Fleur sat beside Russell on that nightmare drive back to Chad's, her feelings alternating wildly as if on some crazy, out of control merry-go-round. She was concerned for Rowena, as she would have been for anyone badly injured. She thought of her as a patient, not her rival for Russell's love. She glanced at him. It was clear from the grim set of his face, and the speed at which he drove, he had thoughts only for the girl he was hurrying towards. He must love her very much.
As for Fleur's feelings towards Russell, she veered between anger he should involve her, so cruelly insisting she accompany him when he rushed to see his injured fiancée, and terror he would crash his car or be stopped for speeding.
It was natural he should go to Chad's, but to force her along too was a kind of desertion, when he had been pretending he still loved her. This hurt more than if he had sent her home. To be compelled to see his concern, to watch him agonise over the injuries of the woman he really loved, would strain her endurance to the uttermost.
She had to fight down her uncharitable desire to tell him he was despicable, but she knew she would do as he wished. If he needed it, she would provide comfort. It was impossible to challenge him now, whatever cruelty he was subjecting her to.
Fleur took little notice of the other traffic, apart from vaguely thinking it was busy so near Christmas, and dreading to see the flashing blue lights of a police car behind them. She was surprised when they swept past the Houses of Parliament to see it was still only eleven o'clock. It had seemed an endless time since Russell had appeared on her doorstep and, to avoid a quarrel in front of the Croftons, she had meekly gone with him to the party.
She flinched, but did not try to draw away when they reached Chad's and Russell, parking as near to the front entrance as he could, took her hand and drew her after him. He went straight to the lifts and up to the theatre suite at the top of the building.
'Please, will you wait there, darling?' he said, nodding towards a small room opposite the lifts.
She stared after him with a surge of fury. How dared he call her darling when it was perfectly obvious all his love and concern were for the girl at present the centre of attention in the big operating theatre, where a subdued bustle indicated skilled, urgent, but quiet and controlled action.
He disappeared into the theatre sister's office, and with a shrug Fleur turned and went into the room he had pointed to. It was a small waiting room, with a few hard chairs and a pile of old magazines. A large man dressed in shabby old trousers and a dirty, oil-stained anorak, under which Fleur could see an even dirtier sweater, was slumped into one of the chairs, his eyes closed, but his hands gripped tightly together in front of him.
At the sound of Fleur's high heels he stood up quickly, then seeing how she was dressed subsided back onto the chair. But she could feel his eyes upon her when she sat down and listlessly picked up a copy of Vogue, and wondered dully why he was there.
*
Suddenly he spoke, with a broad Yorkshire accent, and she realised he was very close to breaking down.
'I 'adn't a chance, true as I sit 'ere! The car slewed right round and straight into me, I swear it did!'
Fleur looked up at him slowly. 'Were you driving the lorry?' she asked. He nodded and bit his lip.
'I've never 'ad no accident, clean record for ten year,' he said. 'And now, she's ' He suddenly frowned, and looked closely at Fleur. 'Are you a friend, or a sister?' he asked fearfully, inclining his head towards the theatre.
Fleur shook her head quickly. 'No. I was with a friend of hers when we got the news, and he's gone along to find out what's happening. He's a surgeon. She works here, as a secretary, did you know that?'
'Aye. Mayhap they'll pull 'er through, but that bloke, the tall thin 'un, didn't seem to 'old out much 'ope.'
'That's one of the senior surgeons,' Fleur said, recognising Mr Havelock from his description. 'He's very good, and if anyone can help her he can, so don't worry, she's in good hands.'
'It weren't my fault, I knows that, but if – if the lass dies I'd not know 'ow to live wi' it,' he said slowly. 'I couldn't drive a lorry again, and it's th' only thing I can do.'
'We don't know yet how badly hurt she is, so don't imagine the worst. As for driving, it must be like riding a horse, or a bike. The sooner you get back on after a fall the better it is.'
He gave her the ghost of a smile, then fell silent again, but a nervous tic showed in his cheek, and after a few minutes Fleur said quietly she was going to find some tea.
Her own ward was close so she went down to the kitchen. After a word to the staff nurse on duty she made two strong sweet mugs of tea. She wondered whether to make one for Russell, but she had no idea how long he would be, and in any case he could get some from the theatre kitchen if he wished.
It felt decidedly odd and uncomfortable to be in the familiar ward in party clothes, and she was glad to finish. The lorry driver accepted his mug with a blank stare, then looked up at her and nodded his thanks.
'Ta, lass. Just the ticket. 'Ow did you find this?'
'I'm a nurse here,' she said briefly.
'You'll look after 'er, won't you?' he asked with a childlike simplicity, and Fleur realised Rowena would be in her ward, and no doubt she would have to watch Russell visiting her every day. Rubbing the salt in, she thought with numb resignation.
Then she heard footsteps coming briskly along the corridor, and voices. The door was pushed further open and one of the theatre nurses, carrying a tray of mugs, came into the room. She was followed by Russell. Fleur did not hear the nurse's exclamation that they had already got tea, both she and the lorry driver were on their feet, looking anxiously at Russell. He was tense, but not so bleak as before.
'She's come through,' he said quietly. 'It's too early yet to tell whether there'll be any permanent effect, but Mr Havelock is hopeful, there's just a hairline fracture and no other apparent damage to her head. And the abdominal injuries seem very minor, although she's got a slightly perforated gut. I'd better go and phone her mother. She'll be getting really distraught by now, it's hours after Rowena should have got home.'
*
He turned swiftly and left. Fleur sat down abruptly.
'I went and made tea,' she explained.
'Of course, you're on female surgical, aren't you?' the other nurse exclaimed. 'I was trying to think where I'd seen you before, people look so different out of uniform, don't they?' Then she turned to the lorry driver. 'Can you manage another? I expect you'll want to be getting on home now.'
He shuddered. 'I can't drive the lorry,' he said hastily.
'Why not, is it too badly damaged?' the nurse asked.
'No, 'ardly dented the front wing, just – I can't!'
'From what I heard the accident wasn't in any way your fault, and if the police don't want you to stay oughtn't you be getting home? Are you on the phone?'
He nodded, puzzled. 'The police said as 'ow they'd be in touch, they 'ad my statement earlier. I just 'ad to stay till I knew – ' he tailed off and gave a sudden gasp of relief. 'Thank God she's not dead!'
'Of course,' the nurse said soothingly. 'Now when you get home, telephone and ask how she is. If you leave your number I'll see to it someone rings you in the morning too. Look, come down with me now and I'll arrange it all.'
She shepherded him out of the room and Fleur was left alone, wondering whether she ought to call for a taxi. Russell would certainly prefer to stay at Chad's, and now Rowena was, for the moment at any rate, out of danger, he no longer needed Fleur for the very odd kind of support he seemed to demand of her.
She gave a deep, shuddering sigh, then rose and left the room. There was nothing to tell her where Russell was, but she thought he was most likely in the theatre nurse's office using her phone. She went down in the lift and the porter, eyeing her curiously, telephoned for a taxi. He found her a pencil and a sheet of paper and she wrote a hurried note to Russell, which the porter promised to give him.
'Don't worry now, I'm here all night, and won't miss him. I'll see he gets it straight away.'
To Fleur's relief the taxi came almost immediately and by now the traffic had thinned so she was home and in bed in a very short time. Exhausted, she slept, and woke only to the sound of her alarm a few hours later.
Hastening to Chad's she had little time to think about the previous night, but there was a deep shadow over everything, and she thought she could never be happy again.
*
Rowena was in the ward, in the bed where a close watch could be kept on her.
'She's still drowsy, but her pulse and temperature are stable, and she seems to be holding her own,' Sister Reynolds told Fleur. 'Mr Delaney asked me to tell you he was enormously grateful for your support last night, and he'll be round some time this morning. I believe he went to fetch Mrs Kingsley, for she doesn't drive and Mr Kingsley's not due back until late this evening. What a shock for the poor man, at Christmas too, but the chances are she'll recover completely.'
By the afternoon Rowena was fully awake, and although very dazed and weak, seemed to understand where she was, and why. Mr Havelock came to see her, but no other visitors were allowed until Fleur was about to go off duty. She was leaving the ward when Russell came in, accompanied by a woman so like Rowena, despite her age, that she could only be her mother, and a tall young man with the same fair colouring, who must be her brother.
Fleur stepped back hurriedly, but Russell had seen her and while the other two went softly across the ward to where Rowena lay, he paused.
'I'll run you home as soon as I can get away,' he said quietly. 'I'm so sorry yesterday evening was ruined, but I understood you preferred to get home after the operation.'
Fleur looked after him in amazement as he crossed to where the curtains were now drawn about Rowena's bed. What on earth could they have to say to one another? Then she reflected that if she wanted to avoid him she had better move quickly. She changed rapidly into a thick warm skirt, and a soft angora wool sweater of a delicate rose shade. She was about to leave when it occurred to her that even if she evaded Russell at the hospital, he was quite capable of following her home.
She could not face the thought of a showdown with him. Not tonight, when she was so tired and still distraught, and had not had time to think about his odd actions. She could not go home yet, and she sighed wearily. Where could she be safe from Russell's inexplicable behaviour for a few hours?
Suddenly she remembered Jenny's request. Of course, she would go across to the nurses' hostel and stay in Jenny's room. Anxiously she searched her bag and sighed in relief. She had the key. She could wait there until it was safe to go home. She could even sleep there, she thought, for there was no knowing when Russell might appear or telephone and to be constantly on the alert would be almost as bad as facing him.
She went swiftly to the hostel, casting anxious glances about her. There was no sign of Russell, however, and she ran up the stairs to the third floor where Jenny had a room, number 326.
The hostel was an old building, originally several large terraced houses which had been converted, with newer wings sticking out at the back. It was a maze of corridors, and Fleur had to pause several times to read the room numbers. She was standing near one sign which had partly torn, trying to make out whether the last number was a five or a six when she heard a familiar voice in the corridor round the corner.
For a few seconds she thought it must be a nurse she knew, then her eyes snapped wide open in astonishment, and she turned to face the girl approaching along the other corridor.
*
'Hello, Liza,' she said quietly, and Liza Price almost dropped her bag in surprise. 'How is St John's these days?' Fleur went on, looking at the girl with Liza. For a moment she could not place her, then the embarrassed hostility in her eyes made Fleur recall the time when she had taken the girl, Gilly Massingham, to task for carelessness.
Liza recovered rapidly. 'Why, Nurse Flirt,' she exclaimed, a gleeful expression in her voice. 'Fancy seeing you. I thought you might be out with the fantastic concussion case. Or has he tired of you and gone back to the Monarch's daughter?'
Fleur pressed her lips tightly together. She would not allow Liza to provoke her into any unwise comments. Instead she smiled slightly, and merely stared enquiringly at Gilly.
'Someone has soon been busy with the gossip. Have you come to visit London, Liza? And how do you two know each other?'
'Liza's my cousin,' Gilly explained, and Fleur saw a look of slight annoyance on Liza's face.
Suddenly she understood how the rumours had come to Chad's, and been exaggerated into much nastier stories. Liza's old jealousy, plus Gilly's resentment at being reprimanded by someone she regarded as a newcomer to Chad's, and the unfortunate coincidence that the two were cousins, explained it all.
'Lucky you,' she said lightly. 'Have a good time in London, Liza. I must go now, and decide which of the ten invitations I've received I shall accept tonight.'
'Well!' she heard Liza exclaim in astonished fury, but she had turned and walked away down the corridor.
Fleur let herself into Jenny's room quickly. She slowly took off her coat and sank down in the chair. So Russell wasn't the author of the rumours after all. In that she'd maligned him. But it didn't mean she had been wrong about his other behaviour, she told herself fiercely. He was deceitful, hurtful and totally unscrupulous.
She hoped he sat outside her flat all night if he had the nerve to want to go on pretending everything was well between them, while all the time he had been using her to make Rowena jealous.
She would find it very difficult to nurse Rowena properly, she thought, whatever professionalism she called to her aid. But she must, as she must steel herself to see Russell, not only in the ward as a surgeon, but also as Rowena's fiancé. And she must endure knowing looks, or sympathetic glances, both equally difficult to bear, when the Chad's grapevine had been at work and her colleagues learned of the new twists in the affair.
She spent the night tossing and turning, wondering what Russell had done. It was almost worse not to know, she told herself crossly, than it would have been facing him. But today she must, and she still had to finish the painting and wallpapering in the flat.
Rowena was awake, but rather drowsy, and Fleur found it possible to conceal her feelings as she worked. Russell visited while she was at lunch, and the couple who had been before, Rowena's mother and brother, came in the afternoon when Fleur was busy with another patient who had just come down from the theatre after having a broken ankle dealt with.
She was walking down the ward a couple of hours later, about to go off duty when there was a slight scream from on of the auxiliaries. Fleur was nearest her, and she grabbed the girl as she ran distractedly towards sister's office.
'What is it?' she demanded. 'Control yourself!'
'Miss Kingsley,' the student babbled. 'Quick, do something, she's bleeding, the wound in her stomach's bleeding awfully fast! She'll bleed to death!'
*