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Authors: Marjorie Moore

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There I have to admit you are justified.

Jill stopped speaking abruptly. She longed almost unbearably to tell him of the overwhelming odds which seemed to have conspired against her since her arrival at St. Joseph

s. Her suspicion of Brenda Ma
l
ling

s complicity in her failure to make good, her own sense of bitter disappointment and frustration. With a supreme effort she choked back the words which trembled on her lips, chiding herself for her own weakness as she recalled the scorn which would probably greet her disclosure, and the satirical twist which would no doubt replace the sympathetic expression on Duncan McRey

s face. She mustn

t be too easily moved by this rare show of understanding. Linking her fingers together on her lap she looked up to meet his questioning gaze.

I know that you have
had
every right to be disappointed in me
,

she repeated.


I suppose that I must be satisfied with that admission—unsatisfactory as it is.

His steel-blue eyes caught and held her gaze in a remorseless stare.

One thing you must realize—that is, if you decide to remain at St. Joseph

s—expect no quarter from me, inefficiency and carelessness I cannot and will not tolerate.

Jill was conscious of a deep sense of apprehension. She felt an almost uncontrollable urge to ignore Harriet

s appeal and inform Duncan McRey without delay that he need concern himself ho longer with her shortcomings, that she would soon be shaking the dust of St. Joseph

s from her heels. The words froze on her lips, an innate sense of pride restrained her, and she knew she longed before all else to justify herself in this man

s eyes. It seemed utterly unreasonable
.
Why should she care? Except that she

d be giving up a good job, it meant nothing to her, she insisted. But in her heart she felt that was not the true reason for her silence.


We should be going. Are you rested?

The question roused Jill from the despondency into which her thoughts had momentarily plunged her. She gave an involuntary shiver, as some inexplicable fear held her in grip.


You must be cold, you are shivering.

Duncan McRey rose quickly to his feet, then taking Jill

s hands pulled her up from the seat.

I shouldn

t have let you sit so long, it was thoughtless of me.

He slipped an arm beneath her elbow as, emerging from the shelter of the wall, the wind whipped against their backs, causing Jill

s skirt to billow round her knees, and turning back the heavy flaps of Duncan McRey

s mackintosh.

It was a short walk from the front to the more sheltered paths across the hills, and far easier walking. Duncan McRey had dropped his arm from hers and their steps quickened as the force of the wind abated. It was perhaps not so exhilarating as the sea front, but much as Jill had enjoyed the outward journey, she was not sorry for the present lull. There seemed to be storm enough in her own chaotic thoughts without being buffeted by the gale as well.


Thank you for seeing me back—and for the walk too. It was wonderful.

Jill held out her hand as they reached the hospital gates.


I enjoyed it too.

He dug into his pocket and returned Jill

s bag, then, extending his hand, he took hers in a firm grip.

Good night.

As she crossed the lawn to the Sisters

Home her hand tingled from that hand-clasp, but it was a curiously warming and pleasant sensation. Had it been meant as a show of friendship? ... she slipped quietly past the Sisters

lounge to the privacy of her own room; she still longed for solitude and her own thoughts. Locking her door, Jill sank down on the corner of her bed and pulled off her gloves. Then, her hands free, she untied the knotted scarf from her head. She

d forgotten to return it! Jill

s cheeks dimpled into a smile as, spreading it across her knees, she folded the soft material, carefully smoothing out the creases with her fingers. Unconsciously her mind drifted back to that moment when Duncan McRey had tied it beneath her chin. It had been a kindly thought
... Jill sighed. What an odd person he was; somehow so difficult to hate, but quite impossible to feel indifferent about. That only left the other extreme—love
...
She found herself laughing softly at the thought. As far as she was concerned, that extreme was unthinkable, so it was up to her to find some middle course.

 

CHAPTER
SIX

So
closely did Jill
watch her own and Brenda
Malling

s movements during the following days that she began to feel that much more

sleuthing

would qualify her for a special job in the C.I..D! She didn

t allow the slightest detail to escape her notice, watched everything her Staff Nurse did with an eagle eye, and sooner than take any risks, undertook any special job herself rather than call upon Brenda

s help. It was tedious and heavy going, but was at least proving worthwhile, inasmuch as it gave her a better grip on the general running of her ward, and was also proving to her junior that not only would she not be trifled with, but that she was determined to stand her ground against any opposition.

J
ill glanced at the
clock
on her desk. Another ten minutes before visitors were due to leave. How she dreaded these visiting days; it was the same in every children

s ward at every hospital. Naturally they had to be tolerated, but, oh dear! the tears and tantrums they brought in their wake. She rose from her desk with a sigh. She supposed she

d better make her appearance on the ward and face, the bombardment of questions, from the dozens of anxious parents, which were no doubt awaiting her. On the whole, thank goodness, she hadn

t any ill tidings to report and she could be reasonably cheerful to all and sundry. Baby Williams

prognosis remained doubtful; still, she

d done better since she

d been in an oxygen tent, and Dr. McRey had
b
een far more satisfied that morning
...
Mary Miles was surely progressing a little, too. It was a slow, uphill job and the child seemed to have such low resistance...


Oh, Sister, can I have a word with you?

A thin, neat young woman approached Jill as she entered the ward and forestalling other anxious parents buttonholed Jill in the doorway.

It

s about Mary—she is better, isn

t she?


I think she is.

Jill responded reassuringly, steering the girl across the ward back to Mary Miles

bedside.

Dr. McRey seems far more satisfied, and has, for the moment anyway, given up the idea of operating.


I

m glad of that.

Mrs. Miles wiped her hand across her eyes, which were suspiciously moist.

I signed that paper when Mary came in saying that I didn

t mind them operating, but do you know, I just can

t bear the very thought.

As they reached the bed where Mary lay propped up against high pillows, the mother leaned over, smiling fondly.

She looks better; I

m sure she does. Nearly ready to come home with Mum, aren

t you, duckie?

she asked, stroking the child

s hair with an even, soothing movement.


Yes.

The child looked up, her forehead puckered into a frown.

want to come home, but the kitchen is always so hot. It

s nice here if only you stayed with me
...

She turned on her pillow to smile at Jill.

New Sister is so nice, and I love Doctor too.


So you are in love with me, are you, young woman?

Jill stood back in astonishment as she saw Duncan McRey approach the bed. It certainly was a surprise to see him, he usually kept well away from the ward during visiting hours. He turned towards Jill and addressed her in lowered tones.

I thought I

d better come over. I have got to discuss the matter of a convalescent home for that boy on the end bed. Are his parents here?


Yes, sir ... Would you like me to bring them along to my office now?


Please, Doctor, before you go
...”
Mrs. Miles, unwilling to let such an opportunity slip, laid a detaining hand on his arm.

Mary is better, isn

t she? I was
tellin
g Sister how glad I am she is getting on so well.


She is doing all right,

he responded briefly, then giving a playful pull at Mary

s curly hair, added,

You are fine, aren

t you?


... but please, Doctor,

Mrs. Miles persisted anxiously as Duncan McRey was about to turn away.

She is going to get better, isn

t she. I mean, I

ll be having her back before long?

The question was fraught with an anxiety she was unable to conceal.


Widow, aren

t you?—if I remember rightly, husband died of tubercle?

He took the notes from the folder at the foot of the bed, and scanning them, went on,

I remember now, you work in a restaurant or something, don

t you?

awaiting her reply, he went on,

What happens to the
child while you

re working?


She plays around the kitchen with me. Mr. Grant, that

s the boss; doesn

t mind. She

s at school most times, except of course when she

s poorly,

she amended with a sigh.


A hot kitchen is no place for that child. Isn

t there a garden or a yard or something?

he demanded, replacing
the notes.


No, there

s nothing like that; the back yard is used to park cars now. I

ve often wished there was some other place Mary could play
...

Mrs. Miles broke off,
th
en added,

It

s not so easy to pick and choose a job when, you

ve a child. It isn

t everyone wants children, not that
Mary isn’t a well-brought-up child...”


The steamy atmosphere of a kitchen is no place for Mary. We

ll have to see about it later,

he interrupted, then turned away before Mrs. Miles could detain him further.

With no
tim
e
to offer more consolation than a reassuring smile in Mrs. Miles

direction, Jill hurried to follow him
from the ward.

Duncan McRey made short word of the next interview, and Jill was seeing him from the room when she ventured a protest.

Poor Mrs. Miles. You might have been a little kinder; you have left her in a complete state of dejection, and she was worried sick about Mary at it was.


I don

t understand. I didn

t say anything.

Jill gave a low laugh.

That

s just it, you didn

t say anything, and the poor dear was longing for just one word of assurance, she is so anxious to do her best for the child.

It was obvious to Jill that no one had so far had the temerity to tackle the Honorary on the delicate matter of parents; he gave such sympathy and understanding to the children, surely a little could be spared for the harassed parents too.


I hope I made her see the impossibility of boxing that child up in a steamy atmosphere when she leaves here. If I

ve only done that much it will be some good.


Yes, sir, I know you are right about that.
I’ll
discuss the question again with her later and see if she can

t get a more suitable job.

Duncan McRey had certainly been more amenable to her protest than Jill would have believed possible, and it was with some sense of
a
chievement that she returned to the ward to supervise the children

s teas. It was, as she had expected, in some uproar after the visitors

departure, and most of the staff were occupied caj
o
ling the children back into a more normal state of mind
.


I

ve taken your tea into the office,

Brenda
Malling
addressed Jill.

Dr. Traven is there. He is waiting, to see you.

The words were politely spoken, but did not disguise the underlying note of surliness which rarely left Brenda

s voice when she addressed Jill, and was invariably present when Philip Traven

s name came into the conversation.


Hallo, Philip.

Jill sank into a chair at her desk.

Those children! It

s like Bedlam in the ward, it takes hours to get them quietened; in fact, they just settle down again nicely when it

s visiting day again! There doesn

t seem anything more disturbing to a sick child than a doting parent!


Poor Jill, you really do look tired.

Philip appraised Jill as she turned towards him, a steaming cup of tea in her hand.


I

m all right. I suppose you want some tea. In fact, I expect that

s what you came for. Even in your student days you were always hanging round the ward at meal times!


What a libel.

Philip helped himself to a buttered scone.

Actually, I didn

t come here to tea at all. I came to speak to you. When is your long week-end—pretty well due isn

t it?


Next week-end, if you must know.

Jill drank her tea appreciatively, but refused the scones which her companion handed her.

I

m going down to Brent Towers. I ought to have had a day in town for some Christmas shopping, but Terry—you know, the little step-brother I told you about—seems so anxious to see me. I used to get home quite a lot when I worked in London; it

s difficult now, and I think he misses me.


That

s a pity. I

ve got some time off myself, and I was going to suggest that we went up to town and did a show together. Of course, if you

d like to offer me an invitation to Brent Towers, I

d run you over on Friday in the M.G., but I

d have to come back the following evening. You

d do the journey far more quickly than by our famous local line!

He smiled at Jill persuasively.

It

d be quite like old times!


It

s certainly like old times to hear you cadging an invitation to the Towers!

Jill laughed.

And typical of you to bribe me with a lift by car, and then leave me to find my own way back on Sunday night by train which you so rightly scorn.


That sounds as though you were going to let me come, then?


I can scarcely refuse, can I? Anyway, Mother and Trevor will be delighted, you were always a great favourite with them, and they were genuinely sorry when you took yourself off to that appointment in the North and stopped visiting us. Mother still says that her parties are not the same without you.


Good for Lady Hallard! I shall never forget how
nice she used to be to me.

Philip

s voice took on a more serious note.

When my parents first settled abroad, I missed all the fun we always had at home
...
and then I met you at Baldwin

s and you took pity on my loneliness and invited me to Brent Towers. That first occasion was your birthday, I remember, and there was the most wonderful dance, with a

hot jazz

band from London, and the grounds were decorated with coloured lights and there were the most glamorous girls...

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