"JILL DOESN'T COUNT"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 30 November 1940, Page 10

"JILL DOESN'T COUNT"

COPYRIGHT. PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

By

Phyllis Hambledon.

(Author of “Youth Takes the Helm.”)

CHAPTER IV. (Continued*. Jill was looking queer and upset somehow. She hesitated. “What’s the matter,” said Viva impatiently. “Is he out?” “No,” said Jill. She opened the door more widely. “I wrote to you today, Viva. Did you get my letter?” “I didn’t,” said Viva. She walked into the house. *'“l came to see Oliver, I tell you!” “There’s something I ought to tell you first,” said Jill. “Leave it until afterwards,” said Viva carelessly. “I want to see Oliver. Ah, there he is.” Oliver came across the hall. He stepped short at the sight of her. “Hullo, Oliver!” said Viva. “I might be a visitant from another world instead of quite a profitable patieftt. I’ve got a spot under my chin, and I want you to prescribe for it, before I acquire a crop of them. Take me into your consulting room, and behave like a doctor, will you?” She took his arm, and led him into the consulting room. The door closed behind them.

Jill stayed alone. On her finger was a very new wedding ring. She and Oliver had been married yesterday. That had been what she had wanted to tell Viva. But it’s better he should tell her himself, she thought. How lovely she looked. How can he help loving her? She’s —she’s an enchantment to his eyes. “La Belle Dame sans merci has him in thrall.”

She went into the dining room, and began clearing away the remains of luncheon. It was not so very different being married to Oliver to being his dispenser, except that now she need not go away at night, and- her shoes stood beside his shoes under the dressing table, and her dressing gown hung by his behind the door, and there were two toothbrushes in the jar in the bathroom. Not so very different and yet again how terribly, wonderfully different.

The door was flung open. Viva stood there. She no longer looked pretty. Her face was blotchy with rage. Never for the sake of art, would she have featured so unbecomingly and so convincingly. “You cad, Jill!” she said. “I beg your pardon,” said Jill. “Oh, you needn’t try that new mar-ried-woman dignity on me!” said Viva. She was so angry she could hardly choose her words. “That’s what you meant to do all the time, I suppose! It takes gentle, demure, little minxes like you to have the nerve. Pretending to be so sweet and unselfish, and then romping in, and marrying him. Watching for your chance, and taking it. You didn’t write me that letter you were talking about, until you were married, did you? You wanted to be quite sure about it. • Well, you've got what you worked for now, but if you think being married to a man who is in love with somebody else, is fun, you may have an unpleasant shock before you are many years older. And if there’s anything I can do to pay you outfit will be done, Jill Vereker!” And with a bitter emphasis on the surname, she left the room as violently as she had entered it. Jill heard the sound of her car being driven away. She stood very still. “Well, that’s that,” said Oliver, behind her.

.He had entered the room unheard. He put his arm round Jill’s shoulder and tried to smile at her. She smiled back at him and squeezed his hand. He returned the pressure. That’s that, he had said. That’s what? Jill might have asked him. She knew that Viva’s threat was no empty one. Although the day was warm, she shivered. CHAPTER V. Little-Miss Croft in her comic tussore coat and skirt trotted briskly along Charnford High Street, and knocked at the door of the doctor’s house. Jill answered it. Her face broke into smiles. “Come in!” she said. “Good morning,” said Miss Croft. She entered. “So the cats are coming today,” she said. “If you mean that I’m having my first At Home day, you’re right, in one!” said Jill. “And if I mean that you’re scared stiff,' I’m right in two!” said Miss Croft shrewdly. Jill nodded.

“At Home days aren’t much in my line,” she said. “How does one play the married woman?” “You’ll do fine!” said Miss Croft. “You can’t think how glad I was, when I heard my nice doctor had married you. Doctors want somebody to be kind to them, more than ordinary people. Theyr’e so busy being kind themselves, that folk forget about them. And I’ve got an idea that you love him. I’m an old maid,” said Miss Croft “but old maids see more of the ways of men and women than you think. I’m glad you're Mrs. Oliver Vereker, my dear!” "You’re sweet," said Jill. “Sweet.”

“But I'm practical as well," said Miss Croft suddenly becoming unsentimental. “The cats, as I said, will all be here. Curiosity killed the cat, but they've forgotten that. Well, you’ve got to be a success, and nobody ever was a social success when they were wonderipg if the kettle had gone off the boil, or the sandwiches were turning up at the corners. You're going to be the ‘lydy’ in the kitchen. .That pretty little good-for-nothing Nora Childs can do the waiting all right, but I’ll be the brains behind. What I don't know about making sandwiches wouldn’t cover a sixpence. And I’ll lend you my best crocheted teacloth.”

“Miss Croft, I couldn’t possibly let you ” began Jill. "That’s a nice way for a child to speak to a woman of my age!” said Miss Croft.

“I’ll be more grateful than I can say, ’ said Jill, suddenly giving in. She had indeed been dreading the ordeal of the afternoon, when she would take her place among the wives of the doctors and lawyers and other professional folk of Charnford. She had not quite seen what marriage with

Oliver would mean. She had been rushed off her feet and she had thought only of him and of herself. Then she realised that she and he could not live alone to each other, that they had got to take their place in the world, that she was indeed Mrs. Oliver Vereker. And this afternoon as Miss Croft put it, the Cats were coming. Social contacts were bound to follow. This was the second stage of Oliver’s come-back. They had been married a month now. Things had been difficult enough. But people like a married doctor, and patients were returning. Somehow there was a reassuring trustworthy look about Jill tripping down the High Street, basket on arm, to do her shopping, or answering the surgery door to them in her white overall, that made them realise that here messages would be attended to promptly, medicine not forgotten, bills settled. Outwardly, then, all was well. The 'shadow of the prison was fading from the house in the High Street. Inwardly there were moments when Jill’s | heart failed her. I didn’t want to marry Oliver this way, she thought. It was so desperate to be married to him. knowing that, in spite of his efforts, his heart was still in another woman’s keeping. And because she loved him, because for so long, she had been so intensely aware of him, she knew every

time Oliver thought -of ViVa, every time he tried to forget her, every time he attempted with redoubled energy to be kind and even tender to his wife. But she could not think of all this today: the At Home loomed ahead of her. Miss Croft had been right in saying that all the ladies in Charnford would attend. Oliver’s marriage had indeed provided a new sensation. So the fresh paint and the window-boxes had indeed been prelude to a wedding! Mrs. Jones had remarked. When it had leaked out, that the new Mrs. Vereker was the girl who had sat in the back of the car at the time of the accident, sister to the lovely film star, Viva Ferrand, the sensation had been redoubled. They had imagined Oliver in love with Viva. Presumably they had been wrong. “Well, all I can say is,” said Mrs. Grahame, as the four ladies walked along the High Street together, “I only hope that he hasn’t the effrontery to appear.”

“I think it might be rather amusing,” said Mrs. Beaton. “I’d like to be able to say I'd shaken hands with somebody who’d been in prison.” “He used to be nice once,” said Mrs. Jones a little wistfully. Mrs. Grahame pinched her lips and said nothing. Only curiosity brought her today. They had been so certain that Oliver was ruined. During his imprisonment, her husband had acquired the cream of his practice. Even when Oliver had returned, Dr. Grahame had still been confident that he could not make good, that before very long he would fade away again. But now the trend of public opinion seemed to be turned in his favour. The trim appearance of his house had impressed everybody. Most people drove a car these days. And they all knew how easy an accident was. It was sporting of Oliver they said, not to go under. After all, he had been a good doctor, and a very decent fellow. And now that he was married, well, the new wife should be given a chance, shouldn’t she. Which explains why callers were ringing the bell on this particular early September afternoon. Jill showed no sign of her inner trepidation when she received them. She was wearing, as usual, one of Viva’s handed-down frocks. It was a little big for her, too sophisticated. Suddenly Mrs. Jones who was kind a heart, saw her as a little girl, playing at parties. She leant forward with a smile. ‘I hope you’re going to like Charnford”, she said. “I hope so too,” said Jill. “It will be a great change for you after a film studio,” said Mrs. Jones. “You did quite a lot of work on the pictures, didn’t you? I think I saw you in ‘Making Whoopee.’ ” “So did I,” said Mrs. Grahame cruelly. “I remember saying that you had quite the funniest face I’d ever seen.” “My dear!” began Mrs. Beaton,' embarrassed. “Of course, you were made up like that for the picture, weren’t you?”

“I didn't use a lot of make-up," said Jill. “My face has always been my fortune.”

“And now it has brought you a husband,” tittered Mrs. Grahame. “I don’t think it is altogether Mrs. Verekers’ face brought her a husband.” said Mrs. Jones quietly. “I think Dr. Vereker is very lucky." “I am lucky, too,” said Jill.

Nora Childs, the greengrocer’s daughter, brought in tea. and she was busy dispensing it. The other ladies began talking rather' quickly. Sylvia Grahame had gone too far, they decided. Dr. Grahame, thought Mrs. Jones, has always been out for the main chance. I’ll have Dr. Vereker if I’m ill again, she told herself. He was kind at any rate. And I like the girl, whether she was in a film studio or not. “You have a very lovely sister, Mrs. Vereker,” she said. “Yes,” said Jill. “Viva is beautiful.” “She’s in the new picture they're making at British Photo studios just now isn't she?” said Mrs. Beaton, proud of her knowledge of professional terms. “If she comes to stay with you. perhaps you will bring her to see us.” “I don't think she will be coming for a long time," said Jill. "Will you have some chocolate cake? ’

(To be Continued)