WHEN Rose opened her eyes the first thing she saw was a cluster of yellow roses. They stood in a vase in front of an open window, their leaves stirring slightly in the breeze. Her eyes travelled round the room, bare except for a couple of chairs and so immaculately cleaned and polished that she knew immediately she was in hospital.
With this thought memory returned and she tried to sit up. She could not move! Panic rose in her and perspiration broke out on her forehead.
"Nurse," she cried. "Nurse!"
Instantly the door opened and a young nurse came in.
"So you are awake," a soft voice said in perfect English. "How do you feel?"
"I don't know. I can't move."
"It is to be expected, but do not worry."
"Have I injured my spine? Am I paralysed?"
"What a thing to say. Of course you're not paralysed. You're badly bruised and you must lie perfectly still."
"Where am I?"
"In a clinic in Nice and you're under the best medical care that money can buy."
Rose looked round the room. The best care that money could buy. Hammond money, she was sure.
"Lance!" she said fearfully. "What's happened to Lance?"
"Mr. Hammond is perfectly well. He was flung clear of the boat. You were the only one to be hurt. Now lie still and I'll get you a drink. I'm sure you'd like one. The doctor will be in to see you today and he'll answer all your questions."
For the rest of the day Rose dozed intermittently. Every time she awoke she tried to move, but although her mind willed it, she remained as immobile as a log. Gradually panic rose again and she became convinced there was
something wrong with her spine. Indeed, the fact that she did not have any pain only served to increase her fear, and everything she had ever read about paralysis and spinal injuries came back to haunt her. Suppose she never
recovered the use of her legs? Suppose she had to lie for ever in this bed?
Unable to bear her fear alone she rang the bell for the nurse and kept her finger on it until the door opened.
"Well now, whatever's the matter with you?" the nurse asked as she hurried in.
"I can't move," Rose gasped. "You're not telling me the truth. What happened to me? How badly have I been injured ?"
"You haven't been injured at all," the nurse said soothingly. "At least, nothing that we can see. You're going down to be X-rayed in about half an hour, and after the plates have been developed the doctor will be able to tell you much more. Now lie still like a good girl and don't excite yourself."
Realising it was hopeless to argue with a hospital's dictum, Rose did as she was
told.
The nurse had spoken the truth, for within twenty minutes she was lifted out of bed and wheeled along the corridor to the X-ray department. The radiologist spoke little English and did not even seem inclined to speak much in French, so that she had to be satisfied with monosyllabic answers to her questions.
Eventually she realised she would learn nothing from him either, and that she would have to wait until she could speak to the doctor himself.
Nearly two hours elapsed before she was wheeled back to her room and no sooner was she settled in bed and left alone than the nurse rushed in again, looking far less composed than usual. The reason for it followed immediately on her heels in the shape of Lance Hammond.
"Mr. Hammond can only stay a moment," the nurse enjoined. "You've had an exhausting time and must go to sleep."
She went out and Lance moved over to the foot of the bed and looked at Rose.
He was paler than she had ever seen him, though whether or not this was due to the dark suit he was wearing she did not know. He seemed overnight to have lost weight.
"What can I say?" he said abruptly. "Any sort of apology sounds so—so—"
"You've no need to apologise," she interrupted. "It was an accident."
"An accident caused by my carelessness. You needn't try and make me feel better. I'm my own judge and a pretty harsh one."
"Please don't be. You didn't know what you were doing and—"
"And yet you came with me. You shouldn't have done it, Rose. I wanted to be alone."
He sat down in a chair by the window, his face turned away from her. She longed to ask him if he had seen Enid but could not bring herself to do so.
Instead she looked at his profile, the straight nose, the curve of the high forehead and the shining blond hair, not quite so immaculately groomed as usual.
"Don't feel so badly about me, Lance. I'll be all right in a few days."
"Of course you will." He leaned forward and caught her hand as it lay on the coverlet. The touch of his fingers set her pulses racing, and she was so afraid lest he notice it that she pulled her hand away. He misinterpreted the gesture and for the first time she saw him turn red.
"I'm not surprised you can't bear me to touch you," he said abruptly. "Not after the way I've smashed you up. Oh Rose—forgive me! Forgive me!"
The intensity of his words made her feel uneasy and she stared at him.
"Smashed me up? Why do you put it like that?"
He did not answer and her fear grew.
"Lance!" she said. "Lance, tell me how badly I'm hurt."
He got to his feet and walked back to the foot of the bed. "We won't know till tomorrow. You can't move because your spine's badly bruised, but we've got to wait for the X-rays to find out exactly what's wrong." He hesitated. "It might mean that you'll have to stay in bed for a while. Three weeks, maybe—or a bit longer."
"I see." She was so overwhelmed to hear it would not be worse that words failed her and tears of weakness coursed down her cheeks.
He saw them and gave an exclamation. "Rose, don't cry. My dear girl, don't cry."
"I'm sorry." She made an effort to be calm. "I know men hate tears, but I'm so tired I can't seem to control them."
"You need to get some sleep. I'd better go before the nurse chucks me out."
He walked to the door. "I'll see you again soon, Rose. But meanwhile don't worry. I'll look after you."
Left alone, Rose fell into an uneasy sleep, and the three weeks that Lance said she might have to stay in bed became magnified in her dreams until they
stretched into months and years. She awoke in a cold sweat and turned on the light. Midnight. The hours before the doctor came to see her stretched
endlessly ahead and she shifted her head restlessly on the pillow and thought about Lance's future and her own. Would Enid be able to persuade him to give her another chance? She had deceived him it was true, but love could be blind,
and Lance was more blind than most. If he were not he would have realised by now that she herself was in love with him. Thank heaven he had not! Her pride was the only thing she could take home with her: her heart she would certainly be leaving behind.
At nine o'clock the next morning the nurse ushered in the doctor, and Rose looked at him with trepidation. He was younger than she had expected with a lined face and dark hair. In his hand he carried a buff colored folder in which she caught a glimpse of some X-ray pictures.
As if sensing her tension he dispensed with greetings and said immediately the words she wanted to hear. "You've nothing to worry about as far as paralysis is concerned, Miss Tiverton. Within a week—two weeks at the most— you'll be able to walk properly."
Rose was so relieved that she wanted to shout for joy.
"I can't tell you how thankful I am to hear you say that. It's wonderful to know I'll be perfectly well again."
A strange expression crossed the doctor's face, and as she saw it her voice faltered.
"I will be perfectly well again, won't I?"
"Not quite." The man's voice was steady, but his eyes were full of compassion.
"You see, there has been some damage to the spine, and though rest and treatment will go a long way towards effecting a cure, I'm afraid it will never be a complete one."
"Do you mean I'll always be in pain?"
"Not pain, though you might suffer a little discomfort from time to time." He hesitated and looked at the floor.
"What I really mean is that because of the damage to the nerve centre—
damage incidentally which we cannot completely see in an X-ray but can only guess at—you'll always walk with a limp."
"A limp!" Rose looked at him, unable to believe she had heard correctly.
"Don't look so tragic, my dear," the doctor said sternly. "Twenty minutes ago you were convinced you'd have to lie like a log for the rest of your life. At least now you know you'll be able to move around freely and you should thank God your injuries weren't worse."
Rose drew a deep breath. "You're right," she said with an effort. "I was expecting to hear something much worse and when I didn't I thought I—I thought I—" she swallowed and continued, "I'm sorry for being so childish about it."
"You're not being childish at all. If I appeared to speak sharply it was because I didn't want you to be full of self- pity. Think how much worse it would have been if you had lost a leg for example! As it is, although you won't be able to indulge in any sports you'll still be able to lead an active life."
"What about standing? Will I be able to stand for long periods?"
"Not for the first six months, I should say. But it depends how strong your recuperative powers are. The spinal colmun is such a complex mechanism that doctors have often been proved wrong."
Rose closed her eyes. If she could not stand for long periods it would put paid to her work as a florist. With an effort she choked back the sobs that thickened her throat and forced herself to smile at the grave-faced man watching her.
"Is there no way at all that I could be cured?"
"None I could reasonably advise."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, a Swiss professor has been known to effect a cure in similar cases to yours, but the operation he performs is a delicate one with a high percentage of failure."
"Surely it's worth a try?"
The doctor shook his head. "It has a high mortality rate. Too high for me to recommend it to any patient of mine." He patted her hand. "The best thing you can do it to accept the fact that you'll walk with a limp. It won't disfigure your appearance and your legs will look as lovely as ever. Now I'll send Mr.
Hammond in to see you. He's been waiting outside for the last half hour."
When Lance stepped into the room Rose knew from the look on his face that he had already spoken to the doctor.
"I don't know what to say," he muttered. "I've never involved anyone in an accident before and I…"
He began to pace the room, his broad shoulders blocking out the light each time he strode past the window. For so tall a man his footsteps were
extraordinarily light, and she felt such a rush of physical awareness for him that tears brimmed over her eyes.
Lance stopped abruptly and looked at her, his face drawn with compassion.
"Don't cry, my dear," he said. "You've nothing to worry about. I'll arrange things so that you need never worry about working again."
"There's no need for you to do anything of the sort. I might not be able to work as a florist but there are lots of other jobs I can do."
"I don't want you to work at all."
"That's silly," she said quickly. "I can't live in idleness."
"You can go and enjoy yourself. Take a cruise or a trip to America—anything you like. Damn it all, it was because you were trying to help me that you've ended up a cripple!"
The moment he uttered the last word he stopped, aghast at what he had said.
Then he leaned forward and caught her hands tightly in his.
"Rose! You must let me help you. It's the only way I can appease my conscience."
She pulled her hands away from his. Many had been the times that she dreamed he was holding her dose and looking at her with the gentleness he was now displaying. Yet this gentleness was due to pity and she wanted no part of it.
"Many people are cripples," she said firmly. "But the doctor's assured me I'll be able to lead an almost normal life. I'll probably have to take things easy for six months or so, and I should imagine your insurance will cover me for that time, but—"
"For heaven's sake don't talk that way! Do you think I'd leave you to my
insurance company? You were injured trying to help me, and I'm going to look after you whether you like it or not."
He walked over to the door and had his hand on the knob before he turned round. "I'll be back to see you tomorrow and we'll talk about your future then."
Left alone, Rose indulged in the relief of tears, and as she cried she began to feel better and more able to cope with the situation. Lance's use of the word cripple had appalled her, but she knew it was far better to face up to all that the word implied rather than keep running away from it.
'I'll have to make a habit of standing still,' she thought and shook her head. No matter how rational she tried to be, she realised she had not fully assimilated the fact that when she stood up and moved she would no longer be the same girl she had been before the accident. Gingerly she shifted in the bed. It was now possible to move her limbs slightly, although the effort caused intense pain. She lay back on the pillows and thought of her future, and how best she could live. Nothing seemed to matter any more, and she did not care whether her lameness made her less attractive to men and, because of it, less
marriageable. This apathy was not due to indifference but merely to the knowledge that if she could not have Lance she did not want anyone.
It was during the afternoon that Rose received her first visitor apart from Lance. It was Alan and he came in—nay staggered in—with an enormous basket of fruit. He placed it on the bedside table and bent to kiss her cheek.
"I've, heard the news and if there's anything I can do, you just have to ask me."
Smiling, she shook her head and he made a face and sat down.
"I hate independent women. You should learn to be submissive !"
"Now don't start lecturing me, Alan. I've had enough of that already."
He did not question her remark but, as if aware that she did not wish to talk about her accident, proceeded to regale her with all the gossip that had
occurred since her stay in the nursing home. Rose had always known Alan to be an interesting conversationalist, but not until today had she known that he also had a keen and perceptive eye, as well as a dry wit with which to recount
all he saw. Listening to him tell her the Riviera tittle-tattle she felt a return to normality, and the tension left her body as she laughed at his jokes and gossip.
But eventually there was no more gossip to be recounted and she asked the two questions that had lain in the back of her mind since she had first
recovered consciousness.
"How were Lance and I rescued from the sea and what happened to Enid?"
"What do you want to know first?"
She half-smiled. "The rescue, please."
"Fine. I take it you remember what happened before, so I'll just tell you what occurred after the speedboat crashed into the side of the yacht. Lance
managed to grab you clear of the debris and keep you afloat until you were both picked up by his crew. You were brought here immediately and Lance came on to the villa. I was sleeping there and he burst into my bedroom looking demented. I managed to calm him down a bit and as soon as it was daylight he sent word that he wanted to see Enid." Alan rubbed the side of his face. "I wasn't with him at the time but I can tell you they had a pretty terrible row and that she packed her bags within the hour and drove away."
"And what about Tino?"
"Ah, that was a sight worth watching! He was staying at the villa too, as you know, and when he came down to breakfast on the terrace, he found Lance waiting for him. He was up the stairs in double quick time and was out of the house again before I'd had my second cup of coffee!"
Rose grinned. "I wish I'd been there to see it. I think that of the two, Tino acted far worse than Enid."
"You're merely defending your own sex."
"Not at all," she protested. "But at least I can understand a woman falling in love with a man although she's engaged to someone else. What I couldn't bear about Tino was the way he fawned over Mrs. Hammond. Why, she was years older than he was."
"It's never worried her," Alan said dryly. "And if it hadn't been Tino it would have been somebody else."
"Has she always been like that?"
"Since Lance's father died. You see, when she woke up to the fact that she was all alone, she realised she wasn't young any more. Lance's father had been
"Since Lance's father died. You see, when she woke up to the fact that she was all alone, she realised she wasn't young any more. Lance's father had been