CHAPTER TWO
"SISTER, what is it? Please let me help you " Sally had no idea how long she had been standing there, staring at the surgeon, but his words shook her out of her trancelike immobility, and she managed an apologetic "I am so sorry," she offered lamely, aware that her heart was thumping uncomfortably fast, "it was'just that well, I had no idea it was you, and I've always admired your work so very much, sir. I it was just the unexpectedness of meeting you again " "Again?" his eyes were quizzical now. Then we have met before, Sister? At some other operation, of course. It's strange if that is so, since I seldom forget anybody who works with me. Where was it here at Merry's? Must have been some years ago " "Yes yes, it was," she seized on his words eagerly, accepting, with unreasonable reluctance, the obvious fact that he did not remember her. For a forlorn moment she had nourished the-hope thai, their one and only former meeting might have lingered in his memory as it had done in hers but what an absurdity! No doctor on earth could be expected to remember the face of every patient he had ever attended it would be fantastic. Yet she pushed back the last lingering hope impatiently. He did not remember her, and there was nothing surprising in that simple fact. She had met him again, spoken to him, even been praised by him, and what more could she ask of Fate than that? Aware that he was still watching her, waiting for her to explain mbre fully, she blurted out , 32 anxiously, "It was at another hospital I'm afraid I don't even remember the name. I was much younger then of course. I have followed your work as closely as' I could in the medical papers, and so on. I have always wished I could work with you on an actual operation, and now " she laughed shyly, "well, I suppose the delight of realizing my ambition was too much for me. I do apoloeize Mr Chesfield." ' -He put his hand to his hair in a gesture she was to come to know well. "I can't see why on earth you, should feel called upon to apologize for what is, after all, very pleasant flattery, Sister! I had no idea I had fans isn't that the word? watching my career as closely as you claim to do. As regards your work, I can only assure you that now I have worked beside you I hope it will not be long before we work together again. I shall certainly make a point of asking Matron -if you can assist me whenever I come to Merry's." She flushed hotly, feeling stupidly like a schoolgirl. Coming so soon after the unexpected meeting this fulsome praise was almost overwhelming. She clasped her hands tightly behind her back, that he might not witness thenbetraying trembling. ; "That is most kind," she began, but he shook his head, his eyes teasing her kindly. "I'm not kind," he told her with mock gravity. "Ask anyone who has worked with me, and they'll put you wise on that score, my dear Sister. I am a real menace once I find somebody useful to my work, I warn you. Once I become really enthusiastic about a nurse, I have no- compunction about working her to death." They laughed together, and then, as he glanced at his wristwatch, Chesfield gave a sharp exclamation; "Merciful heavens! We were late starting on this op, and that means I have scarcely time to take advantage of Matron's hospitality in the wav, of coffee. Sister__" she looked up at him swiftly, as he spoke her name impulsively, "look here, isn't there any way of getting a cup of coffee quickly, without bothering to go through the long-drawn33 out ceremony of visiting Matron? I have another appointment almost immediately, and I can make my excuses to Matron tonight, when I look in on my small patient. Do help me if you can, my dear?" She thought swiftly, wondering rather impatiently just what Matron would think of this unorthodox behavior on the part of a very new and very excited Sister. Then she made her decision impetuously, disregarding the doubt that nudged at her mind. "Yes, I think I can help you, Doctor," she said swiftly. "If you like I can have coffee brought to you in the small waiting-room next door. It is the room we use for visiting relatives who are anxious about the results of an operation. It's small, but nobody would disturb you, I promise." For a moment he regarded her with some amusement, then he smiled at her easily. "You're an angel," he said frankly. "I can never be grateful enough, Sister. It would save me a great deal of precious time." Without another word Sally went into the Theatre Sister's room and phoned through to the canteen. In less than five minutes a tray had been brought to the office, and Sally, after a brief and approving inspection of the contents, carried it into the little room where Dr. Chesfield waited. He was standing at the window, gazing down into the courtyard, but when she entered he turned at once, glancing at her and then at the tray with obvious satisfaction. "There's only one thing wrong," he said in some surprise. "Only one cup. Sister. You don't imagine I can sit and drink alone?" She fingered her apron awkwardly, and did not dare to look at him. "But I couldn't," she began nervously, "I am on duty, sir, and I must report back to Matron. I think I should be going now, if you don't mind." He stirred his coffee thoughtfully, then looked at her flushed fcae. "I do mind, Sister. Please sit down, just for a moment 0 two. I would so much like to discuss die operation with 34 you. You see " he duly noted her stare of surprise, "it is seldom a surgeon meets with such skill and concentration as I met with in you today. I had the feeling that I had a real partner beside me, that you were sharing not only the actual work, but my thoughts, my intentions, you seemed almost to anticipate my requests, and that is something a surgeon often dreams of finding, but seldom, if ever, does find. You obviously take you work very seriously indeed. What made you become a nurse in the first place?" She licked her lips nervously, wishing that she could find some way out of this embarrassing interview. It was one thing to meet Laurence Chesfield again, but, since he did not even remember her, it was not easy to be asked such questions as the one just mentioned. Supposing, she thought for one crazy moment, supposing she told him, in simple honesty, "Frock up this work because I owe my life to you, because I have always thought of you as the most wonderful man in the world. I am happy now, beyond the telling, because I have met you again, and because you are all, and more than, I remembered!" She sat down opposite him, realizing that he was waiting patiently for her reply. "Oh, I don't know " she began vaguely, "it is difficult to pin-point any special moment when one decides upon a career, isn't it? I suppose I just like the idea of helping people, of healing them, comforting them." He seemed disappointed, and faintly disbelieving. "One finds it difficult to imagine you making halfhearted decisions, Sister," he said frankly. "A ditherer could not carry out her work as you did in the theatre. Of course, it was impertinent of me to ask you such a question. I know myself I detest being asked why I became a doctor, and a surgeon. But perhaps another question will be easier to answer. Tell me what you mean to do, now that you have come so far? Do you intend to stay on in hospital, or specialize, or try for private work, or what?" She began to talk to him, awkwardly at first, then, unconsciously feeling his real interest, with more eagerness. Having had no family to share her enthusiasm for nursing, it was particularly encouraging to her to findi this impor35 tant man so sincerely concerned in her welfare and plans. , Once or twice she had tried to talk to Alan Trenton about her work,-but he always flatly refused to talk "shop out_ side the hours of duty, a fact which had faintly irritated her in the past but of which she had been almost unaware. Living on her own, she had small opportunity of talking about her work with anyone, even other nurses, and now, with so appreciative an audience, she let loose the stream of eager ideas which ha-d been simmering in her mind for a long time and, though she did not know it, the man opposite her listened with increasing surprise, and a certain indulgent amusement. Presently, however, the amusement faded, to be replaced by a definite pleasure. Suddenly, and with a sense of shock, Sally realized what she was doing, and she stopped abruptly, blushing with embarrassment. She pushed back her chair, and stood up, smoothing down her apron with nervous hands. "I don't know what came over me," she began contritely, "I ran only blame the operation. Most of us have a certain amount of shock, after a tricky op, and mine seems to take the form of too much talking. . . ." He sighed, smiled a trifle ruefully, and stood up. He regarded her with a flattering understanding. "I know exactly how you feel, Sister," he said quietly, and rather surprisi
ngly. "One always feels afraid of per_ Sonal enthusiasm. I do myself. Many and many a time I catch myself launching out into a detailed description of a case, only to discover, after a very long time, that my hearer is almost dazed with boredom, and obviously wishes he'd never met' me. But you need have no fear on that score today, my dear. I cannot remember when I have encountered such sincere fervor. I only wish " he glanced once again at his watch, "how I wish we might talk a little longer. There is a case I would particularly like to discuss with you. That sounds odd, maybe," he went on, as she frowned incredulously, "but you know I have often felt the interchange of ideas between doctor and nurse is far too restricted by petty rules and regulations, by this formal etiquette on which hospitals insist." He smiled boyishly, his eyes twinkling with fun. "I know that all 36 g Matrons are born with the certain conviction that every |. time a doctor and nurse exchange more than twenty formal I phrases they are in the midst of a highly inflammable I flirtation, but it makes things very difficult for those who I would honestly appreciate a good heart-to-heart discussion, I don't you agree?" I "I do indeed," Sally began indignantly. "Sometimes it | makes me real angry, the way one is watched in case j one dares to presume to have any ideas that could possibly I interest anybody other than oneself. I like to really under. | stand my cases, my patients, and how can one do that | unless one is in free communication with the doctor in | harge?" I He laughed, once more by her intensity. He glanced | ruefully at the tray, then again at his watch. I "Then we must talk some other time," he declared warmly. "I shall insist upon that, Matron or no Matron. And that next time must be quite soon. Sister, agreed? I would truly like your views on a matter which I have been studying for some time past. I would welcome an unbiased and honest opinion, and I am pretty sure I would get exactly that from you. Good-bye, Sister, and thank you yet again, for everything." When he had gone, Sally stood for a time, leaning on the table with both hands, too shaken by all that had hap' pened to do anything more than stare at (he door through , -which he had gone. Laurence Chesfield ... the famous : surgeon . . . the man who had saved her when all hope had seemed gone. He had come back into her life, and not only that, he had praised her for her work, flattered her by his interest in her affairs, and wonder of wonders hoped to meet her ag&in! . The rest of the day passed in a dream, during which , Sally performed automatically, and with a skill born of -experience, all the tasks that she had to do. But her mind ; was existing in an exalted world of its own, refusing to come down to earth, and to face up to the fact that it was very -unlikely she would see Laurence Chesfield again. Just before she went off duty, in the late afternoon Sally went down to the dispensary to fetch some tablets ordered for a patient, 37 and as she was returning across the courtyard, she saw Alan Trenton coming towards her. She frowned impatiently, annoyed at having her dream-like peace disturbed and knowing, even s she felt annoyance, that she was behaving extremely foolishly to feel as she did. He stopped in front of her, his face expressing his pleasure at the unexpected meeting. "I've been thinking, Sally," he said without preamble, "you aren't on duty on Friday evening, are you?" "I don't think so," she admitted slowly. "Why?" He glanced round, to make sure they were not being watched, and not likely to be overheard. "Sally could you dine with me Friday evening?" he asked eagerly, "I'm hoping to pop down to my home that evening, just for dinner. I'd so much like you to come with me if you would. Mother would love to meet you and I'm particularly anxious for you to meet my young sister. The kid has some crazy notion about becoming a nurse and I'd like you to give her some of the more unpleasant details, so that she doesn't glamorize the job, too much. At present her idea of a nurse is something of the Ministering Angel you know, lady of the lamp, and white hands on hot' brows, and so on. She's a sweet kid, actually, but her head's a bit in the clouds, and we don't want her to take up something she'll hate later on. I don't want you to turn against it, of course, but we want to make sure it's the right thing for her " She tried to subdue the rising irritation. "Isn't she the best person to judge whether it is right for her or not?" she asked quietly. "I feel I am scarcely the right person to influence her in any way. Besides, I am a complete stranger to her, to your family, I feel it woul be a little short of an impertinence if I tried to interfere." "Not a stranger," he reminded her gently. "I have told them so much about you, Sally, don't you realize that? Please come, my dear it would mean so much to me. It would give us a chance to talk too we never get an opportunity here, do we? I I'm afraid I took the liberty 38 of telling Mother I was sure you would come, Sallys She'll be disappointed if " She laughed in spite of her annoyance, and in laughing her mood softened towards him. Poor Alan how was he 'in any way to blame for being his usual blundering self? "If I don't come?" she finished for him, still laughing. "You really are incorrigible, you know. You make it absolutely impossible for me to refuse, and then proceed to offer the invitation! All right all being well, I'll come with you on Friday evening. And now " as he began to thank her eagerly, "I really must hurry. I want to pop up to one of my patients before I leave. I've had a rather hectic day, have you?" He shrugged his shoulders. "More or less as usual," he said' unenthusiastically. ?"I hear Laurence Chesfield was here. See anything of him?" "I was on theatre duty with him," she said, hoping her burning face was not betraying her. "He is a remarkable man, isn't he? I wish you could have seen his skill with a very tricky mastoid. Do you remember that case you had some months ago, when Phillips operated? This one wa similar to that, in my 'opinion, but whereas that case was fairly straightforward, this one had the added handicap of cardiac weakness, and " She talked on eagerly, unaware that he was watching her with a slight frown between his eyes, and a strange unhappiness about his lips. When she bad finished he., . , s-- 9said simply: "Aren't you forgetting one salient point, my dear Sally? The child in question happened to be one of my patients, remember?" She bit her bottom lip, regretting her lack of tact, snubbed by the tone of his voice. "I'm sorry how very stupid of me," she began awkwardly. "It was only that I was particularly interested in the way Chesfield 'handled it. I must go now, Alan. See you Friday, and thanks for the invitation." Mrs. Grant was at the gate when Sally finally left the hospital. The older woman waved as the girl came through the great iron gates, and ran across the road towards the small house. She opened the front door for her, and followed her into the tiny hall. "You look a very different young woman to the one who went out of here this morning," she said with disarming frankness. "What's been happening to make you look so pleased with life, hm? Had a good day?" For a moment Sally stared at the woman, unaware that her cheeks were softly flushed, her blue eyes radiant with happiness. Then as much to her own astonishment as Mrs. Grant's, Sally flung her arms about the large body and hugged the woman fervently. "Oh, the best day ever!" She whispered happily. "The most wonderful day, Grantie, believe me!" Mrs. Grant raised her eyebrows and withdrew herself from the strong, young arms. She studied the girl's face thoughtfully, then sighed. "I might have known it," she said slowly, "you've fallen in love at last. Well, all I can say is that the poor young man has been patient past believing! He richly deserves you though whether I can say the same for you. I'm not so sure. Somehow I've got the feeling that you're not ready to give the whole of your heart and life to 'any man, as yet, young lady. As I was saying the other day " "Never mind what you were saying the other day," Sally interposed sharply, "what you're saying now is about as intelligible, to me, as double Dutch. Firstly, I have not fallen in love secondly, nobody has fallen in love with me. Thirdly, I don't know who you're talking about when you say I don't deserve him, and fourthly, why does everyone jump to the conclusion that only an engagement, or the prospect of same, can make a girl happy?" Mrs. Grant, somewhat affronted by Sally's ruthless douching of her hopes, sniffed offendedly. "Merely because it happens to be true, I suppose, however you try to shut your eyes to what is obvious. You know quite well I was talking about that young doctor what's;his-name the one who has been trying to get you interested ever since you've b
een here! Anyway, it seems to me that any girl who looks at doleful as you did this morning, and as pleased as you do this evening, has fallen 40 in love whether she knows it or not. Old-fashioned I may be, but I wasn't aware that human nature had changed all that much since I was a girl!" She went through to the kitchen banging the door behind her. For a moment Sally stood at the foot of the stairs, staring after the angry woman, then, a 'strange little smile in her eyes, she went up to her room, and dosed the door. Alone, for the first time since breakfast, she sat down on the bed, and allowed all that had happened during the day to come back to her. Supposing dear old Mrs. Grant was right T She put her hands over her flaming cheeks, chiding herself for her idiotic notions.. But supposing it were true? Could anything but love produce this glow of happiness, this queer sense of a dream fulfilled? She had told herself that if only she could see and speak to Chesfield again, she would have no more to ask of life. But was that enough? Was it not the truth that already her heart was running ahead, trying to penetrate all the tomorrows that it might know when it would meet him again? Would she honestly be satisfied now, if there were no further meetings? She found herself unable to sleep that night. Time and time again she crossed to the window, and stood staring across at the hospital. It was very quiet, but its dimly lit windows betrayed its' eternal vigilance. Somewhere, now and again, a child cried, and once, towards dawn, an ambulance went out of the yard and into the road, hurrying out through the darkness to fetch yet another patient. Sally watched idly, her head pressed against the cool glass of the wipdow, her whole being filled with devotion for that ugly building which offered a haven to all who were sick or suffering. Sometimes, waking in the night, she had found relief from her loneliness by going, to stare out at the watchful hospital, but on this night, when sleep eluded her, she felt differently towards the building opposite. It was still dear to her, but she felt oddly detached from it, able to view it with unprejudiced eyes, to see it as it was a hospital which had won fame and admiration, but not, as she had previously done, as a part of herself. It was a part of her life now, not her entire life. Yet and this was the strange thing to her she felt no slackening of her devotion to it, only this new detachment. So might a mother feel, she thought dreamily, about a child who suddenly grows up, and becomes a separate being. She turned away impatiently, annoyed by her own sentimentality. Nothing had changed she was just being fanciful and ridiculous because she had had too exciting a day, and a consequent sleepless night. By morning everything would be normal again Laurence Chesfield's visit would assume its proper proportions, and she would forget this nonsense just as he had no doubt done already. It was daylight before Sally fell at last into a troubled sleep. Less than an hour later her alarm clock shrilled its unwelcome message across the room, and she struggled back to consciousness, stupefied by sleep, reluctant to face the coming day. As soon as she was fully awake, however, she sat up eagerly, her mind'housing its delightful new hope . . . today she might see him again. It was not likely, but it was possible. Anything was possible in this new and wonderful world. The day passed more or less as usual, and it was late afternoon when Sally was summoned to the Matron's room. The older woman greeted her briskly, motioned her to a chair, and then sat down herself. "I'll not beat about the bush, my dear Sister," she said peremptorily. "I've just been talking to Mr. Laurence Chesfield you remember, the surgeon who operated on the mastoid yesterday? Yes, yes, of course you do. It .seems he was unusually pleased with the theatre team, and particularly with you, Sister." ' , "Thank you " Sally began shyly, "It's very kind of Mr. Chesfield." Matron allowed herself the very briefest of smiles. "Possibly," she said dryly, "though I should say he is not a man to give praise unless due. He has made a special request, however, about which I am not quite so happy. He wishes you to nurse the case for him." Sally caught her breath sharply, and her eyes widened. 42 It.. "But I don't understand. Matron " she began, and the woman glanced at her thoughtfully. "What is there to understand. Sister? It is not unheard of for a visiting' surgeon to ask for a special nurse, surely? It has happened here many times, as you must know. This case is a very serious one, of course, and Mr. Chesfield apparently feels that his patient would profit by your special care and attention. Whether he is right or not it is not for me to decide. What I do wish to know is this would you consider taking over the full charge of this boy for such time as Mr. Chesfield is visiting him?" "But of course " Sally began eagerly. Too eagerly, as she realized by the Matron's frown of surprise. "I would be interested in the patient, of course," she went on lamely, miserably aware of her flushed cheeks "having seen the operation, I mean." "Yes, of course." The Matron was silent for a moment, as she Studied a timetable before her. "I had you down for theatre duty," she said thoughtfully, not even looking at Sally. "Theatre Sister will be away for a few days. You are keen on theatre duty, are you not? I think it fair to tell you of'this arrangement, in case you wish to keep to it. There are plenty of other nurses who will no doubt suit Mr. Chesfield equally well. I do not disparage his'choice, of course, but one cannot expect to suit the requirement of every visiting Surgeon or doctor. I thought of Nurse Preston she is capable, good with children." "I'd like to take over the case, Matron," Sally said firmly, clasping her hands in a childlike guesture of nervousness. "If you don't mind, of cousre. I'm most interested in the case." "Obviously," Matron's voice was quite calm. "Very well, then. I'd like you to go on duty tomorrow, Friday, if that fits in with your own arrangements? I see you are due for an early pass this weekend, and no duty until Monday morning you do see that if you take this case it will change all that? You will not mind giving up your evening, and a good deal of your week-end?" 43 "Not at all, Matron," Sally said without a moment's hesitation, "that will be quite all right, .thank you." The Matron rose without any further discussion. "Very well. Sister," she said, as Sally reached the door. "Report tomorrow afternoon, and take over from Nurse Megan. We have given the child a private room for the time being, until he & stronger. He is on special nursing all the time, so I shall arrange for a night nurse to take over from you. Meanwhile continue with your duties as arranged. I will let you know when your duties are to be changed again." Outside the Matron's office Sally stood for a moment in a state of delighted anticipation. So it was to happen, after all there would be another meeting, many meetings ! Dr. Chesfield had gone out of his way to ask for her, had taken this step in order to substantiate what he had said yesterday, about seeing her again. This was something she had never dared to dream about. Nurse "Batty" came down the corridor towards her, her cheery face wreathed in smiles which quickly changed to impish respect. "Hullo, Sister," he, said demurely, and then, making sure nobody was within earshot. "Been called over the coals?" -Sally smiled, rather vaguely it seemed to, the young nurse. "No just been given new duties, that's all," she said queerly. "Special nursing." Batty's face fell. "Oh, no " she exclaimed, in pretended horror. "Well, for pity's sake, that's hardly your cup of tea now that you're a full-blown Sister, is it? I mean, anybody can do special nursing '-" Sally frowned, missing the teasing in the girl's eyes. Without thinking she spoke sharply. "I am not professing to any superior knowledge about special nursing," she said coldly, "but I think you speak rather casually when you Say anybody can do it, nurse." Batty's face stiffened into complete disgust. Later she disclosed to a dose friend that she would never have be44 heved anybody could change so completely as had Sally Marthorpe, and just because she had been made Sister' Her words soon set fire to the tinder of hospital gossip and before evening it had become a general rumour that'Sally was acting superior". Knowing nothing of this rumour herself it was with some surprise that she found a decidedly chilly atmosphere awaiting her when she entered the Common-Room that evening before going off duty. Oddly disturbed, she told herself she was probably imagining' things, and on an impulse she could not have explained, she decided to go up to see the little boy of whom she was being put in charge before going home. The private rooms were in a small building set slightly away from
the Main Block. The annex had been built only a few years previously, and the new bricks and contemporary style of design showed up oddly against the ugly red brick of the original building. It was a single storey building, and enormous windows down each side made it look like a row of cubicles. Sally walked quietly, fully aware thai; she had no real right to be visiting the cubicles when she was not on duty there or indeed anywhere in the hospital. However she expected to find only the nurse in attendance with her sma 1 patient, and she was quite sure there would be no trouble there. It was very quiet in the annex and as the floors were covered in rubber Sally's shoes made no sound as she walked down the corridor which ran the full length of the tiny rooms. Each door was fitted with glass, and there were glass walls between the cubicles, so that patients could see from one end of the annex to the other. But, in order to give privacy when needed, curtains were at each door and each window, and, when drawn gave each room a selfcontained appearance which was both cosy and colorful. The end cubicle was thus isolated, and Sally knew that her patient was to be found there. Outside the door she hesitated for a moment, wondering if, after all, she should enter. She had no real reason for going in and she might annoy the nurse. Trying to make sure which nurse was on duty, she peered through a crack 45 in the curtains, and saw the figure of a white-coated man bending over the bed. For one crazy moment she thought it might be Laurence Chesfield paying a surprise visit, and she drew back. Then, even as she would have turned away, the door opened and Alan Trenton stood before her. "Why, Sally what is it?" he asked her sharply, before she could explain her presence. "Anything wrong?" "Why why, no, of course not. I I was just interested to know how the boy was. I saw the operation, you know, and wondered if he was making good progress." She was aware that her words sounded stilted, rather pompous, and Alan Trenton obviously thought so too, for he smiled at her rather mockingly. "So you told me," he reminded her quietly. "Tommy is as well as we can expect, poor little chap. But you mustn't worry, my dear! He is having excellent attention, and Chesfield is satisfied with 'him. He is having special nursing- " "I know," she said impulsively, her eyes brightening. "To be perfectly honest that is why I came. You see, I'm being put on the case. I start tomorrow evening." "Indeed?" 'She smiled anxiously, puzzled by his manner. " You seem surprised," she offered, somewhat sharply, "I don't see why. After all, Mr. Chesfield asked Matron if I might take over the case. There is no real reason why I shouldn't, is there?" He shrugged his shoulders, and she noticed, for the first time, how tired and dispirited he looked. ( "No reason at all," he agred quietly. "One expects, disappointments in this profession." "Disappointments?" Sally, echoed the word impatiently. "What on earth is there to be disappointed about? I can't honestly see that it makes any difference to you whether I take the case or not and it seems to make quite a lot of difference to Mr. Chesfield." He eyed her thoughfully. "Forget it," he said simply. "Forget it as easily as you seem to have forgotten your previously made engagement for the evening." 46 She stared at him blankly for a moment, then, as the true meaning of his words came to her she drew back, a hand held childishly against her lips. "Oh, Alan!" she whispered, after a seemingly endless silence. "Oh, Alan I'm so sorry! I was coming to your home with you, wasn't I? I don't know what to say, and that's the truth of it. It just didn't occur to me. You know ,iiow it is, when you're asked these things quite unexpectedly, everything goes out of your head except the importance of the new duty " She broke off, unhappily aware that she was merely making things worse by her impulsive apologies. How on earth had she come to forget the invitation which obviously meant a good deal to Alan? Was her friendship and esteem of him to count for nothing, now that Chesfield had come into her life? How could she have behaved so casually, so unkindly? Anxious, now, to undo the hurt she had caused, she touched his arm eagerly, and was hurt beyond words when he drew back sharply as if her touch hurt him. "Forget it," he advised her again, this time with real impatience in his voice, "I assure you I shall, quite soon. And now, as you're to take over this case, maybe you'd like me to discuss it with you? Or would you rather wait to talk it over with Chesfield?" She felt miserably close to tears, and knowing that she would not be able to discuss the case calmly and sensibly at that moment she shook her head in refusal. His lips tightened slightly, but he made no other sign of his disappointment. A few moments later, after a couple of abortive attempts to start a conversation, Sally bade Alan good night and hurriedly left the annex. She felt horribly upset by the whole scene and, anxious to escape from her own feeling of guilt, she tried to tell herself that Alan had behaved with childish truculence which far outstripped the facts of the case. After all, hospital duty came first, every time. She hurriedly pushed away the thought that Matron had given her every opportunity of refusing to start duty ,on' the Friday, and repeated to herself that she could not be expected to remember personal affairs at such a moment. 47 Sally saw nothing of Alan Trenton the next day, and when in the afternoon she went to the private wards she found Chesfield himself awaiting her. Even after so short an interval Sally felt excited and flustered at meeting him again, and she had great difficulty in hiding her emotion when he greeted her with obvious pleasure. For a few minutes they discussed the case thoroughly, and Sally, engrossed in the surgeon's remarks, did not even notice the curious glances of the other nurses who were passing to and fro outside the room. Indeed, it was not until Night Sister herself came along the corridor from the Nurses' Block that Sally realized that she and the doctor were exciting quite a lot of interest and speculation. As if noticing her embarrassment Chesfield laughed'gently. "I'm taking up too much of your time. Sister," he said placatingly, "I'm sorry. But I did want you to know how glad I am that you will be in charge of young Tommy from now on. I want you to keep in close touch with me, and let me know even the slightest change, please. I am just a little worried about the possibility of a relapse, but I know I can leave it to you to keep a most careful check on the boy. I believe the usual resident doctor is away this week-end, but I've seen the young doctor who is standing in for him, and given him all particulars. Nevertheless I want to keep my finger on this particular pulse, if you get my meaning. I like to see my patients right through to recovery whenever it is humanly possible. Do you think Matron would be free for a few minutes if I went to her room now?" "I'll phone through," Sally offered at once, "and you may rest assured I'll keep the closest watch, Mr. Chesfield. " 'Doctor' will do," he teased her quietly. "No ceremony, please. I feel we are really working together now, so we can afford to unbend slightly, don't you agree?" She watched him go down the long corridor, an unusually tall, slim figure, his dark hair gleaming under the bright lights. She went into the small room and sat down beside the child's bed, noting the dull flush on the tiny cheeks, the sweep of dark lashes against the blue shadows beneath the closed eyes. The small head was heavily bandaged, and 48 one small hand'was tucked beneath the baby chin. She knew a swift pang of tenderness towards the sleeping child, and picking up the chart from the bedside table she studied it careful, trying to memorize everything on it. In the days that followed Sally found herself following a routine of absolute happiness and satisfaction. Chesfield called each morning, and sometimes late at night too, and as he always seemed to expect to find her there when he came, she took to staying on, often for more than an hour after her time for going off duty. The night nurse who sometimes glanced at her with some annoyance, tried to remonstrate with her, but Sally refused to go until the doctor had been for his visit. The boy himself made good progress, but one morning, soon after Sally arrived, she found him curiously excited. The night nurse, going off duty, smiled at her complacently. "Merely the sure sign of a return to good health," she assured Sally, slightly amused by the Sisters concern. "Did you ever know a child who did not grow noisy and disobedient when he felt better? I never saw you so easily upset about a patient, Sister, if you don't mind me saying so?" Sally resisted the impulse to answer the girl sharply, and bided her time till the nurse had departed. Then 'with sudd
enly grim lips, she studied the child, without appearing to do so, noting the high color, the rather anxious light in the young eyes, and, more than all else, the excitement that seemed to verge so closely on hysteria. She made up her mind swiftly and decisively. She persuaded the child to lie down, promising him a treat if he did as he was told. She rang for a probationer and asked the girl to put through a call to Chesfield. When he answered she spoke to him calmly, but firmly. "I think you should come, sir," she said quietly. "I'm not entirely satisfied. No nothing definite just a strange excitability which worries me. I'm trying to keep him quiet, but I think you ought to see him." "Right away," he told her at once, .and the line went dead. In less than twenty minutes he was with her by the child's bed, his strong fingers on the tiny wrist, his eyes studying the child's face intently. He said nothing, but 49 she knew exactly when he had decided to remove the bandages. Immediately she rang for the dressing trolley and, a nurse hurried in, surprised by this unexpected visit. She glanced at Sally inquiringly, but the Sister motioned her away. For the next few minutes she stood tensed, ready for action, straining to hear his every word, to anticipate his slightest wish. He worked carefully, so as not to scare or hurt the child, and presently, the bandages back in place, the child almost asleep, Chesfield stood back and looked at Sally admiringly. "It's almost too good to be true," he said, as if he spoke more to himself than to her. "I would have defied any nurse to be worried about such symptoms. Sister. There was nothing to indicate trouble other than a tinge of excitability, a restlessness which can so often be quite natural in a young patient yet you knew that it might be serious, urgent. I congratulate you, my dear. I would hazard a guess that you are that rare phenomenon a natural nurse." "Why why, thank you, doctor," she stammered, more moved than she dared admit by his praise. "I was only doing as you instructed. Anyone would have done the same, knowing Tommy as I do now. You overrate my ability, I'm afraid. Children are far easier to read than adults, when they're sick, to my way of thinking. I've always found it so in every branch of hospital work even in the clinic, when they have precious little chance of saying anything, because fond mothers always seem to feel obliged to do all the talking for their offspring!" He smiled at her words, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was no longer listening to her. After a. few rather curt words as to further treatment, he left her, and she went back to work wondering if she had, quite unwittingly, presumed on his kindness. Much later in the day, when the Matron sent for her, she knew a spasm of fear, lest somehow she had upset the doctor and was to be removed from the case. Matron greeted her amiably enough, however, and after a few cursory remarks, she asked Sally to sit down. She, however, did not take a seat in her usual swivel chair, but crossed to the small window, and stood looking out into the courtyard where the ambulances stood ready for call. 50 I Sally watched her anxiously, still quite in the dark as [ to the purpose of this call to the Matron's room. Suddenly, ' just when the silence seemed to be unbearable, the Matron turned. i "Sister I am going to talk to you quite unofficially ; for a few minutes," she said quietly. "I want you to forget ;that I am a Matron and you a Sister. I want to discuss a [ matter with you which, in the ordinary way, I should not | discuss with a member of my staff, but " she shrugged j her shoulders, "it is a somewhat exceptional case, and I I would welcome your co-operation." | Thoroughly mystified. Sally murmured her willingness .to do anything she could, and then awaited further explanations. i Matron came to the desk at last and sat down facing I.Sally. ' S "You know that Dr. Tring is giving up," she said simp| ly. "I am sure he has hinted as much to you?" I, "Oh, yes, Matron, on more than one occasion. He has | not been well for a long time, I believe, but he seemed | to think a replacement was likely to prove difficult." "So I believed," Matron agreed quietly, "but quite a lot .has happened in the course of the last few weeks. You (know, of course, that Mr. Chesfield is an ear, nose and | throat specialist certainly one of the finest in the coun|fry, I should say. He has a large practice in London, and y also locally how the man ever manages to space out his i time I cannot imagine." She allowed herself a slight smile. i "We have been fortunate enough to interest Mr.-Chesfield, |here at the Merrison, and for some time past he has been | kind enough to take a close personal interest in our wel-l.fare and progress not that he has done many actual op-Iterations here, because hitherto Dr. Tring has naturally |done most of them. Now, however, with Dr. Tring wish-Jmg to retire, there arises the question of filling his place. |.Mr. Chesfield has been approached, and has agreed to |give us the benefit of his help and advice." r "Here, Matron?" |;~ Matron noted the warm color, and the eager light in ISally's eyes, and her lips pursed a little. I: ' ' 51 t" "Here, certainly," she agreed, somewhat dryly. "Naturally Mr. Chesfield cannot be a resident surgeon and we would not dream of asking it of him, even if it could be arranged. We think ourselves extremely fortunate to be able to call on him at all. He has suggested a weekly attendance, on his part, at the Clinic he suggests Thursday. He will see patients at his house at times, and then they will attend the Clinic here, regularly." Sally, thoroughly bewildered as to why Matron was telling her all this, frowned uncertainly. "But will once a week be sufficient?" she asked nervously. "I would like to point out that Mr. Tring holds his clinic three days a week, and even then the. crowds are pretty large. I cannot imagine how Mr. Chesfield would manage in one day to attend to everybody who would want to see him." Matron picked up a pencil and played with it a rare sign of nervousness, which surprised Sally very much. "That's where Mr. Chesfield's idea comes in," the older woman admitted slowly. "He suggests we run a clinic here without his'1 constant -attendance. He will see all new patients, and then the Clinic will be run in order that regular patients can attend for the necessary treatment, check-up, and so on. He believes there is absolutely no need for the doctor or surgeon to be always in attendance, especially on ear troubles which are often of long duration yet need .- only slight treatment. With somebody, capable in charge, the Clinic could be run regularly, Mr. Chesfield believes without his constant attendance. Naturally we would need to have a fully trained person in charge of the Clinic somebody who understands the work from A to Z, and could accept responsibility. It would not be an easy job, of course. I have made several suggestions to Mr. Chesfield, but he seems to have his own ideas, and will listen to none of mine. Indeed, he makes it a condition of his running of the Clinic that he chooses his own staff." Sally frowned again, now rather irritated by this seemingly pointless interview. She was delighted to know that Chesfield would be a regular visitor at the hospital, of course, but why this extraordinary confidence? 52 The Matron pat down her pencils, and looked steadily at Sally. ' : "Sister Marthorpe," she said quietly," Mr. Chesfield hasmade it a condition of his attendance at the Clinic that you should be in charge of it. How do you feel about the matter? Will you take on the running of the Clinic andes Mr. Chesfield's supervision?" .'
The Thursday clinic Page 2
