"I'd love to, thank you very much."
He set down his empty coffee cup. "Tell Sister I'll be here at the usual time tomorrow, and I can only hope that-"
So it was coming, that dissertation on the state of the ward which Felicity had been dreading. Determined to forestall him she, broke in quickly. "Tomorrow we'll be more prepared, everything will be ready for you." Without giving him a chance to prolong the subject, she went on immediately, "I'm glad to have you back, very glad indeed." There could have been no question about the sincerity of her words, indeed they came from her heart, she knew only too well that this man's presence was the stimulus she needed to bring back that incentive to give of her best. It was then that, with a sense of shock, she realized that her time at St. Edwin's was nearly spent, and that soon her nursing career would have come to an end, and Guy Brenton would have passed from her life. Fearful of betraying her thoughts she spoke again quickly. "How is your hand now. Are you regaining the full use of your fingers?"
"Indeed I am." Obviously anxious to display his prowess, he laid his right hand over hers where it rested on the desk. Exerting considerable pressure, of which he was obviously proud, he clasped her fingers firmly between his own.
The contact seemed to send a thrill through every nerve of Felicity's body. Miserably aware that a tell-tale colour had mounted her cheeks, she tried to instil into her voice a note of detachment. "Why, it's wonderful, quite wonderful!"
"Yes, it is, isn't it-quite wonderful." There was an underlying depth as he echoed her words, surely some underlying meaning too, but he had released her hand and turned abruptly away before Felicity had any opportunity to seek enlightenment from his expression.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"So you're deserting us tonight?" Diana, stretched out on a deck-chair beside Felicity in the small enclosed garden beside the Nurses' Home, stated rather than questioned her friend.
"Yes, I'm afraid I am, it does seem rather mean, you and I and Philip and Bill always had such lovely Tuesday evenings together. Still, I couldn't very well refuse Mr. Brenton's invitation, could I?' she asked apologetically.
Diana laid down her knitting on which she had been concentrating. "Of course you couldn't, anyway the old foursome seems to have broken up completely. I really believe Bill is serious about that red-headed Jones, he was making sheep's eyes at her all this morning in theatre. I think he's got it badly this time." She picked up her knitting. "Drat, now I've dropped a stitch. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted so I can't complain."
"You don't mind?" Felicity probed, and if she harboured any lingering doubts, Diana's burst of unaffected laughter which accompanied her denial would have been sufficient reassurance.
"On the contrary I'm really glad." Again Diana neglected her knitting to give her full attention to her friend, anxiously seeking any reaction her question might evoke. "Philip has been so attentive-I wonder, do you think I'm being foolish? I've got a feeling that I'm falling for him, seriously this time, quite different from anything that has happened to me before."
Diana need not have suffered any doubt about arousing Felicity's interest. "If you really mean that, then I am glad, happier than I can say, Philip is so nice, oh Diana, do try to be sensible about this, it's time you were serious about somebody."
As if by mutual consent the conversation died down as they lay back in their chairs lulled to a state of lethargy by the warm sunshine. It was Diana who eventually broke the silence. "You didn't tell me if you enjoyed your shopping expedition with Alaine Jason; How did it go off, did she order her wedding dress?"
"Yes, apparently she and Mr. Brenton have finally decided on a very quiet wedding. I hardly expected it of Alaine, she seems to have sobered down since she stopped working. I suppose it's because she misses the excitement of the studios."
It certainly seems out of character, I was imagining their marriage in terms of white satin and retinues of bridesmaids," Diana murmured sleepily, but with obvious interest.
"Alaine is a strange mixture-" Felicity broke off as she sought the right words to express her feelings. "You know she can be awfully sweet, very affectionate and grateful for anything one does for her. Sometimes she seems artificial and inclined to dramatize everything-taking care of course that she takes 'lead'!" Felicity laughed but there was no malice in her amusement. "I think that's all a pose, I don't believe it's the real Alaine and now she's stopped filming, I believe she'll be altogether a much nicer person."
I hope you are right." Diana yawned prodigiously. "The wedding is next week, isn't it?" I suppose you'll go."
"It's the day after I leave here. Do you realize my time is nearly up? I have a few days holiday due to me, so I don't have to remain the full month."
"I can't bear the thought of you going." The idea had brought Diana to full wakefulness. "I'm going to miss you horribly."
"Perhaps you, too, will be leaving soon," Felicity smiled as she threw a meaning glance at her friend.
"Who knows? I rather hope you are right!" Diana laughed. "Our old foursome will have dwindled to two and as they say 'two's company'." For a few moments she turned her attention to her neglected knitting then spoke more soberly. "What time are you due for dinner at Mr. Brenton's tonight?"
"Not until eight-but I'm a bit puzzled. I had a hectic call from Tony at lunch-time today asking me to meet him first. He wouldn't tell me what it was about on the telephone but he sounded awfully worried and insisted that he must see me before tonight. He is calling for me at six ."
She glanced at her wrist-watch. "Goodness! How time flies, I'll have to be getting changed."
"You needn't go just yet," Diana demurred as holding up her knitting she viewed it critically. "Seems a bit vast, doesn't it?"
Felicity looked searchingly at the half-finished jumper. "Sure you've followed the pattern? It certainly is a bit wide." Diana scanned the crumpled instructions she was following. "Heavens! I've been increasing instead of decreasing! You need an uninterrupted existence on a desert island to follow this knitting pattern, every time I have to put it down I forget where I was!" She rolled it round the needles and thrust it impatiently into the chintz bag hanging on the back of her chair. "That's that, now I'm going to have a real rest."
"And I'm going in, so you can sleep in peace." Felicity laughed as she rose. Having collected together her books and folded up the deck chair, she made her way to the door leading to the Nurses' Home.
She was already waiting beside the iron gates of the Hospital when Tony's taxi drew up at the curb. He alighted and waited for her to enter, then instructed the driver to return to the West End.
Where can we go and talk?" he asked her as the taxi slid forward again. "Somewhere quiet, not a crowded restaurant."
"What about Regent's Park, it's lovely and sunny; we can sit by the pond."
"Good idea!" Tony leaned forward and sliding the glass window along behind the driver gave his instructions. During the short journey in the taxi he seemed to Felicity to be restless and ill at ease. She longed for him to speak but felt the inadvisability of pressing for his confidence.
It was not until they were settled on a bench in the park, with a full view of the open stretch of water with is masses of multi-coloured tulips on the further bank, that Felicity broached the subject.
"What was the rush to see me before tonight? Anything special you wanted to ask me about?"
"Yes-there is." Tony lapsed again into silence while he dug pensively at the pathway with his stick, sending up a small cloud of gritty dust. "There is something I have to tell you, something you ought to know."
"Well, stop fidgeting and tell me what it is," Felicity laughed in an effort to relieve the tension, as she settled herself as comfortably as the hard bench would allow.
It was so unlike Tony to remain silent and with a feeling of curiosity Felicity found herself studying her brother as he sat forward with hunched shoulders. He still dug at the stony path and as she searched his face, she was for the first time conscious of a sense of foreboding. There was a hard, almost grim line to the set of his jaw and when he at last lifted his head and turned to face her, his expression did nothing to assuage her anxiety, the habitual twinkle was absent from his eyes and in its place was a look bordering on fear.