‘Oh, he’s a sweet thing.’ Clara smiled and gave a little shrug. ‘I think he’s going to propose soon.’ She lifted her teacup to her lips and sipped the steaming drink thoughtfully.
‘And?’ Dorothy’s eyes widened with excitement. ‘What will you say? Do you want to marry him?’
Clara looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘I think so,’ she began noncommittally, ‘but the trouble is, Cyril’s so awfully traditional and proper about things.’ Clara rolled her eyes. ‘The most I’ve got out of him was a mild-mannered kiss after Hugo Dalvey’s birthday party at the club last month, after he’d had a bit too much to drink. I was delighted that he was finally getting down to business, but then he stoppedhimself and kept apologising all the way home. It wassodisappointing.’
Dorothy smiled at her friend and shook her head fondly.
‘That side of things is important to me, you see,’ Clara continued. ‘But I’ve no idea how it’s going to be with Cyril, if he’s going to be any good at it, I mean. I’d just like one night with him to find out. Is that too much to ask? Let’s face it, you wouldn’t buy a new car without taking it for a test drive first, would you?’
‘Oh Clara! You are terrible!’ Dorothy burst out laughing, her worries drifting away for a moment. Clara shrugged and started giggling, too.
Their jollity was cut short by the appearance of Sister Jamieson’s face around the door. Her mouth was as tight as her brown curls, and her expression severe and unsmiling.
‘Ladies, may I remind you that this is a hospital and not a music hall. You will kindly maintain decorum at all times.’ They both nodded, looking suitably contrite. ‘Nurse Llewellyn,’ she continued, checking her fob watch, ‘I believe you were due back on shift two minutes ago.’ Dorothy nodded again obediently and instantly rose from her seat. ‘And as for you, Nurse Davies, you don’t have a break for another hour. You will return to the ward immediately.’
Dorothy couldn’t help but smile to herself as she left the room, feeling like they’d been caught out like a pair of naughty schoolgirls. She felt lighter after talking to Clara and ready to get back to work.
‘Nurse Llewellyn?’ Dorothy heard her name as she walked along the corridor. She turned back in the direction of the voice, worrying that she was about to get another telling off, but was relieved to see the tall, willowy figure of Dr Archie approaching.
‘I’m glad I caught you,’ he began, with an easy smile. ‘I understand your mother is in with us for her surgery this afternoon?’
Dorothy felt a lump form in her throat but managed a nod in reply.
‘Well, I had a word with Sister Robertson, who’ll be on duty this afternoon, and arranged for you to go and see your mother before she goes in.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Pop along to ward five just before three and you can have a few minutes with her.’ He seemed to sense her anxiety. ‘And try not to worry; the operation has a good chance of success. Mr Thompson-Wright is a first-rate surgeon, we’re lucky to have him here. Try to stay positive.’ He put a gentle hand on Dorothy’s arm and, with a friendly wink, he continued on his way along the corridor.
Dorothy was overcome by his kindness. The sisters at the hospital were a fierce bunch, regularly reprimanding the trainee nurses and setting such impossibly high standards. But Dr Archie was always so kind and encouraging, so human, and Dorothy was glad that he was the supervisor for her unit. With his ready smile and bright eyes, he was handsome in an ‘older man’ kind of way, and a couple of the younger trainees admitted to having crushes on him. Dorothy had heard on the grapevine that he was a widower, his wife having died in childbirth a decade earlier. The poor man had lost both his wife and his child in one bitter blow. But he had not let his grief consume him. Instead, he had thrown himself into his work and, with his easy-going, friendly manner, managed to spread a little happiness and comfort wherever he went. Dorothy admired and appreciated him for that.
It was late when Dorothy arrived home after her shift that evening. They had needed all hands on deck when an ambulance had brought in casualties from a motorcar accident. She and Clara had both volunteered to stay on and they had ended up working an extra two hours after their shift ended. Clara had given her a lift home, dropping her at the corner of York Road with a weary ‘See you tomorrow!’
The sun was setting on a warm, balmy evening as Dorothy made her way home along the tree-lined avenue. A chorus of tree frogs accompanied the sound of her weary footsteps as she dragged her aching limbs the short distance to the house. She was ready for dinner, a hot bath and bed. It had been a day of ups and downs and she felt physically and emotionally drained. It was a huge relief that her mother’s surgery had gone smoothly and the doctor had been optimistic for a full recovery. Dorothy was grateful to Dr Archie that he had arranged some time off to visit and that she had been there to support her father. The sight of him, sitting alone in the waiting room, anxiously awaiting news of his wife’s operation, had made her heart ache. It had taken all her last remaining energy to smile and reassure him that everything would be alright.
The heady scent of jasmine filled the air as she turned into the driveway and she breathed it in deeply. A sudden movement up ahead made her pause. She heard voices as the front door opened, revealing Douglas bidding farewell to a visitor. The person had their back to her and it wasn’t until they turned around to make their way down the drive that she recognised the dark figure of Maria Pemberton.
Dorothy’s stomach sank. What was that woman doing here? She wasn’t an idiot, she knew that Douglas still saw her regularly, but how dare she come here, toherhouse? Dorothywished she could make herself disappear, the last thing she wanted was to have to speak to her. But there was nowhere to hide. There was nothing for it but to continue walking up the drive and hold her head up high. After all, she was not the one doing anything wrong.
Dressed in a long, loose-fitting blue gown Maria was her usual effortlessly-stylish self. As the women approached each other, Dorothy was about to give her customary civil nod when a light breeze caught the fabric of Maria’s dress. It swept across to one side in such a way that there was no escaping the sight of her protruding belly.
Dorothy gasped. ‘You’re pregnant!’ The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She looked up at Maria and, instead of the usual perfect make-up, her face was red and blotchy with tears.
The Italian’s nostrils flared slightly as she breathed in sharply. She looked Dorothy up and down and, with a curt nod, uttered an abrupt ‘Si!’ Then she brushed past Dorothy and continued down the driveway and onto the main road without a backward glance.
Dorothy’s mind raced. Her husband’s lover was pregnant. And she had come here, to her husband’s house, and left visibly upset. Why? Dorothy added two plus two and came up with a very convincing four.
On cue, the young houseboy, Ravi, opened the door as Dorothy reached the top step. He greeted her with a polite ‘Good evening, ma’am,’ took her bag and hat, and informed her that Cook was keeping her dinner warm and it would be sent in as soon as she was ready.
‘Hello, darling, you’re home late! Busy day?’ Douglas’s voice called cheerfully from the drawing room.
Dorothy was trembling as she made her way through to him; with anger, with jealousy and with an overwhelming sense of bitter injustice. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then entered the room.
Douglas laid down his cigar and rose to give his wife the usual, perfunctory kiss on the cheek. She could smell the whisky on his breath. He smiled down at her, taking in her uniform, ‘I must say, that little nurse get-up really is rather fetching on you, you know!’ He gave her a flirtatious wink then sat down again and picked up his glass. ‘Have a seat, darling. Better yet, have a drink!’
Dorothy remained standing, her brow furrowed as she tried to find the right words.
‘I’ve just seen Maria Pemberton,’ she began quietly. ‘Why was she here, Douglas? To tell you that you’re going to be a father?’ Unbidden, her eyes filled with tears.
‘What?’ Douglas’s face was the picture of innocence. But Dorothy had seen that look too many times before and it didn’t fool her anymore.
‘I don’t know what you mean, darling.’ He reached up to take her hand, but she snatched it out of his reach.
