The Thursday clinic

by Anne Lorraine

  Harlequin�s Collection

  Sally had reason to be grateful to the medical profession, so she decided to become a nurse. But there came a time of real emotional conflict when her nursing integrity was threatened by her love for a well-known doctor!

  The special atmosphere of the hospital world is captured completely by ANNE LORRAINE as she reveals all its romance and drama.

  Originally published as Harlequin Romance #623 VarleqidnVooks TORONTO . LONDON NEW YORK AMSTERDAM SYDNEY WINNIPEG Original hardcover edition published by Mills & Boon Limited under the title The Thursday Clinic ISBN 0-373-00623-3 Harlequin edition published November 1961 This Harlequin's Collection edition printed 1976 A special note of interest to the reader Harlequin Books were first published in 1949. The original book was entitled The Manatee arid identified as Book No. 1 since then some two thousand titles have been published. As readers are introduced to Harlequin Romances, very often they wish to obtain older titles. To supply this demand, Harlequin prints an assortment of "old" titles every year. Some are made available to all bookselling stores via special Harlequin Jamboree displays. Others are appearing in the Harlequin's Coflection series. As these books are exact reprints of the original Harlequin Romances, you may indeed find a few typographical errors, etc., because we apparently were not as careful in our younger days as we are now. Nonetheless, we hope you enjoy this "old" reprint and apologize for any errors you may find. Copyright 1957byAnneLorraine. All rights reserved. Except tor use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher. All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not eveoxlistantly inspired byany individual known or unknown to the author, andall the incidents are pure invention. The Harlequin trademark, consisting of the word HARLEQUIN and the portrayal of a Harlequin, is registered in the United States Patent Office and in the Canada Trade Marks Office. Printed in Canada

  CHAPTER ONE

  SALLY MARTHORPE awoke to the sound of the ambulance bell. She stiffened instinctively, then, remembering that She was in bed and definitely not due on duty for another hour or more, she smiled at her own foolishness and relaxed. After a few minutes, however, she abandoned any hope of falling asleep for the short time remaining, and lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Today, at Merrison Hospital, she realized with some awe, she would be addressed as Sister Marthorpe, would take on the new duties as well as the new status. . In spite of herself, Sally felt the surge of pride that she had experienced ever since her first success at Merrison Hospital, and, almost without realizing what she was doing, she raised herself on one elbow and stared across at her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. The girl in the mirror gazed back at her, the fair, almost silvery hair ruffled around the small, sensitive face, giving it the look of a shy boy, the intensely blue eyes: eager, yet strangely afraid. Without realizing it, Sally frowned, spoiling the serenity of the high white brow, and giving a look of petulance to the softly curving lips. Suddenly annoyed with her own stupidity, she turned away from the mirror, and, punching her pillow impatiently, tried yet again to win back her disturbed sleep. Downstairs Sally's landlady, the homely and very plump Mrs. Grant, moved noisily, obviously attacking the housework with her usual early morning energy. Not much chance of rest once Mrs. Grant really started work, as Sally knew only too well, and she recalled the day when she had first been so fortunate as to find lodgings in this delightful little house, standing exactly opposite the hospital, and thus the ideal .place for a nurse to board. Not that everyone had shared her enthusiasm. Little Nurse Bachelor or "Batty" as she was known affectionately by her friends had stared at Sally with something approaching horror when Sally had told her of the intended lodgings. "Are you crazy, then?" the red-head demanded, with her usual frankness. "For pity's sake, don't you want to escape from the place when you've such a heaven-sent chance? Think of us poor mutts living in the darned place, eating, sleeping, dreaming, thinking, in these ugly walls, and envying everybody who. is allowed to live out! And what happens ? You go across the road, so near that I swear you could chuck a stone into the theatre window if so you'd a mind, and calmly proceed to dig in! Look, girl, I know a wonderful place, the other side of the town. Owned by a friend of mine nice girl, name of Frances she'd give you a room in her place, and you could really have fun " "I've already decided," Sally had smiled, flushing a little at the girl's incredulous Stare, "I I like the idea of being close to Merry's." "Then why the heck don't you live in?" Batty had demanded, with some irritation. "Give me half a chance, and I'll be off tomorrow. You just don't know how lucky you are to start here just when the nurses' block is full to overflowing. Matron won't rest until she has you under lock and key here in the hospital, you can bet your sweet life on that, sister! Much better to make the fullest-use of your freedom whilst you've got it. Any minute now a small two-by-two cupboard will be built on, and you will be informed that your 'room" pardon the expression! is ready and waiting for you!" Sally had laughed, but there had been no real amusement in her heart. Her one fear had been that Batty might discover the real reason why Sally had been so delighted to have the chance of living out instead of sharing the nurses' quarters with her friends. Nobody knew, other than the Matron herself, that Sally had asked the Matron if she could board out. Matron, accustomed to such requests from the more fun-loving nurses, had given her automatic refusal, then, glancing curiously at Sally's flushed, sensitive face she added, "But why do you ask? Have you not lived with other girls before? At school, for instance? what is your objection to the community life?" Sally had been miserably new, and equally shy. She had tried to bluster her way around the question, but the Matron's keen eyes had not wavered from the girl's face, and at last Sally had blurted out, almost incoherently, "I must have a home. Matron. I'm sorry but I must! You don't understand, of; course " The older woman had frowned, but her eyes had been kind. "I could try," she had offered, "but not unless you wish to tell me, my dear. You seem a sensible enough girl, otherwise you would not be sitting here after your interview, accepted as a probationer here. I've already warned you that Merrison Hospital asks a great deal of its nurses too much, indeed, of many of the young girls who are eager to come here, and far more eager to leave us after a few weeks! Actually, the nursing block is overfull at the moment, but I'd rather like to know why I should give you first chance of sleeping out. You say you must have a home plenty of your fellow-nurses are no doubt equally fond of their homes. Where is your home?" She began to turn over the papers on the desk before her, and Sally rose to her feet, her eyes filled with apology. "I I'm sorry " she had faltered childishly, "I didn't mean to fuss. Matron. I haven't got a home, not really." The Matron had not answered for a moment or two and then, having duly noted a few remarks on the papers dealing with the girl before her, she looked up and smiled atSally. r "You lost your parents, I see," she said quietly, "I think I understand now. But forgive me for trying to influence you, nurse don't you think the companionship and friendship of. life inside the hospital is just what you need? It would not be a family, I agree, but surely the next best thing to a home of your own? Lodgings can be very lonely "But Sally had held out against living on the premises, and at last Matron, with obvious reluctance, had granted her wish. "But as,, soon as you feel lonely," she had insisted, as the interview ended, "I want you to come to me and inquire about accommodation inside the hospital. Your promise, please?" Sally smiled now, gazing around the tiny r
oom which had been hers ever since that interview. Lonely? Of course she had been lonely a tiny shiver shook her slender frame momentarily but wasn't loneliness a small price to pay for these four walls which enclosed everything which made her an individual, a person, a member of a precious family? Swallowed up in the communal life of Merry's, she would have been one of a hundred or more nurses, a number, somebody who was unique amongst them all because, on days off and during duty-free hours, she would have nowhere to go, nobody to visit. Everyone would have noted that there was never any mail for her, no exciting parcels on birthdays and at Christmas, no telephone calls or urgent messages. ...From downstairs came the sound of the vacuum cleaner being pushed around the sitting-room. Sally sat up, hunching up her knees. She ran nervous fingers through her already ruffled hair, and tried to fight back the rush of forbidden memories which were clamouring for. admission to her frightened brain. It was weeks since they had won through her determined calm, she told herself frantically, aware that her teeth were beginning to chatter and if she was careful she could stop them now, before they overwhelmed her as once they had done. Her hands, now clasped tightly around her knees, grew damp and clammy and she ran her tongue over her dry lips, fighting for control. Hang the ambulance bell, for waking her early, and thus giving her a little time in which to remember ... and just when she had trained her rebellious thoughts into some kind of discipline, timing her waking hours to such exactitude that there was; simply no time for memories, or, for anything other than a -quick resume of the day's work ahead. It was by such living that she had made a comparative success of the past few years, had lulled herself into a false sense of security from fear ... But now the fears were surrounding her, mocking at her, screaming in her ears, pushing through the carefully erected defences with as much ease as if no barriers existed. She began to tremble,, even more violently, and she put her head on her knees, fighting helplessly for control. She did not hear the knock on her door, and when Mrs. Grant called her name Sally did not raise her head. The door opened, and the enormous woman came in, her face filled with motherly dismay, her tongue clicking against her teeth. She sat down on the side of the bed and put a strong arm around the shaking shoulders. "Now, now, what's all this?" she demanded reprovingly. "We can't have this kind of thing, not after all this time, you know. I was only thinking how splendid you had been, for months past, and now look at you! All right, my pretty " her arm tightened protectively as Sally turned and buried her face against the large bosom, "you just go ahead and cry as much as you like that's what folks like me are made for, .1 reckon! Can't think of any other reason why the good Lord should have seen fit to make me so much like a cushion!" "I I'm so sorry " Sally's voice came, muffled and hysterical, from the apron folds, "I I can't bear it it's no use telling me not to cry " i The older woman's face softened, but her voice did not. "I did no such thing," she said sharply, "I told you to go ahead, didn't I ? Though what you're going to look like, in an hour's time when you go on duty, just beats me. I'll have Matron over here, like as not, wanting to know if I've been hitting you about and you a brand-new Sister and all. Ought to look your best today of all. days, surely? Now, supposing you just tell me what's wrong " Sally did not see the woman's furtive glance at her wristwatch, not see her sniffling experimentally to discover what might be happening to the neglected breakfast preparations. She drew back from Mrs. Grant's arm and put her hands over her face. 11 "I'm so ashamed," she said bitterly, "I thought Id conquered it at last. It was Just that suddenly it a 1 came back to me " she shuddered violently. "It all began to happen over again, like it did before. I could even hear the car "Mrs. Grant sighed, but she gave no sign of her wish to return downstairs to the urgent business of stirring the porridge. Sally had had one of these upsets soon after she came to Mrs. Grant, and the woman had been scared enough to send for a doctor from Merry's. He had seemed to understand the whole scene at a glance, and after giving Sally a sedative he had smiled encouragingly at Mrs. Grant "Let her talk," he had advised the woman firmly, ' if this happens again and I've no doubt it will then let her talk It's Nature's safety valve in cases of this kind. The poor child has spent years trying to push all that happened into the back of her mind, and it has lain there, festering, ever since. What you're witnessing now is just a sudden escape of poison, accumulated over many months. The more often it is allowed to escape, the better. Talk that's the finest medicine. Not too much pity, mind just be a listener, that's all she needs, poor child." And so Mrs. Grant had listened, as she was listening now and her heart had twisted in pain for the weeping, shivering girl who had nursed the pitiful story so long, Mrs Grant abandoned all idea of saving the porridge. "The car?" she prompted gently. "You mean the car which ran into your father's car?" , Sally kept her hands over her face as she began to tabs, swiftly and eagerly. "We'd had such fun," she said hurriedly. We alwayshad fun. Mother and Daddy and I no matter what we did it was always fun. They were like that, you see, and I well, I thought it would always be that way. We d been to a party-ouite a small affair, really, but we'd laughed a lot and Mother and Daddy had danced. They loved each other so much 1 don't think two people could ever have loved more than they did. You might think I felt left outside but that was the strange thing it wasbecause they loved so deeply that they saw me as a sort of symbol of their love, I think. It sounds silly, I suppose but that s 12 how I think of it, looking back. They seemed so young that night, too I remember Daddy had just been saying that Mother had been the prettiest' girl at the party and we were all laughing. . . ." Her voice shook ominously, then steadied again as she went on doggedly. "I think Daddy saw the car first. The driver was drunk." Mrs. Grant winced at the bitterness of the young voice, the merciless of the colorless lips. "He came straight towards us dazzled by our lights, I suppose. My father threw himself across me just as the crash came." Mrs. Grant waited, but she knew there was more to come yet. Sally was staring back down the years now her young back taut and stiff, her face haggard. ' o "He was killed," she whispered, entirely oblivious of her companion now, anxious only to talk to herself. "Killedoutright. Poor Daddy. But he was the lucky one, actually. They say my mother took a long time to die 1 believe she kept alive by sheer will-power, in case I might need her. But she couldn't wait for me ... she couldn't wait. Perhaps she knew I was crying for her, that I was frightened, and alone " "I am sure she didn't know that, child " "She might have done," Sally said woodenly. "Peopleknow more than you suppose, when they are terribly ill. Anyway, she died. I wanted to die, too. Oh, dear God, how I wanted to die! I was so frightened, so lonely__" Mrs. Grant sniffed, determined not to allow her own tears to fall. She got up from the bed, and looked down at Sally's fair head. "But you didn't die!" she said briskly. "That's the great thing to remember, isn't it? Your father saved your life, my girl, and don't you forget it. He didn't sacrifice himself in order that you might spend the remainder of your life whimpering, did he? Maybe he thought you worth saving 'ever realized that?" Sally jerked upright, and for a moment Mrs. Grant saw the bright anger in the girl's eyes. Then, with a strangely childlike gesture of appeal, Sally held out her hands to the woman. "You must wish you'd never set eyes on me!" she said contritely. "How many times have you had to go through 13 this orgy of self-pity, Grantie? I can't think what started it today of all days. And merciful heavens " she glanced with horror at the bedside clock, "look at the time! I'll be late on duty a good .beginning to my new dignity, hm? Oh, Grantie " she sprang out of bed and put her arms about the enormous figure of her landlady, "what a darling you are! You should have bad a horde of children to fuss over and mother " Mrs. Grant merely pursed her lips. "That's as maybe," she said curtly, "but I didn't, so we won't waste time over that little matter. Now you jump into your uniform like a good girl, and I'll have your breakfast or what's left of it, in just two shakes of a lamb's tail. No more fretting, mind promise? You've told me the whole story again, and got it off your chest, so now rest easy, like a good girl. It's all over and done with, and all the tears in t
he world won't alter it. Hurry up, now .I'll expect you in two minutes sharp." Sally laughed, her nervous attack passed. True, her head throbbed slightly, and her eyes, as she realized ruefully, bore very obvious signs of the distress she had experienced, but apart from those physical details, she felt calm and serene again. Poor Mrs. Grant, she thought, as she dressed swiftly, but neatly, how weary she must grow of that old, old story! She must know it off by heart, word for word, from beginning to end. . . . Sally paused, the brush held above her hair, and for a moment she stared at her own reflection, a secret little smile touching her lips. Not quite the end, she thought eagerly. Nobody, nobody in all the world, knew the real end of the story, except herself. Out of that bleak, tragic little story had come one beautiful memory, one glimmer of light. She brushed her hair carefully, instinctively counting the brush-strokes as her mother had taught her to do, and as she did so she allowed herself the luxury of rounding off her story. This, she told herself eagerly, was her reward for fighting back those other memories so long. She had experienced the pain and grief again why should she deny herself the solace of the end? 14 She stood there, recapturing the mood she had been in when, on that never-to-be-forgotten night, she had so longed to die. Only fifteen years of age, yet she had realized she v as near the end. She had been frightened for what seemed to be an interminably long time, and it had been dark all the time. In- a panic of pain and bewilderment, the fear of blindness had seemed to be the last straw, and she must have cried out. Then it was that she felt strong fingers close around her hand. She had clutched at them despairingly, thinking for one wonderful moment that her father had come at last,, or her mother. But she knew, even in the darkness, that it was a strange hand, one that had never comforted her before. Then had come a voice, a man's voice, strong as the hold on her hand. "Come along, Sally," the voice had urged patiently, "don't be a coward, now you've fought so well until now don't let go. Don't let go Sally I'm holding you. Keep a tight hold on me. Sally, and you'll be all right, I promise. Come along, Sally stay with me hold on , ', . hold on . . HOLD ON ... ." And she had held on. Through strange dark hours she had clung to that unknown hand and in so doing had clung to life. At last, in sheer exhaustion, she had fallen into her first natural sleep, and had wakened to the feel of the hand, still holding hers. "Good girl, Sally," the voice had whispered in the darkness. Would it never be light again? "You've done splendidly go to sleep again now. Bless you." When she awoke again, the hand no longer held hers. She called out at once, wanting the reassurance of those strong fingers. Somebody had spoken her name, and she had moved her head restlessly, longing with all her being to see who it was who had dragged her back to life. Suddenly it was light. Her eyes were open, and, blinking and frowning, she knew she could see. Such a rush of thankfulness filled her that she began to tremble helplessly, and she turned her head towards the voice. "I can see " she began eagerly, then stopped, a smile of absolute devotion on her lips. A young doctor sat on the chair beside her, his keen eyes fixed upon her, a tolerant 15 smile on his lips. She blinked several times, rapidly, and he picked up her wrist to feel her pulse. "I thought I was blinded," she told him shyly, "but I'm not I can see perfectly. I suppose I couldn't see my mother now? And my father, of course? I feel so much better, you see " He patted her hand, his handsome face troubled. She had stared at him in some bewilderment, concerned at his distress, but anxious, in that moment, to register his beloved features on her mind's eye. He must be a very young doctor, she had thought wonderingly, and he was very handsome, too. His hair was almost black, and his thin, tanned face gave him a rather foreign appearance. She would tell Mother all about him . . . Mother must like him, too, and admire him. She had never seen him again. They told her, much later, after she had recovered a little from the shock of the' news they had to tell her, that he had been a visiting doctor who happened to be on duty when she was brought in. Gradually, through a long, .tiresome convalescence, she had remembered him in every detail, and had more op less persuaded herself back' to health because she felt she owed it to him. He had saved her life once she must never forget that wonderful fact. In some way, one day, she would repay her debt to him. Just before she left the hospital, to go to live with an elderly, and rather resentful, aunt. Sally had plucked up courage enough to ask the doctor's name. The little nurse, of whom she Inquired, had laughed teasingly. "Another conquest?" She' mocked. "Dear me even the teen-agers are falling for our Lawrence now! You have no idea of the competition you'll have, my dear Sally, if you lose your heart to Dr. Laurence Chesfield. You'll soon forget him and all of us, believe me. Patients always do "Sally had regarded the nurse serenely. "I shall not," she said decisively. "I'll never forget him. He saved my life, and one day I shall be like him and,save lives too. I'm going to be a nurse, you see. I've just decided." 16 , Her aunt had tried to laugh her out of it, but that failed. She had grown angry, but that had failed, too. When she realized that' under the deceptively docile little smile dwelt an absolute little devil of obstinacy. Sally's aunt tried other tactics that of pleading. "After all," she had said woefully, "you must admit you owe me something, Sally. I took you in when you were homeless, remember. There's nothing to be made at this nursing game you'll soon forget about it once you have a good job which will bring you in a good mcome. I can speak to my banker he will help, I'm sure. You must put all this absurd wish to be a nurse out of your mind, dear,. I know you think it all sounds glamorous, and so on, and that you are grateful to the hospital but 'after all, that's what doctors and nurses are for, to heal people, aren't they? You mustn't let your gratitude go to your head. Show your gratitude to me, instead of to a lot of strangers " But it had all been .useless. Sally's life was already arranged, so far as she was concerned. In her low, sensitive condition, after the crisis when the doctor had seemed literally to pull her back to life, she had idolized him in her heart, set him up as the acme of perfection, towards which she must aim if she was to find happiness in life at all. What he had done, so must she try to do in ao matter how small and insignificant a way. By entering his world, she would at least bask in his reflected glory, know that she was living in the same environment as he, liking, the same things, sharing the same ideals. And so she had succeeded in getting her way at last. Her aunt, finally washing her hands of the whole business, had allowed Sally to use the money left by her parents for her education. Then, considering her duty done, she had sent Sally to stay with acquaintances in London and proceeded to merge herself once again in her own affairs. From then onwards, Sally had worked with only one aim in view to become a nurse and live in 'the same wolid as Dr. Laurence Chesfield. Hearing from her new friends that the Merrison Hospital, on the outskirts of London, was famous throughout the country for its go-ahead 17 .ideas and its excellently equipped rooms, she made up her mind to apply there before any other hospital. "The matron is the worst kind of sergeant-major," a well-meaning woman had told her anxiously. "Don't go there, my dear. They say she has no compunction in getting '. rid of a nurse who doesn't measure up to her requirements. You'd have to work like a slave and I always say it isn't worth it, not for what they pay you! I knew a girl who worked there, once, and she stuck it for three months, and, believe -me, she said she hadn't had a moment's peace from when she entered the doors." "But if a nurse has been to Merrison Hospital," Sally said doggedly, "she can claim to be a good nurse, or so I've heard. I want to be a good nurse." "You'll be sorry " the woman had threatened, annoyed to find her good advice spurned by this slip of a girl, "oh, you'll be sony you ever walked through the gates of Merrison Hospital, believe me!" "Sorry!" Sally straightened her apron, and smiled at herself happily. She loved Merrison Hospital with an almost fierce ,sense of belonging. Ugly, badly designed, awkwardly placed,.. and hopelessly inconveniently planned so far as transport was concerned, Merrison Hospital was perched defiantly on the hill and it positively ruled the busy little town around it. Growing from a small cottage hospital,, catering for a few hundred people, it had grown as the town grew a
wing added here, an outside clinic added there, new X-ray apparatus installed in a queer shack-like building, a long, covered-in walk connecting a brick-built ward with a corrugated iron constmcton which had somehow become a dispensary a strange, almost farcical collection of buildings, which nevertheless were rhe'pride of the town and the envy of half the countryside. Nurses who survived the hardships of Merrisons were coveted by other hospitals and nursing institutions. They wore their experience of Merrison as proudly as a soldier wears his medals. Doctors came to Merrisons eagerly, knowing that their knowledge and experience would be improved within those ugly red-brick walls. And over the entire establishment ruled the Matron insisting on absolute obedience, unquestioning loyalty, unchanging efficiency, 18 and on utter devotion to the hospital, no matter what it cost in time or energy. She was ruthless, domineering, impatient but scrupulously honest and absolutely just. Probationers were frightened to death of her, and often fled from the hospital after a few weeks of what they termed "slavery." Nurses either loathed or admired her. Doctors swore about her, but never at her and it was a strange fact that when a doctor was in doubt, or in trouble, or even just plain tired, he usually turned instinctively towards the Matron's door, knowing that there he would have his problem solved, his trouble belittled, his tiredness helped by a scalding-hot cup of almost black tea!' The nurses who stayed long enough to earn Matron's approval found in her unexpected depths of compassion, and, much to their surprise, of humor. Sally, after deciding at least fifteen times that she could not bear another day under the same roof as the Matron, now recognized her as a very real friend. After a hurried breakfast, Sally put on her cloak and left for the hospital. Mrs. Grant, who came to the door with her, called after her as she opened the gate. "It'll be a good day," she said encouragingly. "My feet are bad today, and that always means a good day. Will you be late, or early?" Sally turned back to laugh at her. "As if I would know!" she scoffed lightly. Just expect me when you see me, as always. Good-bye, Mrs. Grant'" She ran across the road and in at the hospital gates. Three ambulances were standing in the yard, and a few doctors' cars were already parked carefully in the spaces marked "No Parking!" Sally, with a smile, recognized one of them as belonging to Alan Trenton, a young doctor who was resident at the hospital. Knowing his careful obedience to rules, Sally guessed that one of the more irresponsible doctors, or students, had moved Alan's car in order to make more room for his own. If she saw him she would warn him, or there might be trouble in store for him. She pushed open the swing doors which, in spite of the growth of the hospital and of the number of patients daily using the entrance, remained as narrow and cumbersome as in the -days when the hospital had been little larger than 19 ~ a private house. Pausing, as always, Sally glanced up at the little statue above the doorway aj young woman with a babe in her arms. There was something strangely comforting about the simple figure, and many a patient, filled with fear at what lay ahead, had glanced up at the statue and felt at peace Once inside Merry's, however, there was little time for anything but a complete concentration on the work in hand. Sally, after a quick glance at the Day Board, on which the nurses' duties were posted each morning, made her way up the narrow stairway to the first floor. A young nurse, coming out of the men's surgical ward. greeted her merrily, then bit her lip in obvious dismay. "Oh, sorry. Sister," she said awkwardly. "Just for the moment I forgot I mean " Sally smiled easily,'remembering how she had made the same stupid blunder when a friend had been made a Sister. "That's all right, nurse," she said quietly. "Is Dr. Trenton about?" The nurse, relieved by Sally's tone, smiled happily. "I saw him a moment ago going up to "the children's floor," she said. "He's rather early on his rounds this morning." Sally nodded, and made to go up to the children's wards. The entire top floor of the hospital had been given over to the children, for the Matron knew only too well what a noisy element even sick children could be, and also just how restraining an influence a strict observance of silence can be to the home-sick child! With her usual tact and understanding, therefore, she had given over the top floor to her young patients, and was happily aware that the noise was thus confined to one part of the hospital, and even in the middle of the night a crying child would not disturb the more restful adult patients. At the top of the stairs Sally opened a heavy baizecovered door, and the full impact of about fifty children burst upon her. Smiling, she went to the first ward and glanced inside, hoping to see Alan Trenton. A nurse, valiantly trying to hold one small child whilst she placated a crimson-faced little boy whose one aim seemed to be to 20 climb out of his cot, turned a harassed face towards Sally, and smiled helplessly. "Doctor is in Angel Ward, I think," she called, trying to make herself heard above the din. "Sorry Sister, but I can't leave these two " Sally laughed, and went from the ward to look elsewhere for the young doctor. When she found him at last, he was bending over a young boy who was flat on his back-with his legs in plaster. The boy was surveying the doctor with obvious interest, and as Sally joined them she realized that they were discussing football. The doctor did not stop speaking, merely paused to turn to smile at Sally before finishing his tall? with the young patient. Then, straightening his back, he greeted her shyly. He was of medium height, his features homely, sometimes almost taciturn, and at first appearance was far more like the popular conception of a farmer tnan of a doctor. Many people, meeting him for the first time, found him shy and reserved to the point of rudeness, and it wasn't until he was seen with his young patients that one realized the strength in his thin, boyish face, the kindness and understanding in the steady grey eyes. Nurses had been known to make fun of him behind his back, to imitate the slight stammer which affected him at times of excitement or nervous strain, but there was not one amongst the staff who did not turn to him when they needed his advice, or when an emergency arose demanding a cool judgment and calm decision. "Good morning, Sister," he teased her. "I wanted to see you to congratulate you. How does it feel to be a fully fledged Sister at last?" She smiled, flushing slightly. "Not very different, so far, doctor,'" she admitted mefully. "I still feel I should curtsey when I meet Matron just as I did the first time I came for an interview! I honestly believe that were I made Assistant Matron I'd feel just as idiotic and untrained in her presence. How are all the patients this morning? By the way," she lowered her voice, glancing round anxiously to make sure they were unobserved, "your car did you know it is parked 21 right in the middle of the No Parking area? If Matron sees it, there'll be trouble " He started, and his eyes narrowed in surprise. "You came right up here to warn me?" he asked slowly. "But that was kind of you. Sister. Somebody has moved it, I suppose it quite often happens. Sister Sally I've been hoping to see you. I I wondered if you would have dinner with me one evening, quite soon? We have so little chance to talk " She frowned, not realizing she was doing so. A faint irritation arose in her, although she could not have explained why. After all, why on.' earth shouldn't the doctor invite her to dinner? They had been friends long .enough, in all conscience, and even though Matron frowned on any suggestion of flirtation between members of her staff, surely she could not object to old friends dining together, even though they happened to work together? It was just that gossip started up so easily, and, once started, was difficult, if not impossible, to quell. She wanted to accept the invitation, of course, but "Look, Sally " she heard the tinge of disappointment in his quiet voice, "you don't have to decide right away. Let me know. I quite realize that you don't have a lot of spare time, and what you do have is undoubtedly booked up to the hilt. All right " he turned immediately as a child called to him, "coming. Tommy. Goodbye for now. Sister." She went slowly down the ward away from him absurdly upset by his swift dismissal of the matter,' and equally upset by a growing conviction that she had behaved rather badly. After all, what on earth had possessed her to act for all the world like a shy young schoolgirl being invited out on her first "date"? Dr. Trenton would probably think she was attaching far too much importance to a casual invitation ... he might even suppose she was bei
ng "coy"! But that was ridiculous, and she knew it. Alan Trenton was a good friend, and she liked him. He liked her it was as simple as that, yet she had to go and make a fool of herself just because he asked her out for a meal! . He liked her ... but was that all? She paused on her 22 way downstairs, frowning in some dismay as she allowed a suspicion which had long been in her mind to come out into the open. Was Alan Trenton falling in love with her? And, if he was, what was she going to do about it? "Ah, there you are, Sister " Sally started, and knew a rush of relief as she saw Theatre Sister coming towards her. ' "Good morning" she said brightly, glad to dismiss the worrying thoughts from her mind. "Did you want me?" Theatre Sister, a tall, thin young woman, with a wealth of reddish-gold hair tucked into her cap, looked pale and ill, and Sally, even as the woman was talking to her about a case .they had shared recently, wondered if the Sister was really fit to be on duty. "You look tired," she said impulsively, when they had discussed the case thoroughly. "Why don't you ask for sick-leave? I believe there is some due to you " "I don't happen to be ill," the woman snapped irritably. "I wish people wouldn't .fuss. Just an occasional headache, that's all. Thanks for your advice, my dear I must fly now. There's a list of ops as long as your arm today, and the first in less than an hour. See you later much, much later, I expect!" Sally stood for a moment gazing after the tall woman with a good deal of concern in her eyes. She had known, and liked, Joan Burtrand for a good many years indeed, they had done quite a lot of their training together, and she had watched the change in the woman, during recent months, with a good deal of fear. Joan was devoted to her work, and it was possible, even probable, that her determination to stay on duty was urging her to profess to a good state of health, when this was not the case. After a moment Sally went on her way, trying to forget all personal matters so that she could give her full mind and attention to the work on hand. It was her morning for the ear, nose and throat clinic, and, as she went down the covered passage-way which led from the main building to the tin hut where the clinic was held, she unconsciously braced herself for the hectic hours ahead. As she pushed open the doors of the waitingroom a hubbub of, conversation came out to meet her, and 23 she saw, with some dismay, that every seat was occupied by "a patient. Hastily summing up the situation, she reckoned that the consultations would take at least three hours, and- she frowned worriedly, remembering that the old doctor whose job it was to deal with this particular clinic had been far from well of late, and was more than anxious to retire as soon as-a successor could be found to take on the job . "As if any young chap in his right mind would want it!" the old man had exclaimed, more than once; in Sally's hearing. "It's as near bedlam as any human being is likely to get, to my way of thinking! Eternally peering into ears, and up noses, and down throats what a job for an able-bodied man, hm?" Not that Sally had been very impressed by old Dr. Tring's sceptical remarks. She had worked with him long enough to know that he was devoted to his job, and that the thought of the pending retirement nagged at him like an aching tooth. She wondered, not for the first time, who would come in the old man's place, and whether he would be as pleasant to work with. Tring had been a great help to her, especially since she had admitted to him that her work in his clinic interested her more than any, other field of medicine. "You're a fool, girl," he had said, the first time she told him this, "but a nice one." He'd studied her thoughtfully for a moment, and then said gruffly, "If I were only thirty years younger I'd be making a jolly good effort to get you to marry me. I could have done with a wife like you when I was beginning this job. Queer thing, isn't it the way a young doctor usually loses his head to a young flibbertygibbet who doesn't know a stethoscope from a blood-pump? Ah, well that's the way of it, I suppose. Anyway, what's all this talk about studying ears and noses, eh? You're young, healthy, reasonably pretty' where does marriage fit into the picture?" "It doesn't," she told him with all the confidence and assurance of the very young. "I'm going to demote my life to nursing. That's all I want from life." It hadn't been tfue not even then. And now? She automatically checked up on the new patients, sorting them 24 out from the others who had been attending for some time, and when the probationer, whose job it was to see that the patients kept strictly to rotation, came towards her, she tried to dismiss the stupid question from her mind. Yet, throughout the morning, even when she was watching Dr. Tring examining a particularly obstinate case of ostitis, the taunting little question kept nudging her mind, demanding an answer. What place did marriage play in her plans today? If Alan Trenton should propose as she was almost sure he would what would be her answer? She was a Sister now, with a splendid career ahead of her if she wanted it and surely that was exactly what she did want, had always wanted? Ever since that night, or early dawn, when she had wakened to find the doctor patiently helping her back to life, she had dedicated her life to the service he so wonderfully followed. She had wanted, more than anything in the world, to be like him, to be able to help the sick and the dying, to carry the gift of healing when she could and the balm of compassion when all else failed. She had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams, and now, on the threshold of still greater achievement, why this persistent, irritating doubt? Naturally she must go on would she not be betraying all her ideals if she let go now? It was lonely, of course but hadn't the Matron warned her, right at the beginning of this career, that loneliness was only a small part of the price to be paid in this particular vocation? Well, she had grown used to loneliness hadn't she? Just because Alan Trenton wanted to marry her, need that fill her with such doubt, such fear for the future? The answer she would give was a foregone conclusion. Firstly, she felt no love for him, only a very sincere friendship; and secondly, she did not mean to give up her work for any man; from what she knew of Alan Trenton, he was scarcely the type of man to look kindly upon the idea of his wife working, and even were he that type, she doubted whether she herself really agreed with the' idea of combining work and marriage for any woman. Marriage, to her way of thinking, was a full-time career if it was to be successful, as her parents' marriage had been. When the last patient had gone, Sally gave the probationer a few instructions regarding clearing up the 25 waiting-room, then went to the canteen for a hurried lunch. Most of her friends had already eaten, and so she had the rare chance of lunching alone. She had developed a slight headache during the busy morning, and was quite glad of this opportunity to be quiet and to think over Alan Trenton's dinner invitation. She must not delay her answer to it for- long, as she knew, and rhe realization of a decision still to be made worried her to an unreasonable extent. Somehow, since the morning, she Had felt unusually depressed, which was odd, considering it was the first day of her. coveted new status. Maybe it- was the result of her early-morning upset, she told herself firmly, but this possibility did little to dispel her strange restlessness and the unusual sense o'f despondency. The afternoon did not hold out very much of interest, for she was on duty in the "chronics" ward a duty which consisted mainly of keeping a kindly eye on the collection of very old women. It was not that she did not care foii the patients themselves she had a deep and abiding pity for these poor, lonely old souls, but she knew from past experience that they needed to draw on the youthful strength of whoever was in charge of them, and she did not feel in the right spirit to fulfil this obligation to her own satisfaction. However, she must do her best to be bright and cheerful, and maybe, during the quiet spell of undemanding duty, she could come to some decision about the doctor's invitation. She got up to go, smiling good-bye to a few late-comers' who were still eating, and turned towards the push-doors leading out to the main corridor of the nurses' block. Even as she put out a hand towards the glass, the other door swung violently inwards and a small probationer, her cap askew, her face crimson and tear-blotched, almost collided with Sally. This near-collision only heightened her nervous tension, and not altogether to Sally's surprise the girl burst into tears. "Matron wants you " she told Sally, stuttering badly in her distress. "I've been all over the hospital I couldn't f
ind you she'll be so angry but I could could couldn't help it " Sally had a smile of compassion, and put a steadying hand on the girl's thin shoulder. She knew, only too well, 26 I just what sort of panic was upsetting this slip of a sirl Obviously she had been subjected to a few of Matron's most scathing remarks! "And you've found me," Sally said calmly "Another time try to remember that you can always have me called hasn't anybody explained that to you yet? You speak to Miss Grainger, on the switchboard, and she sets to work having a person "called" all over the hospital Under. stand?" I The girl's eyes widened in dismay. "I thought that was only for important people_I mean y... doctors and specialists, you know 1 didn't mean to be I rude, Sister " |1 "I'm sure you didn't; but remember another time it | will save you lots of energy, and incidentally, quite a h, lot of time. Where is Matron, and where does she wish 1 .me to go?" "She's in the Sister's room just outside Theatre," the girl gulped anxiously. "There seems to be a spot of bother there I'm not sure what's happened, but Matron seems upset, and I happened to be passing, and so__" This time Sally found it difficult to keep back a smile of understanding and sympathy. This poor iittle scrap was going trough the agonies of realizing that a probationer had to learn the hard way that she was fair game for every nurse, Sister, and staff member in the hospital that she could always be "borrowed" as a messenger odd-job girl, or stooge! "Then supposing we go to Theatre right away," she said quietly. "But first, I wish you would go out to 'Chronics' you know where it is, of course? Tell them I shall be delayed, I do not know for how long, but that I art with Matron at her request. Nurse Hollerton is already on duty there ask her to stay until I come. Then return to Theatre in case Matron wishes to see you." ' As soon as the girl had sped on her way, Sally hurried towards the Theatre. As she walked down the corridor towards the section devoted to the operating theatre, she passed the librarian, on her knees before the cupboard holding her books. The girl, whom Sally knew well turned and grinned at her impishly. ' 27 "Judging by the number of tear-filled eyes that have passed me during the past ten minutes, Sister," she whispered conspiratorially, "I'd hazard a guess that our Matron is somewhat perturbed, to put it mildly. Some V.I.P. arrived to do an op and, from all accounts, Theatre Sister has swooned, or collapsed, or generally misbehaved herself. The patient has been wheeled up and down this corridor so many times I should- imagine the trolley will go of its own accord next time!" Sally frowned, recognizing the real concern behind the librarian's somewhat flippant exaggerations. So" Theatre Sister was ill, just as she had supposed,? She had been a fool not to report sick an incident like this was apt to upset Matron for a week at least, and to make the lives of everybody in Merry's not at all worth living, in consequence.Matron "herself was in the Sister's office to greet Sally. Her face was pale with displeasure, and she spared little time in details. "I want you to take over from Theatre Sister," she said shortly. "I warned Sister last week that she must tak