by Betty Neels
‘You’ll get an ulcer, Sir Charles,’ she said severely.
He agreed comfortably. ‘Now, Mevrouw Doelsma. She should do. I think. Had a nasty coronary, but it seems to be settling. There’s always the chance of another one, though. Let me know at once, Maggy. You know what to do until I arrive.’ He got to his feet. ‘I must go.’ He gave a friendly smile, and made for the door which Maggy was holding open for him. ‘Glad it’s you looking after her, Sister. Couldn’t wish for anyone better. If anyone pulls her through it’ll be you.’ He nodded in a satisfied way and went.
The rest of the day was busy. Maggy found to her annoyance that Madame Riveau had still refused to have her X-rays. She would have liked to have seen her husband during the evening visiting hours, but there was no nurse available for specialling after six o’clock, so she left Staff in charge of the ward, and went into Sep herself. It was ten o’clock before she could be relieved by a night nurse.
Mevrouw Doelsma was an excellent patient, and had gone quietly to sleep. Maggy thought she had a good chance of recovery.
Williams wasn’t on duty until one o’clock, so that Maggy had a very busy morning. She was glad to go off duty after dinner, although she knew she would have to come back early. There was a nurse off sick, and extra beds up and down the centre of the ward. But she didn’t mind hard work. The ward was straight by seven o’clock, and she sent Williams and a junior nurse to supper. It was visiting time; the patients were occupied with their visitors. Maggy sat in Sep with the door open, so that she could see down the ward, and watch Mevrouw Doelsma at the same time; she was awake and lying quietly.
The restlessness came on suddenly. Maggy put down the report book and got to the bed as Mevrouw Doelsma gave a couple of painful gasps, went livid, and lapsed into unconsciousness. Maggy turned on the oxygen, and strapped the nasal catheter in position, then drew up and gave an injection of morphia. Only then did she press the button which would turn on the red light above the door of Sep. There was little hope of a nurse back from supper; there was a full five minutes to go, but someone might see it and come to investigate. She could feel no pulse under her steady fingers; she adjusted the BP armband on the flaccid arm, but could get no sound through the stethoscope; with it still swinging around her neck, she turned to draw the heparin and mephine.
She knew exactly what to do, and did it with calm speed, reflecting that it would have been easier with two. She had the syringe in hand when Dr Doelsma walked in. Without a word she handed it to him, and held the limp arm rigid so that he could inject the blood vessel in the elbow. ‘Heparin,’ she said. ‘I gave morphia’—she glanced at the clock—‘two minutes ago. The mephine is drawn up.’
He nodded, jabbed the needle in, took the mephine from her and gave that too.
She gave him the stethoscope and said quietly, ‘I’ll ring Sir Charles.’ She sent her urgent message, and went back to find the doctor sitting on the edge of the bed, his mother’s hand in his.
Mevrouw Doelsma still looked very ill, but they could see now that she wasn’t going to die. Maggy wrote up the charts; Sir Charles would expect them accurate and ready for him. Dr Doelsma was using the stethoscope again; he took it off and handed it to Maggy. This time it recorded something—a poor something, but obviously the drugs were having effect. They agreed their reading, and smiled at each other; she could see how anxious his eyes were. They both stood looking down at the face on the pillow between them. It held some semblance of life again, and as they watched, the eyelids fluttered and his mother’s eyes opened. She looked at her son and then at Maggy, and a tiny smile came and went, but as she was about to speak he gave her hand a warning squeeze.
‘Don’t talk, Mama, everything’s all right. You shall have your say presently.’
She smiled again before she closed her eyes again. They stood on either side of her, patiently waiting. There was nothing very much to do now, except regular and frequent pulse and BP checks. By the time Sir Charles arrived, it was normal. He looked at the charts while he listened to Maggy’s concise, brief report. He nodded at Dr Doelsma. ‘Not much for me to do, eh, Paul? Lucky you turned up when you did.’ He spent a little time examining his patient and said, ‘She’ll do, thanks to you, Paul.’
The other man shook his head. ‘It is Sister MacFergus whom we must both thank. She did everything necessary in the most competent manner.’
Sir Charles smiled at Maggy. ‘Yes, she always does. A most reliable girl.’
The two men stood looking at her; it was a relief to find Staff Nurse at her elbow.
‘Shall I clear up here, Sister? Nurse Sims has got the ward straight—the night staff are on.’
Maggy thought a minute. ‘Nurse Sims can go now; I’ll give the report, then you can go. I’ll stay here until they can send another nurse.’
Williams said eagerly, ‘I’ll stay…’ but was interrupted by Sir Charles.
‘Will you stay here for a while, Sister? Have you a good nurse for night duty here?’
Maggy shook her head. ‘There’s a shortage of nurses, Sir Charles, it’s this gastric bug. There’s no nurse at present, but Matron will arrange for one later on, I’m sure. I’ll bide till she comes.’ She looked at Williams and saw the disappointment on her face. ‘When I come back, Staff, will you make coffee for all of us. I’m sure the doctors would like a cup.’ She was rewarded by a grateful smile as she turned to Sir Charles.
‘I’ll give the report, sir, and be back. Staff Nurse will clear up and set the room ready.’ She gave Williams the keys and slipped away, watched by the two doctors.
Paul said low-voiced, ‘When Mother goes back home to Oudehof, I want Sister MacFergus to go with her.’
Sir Charles pursed his lips and looked doubtfully at his companion, who met his gaze with a cool determined look of his own.
‘She’s a ward sister, you know.’
‘I know. Could she not have special leave for a couple of weeks or so? I’ll pay whatever fee the hospital requires. I want someone I can trust to look after Mother.’
‘Naturally. And you trust Sister MacFergus?’
‘Yes, Uncle Charles, I do.’
The older man turned away and bent over his patient. There was a faint pink in her cheeks now; her pulse was regular and much stronger. He gave Williams some instructions, and went back to Paul. ‘Very well, Paul, I’ll do my best for you. Your mother will be here for a month—you know that. I daresay something can be arranged in the meantime. But I think we will say nothing of this for the time being. Do you agree?’
Paul nodded. ‘I’d like to stay the night. I don’t need to be back in Leiden until Monday morning.’
He broke off as Maggy came back into the room. She nodded to Williams, then took off her cuffs and rolled up her sleeves.
‘Staff’s making coffee. You’ll have a cup, Sir Charles? And you, sir? It’ll be ready in my office.’
‘And you, Sister?’ It was Dr Doelsma speaking.
‘I’ll be here, sir. I’ll have mine later.’ She didn’t even look at him, but busied herself with the drip.
Williams was waiting for them, hovering over Sister’s own coffee pot, very anxious to please. There were only two chairs, so Dr Doelsma sat on the desk and drank his coffee.
‘Are you not off duty, Staff Nurse?’
Williams, the faithful Jim’s image temporarily dimmed, fluttered her eyelashes and used a dimple devastatingly.
‘Yes, sir. But the night staff haven’t time to make coffee now.’
‘And Sister?’
‘She’s off too. Oh…’she remembered…‘she’s not been to supper, and she’ll be on duty until two o’clock—there’s no one to take over before then. I must make her some sandwiches.’ She forgot all about charming the Dutch doctor in her anxiety for Sister MacFergus.
‘Sister is fortunate to have a staff nurse who takes such care of her.’ He smiled down at the pretty little creature. Something in his face made her realise suddenly that behind his rather a
rrogant good looks there was strength of character, as well as kindness and a concern for others; it became of paramount importance to her to win his good opinion.
‘No, we’re the lucky ones. I mean the nurses on this ward. You see, sir, Sister’s one of the nicest people any of us have ever met. Of course, we all call her Maggy behind her back, but that’s because we like her—’ She broke off and looked uncertainly at Sir Charles who called Sister MacFergus Maggy to her face.
‘A good Scottish name,’ he murmured, and got up. With a smile and a nod of thanks he went back to Sep where the ECG machine was ready by the bed. He said, ‘Right, Sister,’ and Maggy started fastening the straps very carefully and gently, leaving Dr Doelsma to connect up the leads, and then stood back, waiting for the doctors to make a recording. They had just finished when Williams came in, whispered to her, said a low goodnight, and went off duty. Maggy had hardly begun to disconnect the leads before Dr Doelsma was by her side.
‘I’ll do that, Sister. Go and have your coffee and sandwiches.’ She glanced at Sir Charles. ‘Yes, Maggy, go and sit down for ten minutes. I’ll be over presently before I go. Dr Doelsma will be staying the night; he’ll be on hand if you want anyone in a hurry.’
The night passed slowly. There wasn’t a great deal to do. The doctor had refused the offer of a bed in the housemen’s quarters, but had remained in the room, sitting relaxed and calm in an easy chair near the bed. He had opened the dispatch case he had brought with him, and was busily engaged writing. Maggy supposed it was another lecture.
Just after midnight Mevrouw Doelsma woke up, asked for water in a thin voice and wanted to know the time. Maggy told her, and she frowned and whispered, ‘You poor child, you must be worn out; you’ve been here all day.’
Maggy hastened to assure her that she wasn’t in the least tired, but her patient only smiled and said, ‘Stuff!’ and then. ‘But I’m glad you were here. I felt quite safe with you.’ She turned her head to look at her son, standing beside her, his fingers on her pulse. ‘I won’t do it again. Don’t go just yet, will you?’
‘I can stay until tomorrow night, dear; you’ll be feeling much better by then.’ He gave the hand a squeeze and smiled, and she closed her eyes again, saying, ‘You’re both so enormous.’
Just before two o’clock, Maggy’s relief arrived. She was a senior student and a very good nurse, and a very attractive one too. Maggy introduced the doctor, gave a report, said goodnight, and made for the door. The doctor, with the advantage of longer legs, got there first, opened it, and then filled the doorway with his bulk so that it was impossible for her to go through.
‘I’m in your debt, Sister MacFergus,’ he looked steadily into her weary face. ‘You saved my mother’s life. You have my gratitude and my thanks.’
‘And I’ll thank ye also, Doctor, for if ye hadna’ come when ye did, I ken fine it might have gone ill with your mother.’ She smiled, all six feet of her drooping with tiredness. ‘Goodnight, sir.’ She slipped past him and was gone.
Maggy was quite her usual self when she went on duty the next morning. She took the report and then went into Sep, Dr Doelsma rose from his chair and wished her a good morning. He looked immaculate, freshly shaven, and not a crease to be seen; his face was that of a man who had enjoyed an untroubled night’s rest. The patient was sleeping, and according to the night nurse, entirely satisfactory. She picked up her report ready to give it, and was about to begin when Dr Doelsma coughed gently. ‘Er—shall I go, Sister, or may I stay?’ He sounded so meek that she shot him a suspicious glance before asking him politely to do as he wished. He settled back into his chair which creaked alarmingly under his weight, and opened out The Times, only lowering it briefly to wish the night nurse a warm farewell, coupled with a solicitous wish that she would sleep soundly, and all without a glance at Maggy, who had not failed to notice with an unusual flash of temper that he and the night nurse appeared to be on excellent terms. Despite herself, she gave an angry snort,
He lowered The Times for a second time. ‘You spoke, Sister?’
‘I did not,’ she snapped, and added ‘sir.’
He folded his paper carefully, glanced at his sleeping parent and asked.
‘Must I be called sir?’
She charted the pulse carefully.
‘Of course, Dr Doelsma. You are a consultant.’
‘So, by the same token, I may call you Maggy?’
She took a deep breath and said deliberately, ‘You are in a position to call me anything you wish, sir.’ She realised her mistake as soon as she had spoken.
‘My dear girl, how kind of you.’ His voice was smooth. ‘I wonder, what shall it be?’
She blushed under his mocking eye, and said with dignity, ‘That’s not what I meant, Doctor, and you know it.’ She put down the chart and went on briskly, ‘I doubt you’ll be wanting your breakfast—I’ll arrange that.’
‘Don’t bother—er—Sister. Now that you’re here, I’ll go over and see Sir Charles and breakfast with him. I’ll be back within the hour.’
‘Very well, sir, I’ll ring you if it should be necessary.’
She ignored him, and prepared to take Mevrouw Doelsma’s blood pressure. Her patient opened her eyes at that moment, and said, ‘Hullo, it’s you again. I’m glad. A sweet girl, the night nurse, but so earnest, I felt as though I had one foot in the grave all night.’
Maggy smiled and said gently. ‘Fiddlesticks, you were dreaming—and both feet are safe here in bed.’
She turned to find Dr Doelsma still there, looming over the end of the bed.
He said, ‘Hullo, Mama. I’m going over to Uncle Charles. Be good.’ He turned at the door, with his hand on the knob.
‘You’ll ring me, won’t you, Sister?’ He sounded casual, but she could see the worry in his eyes.
She smiled at him warmly. ‘Of course.’ She looked supremely confident and capable, standing there in her trim uniform.
There was still a shortage of nurses; if Williams was to get her half day. Maggy thought, she herself would have to go off duty that morning. She decided to do so as soon as Dr Doelsma returned. Williams could look after the ward, and Sibley, the third-year nurse, could come into Sep. Sir Charles came back with Dr Doelsma, they looked well fed and relaxed. Maggy, who had had a sketchy breakfast, thought longingly of coffee… She would never get off duty by ten o’clock. It was a quarter past the hour when Sir Charles finished examining his patient. He held a short discussion with Paul and called for another ECG.
Maggy was buckling the straps when Dr Doelsma came over to do his part.
‘Are you not off duty, Sister?’ She glanced up in surprise.
‘How did you know?’
‘That pretty little staff nurse of yours told me. Shall I get her in so that you can go?’
She tightened a buckle slowly. ‘Why not?’ she asked coolly. ‘Though I’m afraid Staff won’t be able to come for long. But Nurse Sibley shall relieve her; she’s the pretty blonde with green eyes—I’m sure you will have noticed her.’
She didn’t look up to see what effect her words had had, but finished what she was doing, sent for Williams to take her place, and went to the ward. By the time she had done a round it was almost eleven. She decided to have coffee in the Sisters’ Home, but when she got there it didn’t seem worth while. Dinner would be at twelve-thirty. She flounced into the sitting room, feeling pettish and more than a little sorry for herself, and buried herself in the papers for the next hour or so. There weren’t any other Sisters off; she wished she had not bothered to go off duty at all, though that, she decided, would not have pleased Dr Doelsma, for then he would have had to have put up with her for the whole morning.
She returned on duty after lunch, her frame of mind by no means improved. The ward was fairly quiet. She sent Nurse Sibley to her dinner, and Williams to her afternoon with the faithful Jim. That left little Nurse Sims whom she sent into the ward to tidy it for visitors; she herself went into Sep until Sibley shoul
d return. Both doctors had gone to lunch; her patient was sleeping. She studied the charts and then started to pick up the papers littered around the doctor’s chair. They were closely written in a foreign language—Dutch, she supposed; in any case, they would have been unintelligible in English. She made a tidy pile, then went to open the window wider. It was a lovely late August day; she would have liked to have been home, tramping the hills with the dogs. The door opened, but she didn’t turn round at once, but said,
‘You should have taken your full hour, Nurse; I’ll not need to go until two o’clock.’
She looked over her shoulder. Dr Doelsma was standing in the doorway.
‘You’re at lunch,’ she said stupidly.
He ignored this piece of foolishness, but strolled into the room.
‘Ah. I’m glad you’re back on duty,’ he said.
She frowned. Really, she thought, after his obvious anxiety to get rid of her that morning—’ Did something go wrong?’ she asked.
‘No, no. Nurse Sibley was most competent, but I must admit that I prefer you here, Sister.’ He stared at her. ‘You needed to go off duty this morning, you were tired.’
She went pink; it was an unpleasant experience having her thoughts read so accurately. She asked, curiosity getting the better of discretion, ‘Why do you prefer me here, Doctor?’
He considered his reply. ‘I am a big man, Sister. People tend to stare at me as though I were something peculiar. You don’t stare, presumably because you are such a big woman yourself. A purely selfish reason, you see.’
This truthful but unflattering description of herself did nothing to improve Maggy’s mood, and the more so because she could think of nothing to say in reply. Nurse Sibley’s return saved her from this difficulty, however. She handed over to her, and left the room with great dignity, feeling twelve feet tall, and very conscious of the largeness of her person.
The visitors, laden with flowers and fruit and unsuitable food, began to straggle in, and Maggy was kept busy answering questions and making out certificates. Madame Riveau’s husband and son hadn’t arrived; she would have to see them that evening. She sat down at her desk and began the off-duty rota for the following week. It was an absorbing and irritating task, trying to fit in lectures, study days, and special requests for days off. She became immersed in it, then looked up to find the doctor standing by her. She stopped, pen poised.
