‘Yes. I know all that, of course. Which is why it’s so bad of me.’
‘To want it? Of course not. It’s entirely natural. You’re too hard on yourself, Friend Tom.’ She leaned forward and kissed him: just on the cheek. ‘Well, if it’s any comfort, I am hugely proud to know you and of what you’ve done. I really am. It’s taken a long time, and a lot of work. It’s a bit like modelling, in a way. It looks so easy, just standing in front of a pillar or something, wearing a nice dress. Nobody knows about the boredom of a lot of it, doing the same thing over and over and over again, or of smiling until your face twitches, or longing to pee and not being allowed to move for hours. That’s very like an election, I should have thought.’
‘A bit,’ said Tom, smiling at the absurdity of the comparison.
‘Anyway, I mustn’t keep you. I can see you’re feeling remorseful. With absolutely no reason, I’d say. But please come again. I’d love to see you any time. Come and let me give you a hug . . .’
She stood up, held out her hand to pull him up.
‘Dear Tom. I hate to see you so unhappy. Ooh – gosh, nearly fell over.’ And she collapsed back onto the sofa, laughing.
That did it. She knew it would.
His arms were round her, his mouth on hers; she remembered thinking that if the sex was anything like the kissing, it would be astonishing.
It was absolutely astonishing. She could never remember feeling such excitement, such aching desire, such desperation to be touched, stroked, explored, entered. She was taken through new boundaries that night, scaled new heights, rose and fell from those heights in a glorious cycle, reaching, reaching for the pinnacle, and when she was finally there, triumphant, shouting with the pleasure of it. She was slowly, slowly sinking into peace when she smiled at Tom, and said, ‘What a good friend you are, dear Tom.’
And Tom, stricken, terrified at what he had done, said, ‘Diana, I must go. I really must.’
It was hardly a romantic finale but she didn’t mind. She had finally accomplished her mission, that of seducing Tom Knelston, and it had been glorious, and gloriously requited, she knew. He would be back. She was sure he would be back.
And Tom, while vowing as he sat in the cab that he would never go back, knew it was more than probable; and even if he didn’t, a boundary had been crossed, and he had stepped into another country – a dangerous country from which there could be no return, no matter how much he wished it and however hard he struggled to find a way.
Chapter 40
1955
‘Jillie? It’s Josh.’
Jillie promptly felt irritated. Josh was most unlikely to be inviting her out in the accepted sense, could only have two other reasons for ringing her. One, an obligatory attempt to cheer her up; two, a desire to pick her brains over some article he was writing. She wasn’t sure which of the two options was less attractive and decided it was the cheering-up one.
It turned out to be a curious combination of both.
‘Hello, Josh,’ she said cautiously. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I wondered if you’d like an evening out. Next week.’
‘Josh, darling,’ said Jillie, ‘it’s very sweet of you but the answer is absolutely not, thank you all the same. I much prefer my own company just at the moment.’
‘No, no,’ said Josh. ‘I have no intention of trying to cheer you up or anything ghastly. No, friend of mine from Oxford, haven’t seen him for years, name of Julius Noble –’
‘What a wonderful name.’
‘I suppose it is. Anyway, I bumped into him the other day, as you do, and I want to ask you a favour. On Julius’s behalf.’
‘I hope it’s not too onerous. I’m so tired I can’t concentrate on anything. I’m doing a locum at St Mary’s, Paddington while I try and find a job, never worked so hard in my life. Tell me what it is before I say I will.’
‘I don’t think it will be onerous. It might take an hour or so.’
‘An hour will be all right. Not so sure about the “so”. Anyway, what is it?’
‘Julius has a fiancée. Nice girl. She was with him. She’s a writer. And she wants to talk to you about being a surgeon.’
‘A writer! Goodness, how grand. I feel quite nervous already.’
‘Don’t be silly, half the famous writers in England have been to your house. It’s she who should be nervous. Actually, her books are quite silly. Love stories, you know.’
‘Is she famous? What’s her name?’
‘Eleanor, but everyone calls her Nell. Eleanor Henderson. She’s not famous, she’s only had a couple of books published. She wants to know how scary your first operation is, what an operating theatre looks like, who’s in charge. Oh, and what it’s like being a woman surgeon – she’s very interested in that. I’d be awfully grateful.’
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I can’t do it next week, because I’m doing nights, but the following week I can. Why don’t you all come here? Mummy won’t mind and actually, I think they’re away then.’
‘Well, that’s very kind,’ said Josh. ‘Give me a date and I know they’ll fit in with you.’
She had put the phone down when she realised she hadn’t asked what Julius did. Or what he was like. Why had she agreed to this? When she really didn’t have time and she hated meeting new people? Oh, well: too late now. It was only one evening, after all.
Loud screams filled the corridors; Ned, who had been on his way home, dropped his briefcase and ran towards the children’s ward. He found a complete lack of concern among the nursing staff: two probationers were giggling, Staff Nurse Lambert was writing a report.
He glared at her. ‘What on earth is going on in here?’
‘No need for alarm, Mr Welles. Just Joanna Brigstock, making a fuss.’
‘She must be screaming about something. She’s had a tonsillectomy, it leaves them in a lot of pain the first few days.’
‘She’d had a bad dream. That’s all. Nurse Wallace is with her now, trying to settle her. She’ll have all the other children awake if we’re not careful.’
‘I’ll go and see her.’
‘Mr Welles, she’s far better left with Nurse—’
Ned walked through the ward, the children asleep for the most part. Joanna Brigstock was weeping silently now, tears rolling down her flushed little face. A nurse stood looking down at her rather helplessly. Ned smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry, nurse, I’ll take over.’
‘But Staff told me to settle her. I don’t think she’d like you doing it.’
‘You can stop worrying about her too,’ said Ned. ‘I’ll take the blame for anything either she or Sister don’t like. I’m quite brave.’ He grinned at her. ‘Off you go. Now,’ he said, sitting down on the bed, smiling at the small Joanna. ‘Crying’s not allowed in my ward. What’s the matter? Can I help?’
She shook her head and turned away from him, stifling the sobs.
‘Joanna,’ said Ned, ‘it’s bad for your poor throat to cry. It needs you to be asleep, resting it.’
Silence.
‘Is it very sore?’
She nodded, still not looking at him.