The Silver Thaw Page 8

  And the next day was just as bad, workwise, although this time Tom was free and had left a message for her to meet him that evening. She bathed and changed into the new suit, covered it with the long chunky knitted coat which looked so simple and had cost her a small fortune, and went down to the residents’ car park. Tom was waiting for her and because she was still feeling unsettled it annoyed her that he stayed sitting behind the wheel until she was beside him. His hullo was friendly and the kiss he gave her was affectionate, and she was horrified to find herself comparing it with Gideon’s kiss. Of course, she told herself hastily, Gideon was probably in the habit of kissing any girl he met, which would account for his expertise.

  ‘Sorry about yesterday,’ said Tom, ‘but we’re a bit shorthanded at the moment. I knew you’d understand. The senior house physician offered to take over, but there are one or two tricky cases and I thought it best to do the duty myself.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say that he might have handed over for an hour, half an hour even—after all, the other man was qualified and from what she’d heard of him, he was pretty good too. But she had never interfered with Tom’s work and she didn’t mean to start now. She assured him that she understood and asked where they were going.

  He smiled at her. ‘That quiet little place off the Brompton Road. I’ve a great deal to tell you.’

  Her heart quickened its beat. The holiday together had decided him, and he was going to marry her soon; she would be able to settle down to being a housewife-cum-theatre-Sister and once they were married she had every intention of persuading him to let her be just a housewife. She agreed happily and sat chatting on and off while he drove to the restaurant.

  It wasn’t until they had had their soup, their lemon sole and were half way through their pudding that Tom said suddenly: ‘I’ve got a job!’

  Amelia put down her fork. She had been hard put to it to keep a light conversation going, but she had been determined not to ask any questions. She smiled across the table, her eyebrows raised to a question.

  ‘In Australia,’ he added.

  ‘Australia? So far? When?’

  ‘I go in a month.’

  She stared at him stupidly. ‘But how can you? Don’t you have to give three months’ notice?’

  ‘Only a month—you forget I finished my three years’ contract several months ago.’

  Amelia managed a normal voice. ‘What part of Australia?’

  ‘Perth. A marvellous new hospital with unlimited scope...’ His eyes were shining at the thought.

  She said faintly, repeating herself. ‘But, Tom, it’s so far away. Father... Is it for long?’

  ‘Five years.’

  She struggled to gather her woolly wits. ‘And you accepted without saying a word to me?’

  ‘Well, as a matter of fact, they won’t take a married man. But that’s O.K.; you can go on working here and at the end of my contract I should most certainly get a consultant’s appointment, when we could be married.’

  ‘You mean,’ said Amelia slowly, ‘that I’m to stay here until it’s—it’s convenient for us to marry? Tom, in five years I’ll be thirty-two! We’ve been engaged ages already.’ She gulped back tears and steadied her voice with some effort. ‘Look, Tom, don’t I mean anything to you? Don’t you love me? So much that you’d give up everything for me if I asked?’ The words, so well remembered, tumbled out of her mouth. ‘Cherish me until your last breath?’

  Tom was looking at her in utter amazement, his nice face a mixture of embarrassment and dismay. ‘My dear Amelia, what are you waffling on about? That’s silly girl’s talk. I thought better of you; you’re a sensible young woman.’

  She whispered fiercely: ‘I’m not, I’m not—and soon I won’t be young any more. Oh, Tom, what about children and making a home together and having a dog and a cat and going out for picnics on Sundays...’

  His embarrassment was tinged with impatience now. ‘Look, dear, you’ve had a surprise. Let’s go back to St Ansell’s and you have a good night’s sleep and in the morning you’ll see it in a rational light.’

  She tried just once more. ‘Tom, won’t you look for a job in England? For my sake?’

  He smiled kindly. ‘You know how important my work is to me.’

  ‘More important than I am?’

  He considered that carefully. ‘That’s hard to answer, but in a way, if I must be honest—yes, it is.’

  There really wasn’t any more to say, not just then. ‘Well, let’s go back,’ she said quietly.

  They drove through the busy streets while Tom told her of his plans, and she wasn’t in any of them, she noted sadly, but then she couldn’t expect to be, not for five years. He parked the car at the back of the hospital and they went in through a side door and because there were a good many people about he didn’t do more than pat her on the shoulder and tell her, once again, to have a good night’s sleep.

  Amelia said good-night very quietly because now wasn’t the time to talk; she had to marshal her thoughts and her arguments first, and she could do that during the night.

  Chapter FIVE

  THE NIGHT DIDN’T prove long enough. Amelia was heavy-eyed from lack of sleep when she went down to breakfast and was hard put to it to make a joking reply when someone at her table remarked that she looked as though she had been quarrelling with Tom all night. ‘There’s a rumour going round that he’s got himself a super job in Australia—is it true, Amelia?’

  She answered that yes, it was, with composure, and contrived to give a vague answer to the rain of questions as to her own future. Everyone seemed to take it for granted that she and Tom would marry before he left, or if not that, then she would go with him and get married when they arrived.

  ‘Well, nothing’s settled yet,’ she told them evasively. ‘We’ve not really had the time to talk it over...’

  ‘That means you’ll get married in a rush here or in jeans and a straw hat in some awful bush station or whatever,’ moaned Jean Hawkins, one of her closest friends and Sister on Men’s Medical, ‘and I did so want to be a bridesmaid!’

  Amelia managed a good-natured laugh. ‘Go on with you, you know you’d rather be the bride, any day,’ a remark which set the table laughing so that for the moment they forgot to ask her any more questions.

  It was a mercy that Mr Godwin was operating that morning. He worked his way placidly through a lengthy list, talking in his calm way, not seeming to notice her brief replies, making sure that everyone stopped for coffee during the morning and never turning a hair when one of the nurses slipped and dropped a small tray of instruments. Amelia, whose nerves were stretched like taut elastic, had a hard job not to turn on the hapless girl and tear her in pieces; as it was she said woodenly: ‘Pick up everything, Nurse, get them washed and autoclaved and then fetch me the spare set from the end cupboard.’ She couldn’t stop herself saying sharply: ‘And be quick, please!’

  Everyone looked at her because she was never anything but calm and good-tempered in theatre, but no one said anything.

  She didn’t go down to her dinner but had a sandwich in the office, giving the excuse that there was a gynae list starting at half past one and she really hadn’t the time. That she had two perfectly adequate staff nurses on duty to lay up seemed to have escaped her notice; she went into the little room and shut the door and tried to decide when she would see Tom again and what she would say to him when she did.

  By the time she went off duty at five o’clock she was quite decided. She had thought out all the rational things to say and she was going to ask him just once more if he would give up the new job in favour of something nearer home. And she had got over the shock of it now; she could think clearly once more and she had no intention of weeping or anything silly like that.

  It was a pity that Tom rang her just before she left
the theatre to say that his chief had asked him to dinner so that he could hear all about the new post. ‘When are you off tomorrow?’ asked Tom cheerfully.

  ‘I’m on at ten o’clock.’

  ‘Oh, lord, that means you won’t be available until the evening—let’s meet for a drink then? How about the Lamb and Garter? I’ll wait for you by the porter’s lodge—about eight o’clock. See you then.’

  He hadn’t asked her if she had slept, or how she felt, he hadn’t mentioned the new job. Her faint hope that he might have had second thoughts about it faded away. She sat looking at the phone, wishing that there was someone she could talk to about it. Perhaps she was being selfish and unreasonable, but if Tom could make a momentous decision like that without saying a word to her wasn’t that a bad augury for the future? And was she so unreasonable to mind being left behind for five years? She found herself wishing that Gideon was there, sitting opposite her, listening to all that she had to say and never mind if he mocked her a little or made unanswerable remarks. At least he would listen and tell her what to do.

  She got to her feet and left the theatre, calling good-night to the staff nurse as she went. The evening stretched aimlessly before her and if she went to the sitting room she would be bombarded with questions. ‘I’ll have a headache,’ she muttered, ‘and go to bed early.’

  As it turned out she slept, for she was very tired and when she woke in the morning everything seemed all right. She would be able to talk Tom round; he could find another job easily enough. He was a good doctor and if only he would accept a loan from her father he could buy a partnership and they could settle down and live happily. And forget Gideon, said a tiny voice somewhere in the back of her head. She brushed it aside; his memory was only persistent because he had said one or two strange things to her—he had been joking, of course, when he had suggested that she should marry him. It wasn’t quite as easy to brush aside the memory of his kiss, because it had disturbed her greatly, but once she and Tom were married, she would forget the whole episode.

  She went through a busy day quite happily, hurried over her supper and changed into one of her pretty dresses and the thick knit coat. She looked enchanting as she flew down the stairs and through the hospital; her cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled and even Tom’s quiet: ‘Hullo, Amelia, you look a bit het up,’ didn’t make any difference. She took his arm although he didn’t really like her to and they went out of the hospital gates and down the road for a little way to the Lamb and Garter. The bar was packed, but they found a table jammed up against a wall and sat down and Tom went to get their drinks—a pint of bitter for him and a sherry for Amelia, which was what they always had. She found herself wishing that he would have come back with two champagne cocktails or even whisky, just by way of a change, although she didn’t care for whisky at all and champagne cocktails, in her experience, were reserved for weddings and christenings and engagement parties.

  ‘Did you have a nice evening?’ she asked him as he sat down beside her.

  ‘Oh, splendid. Old Coles’—his chief—‘was out in Perth himself about ten years ago; he was able to give me a lot of tips.’

  ‘You’re really going, then?’ She tried to make her voice bright.

  ‘Well, of course I am—I told you so the other evening. We had it all arranged...’

  ‘No,’ she corrected him quietly, ‘you mean you had it all arranged. I had no say in the matter, Tom.’

  He looked at her uneasily. ‘Look here, Amelia, let’s get this settled once and for all. This is a super job and I intend to take it...’

  ‘For five years—five years, Tom, that’s ages! In that time you could meet another girl you wanted to marry, I might meet another man, or I’ll grow into a bachelor girl and not want to marry you after all.’

  He asked patiently: ‘So what do you suggest?’

  ‘Oh, Tom, you know already!’ Her eager voice shook a little; so much depended on his answer. ‘If you would get a partnership or another registrar’s post at a good hospital somewhere in England, so we could get married. I’ll go on working if you really want me to...’

  It wasn’t going to be any good; her voice faltered and died. For something to do she took a sip of sherry and then recklessly tossed off the lot; she was going to need it.

  Tom put down his tankard. He said in his reasonable way: ‘Amelia, nothing is going to make me change my mind, you must try and understand—this is important to me.’

  ‘More important than I am.’ She wanted to cry, but it would never do to make a fool of herself in the Lamb and Garter. ‘Tom, do you mind if we go?’

  ‘We’ve only just got here.’

  She stared at him for a long moment. He expected her to sit there until he had finished his beer; he didn’t mind that he was breaking her heart. She slid the ring off her third finger and laid it on the table beside him and got to her feet. She had slipped through the crowded bar and was out of the door before Tom grasped what she had done. It took her no time at all to reach the hospital; within ten minutes she had gained her room, torn off her clothes and run a bath. If she was going to have a good cry she might as well be warm while she was having it.

  She didn’t see Tom at all during the next day, which was just as well, for she was in no fit state to talk to him and the following day she had, fortunately, her two days off.

  She drove herself home after being on duty all day and arrived late in the evening to be fussed over by Badger and Bonny. Her father was out to dinner, they told her as Badger took her case, poured her a sherry and assured her that Bonny would have a tasty little supper ready for her within half an hour. It was soothing to be looked after with so much affection. It also made her feel tearful again, so she drank another glass of sherry, ate her supper because otherwise Bonny would want to know why she hadn’t, and then settled by the fire to await her father’s return.

  He was late, so late in fact that Amelia was dozing when he came into the room and only woke to the sound of his efforts to be quiet and not disturb her.

  As soon as he saw that she was awake he bent to kiss her. ‘Hullo, my dear, nice to see you, so soon too—if I’d known you were coming I’d have cried off my dinner party. I thought you said you’d not be home until next week.’

  She sat up, pushing her hair away from her face. ‘I did, Father, only something’s happened. Tom and I—we’re not going to get married.’

  Her father leant forward and patted her hand. ‘My dear, I’m sorry, but not surprised.’

  ‘Oh, aren’t you? He’s got a job in Australia, rather a special one in Perth, only they don’t want a married man, so he—he accepted a contract for five years and I was supposed to stay here until he got another job.’

  ‘Still working, I take it?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Two tears trickled down her cheeks and she wiped them away impatiently. ‘Father, am I being very selfish? I just can’t face five years of theatre and living like a nun—and suppose he finds someone else out there? What would I do?’

  ‘You did quite right, Amelia. Five years is a hazard in such circumstances. There aren’t many men who would be prepared...’ He paused. ‘No, that’s not quite true, once in a lifetime one meets a man and a woman who are willing to wait for the whole of their lives, but that’s because they love each other so deeply that nothing else really counts. But that’s not you and Tom, my dear.’

  Amelia said indignantly: ‘Father, I’m broken-hearted—I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

  ‘Yes, of course you are, just for the time, and never mind about worrying what you’re going to do. Drift, my dear, drift, meet each day as it comes, go out, make yourself take an interest in life.’ He sighed. ‘I only wish your mother were here, Amelia, she would know exactly how to say what I’m trying to.’

  ‘Would she?’ Amelia smiled a little. Her mother had died when she was still quite
a little girl, but she hadn’t forgotten her. ‘But she didn’t know, did she? I mean, she met you and lived happily ever after.’

  ‘My dear child, your mother and I didn’t see each other for three years during the war. Three years is a long time, especially when you’ve only been married for a couple of weeks. But I’ll tell you something—it made no difference to us, you see we loved each other so much, just to know that the other was somewhere on earth was enough.’ He went across to the side table and poured himself a whisky and after a moment, poured one for Amelia too. ‘I hope that one day you’ll understand what I mean.’

  ‘I don’t think I ever want to get married,’ declared Amelia, accepting the whisky and pulling a face as she sipped it.

  ‘A very proper sentiment for the moment, my dear. When does Tom go?’

  ‘Quite soon—in a week or so.’

  ‘The quicker the better. It will be a good deal easier for you when he has gone. We’ll have to fill in your days for you. Which reminds me, we’ve received an invitation to your cousin Barbara’s wedding—St George’s, Hanover Square, in three weeks’ time. Your aunt is pulling out all the stops, I understand. We’ll have to go, of course. Buy yourself a new outfit, Amelia, we mustn’t let the side down.’

  It was a happy remark, for it served to distract Amelia from her misery, even for a short time. She and Barbara disliked each other intensely; they had been made to play together as children while their nannies looked on under the impression that they liked each other’s company, unaware that when they weren’t looking Barbara, a spoilt brat if ever there was one, amused herself by pinching Amelia, whose only reason for not pinching back was the fact that she was four years older and it wouldn’t be sporting. She had had her small triumphs since those days, though. She was a great deal more popular than Barbara and for several years went out and about a good deal. It wasn’t until she met Tom that she dropped out of her circle of friends. And she got engaged, much to Barbara’s annoyance—and now the wretched girl had got engaged herself and managed an early wedding. Amelia, forgetting Tom for a few minutes, took pleasure in planning the sort of outfit which would attract attention, purely on the grounds of annoying her cousin.