“Really, March, you’re the end!”
Ann saw her opportunity. The old woman had moved away from the door and Ann went behind her and slipped inside. Beverley was sitting up in bed, a lovely frilled wrap pulled around her, her big blue eyes sparkling with excitement. There was a bottle on the table beside her, and a glass in her hand.
Ann did not hesitate. She went forward, took the glass, and at the same time removed the bottle from the table. “This is very silly of you,” she remarked, as she put them both out of reach and turned to deal with the scene that she was sure going to ensue.
But, rather to her surprise, Beverley lay back among her pillows and said nothing. Just stared with wide blue eyes that were no longer sparkling with excitement, but dull with despair.
Ann said now, “Do you want to do yourself harm? Surely you realize that your collapse yesterday wasn’t just the result of excitement. The alcohol you drank also contributed to it.”
The girl in the bed said drearily, “What does it matter? I might just as well drink myself to death. That would be far better than lying here — a useless log.”
Ann’s voice was practical. Facile sympathy was going to be no good here. “Let me shake up your pillows and straighten the sheet. Now that’s better.”
“You really are a nurse,” Beverley observed languidly. “A far better one, too, I should say, than my sister ... my real sister. What brought you from London in the first place?”
Ann shook her dark head as she went on straightening the bed. “I don’t know. Your mother told you that I had lost my memory?”
“Yes, she told me, but I didn’t believe her, and I’m not sure I believe you, either.”
Beverley’s blue eyes, rather calculating now, studied Ann. “From what I can hear you are on rather intimate terms with Iain Sherrarde. Did you come down here to be with him?”
Ann stood staring at her, her lavender-grey eyes very wide. “Of course not,” she gasped. “I’d never seen him before that night of the railway accident.”
“How do you know, if you can’t remember?” demanded Beverley shrewdly.
For a moment Ann stared down at the lovely satin eiderdown which covered the bed. She couldn’t explain to Beverley that the wonderful thing which had happened to her since she came to Sunbury was completely new. It had happened the first moment she met Iain Sherrarde ... and that moment had been in a country lane, on a rather misty evening...
Seeing that the invalid was waiting for her reply, she made a slightly impatient gesture. “Even though I’ve lost my memory, there are some things I know by instinct,” she said. “For instance, I’m sure that I have trained as a nurse. I know all the routine of my profession, but I can’t remember anything of the people or the surroundings where I was trained.”
“Well, don’t fall in love with Iain now you’ve met him,” Beverley said, quite deliberately. “I may take all sorts of foolish risks with my own life, when I’m feeling depressed, but I wouldn’t answer for what I’d do if anybody tried to take him from under my nose. I’m like that with men, you know — possessive. There are a certain few whom I regard as my own property, and he happens to be one of them. No matter how much the gossips may speculate about his marrying that ginger-haired Maureen Lyntrope, he’s going to remain my property. See?”
Ann said coldly, “I think you’re talking a lot of nonsense, Beverley. I’d better call you that, hadn’t I?”
“Really, why should you?”
“If I’m supposed to be your sister, I can’t address you as Mrs. Derhart.”
“I don’t see why you should pretend to be Anne. It’s a completely ridiculous idea of Mummy’s,” Beverley said in a sulky voice.
“Maybe,” Ann returned, “but imagine what would have happened last night, if I hadn’t been here.”
“There are trained nurses at the Institute. Some of them were here in the room when I
Ann saw her opportunity. The old woman had moved away from the door and Ann went behind her and slipped inside. Beverley was sitting up in bed, a lovely frilled wrap pulled around her, her big blue eyes sparkling with excitement. There was a bottle on the table beside her, and a glass in her hand.
Ann did not hesitate. She went forward, took the glass, and at the same time removed the bottle from the table. “This is very silly of you,” she remarked, as she put them both out of reach and turned to deal with the scene that she was sure going to ensue.
But, rather to her surprise, Beverley lay back among her pillows and said nothing. Just stared with wide blue eyes that were no longer sparkling with excitement, but dull with despair.
Ann said now, “Do you want to do yourself harm? Surely you realize that your collapse yesterday wasn’t just the result of excitement. The alcohol you drank also contributed to it.”
The girl in the bed said drearily, “What does it matter? I might just as well drink myself to death. That would be far better than lying here — a useless log.”
Ann’s voice was practical. Facile sympathy was going to be no good here. “Let me shake up your pillows and straighten the sheet. Now that’s better.”
“You really are a nurse,” Beverley observed languidly. “A far better one, too, I should say, than my sister ... my real sister. What brought you from London in the first place?”
Ann shook her dark head as she went on straightening the bed. “I don’t know. Your mother told you that I had lost my memory?”
“Yes, she told me, but I didn’t believe her, and I’m not sure I believe you, either.”
Beverley’s blue eyes, rather calculating now, studied Ann. “From what I can hear you are on rather intimate terms with Iain Sherrarde. Did you come down here to be with him?”
Ann stood staring at her, her lavender-grey eyes very wide. “Of course not,” she gasped. “I’d never seen him before that night of the railway accident.”
“How do you know, if you can’t remember?” demanded Beverley shrewdly.
For a moment Ann stared down at the lovely satin eiderdown which covered the bed. She couldn’t explain to Beverley that the wonderful thing which had happened to her since she came to Sunbury was completely new. It had happened the first moment she met Iain Sherrarde ... and that moment had been in a country lane, on a rather misty evening...
Seeing that the invalid was waiting for her reply, she made a slightly impatient gesture. “Even though I’ve lost my memory, there are some things I know by instinct,” she said. “For instance, I’m sure that I have trained as a nurse. I know all the routine of my profession, but I can’t remember anything of the people or the surroundings where I was trained.”
“Well, don’t fall in love with Iain now you’ve met him,” Beverley said, quite deliberately. “I may take all sorts of foolish risks with my own life, when I’m feeling depressed, but I wouldn’t answer for what I’d do if anybody tried to take him from under my nose. I’m like that with men, you know — possessive. There are a certain few whom I regard as my own property, and he happens to be one of them. No matter how much the gossips may speculate about his marrying that ginger-haired Maureen Lyntrope, he’s going to remain my property. See?”
Ann said coldly, “I think you’re talking a lot of nonsense, Beverley. I’d better call you that, hadn’t I?”
“Really, why should you?”
“If I’m supposed to be your sister, I can’t address you as Mrs. Derhart.”
“I don’t see why you should pretend to be Anne. It’s a completely ridiculous idea of Mummy’s,” Beverley said in a sulky voice.
“Maybe,” Ann returned, “but imagine what would have happened last night, if I hadn’t been here.”
“There are trained nurses at the Institute. Some of them were here in the room when I
Similar Books
