by Betty Neels
She felt mean when Bart said at once that of course she was to do exactly what she wished. He would see that the car was at the door when she wanted it. ‘The doctor doesn’t expect to get home until late this afternoon,’ he volunteered, ‘there’s an outbreak of food poisoning in two of the local schools and he expects to be fully occupied.’
‘Nasty,’ commented Eloise. ‘It might take a little while to clear up, too.’ And by the time it was, she would be miles away and probably forgotten.
After Mevrouw Metz and Bart had gone, Eloise gobbled down her breakfast, bathed and dressed again in her ruined clothes and went downstairs still feeling mean, although she reminded herself repeatedly that one man’s poison was, in her case, her meat; it would be more than unkind to feel pleased at the outbreak of food poisoning, but it would undoubtedly keep Timon fully occupied until she was safely away. At the door, wishing Bart a guilty ‘Tot ziens,’ she asked: ‘Juffrouw Barrema, is she expected to call today?’
Bart gave her an inscrutable look. ‘I really couldn’t say, miss.’ She had a feeling that he could have told her more than that, but at least she had the satisfaction of knowing that if Liske did come, she wouldn’t be there to offer apologies she didn’t mean.
She got into the car, waved once more to Bart, and drove quickly to Mijnheer Pringle’s house.
She hadn’t stopped to consider what she would say to that gentleman when she saw him, and she was spared that worry by finding him from home. Juffrouw Blot, made aware by some means or other of her last night’s adventure, found nothing strange in Eloise’s awkwardly expressed statement that she was returning to England at once, for she had known that she would be leaving on the same day as Mijnheer Pringle. She went away to fetch Eloise’s case and then to make coffee while Eloise tore into another dress and coat, quite frightened that Timon might have returned home unexpectedly and be even now on his way to fetch her back.
The taxi she had asked Juffrouw Blot to get was at the door by the time she got downstairs; she scribbled a hasty note to Mijnheer Pringle, wishing him goodbye and a pleasant trip, aware that it was quite inadequate but unable to think of anything better, exchanged a warm embrace with Juffrouw Blot, and jumped into the taxi.
It wasn’t until they were in the crowded streets of Groningen that she began to feel safe. She paid off the taxi at the station and bought herself a ticket to Schiphol. The fare was quite frightening, but she paid it recklessly, telling herself that it was a small price to pay for getting away so easily and ignoring the small voice at the back of her head telling her persistently that she didn’t want to get away at all—never to see Timon again, to have to think of him married to Liske; she would make him a terrible wife… She stood on the platform waiting for the train and wished she were anywhere else but where she was.
She had plenty of time for reflection once she was in the train; it was a quite lengthy journey and once at Amsterdam she had to find her way to the KLM terminal and board the bus for Schiphol and once there arrange a transfer to an earlier flight; the one she had booked wasn’t due out for another two hours, too long a time to wait. She toyed with the idea of telephoning Mijnheer Pringle and dismissed it. He would only tell Timon and the whole object of her flight, to disappear decently with no fuss, would be defeated. She would write when she got back to the hospital; she had the address in Curaçao. She sat through the short flight with an empty mind which refused to cope with any plans for the future, it was enough that she had returned without difficulty. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep but instead found herself thinking of Timon.
She was expected at St Goth’s, that at least made life more normal; she went to her room and put away her things and sat down to decide what to do. Her application form, already filled in, was in the drawer where she had left it; she supposed that she should go at once to Miss Dean’s office and hand it in. It was really a little awkward; she was actually no longer on the staff even though she had been allowed a room until she returned from Holland. Presumably if she got the Sister’s post, she would be given a bedsitter in the Sisters’ Wing. The prospect left her indifferent; a secure future, a chance to climb to the top of the nursing profession, a steady income with a pension at the end of it…anything but that!
She went downstairs and asked for an appointment with Miss Dean early the next morning and presently went to supper, where she ate nothing at all, pushing the food round her plate while she answered her friends’ questions about her stay in Holland. She telephoned her mother later, telling her almost nothing, allowing her to believe that she would accept the post of Night Sister if she should be offered it. Time enough to let her know her plans for the future when she knew them herself. She then went to bed and cried herself to sleep.
She got up in the morning resolved not to shed another tear, and made her way to Miss Dean’s office. That lady received her kindly, inquired after Mijnheer Pringle’s health, hoped that Doctor van Zeilst had been satisfied with her services as a nurse and then waited, hands clasped before her on her desk, for Eloise to speak.
She could have been no more surprised at Eloise’s next words than Eloise herself; she heard her own voice, quite calm and unhurried, telling her superior that she had decided against applying for the Night Sister’s post, indeed, against hospital work of any sort, at least for the time being, and as this decision had only at that very moment entered her head, even though she had known since the night before that she wasn’t going to apply for the job, she could only gape when Miss Dean inquired with well-concealed surprise if she had any idea what she was going to do.
Eloise uttered the first thing which entered her head. ‘I want to go a long way away,’ she stated clearly, ‘and look after children or babies—but it would have to be in the country.’
Miss Dean, a practical woman even when confronted by the unlikely situation of one of her most promising nurses apparently without her wits, answered immediately: ‘In that case, Staff Nurse, since you are not technically on the staff, I am free to make a suggestion. Should you wish for a temporary post while you reconsider your position, I may be able to help you. My brother is headmaster of a boys’ prep school in Cumbria—near Buttermere, but rather remote. He telephoned me only yesterday and mentioned that the school matron had a nasty attack of shingles and was desperate for a substitute. About two or three weeks, I believe, probably less. If you are interested, I could recommend you.’
‘I should like that,’ said Eloise without stopping to think about it. ‘It’s just what I want.’
Miss Dean reached for the telephone. ‘And of course,’ she went on smoothly, ‘if you feel differently at the end of your stay there, I will consider your application to rejoin the nursing staff. It would have to be as a staff nurse, you understand, but there will be other Sisters’ posts.’
Eloise said: ‘Yes, Miss Dean,’ but she wasn’t really listening. Cumbria was a long way off and no one would know that she was there. By no one she meant Timon, of course; not that he would want to know, although it would be wonderful if… She came back to her surroundings with a jerk to find Miss Dean speaking on the telephone and looking at her in a questioning manner. ‘I asked,’ said that lady patiently, ‘if you could travel up there today? There is a train about noon and you would have to change at Lancaster for Keswick where you will be met—there is a car journey of half an hour from there. Your expenses will be paid and you will receive a salary pro rata.’
‘That will do nicely.’ Eloise watched her boats burning behind her and didn’t care at all.
Miss Dean spoke into the telephone, put down the receiver, asked: ‘You have enough money, Staff Nurse?’ and when Eloise said yes, she had: ‘Then I suggest that you go and pack a few things for your new job.’ She smiled nicely. ‘And I hope to see you again shortly.’
Eloise said: ‘Yes, Miss Dean,’ which could have meant anything, and wasted no time; there was her mother to telephone, there was a case to pack and the warden to see about her room; she sh
ould by rights give it up instanter, but since Miss Dean had left a loophole for her, surely she would be allowed to keep it for another week or two, in case she came back. But she wouldn’t do that, she knew that for certain now; she would have to find a job as far away from London as possible, something which would keep her so busy that she would have little time to remember. She told herself bracingly to be thankful that things had turned out so well, gave her mother the bare bones of the matter in an over-bright voice which disturbed her parent very much, packed a case with suitable clothes for the Lake District in early winter, bade brief goodbyes to such of her friends as she could conveniently find, and took a taxi to the station.
The journey was uneventful, but throughout its length she didn’t allow herself to think deeply; she speculated on the job ahead, took a close interest in the scenery, and read several newspapers from cover to cover without taking in a single word. It was a relief to reach Lancaster at last and catch the local train to Keswick. The country was worth looking at now, and Keswick, when she reached it, looked charming. She got out of the train eagerly, anxious to get the journey finished with now, for it seemed hours since she had left London and it was as though she were in a different country. There weren’t many people on the platform and she spotted the man who had been sent to meet her almost at once—one of the housemasters, Miss Dean had told her, and here he was, looking the part; tall and thin and stooping. Just for a moment she thought she had been mistaken, though, for he stood lost in thought, not looking about him at all, but then, apparently remembering where he was, he gazed around him, saw her and came at once, peering at her through pebble glasses.
‘Miss Bennett? Ah—welcome. I’m Carter—John Carter. You have no idea how glad we shall all be to have you with us—our Miss Maggs is laid low and we are lost, completely lost without her.’
If they were all like him, thought Eloise, that seemed very likely. She wished him a brisk how do you do, exchanged a few banalities about the journey and accompanied him outside the station to where a Landrover was drawn up to the kerb.
Mr Carter put her case in the back and opened the door for her to get in beside him. ‘The school’s rather remote,’ he explained, and set off at a pace which rattled the teeth in her head.
They left the town behind them quickly enough, taking a road which led them through the hills, already only dimly to be seen in the dusk, and after the first mile or so Eloise quite saw why Mr Carter drove a Landrover, for they turned off on to a side road presently, which dipped and twisted over rough ground, its own surface none too smooth. Mr Carter drove badly, with the manner of a man who hated doing it, any way and he spoke little, answering Eloise’s questions with a minimum of words, so that presently she gave up trying to hold a conversation with him and sat staring into the dark, wishing that it was Timon sitting beside her.
It was a relief when they arrived at a very small village and her companion stated: ‘The school is another mile along this road—there’s a drive on our left.’
As indeed there was, marked by two very small lodges, built apparently for dwarfs. The drive ran, straight as a ruler, to the imposing pile of the school, standing well back from the road, lights shining from its windows. Eloise, who was hungry, was glad to see it at last.
Mr Carter drove round to a side door, stopped the Landrover with a frightful jolt, took her case inside, muttered something about putting the car away, gave a great shout for someone called Mrs Emmett, and went away, leaving Eloise standing uncertainly in a gloomy passage wondering what to do. She didn’t have long to wait, however. A small, round woman with grey hair and pale blue eyes appeared through a door, talking as she came. ‘You’ll be the new matron—you’ll want a meal and see your room, I’ll be bound.’ She picked up the case and opened another door for Eloise to go through. There was a staircase in front of them, and with Mrs Emmett toiling ahead of her, Eloise went up it, heartened by the thought of supper. Her room was close by the stairs, and comfortable enough with a small electric fire and an armchair drawn up close to it.
‘Bathroom’s down the passage,’ Mrs Emmett told her, ‘supper’s in half an hour; I’ll be back for you in twenty minutes so’s you can see the headmaster first.’ She smiled and trotted off, leaving Eloise disappointed; she would have liked a cup of tea, but it seemed she wasn’t going to get one, so she explored her room, unpacked her case, inspected the white uniform and little caps someone had thoughtfully provided for her use, did her hair and face and sat down to wait for Mrs Emmett.
‘You’re the housekeeper?’ she inquired when that lady reappeared.
‘Yes, Matron—and a busy woman I am, too. If you would just come with me, Dr Dean will see you now.’
They went back the way they had come and down another passage which brought them out into the main hall where the housekeeper tapped on a door, opened it, gave Eloise’s name, and disappeared, leaving Eloise to get herself into the room and cross its vast carpet to the desk where the headmaster was standing.
He looked stern, but perhaps he had to because of the boys in his care, but he wasn’t as old as she had expected, although a beard did add to his age. He greeted her in a no-nonsense fashion, thanked her for stepping into the breach, begged her to take a chair and gave her, very briskly, a rsum of the tasks which she would be expected to perform.
‘You have had no experience of school nursing?’ he wanted to know. ‘Miss Maggs, our regular Matron, has of course spent a lifetime at it and is naturally an expert at her work.’
And she would need to be, Eloise fancied, if she performed half the jobs the headmaster had rattled off so glibly. He resumed: ‘This is only a temporary post, as you know. We hope that Miss Maggs will be back before long. Meanwhile, we are very grateful to you for filling in for her.’
It was obvious that these gracious words marked the end of the interview. Eloise got to her feet and he marched to the door beside her and opened it, saying: ‘Please feel free to come to me if there are any problems.’
There were dozens, and the most pressing one was where did she go for her supper. She was standing in the hall wondering which door to open when a youngish man came into the hall. ‘Lost?’ he asked. ‘You’re the temporary Matron, aren’t you? Come with me and I’ll show you where we have supper—with the boys, I’m afraid, but don’t let that affect your appetite.’
Nothing would affect it. She followed her guide along a long passage to double doors which opened on to the dining hall, a vast, lofty place and very draughty. It was filled with long tables, lying parallel to each other and presided over, as it were, by another table raised on a platform at one end of the hall. Evidently this was where the staff sat; she could see Mr Carter standing behind a chair, looking down at the boys waiting to sit, presumably when he said so. Her companion hurried her along, introduced her to such of the staff who were within speaking distance, indicated a chair and went to stand at his own chair. Mr Carter must have been waiting for them, for he said a lengthy grace and everyone sat down. Eloise, sitting between two learned, grey-haired gentlemen, found herself facing the boys below her; there seemed to be an awful lot of them; she had forgotten to ask how many—some of them seemed quite small and she supposed that they sat in houses, for at the top and bottom of each table there were older boys sitting, but she didn’t waste much time on speculation; a maid was bringing round plates of soup and that interested her far more.
Supper was a substantial meal and she enjoyed it, as she enjoyed the conversation of her neighbours. They all stood through another long grace, in Latin this time, and with her original guide to show her the way, went back to her room. ‘There’s no one sick at the moment,’ he told her, ‘but if you like to go to the end of this passage you’ll find the sick bay; it might help if you were to explore it.’ He grinned at her. ‘My name’s Sewell, by the way, Dick Sewell.’
‘And mine’s Eloise Bennett—thanks for showing me around.’ She bade him goodnight, and did as he suggested, to discover that
the sick bay was ten-bedded, well equipped and cheerful. There was a small treatment room leading from it as well as an isolation ward with one bed in it. She pottered round for half an hour or more, discovering where everything was, and on her way back to her room met Mrs Emmett.
‘Miss Maggs and me usually have a cup of tea about now,’ said the housekeeper pleasantly. ‘I wondered if you would like one with me?’
‘Oh, please—and perhaps you could tell me one or two things—what time to get up and if there’s a sick parade, and do I go to the hall for breakfast…’
‘We’ll go to my room, Matron, and have a little chat.’ Mrs Emmett led the way downstairs and ushered Eloise into her own sitting room, crowded with old-fashioned furniture and with a great many photos in frames arranged on every available surface, but it was homelike and the tea was hot and strong and there were biscuits with it. Eloise sat by the old-fashioned fireplace and toasted her feet while her companion gave her a bird’s eye view of what her day would be. A long one, by all accounts, starting at half past seven in the morning and ending after supper, and taking in the checking of the laundry, the inspection of the boys’ clothes, the sick parade, the attending to any minor injuries and the care of any boy in the sick bay. Eloise went to bed presently, trying to remember everything she had been told, all the same, it was of Timon she was thinking when she finally went to sleep.
She got through her first day’s work very well. There were several boys with cut fingers, chilblains, sore throats and boils, but once she had dealt with them she was free to work her way through the laundry, piled high and not attended to since the unfortunate Miss Maggs had been carried off sick. She inspected the dormitories too, a little vague as to what was expected of her, and after lunch she had an hour or two to herself. It was a clear, chilly day, so she wrapped herself up warm and went for a brisk walk down to the village where she bought a few odds and ends at the only shop and then telephoned her mother.
