The Fair Wind: A moving 1950s hospital romance (The Anniversary Collection Book 6)

by Lucilla Andrews

  Agatha said wildly, ‘Susan, you don’t understand what she’s saying! This is really serious, and if it gets to Matron ‒’

  ‘Do be quiet, girls!’ My head was aching so badly I would have wept had I not been too occupied to weep. ‘Listen! I’ve got to see Home Sister first, and it will be too late if I don’t go down now. I’ll come straight back and tell you everything afterwards. No, you needn’t tell me what Chalmers is saying. I can guess. But she’s got it wrong.’

  Jill’s gentle face was more anxious than I had ever seen it. ‘Why have you got to go to Home Sister? Did she send for you?’

  ‘No. I want to see her about it all myself. Let me go. I’ll be back soon. Wait here if you like.’

  They did not wait. They came out to the lift with me. The lift was sailing upwards, so we waited for it to reach our floor in an unhappy silence. When it reached us, Home Sister stepped out.

  ‘Nurse Fraser, it was you I was coming to see.’ She looked at us curiously. ‘Matron has just telephoned me to ask if you had gone to bed. If not, she wishes to see you in her office in the hospital now.’ She noticed my clean apron and gave an approving little nod. ‘You are nice and neat, Nurse. Fetch your cloak and go straight over.’ She turned as if to step back in the lift, then turned back again. ‘Have you been running, Nurse Fraser? You look very red in the face.’

  I said quickly, ‘No, Sister. I’ve got a bit of a cold.’

  Her brows drew together. ‘Your voice does not sound as if you have a cold. Are you not feeling well, Nurse? Come and see me, please, after you have seen Matron.’

  I never remembered going down in the lift or crossing the park in the dark. I must have done both, because shortly I was standing outside Matron’s outer office tapping on the door. One of the Assistant Night Sisters answered my knock. She smiled at me, and I thought: She hasn’t heard. Home Sister could not have heard either; she had seemed quite her usual self when she gave me the message. The Assistant Night Sister said Matron was waiting for me. ‘You are to go in now, Nurse. Just knock and go in.’

  My heart gave a sudden lurch as I knocked at Matron’s door. Then I heard her cool, ‘Come along, Nurse Fraser.’

  Matron was not alone. There were two other people with her. Two men. Not doctors; they were not wearing white coats. I did not look at them. I did not even look properly at Matron. I looked at something she was holding in her hand as she came towards me. She held the something out to me, and said in a very kindly manner, ‘Do these belong to you, Nurse Fraser?’ And she offered me my scissors. As she did so, one of the two men came forward, and now I recognised him.

  ‘That’s her,’ said Grandpa. ‘That’s the young lady I was telling you about, Matron. The young lady who saved our young Teddy this morning. As soon as I got home I said to my Lil: “Lil, I think that young lady was wearing a nurse’s dress.” And when Lil found them scissors caught in young Teddy’s jersey at the back, we knew she must be one of the nurses from our hospital. So we had to come up, Teddy’s Dad and I, to thank the young lady for what she done.’

  When Teddy’s grandpa and father had shaken my hand for the second time and had been shown out by the Assistant Night Sister, Matron told me to remain in her office. ‘I would like a word with you, Nurse Fraser.’ She nodded to the chair in front of her desk. ‘Please sit down, Nurse. I want to know all you did this morning, how you came to be in that district, and how you returned unnoticed to the Home.’

  Her grey eyes were very kindly; they were also very shrewd. So I told her everything. Matron’s only comment on Tom’s action on meeting me was a little nod and a murmured, ‘Very sensible, in the circumstances.’

  I had reached the stage in my explanation where Mrs. Jenkins had gone out to shop, when Matron stopped me. ‘One moment, Nurse.’ She stood up and walked round her desk. I rose automatically. She said, ‘Please do not get up, Nurse. The light is behind you, and I wish to alter it.’ She did this as she spoke. Then, instead of returning to her chair, she remained standing by me looking down at my face. Her expression altered; she looked suddenly very grave. ‘Is it hurting you to breathe, Nurse?’

  I swallowed. ‘A little, Matron.’

  She reached for my pulse in the instinctive gesture of a trained nurse. She held my wrist for a few seconds, still watching my face gravely, then drew her watch from her bib pocket. She wore no apron, naturally, and her dress was made of fine wool; her watch was a tiny fob watch, but once again her instinctive movements reminded me not of a Matron, but of a senior nurse. She must have only taken my pulse for a couple of minutes; it seemed very much longer to me. I noticed that for some of the time she was counting my respirations. At last she gently released my wrist. She stayed standing beside me. ‘Have you told Home Sister that you are feeling unwell, Nurse Fraser?’

  ‘I did say I thought I had a cold, Matron. Home Sister asked me to come and see her after I had seen you.’

  She nodded. ‘I see. In the circumstances, that will not be necessary. I will mention this to Home Sister.’ She touched a bell on her desk, then asked, ‘How long have you been feeling unwell as you do now, Nurse Fraser?’

  I had to hesitate. I was simply not sure of the answer. ‘It’s been coming on, Matron. First I thought it was just the cold water, then I thought it was because I hadn’t swum since the summer, and then I did not know what to think.’

  She smiled. ‘I understand, Nurse. Do not trouble to tell me any more.’

  The Night Assistant was at the door. Matron turned to her. ‘Nurse Stewart, would you kindly ask Casualty to send us a porter and a wheel-chair? I want Nurse Fraser to go straight to Nightingale.’ Her glance rested on me again. ‘I think you will be more comfortable there for tonight, Nurse.’

  I said, ‘Yes, Matron, thank you.’ There is nothing more you can say when a Matron gives an order, no matter how gently that order may be veiled.

  The porter, wheel-chair and a Staff Nurse arrived from Casualty. As I was wheeled out of the outer office I chanced to overhear something that made me wonder if I was not already in bed and dreaming all this. I heard the junior Assistant Night Sister say softly into the telephone, ‘Sam, can you get Sir Alder’s private number for Matron? Matron wants to talk to him about one of the nurses.’ Sam was the night porter on the switchboard. Sir Alder was Sir Alder Mostyn, the senior consultant physician on the hospital staff.

  Sir Alder came to see me that night. Before he arrived, the Senior Medical Officer to the hospital, Dr. Merriman, spent a long time with me. The senior night nurse in Nightingale was a Staff Nurse called Nurse Drew. She hardly left me that night, and on several occasions Night Sister was by my bed. As the night unfolded I seemed never to be alone; quiet-voiced people in white coats, grey dresses, blue dresses hovered above me. I felt too strange, too light-headed to know what was going on, or to pay much attention to what was being done for me. When someone asked me a question, I answered, then fell into a pleasantly vague state that was not quite sleep and yet certainly was not wakefulness.

  Once, it seemed to me to be very late, and I asked Nurse Drew, ‘What time is it, Nurse?’

  ‘Ten o’clock, my dear.’

  I gazed at her. ‘In the night? Is it still night?’

  She moved my hair away from my forehead. Her hands were gentle and very cool. ‘It’s still night. You’ll have a good sleep soon. Just close your eyes.’

  I did as she said, then opened them again immediately as I heard a soft rumbling and then a faint hissing noise. I recognised both. I asked her, ‘Is someone having oxygen in the next bed?’

  She shook her head. ‘You’ve got a small ward to yourself. We thought it would be more peaceful for you.’

  After that I lost all account of time. I think I must have slept throughout my first day in Nightingale. I remembered seeing Matron and Sister Nightingale standing by me a couple of times; they did not bother me with questions, and I was too sleepy to do more than smile and fall asleep again. I never saw one junior nurse at all during th
at period, and it was when that fact dawned on me that I realised I must be very ill. So I did not get the shock I might otherwise have had on the second evening when Matron came in to speak to me and told me she had brought two visitors to see me.

  ‘I know you will be pleased to hear that your parents happened to be making this trip to London, Nurse Fraser.’ She smiled charmingly, as if to say that there was nothing unusual about a very busy General Practitioner leaving his practice on a week-day for an excursion to town. ‘I will just ask Dr. and Mrs. Fraser to come in.’

  They did not stay long on their first visit. When they kissed me good night, I thought they must have left the hospital. Then, some while later, when Nurse Drew was on duty, I heard Dr. Merriman murmur to her in the corridor outside my door, ‘Is Dr. Fraser still here? I told Sir Alder he had arrived, and he is coming across to see him. I believe they were contemporaries.’

  Nurse Drew’s answer was far softer than a whisper, but I caught it clearly. ‘They are both in the duty-room. They are staying the night.’

  I was allowed no other visitors. I discovered that for myself by simply glancing at the door of my little ward when it was swung open too wildly on one occasion. I saw the large white notice with No Visitors in capital letters plainly.

  My mother must have spent the next day, as well as the night, in the hospital, because she sat with me a great deal, leaving the small ward only when Sir Alder or Dr. Merriman came to see me. Sir Alder was a large, stout, kindly man who looked exactly like a successful farmer. I had liked him from the first moment I saw him.

  Nurse Drew said that night, ‘Sir Alder is a great man in medicine, Fraser. We get so used to him here that we take him almost for granted. He’s one of the best ‒ if not the best ‒ chest physicians in the world.’

  ‘I suppose he is. And he was a Houseman at the same time as my father. It seems fantastic.’

  She arranged my pillows carefully. ‘Every Pundit has first to be a Houseman, just as every Matron has first to be a probationer. Haven’t you thought of it in that light?’

  I hadn’t. I thought about it now; and, as always, I applied my thoughts to Tom. There was a touch of Sir Alder about Tom; they were both utterly sincere and restful, and had a strength that was nothing to do with their physical build. I remembered how glad I had been to leave everything to Tom that morning he met me outside the Italian restaurant; and I remembered the other, less important occasions ‒ the lift and the bathroom flood ‒ when I had felt quite safe once Tom took over. I felt safe with Sir Alder. I knew he would make me well again.

  There was another girl ill in my corridor. She had been ill for some months, Nurse Drew told me. One morning I heard Sister Nightingale greet the great physician. ‘I am so relieved you’ve come early, sir. I’ve been so worried. I am glad you are here.’

  One day, I thought, as Nurse Drew vanished for hot milk, Ward Sisters will greet Tom that way. He has Sir Alder’s quality.

  When Nurse Drew came back with the milk she was smiling to herself. ‘You cannot imagine,’ she said in her quiet voice, ‘the trouble I am having shoo-ing the junior years from this corridor. Whenever I go outside I am seized upon and asked how you are. I think we must have had the whole of the first year up here in the past few days.’

  I coloured. I was incredibly touched. I had been feeling faintly hurt that none of the girls seemed to have inquired after me; it had not occurred to me that their messages had been forestalled. I guessed that until now Nurse Drew had thought me too ill to be bothered with these messages. I asked her to thank them for me.

  ‘Your little friend Nurse Sims, poor child, has come up here every night. She has been very good about not seeing you yet, and I have told her all I’m allowed to say about your condition. I suspect she is the official bulletin for your year.’ She watched me sip my milk. ‘Poor Tom Dillon has been another person who has had to possess his soul in patience. Sister Nightingale tells me she never looks up without seeing him in her duty-room doorway. Really, it’s just as well in every way that Sir Alder has made him his House Physician. Now poor Dr. Dillon will have more than enough work to do, and not have to spend his days on edge, waiting to hear the result of his Finals and waiting to hear how you are getting on.’

  I put the milk down on my locker carefully. ‘Tom Dillon, Nurse? Then he has qualified?’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you he is Sir Alder’s new House Physician? Of course he has qualified, my dear. And very well, too, to get that job. It’s a great compliment. Sir Alder picks his Housemen himself.’ She went away then, as if she felt I had done enough talking for the time being. Soon after, my mother came back for a few minutes, and when she left me I was settled for the night.

  I could not go to sleep. I lay feeling more restless than I had been on admission; I felt quite clear-headed and much better, and was suddenly filled with a longing to be up and back to work. Poor Nurse Drew was very disturbed with my not being able to get to sleep. She re-arranged my pillows, gave me more hot milk, then cocoa, then came and sat by me. ‘Are you awake?’ she said contentedly. ‘We won’t fight it any longer. Let’s have a chat I’m sure you love nattering. I know I do.’

  I was pleased and a little astonished. ‘I’d love it, Nurse ‒ but can you spare the time?’

  ‘Bless you, child! What do you think I’m here for? I’m here to look after you.’ She folded her hands in her lap. ‘And for your future information, let me tell you that having quiet little chats to patients who cannot get to sleep is just as much a night nurse’s job as turning down lights and fluffing pillows. It often helps people to sleep. Particularly when they’ve got something on their mind,’ she said slowly.

  Soon I found myself talking to her and telling her all kinds of things I would never have told a girl five years my senior had we just met as nurses. I began to appreciate how easy and pleasant it was to talk to a nurse who knew how to listen as well as nurse. I told her about the party, and how clever Jill had been with her cooking, and what a success Jill had made of that occasion. I did not go into the real details, naturally, but I must have said more than I intended, because she asked, ‘Why didn’t you enjoy that party? It sounds as if it was good fun.’

  I hesitated. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it, Nurse.’

  ‘I know you didn’t. But you didn’t. Did you?’

  I said, ‘No. Not really.’

  She did not ask any more questions. She talked instead about Mark and Tom. She seemed to know a great deal about them, and she talked of them as if she liked them. At last she stood up. ‘I hear Night Sister. I’ll just go and see her. I’ll be back.’

  She went out softly. She was away for a long time and I tried to go to sleep. I could not manage it at all. I lay and stared at the soft rose-coloured light that flooded my little ward at night, as the bedside lamp was covered with a red shade. I watched the pool of light around my bed and thought how un-rose-coloured life looked at this hour. Now I was better I realised that my illness was almost certainly going to make me drop a set. That meant that I would lose sight of Jill and the others, and have to make new friends in whichever set it was I joined. Sir Alder had talked about a long holiday. I might have to drop two sets, not one.

  I could not sleep, but I was very tired. I concentrated on thoughts of Thomas to keep my mind off my own future. Then I had to realise that now Tom was a Houseman I would not see him at all for years. Housemen do not mix with first year juniors.

  I closed my eyes, and because I was feeling so weak the tears rose behind my closed lids and began to pour down my cheeks. I lay and wept soundlessly and effortlessly as I had never wept before.

  The door opened softly. Luckily it was only Nurse Drew. She made no comment about finding me in tears. She said simply, ‘I think you need some more cocoa. You like that better than milk,’ and went out again tactfully.

  I was grateful for her respite. I scrubbed my face violently with my handkerchief. The door opened again and I assumed a smile. Then the smile dropp
ed from my face as I saw that Nurse Drew was not alone. She was standing by a man in a short white coat. A very large man in a very new white coat.

  Nurse Drew said evenly, ‘I’m sure you would like a word with Dr. Dillon while I’m making your cocoa, Nurse Fraser.’ She looked up at Tom. ‘Just a very short word,’ and she went out again.

  Tom did not even say one word at first. He came and stood by my bed and looked at me. And I looked at him and smiled properly. ‘Thomas, you’ve qualified! I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. I knew you would. And you’re Sir Alder’s Houseman?’

  He nodded.

  I was beaming now. ‘I think it’s the best news I’ve had for weeks. I expect Jill is frightfully pleased, too? Mark will be,’ I rattled on, ‘and all your friends. Do tell Jill how pleased I am, and give her my love when you next see her, won’t you, Thomas?’

  He said very slowly, ‘Sue, you oughtn’t to talk so much. I’m glad you’re pleased. It’s nice of you to say so. Yes, I’ll tell Jill. Now, I want to know about you. Why aren’t you asleep?’

  I felt absurdly hurt. ‘Are you here officially? I mean, as Sir Alder’s H.P.?’

  ‘I was doing a round in Nightingale.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Odd though that sounds. And Nurse Drew asked me to look in. She said you were having a bad night.’

  I knew it was ridiculous for me to feel as I did. Of course this was not a social call at this hour of the night. I pulled myself together. ‘I just can’t sleep. I don’t know why not.’

  He folded his arms and leant against the wall. ‘I think you’ll go to sleep soon. I’ll give you some good news to think about while you’re dropping off. Mark rang me yesterday and I told him how ill you had been. He was very shaken. He is coming back tomorrow. I know he will want to see you. You will like that, won’t you?’

  I closed my eyes once more. ‘Yes. That will be very nice. Thank you for telling me.’ I opened my eyes and saw he was gazing at me with the oddest expression on his face. I had never seen him wear that expression before; then his face changed and I wondered if weakness was making me imagine things. I must have been staring at him in an extraordinary fashion myself, because he moved away from the wall and came nearer to me.