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  Charlotte bent nearer to him, and tried to trace the likeness between him as he now was and the boy who had so obligingly obeyed all her behests when she was so very young, and in the attractiveness of his mouth and the square chin below it she thought she succeeded. Richard had always had a polite and rather bright smile for her great-aunt, who had described him as a handsome boy, despite the fact that she had had little or no time for him, and Charlotte thought him an almost startlingly handsome man as he lay with his head in her lap… and this surprised her afterwards, for when people are unconscious they do not normally appear at their best, and yet Richard Tremarth, who was now in his early thirties, actually caused a strange little wrench in the region of her heart as she gazed at him in the cold, unfeeling moonlight and recognised a most peculiar and insidious masculine appeal.

  The fact that he was a hard man – and had wanted to turn her out of her house – was forgotten. When Hannah came running swiftly over the grass and made to lift his head from her lap she protested sharply:

  “Are you absolutely certain it’s safe to move him?”

  “Of course! Unless you’d rather we left him here to contract pneumonia…?”

  They had great difficulty in getting him into the car. Episodes from various films and television plays that she had witnessed returned to Charlotte as they half dragged and half carried him towards the stationary vehicle, and when the most difficult moment arrived and they had to get him on to the back seat he partially recovered consciousness and more or less helped himself. But he relapsed into complete unconsciousness again once they had draped him as comfortably as they could against the back seat.

  Charlotte felt as if her nerve had all but completely gone, and she was only too happy for Hannah to take over the driving and get them back to Tremarth in as short a time as possible. She sat in the seat beside the driving seat and watched nervously in case Richard rolled off the back.

  Within a matter of minutes lights were streaming from Tremarth and

  Hannah was telephoning for a doctor. The latter came in a remarkably short space of time and helped them get Richard inside the house, and on a couch in the drawing-room he finally recovered consciousness and appeared amazed to find them all grouped attentively round him. In particular he appeared to find it astonishing that Charlotte, in her lemon-yellow silk, should be actually down on her knees within a few inches of his face; and when he made the discovery that he was in the drawing-room at Tremarth an oddly gratified smile crossed his face.

  “Strange, he murmured, “very strange.” Then he grimaced at the doctor who was ordering him to he still and not attempt any talking.

  “Don’t be silly, doctor,” he protested weakly. “I gather you are a doctor…?”

  The competent young man who apparently nowadays resided in the village of Tremarth and had taken over old Dr. Tremarth’s practice smiled at him in a cheerful manner.

  “For your sake I hope I’m completely qualified,” he answered. “You’ve got a lump on your head that is going to be very painful in the next few days, and I’m afraid your left arm is broken. You’re going to have to let me set it! ” Tremarth winced.

  “Any other broken bones?” he asked.

  “None that I’ve discovered as a result of a preliminary examination. But on the whole, I’d say you’ve come off rather lightly ”

  Tremarth winced again. The light seemed to be hurting his eyes, and Charlotte switched off the big central light and put on a tall standard lamp instead.

  “What – happened?” Tremarth wanted to know, blinking bewilderedly up at the ceiling.

  “You came to grief in your car. I’m afraid it’s a complete write-off.”

  The eyes of the man on the couch turned almost appealingly to Charlotte. “Car?” he queried. And then a glimmering of intelligence showed between the thick black eyelashes. “Oh, of course, I – I’d stayed out rather late, and I was hoping to get back in time for dinner… ”

  “According to these young ladies you were travelling at about sixty miles an hour.” Richard’s white teeth gleamed.

  “That must be an exaggeration,” he said huskily. “It was on the cliff top, and I’d hardly be breaking records in a confounded sea mist at that elevation. I remember the mist was particularly irritating…”

  “Nevertheless, you’ve smashed up your car, and I’m afraid you’re not going to feel too good yourself for some time. Miss Woodford has a room you can occupy, but I’m not sure you ought to make the effort to get upstairs tonight. I’m not even sure it wouldn’t be best if I packed you off to the hospital straight away. You’ll have to have some X-rays, and you’ll probably need efficient nursing. But I don’t like the thought of jolting you again to-night-” “Of course not,” Charlotte protested, and was amazed because she felt so strongly about it. “It wouldn’t do at all, and in any case Hannah knows a lot about nursing, and Richard

  – Mr. Tremarth,” she corrected herself – “can stay here on the couch to-night, and to-morrow we can see about moving him. We’ve lots of empty bedrooms, and hospitals are always overcrowded…”

  Her voice died away, and she found the doctor smiling at her a little.

  “You can say that again, Miss Woodford,” he observed. “I doubt very much whether I could get a bed for Mr. Tremarth tonight, but tomorrow is an entirely different matter. Tomorrow we’ll have to have a thorough examination.” His eyes swung round to Hannah, standing very slim and shapely in her smart black dress beneath the flattering rays of the standard lamp, and he cocked an eyebrow at her. “What’s this about you knowing something about nursing?” he asked. “You certainly behaved very admirably to-night… and I noticed you seemed to wear a detached air that didn’t interfere with your usefulness when dealing with our friend on the couch here.”

  Hannah explained.

  “I trained for two years in London, and I was actually entering upon my third year when I decided I’d rather not go on. I’m not sure now that I did the right thing in giving it up as a profession, but at least I know enough to do emergency duty to-night if you feel you can trust Mr. Tremarth to me.”

  The doctor studied her appreciatively for a moment, and then nodded.

  “Of course. In any case, I haven’t got very much alternative.” He bent over the patient. “I shall leave you in good hands, Mr. Tremarth, but to-morrow I’ll have to get you moved. You should be quite comfortable on this couch – ” he glanced at Charlotte – ” with some blankets and pillows and things. And now, if you feel up to it, I’ll have a go at that arm.”

  Charlotte withdrew hurriedly in response to a meaningful look from Hannah, and while the mistress of the house rushed round collecting blankets and an eiderdown from the spare room that had luckily been given a thorough airing and spring-cleaning that day Hannah lent her assistance to the local practitioner, whose name was James Mackay.

  The fact that he had red hair and one or two freckles indicated that he was very Scottish; and by the time the minor operation on the arm was over Hannah was of the opinion that he was also a very good doctor.

  Charlotte set milk boiling on the kitchen stove for no reason that she could think of – except that they might all require a hot drink before the evening was over – and carried hot water- bottles as well as the blankets to the door of the drawing-room. She hesitated outside it for a full half minute, but when no sound reached her ears from within she opened the door a mere crack and peeped inside.

  The patient appeared to be resting quietly on the couch, and Hannah and the doctor were over by the window, talking earnestly. Charlotte crept towards the couch and was relieved to discover that Tremarth’s colour was distinctly better than it had been when she left the room, and although his eyes were closed he opened them immediately as she drew near.

  “Thanks, Nurse,” he whispered with a very faint twinkle in the darkly grey eyes. “You may not be even partially qualified like your friend, but you did just as good a job to-night. And I seem to have taken possession o
f your house whether you will or not! ”

  She slipped a pillow under his head and covered him with the eiderdown, and it was obvious that he was very drowsy, for he settled down immediately and appeared to slip away into slumber.

  Hannah came across to her and spoke softly. “He’s had an injection, so he should sleep, but of course I’ll stay with him throughout the night. Dr. Mackay thinks you ought to go to bed and behave normally, but you can relieve me in time to have a bath in the morning. It might be a good idea if we offered the doctor some coffee before he leaves.” “Of course.” Charlotte was only too eager to do something practical, and having switched on the powerful electric fire to increase the temperature for the patient, and tucked in an end of one of his blankets, there didn’t seem much more she could do. So she departed hurriedly once more to the kitchen, made the coffee and brought it back to the drawing room.

  Hannah, she realised, had changed perceptibly in the course of the last hour. The only things that were missing were a crisp cap and apron as she stood talking quietly to the doctor, and Charlotte found herself marvelling that she had ever felt the urge to abandon the profession of nursing. Her professionalism must have impressed Dr. Mackay, for he seemed to forget that she was not even qualified and appeared to have few qualms at the idea of leaving her in full charge of the patient. Just before he took his departure after hurriedly swallowing his coffee he said as he might have said to a nurse at the local hospital:

  “Very well, Nurse, I’ll leave you to take over now and make him my first call in the morning. But of course, if you’re at all alarmed about him in the night you mustn’t hesitate to get in touch with me. However, I don’t think he’ll give you much trouble. He’s pretty tough, and lucky to be alive, anyway! ”

  He nodded goodnight to her, and Charlotte accompanied him out into the hall.

  “I’ll get in touch with the police,” he told her. “I should have done so before, but the patient had to come first. In any case, there’s nothing they can do about the wreck of that car. I suppose the landlord at the Three Sailors will have his home address?”

  “Yes,” Charlotte answered, and that set her wondering whether there was anyone who ought to be informed about the accident – anyone who might be closely concerned because of it. She knew very well that Richard Tremarth had no parents, and somehow she had assumed he was without a wife. But there could be a fiancee, or even

  – she couldn’t dismiss it – a wife!

  She was feeling very thoughtful when she returned to the drawingroom. Hannah had poured herself another cup of coffee, and was sipping it in front of the glowing electric fire. Despite the fact that it was summer time the cold sea mist had lowered the temperature dramatically, and the long drawing-room, with its big windows overlooking the sea, was only just beginning to feel warm and comfortable.

  Hannah nodded at an armchair she had drawn close to the patient.

  “I’ll settle myself there,” she said. “Fortunately, I’m pretty good at keeping awake when it’s necessary, and I don’t think there’s much danger of my falling asleep. But just in case I grow drowsy I’ll read a book.”

  “Can’t I take over half way through the night?” Charlotte suggested.

  “No.” Hannah shook her head. “I promised the doctor I’d be on hand just in case – well, just in case, you know! ”

  “But he’s not badly injured, is he?” Charlotte whispered, with a sudden extraordinary amount of fear in her voice as she moved nearer to the couch.

  Hannah’s reply was almost as non-committal as the doctor’s would have been.

  “We don’t think so, but that was a ghastly crash he was involved in. I’ll never forget the startling explosion when that petrol tank blew up!”

  Charlotte stood looking down at the finely-drawn face on her immaculate pillows.

  “I do hope you and Dr. Mackay are right,” she barely breathed. “I hope he’s not badly hurt! ”

  Hannah flickered a somewhat surprised glance at her.

  “It’s strange, isn’t it,” she mused, “that only an hour or so ago we were talking about him? At that stage I don’t think it would have hurt you very much if you’d heard that he’d jumped into the sea! ”

  Then she smiled unexpectedly.

  “Do you remember what we were talking about only yesterday? About the nursing-home,

  I mean. Well, we’ve got our first patient! ”

  CHAPTER IV

  CHARLOTTE found it impossible to sleep once she retired to bed. For one thing, she had neglected to provide herself with a hot-water bottle, and almost certainly her experiences of the evening had been a shock to her, and in a sense she was suffering from shock.

  She felt chilled, and unable to get warm, and her brain was so alert that sleep, she was sure, would evade her altogether until dawn broke. And as soon as it was dawn she must make absolutely certain that Hannah was relieved.

  But long before dawn cast a pearly light across the sea she had left her bed and paid two stealthy trips downstairs to ascertain whether everything was all right in the drawing room. Opening the door without disturbing Hannah, she saw that the patient was undisturbed on the couch, and Hannah was sitting under the standard lamp with a neglected book open on her lap.

  Charlotte stole back to bed, and ten minutes later decided to get up and dress and go down to the kitchen and make some tea. She had pulled a warm sweater over her head as an accompaniment to a pair of slacks, sponged her face and hurriedly combed her hair, and was creeping along the corridor towards the head of the stairs when a moving shadow in a doorway attracted her attention, and to her horror she saw in the dim light a tall figure swaying precariously and holding on to the jamb of the door at the same time.

  Charlotte fairly raced to his side, and managed to prevent him slipping in a crumpled heap to the floor.

  “What on earth are you doing?” she demanded in tones of the utmost horror. “How on earth did you get up the stairs?”

  Richard answered her in a perfectly lucid but rather faint voice. “Walked up, of course.” He was trying not to lean too heavily on her, because for one thing they were very close to the head of the stairs, and for another she seemed very small in comparison with his height, and close up against him the disparity became very obvious. But in the dim light of the corridor his pallor was alarming, and although his voice was clear his movements were vague. “That couch was so damned cramped. I thought if I could find a bedroom…”

  “But of course,” Charlotte answered soothingly, thanking her stars

  – and his – that she had had a disturbed night, and that even although

  Hannah had obviously succumbed to drowsiness she had not. And she was not even a partially trained nurse! “My room is very close, and if you lean on me you’ll be able to make it. But you must lean on me!” she implored, as he seemed determined to avoid doing so. “I’m not so fragile that I can’t stand a little strain! ”

  A wan smile touched his lips as he glanced down at her in the poor light… and the corridor was very badly lighted indeed. Charlotte made a mental resolve to alter all the bulbs the following day.

  “You don’t seem to me to be a very stout sort of a person. But then you never were, were you? Just a kind of sprite when you were five years old! ”

  “In here,” Charlotte gasped, and urged him with every ounce of her strength to incline towards the open door of her room. Once inside it he seemed to be struck by the very feminine atmosphere, for in the short time at her disposal she had actually transformed it considerably, and in addition to the handsome period furniture and the thick carpet a lot of her things were scattered about, including photographs of her parents, perfume bottles on the dressing-table and some wispy items of underwear lying over the back of a chair.

  “But this is your room! ” he protested.

  “It doesn’t matter. And fortunately the bed is fairly warm. But I’ll get you some hot-water bottles, and wake up Hannah. She must have fallen asleep! ”r />
  “Let her sleep,” he urged, as he settled down thankfully against her tumbled pillows.

  But Charlotte tore downstairs and startled Hannah very nearly out of her wits as she shook her awake. Hannah blinked up at her bewilderedly for a moment, and then leapt up out of her chair as the shock of realisation was borne in on her.

  “Oh, don’t tell me I fell asleep! ” she wailed. “You did.” Charlotte sounded terse, but she was consumed with anxiety for the patient upstairs, and the disastrous effect the walk up the wide staircase might have had on him. She would never have believed, a few days ago, that she could feel such concern for someone who was not closely related to her – and as she had no close relations that made it all the stranger, for she had no yardstick with which to measure the quality of her concern. “But fortunately for you and Mr. Tremarth I’ve hardly closed my eyes, and instead of rolling downstairs he’s upstairs in my bed. You’d better come at once and make certain he’s all right.”

  Hannah needed no second bidding, but flew ahead of Charlotte up the stairs, and into the room her friend and hostess had selected for her own.

  Richard Tremarth must have been very uncomfortable on the drawing-room couch, for the old-fashioned feather bed on the huge half tester that stood in the middle of the pale fawn carpet with big pink roses sprawling all over it had struck him as the next best thing to floating on a cloud when his stiffened limbs had relaxed themselves upon it, and he was already sunk in deep and apparently peaceful slumber. Hannah felt his pulse without disturbing him, satisfied herself that, although quick, it was not actually racing, and sank down on Charlotte’s dressing-table chair with a moan of dismay.