Silent Song

by Lucilla Andrews

  She polished her nails on her bib. ‘I feel a reflected glory in having my senior staff nurse move in such well-heeled circles. The Rolls bring you to work today?’

  ‘No, Sister. I said I’d make do with the Merc.’

  She laughed. ‘Can you bear to get down to some work?’

  ‘I’ll force myself, Sister. What else has been happening?’

  ‘No changes over the week-end, but you’ll be losing Mr Renner to the Private Wing on Wednesday. He doesn’t know yet. L.B.’s afraid to tell him too soon and he’ll have a battery of phones, ticker-tape machines and reporters waiting in his room.’

  It was a routine rather difficult Monday, and made no easier by the way I kept wondering when George was going to appear and then wishing he would go away when he did. Previously, he had never said much when with Charlie and Dr Francis. On his own, with or without the anaesthetist, he said even less. No-one in Coronary Care apart from myself found this at all odd, since he had the hospital reputation for being a silent man. It was not till that week that I properly realized how much his professional self differed from the one to which I was more accustomed. This had great advantages. He not only looked but was so integrated in the normal professional scene that there were times when I forgot I had ever known him as anything but another man in a limp white coat, dangling a stethoscope, with walkie-talkie, throat torch and pens jammed in his top pockets and the inevitable registrar’s file of notes under one arm. Then some minor movement of his head, or expression in his watchful eyes cracked memory wide open, but instead of feeling physically sick, all I felt was total incredulity. This only happened in Coronary Care, since after that one evening in the canteen, I never saw him elsewhere. He hadn’t said more about the portrait since that second phone call and as it must have gone to Richard, and Ruth and Alistair had gone out of my life, it seemed highly unlikely that I would have much more to do with him in his alter ego. I decided fate had done and was still doing its damnedest to sling us together, and that even now he’d turn up in Peking, pick up the pieces for me, say there, there, and the best of British, and walk away. I was quite sorry for fate, but as we were very busy, I hadn’t much time to spare for sorrow. I was just aware that it was there ‒ rather like a toothache.

  Shirley and I were on the three to midnight on Tuesday and when we got on Mr Renner had been told of his move. He and I waved at each other, but as I was mostly with Messrs Neal and Spark, our illest patients, I didn’t get in C.1. till the evening. Mr Renner asked if I could spare him a few minutes as he had a proposition to put to me.

  I was very curious. ‘Yes, Mr Renner?’

  He offered me a two-year contract, with options, first as his private nurse when he left Martha’s, and later on the medical staff employed by the Renner Corporation in New York. All hotel and first-class return travel expenses paid and a downright astronomical salary. ‘Does this interest you, Staff Nurse?’

  I needed breath. ‘Mr Renner, thanks very much, but I am already under contract ‒’

  ‘That could be arranged.’

  ‘Well, thanks, but not for me.’

  ‘You like it right here?’

  I wasn’t all that sure. I was sure I didn’t want to move. ‘Yes. I’m sorry if that sounds ungrateful and I appreciate the compliment ‒’

  ‘Mrs Dorland, I do not pay compliments. You are a good nurse. My organization can always use good nurses. If you should maybe later change your mind, even if I have gotten a private nurse for myself, the offer of the job in New York remains open. I will see you have this in writing before I leave St Martha’s. Are you off in the forenoon, as today? Then as you may be too busy later, I must now thank you so much for all the good care you have taken of me. It has been a real pleasure to meet with you, Staff Nurse.’

  His handshake wrecked my knuckles for the night.

  Mary was on the desk and our corridor full of men watching monitors. I had the place to myself and was writing the report when Dr Lincoln Browne strolled in looking quietly pleased, hitched up a stool, and passed me a sheaf of Path Lab results. ‘Young Marlene’s latest.’

  I flicked through them. ‘Doctor. Much better!’

  ‘Much. Joe’s seen them and I’ll let you have these back, later. I first want to take them above stairs.’ We looked at Marlene. She was asleep and in the night light looked even younger than fifteen. ‘A nice child with guts. Young Trevor gone back to Bert’s auntie?’

  ‘Half an hour ago, Doctor.’

  Slowly, he studied the live monitors. ‘Spark’s beginning to settle. H’mm, h’mm, yes, Neal’s picking up slowly, steadily, much the best way ‒ Miss Jordan ‒ h’mm ‒ exemplary behaviour from our American friend. Be strange not to see him in there after tomorrow.’ He smiled as he turned to me. ‘I must let you in on something, Mrs D., but as I have not yet been able to share it with Sister Cardiac as she’s off, keep it to yourself, pro tem.’

  I was agog. ‘Of course, Please ‒ what?’

  ‘Mr Delahay has just paid me a formal call on Mr Renner’s behalf to ask, very properly, if it will be in order for Mr Renner to offer us some token in recognition of his gratitude to the staff of Coronary Care. Needless to say, I assured Mr Delahay no token was required, expected, or with the exceptions of flowers or sweets to the ward, permitted in St Martha’s. Mr Delahay then admitted the nature of the token I appeared to have in mind was not precisely the one entertained by Mr Renner.’ His smile deepened. ‘ “Pray, sir,” said I, “enlighten me.” He did and in consequence I have accepted gratefully on behalf of St. Martha’s, the firm and written offer of a new kidney machine.’

  I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh.

  ‘Doctor, how splendid!’

  ‘One appreciates these small tokens from grateful patients! And I suspect the nursing staff will also receive their flowers and sweets. Mr Renner is too shrewd to be unaware of how very much he owes to good nursing. Our mechanical aids,’ he added, ‘are very useful, correct diagnosis and treatment are of great importance, but today ‒ just as when I started in cardiology over thirty years ago when all our gadgets were either in their infancy or uninvented ‒ the two most vital factors in a cardiac patient’s recovery remain the same; the patient’s will to live and good nursing. Remove those two and no physician can hope for a cure.’

  I blushed. ‘Thank you for us all. Please, may I hand that on?’

  ‘With my compliments to you all.’

  I could have hugged him. As I couldn’t, I told him about Mr Renner’s offer.

  He was very amused. ‘The old devil! Save his life and he tries to snitch one of my best nurses. That’s the way to make your millions! You weren’t tempted? Gooood. I’ll forgive him. We can use that extra machine and, if he has recently added twenty years to my age, I’ve had worse patients. Is that clock right? Then I must return above as Mr Roseburn should now be back in the surgeons’ room and from the situation below when I left his theatre gallery a short while ago, St Martha’s most eminent surgeon should now be giving a spirited rendering of “Fight the Good Fight” under the showers ‒ with excellent reason. Another of my blue babies is blue no longer.’

  I wished Sister had been on as I longed to hand on the kidney machine with his bouquet and the good news about Marlene. The girls were as enchanted with those last two as I was and though we remained busy, it was one of those nights when everything went right. At midnight, Shirley and I sailed down in the lift in an euphoric daze of content.

  Admissions’ Hall was very quiet. The desk porter was reading a paper; three medic students in residence for the week were reading paperbacks in the front row of wheelchairs by the lodge; the lodge porter was chatting over his counter to Paul Villiers and two other housemen. Paul was out of his white coat as he was off-call and waiting to walk Shirley home. She shared a large flat with four other girls two roads on from my block and when Paul was not free at this hour used her bike and carried a large, furled man’s umbrella across the handlebars.


  ‘Hold it, Anne.’ George came quickly down the last flight of stairs and slung his white coat over his shoulder. ‘I’m coming your way.’

  Shirley blew us a kiss and vanished with Paul. The housemen and students watched us trail after them with the disgruntled open curiosity of juniors on-call for seniors who were off. Being sufficiently euphoric to be convinced I was suddenly on a winning streak, I chatted about Marlene, our good evening, their blue baby, and as I was certain that by now he must have heard of it from Mr Roseburn, the kidney machine. We had crossed the road before I realized he hadn’t opened his mouth since we left the Wing. ‘Hadn’t you heard?’

  ‘Yes. Hours ago.’

  I waited expectantly for more. I was still waiting when we reached my block’s front door. In the neon street lighting his face was greenish and extraordinarily grim.

  ‘Is anything wrong, George?’

  He took a good half-minute to answer. ‘I’d like to talk to you, Anne. But as the subject matter isn’t one I’d care to thrash out on a doorstep, may I come up?’

  It took me about the same time to touch down. ‘So something is wrong?’

  ‘Only if you haven’t agreed to become the fourth Mrs Renner.’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Mind if I smoke, Anne?’

  ‘No.’ I found him an ashtray. ‘I didn’t know you did.’

  ‘I’m trying to kick it before it kills me.’

  ‘Want a drink?’

  ‘No thanks.’ He watched me from the other end of the sofa. ‘It was just a straight business deal?’

  ‘That’s all.’

  ‘And you only heard about the machine from L.B?’

  ‘Yes. Just who was it meant to soften up?’ I demanded. ‘Me, Miss Evans, or both?’

  He said evenly, ‘He’s not noted for being a public benefactor, and as it’s common knowledge you’ve this close relationship with him ‒’

  ‘Of course I have! He came in moribund, I was his senior special and with him the hell of a long time in the valley of the shadow! I’ve done a lot of specialling in and out of I.C. Units, so let me tell you ‒ as this I know ‒ it’s impossible to do the job properly and not end up with a close relationship. Only a lousy nurse stays unemotionally involved, but the emotions involved are seldom, if ever, sexual ‒ and God help any Martha’s nurse if they are! No-one else here will! We’re warned from PTS onwards the only quicker way to get chucked out ‒ and without a reference ‒ is deliberately to poison a patient!’ I had to stop for breath. ‘This is all round our Wing?’

  ‘At registrar level.’

  I walked round the room. ‘There won’t be a night senior in the hospital who hasn’t heard by morning. Nothing spreads news so fast as the night rounds. I must see Miss Evans first thing ‒ or write off my future as Sister Cardiac.’

  ‘You do want that job?’

  Angry as I was I heard the doubt in his tone. ‘Yes. Eventually. Why? Has my not accepting officially added fuel?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Another ugly thought hit me. ‘And the Delahays?’

  ‘Would they’ve taken you up without Renner’s blessing? Does Delahay breathe without first checking?’

  ‘God save us! You medics!’ I forgot the Good Samaritan, the kid gloves, that Jilly was on holiday in France and the girls upstairs away. I wouldn’t have cared had the Board of Governors been present. ‘Thank God his heart’s been wired up since admission and there’s always someone on our desk. If not you lads in the surgeons’ room could’ve had yourself a real frisson! And don’t bother to look wooden! I haven’t been nine years here without learning medics have a rare talent for digging dirt!’

  ‘It releases tension ‒’

  ‘That’s no excuse!’

  ‘Wasn’t meant to be. Just an explanation.’ He stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette. ‘I think you’re right to see Miss Evans quickly, but not to take the rest so hard. Merely a good Cinderella story ‒’

  ‘Cinderella landed a prince not a job!’

  ‘No man with Renner’s brain would overlook your ethical position or dislike of leaving under a cloud. What better alibi for easing Cinderella out and across the Atlantic?’

  ‘With a kidney machine as something to remember her by?’ I jeered.

  ‘I can think of worse mementos. It’ll save lives.’

  ‘Didn’t strike the lads it could be a disinterested, generous gesture?’

  ‘With Renner’s reputation as a smart operator, bank balance, and well-known close relationship with you? No. He can buy what he wants, and since once the news broke the bit about your turning it down got left out, it was assumed what he wanted he was buying.’

  I felt myself go white with rage. ‘Thanks very much.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He lit another cigarette. ‘This is why I thought we should get off the doorstep ‒ and why I thought the story needed checking. I don’t know you well, but well enough for this not to add up. Also, having outgrown Mother Goose and being an outsider, it was easier for me to see without the rose petals.’

  That he was trying to be kind made me even angrier. ‘Doesn’t smell of roses to me! Still, thanks. Don’t hesitate to let me know who the lads pick to replace Clive B! And you might throw in a list of the men with whom I’m supposed to be sleeping. We sex-starved merry widows like to know these things!’

  He got rid of that cigarette and stood up. ‘Have you anything to drink?’

  ‘Sherry. That cupboard over there. Glasses beneath. Help yourself.’

  He poured one glass and handed it to me. ‘Now you’ve got that off your chest, knock this back and cool off.’

  ‘Cool off? Expect me to like being worked over in the mens’ room? Do you wonder I’m over-sensitive?’

  He put his hands in his pockets and looked at me in silence for quite a time. ‘No,’ he said. ‘In fact, as you persist in trying to kid yourself white coats should only be worn over hair shirts, and Martha’s is so bloody minded about appointing female residents that you work exclusively with male medics, I’m only surprised you haven’t this more out of balance. How can you expect not to be worked over? You must know perfectly well that any pretty girl with your figure and legs and anti-medical chip is bound to be a sitting duck for speculation any time anyone runs out of conversation. Nothing stimulates the imagination like the unattainable ‒ provided the giftwrapping’s seductive. If you’ve forgotten what your uniform does for you girls, check up on your Freud. Whilst on Freud ‒’ his voice altered to a tone I had forgotten he possessed but instantly recalled as he went on ‒ ‘isn’t it time you took another close look at that chip ‒ and dropped it?’

  I stared at my untouched sherry and felt as if listening to one of those records on which the solo singer is backed by a tape of his own voice. ‘You can’t blame his job any more than yourself, Mrs Dorland. Why he didn’t bother to do up that belt came out of his character. That was formed before he met you or reached Medical School.’

  The solo took over. ‘Or hadn’t you realized it’s still there, Anne?’

  I didn’t look up. ‘Not consciously until now.’ He was silent. ‘Finished?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry you’re upset.’

  ‘I’ll get over it. Thanks for saving my professional neck.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that ‒’

  ‘I would. I know my own hospital. If you pull the door below and it clicks, it’ll be locked behind you.’

  His feet didn’t move. ‘I don’t like leaving you in this state.’

  I looked up then without seeing him too clearly. ‘You’re a kind man, George, so do me another favour as I just don’t bloody fancy any more of your Galahad bit. Get out, please.’

  He went in silence, quietly closed my front door and went quickly down the stairs. I heard him talking to one of the girls on the ground floor and the clink of milk bottles before the click of the door below. I drank the sherry after I stopped weeping and thought how I hadn’t wept so uncontrollably since that time in his arms. I felt
too ghastly to wonder if it had done me any good, but it certainly helped me to sleep. I wasn’t conscious of turning over twice.

  I made an appointment to see Miss Evans at a quarter-past nine. She was on the telephone when I arrived and I had to wait a few minutes in her outer office. From the expressions of the four Office Sisters and three secretaries, they were uncertain whether to get out the red carpet or guillotine and were playing safe by pretending I wasn’t there.

  Miss Evans was a polite, pleasant, experienced administrator with humorous eyes and a tough jaw. She asked me to close the door, sit down, folded her hands on her blotter, smiled and waited.

  I hadn’t intended telling her the whole truth, but all I actually left out was George’s name, job and sex. I called him a friend.

  ‘This was after you finished last night?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Evans.’

  ‘Poor child, no wonder you look as if you’ve been through a mangle this morning. What a good thing you’re off till one. Well, now ‒’ she smiled in a different way, ‘as you’ve been so honest, I’ll tell you some, if not all of this has reached me. I was, as you expected, perturbed. This kind of thing can and does happen from time to time, and though it makes interesting reading in the popular Press, it does not, in my opinion, do our profession any good. I’m thankful to say it hasn’t happened in St Martha’s whilst I’ve been C.N.O., but I can recall a couple of occasions when we had to lose excellent nurses. One in my own set. Particularly sad in her case as the marriage later proved disastrous. She was my friend, but I can’t only blame the man for this. Not all ministering angels remain angelic at the kitchen sink. However, we can forget all this and get on to more pleasing matters. May I take it from this that you have now decided to accept the post of Sister Cardiac when we lose Mrs Bell?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Evans. Thank you.’

  ‘Thank you, m’dear, for coming to me ‒ and not being tempted to work in New York for this fabulous salary. When you get Mr Renner’s written offer, if you care to bring it to me to rough out your reply, do so by all means.’