To Please the Doctor

by Marjorie Moore

  “Yes, I suppose I am.” Jill forced a smile and, pulling herself together, concentrated on the monotonous job of counting out sweets and consigning each little pile to a paper bag, tied at the neck with coloured string.

  “Aren’t the carols beautiful?” Brenda went on, pausing to listen. “I’m glad we can hear them here ... That high solo was Sister Dovekin. She’s got a lovely voice, hasn’t she?”

  “Yes...” Jill broke off knotting another packet and setting it aside on the completed pile. “It’s very good.”

  “Sister ... please may I call you Jill now we are off duty?”

  “Of course.” Jill tried to sound friendly, but her voice held a note of apathy. “Do by all means.”

  “I can’t help worrying about you ... I mean these last two days you ... well, you seem so despondent ... so ... depressed.” She faltered, obviously finding it difficult to put her feelings into words, but the look she gave Jill was one of deep and genuine concern.

  Jill felt strangely moved. It was odd how this girl, once so antagonistic, had now changed. She was leaving St. Joseph’s so soon she would probably never avail herself of this offered friendship, but she felt it lay there, probably all the more sincere for the vicissitudes through which it had passed. “Don’t worry about me,” Jill smiled. “I’m all right, just a bit under the weather.”

  “Let’s leave these things.” Brenda threw down the last package she had handled, with a hint of impatience. “I don’t see why Night Staff shouldn’t do a bit of work too. Come on, let’s knock off, leave the rest on the desk as a hint, someone is bound to finish them.”

  “I believe you’re right.” Jill rose and, taking her cloak, flung it round her shoulders. “I’m tired, too. We didn’t even stop for tea. I shall go to my room now and make a cup and have it in peace. I don’t think I can stand any more Christmas spirit to-night.”

  “How right you are!” Brenda laughed as, with a word to one of the junior night staff, she followed Jill from the building. “I suppose I couldn’t come along and share your tea ... I ... I don’t feel much like the Nurses’ dining hall,” she suggested a trifle diffidently.

  Although the suggestion was not an entirely pleasing one, Jill hadn’t the heart to refuse. Once in the privacy of Jill’s room it was obvious that Brenda had no intention of being a mere guest, and patting up the cushions in the one armchair, she insisted that Jill get out of her uniform and into a dressing gown, while she went off to boil a kettle on the gas ring at the end of the passage.

  “Now, please relax, put your feet up and have a nice rest ... You leave it all to me, I’ll find everything ... borrow and steal if necessary, but we are both going to have a well-earned meal.” She laughed as, disregarding Jill’s protests, she hurried from the room.

  Brenda was certainly true to her word and when, a few minutes later, she returned to Jill’s room with a piled tray, Jill stared at her in wide-eyed amazement. “Where on earth did you find all that?”

  “Well...” Brenda began complacently as she set the tray on the edge of the dressing table and pulled forward a chair. “I made the tea on the ring at the end of the passage, then I went along to Men’s Surgical. I knew Sister was throwing a party—I got the sandwiches and cakes from there—the salad came from the Diet Kitchen. I just took that when no one was looking.”

  “I must say it looks appetizing. I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” Jill admitted as she sampled one of the delicious looking sandwiches which Brenda offered her.

  While the two girls ate their late tea they spoke of general matters, of the entertainment arranged for the children on the following day, of the service which would be held in the ward, of all the pleasant surprises awaiting the patients. They were sitting hack enjoying their cigarettes when Brenda, glancing round the room, enhanced now with a few of Jill’s personal belongings, remarked. “You are lucky to be a Sister. Our rooms aren’t nearly as large as this, and we aren’t allowed to have meals in them even if we want to.”

  “It isn’t exactly encouraged in the Sisters’ Home!” Jill smiled. “Anyway, it can’t be long now before you get promotion. Perhaps the Sister who takes my place won’t settle down here, then I’m sure you’ll get your chance, but...” she added with emphasis, “don’t you start trying to expedite her departure, you’ll never get anywhere that way.”

  “Don’t I know it!” Brenda had the grace to blush. “I was a pig. I can’t think how I could have behaved so badly. You’ve been so marvellous about everything. I know I don’t deserve it.”

  “Let’s forget it,” Jill implored, with no wish to reopen that painful episode.

  “Do you trust me now ... I mean have you really forgiven me?” Brenda persisted uneasily.

  “I’ve told you I do, so don’t let’s ever speak of it again.”

  “If you can think of me as a real friend then I want you to tell me something,” Brenda began, determined to strike while the iron was hot. “What is the matter with you? Something is upsetting you badly. Can’t you possibly confide in me; it does help so much so share troubles.”

  “That’s sweet of you.” Jill was touched by the other girl’s obvious concern. Whatever she had done in the past there was no doubt she was only too anxious to make amends. “I don’t think you could be of any help ... no one could.” Jill rose abruptly to her feet and, crossing the room, stubbed out her cigarette firmly in the ash-tray, then turned again to face her companion. “I have been an utter fool, and I’ve got to learn to accept facts as they are.”

  “Is it because you have to leave ... I ... I mean is it that which is upsetting you?” Brenda enquired anxiously.

  “No, definitely not. Thank heavens I am leaving! You don’t realize what a good turn you did me when you fixed that,” Jill affirmed with a laugh which held a note of bitterness.

  “Oh, Jill, do come and sit down and tell me properly,” Brenda implored as, leaning forward, she took Jill’s arm and propelled her back to the armchair. “Go on, tell me what’s the trouble,” she urged, watching her companion as she settled back in her chair, but as she made no effort to speak, Brenda went on, “Is it something to do with Dr. McRey?”

  Jill sat forward, her hands gripping the arms of the chair. “What ... what on earth do you mean? ... Why did you ask me that ... who has been talking about me?”

  “No one ... nothing,” Brenda hastened to reassure her. “I didn’t mean to upset you ... I ... Oh, well, I just thought it might be something to do with him, that’s all,” she ended breathlessly.

  With an effort Jill regained her composure. She felt a sudden desire to confide in someone. She hadn’t been at St. Joseph’s long enough to make any intimate friend, and although she liked, and was liked in return by, most of her fellow nurses, she had felt no wish to foster any particular friendship. Of course there was Harriet ... her oldest friend, but of no help to her now ... She found herself surreptitiously searching her companion’s expression, and she knew then that despite all that had gone before, she could count on Brenda Malling’s understanding. The, urge to share her problems was no longer to be denied, and almost to her own surprise Jill found herself speaking.

  “I’ve no idea how you guessed ... why you should mention Dr. McRey. I knew he would be difficult to work for Harriet warned me, but I don’t think I realized how difficult until later ... Unfortunately, I made a bad impression at the very start, and that made things worse, but I was determined to win his respect somehow ... I suppose it was a form of conceit, but I was quite sure that I could...”

  “But you have!” Brenda broke in eagerly. “It’s amazing how he’s changed towards you; it’s the way you stood up to him, it took the wind out of his sails. There’s no doubt that he thinks well of you now.”

  “Yes, I suppose I did win through…” Jill sighed. “If only I’d been satisfied and stopped at that. I think my success must have gone to my head, and instead of leaving things as they were ... I ... I thought we could be friends ... It might have worked, b
ut I’ve hurt myself in the process. You see, I’ve grown to care for him—too much.”

  “Oh, Jill, I’m sorry,” Brenda murmured sympathetically. “I don’t think you ought to be so miserable about it all the same, perhaps he does feel that way about you, too. You know he isn’t the type to rush his fences, I expect, he is shy where girls are concerned, grumbling at them comes much more readily to him,” she concluded in an effort to introduce a note of levity into the tense atmosphere.

  “I was fool enough, to think that, too, but I’ve come to my senses now. I believe that he cares for Harriet Laine, probably has done for a long time, but I was too blind to see it.”

  If Jill had hoped that Brenda would refute such a suggestion, she was disappointed. “I suppose that is possible...” she said dubiously. “I was here when Dr. Laine was appointed. There was awful trouble, at first. Dr. McRey was furious at the idea of a woman assistant ... She stood up to him, too, and they’ve been firm friends ever since.”

  “I believe it goes deeper than that now...” Jill began, then broke off abruptly. “What’s the use of speculating. I shall have to get over my folly, and the sooner the better!” she ended on a note of defiance.

  “That’s the stuff!” Brenda forced a laugh. “It’s the season of good cheer, you mustn’t be despondent ... Anyway, I hate to see you miserable.”

  “You’ve been so understanding, and I feel better since I’ve confided in you, but now please forget all about it.” It was perhaps fortunate that a tap on the door interrupted their discussion. Following the tap the Home Sister put her head-round and addressed Jill: “Phone call for you, Fernley. I’ve left the receiver off down in the hall.”

  As she withdrew her head, Jill jumped to her feet. “I can’t go down like this ... Brenda, be a dear and take the message for me. I imagine it’s Nana. I promised to go over with some oddments I have for Terry’s stocking ... I expect she’s wondering what’s happened. Tell her I got off late, but I’ll be over in half an hour or so.”

  By the time Brenda returned, her errand completed, Jill had slipped out of her dressing gown and had already donned a wool frock which she was fastening at the waist. Before Brenda had time to speak, Jill broke in: “Was she in a flap? Nana always gets worked up if I’m not punctual. Anyway, I intended to go over as late as I could, because I know that Dr. McRey has invited one or two of the staff for drinks before going on to dine at Dr. Laine’s, and I didn’t want to butt in. I hoped they would all have gone by the time I arrived.”

  “It wasn’t Nana,” Brenda announced briefly as she seated herself on the edge of the bed, and waited for Jill to absorb the gist of her remark. Suddenly aware of its import, Jill, abandoning the fastening of her dress, looked up in astonishment.

  “Not Nana? Then who was it?”

  “Dr. Laine. ... I offered to call you down, but she said I wasn’t to bother, that she’d give me a message,” Brenda replied.

  “Harriet? ... What did she want?” Jill asked with some surprise.

  “She was ringing from Dr. McRey’s house. You are right. He is giving a sherry party to some of the Medical Staff...” Brenda hesitated, obviously at a loss to frame Harriet’s message. “She wants you to go over and join them ... She says it is going to be rather a special party ... it’s to celebrate her engagement, and as an old friend she wants you to join them and drink her health.”

  There was a moment of hushed silence. Jill’s knees felt suddenly weak and she sank down gratefully on to the edge of the armchair. “I ... I don’t understand ... I ... I ...” She broke off at a loss for words, then as the full meaning of the message burst,, upon her, her eyes held an expression of mute appeal. “What shall I do ...? Whatever shall I do?”

  Even Brenda appeared temporarily at a loss, then, although deeply conscious of her companion’s distress, she imbued her voice with a levity she was far from feeling. “Why, you must go, you can’t very well refuse.”

  “Go?” Jill gave an involuntary shiver as she echoed the word in a tone of disbelief. “After what I’ve told you ... you couldn’t expect me to go. I couldn’t bear it!” For a moment she buried her face in her hands, then quickly regaining her control, looked up, an expression of firm determination in her violet eyes. “I’m not going ... ring back and say you just missed me, I’d gone out ... It won’t be a lie, because I will go out. I’ll go now, and you needn’t ring until after I’ve left.” Jill rose and finished fastening her dress, then searched feverishly in her cupboard for a coat.

  “Hold on a moment!” Brenda laid a detaining hand on Jill’s arm. “It’s no use running away from things ... Please sit down for a moment and face the problem properly,” she begged.

  “There isn’t anything to face.” Jill swung round. “I don’t want to hear Harriet announce her engagement to Dr. McRey ... I’m glad for Harriet. Don’t misunderstand me; she is my friend and I want her happiness. The danger is that I might not act my part. Given time I’ll face up to things all right, but to see them ... to have to congratulate them to-night, that’s out of the question.” She thrust her arms into the sleeves of her coat and buckled it at the waist, then opened her drawer for scarf and gloves. Clutching them in her hand she approached the door. “Don’t forget to phone, and don’t bother about me. I’ll be as right as rain by the morning.”

  “Jill ... just a moment,” Brenda implored. “I’ll phone, of course, but why must you go out? There is a mist blowing up, it’s a horrible night. Why not go to bed?”

  “You’ve forgotten, I promised to help Nana. As soon as I think the party has broken up, I must go along to her ... Meanwhile I’m going for a walk.” Before there was time for further protest the door had closed behind Jill, leaving Brenda, alone staring round the untidy room, littered not only with the remnants of their picnic tea, but with Jill’s discarded clothes which she had left scattered on the bed and across the back of the armchair. A lack of order so unlike Jill’s careful habits that it revealed all too clearly the profound depths of her distress.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jill had not been out long before she began to appreciate the wisdom of Brenda’s warning. This was certainly no weather for walking. Although now there was not the remotest chance of a white Christmas, the weather had turned colder. There was no appreciable wind, but a mist blowing inland from the sea filled the air with moisture. Still, Jill decided, anything was better than remaining indoors, and undeterred by the elements she strode towards the sea front. No doubt owing to the fact that it was Christmas Eve the promenade was more deserted than usual, and if Jill had sought solitude then she had assuredly found it! It was so dark that she could scarcely distinguish familiar landmarks, and at moments small patches of white sea-mist swirled before her, temporarily cutting out all visibility. It recalled to her mind the day of her arrival, but that had been a real, enveloping fog, and she hadn’t had the remotest idea of where she was or where she was going ... She caught her breath as she pressed forward; she certainly had not known where she had been going, where the journey would lead heir, yet she felt that during her brief sojourn at Sunsand Bay she had lived through a whole gaunt of emotions, and whatever the future held for her she would, for the rest of her life, bear their scar.

  She paused for a moment and, leaning her arms on the rail protecting the promenade, stared out towards the sea; the horizon was completely lost in mist and, from where she stood, she could see eddies like white thistledown, blowing inland, across the beach. Since she had rushed from Brenda’s presence she had deliberately made her mind a blank, but thought was no longer to be denied and memory came flooding back, plunging her into the throes of depression. It didn’t seem much use to remind herself that Harriet’s engagement hadn’t really come as a surprise. She admitted that it had been in her mind ever since her mother had suggested the possibility; it was also true that even if one anticipated distress, it never really hurt until it actually came. Perhaps an element of hope always persisted regardless of odds, and now Jill knew with
out doubt that all hope and all those cherished dreams had crumbled as dust. To have allowed herself to fall in love with no encouragement whatever was bad enough, but to have persuaded herself that her feelings were returned was the most humiliating part of all. She dropped her hands from the rail and walked on briskly, the strenuous exercise afforded some relief to her feelings, and already she felt more composed. Unconsciously she lifted her head and squared her shoulders. Thank goodness she still had pride, and she was determined she’d get this foolishness out of her mind once and for all, and even if it meant walking all night she’d face Harriet and Duncan McRey in the morning with a smile on her lips and a genuine desire for their happiness.

  At the end of the jetty she turned towards the seat. It was heavy with moisture and felt clammy to her touch, but disregarding such trivialities, she sank down, grateful for the rest. As on her last visit, the tide was low, and a quiet, serene calm enveloped her, a calm which gradually permeated her whole being, and she knew herself to be more at peace than she would have believed possible. If ever she looked back on her stay at Sunsand, she knew she would inevitably recall the jetty; on that first visit, when the storm had beat round her, she had known her first real intimacy with Duncan McRey, had recognized the gentleness which lay beneath his harsh exterior, and she was sure it had been then that, as if borne on the wind, love had first touched her. She had returned to the same spot several times alone, and somehow it had always afforded her a pleasurable sense of isolation and comfort. Then, once again, he had joined her there, and for a fleeting moment she had felt his arms lift her as if from earth to heaven ... To-night it had brought her resignation and a calm assurance which would carry her through the difficulties immediately ahead. All the pain and jealousy which had stabbed at her heart had miraculously gone, and she knew without a vestige of doubt that she would find the necessary courage to face the future.