White Feathers (27 page)

He reached out for her but she stepped smartly out of range.

‘Keely, I really am very fond of you and we’ve had a lot of fun together. I’m sorry if you thought there was more to it than that.’

‘I suppose you’re going to tell me you don’t love your wife, that your marriage is one of convenience or some such rubbish?’ she demanded, hoping he would say yes.

‘Well, it is these days, more or less. We met when I was at medical school in London, and she became pregnant so we married and she came back to New Zealand with me. But, oh, I don’t know, it just hasn’t worked out, really.’ He sighed as if he quite regretted this but it couldn’t be helped, then dashed Keely’s hopes completely by adding, ‘I’ve no intention of leaving her though. We’ve three children and Evie thinks they need a father, even if it is me, and I’ve agreed to stay until they’re grown.’

Something rather unpleasant occurred to Keely. ‘Is this the first affair you’ve ever had?’

Again Ross went pink. ‘Ah, no, not exactly.’

Keely closed her eyes and swayed as a wave of nausea swept over her. ‘You don’t deserve to be loved. I hope she leaves you one day and takes your children away from you.’

‘I doubt that,’ Ross replied confidently. ‘For some reason she believes it’s absolutely essential to keep up appearances.’

‘And does your brother-in-law know about your, your
activities
?’

‘No, and I’d rather it stayed that way, if you don’t mind.’

‘God, you borrowed his motor car to take me out in!’

Ross shrugged. ‘It was worth it, though, wasn’t it?’

Wanting to hurt him as much as he had hurt her, Keely said vindictively, ‘What if I told him? What if I wrote to your wife and told her what you’ve been up to?’

He looked mildly disconcerted for a moment, and his eyes narrowed. ‘You wouldn’t, would you?’ Then he laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. ‘Actually, I rather suspect you just might. You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you? Well, I’ve news for you, girl. Life doesn’t work like that, and if you go spilling the beans to Evie or even Gerry you’ll only upset them, and probably a lot more people besides, and what will that achieve? Evie still won’t leave me. But by all means tell them if you really think you need to. I’m sure it will help
you
to feel better. But the world doesn’t turn around you, you know, Keely Murdoch, despite what you might think. Grow up before you cause someone some real harm.’

Keely was speechless — no one had ever said anything so nasty to her. She could easily have punched his handsome, aristocratic face, turned her back and walked away from him forever, but then he spoke again.

‘It’s funny,’ he added, ‘I saw that in you the moment we met almost, but it never really bothered me. It was actually charming, in a way. I still think you’re gorgeous and, really, you’re the most fun in bed I’ve had in a long time.’

To her shock and consternation, and regardless of his cruel words less than a minute before, Keely realised she felt flattered. She was contemplating how to respond when someone banged loudly on the door and rattled the handle aggressively.

‘Staff Nurse Murdoch, are you in there? It’s Matron Carmichael. Open the door.’

‘Oh Christ,’ Ross muttered.

‘Nurse Murdoch,’ came the voice again, shrilly insistent now. ‘Come out this instant!’

Keely opened the door.

‘What’s going on?’ Matron demanded, her bulk almost filling the doorway.

She appeared extremely perturbed. Behind her Keely could see a small crowd peering curiously in.

Keely stepped out but avoided everyone’s eyes.

‘Are you all right?’ Matron asked. When Keely nodded she added crisply, ‘Right then, I’ll see you in my office. And
you
can get back to work, Doctor McManus.’

Ross did the sensible thing and disappeared as quickly as possible, although he still managed to saunter. Keely was left standing alone, her face flaming.

Matron glared at her. ‘My office, Nurse Murdoch,
now
. And straighten your veil. You look a shambles.’

Keely strode off along the corridor, her head defiantly high now despite the stares that followed her. Outside the matron’s office she sat down to wait, not nervous, just angry.

She waited for nearly an hour, and while she did, she thought very hard.

Was
she that conceited and self-absorbed? She knew very well she was spoilt — her mother had told her as much many times — but it had always been a bit of a family joke, and she’d never really stopped to think about her own behaviour or what impact it might be having on other people. She had never wanted for suitors or friends, although apart from Erin she couldn’t name any women with whom she was on truly intimate terms, and she tried to be kind and generous towards others. She hadn’t meant what she’d said to Ross about telling his wife — she’d only wanted to hurt him — but he’d taken her seriously and come out with all those horrible things about her.

As the enormity of what had happened engulfed her, the shock of discovery and the harsh shattering of her dreams, she put her face in her hands and felt hot tears burning the backs of her eyes. Then she bit her lip hard and sat up again. She refused to cry. Crying was for silly, weak women, and she wasn’t weak. She
wouldn’t
be weak, despite Ross’s appalling duplicity. Damn his smooth ways and his lies and his unforgettable lovemaking. She was a Murdoch, and she would retain her pride and her dignity no matter what. Even if her heart did feel as though it was being ripped in two.

She stood as Matron Carmichael swept in.

‘Come in, please,’ she said stonily as she opened the door to her office.

Keely sat on the chair Matron indicated in front of her huge desk, feet together, hands clasped loosely in her lap and her head up. On the desk were tidy stacks of papers, charts and forms.

Matron sat down herself, her significant bulk forcing a protesting squeak from her chair, and cleared her throat. Without preamble she said firmly, ‘I understand you’ve been having a liaison of a personal nature with Doctor McManus. Is this true?’

Keely replied without hesitation, ‘Yes, it is.’ There was no pointing lying at this stage.

Matron frowned, as if she had not expected so frank an admission. ‘Has this liaison reached a, well, let’s say a physical level?’

‘Yes.’

There was a short, very disapproving silence, then, ‘You understand of course that such behaviour grossly contravenes both the regulations and the spirit in which you undertook to serve as a member of the NZANS?’

‘I understand that
some
of my behaviour
could
be construed in such a manner, and if it has then I regret that. It’s unfortunate.’

Stunned at Keely’s arrogance, Matron glared. She had just spent the last hour quizzing various members of her staff, plus
an orderly or two, about what the fracas in the corridor had been about. One sister, who seemed to have taken a shine to Staff Nurse Murdoch and was therefore reluctant to admit to any knowledge of the girl’s alleged shenanigans, had finally talked, as had several of her colleagues, delighted to divulge more than Matron needed or wanted to know.

Apparently the affair was fairly common knowledge — indeed, Keely Murdoch had evidently been making a complete tramp of herself with that rather flashy Ross McManus — and Matron was annoyed with herself for not having been aware of the situation before now. She would certainly have put a stop to the business well before it reached such a public dénouement.

She said briskly, ‘Yes, I’m sure you do regret it. And I expect there will be even more regrets after the Matron-in-Chief has been informed.’

Keely shrugged. She nibbled on a fingernail, then made what she thought was a mature and honourable offer. ‘I will of course be requesting a transfer to another hospital.’

‘A
transfer
! Staff Nurse Murdoch, it’s highly likely you’ll be sent home and discharged from the NZANS after this.’

Keely said nothing. Being sent home was not without its attractions. She had been very tired for a long time. Her family would understand, and they would forgive her because they always had. And Ross would probably be sent home too — he was, after all, equally to blame — and Napier wasn’t that far from Auckland. Once he had thought things through, and spent a few months without her, he would realise how much he missed her and how inevitable it was that they should be together.

‘Have you nothing to say?’ asked Matron.

‘Not really, except that I really am sorry,’ replied Keely.

And she was, for the way Ross had lied to her, for this rather major hiccup in the blissful future she had envisioned and for
the embarrassing manner in which their relationship had become public. But it would all be fine in the end because, in a way, Ross had been right — things almost always did work out for her.

Matron shook her head incredulously: this young woman seemed to have no idea of the impact this reckless and ill-considered affair would have on her future, both personally and professionally.

‘I’m unlikely to have a decision from the Matron-in-Chief for a day or two. Until then, you’re suspended from duties. I suggest you remain in your room. I don’t want the staff distracted from their work. That will be all.’

Keely stepped down from the train and looked around for her luggage. Although the sun was bright and unobscured by clouds, the wind whipping off the Bristol Channel seemed to bite right into her flesh and she was grateful for her gloves and hat. This was her first trip to Avonmouth, and if the bleak grubbiness of the train station was anything to go by, she hoped it would be her last.

According to Matron Carmichael, the New Zealand hospital ship
Marama
was due in port this afternoon. Keely was to board later this evening and hand the matron a sealed letter. Keely could imagine more or less what it said. She was to work her passage home: the
Marama
, with a full complement of over six hundred patients, was on the eve of her voyage back to New Zealand, and another pair of trained hands would always be appreciated, even if they were attached to a woman of dubious morals.

Keely watched as a pair of porters began to unload boxes and cases from the guard’s van, and sat down on a bench to wait for her luggage to appear. She would have to find somewhere to go until this evening, but she was sure there would be plenty of tea shops in the area. She would also buy herself a magazine or a newspaper, and perhaps a packet of cigarettes — given all that had happened
it might be a good time to start smoking.

Everyone, every where, seemed to be in a hurry these days. A trio of soldiers surveyed her appreciatively, but she returned their gazes with an icy stare. Why couldn’t they keep their eyes to themselves? Did she have a sign around her neck or something? It had been like this during the trip from Southampton to Avonmouth, the other travellers in her compartment staring at her continually, as if her sins were advertised for all to see: censorious old ladies, accusing children, opportunistic men in uniform, and knowing, disapproving women who were obviously the wives of men away on service. Women like Evelyn McManus. She realised of course that no one had been looking at her — she was in England after all and the British simply did not stare — but her fatigue and her tattered nerves were making her imagine things.

It had been the same when she had been standing outside the gates of Balmer Lawn yesterday, waiting for the taxi to collect her and take her to the station. Erin, loyal as always, had come out to stand with her, but even so she had had the uncomfortable feeling that hundreds of pairs of judging eyes were peering down at her. She had turned quickly now and again, only to see the four imposing storeys of Balmer Lawn looking impassively back: there was no one there.

The taxi had arrived, she and Erin had hugged, then she had gone, leaving behind her friends, her nursing career and Ross McManus — who had not lost his job, had not even received a reprimand for his part in their affair, as far as Keely was aware. Her mouth tightened again at the unfairness, and she looked down at the ground as a rush of blood flooded her face, then drained away again, leaving her normally glowing skin sallow and tired-looking.

It was so unfair that she should be the one to be publicly pilloried and made an example of. And for what? She had fallen in love — was that such a crime? He, not she, had lied and cheated and
deceived. If he had been any sort of gentleman he would have volunteered his culpability, perhaps even insisted that Keely stay while he went home.

She must have dozed off, for suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder and a voice saying, ‘Hey, lady. Excuse me, lady. Wake up.’

‘What?’ Keely murmured. How could she have fallen asleep on such a noisy, busy railway platform?

‘Is this your luggage?’

It was one of the porters, a short elderly man, so pale and frail-looking Keely wondered how on earth he managed to heft baggage around.

‘Sorry?’

‘Is this your luggage?’ the man repeated. He eyed her kindly and his voice softened. ‘Been working hard have you, love? Never mind. It’s a rum do all right, this war. Someone meeting you, are they? No? Get yourself a cup of tea then, you should. Perk you up no end, it will.’ He stood there nodding to himself, as if tea was a panacea for everything.

He held out his hand and, with a surprisingly strong grip, helped Keely to her feet. ‘There’s a good tea shop just down the street. Don’t drink the tea here, it’s a disgrace and the scones aren’t much better.’

He delivered her suitcase then tipped his cap and walked off, limping slightly. Keely suspected that if there hadn’t been a war on, the little man would have retired years ago.

‘Thank you!’ she called after him, and he waved without turning.

She picked up her case and began to lug it towards the station gates. Only fifty yards or so down the street, as promised, was a tea shop. Sliding the case under a table near the window, she sat down, relishing the feeling of being out of the wind. She filled the next six hours by having five cups of tea, smoking, making three trips to the toilet and eating a rather sad sandwich and two pikelets. She
also read two newspapers and a magazine, and nodded off again several times, to the thinly disguised disapproval of the waitress. At seven in the evening she rose and went outside to hail a taxi to take her down to the docks.