The Waiting Room Read online

  He was all concern. “As bad as that? I’m sorry. I’ll get you back as fast as I can, old thing.”

  “No, don’t!" I wailed. “Stop somewhere quiet, Alan. Please.”

  He pulled in under some trees—I had no idea where—and reached one long arm around me. “You may as well let it rip,” he told me. “Go ahead. You’ll feel better then.” Handing me his clean handkerchief, he held me tightly against his shoulder.

  I tried incoherently to tell him. The coat, the play and then Midge’s car. And the way I felt about Simon—the way I’d always felt. He just sat there holding me until I ran out of words and tears.

  Then he said, “Right. Now let me disillusion you. The coat, to begin with. Since I was called into consultation on it, it’s partly my fault. It wasn’t Midge’s coat. Simon bought it this morning from Soden’s, and then asked me how to get you to accept it And I said, ‘Say it’s one you got for Midge.’ See? Not Simon’s idea at all, dear girl. And as for the play—do you honestly think Simon knew the plot? He’s not a theater buff. He got the tickets from a patient who’s on the production staff. It might just as easily have been a W.W. Jacobs revival. That dispose of that?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’m a perfect idiot.”

  “Lastly the car—Simon didn’t know I’d taken this one. Entirely my own bright idea. Didn’t want you to get cold. And it’s faster than mine. All right?”

  “All right,” I said. “I was just being silly.”

  “Yes. Now could you manage to be just a little more womanish for a second?” Alan turned me to face him and took my face between his hands. “Let me dry those tears.” He kissed me firmly on the mouth—a kiss that went on for a long time but didn’t mean a thing.

  When it dawned on him, he moved away and said, “Thank you.” Putting the car into gear again, he remarked, “I know when I’m not wanted. Never mind. It was extremely pleasant.”

  “I can’t stay,” I said. “Not after this.”

  “Why on earth not? I should have thought it was pretty obvious that it’s the one thing you should do!” He looked at me briefly. “You know, you’re the kind of woman who gives things back to be raffled again. It’s a bad move. I’d have thought Simon was every woman’s kind ... Unlike me,” he added ruefully.

  “How silly can you be, Alan?” I asked him despairingly. “What does it matter what I think of Simon? That isn’t the point. And why on earth did he want to buy me a coat?”

  “I give you one guess.”

  There was only one reason, and it was only too obvious. Simon was so anxious to persuade me to stay and supervise the Retby house that he thought he could bribe me into it. “I’ve had my guess,” I told him, “and I’m not for sale.”

  Alan breathed heavily for a few moments; then he said politely, “ You, Lanna Dair, have a very sharp tongue. It’s not a nice trait in a young woman.”

  Simon was still out when we got back. “But who’s taking the calls?” I asked Alan. “I thought you didn’t want to leave the phone unattended?”

  “They’re being referred to Dr. Blaney’s. It’s his night for them. I’ll ring the exchange now and have them put back to us.”

  When I went upstairs the squirrel coat was lying on my bed, reproaching me.

  If the calls could be relayed, obviously I wasn’t as necessary as Simon had contended. In the morning I would tell him that. I wanted to go back to Allanby at the end of my vacation. I took the coat along to Simon’s room and left it on his bed. He would know what it meant. I looked down at it and stroked it. It was the kind of coat I had always dreamed of having. Just once more I slipped it on, and stood in front of the long mirror, imprinting the picture clearly in my mind.

  “You look wonderful, Lanna,” Simon said behind me. “You look beautiful.”

  I swung around. “Why did you? You knew I wouldn’t be influenced by it! Simon, I’m not going to stay. You can have the phone calls relayed quite easily. And get a resident housekeeper. They need me at Allanby—nobody needs me here.”

  He stood, very tall and upright, in front of me, and his deep blue eyes bored into mine. “Say that again,” he said very quietly.

  “I said nobody here needs me!”

  He nodded. “That’s what I thought you said, Lanna. Don’t you understand? I need you. I’ve tried to make it clear without ... without going too fast. I thought you could wait just a little while. Must I make myself plainer?”

  He kept his arms down at his sides, but the way he looked at me he might as well have had them around me. “No,” I said. “No, don’t. It wouldn’t work, Simon.” I thought again of the play at the Crescent, pushed past him and ran.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I awoke very early, aware that some light sound had disturbed me. A square white envelope lay on the floor near the door.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and ripped it open clumsily. When I had run through it once, I read it again, frowning.

  Lanna, I have to go out early and I shan’t see you until lunchtime. That gives you four hours or so to forgive me for being a tactless fool yesterday. (Alan has been quite vocal about it.) It also give you four hours or so to put me out of my misery by deciding to stay on. My hands are tied at present, but isn’t it enough if I say that the big room is waiting for you?

  Simon.

  P.S. Please accept the coat—it was meant to be a birthday present, and I was afraid you’d turn it down.

  I could have read so much into it. I could have told myself that the big room waiting for me meant only one thing; that later on, when the conventions had been observed, Simon meant to offer me marriage. If I had been 17 and inexperienced, I might have been fool enough to believe that. But I was almost 25—idiotically, I had forgotten that my birthday fell on Sunday until the postscript reminded me—and I had known for too long that I had nothing Simon wanted. Otherwise he would never have married Midge, who was so different. But for a few seconds I let myself dream. Then I plunged my burning face into cold water and returned to earth.

  Alan was already at breakfast when I went down. He looked up solicitously. “Headache gone, Lanna?”

  “Yes, thanks.” I sat down and poured myself coffee. Food was the last thing I wanted. “Alan, Simon has given me until lunch to decide.”

  His toast halted midway to his mouth and he frowned. “Decide? Decide what?”

  “Whether or not I’m staying on, I imagine.” I shrugged. “He left me a note...”

  “An ultimatum, eh? Bit silly of him. You’re not the kind to be rushed. I don’t see the hurry, myself. You’ve still a week left after this, haven’t you?”

  I stirred my coffee miserably. “Why doesn’t he have a little patience?”

  “Simon? Patience? Funny joke. Lately he has about as much patience as a tiger.” Alan began spreading marmalade reflectively. “Well, I can’t help you. I’m being purely selfish when I say that I’d love you to stay. Frankly, I don’t relish the idea of some professional housekeeper taking us in hand. And being stupid on the phone, and no sort of company in the house.” He glanced up and smiled, deepening the laughter lines around his dark eyes. I liked him a lot. “But only you can weigh your career against the possibilities.”

  The possibilities were only in my mind, I knew that. But Ward Six was something real. I knew the chances there. I would be doing what I loved doing, and it was a job I need never lose, so long as I did it well. Nobody else could take Ward Six from me. It was where I belonged. It was what I had worked for for so long. “I know I ought to go back to Allanby. It may seem selfish to you, but when things settle down, Simon will soon adjust.”

  Alan looked interestedly at his knife. “Yes, he may. But will you? That’s the point. If you go now...”

  I cursed myself for being so transparent. Did it show as badly as all that? “I’m already adjusted to Allanby,” I said stiffly. “There’s no difficulty there.”

  “Could be you’re right.” He stood up and shoved his chair under the table. “I mu
st get a move on.” I heard him amble along the hall and say, “First, please,” after he’d stuck his head into the waiting room.

  I wondered where Simon had gone. Was he deliberately avoiding me? And had he deliberately ducked out of the play the night before, either because I had turned down the coat or because he had remembered the theme of the play? What had I done to him, that he couldn’t simply treat me as he had done at Christmas—as Midge’s younger cousin?

  I began to clear the table. Mrs. Cox was still upstairs, cleaning the landing. A clutter of open mail lay by Simon’s unused plate, and I idly perused the little pile as I tidied it. Four or five circulars, a card from the British Medical Association and an empty, legal-looking envelope. I stacked them neatly and put them in the rack on the mantelpiece, then took up the tray as Mrs. Cox bundled in with her brushes. “Doctor never had any breakfast,” she grumbled. “He ought to have eaten something before he went all that way. Shouldn’t go on a journey like that with nothing in his insides.”

  Puzzled, I frowned at her. “Journey?”

  “Hundred miles or so, isn’t it, Miss? And then back again straight away. The very idea, going off to London like that!”

  “I didn’t know he had gone to London, Mrs. Cox. I just knew he wouldn’t be in until lunchtime.” I marched into the kitchen and began to unload my tray.

  Mrs. Cox followed me and washed her hands. Then she reached for the plastic bowl and shook soap flakes into it. “He didn’t tell me either, Miss. No reason why he should, I suppose, but he must have decided suddenly. It was our Charlie, at the garage, told me. Doctor called for gas soon after six. Said he was off to London and back.” She whipped the cups and saucers expertly in and out of the suds, and I began to dry them for her.

  “Does he often go up to London?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Oh, no, Miss. Only for these medical congresses, or whatever he calls them. And then he stays the night. Never known him go just for the day, though.”

  I thought I knew, then, where he had gone, and I was indignant. What possible good did he think it would do if he went to see Matron? He was behaving like a restless child. If he was trying to try to make my mind up for me, it wouldn’t help.

  When I had done the shopping and tidied my room, I went through to the dispensary and waiting room to tidy up. The waiting room was a mess, with the chairs and magazines higgledy-piggledy and the ashtray overflowing. I opened the windows and let the fresh wind blow through as I worked. When I had the little room shiny and welcoming I entered the dispensary and began to sort out the bottles and jars. I washed the litter of empties and relabeled all the dripped bottles. It looked splendid when I had finished—almost Allanby General standard.

  Simon thought so, too. He arrived at nearly one o’clock, just as I was washing out the medicine towels in the sink.

  “How good of you,” he said quietly. “Bless you. Lanna. It’s one of the things Alan and I are always meaning to do and don’t.”

  I looked around proudly. “Don’t you ever get it into such a disgusting mess again!”

  “I shall, I expect. Unless you stay to see that I don’t.”

  With a small shock I realized that instead of spending the morning making up my mind I hadn’t given the question another thought. I had simply shelved it and got on with the nearest job.

  “You told me I had until lunch to decide,” I reminded him. “Shall we say after lunch? It must be ready by now—Mrs. Cox took over the cooking so that I could do something to this place for you.” For the first time I looked full at him. I was astonished to see how white and set his face was.

  “You haven’t had bad news, have you, Simon?” I frowned at him. “You haven’t—you haven’t been to Allanby, have you?”

  He was surprised. “Allanby? Good lord, no. I had to go up and see my solicitor.”

  I remembered, then, the long empty envelope on the breakfast table. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No, not really.” He took a deep breath and put his shoulders back. “Nothing I can’t cope with. ‘ But there were still anxious lines ground his eyes.

  “You’re sure? Simon, you’d tell me if anything was bothering you, wouldn’t you? I mean ... well. I’m here.”

  For the second time he bent to touch my forehead with his lips. “Bless you.”

  We walked to the diningroom where he and Alan began a long, involved conversation about Mrs. Palin’s twins. I didn’t even bother to listen. I had my own thoughts. I spoke only absently to Alan when he went off again on his rounds. It was very peaceful, sitting there quietly with Simon, not talking. Only inside my head the conflict still raged—Ward Six, or Retby House?

  I had imagined that Simon was as quietly reflective as I was, so I was surprised when I looked up at him and saw his face. A small muscle was twitching in his right cheek and his lips were strained tight. “For God’s sake!” he burst out. “Decide to go or decide to stay, Lanna. But don’t just sit and say nothing.”

  If I were to go back to Allanby, I saw, there would be no return to Retby. He would never ask me again. But if I decided to stay with him, maybe I would be able to get another ward, some day, that would mean as much to me as Ward Six. And because of that far faint chance that he might one day feel as I did, I plunged. “I’ll stay,” I said.

  When he came around the table and put his cheek against mine I knew it was worth it. “I’ll see that you never regret it, Lanna. Will you write to Matron today? And I can go and fetch your stuff—Sister Gregory would pack it, wouldn’t she?”

  “It’s mostly packed,” I said. “We change rooms so often that we more or less live in our suitcases like a pack of chorus girls. But it isn’t so simple—you’re too impatient, Simon. My contract says I’m required to give three months’ notice!” I sighed. “I may have to go back and work that out.”

  His face dropped at once. “Oh, no! But it’s now that we need you, Lanna—Can’t you—?”

  I pushed him gently away from me. “I’ll do my best. I’ll write to Home Sister as well ... she may be able to help.”

  “Yes, do that." He straightened up. “I must go. You know it’s our weekend for calls, don’t you? So we can’t leave the phone, I’m afraid. And it’s Coxy’s half-day. So—”

  “I’ll answer it,” I promised.

  He had still not told me why he had rushed off to see his solicitor. When the house was empty I went to the hall window and looked out across the lane to the woods beyond the private gate. If I were to leave the window wide open, I decided, I would be able to hear the bell, if I didn’t walk too far. I longed to get out of the house.

  The 50 yards made all the difference. Just to walk on the springy turf and touch the budding sprays of the bushes was soothing. Turning my back on the house and sitting huddled in my coat looking across the acres of heath and silver birch, I closed my eyes. Gradually I relaxed. I opened my eyes again and watched a small weasel tearing hungrily at something on the bank opposite me, and sat very still ... Then I heard the telephone and stood up to run.

  As I reached the little gate the first of long convoy of trucks drew level. I teetered impatiently on the edge of the pavement as they ground their way along, just a bit too fast for me to slip between them. And all the time the telephone was screaming. Twice I tried to run between the monsters, and twice I had to step back. By the time I flung open the front door the bell had stopped.

  I lifted the receiver, just the same, but there was only the whirr of the dial tone. Whoever it was, I tried to convince myself, would ring again. But it worried me. It nagged at me for the rest of the afternoon as I prowled restlessly about the house, not daring to leave it again, even to walk in the yard. And when Alan came in I had done nothing about preparing the tea.

  “Simon not in?” He flopped onto a kitchen chair to watch me cut the sandwiches.

  “No. And I’ve no idea where he is—so don’t ask me.” I concentrated on the mustard I was spreading. “I’ve said I’ll stay.”

 
“You have? Good! That will cheer him up. Seems a rotten position, doesn’t it?”

  I stared at him. “What seems a rotten position?”

  “Didn’t he—” Alan stopped. “Oh, hell! Forget I said anything.” His face was scarlet.

  I put down the knife and rested my hands on the table to look at him. “It would be so nice to know what you’re talking about, Alan.”

  Still flushed, he shook his head dumbly. And then he said, “Lord Simon’d be as wild as a weasel if I nattered about his affairs.”

  I thought of the weasel in the woods and confessed about the call I had missed.

  “I shouldn’t worry. They’ll ring again. It wasn’t your fault.” He seemed glad to change the subject.

  “I just felt a bit dim, and I wanted to walk on the grass for a change.”

  Alan caught my hand as I passed him with the plate of sandwiches. “Don’t look like that, Lanna. It doesn’t suit you.” Because I was thinking of Simon’s lips on my face I dragged my hand away quickly.

  “Don’t,” I told him. “I’m trying to get the tea. The maids in this house are not allowed suitors.”

  “That,” he said slowly, “is what you think!” He got up to push the tea-trolley through to the sitting room for me. “You’ll have to wear a yashmak if you don’t want me to follow you, for one. As for my rivals—I can’t eliminate all of them, but at least we’ve now got rid of the boys at Allanby.”

  I filled his cup and handed it to him. “The boys at Allanby? Are you being funny? Most of the housemen were women, when I came away. And the R.S.O.’s married, and the R.M.O.’s in his dotage. And all the students are too busy with the nurses to bother with decrepit ward sisters. As for the consultants—well, those who aren’t grandfathers are all looking for rich wives.”