Tender Nurse

by Hilda Nickson

  “Hello, darling,” he said affectionately as he tucked her arm in his. “I’ve booked a table for tea. You can tell me all your news and what you’d like to do with the evening while we’re tucking in.”

  Later when he sat facing her across the cafe table, he said: “How are you, darling? Your looking rather tired?”

  She answered, smiling: “I shouldn’t be. I slept particularly well last night.”

  “Did you enjoy the theatre the other evening?” he asked after a while.

  “Yes, I did, Godfrey. Very much indeed. It was wonderful.”

  He looked at her shining eyes. “What was so wonderful—the music or the company?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  “Why, Godfrey,” she exclaimed in surprise. “You’re not jealous are you? You said you didn’t mind.”

  “Of course I’m jealous. I’m jealous all the time of anyone who has the pleasure of your delightful company —even for an hour.”

  She looked at him gravely. “Darling, don’t be jealous —you have no cause. Jealousy is such an unreasonable emotion.”

  He caught at her hand on the table. “Well, I’ve got you for tonight anyway. Tell me where you’d like to go.”

  She leaned back in her chair, and a sudden longing took possession of her.

  “I’d just like to go home,” she said simply.

  “Home? You mean——”

  “Just home—to the flat. I’d like to sit around in an old dress and wear a pair of old slippers and do nothing— listen to some music perhaps.”

  He looked at her uncertainly. “You don’t mean— alone, Andrea?”

  “No, not alone. You too, if you like.”

  “If I like! Let’s not waste another minute. I’ve got the car parked round the corner. We can be there in five minutes.”

  They lounged, listened to some music and had a little supper. Sensing that she wanted to relax, Godfrey made no attempt to make love to her. Only when they said good night at the hospital gates, did he take her into his arms.

  “Have you any idea how much I love you?” he murmured.

  “Godfrey, don’t love me too much. I—no woman is worth it.”

  “Darling, you are worth all the love any man can give you.”

  “Dear Godfrey,” was all she could say. He was worthy of so much more love than she was able to give him.

  The next day was Virginia’s day off. Andrea was surprised to see her in the dining room at tea time.

  “I was hoping to see you, Andrea,” she said. “George and Martin are cooking up a run into Cliftonville later on—when you’re off.”

  Andrea’s heart leapt. “Are they really? Whose idea was that?”

  “Martin’s,” Virginia said briefly.

  Andrea gave her a quick glance. “Would you rather have gone out with George alone?”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  Andrea could scarcely believe that Martin wanted her company again so soon. She told herself not to set too much store by it. Perhaps he was just feeling the need to relax and preferred to go out in a foursome to save gossip.

  As they got up from the table, Virginia murmured; “George will pick you up at the side entrance to the Home as soon after half-past eight as you can make it. We’re picking Martin up outside the gates.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the Hutt for a meal, I believe.”

  Andrea went back to the theatre for the remainder of her duty time. At eight-thirty she rushed to her room to get ready. She had not a very extensive wardrobe, so she wore the same deep blue Taiho dress she had worn for the opera. Martin had said it suited her, she reflected, as she gave a quick look at herself in the mirror before picking up a short jacket to wear on the way back. George’s car was waiting, but to her surprise he was alone.

  George started the car as she got in beside him. “Virginia is waiting outside with Martin. Something has happened. She has to go home right away.”

  “Oh dear,” Andrea said in dismay. “I do hope it’s nothing serious.”

  “Her mother has had to be rushed to hospital. I’m running Virginia over.” He gave Andrea a sideways look. “Martin very much wants you to go along to the Hutt with him as planned. I hope you will, because I’ve booked a table.”

  Andrea made no reply to this. For a moment or two, her thoughts were sympathetically with Virginia. She hoped her mother was not dangerously ill. Then as she thought over what George had just told her, a queer kind of excitement welled up at the thought of going out alone with Martin. Almost immediately however, she despised herself for it as Godfrey came into her mind.

  George turned the car out of the hospital gates into the side street where he and Martin had waited on the other occasion. Martin was sitting at the wheel of his own car.

  Virginia got out and Andrea ran over to her.

  “Virginia, I’m so sorry about your mother. I do hope you find her not as bad as it sounds.”

  “Thanks, Andrea. It appears to be something abdominal from what my brother said over the telephone. I’m sorry to break up the party, but don’t let it spoil your evening.”

  She went over to George’s car and got in. Both gave a nod and a wave and they drove away.

  Martin had got out of his car and stood holding the door open for Andrea.

  “You don’t mind coming with me alone, do you, Andrea?”

  His voice and expression had a wistful, almost pleading quality. Andrea’s heart warmed toward him and her lingering doubts as to the rightness of going with him fled.

  “Of course not,” she said impulsively.

  Their eyes met, and suddenly they both laughed. He half bowed and motioned her to her seat in the car, “Madame.”

  Laughingly she got in. He banged the door and went quickly round to the other side.

  A slight smile on his face, he started the car. Beside him, Andrea sat back, a strange contentment stealing over her. Martin drove in silence, only turning now and again to smile at her. Somehow, there seemed no need for conversation.

  It was almost dark when they reached the Hutt. Martin explained to the proprietor that the rest of the party were suddenly unable to come and they were shown to a smaller table in a quiet corner. The lights in the small dining room were dimmed, giving everything a soft, warm glow. Each table had its own lamp and a small bowl of sweet-smelling roses.

  As they sat down Martin said. “I’m glad you’re wearing that dress again. I love it.”

  She looked at him shyly. “How nicely you put it—the fact that I’m wearing the same dress.”

  He smiled slightly. “Don’t disappoint me. I was thinking you had done it because I liked it. Tell me honestly now.”

  “Well, quite apart from the fact that my wardrobe is rather limited, I did remember that you liked it.”

  He smiled broadly. “I knew it. Any other girl would have gone to tremendous pains to wear something different. You’re not like anyone else.”

  The waiter brought the menu and when they ordered dinner, Martin murmured something to the man who brought a tray on which were two glasses and a bottle of wine.

  “I know you don’t drink a lot, Andrea,” Martin said, “but I feel this is a special occasion. You’ll like this, I feel sure.”

  The waiter filled their glasses, then went to bring the first course. Martin picked up his glass and smiled across the table at her.

  “To you, my dear,” he said.

  Andrea picked up hers. “To you,” she returned breathlessly. The wine was sweet and sparkling.

  “Like it?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes, it’s lovely.”

  The waiter brought their meal. Delicious Sevigne soup, followed by roast turkey, coffee and ices. Andrea could scarcely believe it was true. To be sitting here, dining alone with Martin Graham, the idol of the hospital. It seemed incredible when only a short time ago she had so despised him. He was charming, courteous and attentive.

  When they were a little way through their meal, Andrea had not
iced the waiter bring something and set it discreetly at Martin’s side. Now the man drew from a cooler a small bottle of champagne.

  Andrea’s eyes widened in surprise. “Champagne! Oh, Martin,” she breathed.

  The cork popped and the waiter poured the sparkling wine and discreetly vanished.

  Martin smiled. “A special occasion requires a special drink. It will set a seal on our—friendship. Here’s to us.”

  She raised her glass. “To our friendship,” she murmured, her eyes glowing.

  “You know, Andrea, I haven’t done this for years— taken a nice girl out to dinner. Somehow, there’s never been anyone at the Royal that I’ve wanted to take out.”

  “That’s a wonderful compliment, Martin.”

  “Not at all, my dear. Just a simple statement of fact. Tell me, Andrea—when did you stop disliking me?”

  She colored slightly. “I might ask you the same question.”

  He smiled. “We did cut across each other at first, didn’t we? As soon as I saw you on the ward that morning, I knew you were different from anyone else I’d ever met, but I didn’t trust myself.”

  “You found me ‘just a shade too good to be true’ ?” she teased softly.

  He winced and gave a rueful smile. “Haven’t you quite forgiven me yet?”

  “Of course.” Impulsively, she reached her hand across the table and he closed his own over it.

  There was a small cocktail bar at one end of the room and during the evening, customers of the discreet type came and went. Martin was just helping Andrea on with her jacket when someone they both knew came through the door. It was Julia Fisher, accompanied by a man in naval uniform.

  “Oh, Martin — she mustn’t see us,” Andrea whispered.

  A look of impatience crossed his face. “Good heavens, why not! I’m not answerable to either Sister Fisher or anyone else.”

  “No, but — well, you know how everybody talks so.”

  “Give them something to talk about for a change,” he growled. Then he looked at Andrea’s somewhat distressed face. Perhaps it would make things difficult for her. He hadn’t, at first, thought of that.

  “All right, my dear.” He pointed to a small door. “Go through there and wait for me until I settle with the waiter.”

  She went through the door he had indicated and he beckoned the waiter.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Julia Fisher turn and look at him, but he pretended not to see her, and before she could move toward him, he had followed Andrea through the door.

  “She saw me,” he told her, “but I don’t think she saw you.”

  They hurried into his car and Martin drove quickly out of the car park and on to the main road.

  Soon they were driving through Burton Wood, the long, powerful beams of the car cutting a tunnel of light through the trees. Strongly aware of the man at her side, Andrea glanced at his profile. How familiar his face was becoming, how——

  As though acutely aware of her too, he turned his head and let his gaze rove quickly over her face.

  “Do you mind if I stop the car for a moment?” he asked, taking a swift look at the road ahead.

  “No,” she said wonderingly.

  He drew on to a grass verge and when he had stopped the car he turned toward her. He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to his.

  “Before we reach the hospital,” he said softly, “I’d just like to thank you for a very wonderful evening.”

  “It is I who should thank you,” she protested.

  He took her hand. “Youv’e given me a great deal of pleasure, my dear. Far more, I’m sure, than I have given you. The pleasure has been all mine, as they say.” He put his hand on her shoulder and her pulse quickened alarmingly. “May I ask one more favor of you?”

  “What is it?” she whispered tremulously.

  “Just to show once and for all that you have really forgiven me, will you let me kiss you again?”

  “I——” She felt unable to speak. A sudden longing to be taken into his arms possessed her to be replaced almost immediately by a strange shyness.

  Taking her silence for consent he resisted the temptation to pull her roughly to him, and kissed her gently on the lips.

  She grasped his arms tightly for a moment.

  He kissed her once more, then abruptly started the car.

  In the warm darkness she sat back trembling, a mixture of emotions. She felt she wanted to cry without knowing whether it was for joy or sorrow. Something had hap-pened to her. Something had been awakened by that brief, tender kiss and as yet she was not quite sure what.

  Chapter Nine

  IT WAS late that night when Virginia returned to the hospital. Andrea waited up for her. It appeared that her mother had had a severe attack of food poisoning, but was very much better when Virginia left her.

  “Did you have a nice time with Martin?” she asked Andrea.

  Andrea gave an ecstatic sigh. “Wonderful! I can’t think why I ever disliked him. He’s not really snobbish or conceited at all. He made me feel that the honor and pleasure of the evening were all his — that I’d actually done him a favor by going with him.”

  Virginia eyed her with an amused twinkle. “Well, isn’t that the way a man should think?”

  “Yes, I suppose so, but Martin is different.”

  “Is he?”

  Andrea gave a half smile. “Now Virginia——”

  Virginia laughed. “All right. Tell me the rest in the morning. I’m off to get my beauty sleep. ‘Night.”

  Andrea put out her light. Martin was a wonderful man and a great one. She was proud to have won his friendship and regard. She would treasure the memory of tonight for always. She went to sleep immediately, as a contented child, happy without the necessity of analyzing the source.

  During the following week, even Julia Fisher’s harsh tongue failed to have a great deal of effect on her, and for some reason, her treatment of Andrea was worse than before. Any unhappiness that this brought, however, was more than off-set by Martin’s continued friendliness. His smile was warm and seemed meant for her alone. As before, Andrea continued to be on duty with Nurse Craig, so that only in the mornings did she suffer from Julia’s malice. Martin had determined that if the Sister’s treatment of her did not improve, he would find some way of putting a stop to it, but Andrea appeared to be so unaffected by it that he thought it best not to say anything.

  Toward the end of the week, however, Andrea was dismayed to discover that she was no longer to be on and off duty with Nurse Craig, but with Sister.

  “You’ve been put on call duties too.” Jean told her. “It means that the nurses who are on duty until eight- thirty, are called up in the night if there’s an emergency.”

  “Oh, I see. Is Sister on call too?”

  “No, never. If there’s a call on my evening off, the senior pro takes it and night Sister helps out.”

  The new duties began on Monday. After a busy morning, there still remained three more operations before tea. If Julia Fisher had been harsh previously, she was doubly so now.

  “Handle the patient more carefully, Nurse—for goodness sake don’t throw him on to the table— he’s not a sack of flour. Nurse, the patient has just had an operation, do you want to yank out his stitches? Get to the other end of the man, Nurse Grey — don’t leave all the heavy lifting to someone else.”

  Though smarting under the injustice of these remarks, Andrea said nothing. To have made any protest would have brought a further reprimand — one of insubordination. She could only silently hope that Martin would know that she did handle the patients carefully and that she did not shirk her share of the heavy lifting.

  Martin glanced at Andrea. He thought she was beginning to show signs of strain. So far, she had taken Julia’s treatment of her very well. He wondered what was the cause of such sudden concentration on Andrea.

  The operations were finished and Julia sent Sally McAllister to make tea for the surgeons and anaes
thetist. To Andrea she snapped: “You can clear away your trolly now, Nurse Grey, and be careful with those syringes.” As Andrea had not yet broken a single syringe since she had been in theatre, she felt the remark as unfair and unjust as the others had been. Julia continued: “There have been far too many needles blunted lately, too. You should know by now how to clean and sterilize them properly.”

  Martin peeled off his gloves. When was Julia going to stop this ranting? All so unjust. She was getting Andrea near to tears.

  “When Staff Nurse comes back,” Julia was saying, “you can go to tea, but I want this whole place cleared up before you go off at six.”

  Andrea turned a pale face to her superior. “I have a lecture at five-fifteen, Sister.”

  “What!” A look of extreme exasperation crossed Julia’s face. She turned to Martin. “Really, the time these nurses take from the work to attend lectures — and they’re no wiser for them.”

  Martin’s brows shot up. “Surely, Sister, you and I have both had to gain much of our knowledge from the lecture room.”

  “Yes, but not in the patient’s time.” She turned again to Andrea. “Well, Nurse, you can go to tea at a quarter to five instead of half past four. Mind you have the anaesthetic room clean and tidy and all these instruments cleaned and in the sterilizer before you go.’’

  “Yes, Sister.”

  Andrea wheeled her trolly into the sterlizing room. She could not bring herself to look at Martin. What must he be thinking of her? He took her part just now, but it hardly seemed likely that he would want to hold to any avowals of friendship with the young, stupid, inefficient person Sister Fisher was making her seem. Where had she gone wrong that Sister had suddenly become so down on her?

  It was nearly half past four already. It was going to be as much as Andrea could do to get even a cup of tea if she was to do as Sister had bidden. A determined look came into her eyes. She would do it, even if she had to do without tea altogether.

  She did not see the frown on Martin’s face as he followed Sister through the doorway, his assistant at his heels. He longed to pause and speak to Andrea for a moment, but sandwiched as he was between the Theatre Sister and his colleague, it was nigh impossible. The drinking of tea or coffee after an operation list almost amounted to a ritual. In any case, there was the operation book to be signed and the ward case-sheets to be filled in — instruction as to post-operative drugs and special nursing treatment, followed by a brief resume of tomorrow’s work.