'You're thinking of going over the wall?' Astra queried, having taken home the clothes Yancie had been wearing.
'They're letting me out the day after tomorrow. But I've had enough of nightwear,' Yancie answered.
'I'll drop some stuff off on my way to work in the morning,' Fennia promised.
Yancie couldn't sleep that night for thinking of what Thomson had asked. And, while part of her denied his proposal had any meaning, she just couldn't believe he would ever say something like that and not mean it. He was drowsy, remember. Yes, but he had known it was her he was speaking to. Must have done. Yancie Dawkins, he'd called her. `Promise me, Yancie Dawkins, that you'll marry me?' Excitement surged up in her. Did he love her; dared she hope? She couldn't wait to see him tomorrow.
Fennia dropped by in the morning with some clothes for her, as she'd said she would.
'Anything you need when I come in tonight?' she asked before she dashed off to her nursery work.
'I have everything,' Yancie smiled, and as Fennia went on her way Yancie couldn't help but wonder, and hope, Had she? If it was true and Thomson did want to marry her, did love her, she would not want for anything else.
Fennia had brought Yancie one of her very favourite dresses-a very fine wool affair in a most gorgeous shade of blue. Yancie showered and dressed and waited as long as she possibly could before she slipped along the corridors.
She was nearing the side room where she had seen Thomson yesterday, when all her hopes were sent crashing. Mrs Wakefield was just coming out of his room. Yancie saw that Thomson's mother had recognised her and knew that she wasn't thrilled to see her when, coming only a little away from the door, she blocked her progress.
'Haven't you done enough?' she challenged viperishly.
'The accident wasn't my fault,' Yancie pointed out reasonably.
'What are you doing here?'
Honestly! `I've come to see Thomson' Yancie answered-grief, if all her dreams came true, this dragon was going to be her mother-in-law!
'Thomson, is it?' Mrs Wakefield challenged, in Yancie's view clearly having been feasting on the churlish tart again. `Mr Wakefield,' the woman went on heavily, `has no wish whatsoever to see you.'
'I think you'll find you're wrong there,' Yancie refused to give ground.
Mrs Wakefield cared not. `The only persons my son wishes to see-' she ignored what Yancie had said `-are myself and his fiancee.'
Yancie went cold. `H-his fiancee?' she questioned huskily, feeling staggered, and knowing it was showing. `I didn't know Thomson was engaged.'
'I can't think why you should imagine you have any right to know!' Mrs Wakefield said arrogantly.
Hope, stupid blind hope, began to surge upwards in Yancie again. Oh, heavens, could it be, dared she hope, that Thomson had just told his mother that he was getting married? True, he had fallen asleep yesterday before she'd had a chance to say yes, yes, a thousand times yes, but… `When did…?"
'Not that it's any business of yours, but my son and Julia Herbert have been engaged for quite some months now.'
'I…' Yancie gasped, reeling, her colour draining away. Then pride, wonderful, face saving pride, took a nip at her. `Of course. Julia. I'm sure they'll both be very happy.' With that, and it took all her strength to stay physically upright, Yancie turned about and went back the way she had come.
She left hospital the next day. She had discovered through the nursing network that Thomson was off the critical list, and was expected to make a full recovery. That news warmed her heart, but it was the only joy she found.
Knowing that he was expected to make a full recovery did not stop her from worrying about him, however, and she picked up the phone several times in the following twenty four hours to ring the hospital before putting it down again. He didn't care about her, and she was being silly.
Saturday afternoon had rolled around before, silly or not, she just had to give in to the compulsion to ring the hospital to find out how he was. `Mr Wakefield was well enough to be moved,' she was informed by an efficient sounding voice.
'He's gone home!' Yancie exclaimed; he wasn't well enough yet! He couldn't be.
'He won't be ready to go home for a week or two yet,' she was informed. `Although, once he's on his feet, he should from then on make a speedy recovery.'
That was a relief. `He's gone to another hospital?' Yancie realised. `May I know which one?"
'I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say.'
Yancie saw Mrs Wakefield's hand in that. She could almost hear her giving the instructions not to give out to anyone where he had transferred to-particularly not to any company driver.
Yancie did find out where Thomson was, however. Greville told her. He kept in touch, wanting to know about her progress, and seemed to see it only as a normal reaction since she had been driving Thomson at the time of the accident-that she would want to know about him. It was a red-letter day when Greville told her Thomson had been discharged from hospital.
As well as flowers from Kevin Veasey, Yancie had received a host of lovely get-well cards from Wilf Fisher and the other men in the transport department at work. But when her bruised shoulder was healed enough for her to go back to her driving duties Yancie had to give serious thought to her future-did she want to go back?
She still needed paid employment; there was no doubt about that. But could she face seeing Thomson again? Face possibly driving him again? Well, you never knew; they might be desperately short-handed one day and Thomson would have to take the risk; though that accident had never been her fault anyhow.
But, while aching to see him again, what good would it do? Could she bear to drive him knowing he was engaged and could be planning to marry Julia at any time? She might even be called upon on some occasion to drive both him and her.
Knives seemed to stick in her heart. That, she knew, she couldn't take. Without giving herself time to think further, Yancie rang Kevin Veasey and resigned.
'You're sure?' he asked, adding, obviously not holding the written-off Jaguar against her, `You don't want to think about it for a while?'
And, clearly assuming she had lost her nerve after the accident, he assured her," I'm sure, given time, that once you get behind the wheel again…'
'You're very kind, Kevin. But I've decided to train for a different career.'
She would too, she vowed-only not just yet. Although her bruises had cleared up, she still felt mentally bruised, beaten-and needed some time.
Which she had in plenty. Between them Fennia and Astra wouldn't allow her to do a thing domestically. And days stretched endlessly before her. Days when she had time to think. Too much time to think.
She half regretted her decision to leave Addison Kirk when Greville told her a couple of weeks later that Thomson had returned to work. She had given up all chance of seeing him again. But she must be strong. To make a clean break of it was the only way.
Yet that didn't stop her thinking about him. She went over and over again her every meeting with him. Recalled again that first meeting, remembered how she had thought he didn't have a laugh in him, and then recalled seeing him laugh.
Yancie knew she was spending too much time just dwelling on his every word, his every look, his every action, but she couldn't seem to stop. She didn't want to love him, but she couldn't stop that either.
She recalled how passionately they had kissed. How it had seemed then that they would make complete and beautiful love with each other. And how he had been so wonderful at her first hint of hesitancy.
He'd had too much common decency to attempt to persuade her after understanding her hint of uncertainty, even though he had probably known that her resistance would have been a weak thing had he renewed his onslaught to her senses.