“Hello, sweetheart,” he said, smiling. “Up to your old tricks again — making tea?”
“Martin — I’m so glad you’ve come. I was hoping you would.”
“Darling.” He gave her a swift kiss and held her close for a brief moment. “Do you love me?” he asked, releasing her.
“You know I do.”
“When can I see you?”
“I’m off tomorrow evening.”
“Any — engagement?”
“No — except with a text book.”
“That can wait. Meet me in the usual side street at six thirty, eh?”
She smiled, her love shining from her eyes. “All right.” Andrea was glad that on the following day her off duty did not coincide with that of Virginia. Hers was not a secretive nature, but she did not want to tell Virginia that she was meeting Martin or anything of what had transpired between them until she had first talked to him herself.
At six o’clock she hurried out of her uniform, her heart singing at the thought of being with him again. Martin was waiting at the wheel of his car at the appointed place the quiet side street just a short distance away from the main gates of the hospital. She got in beside him quickly, and he started the car, pausing only to put his hand on hers and grasp it lightly for a moment.
When they were well clear of the immediate vicinity of the hospital, he said: “Would you like to go to the Hutt or somewhere first for a meal?”
“Oh, not to the Hutt, Martin. The last time we went there we saw Sister Fisher.”
For a moment Martin stared straight ahead, then he said quietly: “Well, I’d hate to set her off again until——”
He broke off. “The only trouble is — where to go to guarantee her not being there?”
“I know of only one place——”
He glanced at her quickly. “Do you think we should go there — to the flat?”
“Much as I’d love it, darling, no. Do you?”
He smiled and patted her hand. “It’s entirely up to you. sweetheart. Just whatever you say.”
He drove in silence for a while, then as they saw a telephone kiosk he drew up beside it. “I’ve just thought of something, darling. Excuse me for a moment while I make a ‘phone call.’ “
He walked over to the telephone, his dark hair uncovered, his tweed suit seemingly casual but beautifully cut. She watched his face as he spoke to someone over the wire and her heart leapt at the thought that he loved her.
In a moment he was back again, swinging himself into the seat beside her. He turned the ignition key.
“That’s settled,” he said, smiling. “The landlord of The Hanging Gate up on Brecon Hill will put on a meal for us in a little private room he has. O.K.?”
“The Hanging Gate? What an odd name. Has it anything to do with hanging people?”
He laughed. “I don’t think so. Beneath the gate on the sign is a rhyme which goes something like this:
“This gate hangs well and hinders none,
Take your drink and pass right on.’ “
“ ‘Hinders none’ — meaning that there is no toll or something like that, I suppose?”
“Yes, I suppose so. You’ve never been there, then?” “No,” she answered.
“I’m glad. At heart, I’m quite a romantic. I want some places to be just ours alone.”
“Oh, Martin.”
“Yes,” he said, casting a quick glance at her radiant face. “Lucky for you we’re still in a main thoroughfare, otherwise I’d stop here and now and kiss you until you were breathless.”
“Martin!” she protested laughingly. “I had no idea you were like that.”
He grinned boyishly, then said soberly: “I love you.”
It was a warm, mellow evening with scarcely a leaf stirring. They sped along country lanes, passing through tiny villages, where the women-folk sat at open doorways enjoying the peace and cool of evening, and the men smoked a pipe and chatted with his neighbor or just ruminated.
Leaving the villages behind, the road began to twist and wind upwards, until at last a hill, steep and straight, lay before them. Quietly Martin slipped into second gear and the car climbed steadily upwards. With a sudden pang, Andrea wondered how Godfrey’s old car would have made the climb. Poor, dear Godfrey, if only he, too, would meet someone he could love and who would love him in return.
Just as she thought Martin would surely have to change gear again, the road turned sharply and they were at the top. Martin drew on to a grass verge and stopped the car.
“Would you like to take a walk to the site of the old beacon and see the view? It will be dark by the time we’ve had our meal.”
She nodded, looking around. “Oh yes, it looks lovely.” They got out and Martin led the way through a thicket where they crossed a wide sweep of common high up on the hill top.
“This, darling,” Martin said as they reached a tall, stone tower, “is the site of the old mediaeval beacon. From a look out on the coast, a message was sent by means of another fire whenever an invasion, such as the coming of the Spanish Armada threatened our island. As this fire here sprang into life, another one further inland would be lighted until finally, the message reached London.”
“How wonderful — and romantic.”
Martin smiled. “In a way, yes. Look,” he said, pointing down into the valley. “You can just see the sea from here.”
He stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder while he pointed with the other.
“Yes, I see, Martin — and what a glorious view,” she whispered, acutely conscious of his nearness.
His hand tightened on her shoulder and for a short while they stood there in silence. Though each truly appreciated the beauty of the valley laid out before them, they were, for the moment, more enthralled with each other than with nature. His arm slid around her shoulders and together they walked back to the car.
“The Hanging Gate is only just round the next bend,” he said in a low voice. “We’ll go and have supper — you must be getting hungry by now — then we’ll have the rest of the evening to talk over the future — yours and mine, darling.”
It was a simple meal and the landlord served them. Ham with greenhouse tomatoes and pickles, followed by cheese and fruit.
“It’s not quite the setting for champagne, sweetheart/’ Martin said. “But there will be another time.”
They drank refreshing Lager with their meal and afterwards had strong delicious coffee.
“I used not to like coffee,” Andrea said, “but this is wonderful.”
Martin smiled. “Yes. So many people just don’t know how to make it. There’s nothing like a strong, fresh brew with plenty of sugar and cream.” He grew silent as they sipped their coffee. Then presently he said: “Andrea— I hope you’ve forgiven me for behaving so abominably toward you in theatre.”
She gave him a slight smile. “You didn’t really think all that badly of me, did you?”
“Think badly of you? Good heavens, darling, no. I didn’t realize I loved you then, of course, but — well, it’s not very easy to explain. Sister Fisher treated you so disgracefully — I had to do something to draw her attention away from you. I couldn’t see how else to do it. The way she treats her nurses is really out of my province, so that I couldn’t very well speak to her about it without being guilty of interference. George hinted that it was because of my friendship with you that she was treating you so wretchedly. I hated doing it and hoped you would understand.”
She smiled ruefully. “Well, it worked anyhow, didn’t it? She certainly became different. But, oh, how utterly miserable I was. I would rather have felt her biting tongue than know your disapproval. I never guessed that you were doing it for my sake.”
“If I’d reailzed it would hurt you so much, I wouldn’t have done it. But I couldn’t very well tell you. And of course, that’s the only reason I took her to the theatre.”
“Oh, Martin.”
He looked at her. “Did you mind?”
“I was miserable.”
“I was as jealous as hell seeing you with —Godfrey.”
Her face clouded and he gave her a quick glance. “Let’s go and sit in the car and talk a while,” he said. “It’s not quite dark yet. Then we can go back to the hospital just whenever you like. Not too early though, please, darling.”
They sat in the car and watched the sun slowly dip below the horizon and the stars appear one by one. The world was at peace and the air held a strange magical quality.
Martin put his arm around her and drew her gently to him, kissing softly the dark hair at her temples. “Andrea, my darling,” he said softly. “Tell me again — do you love me truly?”
She turned her face to his. “Absolutely and always.”
His arm tightened about her. “Will you marry me, Andrea?”
“Martin — Oh Martin,” she breathed. “Of course I will.”
“Andrea——”
He caught her to him and kissed her soft lips, long and ardently, and in that kiss she learned at last the difference between ‘fondness’ and love. She returned his kiss unreservedly. He brushed his lips across the soft smoothness of her cheek.
“I love you, I love you——”
“Oh, Martin, I never knew that love could be like this.” He smoothed her hair. “Darling, you were not exactly engaged to Godfrey, I know. Will you be able to tell him about us without hurting yourself too much?”
“It — it won’t be easy, Martin, but I must. I have promised to see him the day after tomorrow — my day off. I will tell him then. It will hurt him at first, I suppose, but perhaps when I’m out of the picture, he will meet someone else.”
“Darling, he is sure to. I have always found it difficult to understand how a person’s love can endure when it is not reciprocated.”
They were both thoughtful for a time, then Martin said: “Will you be willing to curtail your training, Andrea? I love you too much to be able to wait three years or so to marry you.”
“Martin — I can do both surely? Nurses do, nowadays, don’t they ?”
“Quite often yes. But of course, there’s always the chance of a baby coming along,” he reminded her gently.
She glanced at him shyly. “Well, in that case, the question would settle itself. But, Martin — if we become engaged——”
“We are engaged — since you have just consented to marry me,” he interrupted.
She smiled. “What I was going to say was, won’t our engagement — if it becomes known — cause too much talk in the hospital? I don’t want to leave, not for a while.
I really would like to carry on for a little while, at least. I’m finding things terribly interesting, and any knowledge of your job I can gain will make me all the more fit to be your wife.”
He stroked her dark hair lovingly. “You shall do just whatever you wish, sweetheart, though you’re more than just right as you are for my wife.”
She smiled. “Seriously though, I think it would be better if we kept our love secret for a while. Matron would certainly disapprove of her senior surgeon being gossiped about.”
“It may create a precedent to have a student nurse married to one of the hospital surgeons,” Martin replied, “but there’s no law against it.”
He gathered her to him, kissing her lips, her hair, her eyes. “Oh, my darling, I think I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you, bending over your patient in defiance of etiquette.”
A great happiness surged through her very being.
Andrea and Virginia stretched out lazily on a sand dune enjoying the afternoon sun. After a late breakfast at the hospital, they had spent the morning shop-window gazing in Cliftonville. During lunch, Andrea had striven to find an opening in which to tell Virginia about Martin and herself and of her intention to break the news to Godfrey that evening. Somehow, Virginia always seemed to feel so acutely for Godfrey, and Andrea had no desire to feel any more wretched about things than she did already. She shrank from the ordeal of telling Godfrey that she could never marry him but it was no use funking it. Before Martin and she had parted the other evening, Martin had agreed to Virginia being told of their news. George, he said, already knew. Later, when Andrea went to meet Godfrey, Virginia was meeting George, and so Andrea wanted her to hear the news from herself. She and Godfrey were spending the evening at the house of some friends. It was on the way home from there that Andrea planned to tell Godfrey.
The tide was at its lowest ebb. The two girls watched the sun sparkling on the distant water like the jewels they had gazed at in the shop windows.
“Andrea,” Virginia said suddenly. “What’s troubling you? You’ve been lapsing into queer little silences all morning. In fact, you seem to have had something on your mind for a day or two now.”
Andrea’s heart gave a queer jump. “I’ve — got some news for you, and I’ve been trying to think of the best way of telling you.”
Virginia raised herself on one elbow. “If it’s as difficult as all that, it can only be one thing — you and Martin.” Her voice was almost harsh.
“You’ve guessed correctly, and you sound quite annoyed. I was afraid of the way you would react. That’s why I found it so difficult to tell you.”
Virginia shrugged, and took up a handful of the fine, warm sand. “Why should I be annoyed? It’s your own affair!”
“But you’re still angry, aren’t you? And after all, Gini, we are supposed to be friends. You could at least be pleased that I have a chance of happiness.
“If you’re happy, I expect I am pleased.”
“You’re thinking of Godfrey, I suppose.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“When did it happen — between you and Martin, I mean?”
“After theatre, when we were called up in the night.”
“What — at that hour in the morning? What happened — did he ask you to marry him or did he just make love to you?”
Andrea sat upright. “Virginia — that’s a terribly cynical thing to say. What kind of an opinion have you of me — or of Martin ?”
Virginia’s lips tightened. “I suppose I shall end by apologizing to you, but I must be frank. I just can’t see Martin being serious — he’s always seemed so — unapproachable, and to tell the truth, I feel that you have rather played with fire. I feel you’ve treated Godfrey altogether too lightly and that Martin should never have trespassed.”