Cousin Emma, will sleep downstairs too, there’s a charming alcove in what’s now to be your bedroom, and it just takes a three-quarter bed. You won’t be alone at night then, and also it will save Cousin Emma having to climb the stairs so often.’
The twins, who had been given adjoining bedrooms, went off first, protesting loudly that tomorrow they intended to move themselves and their possessions up to two of the attics. At last all was quiet and peaceful, and the household settled down to sleep, but Joy lay wide awake for a long time, listening to the sound of the sea which was sufficiently close as to be soothing and yet far enough away not to be, at this time of the year at any rate, disturbing.
If coming to Vanmouth meant new life for Lana, then it was indeed wonderful, and she would be grateful to Miss Barnes to the end of her days. If their coming to Vanmouth was going to bring happiness to Quentin Moyser, if he was going to find his happiness with the lovely Lana whom he was so certain he could help to recovery, then Joy was happy for his sake. It would be enough, she told herself, and at the time she firmly believed it, knowing little of the ways and wounds of love, if she could know he was happy and that Lana loved him as Joy felt certain he would love Lana. The adoration, she told herself, was there in his eyes as he looked at her, as it had been in the eyes of so many men, ever since Lana entered her teens.
But Lana had a hard streak which only those who knew and loved her well realized was there. Lana loved money and the power money brought. She joked about it, laughed about it, but all her life she had resented the fact that they were not rich people. Would she love Quentin enough not to mind that he was not unduly wealthy, that although, as he had told Joy, the practice was a good one, there was always a lot of money going out, and he was by no means a millionaire?
‘I won’t let her hurt him,’ Joy vowed as she tried again to settle off to sleep, but even as she closed her eyes she knew there was as yet no answer to the question ... what could she do to prevent such a disaster happening to the man to whom she herself was so suddenly and so deeply attracted?
She was up early and almost ready to leave the house when a young man driving a battered little two-seater ran down the path and knocked at the door. Joy, who had been on the point of opening the door to go out, stared up at him.
‘Nigel Webster, at your service,’ he noted the clean, crisp uniform and grinned at her. ‘I’m a houseman at St Lucy’s, Sister Benyon. Doctor Moyser senior asked me to call and collect you. There isn’t enough accommodation up there at the hospital, so one or two of us live out. I can call for you whenever I’m not on night duty,’ he added quickly, running ahead and opening the door of the car for her. ‘Saves all that walk up the hill. It’s pleasant enough, but a drag.’
‘Nothing like the sharp, steep hill to Wilborough General though,’ Joy said thankfully. ‘I used to be quite breathless when I got to the top if I’d missed the early bus and was a little late. I intend to get some sort of vehicle for myself, though, now we’re here. But,’ she added disconsolately, ‘I’ll have to learn to drive first.’
‘I’ll teach you, if you like,’ Nigel offered. ‘We must get together and arrange it,’ but although she thanked him Joy knew she would do no such thing. She would go to the motoring school of which she had been told. She didn’t intend to start off her career at St Lucy’s by having her name coupled with that of a young houseman, however friendly he appeared to be.
The day passed pleasantly and quickly enough. Joy saw nothing of her sister, although she heard from Nurse Byecroft, a friendly girl who appeared to know whatever was going on in all departments of St Lucy’s, that Lana’s appointment with the specialist was fixed for ten-thirty that morning.
When Joy returned
The twins, who had been given adjoining bedrooms, went off first, protesting loudly that tomorrow they intended to move themselves and their possessions up to two of the attics. At last all was quiet and peaceful, and the household settled down to sleep, but Joy lay wide awake for a long time, listening to the sound of the sea which was sufficiently close as to be soothing and yet far enough away not to be, at this time of the year at any rate, disturbing.
If coming to Vanmouth meant new life for Lana, then it was indeed wonderful, and she would be grateful to Miss Barnes to the end of her days. If their coming to Vanmouth was going to bring happiness to Quentin Moyser, if he was going to find his happiness with the lovely Lana whom he was so certain he could help to recovery, then Joy was happy for his sake. It would be enough, she told herself, and at the time she firmly believed it, knowing little of the ways and wounds of love, if she could know he was happy and that Lana loved him as Joy felt certain he would love Lana. The adoration, she told herself, was there in his eyes as he looked at her, as it had been in the eyes of so many men, ever since Lana entered her teens.
But Lana had a hard streak which only those who knew and loved her well realized was there. Lana loved money and the power money brought. She joked about it, laughed about it, but all her life she had resented the fact that they were not rich people. Would she love Quentin enough not to mind that he was not unduly wealthy, that although, as he had told Joy, the practice was a good one, there was always a lot of money going out, and he was by no means a millionaire?
‘I won’t let her hurt him,’ Joy vowed as she tried again to settle off to sleep, but even as she closed her eyes she knew there was as yet no answer to the question ... what could she do to prevent such a disaster happening to the man to whom she herself was so suddenly and so deeply attracted?
She was up early and almost ready to leave the house when a young man driving a battered little two-seater ran down the path and knocked at the door. Joy, who had been on the point of opening the door to go out, stared up at him.
‘Nigel Webster, at your service,’ he noted the clean, crisp uniform and grinned at her. ‘I’m a houseman at St Lucy’s, Sister Benyon. Doctor Moyser senior asked me to call and collect you. There isn’t enough accommodation up there at the hospital, so one or two of us live out. I can call for you whenever I’m not on night duty,’ he added quickly, running ahead and opening the door of the car for her. ‘Saves all that walk up the hill. It’s pleasant enough, but a drag.’
‘Nothing like the sharp, steep hill to Wilborough General though,’ Joy said thankfully. ‘I used to be quite breathless when I got to the top if I’d missed the early bus and was a little late. I intend to get some sort of vehicle for myself, though, now we’re here. But,’ she added disconsolately, ‘I’ll have to learn to drive first.’
‘I’ll teach you, if you like,’ Nigel offered. ‘We must get together and arrange it,’ but although she thanked him Joy knew she would do no such thing. She would go to the motoring school of which she had been told. She didn’t intend to start off her career at St Lucy’s by having her name coupled with that of a young houseman, however friendly he appeared to be.
The day passed pleasantly and quickly enough. Joy saw nothing of her sister, although she heard from Nurse Byecroft, a friendly girl who appeared to know whatever was going on in all departments of St Lucy’s, that Lana’s appointment with the specialist was fixed for ten-thirty that morning.
When Joy returned
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