Kit Cavendish-Private Nurse

by Margaret Malcolm

  “Well, you did give us all a very bad shock,” Mrs. Baylis reminded him. “But I won’t worry now that Nurse is here to keep you in order. And now I’ll go down and have a word with Victor while you two get to know each other!”

  She walked to the door with a sort of deliberate grace that suggested it had been carefully cultivated. Mr. Baylis’s eyes followed her affectionately.

  “A wonderful woman, my wife,” he remarked when she had gone. “You know, Nurse, she was my secretary for years and quite invaluable. One day it occurred to me that we were both lonely people, and to my delight, she agreed to marry me. In many ways her life had been a hard one, and it gave me a tremendous pleasure to see that from then on, it was much easier. Yet when this trouble came, she got into harness again and has, in fact, taken on all my work. You can understand how that eased my mind and how it has contributed to my recovery.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Kit said sympathetically.

  “There was no one else you see,” Mr. Baylis went on, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Noel is a dear boy, but he is too young for responsibility, and enjoying life too much to want to settle down yet. But he will. He will.”

  “Noel?” Kit asked tentatively.

  “My son ... by my first marriage,” her patient explained. “We had expected him home from Switzerland today—winter sports, you know—but at the last moment he telephoned to say that he was dining with friends and wouldn’t be in until later.” He paused for a moment and then returned to his earlier remarks.

  “I don’t know if you realized it, Nurse, but I was quite serious when I said you would have to persuade my wife not to worry so much. It seems quite impossible to convince her that I’m much better and it’s quite safe for me to be reasonably active. But of course, you will be discussing it all with Dr. Grainger when he comes tomorrow. And later, no doubt, with the consultant he called in.”

  So a consultant was still in charge. That suggested Mrs. Baylis might be right, but she kept this reflection to herself. Fortunately, the mention of the consultant started a fresh train of thought in her patient’s mind.

  “Let me see, Wrinch said you trained at St. Magnus’s. Is that right?”

  “I certainly did train there,” Kit admitted.

  “That’s interesting. Very interesting indeed. So did this cardiac man. We have a splendid hospital at Minsterbury now, you know. It’s grown with the times, and Heathfield is a part-time consultant there. I wonder if you know him?”

  “I did know someone named Heathfield at St. Magnus’s,” Kit said in a voice she hardly recognized as her own. “But of course it may not be the same man.”

  “Easy enough to make sure,” Mr. Baylis assured her. “This man’s first name is Jason.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kit gripped the arms of her chair as the room swung about her.

  Within a few days she would be face to face with Jason.

  For a moment her heart betrayed her. Then the brutal truth assailed her.

  Yes, she would see him—but he would not be the Jason she had loved. He would be a stranger—no, not that. They would meet as two people who had shared a past both would sooner forget. But that was not possible. There were some things that left indelible marks.

  She could not meet Jason! It was out of the question. She must leave at once...

  Then the habit of self-control in an emergency, acquired with such pains during the years of her training, came to her rescue.

  “Yes, it must be the same man. What an extraordinary coincidence!”

  “They do happen, you know,” Mr. Baylis replied, apparently oblivious to the effect his announcement had produced. “Far more often than most people realize.” He went on to recount one particular experience of his own.

  By the time the rather long anecdote was finished, Kit was in complete control of herself.

  On the whole, the evening was not too difficult. A service elevator had been adapted to hold Mr. Baylis’s wheelchair and he was able to dine downstairs, although Kit was to find that his other meals were served in the sitting room adjoining his bedroom.

  To her relief, Victor had not been asked to stay to dinner, so although Mr. Baylis spoke of Kit’s former contact with Jason, at least Victor’s shrewd mind was not there to put two and two together. She could reasonably hope that by the time he heard of the coincidence, if indeed he did at all, the Baylis family would take it so much for granted that even he would not attribute any importance to it. She felt all the more hopeful because it was clear that Mrs. Baylis certainly did not.

  “Oh? How interesting,” she said in a tone that suggested she found it quite the reverse. “Of course, a big training hospital like St. Magnus’s—this sort of thing is bound to happen frequently, I would imagine.” She paused and seemed to consider. “Dr. Heathfield was not a consultant then?”

  “No,” Kit said equably. “It was some time ago—in my first years. Dr. Heathfield was an assistant to the S.M.O.”

  “S.M.O.?” Mrs. Baylis repeated uncomprehendingly.

  “The Senior Medical Officer—Sir Edgar Blount, in those days. One of the most famous cardiologists,” Kit explained.

  Mrs. Baylis nodded in a bored way, and the subject was dropped—rather to Mr. Baylis’s disappointment, it appeared, for later on, when he was settled in bed for the night, he returned to it.

  “How old is Heathfield?” he asked.

  “Oh—two or three years short of forty, I suppose,” Kit said casually. As if she didn’t know exactly how old Jason was to the very day!

  “Pretty young to have reached his present eminence, isn’t he?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Kit said guardedly. “Dr. Heathfield was Sir Edgar’s most promising man.”

  And that was very true. Jason put everything into his work ... too much, perhaps. That might be why he had no place in his life for anything—or anyone—else.

  She thought of this again as she sat in the comfortable chair beside her bed. Then slowly, but quite deliberately, she walked over to the writing desk and opened one of the drawers. She took out a Moroccan leather writing case bearing her initials in silver in one corner—the only present Jason had ever given her.

  Going back to her chair, she opened the case and took out a single folded sheet of notepaper from one of the pockets. It was the last letter she had received from Jason, and as she read it, she flinched.

  Dear Kit,

  I think, when two people have been as much to one another as you and I have been, the least one can do if a change of feeling comes is to be perfectly honest about it.

  Since this has happened I would prefer that we make a clean break rather than let things peter out miserably. That being so, you will appreciate my reasons for not seeking your company from now on.

  The best of luck to you,

  Jason.

  As Kit put the letter away with hands that trembled a little, she recalled her reply. It had been very brief.

  Dear Jason,

  Yes, in the circumstances, I think you are quite right.

  All good wishes for the future,

  Kit.

  With a sigh she decided, as she had decided many times before, that there was really nothing else she could have written. A woman with any shred of pride does not beg a man to reconsider his decision when he has stated it so bluntly, particularly when she knows that it could not have been easy for him to write like that.

  For Jason was one of the kindest people she had ever met. More than once, in her early days, he had saved her from making a complete fool of herself in the wards. In fact, he had taken her under his wing, and to everyone’s astonishment and even to the annoyance of some of the second-and third-year nurses who regarded him as their natural prey, it had become clear that his interest in her went beyond mere friendship, insignificant student nurse though she was.

  She had never been so happy in her life, and she’d thought Jason felt the same. He had not exactly asked her to marry him, but that hadn’t wo
rried her, partly because life was so good, anyway, and partly because he had been perfectly frank about it. He believed that a man ought to get properly settled in life and be in command of a reasonable income before he married.

  “A change of feeling,” he had written. But only a week before, they had been making plans to spend a weekend in Dorset with her family, and he had seemed perfectly happy about the idea. It could be that later he realized he was committing himself fairly deeply and decided he didn’t want to. Yes, but even then, what had been his motive? Ambition? The realization that she did not mean as much to him as he had thought? And if that, because he had met someone who meant more?

  She never found out. Now, in all probability, she would have an answer to the last question, at any rate. If Jason was married...

  She found herself hoping that was the case. It would put a stop to all her questioning and would draw a heavy line beneath the whole incident. Finished—all in the past. Nothing to be done about it. Yes, that would be best.

  Dr. Grainger called the next day. He was a stranger to Kit, although he had practised in Ravenslea for some years. She took to him on sight. He was a man of about fifty, but with his lean, well-preserved physique looked less. He had a pleasant, friendly manner, but Kit felt sure that his alert eyes missed little, and that he set high standards both for himself and those he worked with.

  He requested to have a talk alone with Kit before seeing his patient, and the interview took place in the study. Kit answered his questions frankly and unhesitatingly, and Dr. Grainger nodded, well satisfied.

  “I’m lucky to have a St. Magnus’s nurse to work with,” he remarked. “I’m going to be quite frank with you, Nurse. But first I’ll give you the case history. Mr. Baylis has a coronary thrombosis. He collapsed at the beginning of November and fractured his left tibia. It was a simple fracture, which in normal circumstances would have presented no complications. The ruling factor, however, has of course been the heart condition. That means rest. The fractured leg, on the other hand, demands activity. On no account must Mr. Baylis be allowed to become bedridden—or even chair-ridden. That means that both Mr. and Mrs. Baylis are right and wrong in the view they hold. The difficulty is to find a compromise they will both accept, one that at the same time will satisfy Heathfield and myself. And that is going to be all the more tricky because Mr. Baylis has admitted that this is not his first attack. He had one when he was away from home some six months ago. He kept quiet about it, simply taking life easy for a bit. Then, as there was no repetition, he convinced himself he had nothing to worry about. On the other hand, Mrs. Baylis is not unnaturally alarmed because of her husband’s earlier reticence.”

  “Yes, of course,” Kit agreed gravely.

  “Well, that’s how things are,” Dr. Grainger went on. “It’s a pity Mr. Baylis wasn’t willing to stay on in the hospital where it would have been simple to see to it that he toed the line and that there was no outside interference. But he preferred to come home and really it was not feasible to object. In any case, when Dr. Heathfield insisted on a qualified nurse being engaged, his decision was accepted unhesitatingly. But we are dealing with two exceptionally strong-willed people, and of the two, I would say that Mrs. Baylis is the more dominant personality.” He looked inquiringly at Kit.

  “I’ve hardly been here long enough...” Kit said discreetly, although privately she agreed with the doctor.

  “No?” He smiled faintly. “Well, that is my reading of the situation and, I may say, of Heathfield’s as well. Now, you understand, Nurse, that of course there must be no interference in the prescribed treatment and naturally you will be given explicit instructions. Nonetheless, I’m afraid you will not always find it easy to do your job, particularly as you must carry out your orders with as little friction as possible for the sake of the patient. You understand?”

  “Yes, I do,” Kit said seriously, frowning in perplexity.

  “Something on your mind?” Dr. Grainger asked kindly. “Out with it!”

  “It’s just this,” Kit explained. “I’m not a stranger to Ravenslea, you know. I used to live here. And it is, so I’ve learned since I arrived, no coincidence that I was called in on this case.”

  “No?”

  “No. You see, although I have never met Mr. and Mrs. Baylis before, I used to know Mr. Wrinch quite well. He is responsible for my being here.”

  “Wrinch?” Dr. Grainger repeated. “Wrinch? Oh, the accountant chap. Now what’s at the back of that, I’d like to know? Anything personal?”

  “Perhaps,” Kit admitted, coloring. “But the point is, I’ve never before agreed to nurse anyone where relationship or friendship is concerned.”

  “Quite right,” the doctor agreed briskly. “They always expect concessions, and when you don’t give them, there’s trouble.”

  “Mr. Wrinch knows nothing at all of my capabilities as a nurse,” Kit said quietly. “In the past four years we’ve been completely out of touch with one another.”

  “Hm.” Dr. Grainger rubbed his hand thoughtfully over his chin. “Well, I shall pass that particular buck to Heathfield! He’ll be here tomorrow.”

  Ignoring the fact that her heart surely missed a beat, Kit looked him straight in the face.

  “Dr. Heathfield knows something more of me ... as a nurse,” she said steadily. “He was at St. Magnus’s during my first two years.”

  “Good, that should help,” Dr. Grainger said cheerfully. “And now let’s go and see our patient, shall we?”

  Kit’s first glimpse of Jason was from the window of Mr. Baylis’s room so she had a few precious moments in which to overcome the involuntary tension that seeing him again produced.

  “Dr. Heathfield has just arrived,” she was able to tell Mr. Baylis quite naturally. “And Dr. Grainger’s car is just coming up the drive. I’ll go down and meet them.”

  It was, of course, the proper thing to do, but by the time she was halfway down the stairs, not only were the two men already in the hall, but Mrs. Baylis, who unknown to Kit had evidently stayed at home that day, was just coming out of the study to greet them. Kit had no idea whether Mrs. Baylis noticed her or not, but certainly she ignored her as she graciously shook hands first with Jason and then with the older doctor.

  “I’ll take you up to my husband,” she announced.

  Dr. Grainger made no comment, though the corner of his mouth twisted very slightly. Clearly he was leaving the next move to Jason, who met the challenge with complete imperturbability.

  “No need to do that, Mrs. Baylis,” he told her, his manner subtly suggesting that his sole wish was to save her trouble. “The nurse is here, I see. She will take us up.”

  He turned to Kit and smiled, but it was a smile that went no farther than his lips.

  “Nurse Cavendish,” he greeted her formally. “I’m delighted to know that a St. Magnus graduate is to look after my patient.” Kit murmured a few words of thanks, but as she turned to lead the way upstairs her heart felt like a stone. She told herself that this was most certainly not the moment to make any reference to past friendship. They were both on duty, and in addition, Mrs. Baylis was listening attentively to every word that passed between them. Even from the little Kit knew of her, it was not difficult to imagine how she would have reacted to any suspicion of a bond between her husband’s consultant and his nurse.

  And yet ... and yet ... Kit knew that he did not relish the situation. He had accepted her presence, and he had made it clear that though Dr. Grainger had evidently told him of Victor’s maneuver, he nonetheless had confidence in her integrity as a nurse. But that he heartily wished it had been anyone but herself who had come to Moneyhill, Kit was quite certain. And in the circumstances, that was not surprising.

  Kit had always appreciated the necessity of the rigorous discipline that was a St. Magnus tradition. Now she was thankful for it. It enabled her to put everything else out of her mind and give her undivided attention to her professional duty. Even when, making his examinat
ion of Mr. Baylis, Jason’s hand accidentally touched hers, Kit barely noticed the fact. She was Nurse Cavendish, on duty, not Kit, the girl who had been so deeply in love with the man standing so near to her.

  Something else helped her. Jason, when he had been at the hospital, had been confidently considered as a man with a brilliant future. Even if, at that time, that future had not meant so much to her, she would have been intrigued to discover whether that promise had been fulfilled. That he should have obtained his current eminence in so comparatively short a time more than suggested it, but Kit knew by experience that a first-class consultant needs more than knowledge of his subject, however profound. He must also have the ability of welding those he is working with into a team, of which he is the undoubted leader, but a team he can rely on. Only so can the best results be obtained, particularly because in no other way can the patient’s confidence be given to those caring for him.

  That Jason had that ability became abundantly clear as the consultation progressed. Kit felt the exultation that comes from the knowledge that, comparatively small though one’s share may be, it is still an integral part of the whole and appreciated as such by those one works with. The knowledge put her on her toes. Jason became not the man she had loved but a man with whom it was an honor to work. She simply could not let him down. “Well?” Mr. Baylis asked at last. “Are you satisfied?”

  “So far, yes,” Jason told him unhesitatingly. “But you have a long way to go yet, Mr. Baylis, before I’ll be completely satisfied.”

  “Oh dear!” Mr. Baylis grimaced expressively.

  “I know,” Jason said sympathetically. “To a man like yourself whose work is of absorbing interest it must be a grueling experience to have to stand aside from it all for a time...”