‘There are four of us, so we can ask four girls. We must keep it small. There simply isn’t room in our flat for anything larger. David and Henry ‒ the two other chaps with whom we share the happy home ‒ can ask their own girls, and I suggest that you and this Jill girl come along to round it off. We are not exactly the finest of cooks. So you don’t think Jill will object to being asked to butter the odd sandwich, or fry a sausage?’
‘No, of course not. Jill is great fun once she forgets to feel shy, and no one can feel shy when wielding a frying-pan. It’s such a homely article.’
‘Then Jill shall be in charge of frying,’ he announced. ‘Splendid! Any chance of you two being able to get the same evening off next week?’
‘Luckily there’s a change on tomorrow,’ I said. ‘If there wasn’t, I don’t think we’d ever be able to get the same time off in the same ward.’ I told him where we were being moved.
‘Jill’s going to Margaret, eh? Couldn’t be better. Now Tom won’t have to waste any more time pretending he’s got this sudden urge for surgery. So we really are getting somewhere, and not a moment too soon. The poor guy’s wearing himself to a shadow. I tell you, he’s in a bad way! Shocking state for a man to be in just before his Finals.’ He frowned at me. ‘Which reminds me. Just what did you say to upset him last night?’
I stared at him momentarily. ‘Did I upset him last night? I only met him for a couple of minutes. I mentioned that I was having supper with you tonight ‒ and then the girl I was waiting for arrived and he drifted off.’
‘It certainly wasn’t our meeting tonight that upset him,’ he reassured me rather needlessly, since I knew that quite well for myself. ‘Who were you waiting for? Jill?’
‘No. A girl called Agatha.’
He said that probably explained everything. ‘The poor bloke was hoping he’d catch a glimpse of Jill, and all he got was a sight of this Agatha.’
I had to ask. ‘Does he talk about Jill a lot?’
He smiled faintly. ‘Since when has Tom talked a lot about anything? Of course he doesn’t. He never mentions her name at all, but the air positively vibrates, with unspoken words.’ He pushed back his chair. ‘All set, love? Right! Let’s go.’
We walked back towards the hospital as slowly as we had strolled previously, chatting. Mark said he did not think Tom would miss being given one of those much-coveted hospital appointments. ‘He’s got the right brains and the right record ‒ and he was the best back the Rugger Fifteen ever produced for three years running.’
‘What do you mean by the right record?’
‘He has never put a foot out of line in his private life. You know what I mean. The Dean doesn’t really care if we shin up fire-escapes and indulge in various infantile pranks, but he draws a line at anything with a slightly unsavoury air. Once a chap gets involved with anything like that he is finished as far as his future in the hospital is concerned. He may be allowed to carry on and qualify, but his chances of getting on the resident staff are nil. Now a job on the resident staff of your own teaching hospital ‒ as you must know very well, Sue, coming from a long line of our men ‒ is the aim of every newly-qualified man. Stands to reason; the hospital picks the best chaps for itself and turns the others loose. Tom has got his heart set on a medical house job. House Physician to the Professor is the plum, and Tom is well in the running. Which is yet another reason why I’m so keen that he should have a quiet mind and bright hopes for the future before he sits down to answer the first paper.’
Jill, as I had expected, took a great deal of persuading. ‘Sue, he can’t really want me. He hardly knows me. And I’m not cheerful and bright or any use at a party at all. I wish you’d ask Sally instead.’
‘I can’t ask Sally. I’m not the host, and the host has asked for you specifically.’ I reminded her, with apparent casualness, that Tom was going to be present, too. ‘You always say he and you get on. And as for your saying you won’t be much use, I think you’ll be a terrific help because we have to cook. Didn’t you say you always did the cooking at home? Fine! Then you must come or we’ll all starve.’
I was never sure whether it was my bringing in Tom’s name, or talk about cooking, that finally persuaded her. Her face lit up slightly. ‘That would be rather fun,’ she admitted cautiously. ‘And I can cook quite well.’
I beamed at her. ‘Then that’s settled, and all that now remains is for us to get the same evening off next week.’
But when I reached my own room I felt a little depressed. I shared Mark’s conviction of what would be the outcome of our bringing Tom and Jill together, and for both their sakes I was glad that two such nice people had had the good sense to be attracted by each other. But I could not pretend to be glad for my own sake. I lay in bed watching the night sky outside my window. The clouds were low over London, and there was no moon, not even a single star to lighten the blackness that was no blacker than my own thoughts.
I felt much more cheerful when I woke next morning. The thought of the ward change acted on me like a tonic. The sun shone as I crossed the hospital park to breakfast; the grass crackled under my feet with the remains of the early frost, and the branches of the plane trees glistened as if the branches were strung with diamonds. Jill smiled up at me as I arrived at the junior table. ‘You look on top of the world this morning, Sue.’
I sat in the chair she had kept for me, and exchanged good-mornings with Sally and Agatha, who were at the bacon and tomato stage. Agatha gave me a friendly nod and made history by not asking why I was always late for breakfast. Night Sister arrived to read the roll-call. When it was finished, Night Sister said she had two announcements to make. ‘Nurse Summers, Matron wishes you to report to Henry Ward and not to the General Theatre as you were originally instructed. And will Nurse Fraser please go to Joseph instead of Matthew and Mark. That is all, Nurses. I will now say Grace.’
I was very conscious of the anxious glances of my friends as we all stood behind our chairs. When Night Sister had gone and the whole of the day staff began to pour from the dining-room to the wards, Jill asked, soberly, ‘Sue, why do you suppose they’ve changed you?’
I shrugged miserably. ‘I don’t know.’
Carol Billings rushed up to me. ‘Sue, I wish you were joining me. It’s going to be grim on my own. I wonder why they have shifted you to Joseph? Is Joseph having a crisis?’
Nurse Chalmers was behind Carol and must have heard what she had said, because we heard her tell her companion in a high, clear voice, ‘Joseph certainly will have a crisis with Fraser in the ward. Obviously, Sister Matthew and Mark has heard of that girl’s reputation and simply refused to have her. I must say I’m not at all surprised, Cherry, but I do sympathise with you having her dumped on you.’
When Chalmers and the girl she had called Cherry had disappeared ahead of us through the dining-room door, I asked the others, ‘Who’s that girl?’
Carol said, gloomily, ‘Cherry Illingworth. She’s Senior Probationer in Joseph Ward. I don’t know what she’s like.’
I said, ‘I do. She’s like Chalmers. She walks in the same way, and looks down her nose in the same way.’
I wondered unhappily if Chalmers was right. It seemed very likely that she was. If Sister Matthew and Mark had not refused to have me, why should I have been changed like this at the last moment and, above all, why should I be sent to Joseph, the smallest and, by reputation, most peaceful ward in the hospital?
I thought all this over as I walked to my new ward, left my cloak in the changing-room, and then opened the glass door. I stepped inside the reputedly peaceful Joseph, and nearly fell backwards at the noise that greeted me. Before my eardrums had time to become accustomed to the voices of eighteen infants, an object came hurtling through the air towards my head. My hand shot up automatically and I caught the small woolly duck just before it crashed into the glass door. I looked round at the circle of cots, wondering to whom it belonged. I did not have to wonder long. A small, irate figure in blue-and
-white striped pyjamas was bouncing up and down in his cot, pointing an accusing finger at me. ‘That lady’s tooken my Quack! That lady’s tooken my Quack! Nursie! Nursie Illy ‒ that lady’s tooken my Quack and I wants him to bounce and come back to me!’
Nurse Illingworth, who had been studying the report book at the centre table, looked round and smiled at me coolly. ‘Hallo, Fraser! You had better let Frankie have his duck back, and then come over here and I’ll tell you what to do until the Staff Nurse arrives.’
I did as she said, apologising to the furious little boy. ‘I’m very sorry, love. I didn’t mean to take him. I just thought you wanted me to catch him.’
Frankie clutched his precious toy and scowled at me. ‘Quack doesn’t like being catched! Quack likes to bounce!’
I touched his curly head. ‘Sorry, Frankie. I’ll know better next time.’ I went over to the table where Cherry Illingworth was still watching me with the same supercilious smile.
She looked me over. ‘I really don’t know what you’ve come to us for. We aren’t short of a junior.’
I did not answer her. I felt very much as if I had stepped out of the frying-pan into the fire. Nurse Ellis, the Joseph Staff Nurse, did nothing to change this idea of mine. She was one of those tall, thin, icily blonde young women with a cool, poised manner and cool, clipped voice. ‘I had a day off yesterday, Nurse Fraser. Sister Joseph did not mention to me previously that we were expecting an extra junior. You had better help Nurse Illingworth with the breakfasts until Sister arrives. There may be some mistake about your joining us.’
But when Sister Joseph arrived at eight the atmosphere changed. She greeted me really warmly. She was small, dark, very slim and incredibly young for a Sister. She looked not much older than Jill, but she had none of Jill’s timidity. ‘So you are my new junior, Nurse? Good! I hope you will be happy with us. We have such a cheerful little family here. I asked Matron if she had a junior she could possibly spare, as I am to lose my present one in ten days’ time, just after the new tonsils come in. I do so dislike changes of staff after I have had a fresh batch of admissions. The children are such conservative little creatures and they always settle in much more quickly if they have faces around them to whom they have grown accustomed since admission. And where are you from, Nurse Fraser? Catherine? How nice! I was once Sister Catherine’s Staff Nurse. Catherine is a delightful ward. I am sure you much enjoyed your work there. I hope you will find Joseph equally enjoyable.’
When Nurse Carstairs, the girl I was replacing, came on at lunchtime, she took me under her wing in a friendly way, showing me how Sister Joseph liked the work to be done. She asked if I had ever nursed children before.
‘Never.’ I looked round the small, cheerful ward and at the walls that were covered with life-sized figures of fairy-tale stories. ‘I think they must be terrific fun once you get used to the noise.’
She laughed. ‘They’re fun all right. And you’ll get used to the noise. In a couple of days’ time you won’t hear it at all. You wait and see.’
I told Jill what Sister Joseph had said as we drank tea in her room that night. Carol banged on the door as I finished speaking. ‘Listen. I’ve got good news for you, Sue. Do you know why I’m in Matthew and Mark and you are in Joseph Ward? Simply because my name comes before yours in the alphabet. Sister Matthew and Mark told me so this evening.’
Jill clapped her hands. ‘So much for that wretched Chalmers! By the way, Sue, I’ve got Thursday off as an evening; Friday off all day. What about you?’
‘Thursday is my day off.’ I offered Carol a cup of tea and refilled my own. ‘This is all working out perfectly. All I have to do now is let Mark know. The snag is, I don’t know his address. I know he’s going to be away this weekend.’ I turned to Jill. ‘I’ve got it. You had better tell Thomas. You are bound to see him in Margaret Ward.’
Carol intervened. ‘Do tell me, who is Thomas?’
I said, airily, ‘Oh, just a student. A large young man. He’s a friend of Mark’s, and ‒’
‘A very large young man?’ she asked curiously. ‘Large enough to fill a clinical-room?’
Jill and I exchanged glances. I said, ‘That’s Thomas. Why?’
She said she had spent the day dodging round an enormous student in Matthew and Mark’s clinical-room. ‘I never discovered what he was doing there, and being new I didn’t like to ask. I thought he must go with the department.’
We smiled at her. ‘That’s Thomas all right.’
Jill said quietly, ‘I wonder what he was doing up there?’
I had an inspiration. ‘I did tell Mark about our changes, but he probably got muddled and passed the wrong information on to Thomas.’
Jill studied the inside of her teacup and smiled faintly. ‘Could be.’
Strangely enough, I simply could not get Thomas out of my mind, no matter how I tried. By Sunday night, when I finally walked out of Joseph Ward for the day, I was really annoyed with myself. It was absurd to let your imagination run hay-wire, I scolded inwardly. Absurd to have someone seem so real in your thoughts that every waking moment he seemed to be close at hand ‒ almost walking alongside. I hurried along towards the dining-room, staring at the floor as I thought these thoughts. I had been hurrying and staring for some time before I realised another pair of feet were striding along beside me. Feet that took one step to every two of mine. I glanced round incuriously and stopped still.
Tom stopped, too. He said quietly, ‘Something wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘Sorry.’ I forced a smile. ‘Hallo, Thomas!’
He looked back in the direction from which we had just come. ‘You aren’t working in Matthew and Mark, then?’
‘No, in Joseph.’ I told him all about it. It was not that I expected him to be interested, but simply that I always found it easy to talk to him. ‘I was upset at first, but I’m delighted about the mix-up now. The infants are sheer Heaven.’
‘And I take it you’ve got good ear-drums?’
‘I must have. I really don’t notice the noise at all now. Amazing how you can get used to things.’
He looked doubtfully back at the door. ‘I suppose so!’
Now he was not looking at me, I watched his face openly. He looked worried and more than a little tired. I wanted desperately to cheer him up, and suddenly realised how I could do it. ‘Thomas,’ I announced, ‘you are the very man I wanted to see.’
He looked up and raised one eyebrow ironically. ‘Oh?’
‘Yes. I want you to do something for me. Will you give Mark a message? It’s about the party you flat dwellers are going to give. That is, if you know you are going to give it?’ I added brightly.
He nodded. ‘I’ve heard about it.’ He smiled politely. ‘Are you and ‒ er ‒ your friend going to be able to come?’
‘Yes, we are. We’ve both got Thursday evening off. Isn’t that splendid?’
I guessed he was on edge to know about Jill. Being Thomas, he was hiding his nervousness behind his impassive expression.
‘Splendid,’ he echoed civilly.
‘So will you tell Mark for me? Yes, and do ask him how we get to your place. We don’t know the way.’
‘I’ll tell him.’ He put his hands in his pockets. ‘I don’t think you need worry about getting to us. Mark will come and fetch you. That’ll suit you, won’t it?’
‘That will be fine, thanks.’ I smiled happily to show that there was nothing more I asked from life than to have Mark come and take me to this wretched party, which I was dreading. ‘We’ll be looking forward to seeing you there, then?’
‘Yes. I will, too.’ He inclined his head slightly. ‘Glad I ran into you at a convenient moment, Sue. I’ll pass all this on to Mark. And I’m glad you like working in Joseph.’ He hesitated and looked anything but glad. ‘Things seem to be working out in your favour, don’t they?’ he said at last.
I could not think of any other answer so I said, ‘Yes.’
He looked a
t me gravely for a few seconds, then suddenly he smiled properly. ‘Good!’ he said, and walked away down the corridor. I watched him go, feeling strangely touched. He possessed a rare quality of sincerity. His short, final remark had been far more convincing than any flowery speech Mark might make. I watched him until he vanished round the bend in the corridor. He did not look back, so I could watch him at leisure. Then I turned and walked slowly on to the dining-room that lay in the opposite direction, and thought how it was always going to have to be like this. Tom would go one way; I the other. It was no use my pretending, even in a daydream, that it would ever be different.
Chapter Seven
Mark’s party was a great success. Everyone said so; and even Jill admitted one had never enjoyed herself so much at any party before. But except that I was genuinely thrilled at the way Jill blossomed out, I had not enjoyed one minute of that long evening. It was her skill as a cook that broke the ice. Mark had swept us all into the kitchen with the words, ‘Well, ladies, it’s all yours.’
For a few minutes Jill had hung back. Then the two other girls, Mary and Sheila, admitted that they knew nothing about cookery. I was almost as ignorant. I looked at Jill. ‘Just tell us where to start.’ And that did it. In no time Jill was wrapped in an apron borrowed from the landlady, and we were all whisking eggs and laughing at Jill’s good-humoured lectures, while the four men arranged themselves against the dresser and watched in open wonder as they saw the results of Jill’s handiwork and instructions.
The two other girls, Mary and Sheila, were student physiotherapists at our hospital. They were both slim, pretty and cheerful companions. But Jill, quiet, gentle Jill, looked quite radiant with a streak of flour on her left cheek, her normally neat, fair hair standing a little on end from the heat of the oven, and her eyes laughing in the way that none of the other girls in our set would have recognised.
A little later, Mark said, ‘You and I, Sue, have been wiser than we knew. That girl’s going to make a wonderful wife. Trust old Tom to have the sense to guess that. I wish I had a little more of his insight.’
The Fair Wind: A moving 1950s hospital romance (The Anniversary Collection Book 6) Page 9
