Outpost Hospital Read Free Page A

could hardly believe this was happening to her.

 
    CHAPTER THREE
    A few days after leaving the hospital, Katherine was to have her last meeting with Mark Charlton before they met at Southampton to board the boat. He was to spend the last week with his parents in London, and she had been surprised to receive a letter from him saying that he would visit her that evening. There was something he wanted to talk to her about before the trip.
    Throughout the day, as she polished and dusted, arranged flowers, shampooed and set her hair, she tried to guess why he was coming.
    When she could find nothing else to do downstairs and it was still only six o’clock, s he went up to her room and started packing one of the suitcases she would be taking with her. Most of her luggage had been sent oh in advance.
    She took a large box down from the shelf in the wardrobe and opened it. From among the folds of tissue paper, she lifted a dress. It was made of stiff silk in pale pink and it shimmered in the light as she shook it out. The style was simple; a low boat-shaped neckline, fitting bodice and a full skirt, smooth at the front but with dozens of deep, unpressed pleats at the back. There was a pair of matching shoes too.
    What on earth had come over her that day? She had gone into the store for a skirt and a blouse that would have been far more use to her than a cocktail dress she would probably never wear. But as she went up the stairs she had kept thinking of Elizabeth Frayne and about how beautifully dressed she always was, and this had been the result! Certainly West Africa was no place for such fripperies. Not for a hard-working nurse, anyway.
    There might be an opportunity to wear it on the voyage, though. And she replaced it in its box and put the box into her suitcase, the shoes beside it.
    At seven o’clock, she had a bath and put on a rose pink woollen dress. It was her favorite, for the warm color seemed to reflect itself in her cheeks and make her eyes brighter; and the soft material made the best of her slender figure. She brushed her dark hair until it shone, put on lipstick to match her dress and went downstairs.
    The little sitting room was looking its best, too. The lamplight was kind to the slightly worn carpet and armchairs. Bronze chrysanthemums in a blue jug gave color and fragrance, and a bright fire blazing in the hearth burnished the old-fashioned brass fender and companion set.
    Katherine’s father, a thin balding man in spectacles, sat at his desk poring over some stamps he had recently added to his collection. He looked at her over his gold-rimmed glasses. “What a pity I don’t collect Africa,” he remarked in his dry voice. “You could have sent me the new issues with the first-day postmarks. Perhaps not, though. I don’t suppose there’ll be a post office on the corner,” he chuckled. “Not even a letter box, I daresay.”
    Katherine was hardly listening. Her ears were straining for the sound of a car.
    At last it came, followed by a knock.
    As she let him in, she noticed that Dr. Charlton’s dark face was serious, more so than usual. He was almost frowning as he went with her into the sitting room.
    Mr. Marlowe looked up again from his beloved albums. “Ah, Dr. Charlton! This is very nice, meeting you again. It will be a long time until our next meeting, eh? But this is a noble work you are undertaking and I wish you the success you deserve. Yes, indeed.” He stood up and took Mark’s hands in his. He looked very small and frail beside the younger man. “You will take care of my Katherine, I know. I don’t need to worry about her. Now I must go and see the vicar about Sunday’s hymns—I play the organ, you know. You might be gone by the time I get back so I’ll bid you goodbye.”
    Katherine was standing by the window and, as the door closed behind her father, she turned to Mark.
    He was watching her, a smile hovering uncertainly about his lips. He leaned against the table, his long legs