The Nurse's Child Page 4

  'Maybe it's because I know you're sad. Your dad told me that you'd lost your mum and I know what that feels like.'

  Freya saw fire kindling in Amelia's eyes.

  'No, you don't!' she cried. 'Nobody knows. Not even my dad.'

  'I think he knows most of all how you're hurting,' Freya said levelly. 'Why don't you tell him all about it? And, Amelia, I do know how you feel. The same thing happened to me when I was a similar age to you. I hated everybody because I couldn't have my mum.'

  The eyes that were so like her own were fixed on her with a new awareness.

  'Did your father get married again and give you a new mother?'

  'No. Why do you ask?'

  'My dad's friends keep saying that's what he should do. If he does, I'll hate her! I know I will.'

  'I don't know your dad very well,' Freya said slowly, 'but one thing I do know about him is that he isn't going to do that. He told me that he loved your mother too much.'

  Suddenly Richard's daughter was actually smiling.

  'Did he? Did he really? Thanks for telling me that, Sister Farnham... And I'm sorry that you were so unhappy, too.'

  'Oh, believe me, I was unhappy big time, Amelia,' she told her, longing to reach out and hold close the child she wished was hers.

  'So what's going on here?' a voice asked suddenly from nearby, and when they looked up Richard was there. The man of many mantles. Father, GP, medical officer, school governor. And Freya thought that he might find the mantle of father sitting more easily upon him in days to come after the little chat she'd just had with his daughter.

  'Amelia had a headache and was sent out to get some air,' she told him.

  'I'm feeling better now,' Amelia said quickly. 'Er...I'll see you later, Dad.'

  Richard was smiling.

  'You certainly will. And, Amelia...'

  'Yes?'

  'Don't forget that we're eating at Anita's place tonight.'

  The scowl was back.

  'As if I would.'

  'You know Anita, don't you?' he asked Freya when his daughter had gone back inside. 'You'll have met her here at Marchmont and she was there with us that night in the hotel.'

  'Yes, of course,' she said blandly.

  She knew her all right—Anita of the cold stare. She'd just assured Richard's daughter that he had no intention of getting married again. She hoped he'd meant what he said...and if he hadn't, that he had no yearnings towards Anita. For Amelia's sake if nothing else.

  Should she tell him about his daughter's concerns? she wondered. They barely knew each other after all. He might see it as interference. And what would it look like if she were to ask him if he was Amelia's natural father? That she was out of her mind? Her insides turned over at the thought.

  Yet she desperately needed to know. There was the photograph that she'd brought with her of herself at the same age as Amelia, and the likeness was strong, but it could still be coincidence. The only way she was going to put her mind at rest was by asking the big question.

  If her hopes were dashed, this would be the hardest disappointment she'd had to face up to in the long search that had taken over her life.

  She wasn't sleeping well, which was hardly surprising. The nights were full of tremulous yearning and the dread of being rebuffed. Freya longed for Amelia to be hers. But if she was, what would it do to the man who'd already had one of the foundations of his life taken from him to find that the woman who'd given away his daughter was hovering on his doorstep?

  There was something about Richard Haslett that spoke of strength and integrity and, short as their acquaintance had been, she didn't want him to think badly of her or hurt him in any way.

  He was watching her with the thoughtful gaze that made her nervous and her trepidation would have increased if she'd known that he was still puzzling over the feeling of familiarity that was there every time he saw her.

  'I'm surprised to see you here,' she said unevenly, bringing her thoughts back to more mundane matters. 'I haven't got another patient that I'm not aware of, have I?'

  He shook his head as if to clear it and Freya had the feeling that she wasn't the only one whose mind had been elsewhere.

  'No,' he replied. 'I'm here on school business. There's a meeting of the governors today and I'm hoping that it's not going to take too long. I have practice matters to see to, so I shan't be lingering. But before I go to the meeting, can I ask you a question?'

  Freya felt herself tensing. She was the one who should be doing that, she thought tightly, yet her voice was steady enough as she replied, 'Yes, of course.'

  'My daughter, Amelia. You said you would keep an eye on her and I'm obliged. Will you, please, let me know if there's any cause for concern in her behaviour? These are hard days for both of us, but especially for her, and I want to do all I can to make the loss of her mother less painful.'

  She swallowed hard. 'My daughter', he'd said. Richard wasn't to know that she was hoping that Amelia might be hers. Wanting it so badly that she was ready to drop down onto her knees and beg.

  But this was hardly the moment to be putting her own concerns first. He was asking for help...from a stranger as far as he knew...and had no idea that she might turn out to be anything different.

  'Certainly I'll do that,' she said in a low voice, 'but wouldn't Matron be a more suitable person?'

  He shook his head.

  'You're a similar age to her mother,' he told her, unwittingly turning the knife again. 'Amelia will relate to you better.'

  He sighed as an old Bentley pulled up in front of the school buildings.

  'I'd better go. Amos Bradley has just arrived and he likes the meetings to start dead on time. Bye for now, Freya...and thanks for agreeing to look out for Amelia.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  Back in the sanatorium the rest of the day passed quickly with little time to think any more disturbing thoughts.

  A delivery of medical supplies arrived late in the afternoon and they had to be checked over and put in stock. Then, as the final part of another busy working day, Freya spent the last two hours of daylight in the A and E department of the nearest hospital where she'd taken a sixth-form pupil to have her ankle X-rayed after a collision with a hockey stick. .

  When it was confirmed that there, was a break in the ankle joint, they had waited for a plaster cast to be put around the foot, and by the time they were driving back through the village darkness had fallen over the countryside.

  As they passed Richard's house there were no signs of life and she wondered if dining with Anita Frost was a regular thing for them. If it was, Amelia didn't seem to be too happy with the arrangement. Maybe it was from that source that her concerns came about her father remarrying.

  Forget the Hasletts, she told herself. Until you know more about Amelia there's no point in getting yourself in a state over something that might not be true.

  Yet deep down she did have this, strong feeling of affinity with the child...and then there was the eyes. Every time she looked into them it was like looking into her own. They were bleak and beautiful and of the same deep blue. The eyes of an unhappy child, taking her back down the painful years.

  When she'd settled the injured teenager into her dormitory for the night, Freya went to seek out Matron to report on the results of the accident.

  She found Marjorie Tate relaxing with a pot of tea and a magazine, but as soon as she heard that a blow from a hockey stick had resulted in a fracture of the girl's ankle, she got to her feet and rang down to the kitchens to ask them to prepare a late supper for Freya and the young casualty.

  'I'll take it up to her,' Freya offered, but Marjorie shook her head.

  'No such thing, Sister. You've missed your evening meal and what would have been some free time. Go and relax. I'll see to the girl.'

  As Freya turned to go, the other woman surprised her by saying, 'I saw you talking to Amelia Haslett this afternoon. Was there a problem?'

  'No, not really,' she said carefully
, as it occurred to her that here might be a source of information about the Haslett family.

  'Amelia had a headache and had been sent outside for some fresh air. I know that she recently lost her mother and that these are difficult days for her so we chatted for a while. Her father came along while we were talking. He was on his way to a meeting of the school governors.'

  She wasn't going to tell this pleasant, motherly woman that Richard had asked her to look out for his daughter. Marjorie might wonder why he hadn't come to her. She'd thought the same thing herself.

  As she was debating how to bring up the matter of Amelia's parentage, the matron did it for her.

  'She's so like her mother,' she said with a sigh. 'The golden fairness, blue eyes, fine bone structure. Jenny Haslett was a sweet woman. Those two didn't deserve to lose her but, as we all know, life isn't always fair.'

  I'll second that, Freya thought grimly.

  'So it's her mother's looks that she's got, then,' she commented casually, adding in the same tone, 'Amelia has so little resemblance to her father that I thought that must be the case, or that she might be adopted.'

  Matron was smiling, but there was surprise on her face.

  'Oh, I'm sure she's theirs. I imagine we would have heard if Amelia was adopted, even though they've only been here a couple of years. Richard and Jenny moved into the village when he bought the practice. They lived in the Cheltenham area previously.'

  Freya almost groaned out loud. There was no reliable information coming from this source.

  As the days went by she watched and waited, hoping for a sign that would put her mind at rest. Not knowing was frustrating and nerve-racking, but she sometimes thought that it was better than hearing what she didn't want to hear.

  Occasionally in the school corridors or in the dining room Amelia flashed her a tentative smile that told Freya she hadn't forgotten their conversation that afternoon in the school gardens, and it warmed her heart.

  Yet the pleasure was always tinged with dread. If Amelia Haslett was her child, what would she think about a mother who had given her away when she was only weeks old?

  She saw Richard occasionally on his visits to the school and every time the words were there, ready to pour forth, yet she couldn't utter them. How did one ask a man if his child was adopted when it wasn't general knowledge? If he told her to mind her own business, it was all she could expect.

  On a chilly October afternoon Freya had a free period and because he was so often in her thoughts it was a foregone conclusion that she would point her feet in the direction of the village.

  She had an excuse ready. He'd offered to show her around the practice some time, so why not now? she thought as the cluster of golden stone houses appeared on the skyline.

  As she slowly pushed the door open, a man of a similar age to herself was about to leave, and he eyed her questioningly once she was inside.

  'Yes?' he asked. 'The next surgery isn't until four o'clock.'

  'I'm not here as a patient,' she told him, taking note of the suit and the briefcase he was carrying.

  'No?'

  'No. I was wondering if Dr Haslett was around.'

  'And why would that be?'

  His manner was cocky and he was eyeing her with the kind of look that she'd seen many times before and not been impressed by. Was this the junior partner? she wondered.

  'That is my business,' she said coolly.

  'I'm his partner, Garth Thompson,' he volunteered, unabashed. 'Dr Haslett is out on his rounds. Who shall I say called?'

  'Freya Farnham. I'm Sister at Marchmont school.'

  'Ah! I've heard about you. Richard has mentioned you.'

  'Really? Well, I won't keep you...er...Dr Thompson. Maybe I'll find Dr Haslett in another time.' She turned to go, almost colliding with the man she'd come to see.

  'Freya!' Richard said in concern. 'There's nothing wrong with Amelia, is there?'

  She smiled at his devotion to his child.

  'No. She's fine as far as I know,' she reassured him. 'I had a couple of hours of free time and thought I'd take you up on the offer of showing me around the surgery, if it's convenient.'

  'I could do that,' the junior partner suggested quickly, but Richard shook his head.

  'You've got calls to make, haven't you, Garth?' he said levelly, and the other man had no choice but to depart.

  'So how's it going?' Richard asked as he took off his jacket and slackened his tie. 'Any problems up at the school?'

  'No. Not at the moment.'

  'So you've settled in all right?'

  'Mmm. Yes, I have.'

  She wanted this small talk to end, to get to grips with what was uppermost in her mind, but didn't know how to broach it.

  In the short time she'd been at Marchmont they'd got on well, which was good in a working environment. Then there was the other side of their acquaintance. She was attracted to him.

  It wouldn't last. It never did. It couldn't in the circumstances. Anyway, the moment a relationship got off the ground she shied away. Cocky young types like Richard's junior partner she could handle, but she was always uneasy if attracted to an older man, after the way she'd been treated by her father and the faint-hearted tutor.

  There was a pile of patients' notes on a small shelf outside the door of Richard's consulting room, and he reached out and began to scan through the one on top of the pile, asking casually as he did so, 'We haven't ever met before, have we? I feel as if I should know you, yet I don't.'

  A voice inside her head was saying, He's given you an opening. Take the moment. Just because your pulses leap every time you see this man, you can't forget all the years of misery. It's probable that Amelia isn't your child, and if she isn't, you're no worse off than before you met her. If she is...well, you'll have something to live for.

  But the voice that was coming out of her mouth seemed to belong to someone else, a person who was telling him in equally casual tones, 'No. I don't believe we've met before.'

  She almost followed it up with, Maybe I've got a double, but she had, hadn't she, living under his roof? To those who knew her, Amelia resembled his dead wife. And even if she didn't, they weren't going to see any likeness between the child and a complete stranger. Yet she sensed that Richard was puzzled by her.

  He was looking at his watch as if his thought pattern had changed, and it seemed that it was so when he remarked, 'It will be time for afternoon surgery soon, so are you ready for the conducted tour of the village practice?'

  It was small but very compact, with the two partners' consulting rooms side by side, a separate room for the practice nurses beside the reception area and in the basement the computers manned by two secretarial staff.

  'So, what do you think?' he asked when they arrived back at his sanctum.

  'Impressive,' she told him, adding with sudden recklessness, 'Like the man in charge.'

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  'You haven't seen me on a bad day and there are plenty of those at the moment.'

  'Yes. I know,' she told him. 'Loss is a terrible thing.'

  He was serious now, his dark gaze thoughtful.

  'You sound as if you know all about it.'

  Here was another chance, she thought, and knew she wasn't going to take it. Yet she couldn't resist telling him, 'I once lost someone very precious and I've never forgotten it.'

  'Yes,' he said sombrely. 'I remember you telling the school governors at your interview that you lost your mother when you were very young.'

  It was true, she had, but Richard wasn't to know that she was talking about a loss that went far deeper, that of a mother losing her child.

  She could hear voices outside in the waiting room. It sounded as if afternoon surgery was about to commence and she got to her feet and held out her hand.

  As he took it in his she told him, 'Thanks for your time, Richard. It almost makes me wish I'd looked for a position as practice nurse when I decided to have a change from the hospital s
cenario.'

  His grip was firm and cool and he didn't release her hand immediately.

  'You're doing a good job where you are, Freya. The girls of Marchmont School need someone like you to see to their health problems. You're calm, efficient and I imagine you don't let personal feelings interfere with the job.'

  If Richard only knew, Freya thought guiltily as she made her way back to the school. Ever since meeting the man and his daughter she'd been an emotional wreck, and up to now she hadn't done anything to resolve the situation. She was desperate for information but was tongue-tied when it came to asking for it and Richard's and Amelia's feelings were always uppermost in her mind.

  *

  Late in the afternoon of the following day Poppy's beloved Alice presented herself at the sanatorium with a sore throat and a temperature.

  'I'm going to put you to bed and keep an eye on you,' Freya told her friend's placid daughter.

  'Don't tell Mum I'm poorly, will you, Aunt Freya?'

  Alice begged. 'She'll come rushing down, all upset, and I don't want her to be worried.'

  'All right,' she promised. 'Just as long as you take the medicine I give you and make a quick recovery.'

  A sound in the doorway behind her had Freya swinging round, and her eyes widened when she saw Amelia, with her father close behind.

  'Is Sister Farnham really your aunt?' she asked Alice.

  Before she could reply, Freya said quickly, 'Not exactly. Her mother is my dearest friend. I've known Alice since she was a baby.'

  'So is that why you came to work here?' Amelia persisted. 'So you could look after Alice?'

  'Amelia!' her father remonstrated. 'What has it got to do with you?'

  The scowl was there and she was scuffing at the carpet with her school shoe as she'd done on that first never-to-be-forgotten occasion.

  Freya wanted to take hold of her and hug her close until smiles wiped away the scowl, but once again it wasn't the time or the place.

  'I came here for a few reasons,' she told Amelia gently. 'One was because Alice's mother told me there was a vacancy for a medical sister at the school. Another was because I am a nurse. A nurse who hadn't been very well and needed some fresh country air to put the roses back in her cheeks. And as to looking after Alice, it will be in the same way that I care for the rest of you, neither more nor less. Does that answer your question, Amelia?'