“Well, you have blotted your copybook with Dr Kidd, haven’t you? Very thoroughly indeed, going by what he said to me this morning. Really, Nurse, if you had been within his reach last night I have a distinct impression he’d have almost killed you – and although he is impatient in many ways, I’ve never known him to be so violently angry! You’d better keep out of his way as much as you can from now on. I’ve taken you off Mrs Slattery of course – he was adamant about that – but you can keep Mr Bartlett, and run for the rest of the staff, especially Nurse Cavanaugh. And for your own sake, remember what I said – keep out of Dr Kidd’s way!”
And that was all. And talking about it to Bridie Cavanaugh later, as they made the rounds with the evening drugs, she expressed her surprise at the mildness of the rebuke.
“I thought she’d – I don’t know. Get me thrown off the floor or something! But she was – it was odd. Almost amused! I don’t understand it.”
“You can be daft as a brush, sometimes, young Oxford, indeed you can! The best thing Adam Kidd ever did for you as far as she’s concerned was complain about you – she’s feelin’ much better! I told you right at the start, she’s a strong fancy for the lad. And she’s been worried about you horning in.”
“She’s the daft one, then. He loathes me, has done ever since I came on the floor, you know that. As if he’d ever be interested in me, any more than I would in him!”
“I can’t speak for you, seein’ I don’t remember ever discussing the matter with you – though I’ve wondered, I must say, seein’ how much you keep sayin’ you hate the man, and I always think that’s a very interestin’ thing to say about anyone – but I’ll tell you this. If you think he isn’t interested in you, you’re daft as two brushes.”
She grinned a little wickedly at Tricia as she shook a bottle of medicine and then, with an expert twist of her little finger, drew the cork and poured a carefully measured dose.
“Oh, I’ve seen him. Watchin’ you walk down the corridor. That’s a very beguilin’ walk you’ve got, do you know that? Ah, sure you do – you’ll have been told often enough, I dare say. And it’s remarkable, really, how much more time he seems to spend on this floor lately. He used to keep away as much as he could, I always reckoned he found the Cleland a bit more than he could cope with. She’s a determined lady, and she really – ” she shook her head admiringly, “ – goes after what she wants, does La Cleland. Here, give this to room 319, will you – ”
Red-faced, Tricia obeyed, and came back to Bridie as fast as she could.
“You’re making it up as you go along,” she said hotly. “And it’s not funny! Adam Kidd thinks I’m stupid, immature, useless – ”
Bridie raised her eyebrows at that. “Oh, he’s told you all that has he? You are getting on! You’ll have him on his knees next.”
“Bridie, will you stop talking such utter rubbish? You may be right about Cleland – I wouldn’t know – but you couldn’t be more wrong about Kidd and you’re crazy if you think you’re right about me. I – I’m engaged, anyway – ” Her voice trailed away then, and Bridie said shrewdly, “Really? Ah well. Many a slip and all that – it’s a good thing bein” engaged, isn’t like it was way back when my mother was a girl. Now, then a betrothal was something! Now it’s all different, and maybe it’s as well in some ways. I wouldn’t be makin’ any weddin’ plans yet, me old love. Not with yourself in such a twist and a turmoil.”
“Who says I am?” Tricia said quickly. “I’m nothing of the sort! Just hating Private Wing, that’s all.”
“Yes, of course, to be sure,” Bridie said soothingly. “Anyway, it’s none o’ my business. But you asked me why Cleland was so easy on you, so I told you. Let me tell you somethin’ else. She’s a devious old piece, and she wants that Adam in the worst way. And now you’ve discredited yourself in front of him – or so she thinks, silly old twit – she’ll do her best to get you shifted. I promise you. There’d be no point in doin’ that if she thought Adam Kidd had any sort of lingerin’ fancy for you. But now she reckons he hasn’t – well, I’d watch my step that’s all. Now, look, here’s Mr Bartlett’s medication. Do your best to make him take it all – he tried to persuade me to drop it in the sink this morning, poor devil. It’s pretty foul stuff – ” she sniffed the bottle of medicine and grimaced, “ – and the Lord knows what good it might do him, but there, it’s worth trying, I suppose.”
“He’s pretty grim, isn’t he, Bridie?” Tricia was grateful for a chance to change the subject but also she genuinely wanted an answer. She couldn’t even think about Philip Bartlett without feeling that sharp stab of angry pity.
“Yes,” Bridie said soberly. “He is. His blood picture – ” She shook her head. “Shockin’ results to the tests, shockin’. And this stuff – ” she held out the bottle. “When I see someone is on this, I could almost throw up my hands. It’s one of these new experimental drugs – developed at Dr Travis” Research Unit at the University, and they try it out here. I’ve never seen ’em give it to anyone who isn’t pretty hopeless – it has some pretty nasty side effects on the nervous system, from all accounts, but a bit of sensory loss is better than dyin’, I suppose.”
“Does it ever do any good?”
“Not often, though I’ve seen a couple of pretty incredible results, I must say. There was that child we had here last summer, now – gorgeous wee thing she was. Only about seven or so. And she was bad – very bad. Acute Hodgkins. I wouldn’t have given her a month to live, and that’s a fact. But she bloomed on this stuff, though we had to fight to get it into her, she hated it so. She’s not been back since and she walked out of here lookin” like a normal child after six weeks on it. So maybe – I hope it’ll do as much for Mr B. Anyway, go and give it him, there’s a good lass,” and Bridie trundled the drug trolley away, humming softly beneath her breath.
Philip Bartlett was sitting in an armchair beside the window, looking out at the garden below with a lacklustre expression on his face. But he turned his head as she came in, and produced one of his brilliant smiles.
“Well, it’s my delicious nurse! How are you this evening? I don’t seem to have seen much of you today, and I thought you were my special girl. Hell, do I have to take that stuff? It tastes like – well, I’m too much of a gentleman to tell you.”
“And too much of a gentleman to have ever actually tasted whatever-it-is, so how do you know? You’ve got to swallow it, so the sooner the easier.” Tricia held out the medicine glass, and he took it unwillingly, and she turned away to bring a glass of fruit juice from his bedside table.
“I’m sorry if you feel I’ve been neglecting you. I looked in after we’d settled you at lunch time, and you were asleep, and then later, you had visitors, so – ”
“So you spent the time canoodling with some delectable doctor in a quiet corner.”
“Not at all! I spent it folding sheets and scrubbing the sluice, actually. You’ve a funny idea of hospital work if you think there’s time for such – nonsense. Go on – swallow it! Good! This should help it down.”
She tried to move away after giving him the fruit juice, but he held on to her with his other hand, watching her with eyes bright over the rim of the glass, and then put the glass down on the table beside him and reached for her other hand, so that she was pinned to his side.
“No nonsense?” he said softly, looking up at her through his incredibly long lashes. “None at all? That sounds very dull. With delicious creatures like you around, and all these single rooms with bored men like me in them – bless us, child, I’d have thought – ”
She had to move then, and got her hands away with a sharp tug. “You’d have thought all wrong Mr Bartlett. Now, are you ready to go back to bed yet? I imagine your visitors will be here soon and – ”
“Oh, Maxine’s here already. Talking to Doctor Kidd, I believe. She’s been with him for heaven knows how long – but there, I thought. Why not? Then when my splendid nurse comes in, I’ll be able to talk to her, a
nd enjoy her company in peace – ” and he laughed up at her and again tried to reach her hands.
“Mr Bartlett!” she began hotly, and then stopped, looking at the thin face with the too-bright eyes. “You’re not serious at all, are you?” she said slowly. “Isn’t this – oh, a sort of game you play all the time? With all the girls at your office, girls you meet at parties, every nurse who comes in here?”
He raised one eyebrow a little. “Well, well! Such a noticing child as it is, then! Well, you could be right. Damn it, life’s too short not to enjoy every moment of it, and grab every opportunity of a little amusement. Isn’t it?”
He sighed sharply then, and his brightness faltered for a second, and then the smile came back, more brilliant than ever. “So, watch your step, my love! One false move and – voom! I pounce!”
“I’ll watch!” she said, with a gaiety that was difficult to produce, for she could have wept for him. But if this was the way he wanted to play his game of living, then play it he should, and she’d join in according to his own rules. It was little enough that anyone could do for him; at least let him be amused. “In future, I’ll have to bring a chaperone in with me, to keep me safe! Nurse Cavanaugh, now!”
“Splendid!” he sounded a little abstracted suddenly. “Then I’ll have two to pounce on. Look, Sweetie, do something for me, will you? I’d like to say goodnight to Maxine before I go back to bed. I’m a bit – oh, tired, I suppose, though I’ve done sweet damn all but sit here all day – and once I’m in bed I’ll be fast asleep. Which would be a shade depressing, not to say boring, for Maxine. So detach her from the fascinating Dr Kidd for me, will you?”
“Of course!” she said at once. “Anything else before I go off duty?”
“Just a kiss – ” he murmured, with a smile on his face, but it had lost some of its sparkle now.
“Some other time!” she said, and smiled back, and with a friendly tap on his shoulder went to look for Maxine. As she went along the corridor towards the visitors’ room, she thought angrily “Hateful woman! How can she be so cruel? To have to be sent for like this, when she ought to be with him – poor devil – ”
The floor was peaceful as she hurried along past the subdued buzz of sound coming from each door, as visitors chattered, and the individual television and radio sets that the rooms boasted pouring out their programmes. She could hear the clatter of glass as Bridie, down at the far end by the medicine cupboard, put away bottles and drug charts, and in the office Sister Cleland was sitting, head down over the report book, as Tricia passed the door. “Only another five minutes!” she thought, “and then I can go off duty, and that means I’ll have to make up my mind one way or the other, and phone David. And there’s Ngaire, too. She was a lot better by the time we both went to bed last night, but even so, she’ll need to talk more. Maybe we should go out for a meal, just the two of us, and I’ll phone David tomorrow – ”
But, as she had all day, she pushed the thought of David and his demands to the back of her mind. When she got off duty, then she’d think about it. Not now.
The visitor’s waiting room door was closed, with the light gleaming softly through the frosted pane, and she tapped on it and without waiting for an answer walked in. And then stood very still.
Adam Kidd was standing beside the small armchair in the corner, and close to him, her hands gripping his shoulders, and her face buried in the front of his white coat, was Maxine Bartlett. One of his arms was round her shoulders, and his head was bent as with the other hand he stroked her glinting fair hair. He seemed to be murmuring in her ear, and looked up sharply as the door opened.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Tricia heard her own voice coming very clearly, but somehow from a long way away. “Mr Bartlett is asking for you, Mrs Bartlett. I told him I would tell you. Goodnight.” And moving very stiffly, she stepped backwards, and closed the door, and turned, feeling as though she were made of wood, to walk back along the corridor towards the office.
“May I report off duty, please, Sister?” Again, her voice sounded in her own ears like a stranger’s, remote, unreal. And at Sister Cleland’s dismissive nod, she turned and went to the changing room to get her cape, and finding Bridie and Ingrid Jensen there, also preparing to go off duty, said a mechanical “Goodnight – ”
“Hey, you’re in a rare hurry to rush off tonight,” Ingrid said with a rallying note in her voice. “Who’s a clock watcher now, young Oxford?”
Tricia stopped by the door for a moment, and then hugged her cape closely round her shoulders. “I’ve got to go,” she said, not looking at them. “I’ve – I’ve got to make a phone call. Right away.”
Chapter Eleven
But when she came off duty, Ngaire was sitting in Tricia’s room, and turned to her a face that held an expression that was a heart-rending amalgam of misery and pretended gaiety and a sort of woebegone courage that made Tricia’s icy numbness melt quite suddenly, made her stand in her doorway, her cape still clutched about her, with tears streaming down her face. And then Ngaire came and put her arms about her and wept too, so that they clung to each other like lost children.
It was Ngaire who recovered first, and pulled back, and sniffed loudly, and then managed a watery laugh. “Oh, Trish, honestly! Aren’t we the most – here, look at your face! Your nose is like a cherry! Crying’s supposed to be pretty in a girl, but you look lousy.”
“You don’t look exactly marvellous yourself,” Tricia said huskily, and wiped her eyes on a corner of her apron. “You’ve got mascara all over the place – ”
Ngaire turned and went to peer in Tricia’s dressing table mirror. “So much for dauntless bravery and all that,” she said, and began to mop away the traces of her tears. “I thought – it’s bloody silly, sitting mourning over what can’t be undone. I spent ages putting my face on, and I needn’t have bothered – ” she turned to look at Tricia then. “Why did you cry, Trish? I mean – just sympathy and that?”
“I – yes. Sort of.” Tricia moved heavily towards her bed and sat down. “Well – ” she struggled for a moment. “Not entirely. I mean, everything’s so – oh, what the hell. It isn’t important.”
Ngaire came and sat beside her. “Yes it is,” she said softly. “You were so – great last night. To me, I mean. Just being able to talk to you about it all made it better. Honestly. I’m not nearly so miserable now.” It was her turn then to try to be honest. “Well, that isn’t entirely true. I’m bloody bloody miserable. And I will be for a long time, I’m thinking. But – well, talking to you about it all made it – gave it shape, you know? I mean, right now it’s like sitting at the bottom of an enormous black pit and it’s all cold and drear – ” she shivered suddenly. “But I can sort of see a bit of light at the top. I’ll get out of it one of these days. I know that much. Last night it was – I felt buried alive, you know? But now I know it’ll take time, but I’ll get out – What’s the matter, Trish? With you, I mean? What’s upset you?”
“Really, it isn’t important,” Tricia said. “Not to worry – ”
“Oh, sure! You say not to worry, so I say, great, here’s old Trish, says she’s a box of birds, looks like death warmed up and gone cold again, but she says not to worry! So I won’t! I mean, is it likely, I ask you?”
“I – I’ve got to phone David,” Tricia said abruptly.
“What’s so bad about that?” Ngaire peered more closely at her. “You two having problems?”
“Yes. Problems.” Tricia stood up. “And I’d better go and – I’d better phone him before I – I’d better get it done.”
“Get what done?” Ngaire frowned suddenly. “Trish – what is it? You look like – doom or something. What have you got to get done?”
“Oh, it’ll take too long to explain,” Tricia said wearily. “And anyway, what the hell? It doesn’t really matter as much as it did, so I might as well let him be glad – I suppose he will.”
“Look, you’re talking in riddles. And I demand the right to be the
confidante tonight. You held my hand when I needed it, so I’m going to hold yours now. No – no arguments. Whatever it is you want to talk to David about, something tells me it can wait, that it ought to wait. Never do important things on an impulse. Lesson one, learned by me the hard way.” Ngaire grimaced sharply. “You learn it the easy way from Aunty Ny. How are you off for lolly?”
“Lolly?”
“I’m as skint as usual. But if you can manage to pay your own way, I can stretch to a couple of sausage rolls and a bag of crisps with some of Nobby’s coffee over at the Pigsty. We’ll natter, find out what’s what. It’s better to talk in public about important things. You can’t get all emotional, can’t go over the top when you’re in a crowd.” Again her face darkened, and then, with deliberate gaiety, she pulled Tricia to her feet. “Get yourself out of uniform, Trish, and we’ll go over. No – no arguments. We’ll go. Put a move on.”
The Pigsty was quiet when they got there, for at this stage of the month money was tight among the students, both medical and nursing. A few dockers were having a quick beer on their way home from their overtime shifts and talking loudly to Nobby at the bar, and the girls found a quiet table in the corner in the shadow of the little stage.
Nobby served them quickly, not in the least minding that they wanted coffee rather than any of his more expensive liquid stock, and shoved a Cornish pasty in front of each of them when he brought their order.
“Compliments of the ’ouse, an’ that. You look ’ungry – nah, shut up. You can treat me to a splint and a sticky plaster next time I need one – ” and he lumbered back to the bar and left them in their quiet corner.
They ate in silence, and not until each had pushed their plates away and were sitting, elbows on the table and their hands curled round the big white mugs of thick black coffee, did Ngaire start to speak.
The Private Wing Page 13
