Guardian Nurse Read Free Page A

off.’
    ‘Does a busy overseer have that?’
    ‘You’re making West out as a slavedriver.’ He stopped at traffic lights. ‘He isn’t.’
    ‘Perhaps that’s the opinion of an old employee. Probably you’ve known Mr. West so long that it wins you liberties that newcomers don’t get.’
    ‘I’m a newcomer,’ he informed her, ‘like yourself. I’ve only been with West since I left agricultural college some six months ago. No, Frances’... Frances had to smile a little at that young, assured Frances ... ‘he’s all right, is West.’
    She said thoughtfully, ‘So you’re a newcomer, too.’ She was thinking it would be of little use to ‘probe’ here.
    ‘Freshers both,’ he smiled, and took his eyes off the traffic a moment to say it. They were clear blue eyes. They pulled up at the expensive city office-apartme n t block. ‘I’ll put you out here, Frances, I have to bed this expensive baby. But I’ll see you.’ His eyes smiled again.
    Frances got out, entered the building and took the lift to the seventh floor where Mirramunna Estates had its office and B. West his city suite. She pressed the bell, and a plump, pleasant-faced woman opened the door.
    ‘You would be Miss Peters,’ she said. ‘Come in.’
    Frances followed Mrs. Campbell, as she learned, into a small but sufficient bedroom. A small but still sufficient child’s sleeping quarters had been made out of an adjoining box-room. Jason was not in the room, but that was only to be expected at ten in the morning.
    ‘You might care to put your things out,’ Mrs. Campbell suggested. ‘Mr . West intends remaining a few more days in Sydney before we go back.’
    ‘And Jason?’
    ‘He’s watching the traffic. That’... a sigh ... ‘at least diverts him.’
    ‘I’ll come at once,’ said Frances.
    ‘No need. I’m watching him.’
    Watching him. Watching a little semi-disabled boy of seven. What was this? Frances looked covertly at Mrs. Campbell, but knew immediately she could never hope for enlightenment here, even if she asked (as he had hinted she would) and she didn’t intend to ask.
    No, there was the unmistakable hallmark of the old and trusted retainer on Mrs. Campbell’s pleasant face. There was also, for all the pleasantry, a Scots canniness and a nurtured reticence.
    ‘I travel light,’ Frances said, turning ready to begin her duties.
    ‘Wise,’ approved Mrs. Campbell. ‘Well, if you’re really that anxious, come and meet the boy.’
    ‘I did that yesterday.’
    ‘Each new day is a fresh meeting, I’m afraid, he’s a handful, that one. Still’ ... a sigh ... ‘I suppose one must expect—’
    What she supposed and expected was not finished. She simply led Frances to the room to which Mr. West had led her yesterday, and there at the window once more sat the child, his leg held out stiffly, one elbow on the leg and supporting the young round chin. He did not turn as Frances joined him and he did not respond when Frances said brightly, ‘Hullo, Jason.’ With another sigh Mrs. Campbell went out.
    Frances got a chair and sat at the window, too. ‘Can you tell the different cars?’ she asked.
    No answer.
    ‘That one’s a Holden.’
    No answer.
    ‘So is that red one.’
    ‘They’re both Fords.’
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Of course.’
    Well, at least she had broken the ice!
    ‘First one to count ten Mini Minors gets a sweet.’ To show him she meant business she held up a barley sugar.
    He pretended not to see it, but she could see by his little moving mouth that he was counting. What a very lovely, if pale, little boy he was! He had, even this young, a distinct profile, and his hair was thick and fair. So far she could see no resemblance to his father—West senior was very dark-haired—but when he turned a moment later to call triumphantly, ‘Ten Minis !’ she saw he, too, had dark green eyes.
    ‘You win,’ she smiled, and handed him the sweet.
    He accepted it, then actually looked at her. More ice