Tender Nurse

by Hilda Nickson

  “No, I won’t be long.”

  She said good night, and no sooner had she gone, than Jean Craig came in.

  “Grey, Mr. Graham says you’re to come and have a cup of tea.”

  “But I haven’t finished yet, Nurse.”

  “Never mind. We’ll finish off later. His word is law, you know. I think he’s taken quite a fancy to you, Grey,” she added as they walked back to the sitting room.

  Andrea colored. “I — I don’t think so, Nurse. In fact, I got on the wrong side of him before I’d been here many hours.”

  “Well, you’re on the right side of him now.”

  “Ah, here they are,” said George as they entered the sitting room. “What do you mean by deserting us like that?”

  “Nurse Grey is very conscientious,” said Jean. “She likes to do her fair share of the work.”

  Andrea saw a faint smile cross Martin’s features, and thought suddenly of some of his earlier caustic comments.

  Jean disappeared into the kitchen to put more water in the tea pot.

  “That was a very nice party you gave last night,” Martin said. “I liked your flat.”

  Andrea looked at him uncertainly. “Thank you.”

  She wanted to say, “I hope you’ll come again,” but he was the senior surgeon and her superior. One did not, it seemed, treat them quite as human beings.

  Jean came back and presently, Martin rose.

  “Think I’ll go along and take a look at Nurse Wainwright,” he said. “Thanks for your assistance, both of you, and for the tea.” His gaze rested on Andrea for a brief moment.

  “Good night.”

  Jean followed him to the door to accompany him to the end of the corridor.

  “Have you much more to do, Andrea?” George asked. “Some mopping and a little tidying. I’d better go and get on with it.”

  “I’ll come and give you a hand.”

  Andrea protested, but he was insistent.

  “Well, of course, if you insist, I suppose I can’t stop you,” she said, laughing.

  “You have a grand set of friends, Andrea,” he said as he mopped vigorously. He paused for a moment and looked at her keenly. “Is Godfrey the number one man in your life?”

  “I suppose so, though we’re not exactly engaged,” she answered. “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged and began wielding the mop again.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  The next few weeks were supremely happy ones for Andrea. Now thoroughly familiar with the routine of the theatre, she was enjoying every minute of every busy day, though often, she went to bed tired and exhausted. During these days her admiration for Martin as a surgeon grew, and her respect and liking for him as a person deepened.

  At first, it amused Virginia to hear Andrea speak enthusiastically of the formerly despised Martin, but there came times when she eyed her friend dubiously. Somehow she felt that Andrea was skating on very thin ice indeed, and that one day it would crack beneath her feet.

  Godfrey, too, sensed a change in her. The edginess she had previously shown disappeared and she became infinitely more dear to him.

  Dear Godfrey, Andrea thought as she hung up clean masks and gowns. Sometimes she wondered if she was being really fair to him in keeping him waiting. Yet he seemed content, if not determined, to do so.

  She put on her mask and gown and went into the body of the theatre where preparations were well under way for the day’s operations. Pat Rivers was laying out sterile covers on the instrument trolly; Janet Scott was setting the anaesthetic trolly and Nurse Craig, already scrubbed up, was preparing sutures. Any minute now, George and Martin would come in for a brief word with the first patient who was even now being wheeled into the other room.

  George came in first. “Good morning,” he sang out cheerily. He winked at Andrea and began to scrub his hands.

  “Do you like music, Andrea?” he asked suddenly.

  “What kind of music?” she countered in surprise.

  “The Doyle Carte opera company are coming to the Theatre Royal at Cliftonville next week. A fellow I know has a leading role. He sent me four tickets. He can manage a box for four if I let him know what night.”

  “Four?”

  He grinned. “Virginia is coming, so I thought you might like to.”

  Andrea presumed he would be using one ticket himself and was about to ask him who the fourth person would be, but Martin and Julia Fisher came in and further talk was suspended.

  “See you later,” George said, and went to give the anaesthetic.

  Julia Fisher eyed Andrea suspiciously as she scrubbed her hands and went to wait for Martin at the operation table. Martin scrubbed in silence, but as Andrea was fastening the tapes of his gown he said:

  “Has George asked you about the Gilbert and Sullivan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to go?”

  She hesitated, and he added. “Perhaps your off-duty is all booked up?”

  Before she could answer, Julia Fisher’s voice cut across the intervening space sharply.

  “Nurse Grey.”

  “Yes, Sister.”

  Julia rapped out an order, her pale blue eyes cold and hard. For the rest of the morning she watched Andrea shrewdly, and when the time came for first lunch, instead of sending Andrea with Nurse Craig as usual, she kept her behind and sent Janet Scott instead.

  “Take anaesthetic duties, Nurse Grey,” she said acidly. “And be careful what you’re doing.”

  “Someone is in a bit of a temper today,” George remarked as he gave the next anaesthetic.

  Andrea made a non-commital reply. She felt she knew the reason for Sister’s displeasure, but she did not want to mention Martin’s name in front of the patient and the ward nurse. This was the first time an incident like this had occurred. For one thing, it was most unusual for Martin to talk at all while he was scrubbing and gowning. On other occasions when he had talked to her, Sister had been off duty. Andrea had almost forgotten the reputation Sister had for jealously guarding her standing with Martin. She thought of the evening she had seen Martin and Sister going into the Theatre Royal and wondered how often they had gone out together since.

  At lunch time Andrea saw Virginia for a brief five minutes.

  “George asked me to put a rather delicate question to you,” Virginia said.

  “Oh? Anything to do with the proposed visit to the theatre?”

  “Yes. It appears Martin would like you to be included in the party. George would like Martin to come but isn’t sure whether you would prefer Godfrey to be asked to make up the four.”

  “Martin would like me?” breathed Andrea wonderingly.

  Virginia smiled. “You’re making history, pet,” she said, hiding the misgivings she felt. How would Godfrey feel about it? “What do you think, Andrea?”

  “Well,” she said slowly. “As Mr. Graham is George’s friend and it’s his party, it seems obvious. It’s nice of George to consider Godfrey, but it isn’t necessary and I’m sure Godfrey won’t be hurt by my going.”

  Virginia got up to go back on duty. “I’ll set his mind at rest then. He rang me up during a break in the ops, this morning. Apparently things have been rather difficult in theatre — no opportunity to talk. In any case he didn’t like broaching the subject of Godfrey to you.” She turned at the door. “We’re going to see the new film at the Palais tonight.”

  “I have a lecture so I’ll be staying in,” Andrea said.

  If Julia Fisher changed meal times around, she was not allowed to change the nurses off duty once it had been arranged for the week. The rule had been made by Matron to protect the nurses’ interest. So that after all, Sister was off duty in the afternoon, leaving Nurse Craig in charge and Andrea back on her usual duties of attending the surgeons.

  George did not mention the theatre party again, however. Virginia would probably speak to him that evening.

  As usual when Sister Fisher was off duty, the atmosphere in the
theatre was much more light-hearted. The surgeons were in good spirits and they and George kept up a light banter throughout the greater part of the afternoon. With one exception, the really serious operations had been performed in the morning. The afternoon’s work consisted mainly of simple hernias, and after a while, Martin left these to his assistant so that he could study some X-rays. Andrea was told to go to the theatre sitting room and get them out for him.

  Martin could have managed perfectly well alone. The patient’s name, the date of X-ray were both written clearly on each plate and he knew where they were kept. But the hospital was nurtured on etiquette. Nurse Craig would have been both horrified and embarrassed had he said: “I can manage, Nurse.” Besides, the more he saw of Andrea, the more she intrigued and disturbed him.

  He was intrigued by the almost casual way she spoke to him. So refreshing from the deference to which he had had to become accustomed. Yet she was efficient She had committed none of the faux pas most nurses did when they first came into the theatre to work. But most of all, she disturbed him. Lately he had found himself checking the impulse to touch her hand, to pat her dark head, to put a hand on her shoulder.

  He was resisting such an impulse now, as she bent her head over the pile of X-ray plates, her long, dark lashes beautifully curved, her cheeks slightly flushed from the heat of the theatre and her lips faintly pink in spite of the absence of lipstick.

  She extracted one of the plates he wanted, blushing a little as she looked up to find his gaze fixed upon her.

  “I’ll switch on the view box for you,” she said hurriedly.

  He watched her as she placed the plate in position and switched on the light in the box. Suddenly, he longed to take her in his arms and press his lips to hers as he had on that night in his car.

  He went over to her. She was about to move away, but he put his hand on her shoulder. He heard the swift intake of her breath and felt her stiffen — so she still dis-liked him.

  “I just want to show you this X-ray, nurse,” he said, pointing to an outline. “This man has a chronic gastric ulcer. See — where the barium didn’t fill?”

  He went on talking, his hand still on her shoulder, enjoying the feel of her and her nearness. So easy to pull her round and kiss her. Then suddenly he pulled himself together. What in heaven’s name was the matter with him? If he was not careful, he would make a complete fool of himself over this girl. Abruptly he took his hand away from her shoulder.

  Trembling, Andrea moved away and with hands that shook, began searching through the X-ray plates for the others he wanted. She found one and handed it to him as Jean Craig came in.

  “I’ll take over now, Nurse,” she said briskly. “You can go and watch the last hernia.”

  Greatly relieved, Andrea went. She could still feel the pressure of his hand on her shoulder. Why was it that it had seemed the most natural thing in the world, as if it had always been that way between them? She had wanted to lean her head on his shoulder, look up at him and smile into his eyes. Virginia had said that he could be charming when he chose. Did he do that kind of thing to the other nurses? But what was she about? Making a fuss over nothing. She had been shaking like a leaf when he had waved his hand. How ridiculous.

  After her lecture, Andrea had a bath and slipped into her house-coat for an hour’s leisure before putting on the kettle ready to make tea when Virginia came in from her date with George. Virginia came into the small kitchen set apart for the nurses’ use, just as the kettle was boiling. “That’s a pleasant sight,” she said.

  Andrea smiled. “Martin says every time he sees me I seem to be making tea.”

  “Does he now?” Virginia’s eyes twinkled. “I expect theatre staff have nothing else to do.”

  Andrea laughed. “That’s right. We haven’t. Now go and get into your dressing gown while I make the tea.”

  “O.K. I won’t be a jiffy.”

  She darted off and Andrea carried the teapot to her room and waited.

  “Well — did you have a nice evening!” she asked as Virginia came in wearing a gay floral house-coat in one of the new cottons.

  “Yes. We had a very enjoyable time. I like George enormously.” She was silent for a minute, then she said thoughtfully: “He told me tonight that he intends to specialize.”

  Andrea glanced at her quickly. “Specialize?”

  “Yes — in diseases of the heart. He had always been keen on hearts.”

  “Will that mean he will leave the Royal?”

  “Eventually — but not for some time yet. He doesn’t want it generally known, of course.”

  Andrea handed her a cup of tea. “Will you be terribly upset? About his going, I mean. I know you’re very fond of him.”

  Virginia gave a slight smile. “Oh, yes, I’m fond of him — very. I shall miss him when he goes, but I’m glad for his sake. I know how deeply he feels for patients suffering from heart disease and he longs to be able to do more to ease their suffering.”

  Andrea wondered if Virginia was in love with George, but did not want to probe. Virginia was strangely reserved at times and Andrea would not for the world try to force her confidence.

  For a while they were both silent, then Andrea asked: “Did George say anything more about the evening at the theatre?”

  Virginia sipped her tea. “Yes. I told him what you said about Godfrey not minding. We’re to let him know what evening suits us. He and Martin will fit in.”

  “We shall have to wait and see what our duty is.”

  “You’re absolutely sure about Godfrey, are you, Andrea?”

  “Yes quite. I always reserve the evening of my day off for him. I meet him straight from his office and we have a nice long evening together. If I get a Saturday off we have the whole day of course. Then there are my Sunday half days — we spend those together too. An ordinary short evening will do for the opera, won’t it? We shall be off at six and it won’t take us long to get ready if we put everything out at tea-time.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Virginia said absently.

  “Virginia — you don’t think I’m being disloyal to Godfrey, or anything like that, do you? I mean, it’s not as though I’m going out with another man alone. There will be the four of us, and I shall tell Godfrey, of course.”

  “Yes, I can see your point. And I’m sure you’re incapable of disloyalty. It’s just that——” she hesitated.

  “Yes?” Andrea prompted.

  “Well, he — he seems so terribly fond of you, Andy.” Andrea looked at her friend, a humorous twinkle in her dark eyes.

  “I do believe you’ve got a soft spot for him, Gini — not that I blame you. I know he’s fond of me, and I am of him. I wouldn’t hurt him for the world. I just know that he won’t be hurt if I have an evening at the theatre with you and George and Martin for the simple reason that there’s nothing to it — nothing serious, that is. Martin and George happen to be friends, and you and I happen to be too. What more natural?”

  In reassuring Virginia, Andrea was also reassuring herself. She was looking forward to the evening more than she would admit, even to herself, and in the intervening days she became more and more aware of Martin when he was in the theatre. A certain, inexplicable, understanding had gradually grown between them. Even when he was silently scrubbing his hands he seemed to be speaking to her. If, when he was pulling on his rubber gloves, he passed some casual remark about an operation or asked her a question about herself, his words seemed to hold more than their ordinary meaning.

  “It’s amazing,” she said to Virginia on the night of the proposed visit to the opera. “We seem to have suddenly become like old friends. When I think of how I used to loathe him——”

  Virginia’s eyes twinkled mischievously.

  “Now don’t say it!” Andrea said. “It’s not hero worship or anything like that. I’m not kneeling at his shrine. I’ve merely discovered that he’s a human being because he is behaving like one.”

  “All right, dear, all
right. Now hurry, George will be waiting.”

  To avoid gossip, George had arranged to pick them up outside the hospital grounds and had parked his car in a small side street off the main road. He opened the door from the inside and motioned to Virginia to sit in the front. Martin opened the rear door for Andrea from the shadow of the back seat. She climbed in and George set the car in motion.

  Martin smiled as she sat down beside him. “Good evening, Andrea.”

  She gave an inward start of surprise at his use of her Christian name. She had not even realized that he knew it.

  “Er, good evening, Mr. Graham,” she answered hesitantly.

  He looked at her. “We’re off duty now. Let’s drop the formalities, shall we? Call me Martin. I’m sure you can if you try.”

  “All right—Martin.”

  “Have you seen tonight’s opera before?” he asked.

  “No. I’ve seen several of Gilbert and Sullivan operas, but not this particular one.”

  “Then there’s a real treat in store for you. I think it’s one of the loveliest of them all. Not perhaps for costumes, but for the wit and the music.”

  The Theatre Royal at Cliftonville was the one into which Andrea had seen Martin and Sister Fisher going.

  Andrea wondered vaguely why Sister had not been asked to come instead of herself. The four tickets could quite easily have been split into separate pairs.

  As the car sped through Burton, the night that Martin had given her the lift and had kissed her, came vividly back into her mind. It was obviously passing through his mind also, for as she glanced at him, he turned his head to look at her. His eyes held hers for a moment, then with a slight smile and an inclination of the head, he patted her hand.

  “Am I forgiven for that night, Andrea?”

  She flushed faintly. “Of course,” she murmured.

  George called out: “We’re calling at the Hutt for a bite of supper, Andrea. The landlord will have everything ready for us.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

  “Oh, you need it. You nurses have a very early afternoon tea, and there’ll be very little time when we leave the theatre.”