all about it. Why doesn’t Terry go with you?’
Rimada applied mascara and leaned forward to survey her handiwork.
‘Adam wished that, but Terry is suddenly called away—an emergency case in theatre…’
‘Oh—I hadn’t heard.’
‘But you are off duty, so how could you? They will have told Joyce in ENT.’
Loveday reflected that she had left Joyce not ten minutes earlier and there had been no news of an emergency; indeed, there had been nothing in the Accident Room, and Nancy was very good at letting them know the moment anything likely came in, indeed, she often warned the theatre staff the moment she had news of an emergency from the ambulance crews. It sounded like an excuse on Terry’s part, but perhaps it was best not to pursue that train of thought. Instead, she asked: ‘How old is your guardian?’
‘Thirty-six—no, seven. Almost middle-aged.’
Not middle-aged, Loveday decided silently; middle-aged men didn’t kiss like that. ‘I didn’t know that he was a surgeon.’
Her friend swung round to stare at her. ‘You have met him? How is that? Do you not find him quite terrible?’
Loveday skated round the question. ‘He operated this afternoon. We bumped into each other when I was on the way back to theatre. He’s super at his job, whatever else he is.’
Rimada shrugged her shoulders. ‘Oh, yes; he is, how do you say? the tops. He is a Professor of Surgery, you know. He also likes pretty girls. You will take care, Loveday? He has charm…’
You can say that again, thought Loveday while she assured Rimada that she would indeed take care. ‘Though as I’m not likely to meet him again, it doesn’t matter, does it?’ She felt a momentary regret about that. ‘I’m going down to supper—come along to my room when you get back and tell me how you got on.’ She peered at her reflection over Rimada’s shoulder. ‘Gosh, I look a hag,’ she remarked, and following her train of thought: ‘I daresay your guardian won’t be as difficult as you imagine—he’s only human, after all.’
Her friend snorted. ‘Bah!’ she said through excellent teeth. The word carried a great deal of feeling.
Loveday had been in bed and asleep for quite some time when Rimada wakened her with an urgent shake. She was in tears, and Loveday, still in a half dreaming state, sat up slowly, forcing herself to wakefulness.
‘Rimmy,’ she uttered urgently, ‘whatever is the matter? You’re in floods!’
‘Adam—I hate him! He does not listen when I say that I will marry Terry; he laughs and says that I don’t know my own mind.’ A fresh flow of tears choked her and Loveday, ever helpful, offered a handkerchief.
‘He hasn’t cut you off with a shilling, or anything drastic?’ she wanted to know.
‘Of course not,’ sobbed Rimada. ‘It is my money, is it not? When I asked him for some of my allowance so that I could buy that hat—you remember?—he gave it to me at once.’
She gave Loveday a rather hurt look because she giggled. ‘Oh, it is funny to you, I daresay, but he thinks that he can bribe me, and I will not be bribed—I will have my own way.’
Rimada’s rather weak chin set in stubborn lines. ‘He is unkind, also he called you an interfering busybody and told me that I should run my own life. He said, too, that you are too clever by far and that bossy women are not his cup of tea.’
Loveday’s bosom heaved with the fury of her feelings. ‘He said that? I can well believe it,’ she said in an icy voice. ‘Anyone disputing his opinions or his plans would naturally prick his abominable ego.’ She drew a trembling breath. ‘You really want to marry Terry? OK, Rimmy, so you shall. I’ll help you all I can. We should be able to think of something between us.’ Her dark eyes glinted, she was now very much awake. ‘I’ll show him what a busybody I am!’ She smiled at the Dutch girl. ‘I’ve got days off at the end of the week—change yours and come home with me, that will give us two days’ peace and quiet in which to cook up something. Go to bed, Rimmy, and stop crying—you shall have your Terry. Good lord,’ she exclaimed, suddenly furious, ‘anyone would think it was the nineteenth century we’re living in; he’s nothing but a tyrant.’ She added softly: ‘It’ll be rather fun.’
She didn’t see Rimada until they shared a table with half a dozen other Sisters at dinner time the following day, and it was apparent that the Dutch girl had quite recovered her spirits. For a moment Loveday wondered uneasily if Terry Wilde really was the best husband for her friend—a dear girl, but easily swayed and singularly bad at managing her own affairs, monetary or otherwise. But Rimada caught her eye even as she was thinking it, and smiled so happily that Loveday dismissed the idea as nonsense, and plunged into the lively discussion going on around her; Nancy Dawson from the Accident Room was getting married in December; she had just informed the table at large that they would be spending their honeymoon on a cruise. ‘Madeira,’ she breathed ecstatically, ‘Lisbon—can you imagine? I can hardly wait!’
There was a general murmur of envy and interest and the inevitable topic of the right clothes was broached. It wasn’t until they had left the dining-room and were hurrying back to their various wards that Loveday was struck by an idea so exquisite that she stood still in the middle of the passage to savour it. Supposing she and Rimada should go on a cruise? Quite openly, of course, in fact, they would tell everyone, including the hateful guardian. Even though he considered her to be a bossy busybody, he could hardly object to the pair of them going on holiday; indeed, he should be glad because it would take Rimada away from the Royal City and Terry. She smiled slowly; only he would be with them, of course, and once in Madeira—and Madeira would suit admirably because it was more than two days’ cruising away, which gave them two days’ start…they could marry. There must surely be such things as special licences there; Terry would have to find out. And once they were married, her guardian could do very little to change things; he would have to give in, settle Rimada’s money on her and accept Terry Wilde into the family.
Loveday got into the lift, quite carried away with the cleverness of her reasoning. What was more, she decided as she pushed open the theatre doors, she would say very little to Rimada until they were on their way home; Rimmy, bless her, was no good at keeping a secret, but she would have her two days off in which to get used to the idea, and during that time she would have to be made to understand that discretion was all important—about Terry—she could tell as many people as she liked about the cruise. Loveday, greeting Staff with an absent-minded nod, made up her mind to go to a travel agency in the morning and collect all the brochures they had.
They drove down to Tenterden two evenings later, after their day’s work. They went in Loveday’s elderly Morris 1000, a car which, while hardly noted for its breathtaking speed and racy lines, maintained a steady forty miles an hour and seldom gave her any trouble. She would have liked something fast and eye-catching even though she was devoted to the Morris; it got her home with unfailing certainty and was, moreover, the result of two years’ hard saving on her own part. Rimada laughed at it, and Loveday, understanding to someone who had never known any other car but a large Mercedes or a Porsche, the Morris was something of a joke, didn’t mind in the least. Its steady speed gave her ample opportunity to talk, and that was what she wanted to do now.
Her plan was received rapturously. ‘You are a genius,’ declared her friend. ‘I have thought and thought and I have been in despair.’ And Loveday, used to Rimada’s dramatic turn of speech, said reassuringly:
‘Well,
