, then spoke again.

I know the food

s somewhat unappetising, but you know you ought to try and eat a bit more than you do. You

ve looked rotten the last few days. You

ve lost all your sunburn, and gone all pale and washy again.


You

ll make me conceited! I must look attractive.

Mary laughed, then added more seriously,

Really, Joan, I do eat—not a lot, but, then, I

ve not felt much like it.

Mary broke off as two nurses entered the room, who, crossing to the table, commenced to serve themselves with tea. It was fully a minute before, their hands filled with cups and plates, they turned towards the other occupants of the room recognizing Joan, Nurse Vickers greeted her, then, perceiving Mary, nudged her companion and turned abruptly away. Mary felt the colour mount her cheeks at the deliberate snub. She should have been used to such treatment by now, and yet every time she was subjected to it it hurt her afresh.

Nurse Vickers and her companion settled themselves in chairs at the opposite corner of the room, and were soon joined by two other nurses. Although they entered the room sep
a
rately, in each case the same performance was repeated. Joan was hailed by each in turn, while Mary

s presence was completely ignored.

Joan Howe continued to behave as if nothing untoward had occurred. She drank her tea and kept on talking with Mary. Mary was hardly aware that Joan was talking, and certainly quite oblivious to anything she said. She had only one desire—to escape from the room, quickly, before they could hurt her more. She knew instinctively that it was already too late; the low laughter and whispers from the further corner of the room warned her that she was already the subject of their discussion. Her fears proved true when, a moment later, Nurse Vicker

s high-pitched voice addressed her.


Honouring us, aren

t you, Grant? We haven

t had the pleasure of your company here for quite a time,

she remarked sarcastically.


Grant can probably think of infinitely more pleasurable ways of spending her time than in your company.

Joan spoke up quickly.

Nurse Vickers was in no way abashed by Joan

s retort, and, no doubt encouraged by her audience of nurses, continued her attack.

Bad luck being put on

special,

Grant: you don

t see anything of your friend Sir Richard now, do you?

As Mary remained silent, she continued,

Funny how the aristocracy always get together in the end. I suppose you explained to Sir Richard that you were only a nurse through unfortunate circumstances; that really, by birth, you should be one of the idle rich?

she enquired insolently.


She wouldn

t have to tell him,

one of Nurse Vickers

friends joined in.

I should think he could see for himself. Grant has never lost that beautifully refined air, and her hands and nails—oh,
well, surely anyone could see how she avoids spoiling them?

She laughed.

I do hope he appreciated your new style of hair dress too; so sweetly
ingénue
,”
she

added mockingly.

Mary rose to her feet; she felt she couldn

t bear any more, and, despite Joan

s efforts to detain her, hurried from the room. Why did they hate her so? Mary brushed away the angry tears which stung her eyes, and hurried along the echoing corridor towards the sanctuary of her own room. Of course she should have answered back; Joan would have supported her; but, after all, what was the good of it? The nurses hated her, every one of them, and, whatever she had said, she would have got the worst of it all in the end. Mary

s head was lowered, and she was unaware of the tall figure barring her way until, almost colliding with Sir Richard, she stopped short.


I

m
...
I

m sorry. I didn

t see you
...

She made to hurry on, but, placing his hand on her arm, he detained her
.


Just a moment. I want to speak to you. In fact, I came along here to try and find you. I never see you these days. Haven

t set eyes on you since your return. What

s happened? Aren

t you in the ward and more?


No
...
no, I

m doing the private rooms now.

Mary tried to release Sir Richard

s hold on her arm.

I really must be going,

she murmured apologetically.


You can

t go for a minute. I

ve told you I want a word with you, and it

s my last chance for some time. I shall be going away for my holidays.


Yes, I know.

Mary paused, then added with an air of finality,

Good-bye. I hope you have a very nice time.


Now then, not so fast!

Sir Richard drew her back.

You can

t go yet; I want to talk to you.

He stopped speaking, and stared at her for a moment in silence.

I want to know how things are getting on; whether you are any happier now?

There was no mistaking his meaning. Then he hadn

t forgotten her plight. Mary sighed. It was comforting to know that at least he regretted his action, but the unfortunate part was that he was helpless to put things right. She lifted her face to her companion

s, and was surprised at the concern in his expression.

Oh, yes, everything is all right now.

Mary made the words sound as convincing as she was able. After all, she argued, what was the use of telling the truth? He would only be sympathetic, and that wouldn

t help. Not only would it not help, but sympathy at that moment, she felt, would undoubtedly shatter the little control which remained to her.


Mary!

Sir Richard placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her round to face him.

Look at me.

As Mary still kept her face lowered, he tilted it up to face him.

I thought so. Crying. I guessed you weren

t telling me the truth.

His voice was infinitely tender as he continued,

Poor Mary, I believe you

re still having a rotten time. You

ve got to let me help somehow.

The banging of the sitting-room door, and the unmistakable drawl of Nurse Vickers

voice, caused Mary to tear herself from her companion

s grasp.

There is someone coming ... I can

t be seen here talking to you; you must let me go
...
you must.

Her voice rose hysterically.


Hush, Mary! Don

t get so upset. I

ll go in a second, but if I can

t discuss things with you now, you must promise to meet me tonight. It is essential that we talk this matter over before I go away.


Please, let me go
...
there is nothing to discuss, there isn

t really,

Mary protested tearfully.


I disagree.

There was a note of firmness in Sir Richard

s voice which brooked no denial.

Promise to meet me tonight—Patti

s grill at eight o

clock—and then you can go.

As Mary remained silent, he added:

if you

re not off duty tonight, when is your next free time?


Tonight
...
otherwise not until Sunday.


I shall be away by then. Make it tonight. Don

t forget; Patti

s at eight. It

s a promise, mind!

Sir Richard turned on his heel, and only disappeared into the lift as Nurse Vickers, arm in arm with her friend, appeared round the bend in the corridor. Without waiting to find out whether they had recognized her companion or not, Mary took to her heels and fled up the stairs to her bedroom.

When she flung herself into her bedroom chair, Mary was gasping for breath. What a near shave it had been! But somehow she didn

t think that Nurse Vickers had
seen Sir Richard. She emitted a sigh of gratitude; thank goodness for that! Coming across her in the corridor having a
tete-a-tete
with Sir Richard would have given Nurse Vickers enough food for malicious remarks for the next month to come.

As Mary regained her breath, she reviewed the conversation. She

d have to meet him tonight, that was certain. Noel! How disappointed he

d be! She

d never put him off before, and he always kept his Wednesday exclusively at her disposal. She

d have to explain

she

d better ring up at once. Mary stood irresolute. What could she explain? For what reason was she really meeting Sir Richard? Impossible to convince Noel that she

d really had no option in the matter. Mary opened her bedroom door and made her way slowly down the corridor towards the public telephone. Even when she was in the box, and the instrument was in her hand, she hesitated. What could she say? How on earth could she make Noel understand? With fingers that trembled, she dialled the number.

Yes, Dr. Mayton was at home. Who was it speaking? Mary gave her name, then, in an agony of suspense, waited. She was not kept waiting long before Noel

s familiar voice greeted her.


Hallo, Mary. Noel here.


Oh, hallo
...”
Mary paused, then steeling herself, continued speaking:

It

s about tonight ... I don

t think I

ll be able to come.


Not come!

Noel

s surprise was evident.

I say, what

s the matter? You aren

t ill or anything, are you?

Even across the wire, Noel

s voice carried a hint of anxiety.


No, no, of course not.

Mary laughed, but the sound, even to her, was harsh and unnatural.

I can

t manage tonight
...
it

s an awful nuisance. I am disappointed, too, but, you see, I couldn

t very well refuse and ... Sir Richard goes away at the end of the week.


I can

t hear you properly. What

s that you said? I didn

t catch it—something about Sir Richard?


Yes ... I said Sir Richard goes away at the end of the week, so I couldn

t arrange any other time to meet him,

Mary repeated as clearly and deliberately as she
was able.


You mean you

re going out with Alymer tonight?

Even the distance could not conceal the surprise in Noel

s voice.


Yes ... I hope you don

t mind ... I really couldn

t help it

There was a definite pause before Noel spoke again. Mary could imagine him, his irregular features drawn into a frown, while he considered the situation. When next he spoke, there was no hint of anger in his voice.


Of course I don

t mind.

His low, deep laugh came to her ears.

I believe I understand better than you think. Don

t worry about me, Mary; remember, your happiness means a lot to me. So long, my dear, and all the best.

Mary replaced the receiver and stood for a moment, her fingers pressed to her temples. Of course, Noel had got the whole thing all wrong again ... Still what did it matter? She

d already decided that it really was much better so.

M
ary closed the telephone-box behind her, and returned to the quiet solitude of her room.

BOOK: Honorary Surgeon
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