by Betty Neels
He drove fast through the city, passing ambulances with lights flashing, on their way back to the hospital. Obviously the rescue work was well under way. He parked the car in a side street, and pushed his way through the crowd. He saw Piet immediately kneeling beside a little girl. Coenraad looked round. There weren't many children left, those that were didn't appear to be badly hurt. A fire tender drew up beside the wreckedd bus, and several men began to unload equipment. He'd got to Piet by then, and without more ado held the small skinny arm flexed while Piet arranged a sling and gave him a short and con cise account of the children's injuries and what had been done for them. An ambulance man arrived and carried the small patient away and they moved on to a boy, sittin,-, propped up against a pile of coats. Blood trickled sluggishly down his face from a scalp wound, it had dyed his shirt a dark, sticky red. Coenraad laid him down with the observation that surely everyone knew that head cases lay flat. His skilful fingers were probing the long cut hidden under the blonde hair. `He's a concussion all right. Get him back to the clinic, Piet, as soon as possible.' He was busy with a pad and bandage, and frowned suddenly.
`I thought you said Adelaide was with you'.' Has she gone back?'
Piet looked up. `No. There's a child trapped in the nose of the bus, she's in there with her.'
The professor said nothing, but looked at the upended bus and turned to Piet with raised eyebrows.
`There wasn't anyone small or light enough to get to the child.'
Coenraad nodded. `I see. But I think it's time I got them out.' He went over to the men standing round the fire tender and stood talking for a minute, then took off his dinner Jacket and hoisted himself through the door Adelaide had entered. It was very dark inside, but he could hear Adelaide's voice. He listened carefully to the queer jumble of words and grinned to himself. It was then that his foot touched a piece of the wreckage, which went slithering down towards the nose of the bus. The child cried out in the sudden silence which followed. He heard Adelaide call too, but it seemed wisest not to answer her.
When he got back to the rescue squad they had already begun to cut a hole through to the driver's cabin; they had moved as much of the scrap-iron as they dared, and now two men stood ready with a metal stretcher from one of the ambulances. As the cut metal fell away they eased it through on to the mass of glass and splintered wood inside. It would make a firm base from which to work. The professor lowered himself to the ground and wormed his way carefully inside the bus.
Adelaide, crouching by the now uncon scious child, saw the light from his torch and had a brief shadowy sight of him, and the ii heard his quiet voice.
`Adelaide? Are you all right?"
'Coenraad! Yes, I'm fine.' She tried hard t() stop her voice from shaking. `I think Miep is unconscious; she hasn't answered me for the last few minutes.'
The professor was quite close to her now, separated by the smashed glass. He glanced at her briefly.
`Keep still for a little longer.'
She watched while he got cautiously to his knees and examined Miep. It was a good thing that the small creature had passed out; he would be able to work much faster. He ran gentle hands over the flaccid arms and legs; he could feel no broken bones, it was more likely that there was an internal injury. The wheel was wrapped around her waist, gripping her fast. He set to work on it, while Adelaide tried to keep her arms from shaking; the strain on them was almost unbearable.
It seemed a long time before Miep was free and he was able to take her in his arms and lower himself on to the stretcher again, to push her carefully out to the waiting hands beyond. He knelt down again and took the glass cutter from his pocket. Adelaide had pulled her arms back, and crouched, resting them on her lap. Their numbness was giving place to a cramp which was almost unbearable, and bringing her near to tears. When the professor after one fleeting glance, asked `Cramp?' it was all she could do to nod-she would not trust her trembling mouth to form the words.
He spoke bracingly. `Rub your arms and try and move your fingers; you'll need them in a minute to plait that hair.'
This time she managed a shaky smile and said in a determinedly bright voice: `Very well, I'll do my best.' He wasn't looking at her now, so she could let the tears trickle down her dirty cheeks; it was surprising how much better she felt for them. She rubbed her arms as she had been bidden to do, the pro fessor was lifting away the first pieces of jagged glass as she started, very clumsily, to gather her hair into a plait. There was very little room; she dared not move too much, it took a long time; by the time she had finished he was easing away the last splintered sheep of glass between them.
He was so close to her that she could see the little beads of sweat on his forehead. The same fine white dust that coated her face was on his; his hair was powdered with it too. She dismissed the frivolous thought that he would be a remarkably handsome old man with the speed it deserved, and worried instead about the long scratch she could see on the back of' one of his hands. Her alarming thoughts of tetanus and a possible dreadful death were brought to an abrupt end by the professor's voice, very much alive, its placid tones unaltered by his recent exertions.
`Put your arms around my neck, I'm going to lift you through.' She felt his arms around her waist, and clasped her own round his neck, and was lifted neatly through the hole he had i»ade. His deep, rather pedantic voice was just -ibove her ear.
`You have a saying in English-It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good.'
`Whatever do you mean? I don't see...'
They were kneeling on the stretcher now, and she loosened her hands from his neck and looked enquiringly at him in the torchlight. She was quite unprepared for the quick light kiss he gave her. He laughed a little.
`Now do you see? This is my honorarium.' Without another word he pushed her down on to the stretcher and towards the gap where they were waiting to help her out. Piet helped her to her feet and gave her a bear-like hug.
`Adelaide, are you OK?"
'Yes, of course. What about the little girl, is she all right?"
'She's in hospital by now; she looked pretty bad, but at least she's alive.'
He gave her a warm smile and turned to grin delightedly at Coenraad. The glare of a flash lamp made them start; there were several more as they joined the firemen and police, busy clearing up the mess. After a few minutes they said goodbye, and Adelaide found herself between the two doctors, being
urried to the car. They put her between them on the front seat, and the professor turned the car towards the hospital. He spoke briefly to Piet over her head.
`Rub Adelaide's hands, will you, she's going to need them presently.'
It was pleasant to sit back while Piet massaged her tingling hands in his great paws, and watch the professor, as relaxed as though he were returning from an evening's outing, shoot the Volvo between two trams, with a broad grin for the indignation earthily voiced by the drivers. To his enquiry, presently made, as to how she felt, she answered briefly:
`I'm fine, thank you.'
`You're filthy dirty.' He barely glanced at her. She wondered what she looked like, and was glad there was no mirror for her to see.
The professor was speaking again in a brisk voice.
`Half an hour for us all to have a bath and change. Sooner, if you can manage it.'
He swung the car through the hospital gates and stopped outside the Sister's Home. Lights were on in Casualty and the theatre wing, the clinic was ablaze with them. Adelaide found herself lifted down and propelled gently to the door, which the professor opened for her. `Thank you, sir,' she said politely, and was surprised when he took one of her very dirty hands in his and said:
`You're a very brave girl.' His voice sounded kind. He gave her a little push and went on in a different, brisk voice: `Half an hour, not a minute more.'
It wanted five minutes to the half hour when Adelaide arrived at the clinic. Excepting for her hair, which she hadn't had the time to wash, she looked exactly the same as us
ual. She put on a gown and tied her hair in a theatre cap, then pushed open the door of the Intensive Care room. Piet was already them and looked up as she went in.
`Hullo, Adelaide. There are three for theatre here. The fractures are already over on Orthopaedic, the rest are warded here. The professor wants you in theatre to scrub up. Dr Van Hoven is operating, they're going to be tricky cases.'
There were plenty of nurses on duty, the hospital hummed with them. The theatre was ready and waiting for the first case. Adelaide scrubbed up and started threading needles and checking swabs. The doors opened and the first patient was wheeled in, the anaesthetist at the trolley's head. The child was put on the theatre table. It was just after one o'clock in the morning.
The last case was wheeled out of theatre at half past four. Dr Van Hoven stripped off his gloves, and he and the anaesthetist, nodding their thanks to Adelaide, went off together. She started to clean the knives and needles while the two nurses washed and sorted instruments and cleaned the theatre. They were all tired, but no one disputed the rule that the theatre had to be left spotless and ready for use as soon as possible. Adelaide had just laid the last of the needles away when Night Sister put her head round the door.
`There are relief nurses coming on now; there's breakfast waiting for you as soon as you like.' They smiled at each other, two young women who had done a good night's work, before Night Sister hurried off.
An hour later, breakfasted, shampooed, and very sleepy, Adelaide climbed into bed. She wasn't on until eleven, so she could sleep for an hour or two.
Punctually she walked into the clinic. The waiting room was as full as usual. She went into the office, where the professor, calm and immaculate, sat at his desk. He looked up briefly to answer her good morning, but Piet greeted her with a sigh of relief.
`Thank heaven you're here! I can't find a thing.' He took a second look at her. `It's a pity the papers can't photograph you now, instead of printing the ones they took of you lass night.'
Adelaide, already restoring order among the notes, gazed across at him.
`What do you mean? Did they take somc photos? Whatever for?"
'You're in the morning papers; I expect you're in the English papers too.'
She piled some X-rays beside the professor `Well, if they're as bad as all that, no one will recognise me,' she said reasonably. Shy stopped, struck by the thought that her parents, confronted by a photograph of herself taken by flashlight when she was not at her best, might be alarmed. This awful thought was interrupted by a cough from the professor.
'I-er-took the liberty of telephoning your father early this morning. I thought he might be anxious if there should be some mention of the accident in his paper. There probably is, you're a heroine, you know.' His voice was dry.
Adelaide blushed, and for that reason, frowned heavily.
`Thank you very much, sir. It was kind of you to think of it. But what a lot of fuss to make.'
She was fidgeting with a pile of notes, and getting them into a sad state of untidiness. She dropped them like hot coals as the professor said crisply: `I shall be wanting those in a minute.'
'I'm sorry, sir,' she said meekly, and then, `Professor?'
He sat back and said encouragingly, `Yes, Sister?'
She stood in front of him, trying to be composed and cool, and to forget his kiss amidst the ruins of the bus-his fee, he had called it.
`I must thank you for getting me out last night. I was very frightened, you know. It was so dark. I believe you saved our lives, and I am indeed grateful. Just thanking you doesn't seem enough,' she added worriedly.
`Thanking me is quite enough, Sister Peters. It just so happened that I was there. It could have been anyone else, you know.'
She felt surprised at this. `But I knew it would be you.'
The professor was studying the papers before him, his pen busy once more, and she didn't expect an answer. She gave a small unconscious sigh.
`Did you and Dr B eekman go to bed? You both look very tired.'
`It was hardly worth it, Sister. We'll go off early if we can.' He glanced up from his work, half smiling. `Thank you for your solicitude. Now, if you are ready, shall we have the next patient?'
CHAPTER SIX
THE professor was well known and liked in Amsterdam and the publicity about the bus accident was considerable, but he shrugged it off politely. Adelaide, too, came in for a large share of praise and admiration, which tried and embarrassed her. Miep had been admitted to the ward with fractured ribs and a perforated lung, and she went each day to see her.
A few days after the accident, Miep's parents had found Adelaide in the office. It was not yet nine o'clock, and there was no one else there. They had shaken her by the hand and thanked her over and over again for the part she had played in Miep's rescue. The more they talked, the less she understood, and when at length the professor arrived, she had no hesitation in introducing them to him and slipping out of the room. Ten minutes later she walked quietly into the office again and wished the doctors good morning. Piet Beekman greeter her in his usual friendly way, but the professor, already sitting at his desk, gave her a baleful glance.
`How can you wish me a good morning after the shabby way you treated me just now? I am surprised at you, Sister. You ran away.'
Adelaide felt indignation swell inside her and began a hot denial, caught the professor's eye and said rather lamely:
`Well, you didn't need me, sir.'
The professor looked critically at his beautifully kept nails.
`On the contrary, Sister, I find your presence essential,' he said gently. He looked across at Piet. `Don't we, Piet?'
Dr Beekman agreed cheerfully. `Can't find a thing when you're off duty, Adelaide.'
She laughed. `What nonsense you talk! You just don't look.' She turned back to the professor, her starched apron crackling fiercely. `Are you ready to start, sir?'
She spoke in a bright, professional voice that caused both men to look up at her open mouthed; she had remembered, just in time, her resolve to be pleasantly friendly but cool, and very, very efficient.
The weather turned warm, the clinic seemed more crowded than ever. The shops were full of summer clothes, and holidays were the main topic of conversation.
Miep was nearly well again, and was going home in a day or so. Adelaide had bought her a new dress, ready for the great day, and took it along to the ward on the evening before Miep was to be discharged. The little girl was sitting up in her bed, playing Snakes and Ladders with the professor, who was lounging on the counterpane, thereby breaking a strict rule enforced by Zuster Zijlstra. He was demanding and accepting advice from the children in the nearby cots, and the noise was considerable. Zuster Zijlstra, writing her report as Adelaide went past her office, shrugged her shoulders and waved her on to the ward. She pushed open the door, took one look, and decided to go back later. Miep hadn't seen her, and the professor's head was bowed over the game. However, she had hardly got her hand on the door handle when he bellowed above the din: `Don't go away, Sister, I want to see you.'
Adelaide advanced towards the bed. The clinic had finished only an hour ago; she wondered what he could want her for, as he had had plenty of time to speak to her during the day. She hesitated when he patted the counterpane. `Sit down and don't be a goose. If I can break a rule, so can you.'
He spoke in Dutch, to the great delight ol' the children, who shouted 'Dag Zuster' in a deafening manner, and urged her to break the rules like the doctor. Outnumbered, she sat down gingerly on the side of the bed, to be immediately enveloped in Miep's excited embrace. The little girl had seen the dress over Adelaide's arm, and bounced wildly around the bed, hugging Adelaide until she cried for mercy.
`The doctor's taking me home,' Miep said importantly. `In his car.' She beamed at them both.
`Ah, yes.' The professor glanced at Adelaide. `We thought it would be nice if you came too. You're off duty tomorrow afternoon, aren't you? Dr Beekman will take the cl
inic.'
Adelaide wondered how he knew she was oI f duty, and realised that there was nothing t o stop him studying the off-duty rota in her office.
Miep was smiling at her coaxingly. `You must come, Adelaide.'
Adelaide smiled back at the child. `Yes, of course I'll come.' Her voice was warm and kind. She turned to the professor. `What time shall I be ready, and where shall I meet you, sir?' She was friendly and pleasant, but her voice was the voice of a Ward Sister addressing a consultant. Even in her own ears it sounded prim, and when the professor said quietly: `You're sure you want to come?' she cried. `Oh, yes, please!' with all the warmth back again, and quite forgetful of the role she had cast for herself.
