Nurse Trent's Children (3 page)

When he answered her she saw that her conjecture was still correct in a way. “
I
happen,” he drawled, “to be Redgates’s medical adviser. Obligatory, of course.
I
have the mischance to have a practice at Burnley Hills.”

“Burnley Hills?”

“Where Redgates is located.”

There was a pause.

Cathy said impulsively, “How can you be so sarcastic about it all? You are established in the world. You even have your own practice, and I thought that practices were not come by cheaply in Australia.”

“This one was. It cost me exactly nothing. Burnley Hills ten years ago consisted of perhaps twenty houses and one institution belonging to the Little Families foundation.”

“You started your own practice?”

“Yes. People laughed. They said Burnley would not be ready for one for years. They said the place was stagnant. I thought differently and I was right. When building started seriously again a year or two ago new districts were opened up. Burnley was one of them. I now have more patients than
I
can comfortably cope with, and the place is still growing.”

“So,” said Cathy, “the credit is entirely Dr. Malcolm’s.”

He inclined his head toward the crowd. “One of the
VI
Ps seems to be looking around for you. Probably has some more pink icing. I’ll wait, Miss Trent.”

“No need to.”

“There is need. I am transporting you to Burnley Hills.”

“But why?”

“Why not? I live there, and my car is much more comfortable than that bus. Besides...
”

“Yes?”

“I was particularly requested by the authorities to oblige. They are very anxious to give you a good first impression. They decided my car and my company would do that beautifully. To keep the peace I complied.
”

“That must have irritated you, when you wanted to be on your way.”

“Not
u
n
duly.”

“Then it must be annoying for you to have to stand around and watch something you do not believe in.”

“On the contrary, I find it rather amusing. Also, Christabel has stopped me from becoming bored.” He patted the little girl’s head.

“She must come along now and join the others.” Cathy’s voice was definite. One of the things she had learned in England was never to give one child more liberties than another. She did not know what was in Dr. Malcolm’s mind, but if he had intended allowing Christabel the privilege of traveling in the car, she had no intention of permitting it.

He looked at her through narrowed eyes. “You don’t believe in spoiling children, do you?” he taunted. “You welfare workers always run to the same pattern. A practical mind and a heart of flint.”

Cathy bit her lip. “It’s the others I am considering,” she defended. “It would not be fair if one was chosen to travel differently.”

“I want to go in the bus,” clamored Christabel in a definite tone.

“Then that, at least, is settled,” said Dr. Malcolm.

Cathy did not answer him. She went back to the party on the wharf.

A round of handshakes, a rather wistful goodbye to David Kennedy, then the girls were settled satisfactorily in the bus.

“Dr. Malcolm is taking you, Miss Trent,” fussed one of the
VIPs.
“We’re terribly proud of the doctor. He’s one of our most famous boys. He’s been in England for nine months doing some sort of postgraduate work, but of course you would know all about that, traveling out on the same ship. I believe he worked his way back the same as
h
e worked his way over. That would be typical of our Dr. Jerry.”

Cathy smiled politely and murmured something suitable, shook the last of the hands, then waved away David and the boys. She was relieved to see that neither Tony Curtis nor George Bannerman seemed at all upset at being parted from their sisters; nor had the sisters evinced any undue concern. Slowly and a little unwillingly she made her way back to where Jeremy Malcolm waited.

“Are you filled up with cake and lemonade, or do you think you could manage some tea?”

“I would love a cup of tea. Can we? Hadn’t we better push off and catch up with the rest?”

“The girls will go first to Hope House for a few preliminaries.”

“Such as?”

“More welcome talks, probably more pink icing, then such articles of clothing as the English foundation omitted to include.”

“They didn’t omit anything,” defended Cathy indignantly.

“They have bathing suits? Sandals? Shorts?”

As Cathy looked surprised, he said, “I thought not. We’re in Australia now, remember. The emphasis will be on outdoor exercise, not snakes and ladders. I believe we have ample time for tea and can still reach Redgates before them. Anyway, I have to go to the other end of town to pick up my car.” He had hailed a taxi and was helping Cathy in.

They left the waterfront and climbed a steepish hill into the sophistication of the southern city. The taxi left them off at a busy comer, and Jeremy Malcolm put his fingers under her arm and guided her through the dense crowds. “I didn’t think it would be as busy as this,” said Cathy ruefully. She was glad when he led her into the cool seclusion of a small lounge.

“What brought you out here?” he asked after the tea had arrived. “Love of children, desire for fresh fields, or simply a job?”

“The last,” she said briefly.

He raised his brows. “You could do better than Little Families then. Steno jobs, for instance, are extremely well paid in Australia.”

“I am not a stenographer. I have never done any typing.”

“No? I suppose you were a lady of leisure then.” He did not make it a question, so she did not enlighten him. “Do you think you will like being an Australian?” he asked.

Her retort was quick. “Like you, I am not an Australian.”

He looked up spontaneously at that, as though to protest, and she laughed.

“I don’t think you know what you are,” she accused.

He sat silent a while, frowning.

“I served with the R.A.A.F.,” he said presently, “and I was
proud to. However
...
”

“Yes?”

He pushed aside his cup as though he was vaguely irritated. “Are you finished?” he said almost brusquely, “because if you are we’ll push off.”

At a car showroom on the outskirts of the city proper he took delivery of a big green convertible.

“It’s new,” she exclaimed with surprise.

“
Almost. I shipped it from England on the journey before ours so that I’d be sure I would not be held up. It’s been run in, so we’ll make Redgates in reasonable time.”

They came back to the city’s center and joined one of the lanes across the great bridge.

“There’s your late home,” waved Jeremy Malcolm, and Cathy looked and saw the gleaming white bulk of the berthed
Winona.

They left North Sydney and plied along the smooth Pacific Highway through the prosperous-looking suburbs of the upper side of the harbor.

Dr. Malcolm watched her admiring glances at the beautifully appointed houses with a significant curl of his lip. “It’s not typical,” he stated flatly.

“Is anything typical?” she flung back. “It makes it no less gracious.”

“You are determined to be kind to the natives,” he sneered.

“I realize I only receive what I give,” she returned. “I want the natives, as you call them, to be kind to me.”

For a brief moment his brown eyes left the road and looked fully into her blue ones. “Do you?” he said, and for some reason she felt oddly disconcerted.

“I think they will be kind,” he shrugged presently. “Most people like pink icing.”

The towns were becoming less populated. There were more fields and fewer lawns. The houses now were mostly comfortable asbestos or timber one-level villas, not two-story brick mansions. There were quite a few poultry runs, and each house had its own small orchard.

“Not far to go,” said Dr. Malcolm. “This is Thornvale, neighboring town to Burnley. Some of your girls will attend school here.”

“There is no school at Redgates?”

“No.” Briefly, it seemed to Cathy, he became a little animated. “Sometimes the natives show initiative,” he reported. “This is one instance. The nippers are deposited every day at several different schools. Perhaps five of yours will go locally, five to Thornvale, several farther up to Featherstone, several farther out to Gullybank.”

“Why is that?”

“
There is not sufficient staff available in this overgrown country to supply a personal teacher to Redgates, so the children are sent out for their education. However, one enlightened soul must have realized that to send them
en masse
would be to categorize them as Little Families members. Hence the separation.”

“The sexes, too, I learn, are separated,” murmured Cathy.

Instantly there was silence. It was not a ruminative silence. It was not a comfortable silence. It was a silence fraught with all the quick anger she had noticed in him before.

Cathy wondered why.

He did not enlighten her. For a few moments his foot went hard on the accelerator. When he took it off again it was to negotiate a rather sharp bend into a side lane. A quarter of a mile along he pulled up at a wide cherry-painted entrance.

“Redgates, of course,” smiled Cathy, rather enchanted. She could not help it. The bright scarlet gates were cheerful. The green lawns behind the gates, though not so smooth and lush as the lawns in the Little Families headquarters in England, were wider, more spacious, and very inviting. There were a few planted pines, a dotting of gum trees, and the fluted camphor laurels that David Kennedy had pointed out to her in Melbourne.

Dr. Malcolm opened the gates and they drove slowly through. There were two large buildings of brick, one for the boys, she supposed, and one for girls. She was sorry they were not less imposing and more in number. However, one had to accept things as they were.

The front door of the building before which the doctor drew up the convertible was open. Cathy had a quick and satisfactory glimpse of a home that was lived in and not for show. That was how she wanted it. The floors were bare and stained even in the hall, but there were lavish scatter rugs—and they were
trodden-on
scatter rugs, she noted happily. She had collected two of her present children from an orphanage in the Midlands and remembered with a sadness in her heart the window dressing of rich carpet on which small feet had never pattered. This place had a lived-in, loved air. She was suddenly aware of ten peeping little faces and burst out laughing. To her surprise she found that Dr. Malcolm was laughing as well.

“The young scoundrels. They should be out laying the tables for tea.”

“We did,” called the biggest girl, “but there was nothing to eat. Oh, Dr. Jerry, you’re back.” Suddenly she leaped out of her hiding place and into the arms of the tall man. Nine little females of assorted sizes followed suit.

“Darling Dr. Jerry.”

“Dr. Jerry’s back.”

“Welcome home, Dr. Jerry.”

He accepted it all with return hugs, sly pinches, tickles under remembered susceptible small chins. It was easy to see he was very popular. It was easy to see, thought Cathy, that he had acted a lie when he had evinced indifference to this place. She watched him toss a small fairy into the air and catch and kiss her. Then suddenly he was realizing what the first girl had said. Sharply he repeated it.

“Nothing to eat? What do you mean, Rita? Where is Mrs. Jessopp? And where is Elvira?”

“Elvira’s mother is ill, so Elvira took her Saturday off on Thursday,” babbled nine voices.

A tenth voice, the tall girl’s, informed, “Mrs. Jessopp’s left. She said she’s not going to cook for thirty, not her. She’ll be back for her little bag though, because Gwenda and I hid it. She looked everywhere, and in the end she said she’d fetch it tomorrow.”

“Why did you hide it, Rita and Gwen?
” “

“
We don’t want her, old cranky puss,” shouted another girl.

Gwen said haughtily, “To inconference her, of course.”

Dr. Malcolm murmured, “Inconvenience, you mean.” Then he said quickly, “You mean to say you children are all alone?”

“Yes, Dr. Jerry.”

“And no tea prepared.”

“No, Dr. Jerry.”

“Don’t forget there are twenty more to come,” reminded Cathy softly by his side.

“Good heavens.” For a moment the man stood dismayed. “When did Mrs. Jessopp go, Rita?” he demanded.

“This morning when the phone rang and Mr. Bell told her there would be thirty by tonight.”

“And Elvira?”

“Elvira was gone by then.”

“You were alone all day?”

“We liked it,” put in Gwen.

“I’ve no doubt. What did you have for lunch?”