"JILL DOESN'T COUNT"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 10 December 1940, Page 10

"JILL DOESN'T COUNT"

COPYRIGHT. PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

By

Phyllis Hambledon.

(Author of “Youth Takes the Helm.”)

CHAPTER VII. t Continued/.

It was Dr. Anderson, a doctor from the other side of Charnford. He was looking after Oliver. He was the right kind of medical man, just as Dr. Frith was the wrong one. His face was serious as he took Oliver’s pulse. “He's giving his heart no chance, getting excited like this,” he said. “If we could keep him quiet, he might do He’s very ill, Mrs. Vereker. I can’t hide it from your. He spoke to Oliver trying to reach him through the maze and haze of delirium. “Try to sleep, old chap, try to sleep.” “Viva,” muttered Oliver. “Viva.” “Doctor,” said Jill. “I know who this Viva is. If I managed to get her, it might make a difference? ’ “It might make all the difference in the world,” said the doctor. “Or it might not.” • • “Then you think I ought to try?” said Jill.

Her face was very white and strained; the last few days had worn her to a thread. She was plainer now, than she ever had been. She’s a brick, thought Dr. Anderson, out it’s queer a goodlooking chap like Vereker marrying her. I guess this Viva is a flaming beauty. He did not like the cinema, or he might have recognised the name. "I think if you were willing, 'you might try,” he said.. “Very well,” said Jill. So even here, where Oliver was sick unto death, Viva had him. Even now on the border of the End of All Things she had power to reach him. This is more than a woman should have to bear, thought Jill. She went to the phone. With a steady voice she gave the number of Lilac Cottage. It was later the same morning, Dr. Frith had done as short a round as was reasonably' possible. No use coddling the-people, you know! Besides, he was paid ten guineas a week, however little a week the work was. He was sniffing eagerly in the direction of luncheon. Mrs. Vereker didn’t seem to care a hoot what he had to eat. He would have, starved, if he had had to depend on her. But that Croft woman cooked like a dream.

He was just -crossing the hall when a pale lemon-coloured car drew up at the door of it. Dr. Frith blinked, looked again. In it was a girl, the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Held up by by the traffic, no doubt. That sort didn't grow in Charnford. No, by jove, she was stopping altogether; she was getting out! Dr. Frith was down the steps, as if shot from an arrow. “Good morning,” he gulped, “good morning.’ Viva Ferrand let her eyes rest on the apparition which had so suddenly appeared. She didn’t like pimply young men, but in the role of budding film star, she smiled at him graciously. “I suppose Mrs. Vereker is in?” she said. “Oh, rather —rather,” said Dr. Frith. “Please do come in. I suppose—er—you know her husband is laid up?” “That’s why I'm here,” said Viva quietly. “I’m Viva Ferrand.” The effect on Dr. Frith was gratifying. - | “Great Scot!” he gulped. “Great Scot! Fool I was not to recognise you. I say, I never miss a picture you’re in, if I can help it! Off-White, you know —I saw it four times. But look here, come in! come in! Don’t stand out in the cold. I’ll tell her you’re here. I say, fancy you being the Viva that Vereker keeps asking for. I never tumbled to it—not for a minute! Don't wonder he did call for you. His wife not exactly easy to look at, is she? And she doesn’t half keep me in order, believe me! And ”

“Ypu’re talking about my sister,” said Viva quietly. “Do you mind fetching her, please!” Dr. Frith turned a sickly green and tried to say something, and failed. Gosh, he thought, that's done it! The first time I’ve had a chance with getting oil with a film star, and I’d got to step into it with both feet! Why can’t I learn to keep my mouth shut? Anyway I guess there’s a lot more in this than meets the eye. If he’s married to one sister, why’s he talking all the time of the other? Delirium’s a funny thing It lets out some secrets.

“Please come upstairs, Viva,” said Jill, from the landing. It was a little dark on the landing, but Jill’s face was clear to see. She had an ethereal and unearthly look. She’s stealing the picture from me, was Viva’s instant professional thought, as she ran upstairs. Jill drew her into another room, while she explained things whitely and clearly. Oliver was desperately ill. His crisis was at hand. It was essential that 1»3 should rest. If he didn’t Her voice stopped suddenly. Even Viva, in spite of herself, was impressed. “What am I to do?” she said. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” “Say as little as possible,” said Jill. "Just let him know that you’re there." ‘I hate sickrooms," said Viva pettishly. They had seemed rather dramatic and exciting, but now with death looming in the background, she was frightened. “Come!” said Jill, taking no notice of that remark. In Oliver's room an enormous lire was burning, but the windows were wide open. The curtains blew, in the wind. Oliver's face looked unusual and emaciated. There were deep hollows under his cheekbone’s, and his eyes were cavernous. Miss Croft rose from her place beside him, shooting a look, had Viva known it, of violent disapproval at the newcomer. And the old monotonous cry went on: "Viva, Viva!” “I’m here, my dear," said Viva, natural at last, and she took his hand. They all waited, breathless. Miss Croft at a corner of the room, picture of indomitable spinsterhood, Jill at the' foot of the bed.

Oliver’s voice ceased. There was no answering response, but it seemed to Jill, that his eyes focussed themselves, as if in his delirium, he at last saw Viva, that she stood out clearly to him. She caught her breath. What would happen now? Would Viva accomplish what she had not accomplished. Still Oliver said nothing, but he smiled a little. He turned his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes. That evening his temperature dropped. The crisis was safely past Three days later the lemon-coloured car arrived at the doctor’s house in Charnford. Viva stepped out of it, radiant as ever. The people in the shop opposite came to the door, passers-by did not try to find an excuse for stopping. She herself had a sheaf of roses, incidentally exactly the same colour as her hat, and behind her, her chauffeur carried a monster basket of pineapples, grapes, nectarines and peaches, the whole surmounted by an enormous bow. I

Jill was on the stairs, a tray with a cup of meat essence in her hands, as Viva entered. She stopped. “Hullo, Viva.” “Hullo darling. You didn’t expect your only sister to ring, did you? How I is he today?” ‘He’s better. He will be a little betI ter every day now, the doctor says.” “Isn’t that wonderful. I feel as if I’d done my good dead for life, if I never do another. When are you going to let me see him again, Jill?” “The doctor says it will be another fortnight, before he is fit for visitors ”

“That seems funny when I was there almost at the death, so to speak,” said Viva flippantly. ‘“However, I’m not very keen on sickrooms. And yet Gerald Greer has a marvellous publicity idea —to have me photographed with him, you know —the devoted admirer whose life I haved. I wouldn’t have used Oliver’s name, of course. But he rang up the British Medical Association and they said that came under the heading of advertisement, so I had to abandon the idea.”

“I should think so,” gasped Jill. “I just think so! As if Oliver would have allowed it, as if I would have allowed it for him. You're mad. Viva —stark, staring mad!” “Not so mad, as you think,” said Viva complacently. “By no means as mad as you think. I gather you haven’t seen the papers by any chance? No? Well, I thought not. They’re in the car. Wait, I’ll get them ” “Viva how could you, how could you?” gasped Jill a minute afterwards. “How could you be so indecent?” “I don’t know what marriage has done to you, Jill,” said Viva bitingly. "You seem to have learn rather a funny way of speaking to me. I should have thought you would be grateful to me for saving your husband’s life! And if the papers get hold of the story, why shouldn't they? It has a human interest hasn’t it? A film star has to make her mind up to the fact that she has no privacy, that there isn’t a detail of her life that isn’t exciting to her public. That’s a particularly nice photograph of me isn’t it? It’s the one Gerald Greer likes best, actually.” “Viva, are you going to marry Gerald Greer?” asked Jill abruptly.

“Oh, I shouldn’t think so,” said Viva with deliberate vagueness. She went back to the former topic. “I. haven’t let a single paper print Oliver’s name.” “But they’ll all know in Charnford, ’ said Jill. “I feel so ashamed. They’ll be chewing over this with all their meals. I’d have given my right hand for this not to have happened!” “My dear,” said Viva, “I think you need a change. You’re letting Charnford get on your nerves. It’s a silly place, anyhow.” “But we have to live in it,” said Jill. “You’re not in your best of moods today,” said Viva. “I think I’d better go.” “I think you had,” said Jill. “Well, give Oliver these flowers and fruit with my love,” said Viva, “and tell him that as soon as he is able to sec anybody I shall be his first visitor.” This was a threat, rather than a promise, as Jill well knew. Viva felt that she had the best of the encounter, as she drive away. The nerve of Jill, she reflected, to think she would suppress a perfect piece of publicity like that! Why, any of the others would have given their eyes to have it! And she wondered if, in spite of the British Medical Association, she might give the Daily Picture young man. who was really so very charming, that tiny snapshot of Oliver she had taken last year in the garden of Lilac Cottage. But Viva’s self-advertising campaign had one good result at any rate. The next day Malcolm Trant turned up. He demanded to see Jill in a way that brooked of no refusal. “Look here, Jill,” he began without preliminary, “what has Viva been up to now?”

“You may well ask,” said Jill. “I never saw anything so outrageous, never! Of course after the police case last year, there's hardly anybody who hasn't guessed at the name of her devoted admirer. I don’t know what truth there is in the story, but Viva’.; a brat and a minx. She deserves smacking. Jill, why did you choose hei - as a sister? If Oliver really feels I like that about her. when he's married to you, then he's a fool. But I can't believe he does. He's married one of the best girls in the world. “It does my conceit a whole lot ol good when you say things like that to me, Malcolm." said Jill, half-laughing and half-serious. (To be Continued).