Nurse Templar by Anne Weale

Author:Anne Weale [Weale, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: cookie429, Extratorrents, Kat
ISBN: 9780373800391
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1980-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Very touching, Linden thought coldly. Let’s hope Randal is impressed.

As they left the room, she was shocked by the strength of her hostile feelings toward the other girl.

When, later that day, Linden was called to attend Mrs. Howlett, she knew she would have to face Peter again.

Iris Howlett was something of a problem case. She was only nineteen and had made it very clear that she resented the coming baby, and the consequent restriction of her social life. She had refused to attend either the talks or the relaxation classes at the clinic, and Linden suspected that she had not taken the extra milk and vitamins to which she was entitled. When Linden had visited her—and it had usually involved calling several times to catch her at home—she had been either sullen or bored, resisting all attempts to rouse her interest.

The door was opened by a big curly-haired man in mechanic’s overalls. He looked harassed and nervous and was clearly immensely relieved by Linden’s arrival.

“She’s upstairs, nurse. I wanted to call you sooner, but she wouldn’t let me,” he said anxiously.

The house was in its usual state of untidiness and neglect, and Linden wondered if her patient had bothered to make any of the necessary preparations. If not—and labor was already well advanced—it was going to be a trying evening.

She found Iris crouched on the bed with wide, terrified eyes and trembling lips. When she saw Linden the girl attempted to assume her usual sulky detachment but her fear was too urgent to be masked.

“Shall I call the doctor, nurse?” her husband asked through the half-closed door.

Iris’s hand fastened convulsively on Linden’s arm. “Don’t let him in,” she whispered hoarsely. “Swear you won’t let him in. I don’t want him to see me.”

Linden disengaged her arm and went to the door. “Yes, I think you had better phone him, Mr. Howlett,” she said quietly. “Put a kettle on before you go, will you?”

By the time Peter arrived, Linden had put the bedroom in order and made up the baby’s cot. Iris had directed her to open a suitcase concealed in the tiny box room, and Linden had been surprised to find a complete layette of woolly garments, which were now airing by the fire.

Presently, coming downstairs for a jug, Linden found Tom Howlett fingering a tiny vest with a puzzled expression.

“I didn’t know she had all this stuff,” he said, half to himself. Then, looking up, “She’ll be all right, nurse, won’t she?”

Linden reassured him, and thought of several small tasks to keep him occupied. Iris Howlett’s strange behavior was becoming even more of a puzzle.

The child was born at midnight, already, the image of its father with strongly marked eyebrows and a fine crop of dark curls plastered to its head. Linden wrapped him in a soft towel and laid him gently by his mother. For an instant an expression of intense delight and pride illuminated the girl’s wan face, but almost immediately she turned her head away and looked stonily at the wall.

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