Nurse Angela (13 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

It
was quite dark when Angela returned to the hospital that night. The bus had taken her out onto the moors and she had walked until she was exhausted before throwing herself down on the bracken unable to walk a step farther. Roger was right not to tolerate second-best love, of course. In the acceptance of his love and proposal of marriage she had merely sought relief from her inner sense of frustration and a love to take the place of one she most desired—Simon’s.

Out on the moors the soft warmth of the autumn sun and the pungent smell of the bracken had been like a balm to her bruised heart and pride, and the fresh, cool breeze had helped to clear her mind a little. Of course, she had been wrong, utterly wrong, to contemplate marriage to Roger, feeling as she did about Simon. She thought with shame how reluctant she had been to give time to Suzette and her mother because it might mean being in Simon’s company, and she could not bear the thought of being with him, loving him and not being loved in return. She had behaved badly and had very nearly been guilty of spoiling Roger’s life. She was still, however, a long way from accepting, without pain, the fact that Simon belonged to Paulette. Tears ran down her cheeks at the recollection that, though he had held her in his arms many times during those wonderful nights in Paris and had kissed her as though he loved her, the only time he had spoken the words she would give the world to hear, he had followed it by a regretful, “up here there is too much magic.”

When dusk began to fall she got to her feet, and finding the road again, caught a bus back to town.

When the maid brought her breakfast on Tuesday morning she was told she was wanted on the telephone.

“I’m so glad I’ve found you still in, darling,” her mother’s voice said brightly. “I wasn’t sure what was happening today. You
are
coming home aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mother, as soon as I’ve had breakfast.”

“Is Roger coming with you?”

Her heart contracted painfully. “No, Mother.”

“Oh well, in that case, you won’t mind if Simon comes, will you? I’d so like to take Susan out for the day and it’s much nicer in a car than waiting for buses. Simon would bring his car, of course.”

“Is he free? You seem more informed about his movements than I do.”

“Susan called him. He has one or two things to attend to; then he is leaving the rest to Dr. Wilson. He said he’d be leaving about ten o’clock,” she hinted.

“What about Paulette?”

“Paulette? My dear, surely you know she’s in Derby today. You must have been dreaming on Sunday. Anyway, Simon gave the message that if you’re
free...”

Angela sighed resignedly. “All right, Mother. I’ll go and get ready now.”

What Paulette Was doing in Derby she had no idea. All she knew was that Paulette would not be with them. She would have Simon’s company for the whole day. She forgot for the moment that that could mean pain as well as joy, and with a thrill of excitement she went to get ready, leaving
her breakfast almost untouched.

She dressed with care, choosing a green pleated skirt and a bright yellow sweater topped by a suede jacket that had a soft, velvety appearance. She was pleased with the effect.

She was flushed and smiling as she ran down the stairs and out into the clear autumn morning where Simon sat at the wheel of his car waiting for her.

“You look happy this morning,” he said as she climbed in beside him.

She flashed a swift glance at him. He didn’t look very happy. Perhaps he was wishing Paulette were coming. At this thought, the joy she had felt at being with him died. She made no reply to his comment and the silence hung heavily between them as he drove through the streets and out of the town.

Presently, she said, “It was good of you to wait for me.”

“Not at all,” he answered stiffly. “It was the least I could do after Mrs. Lindsay’s kindness to my mother. They’re planning a day in the country. I hope it hasn’t interfered too much with your own plans.”

“Oh no, I was going home today in any case,” she said, trying to keep the bleakness out of her voice at his formal politeness.

True, their relationship had been rather strained since that night he had told Matron they were engaged, but really, she had been more upset by that than he had. And since then, Paulette had arrived on the scene and brought gladness to his eyes. Why then was he so cool, so morose? Surely their pseudo engagement was not worrying him?

“I’m glad you were able to get away today,” she offered. “Suzette will be pleased.”

“Yes.”

“By the way, I hope you don’t feel it a liberty my calling your mother Suzette,” she went on in an effort to keep some kind of conversation going, “but she specially asked me to.”

“In that case, why should I mind?” he answered noncommittally. “Mother calls her by her English name—Susan.”

“Yes, so I noticed.”

“I think I prefer it.”

He did not answer and Angela gave up in despair. Simon drove in silence—a silence he much preferred to their stilted conversation. He had not wanted to come on this trip in the least, but the two older women had been set on it and particularly wanted him and Angela to be with them. He gave an inward, ironic smile. If those two were trying to do a little matchmaking, their efforts were doomed to failure.

They were nearing their destination when Angela said, “Simon, couldn’t you and I, well, sink our differences for today? It’s my mother and Suzette I’m thinking of.”

“I seem to remember most of the annoyance being on your part in the first place,” he said uncompromisingly. Then he looked at her downcast face. “All right, if it pleases you, we’ll call a truce.”

Helen and Suzette received them with beaming smiles. “Well, have you two mothers decided where we’re going?” Simon asked.

“I thought Monsal Dale. What do you think?
”

Angela said she would love it.

“I’ve never been,” Simon said, “but I believe all the dales are lovely.”

So they set off. Angela insisted on Suzette sitting in front with Simon while she and Helen took the back seats. The road took them past the part of the moor where Angela had walked on the previous day, and involuntarily, a wave of longing and hopelessness swept over her. She looked at the back of Simon’s fair head and felt she would never love any other man.

As if aware of her thoughts he half turned his head.

“All right at the back?”

Helen answered. Angela could not trust herself to speak at that moment. Then to her discomfort, Suzette asked, “Was your friend Roger not able to come, Angela?”

“He ...
he thought it better if Simon came instead.”

“Very sensible of him,” remarked Helen.

After about an hour’s driving they reached Monsal Dale. Suzette gasped with delight at the lovely view spread before them. An exquisitely beautiful valley stretched below in the sun. To the right, a tiny bridge arched over the clear, running water of the river, cows grazed lazily in the fertile green meadow, and wooded hills rose in green and brown folds to the left and beyond. Entrancing wooded paths wound invitingly along the river and through the trees.

“Oh, this is indeed England,” breathed Suzette ecstatically. “How could I have stayed away so long! There is nothing like this in the whole of France, or, for that matter, in the whole, wide world.”

“Has it taken beautiful scenery to make you realize that there is another country besides France?” asked Simon bitterly.

Angela glanced quickly at Suzette, but she seemed not to have heard Simon’s remark. What had come over him?

Simon and Angela carried the picnic basket between them down the road that descended steeply to the green valley. Helen suggested that the two go by the footpath while she and Suzette carried the basket, but both Simon and Angela protested vigorously.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting you two carry the basket,” Simon said. “And we couldn’t carry it down the path in comfort.”

“Do you know, Susan,” Helen remarked as the two mothers dropped a little way behind. “I think our children are afraid of each other.”

“Yes, I noticed that in Paris,” Suzette replied.

“Oh? I thought you said they were happy with each other in Paris.”

“They were in the end. But not at first. At least, not after the first evening or so.”

“They almost seem to dislike each other now,” Helen said worriedly.

Suzette laughed softly. “Don’t worry, Helen. They’ll sort themselves out, given time. Young folks always do.”

Suzette was silent for a while. Then she said quietly, “Simon needs love. He’s had so little, even from me. I gave all I had to his father and since then—” She broke off, then went on, “I’ve failed him utterly in the past, I’m afraid. I can still give him a certain kind of love, of course—care and affection—which I will give him in the future if he will let me. But Simon needs a different kind of love now. He needs the love and understanding of a woman of his own age and generation.”

“It may not be Angela,” Helen pointed out. “She’s very attached to Roger. And then, there’s Paulette.”

“A mere boy and girl affair. As for Angela, I’m sure she’s not in love with this fellow, Roger.”

“I
sincerely hope she’s not in love with Simon if he isn't with her,” murmured Helen.

They had their picnic lunch by the river. Afterward, Simon stretched out lazily on the grass enjoying the luxury of a day of leisure. Angela glanced at him as he lay with his eyes closed. She wondered wistfully at his thoughts.

Unconsciously, an expression of tenderness crossed her face, and a look of understanding passed between the two older women.

“Angela, why don’t you and Simon take a walk?” Helen suggested. “Suzette and I are too old for anything more than a gentle stroll. You’d soon leave us behind.”

Simon opened his eyes in time to catch the quick frown that clouded Angela’s brow.

“Angela would rather not,” he said flatly.

Angela bit her lip. Then she smiled slightly and bent over him to whisper, “Truce—remember?”

He looked at her and for a moment time seemed suspended as she caught his full gaze. Then he got to his feet abruptly and they strolled off in the direction of the wooded hills.

“It certainly is a lovely spot,” Simon said presently, gazing all around at the graceful curves of the hills, the peaceful valley, the gently winding river.

“Are you enjoying it?”

“It would be difficult
not to ...
especially in the company of a beautiful woman like you,” he finished sardonically. He picked up a piece of stick and thrashed at the loose twigs and grass at their feet.

She flushed. “I don’t want your compliments.”

“I should have known you wouldn’t. But let’s not quarrel. This was to be a ‘truce.’”

“You seem determined to quarrel.”

“I never felt less like quarreling with anyone in my life,” he retorted. “Now, for goodness’ sake, let’s talk of something else.”

With a last effort to be lighthearted, she began softly,
“‘The
time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things
...
’
”

“ ‘And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings.’ ” Suddenly they both laughed.

“I wouldn’t have thought you knew that,” Angela said.

“Oh yes. Lewis
Carroll
is translated into French, and I must confess that I have an English copy of
Alice in Wonderland.
I find it curiously relaxing to read at any time.”

“Do you read a great deal, Simon?”

“Yes. More than is good for me, I think. I
...
don’t make friends very easily.”

“Not in England, perhaps, but in France, you seemed
more ... more...
”

She faltered, not quite sure how to put it. In France he seemed a different person altogether. Her heart gave a vicious twist and she searched her mind frantically for something trivial to say. But she felt she was treading on dangerous ground to mention France at all, apart from the fact that the subject was painful. He might think she was deliberately trying to remind him of their time there together, so she said no more, and he did not prompt her. They walked in silence for a while and presently, as the peace and beauty of the valley permeated her being, she turned to smile at him. But there was no answering smile on Simon’s lips, only a tightness of his mouth and a look in his eyes that she c
o
uld not fathom at all.

“Let’s get back to the two mothers,” he said. “I’ve had enough walking. Perhaps I’ll be in a better mood if we have a change of scene.”

They had walked quite a distance, so that, by the time they made their way back through the woods and along the winding path by the river they had been away more than an hour. Simon noticed the pleased expression on the faces of Helen and Suzette.