Nurse with a Dream by Norrey Ford Page B

right. Clever girl.”
    “You saved my life. I’m sorry I was cross just now. I was all muddled. I ought to thank you.”
    “And your lucky stars. Don’t do such a dam silly trick again, that’s all I ask.”
    She choked with rage. He didn’t believe her! She knew she was speaking the truth—knew it beyond all shadow of doubt. Whatever and wherever that horrible Black Crag might be, she had not climbed it—or left a note telling anybody she intended to do so. It was—well, against Nature, that’s all.
    “But I didn’t! Don’t you understand, I—”
    He stood up and suddenly looked as if he’d had enough of this conversation. “Yes, I understand. You’re an experienced climber, aren’t you? Puffed up just a little with your own skill, wanting to score off someone who was trying to help you—inclined to despise a Yorkshire cliff because you’ve done easy bits of the Alps with an elderly man. Our crags are tough nuts to crack, Nurse—like Yorkshire heads.”
    Unable to resist, she flashed, “Mine is a Yorkshire head, too.”
    He stared down at her, with such an odd expression that she did not know whether he was pleased or angry.
    “You don’t believe me!” She was almost crying with exasperation.
    He shrugged. “You admit you don’t remember much. I go by evidence.”
    “Take your handkerchief and get out of here before I throw something. Of all the tiresome, exasperating people—”
    He took the handkerchief from her fingers and pushed it into his pocket. “Do you know, Nurse Clarke, that is precisely the effect you have on me?”
    The girl’s hand hovered threateningly over her water-jug. “One—two,” she counted, between her teeth.
    He laughed softly and moved so quickly that the door was closing after him almost before she realised he had left the bedside.
    Bridget popped up from under her blankets. She was crimson and swore she had been holding her breath for twenty minutes. “Holy Mother! You’ll be the death of me. I waited for the lightning to strike you.”
    “This water-jug would have struck him in another two seconds. He as good as called me a liar!”
    “How do you know you’re not?”
    “I don’t know how I know. But I know.”
    Liz came back with a tea-tray. “It’s a bit early but we’re rushed to death on the ward. Sister is in a tizzy and poor old Mrs. Ramsbottom is going at last It’s a blessed release, but her relations have forgotten that and are sitting round the bed either crying or peeking through the screens to see what we’re up to. What did his lordship want? I nearly passed out when he spoke to me.”
    Bridget examined her tray critically. “No cake?”
    Liz produced a slice of bright yellow cake from her pocket. “And for heaven’s sake don’t leave any crumbs. Talk fast, girls. Come on, give. ”
    “You may well ask,” said Bridget, with her mouth full. She was eating the cake first to make sure of it. “I practically passed out. She sat up as cool as a young inexperienced cucumber and argued with him.”
    “Why not?” Jacqueline was still indignant. “He practically told me he didn’t believe me.”
    “He was sweet to her, Hannon, and lent her a hankie to cry in.”
    Both nurses were reduced to silence. Jacqueline looked from one to the other. “You look like goldfish, staring at me from a glass bowl. Listen, I don’t mind crawling or eating the dust where Sister or Matron or even a staff nurse is concerned. But I will not have strange men coming in here asking impertinent questions and disbelieving my answers. As a junior nurse, I’m less than the dust, but as me I won’t be anybody’s doormat.”
    “You’re telling us,” Bridget said feelingly. “Hannon, we can look our last on this child. She threatened to throw the water-jug at him.”
    Liz felt for Jacqueline’s pulse. “I’d better call Sister. You’re stark raving mad.”
    “Just hopping mad,” Jacqueline admitted. “Why the fuss?”
    “Listen,” said Liz very