Polly Page 11

  ‘Where does she live?’ someone asked.

  ‘Well, with Professor Gervis, but she’s getting married very soon and I don’t know where she’s going then.’

  ‘He’s going to get married too, isn’t he? Perhaps they’ll decide to have a double wedding.’

  Polly said that she thought not. She couldn’t imagine Deirdre sharing her wedding day with anyone, certainly not a girl as pretty as Diana.

  She was ready with time to spare on Tuesday evening, but she stayed in her room, fearful that if she went down into the entrance hall, she might see the Professor. As it was, she judged the time nicely and went through the doors just as Diana drew up by them in her Mini.

  ‘This is fun,’ said Diana as they shot away from the hospital. ‘I’ve missed you, Polly. If I weren’t going to get married very soon I’d make Sam do something about it!’

  Polly judged it sensible not to enquire as to what he might do but asked: ‘Is your fiancé back yet? You did say this week…’

  ‘On Saturday. I’m going up to Heathrow to meet his plane—he’ll stay with us, of course, until we’ve got all our plans settled. He’s got a flat in London and a dear little house on the Thames about ten miles this side of Maidenhead, so we shan’t have to house-hunt. And I bought my wedding dress today; I hadn’t intended to, I’d planned to go to London, but there’s a boutique that’s quite good and I went along to have a look for another cotton dress, and there it was—just what I wanted! You shall see it when we get home. I bought a few more things too—I’ll try them on after dinner. Sam won’t be there, so we can do what we like.’

  Polly swallowed disappointment. Of course he wouldn’t be there; he wouldn’t be there as he would be with Deirdre, making his own plans. She said casually: ‘I expect he’s busy too. Is he getting married after you or before?’

  Diana clashed her gears and made great work of overtaking another car before she answered. ‘I should think it would be soon, knowing him.’

  ‘And Deirdre wants to be married on Midsummer Day, and that’s next week, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not a hope of that,’ said Diana flatly. ‘Now tell me what you think of hospital life.’

  So Polly described her day, leaving out the dull parts and making Diana laugh a good deal over the mistakes she had made. ‘I don’t think I’m going to be much good,’ she said finally.

  ‘Don’t tell me you hanker after your Greek and Latin?’

  ‘Oh, no—the children and babies are great, and when I’ve been there longer I’ll get very interesting jobs to do, not just feeds and moppings up and taking things to the Path Lab.’

  Jeff came to the door as they got out of the car and greeted her with dignified pleasure. ‘A pleasure to see you again, miss, and Bessy says the same. I’ll take in the parcels, Miss Diana, and put the car away. Bessy wants to know if you’d like dinner a little earlier than usual.’

  ‘Yes, please, Jeff. I’m famished and I’m sure Miss Talbot is too. We’ll tidy ourselves and come straight down—ten minutes or so?’

  Polly had the room she had been given previously and someone had put a bowl of early roses on the table by the window. She sniffed at them and stood looking out at the garden below. It was a riot of colour now in the evening sun. Tomorrow morning, before breakfast, she would go down to the little stream; perhaps the dogs would like to go with her.

  The evening passed pleasantly, with Diana prancing around in the clothes she had bought, ending with the wedding dress; seeing her floating round the bedroom in yards of white organza and lace, Polly felt a pang of envy. She smothered it at once; envy got you nowhere, only made you unhappy and discontented. She offered genuine admiration, helped Diana to pack everything away in layers of tissue paper and went downstairs again for more coffee before bedtime.

  She was up early the next morning, wandering round the garden with the dogs, and after breakfast she and Diana played tennis until they were tired, then swam lazily in the pool before lunch, and since it was unusually hot for early June, they lay on the velvet turf behind the house until Jeff brought tea to them. It was just before dinner that Diana was called to the phone; she was gone for several minutes and returned looking pleased with herself. Polly supposed it had been some kind of news about Bob, but presently Diana mentioned that he would be unable to send her a message of any sort until Friday, which left Polly in a fever of curiosity; it might have been from Sam. For the hundredth time she wondered where he was and almost choked herself in her efforts not to ask.

  And Diana didn’t mention him once for the whole of that evening, and although she had a great deal to say about everything under the sun while they lounged in the garden the next day, she had nothing to say about her brother. It turned sultry and dark after lunch and thick clouds began rolling across the horizon. Polly watched them creeping nearer, sure there would be a storm. As they had their tea she said: ‘Look, Diana, how about us leaving earlier than you intended? I hate to go, but the weather’s looking awful and if we went now, you’d be back before the storm breaks—or at least I hope so.’

  But Diana wouldn’t hear of it. ‘What’s a few thunder-claps?’ she wanted to know carelessly. ‘You’ve still got to look at that outfit I bought—the one I’m not sure I like. We’ll do that before dinner and I’ll drive you back directly afterwards.’

  Thunder was growling in the distance as they got into the Mini, and just as Diana switched on Jeff came hurrying out. ‘That’s Mr Sam on the telephone, Miss Diana, he says you’re not to drive Miss Talbot back, but to wait here and he’ll take her later on. He doesn’t like the look of the weather.’

  Polly, who didn’t like the look of it either, heaved a sigh of relief which turned into a soundless groan at Diana’s airy: ‘Tell him I’ve already left, Jeff, say Polly wanted to leave early, insisted on leaving.’

  She waved to the frustrated Jeff and raced down the drive. ‘Well, you did want to leave early, didn’t you, Polly?’ She gave a giggle. ‘And why should he be so fussy suddenly?’

  Polly didn’t reply. She had a nasty feeling that something dire was going to happen, but it wouldn’t be any good arguing with Diana, that young lady, while not bearing any physical resemblance to her brother, had more than her share of his high-handed manner and like him, took it for granted that she should have her own way. All the same, she suggested mildly: ‘Won’t there be less traffic if we go through Evesham and Redditch?’

  ‘I feel like a bit of fast driving, we’ll go up the M5. I’ll be there and back home before Sam gets back.’

  ‘Is he at the hospital?’ asked Polly carelessly.

  ‘He’s got a date with Deirdre, he won’t be home for hours.’ Diana drove some miles in silence while the sky grew darker and darker, split by occasional flashes of lightning. Presently she said: ‘Good, here’s the motorway, now I can put my foot down.’

  Which she did, undeterred by the sudden torrent of rain which blotted out everything ahead of them. It was dark by now and the lights from other cars danced to and fro, distorted in the rainswept windscreen. Diana was going too fast but Polly kept silent. Polly sensed she was not in a mood to be thwarted. She hoped she would slow down when she discovered that Polly was apparently undisturbed. She was doing a steady seventy now and, Polly had to admit, driving superbly. All the same, she was being overtaken and was forced to slow as two cars, far too close, shot past her. They were a hundred yards ahead, barely discernible in the driving rain, when the second car rammed the one ahead. Even above the roar of the rain they heard the screech of torn metal and a moment later saw a sheet of flame.

  ‘Get on to the shoulder and pull up, Diana!’ Polly spoke urgently, her head over her shoulder watching to see how close the following cars were. They should be able to manage it, only they wouldn’t be able to slow down too much or there would be a pile-up. She gave a quick glance ahead; the flames had enveloped both cars and other cars were already tangled, some stopping, some trying to get past.

  ‘I feel sick,�
� said Diana. ‘I’ll have to stop.’

  Polly didn’t waste time talking about it; she leaned across Diana, got her hands on the wheel and her feet clumsily on to the pedals, slowed just a little and got on to the hard shoulder. She wasn’t the only one there, but it seemed the safest place for the moment. Diana was lying back, very white, her eyes closed. ‘Oh, God, I feel ghastly!’ she whispered. ‘Those cars…’

  Polly felt sick herself, but it wouldn’t do for both of them to pass out. ‘Yes, I know—it’s ghastly—they couldn’t have known anything about it, though. The thing is, there’s a right old mess ahead of us; we’re going to be here for a long time. Do you feel a little better?’

  ‘No.’ Diana sounded tearful, but she managed to say: ‘I didn’t know you could drive a car.’

  ‘Well, I’m no good at it, but one of Cora’s boyfriends showed me how and let me drive once or twice.’

  Diana sniffed: ‘What are we going to do, Polly?’

  ‘Wait here. The police will come and sort us out, but they’ve other things to see to first.’ She flinched at the vivid lightning and thunderclap above their heads; thunderstorms made her feel nervous, and the frightful accident she had just seen had reduced her nerves to twanging point. Normally she was a calm, unflappable girl, but when there was a sharp rap on her window she was to be forgiven for giving an instantly suppressed shriek.

  She wound down the window with a shaking hand and the Professor stuck his head inside. There was another flash of lightning as he did so, and all Polly could see of him was a face as dark as the sky above them, his hair plastered to his head, his mouth set grimly.

  He said in a soft furious voice: ‘You see what trouble you’ve caused by your stubborn insistence on leaving? I thought better of you. Is Diana hurt?’ He added even more softly: ‘I should like to wring your neck!’

  Polly turned to look at her. Diana had, unbelievably, gone to sleep. She said: ‘No, she’s not hurt.’ She was still registering his words with a disbelief which didn’t allow her to answer him. She said in a voice as quiet as his own: ‘Is your car here?’

  ‘Yes, a few hundred yards behind this one. As soon as I had Diana’s message I followed you.’

  She uttered her thoughts out loud. ‘You were with Deirdre.’

  ‘Yes. Stay there, I’m going to carry Diana back to the Bentley. Thank God she had the sense to drive on to the hard shoulder. I’ll come back for you presently.’

  ‘There’s no need.’ Polly kept her voice steady, fighting a desire to give way to screaming hysterics. ‘I’ll go along to a police car and get a lift in to the hospital—there’ll be plenty of ambulances.’

  He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Don’t be a little fool—you’ve been the cause of enough trouble as it is. You’ll do as I say.’

  Polly remained silent while he went round the car, opened Diana’s door and lifted her out. She opened her eyes briefly, said: ‘Hullo there,’ and closed them again. Polly envied her; it would be marvellous to go to sleep and wake up to find that she had been having a nightmare.

  She closed the door after the Professor and his burden, picked up her overnight bag, locked the other door and got out; she didn’t dare lock that door too in case Diana hadn’t got the key on her. Through the rain she could see the Professor’s broad back already some distance away, but she didn’t wait, but began to make her way along the side of the motorway until she was level with the smouldering heap of metal, surrounded by a haphazard medley of cars. There was no traffic, of course, so she crossed to the centre of the motorway and went straight to a police car parked there. They were kind and helpful, and although she had to wait while they took her name and where she worked and asked a few questions as to what she had seen, presently she was ushered into the front seat of one of the ambulances. The first to leave, she discovered thankfully, taking two seriously injured men to hospital. She was no sooner perched between the two ambulance men than they were away.

  ‘Nasty smash up, miss,’ commented the driver. ‘You’re a nurse, are you?’

  ‘Yes, a student nurse at the children’s hospital. We were a few hundred yards behind the cars when they crashed.’ Just for a moment Polly felt sick, remembering. ‘It was awful…I suppose the people in the cars…?’

  ‘No chance at all. Quite a few hurt, though; couldn’t stop in time, you see, or braked and had the car behind run into them. In this weather too.’

  The other man asked: ‘On your own, were you, love?’

  ‘No, a friend was driving me, but she’s gone back to her home with her brother, there wasn’t any point in her waiting to take me the rest of the way. They’ll take hours to get the traffic going again, won’t they?’

  ‘You’re right there. Will you be all right if we take you to the General? Can you find your way to the children’s hospital on your own?’

  ‘Oh yes. I’ll be glad of the walk, it’ll make everything more normal.’ Polly smiled with a shaking mouth. ‘I keep thinking of those poor people in the cars.’

  ‘They wouldn’t have known, ducks. You get on back and have a good hot cuppa and then go to bed, you’ll feel better about it in the morning.’

  They had reached the hospital and she wished them a hasty goodbye and thanked them before slipping away. The main streets were close by, so she caught a bus which would take her most of the way and sat, wedged between a thin, ladylike woman and a fat man reading his paper. There was an elderly man with a cross face sitting opposite her; they all three glanced at her and then hastily away, looking irritated. None of them approved of a young woman who cried in public, especially when she made no attempt to stop, just let the tears run down her cheeks. They exchanged indignant glances when she got off the bus and watched her hurry off into the rain.

  She had stopped crying by the time she reached the hospital doors. The porter looked up as she crossed the hall and then came out of his office to speak to her. ‘Nurse Talbot, Professor Gervis phoned—three times—wanting to know if you were here.’ He looked at her blotchy face worriedly. ‘He said there’s been an accident. You’re not hurt? Shall I get Home Sister?’

  ‘No, Griggs, it’s quite all right, thanks. There was an accident on the motorway, just ahead of us, but we got off the road in time. Two cars—they caught fire.’ Polly caught her breath. ‘Quite a few people were hurt because the other cars couldn’t stop or braked too hard. Luckily Professor Gervis was in his car behind us—I was with his sister—her brother took her home and I got a lift in an ambulance. If he should ring again would you tell him I’m back and perfectly all right?’ She managed a smile. ‘Goodnight, Griggs.’

  He went back to his office and rang over to the Nurses’ Home and asked for Home Sister, so that by the time Polly got there, that lady was waiting for her. ‘Tea,’ she said briskly, ‘a warm bath and bed, and you’ll have a sleeping pill whether you want it or not.’

  So Polly sat in Sister’s comfortable room drank cup after cup of tea, then she went over the whole disaster again and presently went to her room, where she was gently fussed over until she was in bed, the pill swallowed, and instructed not to get up in the morning if she felt the least bit poorly.

  But a night’s sleep put her back on her sensible feet once more. She went down to breakfast, a little pale and quiet but glad to work. It was Nurse Honeybun who told her during the morning that Professor Gervis had rung Sister Bates to ask if Polly was on duty and none the worse for her experience. And later, while she was feeding one of the babies, Sister had come and sat down beside her and asked her if she felt all right. ‘Because that was a nasty thing to happen, Nurse, and it takes time to get over the shock, but perhaps you’d rather work?’

  ‘Yes, Sister, I would, and I’m quite all right.’

  ‘Good. Your lecture has been changed this afternoon, it will be at four o’clock instead of the usual time, so come back on to the ward after your dinner and go off duty straight from the lecture room.’

  There was a good deal of talk about the a
ccident during dinner. Polly, sitting with her own set, was deeply grateful to them for not having much to say about it—indeed, they talked, rather selfconsciously, about everything but that, although she was well aware that they were dying to hear about it. She went back to the ward with the kindly Nurse Honeybun and started on the dull job of putting away the clean laundry from the baskets stacked on the landing. At first she had Nurse Honeybun with her, but presently she was called away and Polly went on stacking sheets and towels, endless nappies, baby garments and a miscellany of toddler’s clothes. She was in the linen cupboard, counting bibs, when the door, standing ajar, was pushed open and the Professor came in.

  At the sight of him her heart stopped and then began to dance around beneath her ribs. There was nothing in the blandness of his handsome face to suggest that he was angry, but his eyes were dark and cold. Dear, tiresome, bad-tempered man, she thought lovingly, and at the same time, the sharp memory of the stark anger on his face when he had found them in the car, and the nasty things he had said to her, sparked off her own usually mild temper. If he had come to apologise, she was going to make it difficult for him.

  She couldn’t have been more mistaken. He closed the door behind him and stood looking at her, so that she felt impelled to say something.

  She had herself nicely in hand by now; her voice was its usual pleasant self, if a bit wooden. ‘You want to see Sister, sir? I’ll fetch her.’

  But that was no use; he ignored that. He said in a voice as cold as his eyes: ‘What possessed you to go deliberately against my wishes and persuade Diana to bring you back? The ever-present instinct to annoy me?’

  She sat down on a convenient pile of pillows, her hands tidily in her lap, and stared back at him. So Diana hadn’t told him that it was she who had disregarded his message, in which case there wasn’t anything to be done.

  ‘Is Diana all right?’ she asked, and watched him contain impatient anger.

  ‘She was put to bed and given a sedative, she was sleeping when I went to see her this morning.’ He smiled nastily. ‘Trailing red herrings, Polly? It won’t do, you know.’ He gave her a long intent look. ‘You could have been killed, the pair of you! Even if you don’t drive a car you must know that heavy rain after a dry spell makes the roads treacherous—not only that, you could see for yourself that there was a bad storm breaking, and you prevailed upon Diana to ignore my message!’