Esmeralda. Бетти Нилс

and embarked on the daily dressings when Sister Richards stalked up the ward once more.

      ‘X-Ray,’ she said in tones of umbrage. ‘You’re to go at once, Staff Nurse.’ And then in quite a different voice, letting Esmeralda see the motherliness which only her little patients knew about: ‘What’s the matter, child? Is that foot of yours being a nuisance?’

      ‘I was going to tell while we had coffee,’ Esmeralda told her breathlessly, and poured it all out in an excited spate of words.

      ‘H’m—well, there’s no knowing what that foreign man can do, I suppose—the children like him, so I suppose there’s some good in him.’ She reverted to her usual brisk manner: ‘Go along, Staff Nurse, you’re keeping them waiting.’

      It was a pity that when Esmeralda returned to the ward it was to find that Leslie had paid his morning visit and had gone again, now it wasn’t likely that she would see him again that day. He had said nothing about seeing her again; nothing certain—although he had hinted that he hoped that their evening out would be one of many, and though he hadn’t kissed her, he had held her hand for quite a long time. Esmeralda, who was old-fashioned and way behind the times in such matters, thought that that constituted quite a step forward. She spent the rest of the day in a rather dreamlike state, wondering about Leslie’s real feelings towards her. She wondered about her feelings towards him too, for somewhere at the back of her mind was an uncertainty that the whole thing might be moonshine: she wasn’t such a fool that she didn’t realize that his interest in her might be fleeting and casual.

      But something happened to change that; she was going off duty, her limp rather more pronounced than usual because she was tired, when Leslie caught up with her as she crossed the inner courtyard.

      ‘So you’ve been X-rayed,’ he remarked in an interested voice, and when she asked in surprise how he knew that: ‘I was down there an hour ago, looking at Benny’s last lot of X-rays, and I happened to see the report on yours. They’re in a mighty hurry, aren’t they? Getting the report out within a few hours—what’s the haste?’

      ‘I don’t know, unless Mr Bamstra asked them to be quick with it.’ She glanced at her companion’s face, but it looked unconcerned.

      ‘You’ll tell everyone, of course?’ he wanted to know. They had reached the Nurses’ Home. ‘Oh, yes—and it’s my weekend, so I can go home.’

      He smiled charmingly at her. ‘Would it be an awful nerve if I offered to drive you? It’s my weekend too.’ He added softly: ‘And I’m very anxious to know more about it and that you should do the right thing, Esmeralda.’

      She stared up at him, trying to read his face. She asked bluntly: ‘Would you be glad if my foot could be put right?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Why?’

      ‘My dear girl, do I have to dot the I’s and cross the T’s? Of course I would be glad, although you are quite delightful as you are—still, if you’ve set your heart on it…’ The smile came again. ‘I must admit that a doctor’s wife who can dance and play tennis and generally keep her social end up is a great asset.’

      ‘Oh,’ said Esmeralda, and then again: ‘Oh—well, it would be very nice if you drove me home. You’d stay the night, wouldn’t you?’

      He masked triumph with another delightful smile. ‘I’d like to very much—wouldn’t it be inconvenient for your people, though?’

      ‘Mother won’t mind, and there’s plenty of room— I’ll telephone her tomorrow.’

      He caught her hand briefly and gave it a squeeze, and then because a small party of nurses had almost reached them, said a brief goodbye and strode away. Esmeralda, joining her companions, spent the evening in a dream, from which she was impatiently roused by her friends from time to time. ‘Anyone would think that you were in love,’ declared Pat Sims, the staff nurse on the Medical side and one of her closest friends. Esmeralda longed to say ‘I am’ and dumbfound them all, but she held her tongue.

      They drove down to the New Forest on the Friday evening—it had been a hot, sunny day and now the warmth was tempered by a small breeze. Esmeralda, in a cool cotton dress, sat contentedly beside Leslie, hardly noticing his impatient driving, her thoughts already far ahead of her, wondering if her mother and Nanny would like him, and what he would think of her home. Once through the worst of the traffic, however, Leslie relaxed a little and laid himself out to entertain her, and the journey passed quickly enough, although she thought secretly that he drove a good deal too fast, and felt relieved when they turned off the A35 on to the open road which would lead them to Burley. It was still light, but the sky had paled and the road ribboned between rolling heath and patches of forest, fading into twilight ahead.

      ‘There are ponies,’ she warned him. ‘They roam everywhere.’

      ‘I know that,’ he began impatiently, and then gave an apologetic laugh. ‘Sorry, I must be getting tired—that was quite a list we had this morning.’

      Esmeralda was instantly sympathetic. ‘And Mr Peters goes like the wind, doesn’t he?’

      Leslie grunted. ‘That Dutchman was there—scrubbed too…showing off…’

      She heard the malice in his voice. ‘You don’t like him.’ She started and realized at that moment that she did.

      ‘Oh, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that. He’s so damned sure of himself, though, just because he’s perfected a method of correcting crushed bones—why, anyone could do that.’

      ‘Then why haven’t they?’ she demanded sharply, ‘And that’s a beastly thing to say, for he’s not here to defend himself.’

      Leslie pulled the car savagely round the next bend and had to brake hard to avoid a pony in the middle of the road. He said grudgingly: ‘Sorry again, I told you I was tired—perhaps I shouldn’t have suggested bringing you.’

      She protested warmly at that. ‘And if you’re tired, a day at home will be just the thing,’ she assured him. ‘Mother loves having people to visit her and Nanny will spoil you.’

      But Nanny did no such thing. Esmeralda, getting ready for bed in her own pretty room, looked back on the evening with mixed feelings. Her mother had been delighted to see her; she always was, for they were devoted to each other, and she had welcomed Leslie with gracious friendliness. They had gone into the low-ceilinged sitting room, with its oak beams and beautiful furniture, and had drinks and Leslie had looked about him and made just the right remarks about everything. He had been impressed, and that had pleased her; she loved her home, and his low whistle of involuntary admiration and surprise as they had approached the house had delighted her, for it was indeed beautiful—not large, but perfect of its kind and set in charming grounds of some size, and he had been just as impressed when they went inside.

      It was Nanny who had come to take him to his room. She had entered the sitting room, a round, old-fashioned, cosy woman, no longer so young; submitted to Esmeralda’s affectionate hugs with obvious pleasure and had then said her how do you do’s very correctly, her sharp brown eyes taking in every inch of the young man as she led him away.

      It had been an hour later, while they had been waiting for her mother in the drawing room, that Leslie had commented, half laughing: ‘Your Nanny doesn’t like me, I fancy.’

      Esmeralda had told him that Nanny quite often didn’t like people when she first met them, which was fairly true but a little disturbing, for she had wanted everyone to like him. She frowned as she got into the little fourposter bed she had slept in all her life; she wasn’t quite sure about her mother either. Her parent had been just as she always was, a delightful hostess, a pretty, middle-aged woman, thoughtful for her guest, prepared to entertain and be entertained, and yet there had been something… Esmeralda rearranged her pillows and frowned heavily in the dark.

      It had been a pity that Leslie had made that remark about the silver in the display cabinet—lovely old stuff, worth a fortune, he had said, and although Esmeralda had seen no change in her mother’s expression, she knew