He said quietly, ‘Sue, there are a lot of questions I want to ask you. I’m glad Mark’s coming back, because there are a lot of questions I want to ask him, too.’
I smiled weakly. ‘You sound very curious, Thomas. Or I suppose I call you Dr. Dillon now?’
‘I’d rather we left it as Thomas, unofficially.’ He smiled. ‘This all makes quite a difference, Sue.’
I remembered the thoughts I had had before he came in. ‘Yes, it does.’ My voice sounded flat, and I felt flat.
‘I took Jill out to supper last night,’ he said abruptly. ‘I simply had to talk to her. I’m glad I did.’
‘That must have been nice for you both.’
He nodded. ‘I hope so.’
There seemed nothing else to be said. I had been longing to see him, but now he was here I was longing for Nurse Drew to return with my cocoa.
‘You’re almost asleep.’ He walked to the door. ‘I think that cocoa will do the trick. You go to sleep, Sue, and get strong again, and then everything will be back to normal. We’ll have another party. We ‒ that is, Jill and I ‒ were planning it last night. We want you and Mark to come. It’ll be a celebration party, I think.’
My heart seemed to turn over. ‘Who is going to be celebrating what? Don’t just stand there looking all high-powered and enigmatical,’ I added in a burst of energy. ‘Tell me what you are talking about.’
He smiled. ‘You sound more like yourself. I can’t tell you precisely what I’m talking about until I see Mark. I have to see him first. And don’t ask me why, my dear girl, because I am not going to let you talk any more tonight. Just close your eyes and go to sleep. This is the doctor talking.’
‘You mustn’t call patients “your dear girl” now you are a physician. You must say, “my dear”, like Sir Alder. I know.’ I tapped my chest. ‘I’m his patient.’
He did not smile again. He said almost reluctantly, ‘Yes. You are. Which means another hold-up,’ he murmured as if to himself.
‘Hold-up?’ I queried.
He took his time. ‘Well, we can’t have that party until you’re well again, can we?’ He went out before I could ask him anything else, and before I had time to thank him for coming. He did not even say good night.
Tom came to see me daily after that night. Sometimes he would look in directly after lunch; more often it was in the evening when Nurse Drew was on duty. He seldom stayed more than a few minutes; he seldom talked very much. He would fold his arms, lean against the wall or the door as if he had all the time in the world at his disposal and was not a hard-working House Physician who, according to Nurse Drew, was on the go all day and half of every night.
One evening, a few days later, Tom was ushered in by Sister Nightingale as I was finishing my supper. When Sister went out of my ward, she removed the No Visitors notice from the door, tucked it under her arm, and favoured us with a pleased little smile. ‘A definite improvement, Nurse. Splendid.’
Tom smiled politely, then turned to me as she closed the door. ‘How are you feeling, Sue?’
‘Fine, thank you.’ There was something different about him and I had just realised what that was. ‘What has happened to your white coat, Thomas? Have you given up medicine?’
‘Not just yet. It’s my half-day.’
‘But you were wearing your white coat when you went by my door half an hour ago?’
He grinned. ‘My half-day hadn’t started then. It has been going on for the last ten minutes, which is fairly good going, so the other chaps tell me. More often than not our half-days start at supper-time.’ He glanced at the locker seat ‘May I sit down?’
‘Do. I didn’t suggest it, as you never sit down when you call on me.’
He raised one eyebrow. ‘This is the first social call I have been free to make. The other visits were semi-professional. As you know, no one on duty can sit down in front of a patient.’
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation, yet it made me feel very depressed. I wished he had not reminded me that he had come to see me because it was his job to come and see me. I said formally, ‘It’s very kind of you to give up some of your free time to a sort of busman’s holiday. You really didn’t have to bother.’
He looked at me before answering in a tone that was as formal as my own. ‘I’m aware of that. I came ‒ for various reasons that aren’t specifically important. But there is one thing that is important, and that’s a question I want to ask you.’
‘Everyone asks me questions these days. What’s yours?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me exactly what had happened that day I met you in the docks? I thought you had got yourself in some jam. I never guessed the truth.’
I met his eyes; despite his tone, his eyes were nice eyes to meet. They were friendly and kind. I stopped feeling formal. Thomas always had that effect on me. ‘You didn’t give me a chance to say much. You said there would be time to explain everything later. Now is that time ‒ only you no longer need any explanations from me, as you know all the answers for yourself.’
‘I can’t say I agree with you about that,’ he answered. ‘All the same, I wish I had known at the time. And I wish even more that you had stayed put, as I asked. Mrs. Jenkins was very upset when she got back and found you had gone. Stephen Illingworth’s presence did not precisely improve matters.’
‘Did you manage to persuade that extraordinary young man that Mark really was away? It was so strange. He didn’t seem to believe me.’
‘I persuaded him,’ he said, so grimly that I felt quite sorry for Stephen Illingworth.
‘Did he get through his Finals, too?’
He shook his head. ‘He was ploughed, poor chap.’
‘That’s bad luck. Was it a blow to him? He seemed fairly certain of his passing, according to his cousin.’
He hesitated. ‘Yes. He has taken it hard, which isn’t surprising. It’s rough, being ploughed. Doubly rough if you kid yourself you’ve got it taped. Kidding oneself is invariably a mistake,’ he added sombrely.
I turned to look at him. I moved too quickly, and the movement made me cough, and prevented my asking what he meant by that last remark. I was coughing far less that day; but once I started, I still had difficulty in stopping. He stood up and handed me a drink swiftly. ‘Have this. It will help. That’s it.’ He heaped the pillows behind my shoulders exactly as Nurse Drew would have done. ‘There! How’s that?’ He smiled at me with his lips and watched me carefully with his eyes. His eyes reminded me very much of Sir Alder’s at that moment. When my spasm of coughing had passed, he asked quietly, ‘Sue, please be honest. Am I tiring you? Would you rather I went and came back another day? Or would you like me to sit with you for a while ‒ or call one of the nurses?’
I was too exhausted to pretend. ‘Can you stay?’
‘As long as you like,’ he replied politely. ‘I told you I was free.’ He sat down again, stretched out his long legs, and frowned. ‘I expect you get a shade lonely now your mother has gone back to your home,’ he said. ‘You’ll feel more cheerful tomorrow when your friends are allowed to visit you. Sister Nightingale said she thought one visitor would be enough for you today. I knew Mark couldn’t look in as he is working in the Theatre tonight, so I thought I’d come up. I hope you don’t mind?’
‘No.’ I had not the breath to say more.
He glanced at me, then folded his arms and leaned against the locker as if he was taking root for life. He made no comment on my monosyllable; he gave me a small smile and stared thoughtfully into space.
It was wonderfully peaceful in the small ward; the peace was soothing, and there was no strain about it. I lay and watched him openly, since he was not looking my way at all. I noticed how much neater his brown hair had suddenly become since he had qualified, and I thought what a pleasant person he was to have around when you felt ill. I decided that was partly due to his naturally quiet temperament, which allowed him to remain silent without seeming rude or bored; and partly due to his undemanding nat
ure. So many people ‒ often very nice people ‒ could exhaust you, even when you were well; they seemed to draw all the energy from you, leaving you mentally drained. Mark was one of those people, and I was not at all anxious to see him, despite Tom’s obvious views on the subject. Tom had the reverse effect on me. He gave, as opposed to taking. And as I watched him and felt myself growing calmer with each passing minute, I could not help pretending that he was not just here out of kindness, but because he wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to have him with me.
He stayed by me for about half an hour, and neither of us said one word. Eventually he stood up slowly, like a man waking from a dream. ‘I’d better push off, Sue. If not, Sister Nightingale will say I’m over-tiring you.’
I smiled. ‘You haven’t done that.’ But as I did not like him to waste any more of his precious free time, I added, ‘Perhaps you had better go. Thank you for coming.’
Jill was allowed to see me next day. She came in looking slightly scared and perched herself on the edge of my locker seat. ‘Sue dear, how are you?’ I was delighted to see her and to hear all the quiet news she gave me about the girls and the hospital, yet I was really relieved when Sister said it was time for her to go. Jill had only spent a third of the time Tom had stayed last evening, but I felt worn out. The next day, Sally and Agatha spent a few minutes with me. After tea, Sister allowed Mark to come in for ten minutes. They were all kind and thoughtful, but once again I was relieved when they left me alone. Relieved and ashamed at the same time; I felt so ungrateful for all their kindness and very annoyed with my own weakness. Yet when Tom looked in for what he called his semi-professional visit that evening, and took his usual stance against the wall and hardly spoke to me, he left me feeling refreshed and stronger.
Nurse Drew was a very observant young woman. ‘I’m glad Tom Dillon is on the medical side,’ she remarked casually that night. ‘He’s got the right approach with you and the other patients. He uses his will on patients. I’ve noticed it several times already. He just stands there and wills people to get better. That’s a great attribute for any doctor or nurse, as so often we have to do the fighting for the patients who are too weak to fight for themselves.’
By the end of that week I began to feel much stronger, and when Jill came to see me again I greeted her warmly. ‘Come and sit down, love! I am pleased to see you. I’m longing for a good gossip. I think I’m cured! Sir Alder thinks so, too. He told me this morning that I can get up in a couple of days and perhaps go home at the end of next week.’
‘Sue, I am glad. You look much better. How long are you going to have at home?’ she added carefully.
I realised why she was being careful and smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s all right. I’m not going to have to drop a set. I’m only having four weeks at home. Sister Tutor came up to see me this morning. She says Matron has asked her to give me extra tuition when I get back to make up for the lectures I’ve missed. Won’t that be fun! Can’t you just see Sister Tutor and me having jolly little sessions together? They’re going to be grim ‒ but I’m so thrilled at not having to start afresh in a new set that I’d almost welcome sessions with Matron herself!’
She was delighted for me. ‘We’ve all been worrying about your having to drop behind. It was going to be horrid, going on without you. We’d have had no one to make us laugh ‒ or give us grey hairs! And you’ve certainly given us grey hairs over this. Thomas said it was a wonder he, Mark and I were not snow-white.’
‘When did he say that?’ I tried not to sound too interested.
‘One evening ‒ one nightmarish evening ‒ your second night in. The news that your parents had been sent for and were here had flashed round the hospital, and the whole staff was plunged in gloom.’
‘Not really, Jill?’
‘Really, Sue. You see, the trouble about everyone here is that we all know too much about illness, and we all knew what a bad sign that was. Just as we knew that the fact that you were being nursed exclusively by Sisters and Staff Nurses was bad, too. We couldn’t pretend it was just hospital routine. Matron doesn’t visit Nightingale half a dozen times a day as routine. Nor do they put members of the staff on the D.I.L. without good reason.’ She shook her head soberly. ‘It was quite an experience. It shook me in lots of ways. I was just staggered at the way in which the whole staff reacted.’
‘About me? A junior?’ I was very touched and could not help being intrigued.
‘Yes. It shook our set, too. Naturally, since you belong to us, we took your illness to heart. We never expected the rest of the hospital to do that, too. Thomas said it was because in any crisis the hospital staff turns into a vast family ‒ and he was absolutely right. The oddest people, like Sister Catherine, Dexter, Sister Joseph and senior pros by the score whose names I still don’t know, kept stopping me in the corridors to ask after you and say how sorry they were you were ill. They made me want to weep. One evening I did weep,’ she said frankly. ‘All over Thomas in the basement corridor. So he took me out to supper. He hadn’t heard his results then.’
‘I’m glad he did that,’ I said sincerely. ‘And I’m glad he was handy when you wept. Poor Jill!’
She glanced at me. ‘He’s good at being handy at the right moment. And at coping with things and people. He coped wonderfully that evening. He insisted on my eating a super meal and kept me talking all the time. He hardly ate a thing himself. He was pretty upset about you, Sue.’
‘I expect he was upset about both of us. He’s kind. Mark, too. They’re a nice pair.’
‘Yes.’ She studied her hands. ‘I suppose Mark comes up to see you regularly.’
‘Most days.’
‘And Thomas?’ she insisted.
‘In the evenings. He doesn’t stay long. It’s hardly a visit. He has really only made one social call.’
‘He can hardly do more as he’s Sir Alder’s Houseman. Even though Housemen don’t technically treat sick staff, as he is on the medical side indirectly you are his patient. He can’t pay many social calls on patients. In fact, I’m surprised he was able to pay even one.’
I said slowly, ‘I never realised that.’
She smiled slightly. ‘There are probably quite a few things you haven’t realised. If you hadn’t been so busy helping Mark with his crazy matchmaking scheme you might not have been so dumb. You aren’t naturally dumb; but you just haven’t been able to see the wood for the trees.’
I stared at her. ‘Jill, what are you talking about? Did you guess ‒ about Mark and me?’
‘It wasn’t very hard. As Thomas said, you two all but bought the ring for us. As if Thomas wasn’t quite capable of buying his own ring ‒ any time.’
I chose my words with care. ‘Are you and Thomas on those sort of terms?’
‘If you mean have we discussed this openly ‒ yes, we have. We have discussed most things. In fact,’ she said steadily, ‘this illness of yours may not be exactly an ill wind. I think it may blow some good.’
‘To you and Tom?’ I had to ask.
She did not answer me directly. ‘To all of us. It has given us all a jolt; made us see things more clearly, and behave more naturally. People like you and Mark are good at hiding your feelings behind crazy behaviour and laughter; and people like Tom and me hide behind our shyness. It may be civilised to pretend to feel less than you do, it may also be dangerous. A pose can become a habit ‒ and be very hard to drop.’
I quite understood what lay behind her words; and I was glad that my illness seemed to have served some purpose after all. It had obviously brought her and Tom together. I smiled a little wearily. ‘So you think a touch of pneumonia is the way to solve all life’s little problems?’
‘Not exactly. I only meant that through your suddenly getting so ill, all kinds of masks dropped off in the shock. Can you see me ‒ in normal circumstances ‒ weeping on any man’s shoulder in the hospital basement? Could you, even a month ago, have imagined that one day Tom and I would have talked quite openly about
all your matrimonial plans for us? The jolt we had cracked our defences. It has made everything clearer, Sue.’
Chapter Nine
My remaining days dragged interminably, despite the ever-increasing stream of visitors who ranged from Teddy’s grandpa to Elsie, the ward maid in Catherine. On my last evening in Nightingale, Tom shook my hand and said goodbye far more formally than Sir Alder had done that morning. Sir Alder had slapped my shoulder, warned me to get some colour in my cheeks before I showed my face at his follow-up clinic, and sent his regards to my parents.
I had a pleasant time at home. My mother indulged me so much that my father warned her I would turn into a ‘pampered brat’. I loved being at home, but all the time I was aching to get back to the hospital. I missed Thomas more than I had ever missed anyone in my life. There were moments when I felt hollow with misery; moments when the future looked quite black and the present an empty grey.
I did my best to hide this from my parents; I felt they had had enough anxiety about me. I was not sure that I was successful in this. More than once I caught my mother looking at me anxiously, and I knew my father was concerned because I seemed so much quieter about the house.
I heard from Jill frequently. She was a splendid correspondent; she gave me news of our set; she often mentioned Tom; only occasionally did she admit to seeing Mark. Every time I saw her handwriting on an envelope I was certain that this would be the letter announcing her engagement, but that letter never came. I grew more and more puzzled, and foolishly allowed my hopes to rise again. Then I squashed them firmly. Of course, as Tom and Jill were prudent people they were not going to announce anything until they were within sight of getting married. I knew they would have to wait at least a year as Tom had to serve that year as a Houseman.
The Fair Wind: A moving 1950s hospital romance (The Anniversary Collection Book 6) Page 13
