PETER RAYNAL, SURGEON
Marjorie Moore
This is the story of Kay Somers, nurse, and Peter Raynal, a popular and brilliant surgeon. The strongly opposed forces of their respective characters bring them into a constant conflict which comes to a head when Kay is confronted with the loss of her position at St. Jude’s Hospital, and the breaking of her engagement to the ambitious young farmer who has been a lifelong family friend.
The story is set against the background of Hospital life and Kay’s own rural home, and brings into relief the diverse qualities of her nature. Her gradual change of heart is brought about through her affection for an ailing child, a reciprocated affection which pierces Kay’s natural armour of reserve. It is the child Christine’s influence on Kay which forges the first link of understanding between herself and Peter Raynal, an understanding which is destined to change the whole course of Kay’s life and bring her the joy and happiness which she had once believed lost to her for all time.
CHAPTER ONE
As Kay Somers crossed the quadrangle from the Sisters’ Home to the main Hospital building, her eyes lifted automatically to the clock. It seemed to Kay at that moment the clock had been her guiding force during all the years she had been at St. Jude’s. It wasn’t even an attractive clock, the once gilt hands were now rusted by many winters and its face was scarred and pitted. Yet that clock, set in a squat, ugly tower at the corner of the paved square, seemed to Kay to have influenced her every action since the day when she had been a timid probationer setting out on a nursing career. It had always retained the power to make her heart flutter and to fill her with apprehension. It might warn her of just two minutes to get back on the ward and report for duty, or a bare minute to find a seat in the lecture hall, and then after a few precious hours of leisure, it would send her hurrying to the nurses’ home, panting and breathless, to change back into uniform. It had certainly been an indomitable and ruthless master and yet—even today—as by a magnet, Kay had found her eyes drawn irresistibly towards it. The hands showed exactly eight, not even one second to spare, and Kay became aware of that habitual chill of apprehension. In a moment she had thrust it aside and with deliberate intent, slackened her pace; she even paused to cast a look of defiance in the direction of the impassive clock face.
It didn’t matter now, after years’ of discipline and routine, she could at last relax. With an unconscious movement her hand rested against the letter in the pocket of her crisp, print dress as if, by its very feel, she could add to her assurance. Robin’s letter, the contents of which she would divulge to Matron that very morning, the letter which would release her from hospital life, the letter which would set her free! Kay lifted her face to the sun which was just beginning to show above the dark outline of the building, until its warm glow touched the copper strands of her hair beneath the severe white cap and lit up the finely-etched features in the pale oval of her face. Her face, in repose, and almost devoid of any make-up and been too pale, too expressionless to be termed beautiful but, as the sun brought warmth to the transparent pallor of her skin Kay was, in that moment, radiant.
Perhaps not satisfied with its mere indication of the hour, the clock chimed in measured strokes, brooking no denial. Now force of habit was too strong and Kay hastened her steps, her footsteps echoing across the deserted quadrangle. She certainly must be late, she mused, a trifle guiltily, she couldn’t remember ever being quite alone to cross from the Home for morning duty.
The porter mumbled his customary greeting then, as if echoing her own thoughts, added: “Late this mornin’, ain’t you, Sister? ‘Five minutes to the hour,’ I sez to meself every time you pass. There is one or two—mentioning no names—” he added with a ponderous wink of one watery blue eye, “as don’t seem to lay much weight on a few minutes one way or the other, as you might say.”
That was just it, in a roundabout way the porter had expressed so much. When Kay had been promoted to the exalted position of Sister-in-Charge she had wondered whether now, after years of hard work she, too, couldn’t relax a little. It just hadn’t happened that way, habit died too hard, or perhaps it was an inborn sense of duty and certainly a knowledge that if she herself didn’t adhere to rules, she could hardly demand discipline of those in her charge. Kay swung back the heavy grilled doors of the lift and pressed the button. Today was different, Robin’s letter had opened up the vista of a new life in which rules and regulations would no longer exist and this sudden relaxation of normal routine was just a foretaste, the first straining at the leash of independence.
Nursing had been to Kay a serious job, not just a pastime to be embarked upon lightly but a wherewithal to live. The war years had brought to the hospital many others, V.A.D.s, girls doing a war-time job, girls who had come and gone, to whom nursing had been a passing phase in their lives: their attitude to the surroundings in which they had been plunged, had been full of cheerful expectancy. They had worked well, but even in doing so had managed to squeeze every ounce of fun out of their environment and yet remain untouched by the grimmer side of hospital life. Kay sometimes found herself envying these carefree girls, knowing in her heart that it was her own temperament, her sense of duty, and aloofness, which kept her apart.
As a child, and right through her school-life, Kay’s ambition had been music, the piano had been pivot of her existence and so assured had she been of her future, that it had been to that end to which she had always worked. Her training had all been planned when war had intervened and Kay, still bewildered by the turn of events, had found herself at St. Jude’s. In a very short time she had realized that this was to be no mere war-time job but a career. Her father’s sudden death after the first few months of Kay’s entry to hospital, had made any idea of an expensive musical training out of the question, and now peace had returned to a troubled world, a nurse she would have to remain.
A hum of activity assailed Kay’s ears as she opened the swing doors leading to Number Two Surgical Ward, of which she was in charge, and after a quick, experienced glance to see that all appeared in order, she opened the door leading to her own small office. The Staff Nurse who had been seated at the desk, rose immediately at Kay’s entry. “Why, there you are!” There was a note of relief in her voice. “I wondered if you were ill or something, I was just going to ring over to the Home...”
“And why should I be ill?” There was an unusual air of laughing defiance in Kay’s voice, so different from her customary calm and unemotional speech, that the other girl stared at her with surprise. “Why should my being a few minutes late on duty cause you such consternation?” Kay queried.
“You are always so dead on time ... and Heaven help any of your staff that aren’t!” Janet Ling responded promptly. “It’s really a comfort to know that the paragon can err,” she ended laughingly.
Nurse Ling had been Kay’s friend—perhaps her only real friend—since the first time Kay had donned uniform, and she had found Janet’s friendship a positive sheet anchor in those early weeks of training, and had clung to her with a gratitude born of despair. As Kay had gradually adapted herself to the exigencies of this new life, the friendship had in no way waned and, complete opposites as they were, they remained excellent companions. To Kay, Janet’s friendship was precious, since despite the passage of years and her now complete adjustment to the demands of hospital life, she had never found it easy to make friends. Her natural desire to succeed in any undertaking, her conscientious application to the job in which she had so unexpectedly found herself, a natural reserve born of an innate shyness, none of those things contributed towards popularity. She knew herself to be unsuited to community life, but willy-nilly she had been thrust into it. Determination and hard work had brought her to o
ne of the most senior Staff positions, but no effort of hers could change that part of her which remained forever remote and alien to her surroundings.
In complete contrast, Janet Ling was a born nurse, following the profession she had decided on since the days when she had bandaged her doll’s innumerable injuries, possessing that happy knack of squeezing through exams, always managing to escape from tight corners. Everyone loved Janet, from the women who scrubbed the wards to the honorary visiting staff, one and all had a smile for her. It was always a matter of surprise to the other nurses that Janet could be so friendly with Sister Somers, but, unlike Janet, they had never had the opportunity of knowing the warm-hearted girl beneath that surface of protective armor which Kay had unconsciously adopted.
“Having such an efficient Staff Nurse makes me wonder whether I’m needed at all!” Kay laughed as she slipped into the seat at her desk which Janet had vacated at her entry. “I see you’ve been through all Night Sister’s reports for me,” she added as she scanned the papers lying on her blotter. Then, deliberately pushing them from her, she swung round in her chair to face her companion. “Shall I tell you why I was late this morning?”
“You mean there was a proper reason—not your watch wrong, oversleeping or something?” An expression of surprised interest crossed Janet’s face as she waited for her friend to explain.
With a slow, deliberate action, Kay drew the now crumpled letter from her pocket and holding it firmly continued: “Janet ... I’m giving in my notice today ... I’m leaving, I’m going to be married.”
“Kay ... it’s not true! ... It’s not possible...!” Janet gasped with amazement as she sought for words. “But you’ve never said anything ... you’ve never told me ... who is it? ... when did it happen?” Her tone was one of delighted incredulity.
“It happened this morning ... I mean this letter.” Kay folded the envelope with an almost caressing action and replaced it in her pocket. “Surely you remember ... I have spoken to you about him, Robin Aldon, he and I, and my sister Penelope, we used to play together as children. His people had a big farm near us down at Thorndene and then, just before the war, he went abroad ... you remember I told you—” She insisted, then as her companion nodded assent, Kay continued, her voice warming to her story and a tinge of color mounting her cheeks. “He went out for an engineering firm, to Australia; then he was, like millions of others, caught up in the vortex of war. He joined the Australian army, but when he was demobbed he took up farming and now he is coming home to take over his father’s place. Well, we’ve always corresponded, we were sort of engaged to one another when he went away, but we were so young then, there couldn’t be any question of marriage, and at that time he expected to be back in three years and we decided to wait.”
“And how long is it now since you’ve seen this man?” Janet asked, still unable to grasp the full import of her friend’s words.
“Seven years! ... Almost a lifetime,” Kay laughed. “But Robin would never change, he is a bit like you, full of fun and tricks ... I remember once when he was home from Boarding School, he got in a jam with the Vicar over some stolen apples, so he sprinkled pepper all over the pews just before service and the congregation were just one long sneeze!”
“Well, he’d hardly do that kind of thing now, so I presume he’s changed in some respects,” Janet commented dryly, then added with some feeling: “It’s an awful long time since you’ve met this man ... don’t you think you are being a bit rash ... I mean wouldn’t it be better to see what’s happened to him in seven years?”
“Nothing would change Robin,” Kay stated with conviction. “—and anyway, if he has changed, I dare say I’ve changed too, we are both older and therefore, presumably wiser, so I’ve no doubt we’ll be as companionable as we always were.”
Janet leaned forward and impulsively put her hand over her friend’s. “Kay ... meet him again first ... don’t give notice yet, a week or so can’t make all that difference...”
“You silly thing ... don’t worry so much,” Kay laughed indulgently. “Robin and I always got on terribly well together and we always shall. We were in love with one another seven years back, but even if we find we aren’t quite so romantically in love as we were in our teens, does that matter? Can’t we be just as happy without?”
Janet shook her head dubiously. “I still think that you’d be wise not to give notice to Matron yet; do be sensible and meet this Robin again first.”
“Janet, be your age!” Kay admonished. “I’d rather have companionship with Robin without a vestige of romance, than spend the rest of my days, growing older and sourer in this place. You don’t understand how sick of it I am, how I loathe this endless routine, how I detest the smoke and dust of London, the grimy bricks and paint of this building, the same old faces every day, the endless, ‘Yes, sir, No sir,’ the dreary, depressing endlessness of everything!” A flush had mounted her cheeks again as she spoke and her eyes sparkled with feeling, bringing a new beauty to her face. “I’m not like you, I’m not popular as you are, I never have been and the more authority I get, the worse it is.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Janet protested but she recognized only too well the truth of her friend’s words. Kay wasn’t popular with the staff, she never had been. Janet always felt that Kay’s aloofness, which she so skilfully concealed, was the true key to her character. She was believed to be standoffish, unfriendly and reticent, harsh and exacting with her juniors, but Janet had found the real warmth beneath the hard exterior. She should never have entered a large hospital, never have undertaken such a career at all, Janet recognized that all too well; Kay had been too sensitive and her present attitude was the inevitable result.
“Janet, listen,” Kay leaned towards her friend. “Robin will reach England next week ... I’ve three weeks holiday due to me; I am going to ask Matron if I can take it from the beginning of next month, that means that I’ll be at Thorndene in time to greet him when he arrives. Of course I’ll have to give Matron a full month’s notice of leaving—probably longer, I can’t let her down, she has been awfully good to me. You know the dreadful shortage of nurses, I must give her a chance to get someone to fill my place. I’ll come back after my holiday ... after I’m married and work out my last month. Of course, it will have to be a very quiet wedding, there won’t be much time for anything elaborate, I’ll only have three weeks in which to be engaged, get married and settle down!” Scarcely pausing, Kay continued: “Settling down isn’t going to be so easy either, as Robin tells me that the farm will have to be entirely reorganized—it got in an awful condition during the war and then, after his wife’s death Mr. Aldon neglected it terribly. Since he died, at the beginning of the year, the farm has been in the sole charge of the old cowman and his wife. Most of the stock has been sold and I believe the farmhouse itself needs a heap of repair.”
“You seem to have everything planned out ... but wouldn’t it have been better to marry when you’ve really left hospital and your new home is ready?” Janet demanded practically.
“You see we want to do all the re-planning of the place together, we’ve got to be on the spot to do that and then—when everything is under way—Robin can carry on alone while I come back here.”
“I see,” Janet commented dubiously, then continued: “I’ve been so taken aback, and asked so many questions, I’ve forgotten to congratulate you!” Janet kissed her friend. “I hope you’ll be awfully happy, darling, you deserve to be ... I’m going to miss you terribly.”
“Not you! You’ve far too many friends!” Kay scoffed, but there was a note of regret in her voice. “You’ve been the only bright spot in all these years,” she spoke softly and with deep feeling, then, raising her voice to its normal tones she continued: “I’m hardly living up to my reputation, late on duty, chatting in work hours ... I must get on, I really must. Now, Nurse Ling, what about these reports, anything which needs attention?”
For the next half-hour the Sister and Staff Nurse busied the
mselves with the routine details so essential to the smooth running of the ward and “Number Two Surgical” held the record for efficiency. As Kay was ready to make a round of the ward, the telephone rang.
“Surgical Two ... Yes, Sister speaking.” She paused, listening for the message. “I see ... yes, I’ll be ready.” She replaced the receiver with a gesture of annoyance. “Front Lodge ringing through, Mr. Raynal has just arrived and will be doing his rounds this morning instead of this afternoon.” Kay’s lips tightened into a hard line of annoyance. “How I hate that man, he hasn’t the slightest consideration for anyone. A morning round indeed! And without a by-your-leave or a word of warning! He is absolutely intolerable, everything can go to the wall to suit his lordship’s convenience. I suppose he has a game of golf or something this afternoon so the mere question of work has to be arranged to fit in!”
“Kay ... don’t be absurd, Peter Raynal’s all right, a bit inconsiderate at times, I admit, but I don’t think he realizes it. He is a marvellous surgeon and, with his practice, I shouldn’t think golf gets much of a look in. He’s awfully popular here and the patients adore him.”
“Not only the patients!” Kay’s shapely lips curved sardonically. “If the nurses didn’t flutter round him so—yes, and the Sisters, too, he might not be quite so aggressively self-satisfied. I can’t stand the man and it’s hard work being civil.”
“I’ve noticed that!” Janet laughed and her cheeks dimpled provocatively. “You are very nearly rude at times and I shouldn’t think there is much love lost on either side.”
“That doesn’t worry me,” Kay spoke decisively. “He’ll be one of the reasons I’ll be glad to shake the dust of this place off my feet.” She paused, then added: “Tell the nurses that there will be a round this morning, they must hustle and get everything straightened up, dressings will have to be left until later, I’ll be along myself in a moment. I expect the great man will find everything in a nice muddle when he arrives...” Kay sighed. “Well, it will serve him right, he just asks for it.”
Peter Raynal, Surgeon Page 1
