Ring in a Teacup

by Betty Neels

  They had their coffee in the drawing room, which, after the restrained simplicity of the Regency dining room, seemed more magnificent than ever. Lucy, feeling a little unreal, sat on an enormous buttonbacked sofa and talked to Fraam’s father; a nice old man, she decided, who must have been as good-looking as his son and still was handsome enough. She felt at ease with him, just as, surprisingly, she had felt at ease with his mother, a rather formidable lady with a high-bridged nose and silver hair who nonetheless had a charming smile and a way of making her feel as though she had known everyone in the room all her life. She had talked to Leo, Fraam’s brother, too, and his wife Jacoba, and as she got up to leave presently she was aware of deep envy for the girl Fraam would eventually marry; not only would the lucky creature have him for a husband, she would have his family too, to welcome her with warmth into their circle and make her one of them.

  She sighed without knowing it and Mevrouw der Linssen said at once: ‘You are tired, my dear, and no wonder. Fraam shall take you to the hospital at once—we have been most selfish keeping you from your bed.’ And she had kissed Lucy goodnight. So, for that matter, had everyone else, except Fraam of course. He had driven her back quickly, handed her over to one of the night Sisters, wished her goodnight, expressed the hope that she would remember all that he had told her and gone away again. She had felt a little lost, standing there at the entrance of the Nurses’ Home, but she was sleepy too; she accompanied the night Sister up the stairs to a pleasant little room on the first floor, listened with half an ear to instructions about uniform, to whom she must report, and where to go for breakfast, and went thankfully to bed. She had plenty to think about, but it would have to wait until the morning.

  And when the morning came, she had no time. A pretty girl who introduced herself as Zuster Thijn and begged to be called Ans fetched her at breakfast time, sat her down at a table with a dozen others, supplied her with coffee and bread and butter and cheese, introduced her widely and then hurried her along to the Directrice’s office.

  That lady reminded Lucy forcibly of Miss Trent; kind, severe and confident that everyone would do exactly as she wished them to. She outlined Lucy’s duties in a crisp, very correct English, struck a bell on her desk with a decisive hand and when a younger and only slightly less severe assistant appeared, consigned Lucy into her care.

  She would never find her way, thought Lucy, skipping along to keep up with her companion’s confident strides. The hospital was old, added to, modernised and generally made over and she considered that unless one had been fortunate enough to grow up with the alterations, one needed a map. They gained the Private Wing at last, and she was handed over to the Hoofdzuster, a placid-looking woman somewhere in her forties, with kind eyes and a ready smile and a command of the English language which while not amounting to much, was fluent enough.

  ‘Doctor de Groot is in a side room,’ she explained, ‘he will go to the operatiezaal in an hour, so you will please renew your acquaintance with him, give him his injection and accompany him, there to remain until Mr der Linssen has completed the operation. It has been explained to you what is to be done?’ She nodded her head. ‘So you will know what is expected of you, you will remain with him for the rest of this day and you will be relieved by a night nurse. You will receive free time on another day. You understand me?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Sister. I understand that Doctor de Groot is to go home within a few days.’

  ‘That is so. Now I take you to your patient.’

  Lucy had expected to see Mies there, which was silly, for visiting would hardly be allowed before the operation. Doctor de Groot was propped up in bed looking ill but quite cheerful and talking with some vigour to Fraam, who was leaning over the end of his bed, listening. They both looked at Lucy as she went in, said something to the Hoofdzuster, who smiled and went away, and then stared at Lucy once more. She bore their scrutiny for a few moments and then wished them a rather tart good morning.

  Her patient grinned at her. ‘Hello, Lucy, I’m very glad to see you, my dear. I can’t think of anyone I would rather have to look after me. My little Mies is no good as a nurse, not this sort of nursing at any rate. We’re going home in three days’ time—I’ve Fraam’s promise on that. And now,’ he added testily, ‘what about giving me my pre-med?’

  Fraam nodded at Lucy, not in greeting, she was quick to see, but as a sign that she could draw up the necessary drug in the syringe lying ready in its little dish. She did so without speaking, gave it to him to check, administered it neatly and gave Doctor de Groot a motherly little pat.

  ‘We’ll have a nice chat when you’re feeling like it,’ she promised.

  He stared up at her. ‘I’m the worst patient in the world!’

  ‘And I’m the severest nurse,’ she assured him. ‘Now close your eyes, my dear, and let yourself doze—I’ll be here.’

  She went to get rid of the syringe and then to look at the charts and papers laid out ready for her once the operation was over. Fraam was still there, indeed he hadn’t moved an inch, but he wasn’t Fraam now, he was the surgeon who was going to perform the operation and she was the nurse in charge of his case. ‘Was there anything more that I should know about?’ she asked him calmly.

  ‘Not a thing,’ he assured her, ‘at present. I daresay I’ll have a few more instructions when you’re back here.’ He moved then, going soft-footed to the door. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  An hour later Lucy, swathed in a cotton gown and with her hair tidied away beneath a mob cap which did nothing for her at all, stood by Doctor de Groot’s unconscious form, ready to hand the anaesthetist anything he might require. Mr der Linssen was there, naturally, with his assistant, a houseman or two, theatre Sister and a team of nurses, and it all looked exactly the same as the operating theatre at St Norbert’s, only of course they were all speaking Dutch. Not that much was said; Mr der Linssen liked to work in peace and quiet; bar the odd remark concerning some interesting phase during the operation, and a quiet-voiced request for this or that instrument, he worked silently, completely absorbed in his task; the division of the sympathetic chain of cervical nerves so that his colleague’s right arm might become normal again, free from pain and the threat of gangrene quashed once and for all.

  He worked fast, but not too fast, and despite his silence the people around him were relaxed. Bless him, thought Lucy lovingly, he deserves all the pretty girls he dates and his lovely house and his nice family; thoughts which really made no sense at all.

  He straightened his long back at last, nodded to his assistant and left the theatre and in due time Doctor de Groot was borne back to his bed. He had already opened his eyes and muttered something and gone directly back to sleep again. Lucy, arranging all the paraphernalia necessary to his recovery, was too intent on her task to notice Mr der Linssen in the doorway watching her. When she did see him she concluded that he had only just arrived and informed him at once about his patient’s pulse and general condition. ‘His hand is warm and there’s a good wrist pulse,’ she went on. ‘Do you want half-hour observations?’ After the shortest of pauses, she added ‘sir.’

  His manner was remote and courteous, they could have been strangers. ‘Please. I want to know if you are uneasy about anything—anything at all. Zuster Slinga will be in from time to time.’

  He went to bend over his patient and then without saying anything else or even looking at her, went away.

  He returned, of course, several times, to study her careful charts, check Doctor de Groot’s pulse and scribble fresh instructions. Lucy, who had been cherishing all the dreams of a girl in love, however hopelessly, did what she had to do with meticulous care and calm and when, later in the day, she had a few minutes to herself, she tucked the dreams firmly away; they didn’t go well with the job she was doing. You’re a fool, she told herself as she sipped a welcome cup of coffee, and fools get nowhere—stick to your
job, Lucy my girl, and leave daydreaming to someone with the time for it.

  An excellent maxim which she obeyed for at least the rest of that day.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IT BECAME APPARENT to Lucy within the next day or so that they could have managed very well without her. Certainly Doctor de Groot was a very bad patient, ignoring everything that was said to him, ordering his own diet in a high-handed fashion and using shocking language when his will was crossed. Lucy took it all in good part, coaxed him in and out of bed, obediently held mirrors at the correct angle so that he could inspect the ten neat stitches Mr der Linssen had inserted alongside his spine and rationed his visitors with an eagle eye to the length of their visits. Mies came each day, of course, prettier than ever and usually with Willem in tow. She had a ring now, a diamond solitaire which sparkled and shone on her graceful hand. Lucy admired it sincerely and tried not to feel envy at Willem’s air of complacent satisfaction. It would have been better if she had had more to do, for once Doctor de Groot had recovered from the operation there was little actual nursing to be done. The wing was well staffed, a nurse could have been spared to look after him easily enough. She puzzled over it and on the third day, when Fraam came to pay his evening visit, she broached the subject, following him outside into the corridor as he left the room. But to her queries he made only the vaguest of answers, saying finally: ‘Well, Doctor de Groot likes you, Lucy, you are contributing to his recovery—besides, I’m allowing him home the day after tomorrow.’ He gave her a questioning look. ‘You’re happy? They’re kind to you? You get your off duty?’

  ‘Oh yes, thank you, everyone’s super. I’m glad Doctor de Groot is doing so well. I didn’t know that he was ill, he never mentioned it.’

  Fraam smiled. ‘No. But he began to lose the use of his fingers and it was noticed...’

  ‘By you?’ Lucy smiled with a warmth to light up her ordinary face. ‘Can he do a bit more when he’s home? He’s sometimes a bit difficult—I mean, wanting to go back to work...’

  ‘Out of the question for a little while, but we must think up something—someone from the clinic could call round each day and give him particulars of the cases...I’ll see about that.’ His eyes searched hers. ‘You’re to have a day off once he’s settled in—I’ll get a nurse to relieve you.’

  ‘I’m all right, thank you. I wouldn’t know what to do with a whole day to myself.’

  ‘No? We’ll see.’ He turned abruptly and strode away from her and she went back to her patient, sitting up in bed and grumbling because someone had forgotten to send some books he had particularly asked for.

  The move back to Doctor de Groot’s flat was made with the greatest of ease; the patient was getting his own way so he was his normal pleasant self, a gentle elderly man with a joke for everyone. Lucy prayed that his mood would last as she installed him in his own room and equipped the dressing room leading from it with the necessities she might require. And it did, but only until that evening, when Doctor de Groot exploded into rage because no one had been to see him. ‘Probably the clinic is in a complete state of chaos,’ he barked at Lucy. ‘Why has no one kept me informed? Why hasn’t Fraam been to see me?’

  As though in answer to his question the telephone rang and Lucy hurried to answer it. Fraam’s voice was quiet and calm. ‘Lucy? Can you get Doctor de Groot to the telephone? I’m tied up at the hospital, but at least I can give him some details about the clinic. Is he anxious about it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lucy baldly. ‘I’ll get him.’

  She gave her patient an arm across the room, pushed a chair under him and went out of the room and returned ten minutes later to find him quite cheerful again. ‘Willem is coming round in the morning,’ he told her. ‘He’s down at the clinic now, so he will have the very latest reports. Fraam won’t be over for a time.’ He cast Lucy a quick look and she schooled her features into polite interest. ‘Plenty of work at the hospital,’ he explained, ‘and his social life is rather full at the moment.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Lucy wondered which girl it was this time—perhaps it was the right one; she was bound to turn up sooner or later. She sighed soundlessly and said brightly: ‘Mies will be back tomorrow, won’t she?’ Mies was staying with Willem’s family for a couple of days.

  Three days went by. On each of them Fraam telephoned for a report on his patient and Willem, when he called, examined him before he sat down to recount the happenings at the clinic. It was quite late on the third evening, while Mies and Willem were at the bioscoop, that the front door bell sounded and Lucy went to answer it. ‘Hullo,’ said Fraam, ‘rather late for a visit, I’m afraid, but I’ve managed to fit it in.’

  Between what? Lucy asked herself silently. He was in a dinner jacket, so presumably he was either on the way to or from some social function.

  She wished him good evening in a rather colourless voice and led the way to her patient’s room. Doctor de Groot was sitting by the fire, a table loaded with books and papers at his elbow. He thrust these aside as his visitor went in and welcomed him with real pleasure, to plunge at once into a series of questions, brushing aside Fraam’s enquiries as to his own health. He did pause once to ask Lucy to make them some coffee and when she had done so and poured it out for them both, suggested that she might go to bed. ‘We’ll be talking for some time and I’m quite able to get myself into bed later on.’

  It was Fraam who answered him. ‘I’m going to take those stitches out—they’re due out in the morning, and an hour or two sooner won’t matter. Then Lucy can get you settled in bed and if you still want to talk, we can carry on from there. I can’t come tomorrow—I’m operating in the morning and I’ve a date after that.’

  ‘If you say so,’ grumbled Doctor de Groot. ‘I shall go down to the clinic tomorrow.’

  ‘No, you won’t. I’m free, more or less, on the day after, though; we’ll all three go, but don’t imagine you’re going to do any work. Willem can take over for a week or two. And Lucy must have a free day—after you’ve convinced yourself that the clinic is still standing, I shall hand you over to Mies for the rest of the day—Lucy needs a change.’

  Lucy stood listening to him, not all that pleased that he was arranging everything without a word to her. Supposing she didn’t want a day off? No one had consulted her about it—besides, in another week she would be going home again. She would have liked to have told him so, but he forestalled her by asking her where her own coffee cup was and when she said she didn’t want any, suggested that she should make ready for the removal of the stitches.

  Everything she needed was in the dressing room. She laid scissors and forceps and a sterile towel and swabs ready and waited there quietly while the two men drank their coffee. When they joined her presently Fraam asked, half laughing, ‘Don’t you like us any more, Lucy?’

  She didn’t answer but took his jacket when he took it off and then offered him a clean towel with which to dry his hands. The stitches took no time at all; Fraam whisked them out, laid them neatly on a bit of gauze so that Doctor de Groot might check them for himself, sprayed the neat incision and washed his hands again. ‘Shall we finish our talk?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘Certainly. Lucy, go to bed.’

  She eyed him calmly. ‘I can’t—not until Mies comes in, she’s mislaid her key so I’ll have to open the door.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’ Fraam sounded a little impatient. ‘I’ll see that Doctor de Groot gets into his bed, too. Goodnight, Lucy.’

  She wished them both goodnight in a quiet voice which betrayed none of the annoyance she felt.

  And the next morning Doctor de Groot told her happily that Fraam would be calling for them the following morning and could she be ready by ten o’clock. ‘A brief visit to the clinic,’ he explained airily, ‘and then you are to have the rest of the day to yourself. Mies will come for me in a taxi.’

 
‘When?’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, you will be able to see me safely into it before you go off.’

  ‘But Doctor de Groot, I’m not sure that I want to have a day off—I’ve no plans.’

  He waved a vague hand. ‘Plans? What does a young thing like you want with plans? All Amsterdam before you and you want plans! Go out and enjoy yourself—have you any money, my dear?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, enough for a meal and that sort of thing.’

  ‘Ah, good. If it’s not too cold outside, we’ll walk to the corner and back, shall we?’

  She had both of them ready by ten o’clock, Doctor de Groot well muffled against the chilly wind and herself buttoned into her winter coat. She was wearing a sensible pair of shoes too; if she was to spend the day walking around the city, she had better have comfortable feet. ‘What time shall I come back?’ she asked.

  ‘Any time you like, Lucy—take a key and let yourself in.’

  She had a clear mental picture of herself filling in the evening hours with a cinema and then eating a broodje as slowly as possible. She hadn’t enough money to go to a restaurant and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to even if she had.

  Fraam was punctual, driving the Rolls so that the doctor should have a comfortable ride. Mies had gone on ahead, for she had continued to work while her father was ill, but she would leave early that day in order to go back home with him. She had been a little mysterious when she had told Lucy the evening before, but Lucy hadn’t asked questions; it would be something to do with Willem, she supposed.

  The clinic was crowded with patients. Fraam, leading the way down the passage to Doctor de Groot’s room, sat him in his chair and said: ‘You may have half an hour.’

  ‘My dear Fraam, what can I do in that short time?’