Nurse Abroad(33)

“What do you mean, Grant?”

“I think you know what I mean, all right. But a man can’t say any more than that at this stage, can he, Sarah? It wouldn’t be the thing.”

Sarah swallowed. “No, I suppose not.”

What did he mean? That he was sure of his own feelings, but not of Elaine’s? He need not worry there.

He smiled at her. “Well, goodnight, partner.”

It was the first time he had said partner without a sneer.

Sarah called goodnight to Rory and Pauline and turned her face into her pillow. That was why Grant had been so mellow, so understanding, tonight. He was in love, and softened towards her. And perhaps he feels safe with me now. And during the storm she had dared to hope that ... Sarah locked the door on her dreams.

It was two days later that Grant came across to the cottage, the Christchurch Star in his hands. “Have you seen the paper tonight yet, Sarah?”

“No.”

Something in his tone jerked Sarah to an awareness that he was looking grave.

“Anything wrong?”

“Just that you did say you nursed at Martford, didn’t you?”

“Yes. What is it? Has there been a fire?”

“No, but you remember the plane that was lost in the Pacific? Someone from Martford’s was aboard her. I thought I’d rather tell you than have you read it.”

Sarah’s voice was carefully calm.

“Who?”

“The matron, At least, the former matron ... just retired. It was a pleasure cruise, remember. They’ve just released the names. A Miss Ruth Devonley.”

Sarah was very still. Matron had been more than just a figurehead, a disciplinarian. It was to Matron Sarah had gone in the black moment when she had received word that her parents had been killed. Matron who had seen to it that she spent hours at Duncan’s bedside. Matron who had arranged all day duty for her till she came away, so that the children would not be alone at night.

Matron had said she was going to take a tour of the South Seas, which had always fascinated her, when she retired. Sarah could picture her setting out, immaculate, charming, with no hint in her schooled features of the sense of adventure in her heart. Sarah hoped she’d seen something of the wonders of it all before the plane had dived into the sea. There had been an S O S cut off before any hint of the plane’s position had been given. The route she had been following was still being searched. But in those leagues of ocean ...

Elaine came over later in the evening, tendered insincere sympathy, told Sarah when she was going back to the homestead, that she had managed to extend her leave, and postpone her Mount Cook trip for a week or two longer.

“I feel I need more time here.”

Sarah didn’t ask why.

“And of course, Grant didn’t want me to go so soon. In fact, he doesn’t want me to take the trip to Mount Cook at all. He said there may be other chances of seeing it.”

Again Sarah made no comment. There wouldn’t be other chances if Elaine left for England when her booking was due. It must mean Grant thought Elaine would not go home in the end. What did that mean—the uncertainty? That Elaine was playing the game of hard-to-get?

Two nights later Grant came over to the cottage with a newspaper, but this time he was running, waving it. He burst in. Sarah was making pastry.

He caught hold of her. “Sarah ... what do you think? They’re all safe ... your matron, the crew, all the passengers. Look ... the pilot made a perfect landing on an uninhabited island, somewhere near the Raratongan group, well off his course. There’s a marvellous write-up here about it. Mostly about your Matron. Listen: ‘Great tributes were paid to Matron Devonley. A crew member said they were organized within an inch of their lives. He vowed Miss Devonley was disappointed they were taken off so soon. The island was well stocked with coconuts, tropical fruits, there were running streams, plenty of shelter, and fish in abundance. The children in the party have had the time of their lives. They were very concerned about the anxiety their families must be suffering, of course, and they worked without pause to get the wireless in going order again, but all of them vowed it was shipwreck de luxe.’ I couldn’t get over here fast enough to tell you, Sarah.”

Sarah was delighted.

Grant went on: “They’re bringing them to Harewood the day after tomorrow. It says ‘Already several Christchurch citizens have offered hospitality.’ Sarah, say we go down to Harewood, and bring your Matron back here? I suppose that eventually they’ll arrange their tour again, but I guess they’ll be free agents for a while.”

Sarah nodded. “The day after tomorrow is my day off, anyway. I would appreciate it, Grant.”

Naturally Elaine came with them, but even that couldn’t cloud Sarah’s delight, or overshadow the evident thrill Miss Devonley got when she came across the tarmac to see Sarah standing there.

Ruth Devonley was certainly a charming woman. Poor Elaine felt eclipsed. They had to wait a while until the reporters and photographers were satisfied, then at last they took the road to Cheviot.

Sarah was intrigued. Certainly Matron had never been stiff and starchy out of uniform, but there was a glow behind all this that puzzled Sarah. Matron looked ten years younger. It could be just the shedding of the responsibility of Martford’s, or the unexpected glamor of being cast on a desert island, but... Sarah was sure there was something to account for the sparkle in her eye, the dreaminess that had never been a part of the Matron of Martford’s.

She insisted on staying at the cottage, not the homestead, but they spent the evenings up at the big house, something that suited Elaine not at all.

Matron had been with them just four days when she got a toll call from Auckland. It was her voice, the tender tone in it more than what she said, that gave her away to Sarah. Matron was in love.

Matron put the phone down, came in search of Sarah, who’d gone outside so Matron could have privacy. Matron’s eyes were shining. She spoke completely without embarrassment.

“Sarah, that was John Eastwood ... the man I should have married years ago. I’d not heard of him for thirty odd years, except that I knew he’d gone out to some territory in the Pacific. He was Medical Officer there. He—he never married. He saw my name in the crash list, then word of us being found. We got the wireless going, and simply radioed our location, you know. It was like a film. They sent a cutter for us.

“They beached it perfectly, and came wading ashore through the shallows. We came running to them ... and there was John. I’ve heard of people being unable to believe their eyes, but it was my first experience of such a thing. I acted like a teenager, Sarah. I said. ‘John, it can’t be true, can it? It can’t be true ... it isn’t you?”

“And what did he say?” Sarah was starry-eyed. Matron hesitated. Sarah shook her hand. “Now, please don’t disappoint me. Tell me!”

Matron laughed. “All right... but it’s for your ears alone. Don’t you dare write and tell anyone at Martford’s. He said, ‘of course it’s me, Ruth. Don’t you know that journeys end in lovers’ meeting?”

“And he’s followed you to New Zealand?”

“Yes. He had to wind up things over there. Just temporarily, I mean. We’re going back.”

“You mean ... married?”

“Just that, Sarah. John is getting a special licence. He is coming down from Auckland in a car he’s just bought. He’ll cross to Picton and come down here. We’ll be married in Christchurch, I suppose, and have a honeymoon touring the South Island. I still can’t believe it, Sarah, but telling you is making it come true.”

Yes, Elaine was somewhat overshadowed for a day or two. Sarah got leave from the nursing home and rushed Matron off to the city for some urgent shopping, Grant lending her the big car.

He also shepherded everyone over to the cottage when he saw the dust of John Eastwood’s car coming towards Challowsford, making sure the two of them met alone. Sometimes Sarah found herself wishing he wasn’t so thoughtful, so kind. It only made it harder.

John Eastwood was asked to stay at the homestead. By the end of the evening, he had decided he would be married in Cheviot. Grant rang up the minister, who came out immediately.

So two days later they were married in the lovely little stone Presbyterian church in Cheviot, with the quiet New Zealand hills keeping watch over the tiny township.

They had asked Sarah and Grant to stand with them at the altar. It gave Sarah the oddest feeling This was the second time she had been linked with her reluctant partner in a ceremony ... the other had been the baptism of the Granger twins in the Anglican church.



Elaine wasn’t there. She’d gone to Christchurch by the bus. To have her hair set, she had said. Sarah realized Elaine was tired of the fuss over this middle-aged romance. But Sarah envied Matron, envied her the look in John Eastwood’s eyes as he placed the ring upon his bride’s finger.

Back to Challowsford where Mrs. Mac had excelled herself in turning on a wedding feast at very short notice. Then together Sarah and Grant stood at the cattle-stops, waving goodbye. Sarah’s eyes were wet.

“What a wonderful wedding,” said Grant. “No fuss, no flummery. No photographers. It made the ceremony stand out, didn’t it? Sarah, why had they parted all those years ago?”