"JILL DOESN'T COUNT"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 2 December 1940, Page 10

"JILL DOESN'T COUNT"

COPYRIGHT. PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

By

Phyllis Hambledon.

(Author of “Youth Takes the Helm.”)

CHAPTER IV. iContinuedi. She could imagine Viva saccharinesweet with these women and caricaturing them cruelly afterwards. The great respectable class of England, she always said, was more than she could stand. But Jill found herself liking them better than she had expected, all except Mrs. Grahame whose beady eyes were still full of hostility. She breathed a sigh of relief, however, when they were gone, when she went to report progress to Miss Croft. “Well, I’ve given my successful impersonation of a young married lady, ’ she said. "Now let's enjoy ourselves! Come into the sitting room. You haven't called on me properly yourself, you know. We’ll have more tea and make pigs of ourselves over those marvellous sandwiches of yours.” “I always said the nicest part of a party was when it was over,” said Miss Croft. The Cats of Charnford, as she called them, had coldly ignored her since her outburst in defence of Oliver. But she was happy. She felt that in the young Verekers she had found new friends. She was one of their staunchest supporters in Charnford. It was queer, said the shopkeepers, to see Miss Croft who’d always been so respectable, sticking up doughtily for a man who had been in prison. When

she left today, however, Jill felt dispirited. She went into the kitchen, paid Nora, proceeded to the dispensary, put on her white apron, ready for the work of the evening. “Well, how did it go off?”, said Oliver, raising his head from the panel records ne was correcting. “Quite well,” said Jill. “I hoped you would come in for tea.” “I’d rather go over the top any' day,” said Oliver. “Well, I felt rather like that, too,” said Jill. Oliver cast a quick look at her, and put down his pen. He came and put his arms round her shoulders. “You’re tired,” he said. “No,” said Jill. “Not tired. I’ve a funny face, haven’t I, Oliver?” “Who’s been saying that?” said Oliver angrily. “Oh, nobody. I don’t like Mrs. Grahame though. Do you know when i was little, I used to pray -to be pretty like Viva until I began to realise that prayers aren’t always answered.” “You don’t need to be pretty,” said Oliver. “I’m sick of pretty people anyway. You’re Jill. I don’t believe there’s anybody quite like you. My dear, I guess that tea-party has done you in! You don’t often talk in this way. I wish I had come now and heard the cats miaow. It was selfish of me to funk it.” “It’s all right," said Jill.

He put his arms round her again, and kissed her cheek gently. Jill remained perfectly still. He didn’t know how difficult it was for her not to respond; not to throw her arms around him, tell him she adored him, tell him that if he loved her, not all the miaowing of all the cats of Charnford could worry her. But she mustn't do that. She had told him once that she loved him. She mustn’t repeat it. She must be the girl who was housekeeper, dispenser, companion, fellow-worker, a hundred times more than she was a wife.

“I’ll get on with the dispensing now,” she said. “That reminds me,” said Oliver. “Tell the patients to’ wait will you, if I'm late? There’s a call just come from Wynward’s Yard.” “That’s the very worst part of Charnford, isn’t it?” said Jill. “Yes,” said Oliver. “This woman has seven kids, and another expected, and the husband has been out of work for months.”

“As much chance of your getting paid, then, as of winning a ticket in the Irish Sweep,” said Jill. “Less,” said Oliver.

He had so many patients like that, reflected Jill as she went into the dispensary. She was beginning to learn the religion of medicine. A doctor was not a grocer. It was good to know that you could give of your best to the needy and down-and-out, good to know that Oliver would spend a whole night saving a life because, saving live was his business, and whether he were paid or not another matter. She would not' have him otherwise, but on the other hand, they had bills themselves to meet, and the grocer and butcher and fishmonger were not in business for the good of health, as the saying went, and there were lots of patients who could afford to pay, and didn’t. Those Regans, for instance, away on their tour of the world, still owing a matter of forty pounds.

Oliver went to see the sick child in Wynward’s Yard, and because the mother had no money for milk, ordered and paid for some at the dairy at the corner. ■ When he got back to his house, a big blue car was just drawing up at the kirb. Malcolm Trant stepped out of it. He was looking particularly fit and sunburnt. “Hullo, Vereker!” he said. “Jill anywhere about? I've called to see if she’s having one of her days off, by any chance. The river’s still pleasant. I thought I'd take her down to Henley.” “I wish you would,” said Oliver. “I can carry on quite easily this evening. It would do her good to get out of this place.” “Exactly what I thought," said Malcolm. “Thanks for sparing her. I'll go and find her.” He went into the waiting room. A woman was sitting there, while Jill made up a bottle of cough medicine. She took it and went away. “I want something strong, warranted to cure a broken heart." said Malcolm. “Anything of the kind available, Miss Ferrand?” “Why, Malcolm!" cried Jill. “I thought you were in Scotland!” “1 came back yesterday. I found myself thinking more about you than 1

wanted, if you like the truth. You’re coming down to Henley with me for dinner. Go and put on your hat and coat, like a good girl.” “Oh, Malcolm, I couldn’t!" said Jill. ‘Why not? I’ve asked your boss. He said: Yes, by all means! Seemed quite glad of the chance of getting rid of you.” He spoke jestingly. He was unprepared for the change in Jill’s face. It had been pale before. Now it was paler than ever. After a second’s hesitation, she held out her left hand. “Did he tell you about this?” she said. “Good Lord, Jill!” he ejaculated. “You’re married!” “Yes,” said Jill. “But who’s the man? I —l never knew—” “You never knew that anybody liked me enough to marry me?” said Jill.

“I didn’t, but there was no reason why somebody shouldn’t. I’m—l’m struck all of a heap. I don’t know what I’m saying! Who is it? Why does he let you work here, anyway?” “It’s quite a good place for me to work in,” said Jill. “I’m Mrs. Oliver Vereker.” “Mrs. Oliver —I say you're not joking, : are you?” "Why should I be joking?” said Jill. “Because ” Suddenly Malcolm seized her arm. “Jill,, I can’t help it —I’m going to say it!' It was Viva that Vereker was going about with! What have you done? Why have you married him? Oh, my dear girl, I’m a good friend of yours, if ever there was one. Here I come back, and he says: Take her out by all means, and I see you looking as if you were ready for a good long rest in a sanatorium! Jill, I tell you, in Scotland I’ve been thinking of nothing but you, and that dear little face of yours, looking forward to seeing it again. If he’s not good to you, if he doesn’t appreciate you properly, if he doesn’t fairly worship the ground you tread on ”

“But he does,” lied Jill. “Then all I can say is, he hides it extremely well,” flared Trant. “Malcolm,” said Jill. “Haven’t you heard of lovers’ quarrels?” “Lovers’ quarrels?” said Malcolm. “Yes. Supposing you had come in the middle of one of them, that would account for Oliver saying you could take me out, wouldn’t it? And for me looking as if I needed a rest cure. If I went, I’d just be prolonging the unpleasant business.” “You mean you’ve got to the stage of the quarrel, when the reconciliation is approaching?” said Malcolm. “Exactly,” said Jill. “Oh, well that’s a relief to me. I suppose the reconciliation will be worth the quarrel. You do love him, Jill?” “Yes, I can swear that,” said Jill. She couldn’t let Malcolm know how things were between Oliver and herself, she was thinking. Happily, he went away, perfectly satisfied with her story. But he was angry with himself. Silly to have thought so much of Jill, while the other fellow had just gone in and grabbed her. Oliver Vereker had seemingly had the sense to see that Jill was worth a dozen of the lovelys. Being married to her must be rather exciting, thought Malcolm. Oliver came back to find Jill still in the dispensary. “Aren’t you going out with Trant?” he asked.

“No,” said Jill. “But why not? An evening on the river would do you all the good in the world, my dear.” "We are registering for the benefit of Charnford the picture of a happy and newly married couple,” said Jill. “What’s that got to do with it?” “A happily married wife doesn’t go out with another man within a month of her marriage,” said Jill. “People would talk.”

“Oh, let them talk!” said Oliver. He entered the dispensary where she was dissolving quinine. “This coming-back business is too hard,” he said roughly. “You’re taking it too seriously. Personally, except for making a home for you, I don’t care a straw whether I come back or not! You should have gone with Trant. It would have been amusing, at any rate. You want to take your pleasures where you can find them, Jill. • There aren’t many here. It isn’t a square deal I’ve given you, letting you marry me, letting you work for me with so little in return.” “Noll, don’t you think you can ever forget Viva?” said Jill. “Don’t you think I wish to heaven 1 could?” said Oliver violently. The surgery bell rang. Jill went to answer it. When she returned Oliver had disappeared into his consulting, room, stood very still, staring into space.

Autumn came early that year, came in a deluge of wind and rain. The surgery bell began to ring more frequently. Judging by the number of people who sent for Oliver, you might have thought him prosperous. Only he and Jill knew how many of his calls were unlucrative, how few of the better-class patients he had managed to win back from Dr. Grahame, how long he was kept waiting for the bills which he sent out monthly. And in the meantime, there were the wholesale drug firms to pay, there were the wages of the charlady who came every morning. They lived on the cheapest of food. Jill only smoked because she knew that if she refrained Oliver too would give up his weekly ration, and that he needed whatever relaxation he could get.