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Authors: Marjorie Moore

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BOOK: Honorary Surgeon
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Don

t you think she might also be considering the man

s career?

Mary ventured timidly.


If a man cares sufficiently for a woman, I don

t think that would count.

Mary was glad that he could not see her face. So that was how he felt about it? No doubt he had done his best to persuade Veronica, who, fearful of losing her child, had been obdurate. Strange how dispassionately he had spoken. How surprised he would be, Mary mused, if he imagined that she had guessed his secret.


It

s getting rather late now; do you think we ought to be turning back?

Sir Richard asked.


I suppose we must,

Mary agreed, as she allowed her companion to draw her from the woodland, and lead her back towards the glimmer of water showing between the trees. At the fringe of the forest Sir Richard paused and, releasing Mary

s arm, drew her gently round to face him.


Mary, you will think over what I

ve asked you, won

t you? I

ll be back from my holiday in three weeks. Will you give me your answer then? Another thing, Mary; if, while I

m away, you are unhappy, if I can help, you

ll let me know, won

t you?

Mary was again amazed at the emotion in his voice, but it must be her imagination playing tricks, she assured herself, for since she had come to know how deeply she loved this man, every word he uttered had taken on a new meaning. Every change of tone, every flicker of those expressive dark eyes, held some new significance.


I will let you know, I promise.


May I seal that promise?

And, before Mary was aware of his intention, Sir Richard had stooped and, placing his arms around her, he pressed a kiss on her for
e
head. At the contact of his lips, it was as if a flame had touched her. Mary

s instinct was to pull away, to drag herself from his grasp and run, run anywhere so long as she could escape from the emotion which threatened to overwhelm her.


You didn

t mind, did you?

Sir Richard released his hold, and slipped his arm again through hers.

It was just meant to seal a bargain, a bargain that means rather a lot to me.

He smiled apologetically.

I wouldn

t have dared do it if you hadn

t assured me that Noel was out of the running,

he ended, laughing
.

Mary could not trust herself to answer. Her head whirled, and she felt dazed. What was that he had said? He could kiss her with impunity as Noel was a disinterested party? That was all very well. Noel didn

t count with her, nobody counted
...
Richard was the only man in the world, but what about him, and—yes—what about Veronica?

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

The ring of the alarm clock
awoke Mary from a deep sleep. With a mechanical gesture she stretched out her hand and switched off the bell, and, scarcely waiting to regain full consciousness, sprang from her bed. From previous experience Mary had learned the folly of indulging in the luxury of a final laze. If she didn

t get up immediately, every moment that passed made the decision more difficult. Her
first action was to pull back the cretonne curtain from the window and allow the soft light of early morning to penetrate the little room. She was glad to see the blue sky heralding a fine day, for today was the annual bazaar at the hospital, the great event of the year. When the weather was fine, the fete was held in the hospital grounds, which were neither expansive nor beautiful, but with bunting decorating the grey walls of the various buildings, and the stalls tastefully arranged, the whole effect was quite attractive. The sisters superintended the organization, and the nurses did their share of the work as stallholders, collectors, and guides to those

guests who were interested in seeing the various departments of the hospital.

Mary and Joan Howe were two of those who had been detailed to attend to the refreshment tent erected in the grounds. Mary was thankful to see the sunshine, as wet weather doomed all the stalls to be crowded into the great hall, and the refreshments relegated to an entirely inadequate space.

As Mary dressed, her mind was occupied with the coming happenings of the afternoon. It seemed rather a shame to hold the fete as late as September, but during the summer months everyone was away on holiday, so September had always been considered the best time, as by then everyone had settled down again to a year of work.

Sir Richard, too, would be back
...
Mary dried her face with unnecessary vigor ... he would turn up for the bazaar today; none of the honoraries ever missed it. That and the Christmas dance were the two social gatherings at which their presence was not only invited, but expected. It would be Sir Richard

s first appearance at the hospital since his holiday. Mary hadn

t seen him again since that evening.


Hallo! You

re early too.

Joan Howe

s voice greeted Mary from the doorway.

I

ve brought you in some tea,
I just couldn

t sleep this morning. I

ve been up quite half an hour already, so I thought I

d make a pot.


Oh, lovely!

Mary exclaimed.

Just let me strip this bed and then I

ll find some biscuits. I

ve got a tin somewhere. It

ll be fine not having to go down to breakfast. It

s quite early; we

ll have time for a cigarette too.


O.K.! I

ll go and get some cups while you fix the table. I might manage to scrounge some bread and butter from the dining-room, if I dash down now,

Joan suggested.


No, don

t bother. I think biscuits will be more appetizing.

Joan was soon back with the crockery. She had also managed to secure a large jug of milk, butter, and two rolls. She laid them on the table with the air of a conjurer producing a rabbit.

What do you think of that?

she demanded proudly.


My dear! It

s marvellous! Wherever have they come from?

Mary exclaimed in amazement.


You forget, today we entertain, and, however meagrely we feed our staff, visitors must be considered!

Joan explained with amusement.

I was going across to the dining-room past the refreshment marquee. Provisions were just arriving. I grabbed a couple of rolls from a tray that one of the men was bringing in. He must have thought I was mad, but I hopped off too quickly for him to find out! The butter and milk I got from the dining
room. How about that for staff work?

Mary poured out the tea while she joined in her friend

s laughter.

It certainly is a royal breakfast.

She paused a moment while she buttered a roll.

I say, Joan, what did the refreshments look like?


I couldn

t, see much; there were only wooden trays visible, but plenty of those, anyhow.

Joan took a large bite of roll, and, with mouth full, continued:

I like the idea of serving refreshments; I think we

ve got the best pitch, if you ask me. Last year the buffet made more money than any stall. Funny how well food always goes, isn

t it?

She giggled.


This roll

s going down jolly well,

Mary countered.

The best roll I

ve tasted for years. When I sell one this afternoon I shall remember this delectable breakfast, and want to charge at least half a guinea each!


We haven

t been told prices yet, have we?

Joan demanded more seriously.

I believe there is a fixed price for

set tea,

and anything you like to charge for odd brinks and such-like.

Joan looked up at her friend above the rim of the cup.

I

m an awful fool at carrying trays. I do hope I don

t spill a large jug of
c
offee over the most important member of the governing board, and ruin his pinstriped trousers,

she added mournfully.


Men never mind a little mishap like that. It

s the women I

m scared of,

Mary admitted.

Think of tipping up a pot of jam over a governor

s fat wife!


All the same, I thoroughly enjoy these affairs. It gives one a glimpse into the honoraries

private lives. I shall never forget the year
...
don

t you remember, when Mellish, the senior physician at the time, turned up with a perfectly awful woman? Matron said so sweetly how nice it was to meet his mother, and she was his wife all the time
.

Mary smiled.

Yes, I remember, but the last Christmas dance was the funniest, when Sister Tudor spent the whole evening being amiable to some woman she thought was Sir Richard

s mother, and who turned out to be an elderly aunt of one of the pros!


Sir Richard will be here today, I suppose. He must be back, because he starts work again tomorrow,

Joan commented. She looked up, and stared at her friend.

Will you be glad?

The question was unexpected, and Mary was momentarily taken aback.

Why should I be? Of course, it

s nice to have him back,

she contradicted herself quickly.


Silly old duffer, aren

t you?

With which cryptic remark Joan jumped to her feet.

Come on, we

d better clear up now; it

s quarter to eight.

The morning was one long rush. The staff, which of necessity would be curtailed throughout: the afternoon, were working at top speed so as to leave everything in order for the few unfortunates who were compelled to remain on duty. Luncheon was served earlier than usual, and by two o

clock the courtyard was a bevy of hurrying nurses. The bazaar opened at three, and, before then, there were stalls to arrange, and everything else to be prepared for the visitors. By dint of much hard work all was in readiness when the massive iron gates of the hospital were thrown open at the arranged time. A few arrivals drifted in as soon as the gates were opened, but i
t
was not until the afternoon was more advanced that the crowds arrived.

Joan and Mary, with two probationers helping, were fairly slack at their buffet at first, but, as Joan laughingly asserted, although the marquee might be a neglected spot at the beginning of the afternoon, the trouble was that all their rush would come at once. She was right. By four o

clock the marquee was full, and even four pairs of hands could scarcely cope with the incessant demand for food and drinks.

Mary brought her tray back to the counter for its next load.

Three complete teas, two lemon squashes, and a packet of biscuits.

She gave the order to her friend, who, still fearful of a mishap with a tray, had volunteered to stay in comparative safety behind the counter.

Joan hastened to collect the order.

You

ll have to wait a minute for the tea; I

ve just sent away two urns to be refilled.

She wiped her hand across her forehead.

Gosh, this is hot work. I

ll turn into a drop of boiling water myself soon,

she groaned.


Let me do that for a bit; it

s not nearly so hot just delivering the goods, really it isn

t,

Mary assured her friend.

Do try for a bit,

she begged.


Not on your life! I

ve been watching you. You

re a born waitress. I

ve never seen anyone balance a tray better. You don

t get me out there.

She attended to the arrival of a fresh urn, and began to fill a teapot.

Here you are, and don

t come back too soon. I

ve hundreds of cups to wash up before we can serve any more.

She turned to her helper behind the buffet.

Here, Jones, for heaven

s sake come and collect these cups.

Mary threaded her way again between the crowds, and, from where she had taken the orders, placed the teas on the tables.

Nurse! Nurse!

Fresh demands came from all sides, and, rushing round to receive their requests, Mary decided that, however hard was the life of a nurse, nothing would persuade her to become a waitress. As is usual at a bazaar, the visitors were good-tempered, which was fortunate, as during the hour

s rush Mary was certain that, far from taking orders in rotation, some people were served immediately while others must have been waiting patiently for the best part of an hour.


Mary!

Just her name, called from among the throng, caused her to pause, while a sudden attack of trembling attacked her knees. She was grateful that her tray was empty, as her hands, following the example of her knees, became nerveless and out of control. Slowly, almost unconsciously, Mary turned in the direction whence the word had come.


Mary; if you

re not too busy, I should like to introduce you to my mother.

Sir Richard stood up as he spoke, and indicated the other occupant of the table set for two.

Mary approached, and felt her hand taken by the slender one of a small, frail woman.

I

ve heard about you from my son. Mary Grant, isn

t it?

A pair of misted blue eyes stared into Mary

s, while the faded rose tint
in the older woman

s cheeks deepened, as her lips smiled.

You are very busy; we mustn

t keep you talking here, but later
...
perhaps you will have time?

The voice was almost wistful as Lady Alymer asked the question.


Of course ... but now, won

t you let me get you some tea?

Before Lady Alymer could reply, Sir Richard answered the question.

You

ve plenty to do; I

ll get it at the counter.

Without further demur, Mary let him have his way, and hurried along to attend to the thirsty masses still clamouring around her. But she had lost her former skill, and the orders, only half heard, were neither so well nor so carefully executed as earlier. Mary realized that her mind was no longer whole-heartedly on the job in hand. Seeing Sir Richard again, after more than three weeks, had reawakened in Mary all the emotions she had suffered at their last meeting. His voice, every familiar movement of his hands, the flickering expressions that crossed his face, everything about him, aroused in her again that overwhelming love that hurt in its intensity. Her first glimpse of his mother had been something of a shock. Somehow she had expected her to be tall, perhaps arrogant, and certainly a striking person. Why she should have visualized Lady Alymer so she had no idea, but it was difficult to believe that the fragile creature with her faded prettiness was so closely related to Sir Richard. Mary was forced to admit that Lady Alymer

s appearance had been a pleasant surprise. There was something infinitely appealing about her transparent fairness, and the silvery white of her hair. Mary was forced to admit that the job of companion to such a woman might be a luxury, and, as she considered herself in such a position, a longing overcame her, a longing which she thrust back; she could never dare contemplate a job offered, as it must have been, in a spirit of chivalry.

Towards half past five the tent began to empty, and Mary was glad of the rest thus afforded her. She joined the other helpers behind the counter and snatched a cup of tea herself. There
w
ere still a few people at the tables smoking a leisurely cigarette, but Mary

s gaze strayed to the corner. Yes, Sir Richard and his mother were still there; even as her glance wandered in their direction, Sir Richard beckoned her over.


Joan!

Mary whispered.

Sir Richard wants me to meet his mother; I

ll slip over there for a moment. I think the rush is really over now.


We can manage all right. Go on; you

d better go; he

s signing to you now.

Sir Richard advanced to meet her.

If you

re not too tired, mother would love to see over the hospital. Could you manage to take her?


Of course I could.

Mary smiled at the older woman.

Would you like to come now?


I

ll meet her here again in half an hour. I

ve promised to have a word with one of the governors. Don

t take her too far.

He gave a tender glance at the old lady.

She

s not very good at stairs, but I think the new X-ray department might interest her, and perhaps

light,

and that will be about enough.


You mind your own business, young man,

Lady Alymer chided him gently.

Miss Grant will look after me, won

t you dear?

She turned again to her son.

We don

t need any orders; I

ll be quite safe in her hands.

BOOK: Honorary Surgeon
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