Love is Eternal Read online

  Love is Eternal

  by

  YVONNE WHITTAL

  It should have been a dream come true.

  But Joanne Webster's marriage to the eminent Dr. Daniel Grant was to be for mutual convenience.

  “Love doesn't enter into our agreement,” he had informed her coolly. “It is a fabricated emotion I have no time for. What I’m offering will be purely and simply a business arrangement to last no longer than a year.”

  Joanne had worked well with Dr. Grant as a nurse. But could she accept their loveless marriage without being hurt?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Joanne Webster faced her late Uncle Steven’s lawyer across the wide expanse of his desk. She had called on Samuel Davidson with a purpose, yet at this point she hesitated, and her hesitation invoked a feeling of sympathy in the stern-looking man who sat drumming absently on his desk blotter with the tips of his blunt fingers, the hum of the air-conditioner the only other sound to disturb the uncomfortable silence.

  ‘You came to see me about the last will and testament of your late uncle, Mr. Steven Webster?’ he prompted gently, and Joanne’s long, dark lashes flew upwards to unveil clear green eyes that registered surprise and a certain amount of anxiety as they met the lawyer’s.

  ‘Mr. Davidson, perhaps I should explain.’ Her well-modulated voice possessed a quality of warmth that never failed to attract attention, and to soothe those listening to her. Mr. Davidson was no exception, for his tired eyes registered surprised pleasure as he leaned back in his leather chair and prepared himself to listen. ‘My brother and I were left more or less destitute when my parents died in a car accident five years ago. I had only just started my training as a nurse, and Bruce—my brother—still had to complete three years at school. Uncle Steven took pity on us and paid for Bruce’s education. Then, knowing how desperately Bruce wanted to become an engineer like himself, Uncle Steven offered to pay whatever expenses Bruce would have in order to attend university. Bruce and I considered this a loan, and we accepted it on the understanding that we repaid it once Bruce has qualified. That was two years ago,’ Joanne ended lamely, ‘and my brother still has several years to go before he can start earning a living. ’

  ‘And now you want to know if your aunt will continue with the loan. Am I correct?’

  Joanne nodded, nervously fingering the strap of her handbag. ‘Nothing was written down to this effect, and I wondered if my uncle perhaps mentioned something about it in his will.’

  Samuel Davidson’s fingers resumed their drumming on the blotter, and Joanne began to feel like a watch that was being wound too tightly.

  Samuel Davidson cleared his throat unnecessarily, and she experienced a sense of foreboding. ‘If you had not made this appointment to call on me this afternoon, you would have received a letter shortly, instructing you to pay me a visit. I’m afraid, Miss Webster, that I have some unpleasant news for you.’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me that the loan was never mentioned in my uncle’s will?’ Joanne asked, steeling herself against the inevitable.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Miss Webster,’ Samuel Davidson confirmed her suspicions. ‘And your uncle’s wife, Mrs. Irene Webster, has instructed me to inform you that she has no intention of continuing with the loan.’

  It was to be expected, Joanne thought unhappily. Irene, with no children of her own, had never made a secret of the fact that she disliked the idea of her husband giving financial help to his late brother’s children, and her personal dislike of them had been just as evident.

  ‘Do you realise what this means, Mr. Davidson?’ she asked, controlling the tremor in her voice with difficulty. ‘It means that my brother will have to discontinue his studies if I’m unable to find the money somewhere with which to help him. Oh, I’ve saved up a certain amount over the years with which I’d hoped to help him repay the loan one day, but the entire amount wouldn’t be enough to keep him at university for another six months, let alone several years. ’

  Samuel Davidson’s sympathetic glance rested momentarily on her pale cheeks before lingering on her pink, quivering lips. ‘Perhaps if you discussed this with your aunt ...”

  ‘No! Never!’ she said adamantly. ‘Bruce and I never asked Uncle Steven for any financial help. What he did for us, he did of his own free will, and we appreciated it tremendously, but I have no intention of going on my knees to Irene Webster. As far as she’s concerned we’re the poor relations

  who should never have trespassed beyond her kitchen door. ’

  Samuel Davidson looked taken aback. ‘Is there no one else you could approach for a loan?’

  Joanne swallowed with difficulty. ‘We have no one else, Mr. Davidson, and no bank would give me a loan without someone standing security.’

  There was a strained silence in the room before Samuel Davidson spoke with deep sincerity. ‘I understand what this must mean to you, Miss Webster, and if it were in my power to help you in some way, I would, but, as it is, there’s nothing I can do. If Mr. Webster had made a stipulation in his will concerning the loan, then nothing, and no one would have been able to alter the situation. ’

  Joanne rose to her feet, tall and slim in her pale green suit. ‘It was kind of you to see me, Mr. Davidson, and I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time. ’

  ‘It was my pleasure, Miss Webster,’ he said instantly, taking the hand she extended towards him and holding it a moment longer than necessary.

  After the cool interior of Mr. Davidson’s offices, Joanne welcomed the warm sunlight on her pale cheeks as she stepped out on to the pavement that January afternoon in Cape Town, and walked the short distance to the tearoom where Bruce eagerly awaited her return.

  ‘What on earth am I going to tell him?’ she wondered frantically as she waited at the pedestrian crossing for the lights to change. ‘How do I tell him that his hopes for the future have become worthless dreams?’

  The lights changed and Joanne crossed the street, oblivious of the appreciative glances turned in her direction while she wrestled with her problem. Her pace slowed when she reached the other side. The tea-room was just a block away, and she needed time to think. There had to be some way of getting the money they needed, but her prospects were nil, and she knew it. If only ...

  Joanne pulled herself together. It was useless dwelling on something she did not have the power to change, she decided firmly.

  Bruce, fair and slim, rose expectantly as she entered the tea-room, and Joanne’s heart twisted with agony. He was all that she had, and she could not let him down.

  ‘What’s the verdict?’ he asked when she joined him at the corner table, but her expression must have given him a clue. ‘It wasn’t good, was it?’

  ‘I’m afraid it was worse than I expected. ’

  Bruce faced her in silence and there was no way she could soften the blow. ‘Uncle Steven made no provision in his will for the loan, and Aunt Irene has stated that she doesn’t want to continue with it.’

  Bruce looked crestfallen, but his determination matched Joanne’s. ‘Then there’s only one thing I can do. I’ll have to give up this temporary job I’ve taken for the holidays, find myself a permanent job, and study part-time.’

  ‘No!’ Joanne lowered her voice instantly as heads turned in their direction. ‘I won’t let you do that. Not yet, anyway. ’

  ‘Jo, there’s nothing much else I can do,’ he persisted doggedly. ‘You don’t have the money, do you?’

  ‘I have something saved, but not enough,’ she was forced to admit sadly.

  ‘Then the matter is settled. ’

  ‘Bruce, you’ll never make it that way,’ she pleaded. ‘Give me a little time, and I might just come up with something.’

  His features broke into a rel
uctant smile. ‘Knowing you, Jo, you’ll move heaven and earth to help me, but don’t do anything foolish. Not on my account, please!’

  Joanne smiled for the first time, a warmth and a tenderness in her glance as it rested on the young man seated opposite

  her. ‘We have a month before the university reopens, and that should give us enough time to think of an alternative. ’

  Joanna might have sounded hopeful, but in her heart she knew the dreaded feeling of defeat. It would be so easy to let Bruce take a permanent job somewhere. He could still keep the flat he shared with a fellow student, but she knew he would soon discover how little time that would leave him for his studies, and, eventually, he would be forced to abandon his dream, to become as dissatisfied as their father had been. No, she would not allow it.

  They parted company eventually, and Joanne took the bus to her small flat near the hospital where she worked as a theatre Sister. The journey took less than a half hour and, when she eventually turned the key in the lock of her door, a feeling of desolation swept over her. She pushed open the door and closed it behind her with a sigh, staring about her for a moment as if she were seeing the interior of her flat for the first time, from the drab curtains on the windows down to the worn carpet on the floor. She had saved her money so religiously over the past years that there had been little left for luxuries. Uncle Steven’s loan had provided enough for Bruce, but she was determined to have enough saved to help him repay the loan one day. Now Uncle Steven was no longer there, the money he had loaned them to that date still had to be repaid, and an even larger amount had to be found for Bruce to continue his studies.

  It was impossible, she realised, burying her face in her hands. No matter how much she thought about it, there seemed to be no way of acquiring the money she needed.

  ‘Oh, what a mess!’ she sighed, pushing herself away from the door and going through to her room.

  She kicked off her shoes and took off her suit, hanging it neatly on a hanger in the wardrobe before she wrapped a thin housecoat about her and went through to the kitchen to make a strong pot of tea. Heaven only knew what she was going to do, she thought as she switched on the kettle, but she would have to find a solution—and find it soon.

  A week later Joanne was no nearer to solving her problem, and it was beginning to have a serious effect on her work. Twice that morning she had passed Dr. Grant the wrong instrument during a delicate operation to restore a man’s features to normality. Dr. Grant’s blue eyes above his mask had at first been surprised, then downright angry when it happened a second time. She had murmured apologetically, forcing herself to concentrate, but the mistakes had been made, and Dr. Grant would have every right to ask for a replacement.

  Nothing happened, however, and Joanne’s nerves settled as the day drew to a close. She had had a narrow escape, and she would have to watch her step in future.

  When she finally went off duty shortly after six that evening she was weary to the extreme, and longed only for a hot, relaxing bath before seeking her bed, but, as she approached the bus stop, a large, powerful-looking car drew up beside her.

  Joanne stepped back automatically, but the door on the passenger side was flung open, and Dr. Grant’s voice said authoritatively, ‘Get in! ’

  Joanne reacted to the command in that voice as if he had snapped an order in the operating theatre and, seated beside him, the powerful car was set in motion once again.

  ‘Dr Grant, I’m sorry about—’

  ‘Later,’ he snapped, and Joanne shrank meekly into her corner, dreading this private confrontation with this man who could be so formidable at times.

  She should have known that Daniel Grant was not the kind of man who would run to Matron with complaints, and that he would deal with the matter in his own manner. She was not too sure at that moment which she would have preferred, Matron’s sharp tongue, or Daniel Grant’s wrath.

  She stole a glance at him, but his expression gave her no indication of his thoughts. She admired his skill as a plastic surgeon and, after working with him in the theatre for almost two years, she had grown accustomed to his abruptness, and the almost menacing attitude he adopted when something was not to his liking.

  Tall and lean, with raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes, he had most of the nursing staff practically swooning over him, but he appeared to be unaware of their adoration. He was attractive; too attractive, Joanne had thought on many occasions, and her admiration and respect had often bordered on something far deeper which she had had to clamp down severely. They had seldom spoken to each other out of the theatre, but here she was, seated beside him in his car, and being driven she knew not where.

  It was ridiculous, she thought nervously. He could have reprimanded her in the privacy of her office without going to such lengths to see her alone.

  The car slowed down and she glanced about her with interest for the first time. He had brought her to an out-of-the-way coffee bar and, after parking the car, he ushered her inside as if he was in a hurry to get this distasteful matter over and done with.

  ‘Right, let’s have it,’ he said without preamble the moment their coffee was served. ‘What’s been eating you up inside this past week?’

  It was not a question, but an order, and so very typical of the man. ‘Why should there be something troubling me?’

  ‘Look, Sister Webster ... Joanne.’ He pinned her to her chair with his incredible blue eyes. ‘May I call you Joanne?’

  Startled, she could do no more than nod, her name sounding strange on his lips.

  ‘There must be something wrong, Joanne, when a responsible and conscientious theatre Sister suddenly becomes scatterbrained,’ he continued, his voice deep and gravelly. ‘Either you tell me what it is so that we can sort it out and get things back to normal, or I shall be forced to ask for a replacement. ’

  ‘You’re welcome to do that, Dr. Grant,’ she said, her chin raised proudly, but the faint quiver of her lips did not go undetected.

  ‘Come now, Joanne,’ he said impatiently. ‘You know as well as I do that it would be difficult to replace you.’

  A compliment from Dr. Daniel Grant was something unheard of, and an odd sense of pleasure stole through her as she said: ‘It’s a private matter, Dr. Grant.’

  ‘No longer, it isn’t,’ he contradicted strongly. ‘From the moment you brought it into the theatre it became my problem as well as yours. So out with it, Joanne Webster, and make it quick. ’

  Joanne stared at him for a moment, taking in the lean features, the dark, questioning brows, the straight, high-bridged nose and firm but perfectly chiselled mouth. Perhaps, she thought tiredly, it might just help to talk to someone about her problem, and sharing her load with Daniel Grant might alleviate some of the weight she had been carrying about with her since her visit to Samuel Davidson. No one could really help her, but it would be a relief to talk to an impartial listener.

  ‘I’m not sure I know where to begin,’ she said hesitantly, lowering her eyes to her hands in her lap to avoid his keen glance.

  ‘At the beginning. It’s always the best place to start, I’ve found.’

  A nervous smile plucked at her lips, but she obeyed instantly, telling him everything as she had told Samuel Davidson, and ending with the bombshell that the loan was to be discontinued.

  ‘Have you discussed the matter with your aunt?’ Daniel Grant asked when she lapsed into silence.

  ‘No, I haven’t, and I don’t intend to. Aunt Irene has always walked about with her nose in the air, and, because my father was nothing more than a clerk in the Civil Service, they were never made very welcome in her home.’ Joanne stopped to draw a quivering breath. ‘I’m surprised she tolerated having Bruce in her home those first three years while he was still at school.’

  ‘Perhaps I should go and speak to the lady in an effort to make her change her mind. ’

  ‘It won’t do any good,’ Joanne said tersely, ‘and I have no intention of begging. ’

&n
bsp; Daniel Grant’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘This is no time to let your pride stand in the way of your brother’s future.’

  If he had slapped her it could not have had a more startling effect, and her eyes widened in her pale face. ‘You’re right, of course. It is pride that’s preventing me from approaching her, but I don’t think I would be able to take her refusal without feeling that I’ve belittled myself in her eyes.’

  ‘Then I shall go and see her for you. ’

  Joanne was not too sure whether she should take him seriously or not. For Daniel Grant to intervene on her behalf was totally irrational. Why on earth should he take it upon himself to help her out of her predicament when it really did not concern him personally at all? She would have understood his anger at her negligence in the theatre, but not this sudden desire to involve himself in her personal affairs.

  They had finished their coffee and Dr. Grant drove her back to her flat in silence. It had been kind of him to listen to her problems, she thought distractedly, but it was foolish of him to think that he could help, and she was certain that his silence meant that he had realised this.

  She directed him to her flat and, when he parked his car at the entrance, he addressed her for the first time since leaving the coffee bar. ‘Give me your aunt’s address.’

  Joanne’s hand tightened on the door handle. ‘You’re not serious about seeing her on my behalf, are you, Dr. Grant?’

  His expression hardened. ‘Sister Webster, I never make statements I don’t intend to fulfil, now give me that address and don’t argue. ’

  Joanne gave him the address without further argument and he scribbled it down in his notebook. ‘Will you give me a ring and let me know what she said?’

  ‘I’ll do better than that,’ he announced briefly as she slid from the car. ‘I’ll come back here and tell you personally, so have a couple of sandwiches waiting, because I’m bound to be hungry.’

  Joanne stepped back hastily as the car pulled away from the curb, but she stood for some time staring after him with a nervous flutter rising from her stomach. Really, she thought, the man had a nerve ordering her to prepare sandwiches for him as if they were still in the confines of the hospital where he might have had every right to do so!