Ring O' Roses

by Lucilla Andrews

  ‘I like soft-centres.’ She lit a cigarette. ‘I’m just not sure the time’s right. My dad says everything depends on timing. He says if you can get your timing right, you can be the biggest ham in the business and still have ’em queueing in the rain for a mid-week matinee in Wigan. Get it wrong, and no matter how talented, you’ll lay an egg. He says it’s the same off-stage, and that lots of people mess up their opportunities not because they don’t recognize ’em, but because they grab ’em at the wrong moment.’ She gazed at the bag. ‘Maybe I should take the dog-tooth check. Yes. I will.’

  She was still dressing when Peter came for me on Friday night. We didn’t wait as we were joining separate parties, if for no other reason than convention. The tables round the floor always were booked months in advance by the various Units. Comparatively, the A.U. staff was small and we had a single table for six. The Orthopaedic Unit needed two tables pushed together and fourteen chairs. Being the social event of the hospital year, the residents always drew lots before buying tickets. The losers stayed on either in their own jobs, or on loan. Stan had kept out of the draw, which automatically freed George Charlesworth. He was with Dolly, and Dave Palmer, smirking with his luck in the draw, had brought the very pretty Nurse Fisher.

  Stan was running the A.U. with Hamish Geddes, a locum anaesthetist from Swansea, and Mr Smith from Emergencies. Stan sent us a message on a memo sheet via one of Harry’s night porters. ‘Minorities appeased. Smith’s home, Ulster. Have requested precautionary peace-keeping force from U.N. Enjoy dolce vita, but kindly refrain from bringing pieces for repair to A.U. as scuppers already awash with blood and beer from regular customers.’

  The lace frills on Dave’s shirt provided universal joy and attention until Joss walked in with Roxanne. Her tight-fitting, apparently seamless, sleeveless black velvet dress had a high halter neckline and was split up the left side to mid-thigh. She wore no jewellery and had taken off her watch. The effect hit Peter, as well as every other woman in the room, like a bomb.

  Dolly said without rancour, ‘I feel like a Christmas tree.’

  Peter was breathing carefully. ‘That’s her job. Have to switch yours, Dolly, if you want to afford fifty quid on a dress.’

  I said, ‘That dress didn’t cost Roxanne fifty quid. Cost her five sixty including the zip. I was there when she bought the material. She made it herself. She likes sewing.’

  Fisher was intrigued. ‘I’ve seen her on telly commercials. You actually know her, Sister?’

  ‘Been sharing a flat with her for years.’

  ‘So that’s how our dear Mr D. drew the jackpot! Just because you and he were kiddiwinks together? Why don’t any of my dear old kiddiwink chums introduce me to birds that look like that?’ Dave was so concerned with his woes he did not notice another houseman removing Fisher until they were on the floor. ‘Oh, villainy! I have been robbed ‒ but robbed!’

  Peter tritely observed that would teach him a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush ‒ even if poured into black velvet.

  George Charlesworth reluctantly took his eyes off Dolly. ‘Who’s everyone going on about? That bird with Joss Desmond? Oh ‒ yes ‒ not bad. Dance, Dolly?’

  Dancing with Peter, I said George revived my faith in human nature. Peter was glad I had any faith left to be revived. ‘Let’s get some air.’

  The ball was in the Medical School’s largest ground floor lecture room. The building stood away from the wards and as it was a fine night, all the french windows were open. We went out on the terrace and leant on the stone balustrade overlooking the river. The water was black and smooth as oil. The lights on the embankments and the bridges lined and strung the blackness with yellow diamonds. The empty office blocks on the far bank were towers of white diamonds, and the skyline of the City was charcoal petrified lace against the pink-black London sky.

  Peter propped his chin on his hands. ‘When I was a student, I thought I’d never be able to leave this. Not that I seriously thought I ever would, if I thought at all. Don’t believe I did. I just had a vague idea that if I hung around long enough Membership ‒’ he smiled at himself, ‘‒ and M.D., the lot ‒ would somehow drop into my lap. S.M.O., the Staff, Dr Anthony, sir, Sir Peter Anthony. Lord Anthony. All I needed was patience.’

  ‘Patience you’ve got, Pete.’

  ‘No. You’re mixing it up with laziness. But I don’t just want to move off now, as I can’t be bothered to make the effort to stay. I now know that if I sweated my guts out, I’d never make the top grade here. Martha’s may turn out specialists by the dozen, but I’m not specialist material.’ He turned to watch the dancers passing the open windows. ‘Not in a million years would it have struck me to risk offending our top brass and getting out of step here, by demonstrating my conviction that some Benedict’s man knew more about my line than our own pundits. You don’t get to the top without taking chances. I don’t like taking chances. Thought I did. I don’t.’

  I had turned and we were both watching Joss and Roxanne. ‘Nor did my father. He loved being a G.P. I think he was a very good one.’

  ‘Joss says he was first-rate.’

  ‘Do you think his gamble’ll pay off?’

  He nodded gloomily. ‘Hoadley’s sold on him. Fair enough. He’s a bloody good surgeon and he works bloody hard. Everyone at the top in medicine knows everyone else, so they’ll have heard across the river. If he’d mucked things up here, Benedict’s would never have forgiven him for opting out for Martha’s, but if they aren’t already cooking the fatted calf, I’ll bet it’s ordered.’ The music stopped. Roxanne, smiling, stretched out both hands to Joss. ‘Nothing succeeds like success. Nothing at all.’ He swung round to face the water. ‘Roxanne’s doing very well too, isn’t she?’

  ‘Very, though a model’s life at the top is generally very short-lived. Have you done anything tangible about G.P.ing?’

  ‘There may be an opening in Leeds in the New Year. A joint practice. Don’t suppose I’ll get it, but I’ve applied.’

  ‘Roxanne’s home town. You must tell her. She’ll be very interested.’

  ‘For God’s sake ‒ why?’

  ‘Aren’t you interested in anything concerning your own home town? And she may know some of the partners. Her father lives there. I know it’s a big city, but most cities break down into villages and everyone in a village knows everyone else’s business and more than somewhat about the nearby villages. Got an interview? Then ask her tonight when you dance with her. She’s leaving for a job in Venice on Sunday and she might be able to give you some helpful hints if only about which football team not to support.’

  He said, ‘You’re still a lousy liar, Cath. So you think I should dance with her?’

  ‘I’m thinking of Stan. He’ll be hellish narked when the river police fish you out of the river.’

  He hesitated, then laughed. ‘Almost worth it to see Stan’s face when they wheel me in. Come on. Let’s participate.’

  Sir Hoadley was sitting by Roxanne at the O.R. tables when we returned to our own. In common with the many pundits present, he was in tails. Since there was no Accidents’ consultant, we all agreed champagne was the only possible antidote to our deprivation symptoms. The popping of Sir Hoadley’s shirt-front and the redness of his face provided additional consolation, but we had to avert our eyes from Dr Lincoln Browne. At any Martha’s function for the last quarter of a century, the tall, elegant cardiologist had been, and remained, amongst the top three most attractive men present. His grey streaks had altered to white since I last saw him and he had a few more lines and no longer danced since he had had his first coronary. I did not expect him to remember me as it was years since I worked in Cardiacs, but he bowed from across the floor. Dave asked if I shared a flat with him, too?

  ‘Unfortunately, no.’

  Miss Evans was impressive in grey lace, Miss Mackenzie terrifying in what appeared to be a black shroud. Sister Florence, the oldest and stoutest sister in the hospital, was draped in purple satin. She
loved dancing and stood no nonsense about waiting to be asked. ‘Come along, boy! We’ll dance!’ Having on some occasion in the last twenty years had every member of the nursing staff present as a patient, she toured the tables methodically, checking up on her ex-patients’ health, husbands, babies, teenagers’ prospects of getting into university, and future nursing careers. ‘Can’t expect you gals to stay single these days.’ She lowered herself into Dave’s chair and we all sat down again. ‘Too many young men about. First time in history you gals are in a minority group. Enjoying it, eh? Sure you are! I would’ve loved it!’ She peered at Fisher. ‘How’s that throat, child? Behaving itself? Good. No more trouble with that back, Nurse Jones? Thought it would clear up.’ It was my turn. ‘No more of that bronchitis you had in your first year? Always said you’d grow out of it.’ She noticed Dave’s stance. ‘Straighten up, boy! Remember your vertebrae! Want a curvature before you’re my age?’ She suddenly beckoned Joss from the edge of the floor. ‘Well, Mr Desmond? Missed you in my ward, lately. Good news from Malta, eh? And who’s this pretty gal? Why don’t I know you, Nurse? You’re not a nurse? Pity. You know how to carry yourself, child. Take my chair ‒ I want a word with Mrs de Winter.’ She moved on to the next table.

  The second, and olde-tyme group, started up again as I introduced Roxanne to the A.U. party. Joss stood watching in silence with his shoulders back and eyebrows up. Peter dithered until Roxanne smiled straight at him. Two minutes later, Joss and I were alone. He had sat in a chair on the other side of the table before he remembered he was not my brother. ‘Or do you feel strong enough for a schmaltzy waltz?’

  ‘My feet,’ I said truthfully, ‘are killing me.’

  He smiled politely. ‘Then I can give you the message I should’ve handed on earlier. Arne Alesund rang me this evening. They’ve both flown over for a fleeting visit and want us to meet them for lunch up here tomorrow. He rang from Asden.’

  ‘Tomorrow I’m on at one ‒’

  ‘I said that was on the cards. He suggested coffee, a drink before lunch, or both. Seems they’ve some specific reason for wanting to see us. Nina would’ve written you but she’s somehow sprained her right hand.’

  ‘I can make anything up to twelve-thirty. How about you?’

  He grinned. ‘Free man. Holiday started this afternoon.’ He stood up as Dr Lincoln Browne was suddenly at my elbow. ‘Evening, sir.’

  ‘Good evening, Doctor ‒ and to you, Miss Maitland.’ The pundit smiled on us both as he shook my hand. As Joss was a surgeon and had never been one of his students, he obviously did not recognize him. Martha’s had roughly ninety residents and even more post-graduates around, and when in doubt all strange men were addressed by the title ‘Doctor’, and more often than not, correctly.

  Dr Lincoln Browne refused a chair as he was leaving and had already said goodnight to Miss Evans. ‘Seeing you having this brief rest, I couldn’t waste the delightful opportunity. I know you’ll be glad to hear I’ve had a most charming letter from our mutual friend, Mrs Desmond. I was very glad you sent her to me,’ he added seriously. ‘It’s a rare pleasure to be able to remove a genuine anxiety from an intelligent patient. Wish it happened more often. Well! I must just have a final word with my old friend Sister Florence. Very nice to see you back in our midst, Miss Maitland. Goodnight to you both.’ He bowed himself off to the next table. Joss bowed back.

  I glanced from the next table to Joss. ‘Listen ‒’

  ‘While we indulge in a little therapeutic schmaltz.’ He came round and offered his hand. He said nothing until we were dancing. ‘Do tell me,’ he murmured in my ear, ‘to whom have you sent my old man? And Danny? One does rather like to know these things when they concern one’s own family.’

  My head knocked his chin as I tilted it back to look at his face. ‘She didn’t want to worry you.’

  He gave an equivocal little grimace. ‘When did this come up? That Saturday at home?’

  ‘Yes.’ I remembered our conversation as we left the vicarage.

  So did he. ‘Crafty little bitch, aren’t you, darling.’

  ‘Joss, I didn’t think it necessary ‒’

  ‘To encourage the lad’s Oedipus? Dead right. Can’t be too careful with these unnatural emotions. Think where it got Oedipus. Still ‒ thanks.’

  I gave up. ‘Forget it. Did Arne Alesund give you any idea why they particularly want to see us?’

  ‘He said they’d rather do that vis-à-vis. My guess is, they want us to lean on the Prof.’ He smiled. ‘He’s just cracked another new walking-plaster, bouncing on it when no one was looking. His ward sister told me last week she’d be whiter than him before he left. The only way they can get him to rest at all is to hide his crutches. Obviously, takes more than that to restrain the tough old Viking, but he is seventy-six and he has been bloody ill. The Alesunds had hoped to fly him home tomorrow, but he said this afternoon he’s quite happy to hang on a few more days and ta-very-much but he hates flying and when he goes home he’s going as a good Norwegian should, by sea. And he will ‒ if he doesn’t bust his neck testing the next new plaster.’

  I was smiling. ‘Or telling the Captain how to steer across the North Sea.’

  ‘That’s for sure.’ He held me closer and we finished the dance in an apparently companionable silence. Being, as we later discovered, the penultimate dance, it was longer than usual. I found it so long I was very glad when it ended. Joss then said he would ring me in the morning after ringing Arne Alesund and took Roxanne back to his own table. Peter collected me.

  Next morning Arne Alesund handed me a sherry and Joss a beer. He raised his own beer. ‘Skål!’ His accent was much stronger and his English less perfect than his wife’s. ‘Good practice for next weekend, no?’

  Joss looked as bemused as I felt. ‘Skål!’ we said.

  Chapter Eleven

  The mountains were growing higher and changing colour. They ranged the length of the northern horizon, sepia and charcoal, black and navy blue, all streaked with white and patches of dark green velvet. The long vivid blue slits of the fjords ran softly inwards, like venous blood returning to an invisible, gigantic heart. Beyond the coastal range were more mountains, and beyond those, more mountains, rising up and up to the end of the world. The farthest mountains were half-hidden in mist.

  As we sailed closer, the pale grey sea was broken by innumerable rocky islets speckled with moss and scrub bushes and lined with patient rows of sea-birds. The sea was smooth and the morning sun gentle in a cloudless sky.

  Joss folded his arms on the rail beside me. ‘Pebbles plopped on the water by some absent-minded giant. Incredible,’ he mused, ‘to think we’re so far north in autumn. This could be the Med in spring.’

  ‘No Force Ten gale,’ I murmured, and felt rather than saw him look at me, curiously. Having woken with the type of crashing headache that fills the brain with painful cotton-wool and seals off the world behind a thinner layer, it was some seconds before I recalled never having seen the Mediterranean and tuned in to his train of thought. ‘Pity your Malta project had to be cancelled.’

  ‘I’m not all that sold on the sun and I do like Scotland. I hope this weather lasts when I get to Edinburgh next week.’

  ‘This chum Naomi flew back with one of your old chums?’

  ‘Yep. From Benedict’s.’

  I made no comment partially owing to my headache, partially as I was wondering if he would now tell me Naomi had seen Miss Evans on Wednesday afternoon. When he didn’t, I did not tell him I knew she was not returning to Martha’s, or that my five days were now tacked on to a two-week holiday. This was our first real conversation alone, since our brief chat over travel arrangements yesterday between Asden station and Asden General. Professor Ulvik had regretted even more volubly than the Alesunds that I was not free to spend longer in Bergen. Since I hadn’t known this could be possible till Wednesday night, by which time the Alesunds, at their own expense, had fixed our shipping tickets and the project was already cutti
ng a large enough chunk out of Joss’s holiday, it had seemed only tactful to keep it quiet.

  I only learnt on the morning after the ball that Joss’s previous arrangements had been turned upside down, as Naomi had suddenly decided she wanted to join him in the U.K. Joss said he had already cancelled his flight ticket, but offered no other explanations to the Alesunds or myself. The former had been delighted. ‘Speaking frankly,’ said Arne, ‘we are much pleased and much relieved. The Professor is tall and with his plaster, very heavy. A man is necessary to support and ‒ maybe ‒ keep him a little quiet, no? But Thursday, business forces me to Oslo. I would not be content for Nina, or any other girl, to come with him alone on the sea. Last weekend we had a hurricane. Speaking frankly, next weekend ‒ who knows?’

  When Joss drove me back to the flat, I said I was surprised Norway sounded as much a man’s world as England. ‘I thought the Scandinavians were too civilized for that kind of nonsense.’

  He frowned at the car ahead. ‘Not knowing, can’t say. But as the Prof standing just clears six five, even though he hasn’t an ounce of spare flesh, isn’t it just possible Arne’s argument has a practical rather than prejudiced basis? Almost certainly, you’ll outlive me, but the fact remains my muscles are stronger than yours.’

  ‘And trained nurses don’t learn how to lift?’

  ‘Cool off, Cathy!’ We could have been back in the vicarage schoolroom. ‘Only one weekend. They know we’re free, we don’t want to upset ’em, so we’re hooked. As the Chinese so wisely say ‒ relax, and enjoy it!’ He drew up and said he would be in touch. He sent me a postcard from the vicarage saying the weather was good, Naomi had guessed the correct weight of the cake at the W.I. ‘bring-and-buy’, he would meet the 11 a.m. at Asden on Thursday morning and whatever else I forgot, to remember my passport.

  Miss Evans had been off duty on Wednesday night. It had been a heavy day in the A.U. Monday and Tuesday had been worse. We now had the full staff back, but when the Office rang to say Miss Evans wanted to see me in her flat, as Miss Evans always did her own dirty work, I was convinced my five days were about to be written off, but was too busy to work out whether I was glad or sorry.