"I suggest you rest, to conjecture about your condition now is quite absurd, please wait until you are stronger; in any case, I repeat, Mr. MacFarlayne is in charge of your case, he will no doubt be willing to answer all your questions when he sees you this evening." Felicity was amazed at her own temerity, it seemed incredible that she had found courage to speak to Guy Brenton with such assurance and authority, although, she thought ruefully, it was just as well that he was unaware of the tremulous beating of her heart beneath the starched bib of her apron!
For a moment it seemed as if he would speak, then she saw the lids lowered over the deep-shadowed eyes, and his hand dropped back listlessly against the covers. As Felicity remained in watchful attitude beside the bed, a strange feeling of elation seized her; she had suffered many heartaches in working for this man, but it had been a battle worth fighting and she'd won through. This was a different fight; Guy Brenton, in those few minutes of consciousness, had recognized as she had, the disastrous effect which his injury might have on his future; it couldn't be, it mustn't! This time she'd be fighting with him and for him, it mattered so much, so very much. She didn't know why tears pricked her eyelids, she had already told herself that to be emotional about a patient was ridiculous, but this case had become a challenge, yet her urgent and intense desire for Guy Brenton's complete recovery was something entirely beyond her own comprehension.
CHAPTER FOUR
Although St. Edwin's was situated within a mile or so of the heart of London, the resident staff were usually quite satisfied to spend any odd free time in the cafes and cinemas of the neighborhood. It was easier not to have to worry about last trains or buses and, quite as important, it was considerably less drain on their pockets. Seated that evening with her three friends in the large, modern picture house a few minutes' walk from the Hospital, Felicity felt she was relaxing for the first time that day-and what a long day it seemed, it might have been a decade since Diana had come to her bedroom that morning.
The familiar, crashing chords heralded the end of the Newsreel, then the title of the feature film, preceded by the customary censorship announcement, flashed on to the screen. Felicity tried hard to concentrate on the story which unfolded, the misunderstanding of the hero and heroine which she was sure would persist throughout the story, seemed particularly irritating, they so obviously loved one another, the other characters knew, the audience knew, it just seemed impossible that a sensible man and girl could waste so much time before the inevitable happy ending; Felicity smothered a sigh as she settled more comfortably in her seat; anyway it was restful and she had to admit as she half closed her eyes the semi-darkness of the cinema had a delightfully soporific effect. It was pleasing too, to be with such good friends, she got on well with most of the staff with whom she came in contact, but in Diana she had found closer companionship than with any of the other girls. Philip and Bill were good fun too, they had made a cheerful foursome for months now and although she rather tended to pair off with Philip Elver, she had never encouraged him to expert more than her friendship.
Diana made no secret of the fact that she and Bill were on rather more intimate terms. Felicity envied Diana the ease with which she accepted the passing pleasures life offered, unruffled she could skim across the surface of love, unharming and unharmed. Often Felicity longed to be able to adopt her friend's carefree approach to the opposite sex. Life had not been so kind to Felicity and sometimes she wondered if the old wound would ever heal. She had loved once, could that ecstatic dream ever be repeated? Her thoughts wandered back to that time, nearly four years ago, when her mother's sudden and unexpected remarriage had completely altered the course of her own life as well as that of her brother. From the very first, neither she nor her brother, Tony, had felt anything but animosity toward the stocky Yorkshireman, who had taken the place of their aesthetic, scholarly father. Tony, after a brief struggle, had given up hope of reconciling himself to the changed atmosphere of his home life, and although only two years Felicity's senior, had set out to seek a new life in America. He had left with promises to send for Felicity as soon as he had a home to offer her. He wrote regularly, cheerful, happy letters, but farming was an uphill job and he still had to work his way to his ultimate goal. She was lonely and restless following his departure and had flung herself into any distraction their large country estate could provide. Luckily she had been able to indulge in her passion for riding and it was perhaps only astride her mare, with the wind blowing wild through the golden tendrils of her hair, that she had ever, in those dreary months, attained anything approaching happiness.
It was shortly after her father's death, when she was still barely twenty, that she had met Peter. At first his immediate companionship and understanding had been a solace in her loneliness; friendship had quickly ripened to something deeper. Peter became the pivot round which her whole existence revolved and the months of their engagement had brought her intense joy. Three days before her wedding, Peter had been thrown from his horse. She still had only to close her eyes to see again his twisted figure, the white mask of his face against the bracken. To Felicity, at the time, it seemed as if her world had come to an end, there was nothing more in life, love had gone, only utter despair remained.
Her brother, struggling to make a living in California, had begged her to join him, but realizing his difficulties, she could not bring herself to be an added burden. In her moments of deepest grief she had even considered a religious life but it was her brother's happy suggestion that by taking up nursing she would, as he had done, not only gain her independence, but also freedom from the home she had grown to hate. On reflection it had certainly seemed a better solution than a cloistered life and from the day she had commenced duty as a probationer at St. Edwin's she had never regretted her decision.
Philip, under the covering darkness, leaned closer and took her hand firmly in his. "Wake up, Sweet, you are missing the best bit," he whispered, as he gripped her fingers firmly in his. Holding hands was the closest form of intimacy Philip had ever attained during their long friendship, and she had often told herself how lucky it was that Philip had never demanded of her more than she could give.
Jerking herself from her reverie, Felicity focused her eyes on the, screen. It certainly was a good love scene in true Hollywood tradition, she was glad anyway that, immersed in her own thoughts, she must have missed all the stupid misunderstandings leading up to that happy end. She supposed the script writer had to think up something, you couldn't just have an end without a beginning! Possibly a middle too ... she choked back a sigh, her story seemed to have no middle and no end. It had all happened so long ago, three whole years, she had grown up since then, had lived and learned. She was contented too, she loved her work and the camaraderie of hospital life, and she, knew in her heart that her first love was little more than a memory, sometimes almost unreal. It had passed, but in the passing she had known an ecstasy which, until she could match it, she would never risk again.
The strains of the National Anthem brought the audience to their feet, then mingling with the crowds the four friends edged their way slowly towards the exit.
"Jolly good film. I liked it, didn't you?" Diana asked Felicity as they found themselves outside.
Philip slipped his arm through Felicity's and drew her ahead of the other two, then turned over his shoulder to speak to Diana. "I shouldn't bother to ask Felicity about the picture, she was asleep most of the time!" He laughed, then added: "How about a drink before we turn in?"
"Good idea," Bill Newlyn agreed as with Diana at his side he followed Philip's lead. "Are you making for the 'Kettle'? I think on the whole it's the best."
"As you like." Philip steered his companion between the cars emerging from the car park, to the other side of the road. "O.K. by you?" he asked Felicity.
"Anywhere you say." The cool night air had revived Felicity and she had almost regained her normal gaiety. "I expect half the Hospital will be there, they'll have something to talk about tonight, when they see me I shall be bombarded with questions."