Busman's Holiday, page 19
I was so pleased he had said that and from his expression, so was Sir Martin. For a little Aunt Joey could only smile mistily, then she kissed us both.
Sir Martin shook David’s hand and gravely kissed my forehead. ‘I trust you’ve no objection to my thus saluting your fiancée, Loftus?’
‘None at all, sir!’
Sir Martin gave me a confidential nod. ‘I was pretty sure I’d get away with it, Frances, seeing he was once one of my students. However, to be safe, I thought I’d follow your excellent example when that ash branch fell and act first, then discuss it!’
We all made a great fuss of Psmith who was so enchanted he all but purred. Then Sir Martin announced his garments were too disreputable for Miss Allendale’s sitting-room, but as he would much like to see how well the cuttings she had brought down from her northern garden were flourishing in the good soil of Arumchester … and I was back in David’s arms directly the door closed.
Later, I asked, ‘David, do you think one day those two might ‒ well ‒ might?’
‘Sweetheart, be careful.’ His arms tightened protectively. ‘I feel as you do, but don’t hope too hard as you’ll be so hurt if that hope’s disappointed.’
‘I just can’t help hoping as they’re both so sweet. And Aunt Joey’s had to miss so much.’ I told him about the young man she had loved as a girl and how he had been killed early in World War II, before they could marry or share the sweet glory that was now ours. ‘In all the years after, she’d no time to meet some other nice man. She was too busy caring single-handed for Gran, Grandad, the house, garden, having Nicky, me, and the boy cousins for holiday after holiday when we were all growing up. All our family kept saying “Joey’s wonderful, the way she copes”, and I don’t think they ever meant to impose upon her, but as she coped so well it sort of got taken for granted that she should. I’m ashamed to say,’ I added sadly, ‘Nicky and I were grown-up before we realised how much she had given up for us all, that she wasn’t just “dear old Aunt Joey”, but a sweet-looking woman who had once been a pretty girl and must’ve had the secret dreams and hopes all girls and women have.’
His eyes darkened with compassion. ‘I know, Fran. In medicine, one keeps meeting the Aunt Joeys of this world, and longs to give them the break their very real responsibilities and shining unselfishness, prevents them from taking, or making, for themselves. They seldom, if ever, ask for help, but if any women needs it from relations, friends and neighbours, they do. Old Mr. Thornton obviously realised that from his visits to his old friend, your grandfather, and that’s why he left Aunt Joey this little house. It’s why I’ll always be as glad to help her as Nicky and yourself.’ Lovingly, he smoothed my hair back from my face. ‘Once, she must’ve looked much as you do now, darling. And had your dreams and hopes, as did Martin Blake. Men do both just as much as women.’
I sighed. ‘I know he had a brilliant career, but his home life wasn’t too happy, was it?’
‘I’m afraid not, though like Aunt Joey, I expect he was too busy to be unhappy. One needs time for that, as for every other aspect of life.’
‘They aren’t so busy now, and I’m afraid both will so often be lonely.’
‘Unless they’ve managed to transform loneliness into that much more pleasant, even precious state, solitude. And at their present ages, both may be too content with their orderly lives to wish for any change.’
I clung to him for comfort as my happy heart still ached and ached. ‘You’re so wise, but I just can’t bear to think of all those dreams that never came true, though I know that’s daft. Dreams don’t really come true. That’s why they’re dreams.’
‘Is that so?’ He kissed away my tears. ‘Take a look out of that window, honey.’
I obeyed, puzzled.
The unsettled day had settled into a lovely evening. The calm blue sky was shot with pink and gold; the birds were beginning to fly home in pairs; and behind the pink terraced houses opposite, the lace towers of the cathedral glowed a deep rose in the setting sunshine. Arumchester was serenely settling down for the quiet night just as it had done for centuries.
‘So dreams can’t come true?’ David’s tone had turned as dreamy as his expression. ‘What are those beautiful towers reaching up to the sky? A mirage?’
‘No, of course not! But ‒’
‘Just an exquisite example of medieval ecclesiastical architecture? Oh, no, my love, oh no! Before the first mason carved the first stone, the first builder carried the first hod, and the first foundations of that cathedral were laid, a man had a dream in his mind. Being a man of genius he was able to draw his dream on parchment. And over one thousand years later, there it is, for real!’ He paused. Then, ‘Aren’t the lives Martin Blake’s surgery has saved as real as those towers? And would you like to know fundamentally why, in his words to me?’ I nodded, gratefully.
‘He said, “As a young house surgeon I conceived an idea that struck many of my professional colleagues as too far-fetched for application; nevertheless I continued to hope I might one day be able to put it into action to the benefit of my patients.” And he did.’ His dreamy eyes rested on my face. ‘Wouldn’t some describe far-fetched ideas as dreams? Don’t we all have ’em, and if not of splendour, they seem splendid enough to us. And whatever the cynics care to say, it remains a glorious fact that in ordinary, everyday life; every now and then, dreams do come true. Like now, honey.’ His voice trembled. ‘Like now.’
We married at the end of that October, a month after Helen re-married in New York. Sir Martin flew back in time for our wedding and looked wonderfully distinguished in morning dress. Aunt Joey looked charming in the stone-coloured silk coat-dress and matching picture hat Nicky and I pressured her into buying, but if she and Sir Martin exchanged more than two words throughout our wedding, neither my cousin nor I spotted it. As we were all so happy, that could have been, as we could not see for the stars.
Through the helpful co-operation of my Matron, the week after David and I returned to the square from our honeymoon in Malta, I started work as a junior theatre sister in Arumchester County Hospital.
Shortly after, Sir Martin gave a dinner party for Aunt Joey, David and myself. It was the first time our elders had met since our wedding and when the invitation had arrived, nothing I said had been able to alter Aunt Joey’s conviction she had only been asked as a compliment to David and me. Sir Martin was a most considerate host, but his impeccable manners were so formal, and in his elegant dinner-jacket with his fine white-grey head sprucely groomed, he looked so very much the great man he was, that over our pre-dinner sherry I saw Aunt Joey retreating more firmly behind her quietly polite shell of shyness with every passing minute. I glanced at David for comfort as we all went into dinner, but as he was helping Aunt Joey to her chair didn’t think he had noticed. Until he cracked the ice with the problems my new job was causing me.
‘As operating theatres are so similar and the staff work in disguise, the poor girl has constant difficulty remembering she’s in Arumchester and not London. And whenever anyone says “Sister”, she looks round wondering why Sister doesn’t answer! But what really throws her is being addressed as “Sister Loftus”.’ He glanced at me through his lashes as we all laughed. ‘Must admit that has the same effect on me.’
Sir Martin said I had all his sympathy as he’d been equally disorientated when he ceased to be Mr. Blake. ‘I kept wondering what this Martin man was doing in my theatre. On one particularly demanding occasion when my concentration on the work in hand was complete, I reminded my very excellent Sister Theatre most strongly that I only allowed strangers to watch me operating from the gallery. ‘Tell this Martin to watch from up there!’ I insisted. Sister Theatre tactfully said, ‘Yes, Mr. Blake,’ and waited until the work was done to acquaint me of my error. Regrettably, Miss Allendale,’ he added smiling, ‘I had a somewhat tyrannical reputation in the operating theatre.’
She forgot her shyness. ‘I can’t believe that!’
He chuckled. ‘You ask young David! Eh, boy?’
David’s eyes danced. ‘Well, sir ‒ er ‒ nice weather for the time of year, isn’t it?’
From then on we all had a delightful evening.
Later that night, I said, ‘David, don’t you think ‒’
‘That it’s high time my wife was back in her husband’s arms? Yes! Please, come here!’
Nicky spent Christmas with Aunt Joey and her ‘steady’ Charles was with them more often than not. Occasionally, Sir Martin called at the house. Occasionally he escorted Aunt Joey to a concert or lecture.
Easter was a repeat of Christmas.
Nicky crossed the square to explode to me, privately. ‘They’re still Sir Martin and Miss Allendale to each other!’
‘David says their more formal generation prefers formality.’
She pulled one of her faces. ‘Fran and Nicky, Inc. Limited may’ve been experts at moving house, but we’re grotty matchmakers!’ She groaned. ‘I know what’ll happen! I won’t get a degree next month. Charles won’t get a decent job when his research work ends in June. And when we’re all old and grey, they’ll still be Sir Martin and Miss Allendale to each other! Feel it in my bones!’
I told David about Nicky’s bones.
‘An excellent pre-exam syndrome. She’ll get a good degree.’
She did and we were all delighted.
In early July David and I were able to combine our holidays and spent ten days touring the Scottish Highlands by car. On our last morning, David returned to our room after settling the bill, with the stack of mail that had chased us from hotel to hotel and finally caught us up. ‘Three for you, Fran. I’ve glanced through mine. Nothing urgent.’ He sat in the armchair by the window overlooking the blue loch and purple hills, drew me onto his knees, folded his arms round me and closed his eyes lazily. ‘I shall meditate on the joys of lotus-eating whilst you catch up on your family’s news.’
I read first the air-mail letter from my parents in Singapore. ‘Both fine and they hope to be back in the UK for Christmas.’
‘Jolly good. Think they’d like to come to us? Do ask them.’
‘Thanks, love.’ I kissed him, then held Nicky’s card for him to read with me.
He kept his eyes shut. ‘You tell me what she says.’
I frowned. ‘Her writing’s worse than ever! Something about Charles doing something wonderful with computers ‒ so he must have a job! Goody! What’s this ‒ oh yes ‒ they’ll both be in Arumchester next week and there’s a scribble over the printing at the top. Can’t read ‒ oh yes! Fran and Nicky Inc. Limited back in business ‒ who’s moving house, I wonder?’
He kissed my neck. ‘Open Aunt Joey’s. She’ll know.’
‘Right.’ I slit the envelope, took out the letter and scanned the first side. ‘She hopes we’re having an interesting tour and good weather ‒ they’re having very good gardening weather ‒ Sir Martin’s roses are doing well ‒ the new lodger is very pleasant and getting very fond of Psmith ‒ Aunt Joey says can we possibly have Psmith for the last week in August and first two in September ‒’ I looked up before turning over. ‘What’s the joke?’
‘Can’t a man smile at his own wife? Read on!’
‘ “as” ‒ David! R-read this super news!’
Smiling, he kept his eyes closed. ‘In late August Aunt Joey is marrying Martin Blake in Arumchester Cathedral and they’re spending their honeymoon at the Edinburgh Festival.’
‘Wretch!’ I shook him for joy. ‘You knew and never told me!’
He laughed. ‘Don’t attack your defenceless husband, darling. So bad for his vibrations. I didn’t know, though I’ve guessed this was coming for some time. As guesses can go disappointingly wrong, I kept it quiet.’
‘But how did you guess it all so gloriously right?’
‘Why else would Fran and Nicky Inc. be back in business? Would Aunt Joey leave her beloved old Psmith even happily with us, for anything less? Those are the Edinburgh Festival weeks ‒ what better choice for two ardent music lovers. Literally, both live in the shadow of the cathedral and regard it as their parish church. Naturally, they’ll be married there. And knowing her letters so well, I know Aunt Joey always keeps the best news till last.’
I hugged him. ‘You’re so wonderful! And I’m so thrilled for them!’
‘I’m not at all wonderful, Fran, though you make me feel it. I couldn’t be more pleased! I think they’ll have a happy and tranquil life together ‒ and my Miss Allendale will make a very charming Lady Blake.’
‘Aunt Joey!’ My eyes filled with happy tears. ‘David, do you remember at the end of that long drive south when we took the old Pilgrims’ Way over the downs to Arumchester? And as we drove down the last hill and across the small plain we heard the bells ringing out over the city and the river? And you said they were ringing to welcome Aunt Joey?’
‘I remember,’ he said softly, ‘so well.’
‘Just think! Now, they will, they really will ring! Just for Aunt Joey!’
For quite some time we smiled at each other in an enchanted silence. In that silence, as David told me later, we both seemed to hear the glorious old bells of Arumchester singing more sweetly than ever before.
And that was how they sounded one lovely afternoon in August, when every member of the Allendale family in the United Kingdom came to Arumchester, and Martin Henry Blake married Joanna Frances Allendale.
Also by Lucilla Andrews
If you enjoyed Highland Interlude, you will also want to read these other stories by Lucilla Andrews.
The Print Petticoat
A moving story of heartache and hope in the Maternity Unit of a busy 1950s teaching hospital.
Joanna Anthony is a dedicated Nursery staff nurse at St Gregory’s Hospital. The nurses and doctors share laughter and tears as they tend to the mothers and babies in their care.
There is time for romance, too. After five years together, is ambitious Dr Richard Everley finally ready to settle down with Joanna? And what of the two other young doctors who have more than a professional interest in her?
It takes a serious illness for Joanna to understand where, and with whom, her future really lies.
Read The Print Petticoat from Amazon UK
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Read The Print Petticoat from Amazon AUS
The Secret Armour
There’s romance for Nurse Maggie on the wards of a 1950s teaching hospital. But is she in love with the wrong man?
Nineteen-year-old nurse Maggie Howard is completing her training at St Benedict’s Hospital. Life on the ward is hard and the Sisters are strict, but Maggie and her set mates, Alice and Rose, love their work. That’s not all that Maggie loves, when against all advice she falls for a dashing patient, David Corford.
Maggie will experience happiness, heartache and misunderstandings. And throughout the emotional ups and downs, young houseman George Hartigan is always there to provide a shoulder to cry on.
Will Maggie risk her career and future happiness over her love for a handsome patient?
Read The Secret Armour from Amazon UK
Read The Secret Armour from Amazon.com
Read The Secret Armour from Amazon AUS
The Quiet Wards
Young nurse Gillian Snow is blamed when a dangerous drug goes missing during her shift on the ward of a 1950s teaching hospital. But who took it?
Twenty-one-year-old Nurse Gillian Snow finds her career in jeopardy when a dangerous drug disappears from the drug cupboard under her care. The situation also affects her romance with dashing house-surgeon Peter Kier.
Moved from her ward to do other duties, Gillian experiences the happiness and heartache that comes from nursing both children and accident victims.
As she struggles to understand who took the drug, and why, Gillian finds support and truth from some unexpected quarters.
Read The Quiet Wards from Amazon UK
Read The Quiet Wards from Amazon.com
Read The Quiet Wards from Amazon AUS
The First Year
Rose Standing has a lot to learn about hospital life, patients ‒ and romance, during her first year as a probationer nurse at St Martin’s Hospital in 1950s London.
Twenty-year-old Rose has a reputation for being accident-prone and absent-minded. Does she really have what it takes to make a good nurse?
The biggest question on Rose’s mind is whether the Senior Surgical Officer, Jake Waring, will even notice her existence. Are her daydreams about a romance between them destined to remain a fantasy?
Rose discovers that each department has its own heartaches and joys as she gains experience on the men’s surgical, women’s medical, and Casualty wards.
Meanwhile, handsome student doctor Bill Martin shows a keen interest in Rose. But she has her suspicions about his motives.
A moving and heart-warming story of a young nurse, and the challenges she faces on the hospital wards and in her personal life.
Read The First Year from Amazon UK
Read The First Year from Amazon.com
Read The First Year from Amazon AUS
A Hospital Summer
In the summer of 1940, Clare Dillon is a V.A.D. in an English military hospital, nursing the wounded as the bombs fall.
Twenty-year-old Clare must rise to the challenge of nursing in wartime. Whether giving comfort to a dying soldier, or assisting in a birth during an air raid, she has to remain clear-headed and professional.
Clare is not only dealing with problems at the hospital. She is also worried for the safety of her brothers, who are both in the forces. Then the Dunkirk evacuation changes her world forever.
With the medical emergencies and bombings, it’s no wonder Clare doesn’t have time to think about the attention she’s getting from young medical officer Joe Slaney. But she surprises herself when news about Joe makes her face up to what she really wants for the future.
