The Time is Now

by Gill Sanderson

  ‘Is he married, and if not why not?’

  ‘No, he's not married. He says he doesn't want to be. He's only interested in a casual relationship — he's very up front about it. Tells you right from the start.’

  ‘So that's what he told you right from the start?’

  ‘I guess so.’ Ann sighed. ‘And I'm not the only one.’

  ‘He sounds a real louse.’

  ‘No, he's not! He was fair. He told me not to … not to get too fond of him, but I did. If I got into trouble then it was entirely my own fault.’

  ‘I'll bet it was. I've heard this "I only want a casual relationship" thing before. Now, tell me about work …’

  They exchanged a few other details and then rang off.

  ‘That was Ann Deeds. How is she doing?’ Sue asked. She had worked with Ann before.

  ‘Seems to be all right,’ Jane said thoughtfully. ‘We're getting a new anaesthetist, and Ann has worked with him. Apparently he's a bit of a lady-killer.’

  ‘You'll cope,’ Megan said. ‘You always do. Lord help the lady-killer who tries anything on with you.’

  Jane shook her head. ‘Coping isn't enough. In Theatre you have to work as a team, know each other's feelings so nothing need be said. When we had Judy Parsons we were a real team, but this latest fellow Lane has been a disaster. Mr Steadman really dislikes him, and he's entitled to. I just want someone who can fit in.’

  ‘Like I said, you'll cope. Come on, the party's over now — let's clear away.’

  The one golden rule in their shared house was that everything had to be washed and cleared away at once. Sue was working later. Jane was going out and for once had managed to persuade Megan to come with her. Megan seldom went out.

  Party time! Jane undid her French plait and shook it out. People at work who had only ever seen her with her hair up were sometimes amazed to see that when loose it was waist-length. She had a shower, combed out her hair, blow-dried it, and fastened it back with two tortoiseshell clips. Then she put on a white T-shirt and a dark red, floaty skirt split up to the thigh. If she was going to dance, she wanted to feel untrammelled. A quick touch of make-up, a look at herself in the mirror, and she had to admit that she didn't look bad.

  ‘You look wonderful,’ Megan said when she got downstairs. ‘You look as if you're going to enjoy yourself.’

  ‘I am going to enjoy myself,’ Jane said with resolution.

  They took a taxi together to the clubhouse on the outskirts of town where Jane played hockey for the university. It was an ancient, rickety, wooden building, but she'd had some good times there. Nearly every Saturday she played on the pitch nearby if no emergency work had come up, and there was always a bit of a party after the match. She'd arranged to be picked up by taxi as this was mid-week and she knew that most people wouldn't want to stay too late.

  Holding the hesitant Megan firmly by the hand, she entered the building. The little bar was decked with streamers – the same ones came out for Christmas and any other function. But the place looked cheerful. There was music already, and a couple were circling the tiny dance-floor. They had a resident DJ, an electronics student who was the only person who dared to touch the antiquated equipment.

  Technically Jane had hired the clubhouse, though it hadn't cost her much. She'd ordered sausage rolls, sandwiches and so on from the catering manager, and had invited friends from the hospital and the hockey team. Basically this was just an excuse to see friends and dance.

  There was a great cheer as she walked in, and everyone sang 'Happy Birthday to You'. She was kissed by more men – and women – than she could count. She accepted the first drink she was offered, and after that resolutely refused all further alcohol. It was an amiable, noisy party, just the sort she enjoyed. She danced, she talked, she laughed. It was a good night.

  After a while a few newcomers came to her party, mostly hospital people who'd just finished a shift. She was surprised to see Edmund Steadman among them. She had invited him, of course, but hadn't expected him to turn up. He was dressed casually in a black shirt over blue jeans. Another surprise – she'd never seen him out of formal clothes before.

  ‘Edmund, it's so lovely of you to come! Let me get you a drink.’

  ‘Let me get you one. You're the birthday girl.’

  ‘I've had plenty already, Edmund,’ she whispered. ‘You know me, nothing to excess. But you can dance with me if you like.’

  ‘I would like that indeed.’

  ‘And now we're playing a golden oldie,’ boomed the DJ at that moment. ‘Partly in recognition of the vast age of our beloved Jane, partly because all we have left are Beatles numbers. Ladies and gentlemen, “Love me Do".’

  To her amazement, Edmund Steadman was an excellent dancer. He whirled her round so that her skirt billowed round her waist, then caught her, lifted her off her feet, steered her in the most complex of moves. He was marvellous!

  ‘Edmund, you're a fantastic dancer!’ she said breathlessly as they walked back to the bar. ‘Where did you learn to move like that?’

  ‘Even I was young once,’ he said solemnly, ‘and, as I calculate, it was in the sixties. Now, I have a present for you.' He took out a small wooden box, with oriental script on the outside. 'You remember I did a tour of the Far East a few months ago — Singapore, Hong Kong and so on — a bit of lecturing, a few operations. Well, I brought back a few trinkets. I'd like you to have this. And before you say anything, Marion knows I'm giving it to you, and she thoroughly approves and sends her best wishes. She would have liked to come, but you know …’

  Jane had met Marion several times before and the two women got on well. Marion Steadman was quiet and retiring, just the opposite of her ebullient husband. Unfortunately she suffered from severe arthritis, for which there was no suitable treatment.

  Jane opened the box. Inside was a silver chain with a jade pendant in the form of an intricately carved dragon. ‘Edmund, this is beautiful!’

  ‘I'm glad you like it. You're the best scrub nurse I've ever had, Jane. I'm glad you're on my team. Now, one more dance and then I'll leave you young people.’

  It was still a good night. She danced with everyone, chatted, laughed. Later on someone brought out a top hat from its hiding place behind the bar and found her a hockey stick. For a while the disco was silent, and someone sat behind the old piano and played the introductory bars to “Falling in Love Again”. She found herself being lifted onto the bar, and once again had to strut along the top, doing her smoky Marlene Dietrich impression. It went down well.

  The party eventually wound down. She kissed everyone else again, and was told her taxi was waiting outside. She left with Megan.

  ‘You're a super singer,’ said Megan. ‘I bet you could do it professionally.’

  ‘Well, I'm in the hospital choir, but I'd rather be a scrub nurse than a singer. Did you have a good time?’

  ‘Yes, I did. I danced a bit, talked with one or two people. You really seemed to enjoy yourself. Mind you, you always do.’

  ‘It was my birthday,’ Jane said. In the darkness she closed her eyes. She always did enjoy herself. But next year – her thirtieth birthday – she thought she might like to have a change. But what sort of change?

  ‘Good night last night,’ Megan said next morning. ‘I enjoyed myself.’ She sat opposite Jane, the two of them in dressing-gowns, eating bowls of muesli. ‘What's it feel like to be twenty-nine?’

  ‘Very similar to being twenty-eight. Next year will be the telling birthday. Shall I make more tea?’

  After she had filled the kettle she heard the bang of the letter-box and the smack of letters hitting the floor, so she went to fetch their mail.

  All three girls got plenty of letters, among which was always a lot of junk medical mail. Jane sorted through the pile, pushing Megan's letters over to her, and stacking Sue's on the corner of the table. Apart from the usual rubbish, she herself had a couple of belated birthday cards. She opened them and placed them with all the others
on the cupboard in the corner. There was one envelope left, thick and official-looking. For some reason it made her feel uneasy.

  ‘Me first in the bathroom,’ Megan said. ‘Take your time over your cup of tea.’ And she was gone.

  Alone now, Jane picked up the thick envelope, and turned it over a couple times. Then she ripped it open. Inside was a sheet of paper and another sealed envelope. She looked at the sheet of paper, which was headed with the name of an agency. Twice she read the typewritten paragraphs and her face paled. She picked up the sealed envelope and shook it as if there might be something inside. Then she thrust envelope and sheet back inside the larger envelope.

  Megan was still in the bathroom so no one had seen Jane's reaction. No one here knew the letter existed. Jane rushed upstairs, pulled open her stocking drawer, and thrust the envelope at the back. She knew it wasn't like her. Jane prided herself that she faced all problems head on. Whatever life offered, she could take it. But she couldn't take this, not just yet. She had to have time. She'd open the letter when she was ready.

  Chapter Two

  ‘David, this is Jane Cabot, the best scrub nurse in the north of England. Jane, I'd like you to meet Dr David Kershaw, our new anaesthetist.’

  It was the following Monday morning, and Jane was scrubbing up for the day's list. She turned to the two green-clad figures behind her, and the new anaesthetist held out his hand to her. ‘Pleased to meet you, Jane. I hope we'll work well together.’

  Her friend Ann had warned her, but the sight of him was still a shock. This new man was all that she'd said – and more. He was the most handsome – no, beautiful – man that Jane had ever seen. Even his voice was beautiful, soft, and soothing. Almost an anaesthetic in itself, she found herself thinking wildly.

  Speechless, she took the extended hand.

  David Kershaw was tall. He towered over Edmund, and made even her own very respectable five feet nine inches seem petite. Shapeless greens hid his body, but she had the impression of broad shoulders and a slim waist. His head was covered with golden curls traditionally given to Greek gods. Unusually for a fair man, he had a slight tan. His eyes were the darkest blue possible and wonderfully curved lips covered the whitest of teeth.

  This man is going to cause havoc among the younger nurses, she thought gloomily to herself. Then she realised that she'd said nothing yet, and recovered quickly. She was too old to be impressed by a pretty face.

  ‘Welcome to Emmy's, Dr Kershaw,’ she said. ‘I hope you'll be happy here. It's a good place to work.’

  ‘I've been made very welcome so far, and I'm looking forward to working here. But, please, call me David. Round the operating table everyone has a job to do and is equally important.’ He glanced at Edmund, and added, straight-faced, ‘Except for the surgeon of course, who is most important.’

  Edmund laughed and so did Jane. Good, the new anaesthetist had a sense of humour. At times in Theatre it was invaluable, if not taken too far. If things weren't going well with an operation, the entire Theatre could get tense. An atmosphere developed in which mistakes could be made. Edmund was a brilliant surgeon, but he was no good at defusing an atmosphere. Judy Parsons had been good at it, and with luck this man would be good, too.

  The operating assistant poked his head cautiously round the corner of the door. ‘Mr Steadman? We've got a bit of a problem with this form. If you've got a minute to sort it out …’

  ‘Problem with a form!’ stormed Edmund. ‘I'm supposed to be a surgeon, not a clerk. I've got a …’

  He saw Jane shaking her head at him, and sighed. ‘All right, I'll come and see if I can sort it out. I'll be back in five minutes, you two. Just don't start without me.’

  The door banged shut and Jane was alone with David Kershaw. There was a slight change in the atmosphere, and she thought that somehow things felt different. She wondered if he felt the same way but she couldn't tell. It was strange. He hadn't said anything to her, and yet things were definitely … different. She found herself warming to him as she looked at him. And then she remembered the desolation in her friend Ann's voice, and decided to tease him a little.

  ‘Are you married, David? If you have a wife we'd like to make her welcome. The hospital has quite a wide social life, and we'd like to introduce her to it. It must be strange, coming to a completely new town.’

  Calmly, he shook his head. ‘I'm not married, I don't have a partner, a girlfriend, or any prospect of either. I'm here to concentrate on my work.’

  He had an odd nervous gesture, she noticed. His body remained perfectly still, very relaxed, but he rubbed the inside of the fingers of his right hand with the fingertips of his left. It was a gentle, caressing movement.

  He went on, ‘Since we're going to get to know each other, and work together, perhaps you ought to tell me about yourself. I see no ring on your finger. Are you married, engaged or, as they say, do you have a partner?’

  She was taken aback by this. But since she had just asked him the same thing, she supposed it was a fair question. ‘No, I've nobody at the moment. I'm footloose and fancy-free.’

  He fixed her with those amazing blue eyes. ‘You surprise me,’ he said quietly. ‘I would have thought a very attractive girl like yourself would have been snapped up quickly. But still … perhaps you're looking for the right man.’

  She realised that calling her a very attractive girl wasn't a come-on, but a simple statement of fact. She rather liked it. And, she had to admit, she was flattered, too. But it was definitely time to change the subject. Things were getting a little too personal.

  ‘Where are you living?’ she asked.

  She was answered in the same calm tones. ‘At the moment I have a place in the hospital. But I put down a deposit for a flat on Ransome's Wharf yesterday. I hope to move in a week or two.’

  She blinked. She knew of Ransome's Wharf. It was a set of converted warehouses overlooking the river. The conversions had been expensive, and the view of the Welsh hills beyond the river made them even more desirable. ‘That's nice,’ she said. ‘I'm sure you'll be comfortable there.’

  ‘I've lived in furnished places for too long. I want to put down roots now.’

  His voice was so calm, so musical, that she felt it lulling her. It gave her confidence in the man, as if he – She jerked her thoughts back to normal.

  ‘You've got a very musical voice,’ she said boldly. ‘Do you sing at all?’

  ‘Only in the bath. And then quite quietly.’

  ‘I'm in the hospital choir. We're always looking for new voices, especially male voices. Why don't you come for an audition?’

  He shook his head, obviously amused. ‘First of all, I have to settle down in the job. Secondly, I've never sung to anyone but myself and I don't fancy the idea of being in a choir. We have to be a team in Theatre, and I like that. But outside work – socially – I tend to be a bit of a loner.’

  ‘You don't like company?’

  ‘Yes, I do. But I like it on my own terms. I'm not very keen on the compulsory enjoyment of parties. A small group of two, three or four is my idea of a good time.’

  Jane remembered the numbers at her own party last week, how much she had enjoyed seeing everyone, and winced. She didn't really have a lot in common, with this man, did she?

  Before she could answer, Edmund was back in the room. ‘Problem sorted,’ he said. ‘David, the first case is on her way up. D'you want to go and do your bit?’

  ‘I'll see you in Theatre,’ David said. ‘You too, Jane.’

  It had sounded almost like an invitation. An intimate invitation.

  However, she had her own work to do. She went to scrub up, side by side with the trainee Mary Barnes again, who was coming along well. As she scrubbed she thought about David Kershaw. Yes he was beautiful. But she'd liked him. She'd met very handsome men before, who were well aware of their own good looks and the effect they had on women. She felt that David was aware of the effect he had, but that he wouldn't delight in it or trade on it
. She liked him for that. Then she remembered. He'd hurt her friend, even though Ann didn't hold it against him. Perhaps he was much more cunning than she'd given him credit for.

  Usually the anaesthetist sat by the patient's head, keeping a keen eye on his own concerns and only looking occasionally at the work of the surgeon. But she noticed that although David was obviously competent at his own job he appeared fascinated by what Edmund was doing, and even on occasion peered over to have a closer look. Edmund found this interesting, and explained what he was doing to David as well as his two students. Jane found it curious, too.

  It was the end of another good, hard day and as ever she'd enjoyed herself. As she wheeled her bike out of the boiler-house she decided she was going to enjoy working with David Kershaw. Already she could feel herself slipping into a partnership in which she, Edmund, and David worked together. And David and Edmund seemed to like and respect each other. That was important. Edmund and Dr Lane had never got on. Yes, she could work with David. And she didn't need to worry about his private life, did she?

  Behind her she heard the growl of an engine, something much more powerful than was usually heard in the hospital car park. She turned as a silver sports car drew up alongside her. David looked out of the window.

  He'd changed into civvies – a black leather jacket and a white open-necked shirt. In front of him she could see an array of dials on a rather frightening dashboard. He looked as if he fitted in the car, was perfectly at home.

  ‘You make me feel ashamed of myself,’ he said in his calm voice. ‘Every now and again I give talks to women's clubs about the respiratory system, the dangers of smoking, the value of exercise. Now I see you on a health-giving bicycle and I'm in this silver monster.’

  ‘I know it's a Porsche,’ she told him. ‘Apparently the engineering is wonderful. My little brother says he wants one when he can afford it.’

  ‘Your little brother? Scrub Nurse Cabot, do you realise you're making me feel like a perpetual adolescent? Still, if your brother approves, you might. Would you like a ride in it some time? I could take you into the surrounding countryside and you could show me around a bit. Perhaps we could have a drink or something.’