‘I must go,’ he announced to Julie’s relief. ‘I’m due in the theatre, and there’s a busy afternoon ahead. Can I take you out to supper tonight, Julie? They’re putting on something special at the Blue Moon.’
‘I can’t tonight.’ That was the truth. ‘I’ve arranged to give Nurse Bailey a home perm when she comes off duty. I don’t want to let her down.’
‘You couldn’t let anybody down, dear. It just isn’t in your nature.’ Ian made the remark and was gone, closing the door gently behind him, but instantly Julie’s resentment towards him was gone. That always happened, she reflected ruefully. Ian irritated her by persisting in giving the impression that he thought she was playing ‘hard to get’ and really loved him after all, and that it was just a matter of time before she gave in and said she would marry him. Then, just when she felt she could scream aloud in annoyance he made some completely sincere and very sweet remark and she knew that although she could never love him she would always like and admire him.
‘It’s all very difficult,’ she told herself as she checked her patient’s pulse. ‘But I’m sure a girl must know when it’s really love...’
There was little to do but to watch and wait, and Julie found herself thinking of the young man who lay so still and silent in the neat hospital bed. It seemed strange to see him thus, when her memory of him was vibrant with his quick, enthusiastic voice, the passionate zeal with which he had expounded his theories. How tragic if all that inspiration for a dream community were silenced for ever!
‘I’m getting morbid,’ she thought grimly, busying herself in checking his temperature. ‘We’ll save him—and his hands. We’ve had worse cases than this, by a long chalk. Worse cases, yes, but Garth wouldn’t want simply ‘saving’; unless he could carry on with the work he loved he was the sort of person who would wish he had never been brought back to life. It was a relief when Nurse Stephenson came quietly into the room and announced that she was ready to relieve Julie for a brief spell.
‘Mrs. Andy’s arrived with her daily load of produce,’ she told Julie, ‘and she wants to see the nurse who’s specialling Mr. Holroyd’s case. I think Mr. Greensmith has been talking to her,’ she added.
Julie nodded. Ian would have been putting forward his suggestion that she should be the nurse who accompanied Garth Holroyd to Woodlands, the Crossman estate just outside the town. Andrew Crossman manufactured agricultural machinery, and most of the small township had more than one member of the family in his firm’s employ. Woodlands was the focal point. From its hothouses and extensive home farm, produce was sent daily to the hospital, the children’s home and, in small baskets, to those whom it would benefit the most. Andrew was a very good man, but everyone knew it was Mrs. Andy who sought out the most needy cases and decided what could and should be done about them ... and did it.
Julie went along to Matron’s room where, Nurse Stephenson said, Mrs. Andy was waiting for her. She tapped on the door and entered. Matron smiled at her, murmured a few words and was about to leave them when Mrs. Andy, a small plump figure with silver hair and the rose-petal complexion everyone admired, waved her cigarette in its long holder.
‘Don’t go, Matron, please, ‘ she said quickly. ‘There’s no necessity. I simply wanted to see Nurse for a moment.’ Her blue-grey eyes regarded the girl keenly. ‘Aren’t you the nurse who specialled the Braithwaite children?’ she asked.
That was a case she would never forget, Julie thought, as she agreed she was. The Braithwaite twins had been trapped in their caravan home when a lamp had been overturned and the van had become a blazing inferno within a matter of seconds. The children had been saved, but were badly burned and, now Julie remembered, it was the near-tragedy of that event which had aroused Mrs. Crossman’s interest and activity in the Civic Development Scheme. In a roundabout way it was the same incident which had sponsored Garth’s present position as prizewinner in the competition which had been thrown open to all qualified architects within a range of one hundred miles.
‘And the case of Jack Porter?’ Mrs. Crossman persisted.
‘Yes, that too.’ Julie smiled. Jack Porter had been an employee of Andrew Crossman’s, trapped when testing one of the newest machines. Something had gone wrong, and the machine proved unsafe.
The old lady nodded.
‘A sound and reliable girl,’ she told Matron, who gave her customary smile and agreed. ‘Mr. Greensmith,’ Mrs. Andy went on, speaking directly now to Julie, ‘suggests that when Garth—Mr. Holroyd—is ready to convalesce, you accompany him to Woodlands. I shall be happy to have you. We must have a chat about the requirements and so on before that day comes. I understand there will have to be wax baths, all sorts of massage and treatment for many weeks and perhaps months. Think about it when you’ve talked with Mr. Greensmith, and remember that anything which will add to your own or to your patient’s comfort and well-being will be arranged for you. Just one more thing,’ she added as Julie, feeling herself dismissed, prepared to leave. ‘I can’t interfere in a young man’s choice of a future wife’—for a moment the rose-pink lips set in a disapproving line—‘but if you’re able to have a talk with that dramatic-looking girl who claims she is Garth’s fiancée, please make it clear to her that I have no time for hysterics and such nonsense as that. She will be welcome as a visitor to Woodlands, but only when Mr. Greensmith says so, and not then if she upsets Garth in the slightest. Garth Holroyd is a brilliant young man with a wonderful future ahead of him. This town needs people like him, and his future must not be spoiled before it has even begun. You understand?’
‘I think so, Mrs. Crossman,’ Julie said cautiously.
‘I’m sure you do.’ The elder woman smiled. ‘You’re far too sensible not to understand what I’m trying to say,’ she went on crisply. ‘I could only wish—for his own sake—that Garth had chosen someone like yourself to share his life!’
CHAPTER II
The next five days passed so slowly that it seemed to Julie she had spent a lifetime at the bedside of Garth Holroyd, and yet the young man showed no signs of returning to a knowledge of the world around him.
Tansy Maitland, the girl who had been with him in his little car on the night of the accident, had, reluctantly, gone back to her own small flat after being assured repeatedly that she would be called the moment there was anything at all to report.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve been a nuisance, Nurse,’ she confessed to Julie, ‘but I’m very anxious...’
‘We understand,’ Julie sympathized. ‘It isn’t the same for us, I know, but please believe me when I say we are all ... anxious, too. Once he is able to recognize people, to talk to you, even a little, it won’t be so very frightening, I assure you.’
‘Will he know what happened?’ Tansy asked again. ‘I don’t mean about the trailer. I mean ... will he, for instance, know what we were talking about when the thing hit us?’
She looked so upset, so genuinely distressed, that Julie was determined to reassure her, whether she spoke the exact truth or not.
‘I should imagine so,’ she said gently. ‘It’s hard to tell in cases of concussion. Sometimes there is a temporary loss of memory, acute depression and so on, but that we shan’t know until he regains consciousness. Anyhow, as soon as Mr. Holroyd is conscious, I’ll personally see to it that you’re the first person to be notified. I can do no more than that.’
‘Thank you, Nurse. I was right, you are kind. You don’t treat me as if I’m a spoiled child the way all the others seem to do. You have my address?’ she ended, asking the question for at least the tenth time.
Julie nodded. ‘I have it,’ she assured the other girl. ‘Don’t forget, if you have a sudden call from your agent or whoever it is, leave word where you can be contacted.’
‘It would have to be something important to get me away from here right now,’ Tansy commented. Julie smiled and turned away, but she had only gone halfway down the corridor when Tansy came running after her.
‘Nurse,’
she began, her tone curiously agitated as it had been when Julie first encountered her, ‘what about Garth’s car? Where is it, and how badly is it damaged?’
‘I don’t know quite where it is,’ Julie told her truthfully, ‘but I should imagine it’s in Bell’s garage. The police took it away after the accident. They and the insurance companies—that is Mr. Holroyd’s company and the one used by the owner of the lorrywanted to examine it, of course. Why? He won’t want to hear about that the moment he comes round, I assure you,’ she said, smiling, but there was no answering smile on the face of the girl who stood before her.
‘Would they let me see it, do you think?’ she asked. ‘I ... they’ve got to. I left something of mine in the car; something very valuable. I must see if it’s still there.’
‘I don’t know much about those matters,’ Julie confessed, glancing at her watch and noting that she was due in Emergency Three where Nurse Stephenson was awaiting her relief, ‘but Mr. Greensmith may be able to help you. He’s very kind, and if it can be arranged for you to get whatever it is I’m sure he’ll do that for you,’ she ended sympathetically.
Tansy thanked her and hurried away, her sharp high heels tapping along the corridor in a manner, Julie reflected, that would have made Matron shudder had she heard it. Julie smiled to herself as she turned to take up her duty. She had seen quite a bit of Miss Tansy Maitland during the past five days, and although there was something she could not understand about the girl she could quite see why almost any man would be attracted by her. She was like a kitten, Julie decided, a soft, playful little ginger kitten, but—her smile disappeared and a small frown took its place—she, like Mrs. Andy, could not understand how a serious and dedicated person like Garth Holroyd had managed to get himself engaged to someone like Tansy Maitland.
They’re poles apart, Julie decided, turning into the small white room. Especially their work...
It had been something of a shock to discover that Tansy earned her living—and a fairly good one too—as an entertainer, singing ‘pop’ songs with a local band. She had appeared once or twice on television, and that, Julie had decided, must have been where she had seen her before, but she still seemed an odd sort of choice for a young man who had talked so expertly on planned houses, time-and-motion saving in the modern kitchen and all manner of things which Julie felt certain would not interest Tansy.
‘No change,’ Isobel Stephenson murmured as she prepared to leave. ‘I wish he’d regain consciousness.’
‘He will,’ Julie said with far more assurance than she felt. ‘It’s just a matter of time.’
‘But how much time?’ Isobel asked. ‘These cases have been known to continue for months.’
‘We can only wait,’ Julie said, and her heart added, And pray. He needs all the prayers we can offer ... but Isobel left, and Julie kept her thoughts to herself.
She bent over her patient. Certainly he looked stronger. His temperature chart did not appear nearly so erratic as in the first few days, and his pulse was stronger too. She stooped to smooth the top sheet, and as she did so she was abruptly conscious that his eyes were open and that he was staring at her with a puzzled expression. Instantly she bent over him, smiling her professional reassurance.
‘It’s all right, Mr. Holroyd,’ she said gently. ‘You’re quite safe. You’re in St. Luke’s Hospital. There was an accident and you’ve been hurt, but you’re going to be all right.’
‘My head?’ The words seemed half strangled in his throat and he began to struggle hard in an effort to sit upright. Gently Julie restrained him. Her orders were to contact Ian the moment her patient returned to consciousness. ‘ Lie still for a moment,’ she ordered, picking up the telephone and giving her message for Ian. ‘Now—’ She was back at the bedside again, restraining him so gently that he was scarcely aware of being held back. ‘We’ll see what Mr. Greensmith, the surgeon who is looking after your case, has to say before I allow you to sit up.’
‘My hands!’ Julie felt she would never forget the despair, the horror in his voice as he held up the two bandaged hands. ‘What happened, Nurse? What happened to my hands?’
‘Just cuts and bruises,’ Julie told him soothingly. ‘I tell you again, Mr. Holroyd, you’ll soon be all right. Just relax and rest, and wait for Mr. Greensmith...’
‘I know you, don’t I?’ The words were totally unexpected. ‘Don’t tell me I’m wrong...’ He was beginning to grow agitated. ‘Were you with me when—it happened? I know your face ... I—we were at some sort of party, I think. No, it was a dance. That was it. You were wearing a blue dress and you had a big pink rose just at your throat...’
Startled, Julie suddenly realized he was describing the dress she had worn for the Hospital Ball on New Year’s Eve, the night they had talked so much together and he had asked her for a date. For the first time she wished desperately that Ian would walk in. He would know what to say, how best to deal with this unexpected development, but apparently Ian had been delayed.
‘I do know you.’ He was becoming more insistent, more agitated with every passing second. ‘I could never forget your face. It’s not a face to forget! We talked about my housing plan for the new development scheme.’
‘That’s right.’ She spoke as soothingly as to a child in the throes of a nightmare. ‘But that was six months ago, at the New Year Hospital Ball. It’s June now. I wasn’t with you last night, but you’re right about everything else. There was a girl with you, and she’s all right ... not even bruised. You saved her. That’s how you come to be so cut and bruised yourself. You shielded her ...’ But he had drifted off again, although this time, Julie was thankful to see, into his first natural sleep since the accident had happened.
‘Call me when he wakens,’ Ian told her a few minutes later, disappointed because he had not been there during the few moments Garth had been talking. ‘He may have recovered more of his memory after a natural sleep. It will be time enough to call that girl friend of his when he has had a little rest! It’s strange, though,’ he eyed Julie closely and she wished she had not felt it her duty to report in full the brief conversation with her patient, ‘that he should remember you—what you wore, what you talked about, what you looked like all those months ago, and still he hasn’t mentioned the girl who was with him, the girl who says she is his fiancée.’
‘I expect it’s because mine was the first face he saw when he recovered consciousness,’ Julie offered in explanation, but even in her own ears the words sounded unconvincing. ‘That and the fact that we did talk a great deal about his plans for the new development scheme, and that must have been in his mind a lot lately. I wonder’—the thought struck her suddenly—‘if he knows he won? Nurse Stephenson said Miss Maitland didn’t know until she told her. It wasn’t made a public announcement until the morning paper came out ... after the accident happened, after the party or whatever it was he’d been to was all over.’
‘There’ll probably be a letter waiting for him at his home,’ Ian said thoughtfully. ‘We’ll see how he is when he wakens. I think we can reassure him about his hands, and that will give him the incentive to obey orders until he has recovered sufficiently to take up his new position,’ he added. ‘Don’t tell him anything, not even if he asks, which I doubt if he will do. I’ll find out first how he reacts to the knowledge of the length of time it’s going to take to get back the full use of his fingers.’
Julie was almost ready to come off duty when Garth opened his eyes again. The relief in their depths was unmistakable when he turned his head and saw her still sitting there.
‘I thought you were a dream,’ he said shyly. ‘I couldn’t be sure...’
Julie pressed the bell and sent the student nurse who came hurrying to answer its summons in search of Ian. By the time she had given Garth the drink he asked for, Ian was with them and there was no time for more conversation, which was both a relief and a disappointment strangely mingled. As they had anticipated, his first question was about his hands and his
future career. All Julie’s sincere admiration and respect for Ian rose to the surface as she heard him say that ‘there will be no need to worry, providing you’re willing to obey orders for some time. Your hands will, eventually, be as good as ever they were, but it will take time. We’ve performed a slight operation, but you’ve been very lucky. The cuts were the worst things we had to contend with, and the plastic surgery boys have done a fine job there. You will have wax baths for your hands, massage, exercises, and you must conform religiously to the set rules. I’m sure then that in time you will be able to forget that your hands were ever damaged at all. But you must do as you are told, and when you pause to consider that I’m talking to the winner of the new plan for the Civic Development Scheme,’ he was, Julie realized, choosing his words with deliberation, ‘you will realize just how much is at stake and remember that every time you find an order or an exercise irksome.’
There was no mistaking Garth’s delight, his resolve to do everything in his power to aid the work of the doctors and nurses, but; Julie realized, so far there had been no mention of Tansy, no word of what might have happened just before the accident and which was obviously causing her so much distress. He turned his head on the pillow suddenly and looked directly at Julie.
‘Nurse,’ he said fretfully, ‘you said there was someone with me. A girl. That I saved her. Where is she? Can I see her? It’s funny’—she could half see, half sense his frown under the bandages—‘but I do remember a girl, a pretty lady with chestnut curls all over her head, but I don’t remember her being with me or anything about the accident at all. I don’t remember much, except that there had been some sort of a party. It’s all mixed up, because I thought at first you were there, but it wasn’t your sort of a party. I’m sure of that now. I don’t understand it...’
Ian gave her a signal and Julie moved over to give her patient a sedative and to soothe him down, since to become agitated would be the worst possible thing in the circumstances. When he was drifting off to sleep again Ian smiled down at her, the queer, lopsided smile which never gave away quite what he was thinking.
Nurse Saxon's Patient Page 2
