by Betty Neels
Tabitha hadn’t heard Marius—he was standing behind her and said readily enough: ‘Of course—I shall be delighted.’ He smiled at Tabitha, who pretended not to see. ‘That makes two invitations we have jointly accepted, does it not, Sister?’
Tabitha looked up from her task of fitting a thick sock over Jimmy’s large foot. ‘Two?’ she queried blankly, ‘jointly?’
Marius said gravely, his eyes twinkling: ‘Yes—this invitation we have just accepted for—when was it, Jimmy?—two weeks today—and Mr Prosser’s kind invitation to sample his fish and chips.’
She felt a little glow of pleasure spreading itself under her apron bib. ‘Oh, yes—I didn’t think you were serious.’
‘I was. When you are ready, Sister, I should like to do a round.’
The round proved to be a lighthearted affair. George, glad to have a load of work taken off his shoulders, was inclined to be talkative, Tommy was always cheerful anyway and Marius seemed glad to be back. Knotty and Mr Raynard, sitting propped up side by side, had been left until last and when the party reached them it seemed obvious that they were prepared to settle down to a lengthy chat with these two gentlemen. The vexed question as to how much longer both should stay had to be threshed out, and as for some reason best known to themselves, and presumably Marius, they wished to leave at the same time, it took a good deal of discussion for them all to arrive at a date some three weeks ahead. This done, the talk degenerated into a lively exchange of opinion on the joys of sailing, the vagaries of the weather as applied to that sport, and the uses of a pair of bumpkins on a small sailing boat. Tabitha, who hadn’t the least idea what these might be and in any case wanted to get on with the patients’ dinners, took a cautious step backwards in the hope that she could drift away unnoticed.
But not quite, for Marius said: ‘Yes, do go, Sister—we’re wasting your time, I’m afraid.’
Dinners were over and Tabitha, leaving Staff in charge, went to her own meal. The men had gone at last, still talking, nodding polite, rather vague thank-yous as they went. She had the impression that they hadn’t really seen her; whatever it was they had been talking about must have been of the most absorbing interest. Tabitha thought this over while she ate her cold beef and salad in an absentminded manner.
‘Sickening for something?’ Sue wanted to know. ‘You look peaky.’
It was Mary, the women’s medical ward sister, who asked: ‘Has that handsome Mr van Beek been running you off your feet? Not,’ she added, ‘that I would mind him running me off mine. I only see him in the distance—he looks fab.’
‘He is,’ put in Sue. ‘Every theatre sister’s dream come true, and nice with it—not exactly a lady’s man, though—none of that “Come hither, girl,” stuff. What do you say, Tabby?’
Tabitha agreed with her friend, thinking privately that it would be nice if she could have disagreed. She smiled at Sue as she spoke; she had a great many friends in hospital not one of whom had ever referred, even obliquely, to her plain face. Even now, Sue had managed to imply that she had as good a chance of having a pass made at her as the prettiest girl there. Tabitha suddenly felt almost pretty; it was surprising what a few kind words could do to a girl’s morale. She went back to the ward feeling positively thrilled.
The ward was fairly quiet; Tabitha caught up on her books and then spent an hour showing the newest student just how traction worked and why, and then because she was off at five she decided to have a cup of tea in the office and not go down to the dining room; she could be planning the next two weeks’ off duty while she drank it. She made her way up the ward and paused by Mr Raynard and Mr Bow, sitting with their heads bent over a map.
‘Planning to run away?’ she wanted to know.
Mr Raynard gave her a considered glance. ‘You might call it that,’ he agreed, ‘eh, Knotty?’
Mr Bow coughed. ‘Yes, I suppose one might put it like that. Tell me, Sister, how is my dear Podger doing? It is so kind of you to have him, I fear he may outstay his welcome.’
‘Not he,’ said Tabitha cheerfully. ‘He’s quite happy—or as happy as he can be without you. Meg loves him.’
‘Meg? Ah, yes, your companion and housekeeper. I am indebted to you both.’
‘He’s no trouble, Mr Bow. We’re glad to have him until you’re able to have him again.’
Mr Bow and Mr Raynard exchanged glances. Tabitha thought they looked like small boys bottling up a secret. ‘That, I hope, will not be too far distant, Sister,’ said Mr Bow. His rich sonorous voice sounded gleeful.
Tabitha prepared to move on. ‘I know,’ she replied, ‘three weeks at the earliest.’ She walked away and then came back to stand by Mr Bow once more. ‘I don’t know what your plans are, Mr Bow, but if you want any help I’ll be glad to do what I can, and if it’s beyond me, I’ll get the social worker to come and see you.’
Mr Bow smiled gently. ‘You are a kind and thoughtful young woman,’ he pronounced, ‘but I believe my future is already in good hands.’
Tabitha nodded and went on her way quickly, otherwise it might look as though she was curious—which she was. Marius had fixed things for his old friend, she supposed. Doubtless she would know nothing more until she was asked to return Podger. Perhaps Mr Bow was going to stay permanently with Marius, but this wasn’t a very fruitful line of thought because she hadn’t the least idea where he was living. He seemed to spend his weekends with the Johnsons, but he surely didn’t go to and fro each day, and he didn’t live in the hospital or she would have heard about it through the grapevine. She pulled the off duty book towards her and looked unseeingly at its neatly ruled pages, ready for her to fill in. She was aware that she was wasting too much time thinking about Marius; it simply would not do. No effort on her part to attract him would stand a chance against Lilith’s pale beauty; besides, she didn’t know how to set about it.
She sighed loudly and was glad to be interrupted by Mrs Jeffs coming in with the tea tray. There were two cups on it and Tabitha asked idly:
‘Hullo, who’s having tea with me?’
‘Mr van Beek, Sister. He popped his head round the kitchen door and asked if there was a cup to spare. Men need their tea,’ she added comfortably. ‘I did a little bit of buttered toast for you both.’ She beamed at Tabitha and turned round as there was a knock on the half-open door and Marius walked in. ‘That’s right, sir, you come in and keep Sister company—there’s nothing like a nice cuppa and a chat.’ She gave them each a motherly smile and squeezed her plump person past Marius. ‘Too fat, aren’t I?’ she remarked cheerfully, ‘but my hubby says he can’t miss a pound of me.’
She chuckled richly as she shut the door.
Tabitha had had plenty of time to acquire calm. She said now in the tones of a polite hostess: ‘Do sit down, Mrs Jeffs makes a lovely pot of tea and there’s toast too.’
Marius settled himself in the only other chair in the little room.
‘Mrs Jeffs treats me with all the cosy warmth of an affectionate aunt,’ he observed.
‘You don’t mind, I hope? You see, she’s not had any training, only what we’ve been able to give her, so she’s not very well up on hospital etiquette. She has a husband and sons and several grandchildren and I expect she forgets you’re a senior member of the staff. She doesn’t mean…’
He crossed one leg over the other, taking up most of the available space in doing so. ‘Why should I mind? Mrs Jeffs is a treasure and it’s delightful when someone forgets who I am—there are those who don’t.’
He looked at her with a little mocking smile and she went bright red. The mockery went, leaving only kindness. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Tabby. You must find it difficult remembering to call me sir in hospital and then treating me just like anyone else outside it.’
Tabitha handed him the toast. ‘Well, yes, I suppose so. Are you glad to be back?’
‘Yes. Lecturing is all very well when you can do it in one place all the time. I keep forgetting where I am.’
; She laughed. ‘Do you talk in English?’
‘Sometimes—sometimes German or Dutch, according to where I am. Why do you look so pale?’ He bent an intense gaze upon her. ‘Aren’t you well?’
Tabitha choked on her tea. ‘Yes, thank you. I—I didn’t know I looked any different from usual. You’ve a long list for tomorrow.’
He studied her carefully before he replied. ‘All right, don’t tell me if you don’t want to,’ he remarked mildly. ‘Yes, it is a big list, the first case will take quite a time, but that’s the only one presenting any difficulties. George and I should polish off the rest quickly enough. You’ll be on all day?’
She nodded. ‘Until the evening.’
They drank their tea in silence after that while Tabitha sought vainly for some topic of conversation. It was a pity that she could think of nothing at all to say; she wasn’t in the least surprised when he got to his feet and said: ‘Well, thanks for the tea and the peace,’ and was gone before she could so much as say goodbye.
The week passed and the weather, warm and bright, showed up the ward’s old-fashioned drawbacks so that everybody, staff and patients alike, was inclined to be a little irritable. Marius came and went, good-natured as always, seemingly unaware of the tiresomely old-fashioned surroundings. But then he was free to go at the end of the day’s work in the operating theatre; it was the nurses who had to stay, working in the out-of-date sluices, walking with tired feet up and down the bare wooden floors. There would be, in some distant future, a splendid new hospital, equipped with every modern aid to nursing which could be devised. Tabitha, writing up the Kardex in her stuffy office, wondered how many years it would be before it was built and if she would still be at St Martin’s then.
She laid down her pen at length and went to do her last round. Jimmy had gone, of course; she would be going to his wedding soon. The man in his bed was middle-aged and a little aggressive and she missed Jimmy’s cheerful face; it would be nice to see him married, though. She had bought a new hat for the occasion, a large floppy one with a wavy brim which she considered suited her very well because it hid her face. It was a pretty shade of pink and would help to liven up the rather plain oyster colour silk dress she intended to wear. She had arranged a day off for the wedding so that she would have plenty of time to drive to Bradninch where Jimmy lived, and for a little while at least she had wondered if Marius would suggest that they should go together, but he had said nothing; possibly he had forgotten all about it, for village weddings, she deduced shrewdly, were by no means the only social occasions in the lives of such men as Marius.
She went slowly down one side of the ward and just as slowly up the other, giving her attention to each patient in turn until she came to Mr Bow, who was sitting up in bed making knots with a short length of rope.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Tabitha. ‘Did the physio people give you that to do?’
‘I’m practicing seamen’s knots, Sister, and Marius brought me the rope. A good idea, don’t you think?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so if you like such things,’ said Tabitha. ‘At least it keeps your fingers supple.’
Mr Bow executed something complicated with admirable dexterity. ‘Indeed, yes.’ He gave her a brief glance from his blue eyes. ‘I am very comfortable, thank you, Sister.’
Tabitha felt herself dismissed, so she said good night and moved on to Mr Raynard’s cubicle. He was deep in a book, but he put a finger carefully in its pages to mark where he had got to and said: ‘Hullo, Tabby Nightingale, still dragging your weary feet from bed to bed?’
‘Well, really,’ she responded indignantly, ‘you make it sound as though I’ve got varicose veins or bunions! You and Mr Bow are very quiet this evening—aren’t you speaking?’
‘Good lord, girl, what queer notions you do get into your head. Of course we’re speaking, but at the moment we are occupied. How is he getting on with his knots?’
Tabitha looked a little bewildered. ‘Very nicely, I imagine. Why is he doing them?’
Mr Raynard darted a quick look at her curious face. ‘You’ll know—any minute now.’ He held his book up for her to see. It was a treatise on coastal navigation and made no sense to her at all.
‘Are you both taking a course on sailing?’ she hazarded at length.
‘You could call it that—and then again, you couldn’t,’ said her chief obscurely. ‘My wife’s late, she promised she would be here.’
Tabitha began to walk away from his bed. ‘Mrs Raynard’s coming through the door now,’ she said. ‘Good night, sir.’
She paused for a word with Mrs Raynard and went on her way towards the ward door. Another fifteen minutes and the night staff would be on; already the two student nurses were doing a last round of the ward, filling water jugs and collecting papers which their readers had refused to hand over earlier in the evening; there was no one very ill. Tabitha decided to go to the office—it was hot there, but it would be nice to have a few minutes to herself. She was at the door when it was swung open from the other side and Marius came in; when she would have passed him with a civil good evening he caught her arm with a ‘No—we want you by Mr Raynard’s bed for a few minutes.’
He spoke without urgency, but there was no escaping the gentle grip on her elbow. She would have liked to have asked why as they went back down the ward, but there was no time, only, as they approached Mr Raynard’s bed, she was able to observe that neither he nor his wife looked in the least surprised at her return.
‘Of course,’ grunted Mr Raynard, ‘I don’t like the idea of doing this in public as it were, but Marius has the idea that his suggestion needs our combined support.’ He fixed Tabitha with a gimlet eye. ‘You’ll not be able to disobey me, my girl.’
Tabitha’s bewilderment grew, mixed with a vague annoyance as she watched Marius scoop Mr Bow out of his bed and into the wheelchair by it, and trundle him briskly into Mr Raynard’s cubicle. She said tartly: ‘I shouldn’t count on that, sir,’ and he roared with laughter before saying:
‘Go on, Marius, before Tabby gets cross.’
Marius was facing her across the bed. He said in his usual placid voice: ‘It’s not fair to tease you, Tabitha. We—that is, all of us here—want you to accompany us on holiday. Mr Bow and Mr Raynard will still be partial invalids even in a couple of weeks’ time, but they have a crazy idea that a week or two’s sailing is just what they need. They’ll neither of them be much use in a boat, but Mrs Raynard crews and you have done some sailing, haven’t you? It seems to all of us ideal if you would help us out by coming along as well, to keep an eye on them both and be company for Mrs Raynard. There’s plenty of room in my house for all of us and the boat will take us easily enough, though heaven alone knows where we shall stow two plastered legs.’ He paused and then said with a smile: ‘The whole thing’s a little mad, isn’t it, but if anything goes wrong they’ll at least be in good hands. There’s just one other thing—do you suppose Meg would mind looking after Podger for a few more weeks? I promise you it won’t be much longer than that. I’ve another lecture tour in about two months’ time, after that Mr Bow will be permanently settled and Podger can rejoin him.’
The silence almost shouted at her when he finished speaking. Not only were those around the bed waiting on her answer, she was aware too that those nearest them in the ward were straining their ears, and that the two student nurses had been tidying the same bed on the opposite side of the ward since Marius had begun to speak; all the same, she had to stop and think. She recognized the fact that it was a matter of convenience that Marius should have asked her to go with them. Both gentlemen would need help to a limited extent and some restraining influence; not by the wildest stretch of the imagination could she suppose that Marius’s invitation had been offered for any other reason. She asked at length:
‘How long should we be gone?’ and saw the sudden gleam in Marius’s eyes. ‘If I should go,’ she added hastily, and he laughed.
‘Three weeks at the outsid
e.’
It sounded wonderful, but there were still several things she had thought of. ‘I’m not booked for a holiday until September—and who will do your work, Mr Raynard?’
The Old Man’s face assumed a cunning expression. ‘Ah, this is where we have used our undoubtedly intelligent brains. Provided—I say provided, Tabby, you agree to come—we have persuaded the powers that be, to allow the ward to be emptied so that it may be brought up to date and redecorated—heaven knows it’s long overdue. It will take about ten days, that leaves George a few days to get the patients transferred; the rest he can cope with in the surgical annexe and then fill this place up again ready for Marius when we come back.’
‘And when are you going to start work, Mr Raynard?’ Tabitha wanted to know. ‘You won’t be able to manage the theatre…’ Mr Raynard showed his splendid teeth. ‘Quiet, girl! I shall do very well. George will be here to do most of the work when Marius goes. I’ve got it all thought out, so don’t distract my thoughts.’
So Marius wouldn’t be coming back; at least, only for a very short time. Then presumably he would go to Chidlake, to Lilith. One of Meg’s endless fund of quotations came into her head, quite unbidden. ‘A bird in the hand…’ Marius was hardly a bird, but it seemed to Tabitha that for once there was some point in the saying. She looked around at their faces; Mr Bow, bearing the satisfied look of a Father Christmas who had successfully weathered yet another Christmas Eve; Mr Raynard looking like a thundercloud—which meant nothing at all; his wife, who caught Tabby’s eye and smiled as though she meant it, and Marius, seemingly placid and unworried as to what she would say. But the look he gave her, although it was both these things, also contained the certainty that she wouldn’t disappoint either Mr Raynard or Knotty. She said, looking at him: ‘I should like to come very much.’
Later, sitting in the flat, talking it over with Meg, she wondered if she had been wise to accept. After all, there were other nurses—she said so out loud to Meg, who pointed out in a practical voice that there wouldn’t be much sense in taking a stranger with them—someone they wouldn’t know and probably wouldn’t like either. Meg knew all about Mr Raynard’s peculiar temperament and she knew about Mr Bow too.
