I could hardly believe my ears. I knew she was an admirable nurse, if a very difficult person with whom to work. I had never guessed she possessed such strength of character or such an absolute sense of duty. For a wild moment, I wondered if she suspected Jo. ‘Thank you very much,’ I said.
‘I don’t expect to be thanked for doing what I know to be right,’ she replied coldly.
She had always scared me when she used that tone; but now I knew ‒ I respected her too much ever to be really frightened of her again. ‘Excuse me, Nurse, but I must thank you. I know I wasn’t to blame for those needles but I never expected anyone to be as understanding as you’ve been. I am grateful.’
‘I see. Thank you.’ She looked at me thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps I should tell you something which you may find hard to credit. Time was when I was a second-year junior on nights.’ She smiled at me for the first time in our acquaintance. ‘Strange though it may sound, I know how you feel. Now, for goodness’ sake get on, Blakney, and stop this chattering! We’ve got work to do.’
The inevitable suspicions I had about those needles had made me put off telling Jo about Fiona coming to my home. I decided I had better tell her now. If I left it until Fiona was discharged, Jo might well guess what had kept me quiet. I did not want her to do that. I had at last been forced to accept her habit of using the most casual bits of knowledge as weapons to suit her purpose. I did not want an open breach; I simply wanted to have nothing more to do with her. But as this thing had to be told, I went along to her room when she was dressing to go away.
Her immediate reaction made me relieved and ashamed. ‘Maggie, what a superb idea!’
‘I thought so, too.’
She smiled. ‘My dear, it’s too convenient. Is our dear friend Standing very pleased with you? She should be.’
‘Standing? Why?’
‘For getting this wretched niece so neatly out of the way.’
I stopped feeling ashamed. ‘Fiona’s not a wretched niece, Jo! She’s a dear.’
‘I’m sure she’s an angel-child.’ Jo brushed up her lashes carefully. ‘But that doesn’t stop her being the most awful bore. The poor man is simply weighed down with ties. Work on-duty; dear little niece off-duty! He has no chance to live his own life.’ She waved her mascara brush at me. ‘He as good as told me so when I met him outside the dining-room after our midnight meal.’
She seemed to meet him so frequently around the hospital that I could only imagine that he was haunting her much as George was haunting Avis, but with much more success. Avis had not shifted one inch in her attitude towards George, who looked more like a thundercloud every time I saw him.
‘Dr. Cameron is devoted to Fiona,’ I said. ‘He is always visiting her and she adores him. I’m sure he doesn’t consider her a bore.’
‘Maggie darling, there are times when I wish you weren’t quite so dense and naive. Of course, he didn’t actually mention her name ‒ he’s probably quite fond of her ‒ but he can’t like being tied. We were discussing the Foundation Ball, and he said he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to get to it for various reasons,’ she added airily. ‘He was able to get to the Hockey Ball and Fiona was in Switzerland then. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.’ She closed her mascara box with a snap. ‘So I can’t help feeling it’s a very good thing you are packing her off to your family. It would be rather fun to go to the Foundation Ball with him.’
‘You think he’ll ask you?’ I queried evenly. I was determined not to show how aghast I was to hear she was on these terms with him.
She turned and smiled. ‘Mr. Livingstone did.’
‘That’s true. But Jo, what about Standing? And your Bill?’
She shrugged. ‘If Standing can’t keep his interest, that’s her look-out. As for Bill, well, he’s been such a bore lately, that I’ve had to remind him we are not yet engaged. We’ve had the most stupendous row! He’ll get over it. He always does. It’s rather tedious not having his car to take me to the station this morning. It could be worse. Mike Oxford is giving me a lift on his scooter.’
‘Mike?’ Very obviously she had noticed his new friendship with Avis. ‘Why Mike?’ I asked carefully.
‘Don’t ask me, dear. I met him this morning and he just insisted. You know what these men are. Bill will be furious!’ She laughed softly and glanced out of her window. ‘There he is, already. My, but he’s impatient! I had better go.’ She took a final look at her very attractive face and picked up a tiny suitcase. ‘Cheers, Maggie. Oh, be an angel and tidy up in here for me. Home Sister will fuss if I leave this chaos. She’ll think I’m catching your bad habits.’
I did as she asked. Having hung up her cloak and pushed her dress and apron into her laundry basket, I drifted to the window. Mike Oxford was sitting on his scooter by our front door. He did not look at all impatient to me. He was laughing at some joke with Avis. Jo appeared on the top step and even from above Mike seemed to me to be clearly reluctant to break off his conversation. He helped Jo on to his scooter, waved to Avis and they chugged off into the traffic, leaving Avis standing on the pavement. Jo looked back and waved gaily. Avis raised one hand, then turned and walked slowly up the steps of the Home. I saw her expression; she did not look hurt, merely puzzled.
I returned to my own room, feeling cross. I could not understand how any girl with Jo’s looks could so patently begrudge any other girl being popular with the boys. Yet Jo did. She had somehow succeeded in upsetting the new and very delicate relationship between Avis and George; it seemed she was now determined to remove Mike Oxford from Avis’s small circle of male friends. She had never shown the slightest interest in him before, and often deplored his scooter, insisting that any man who took her out must provide her with a car. I wished I did not feel so sure she would be able to succeed in detaching Mike; I knew her too well to have any comforting doubts. And if all she had said about Dr. Cameron this morning was true, it seemed she was having her usual success with him, too.
But I could never believe that Dr. Cameron would ever wish to pack Fiona out of the way. I considered his face in memory. It was not difficult to do that; it was so often in my mind that I knew every line by heart. It was a strong face; it could be stern, but never unkind. He would never hurt anyone willingly.
I made myself think over all Jo had ever said about him. I had never seen them together, but I was certain she was sure of him in her own mind, or she would not have dropped Bill. She never shed one escort without having a substitute ready and waiting. I thought back over her previous young men, and only then noticed that they had all been students, and, inevitably, very young and impressionable. Perhaps she was as much out of her depth in her dealings with Dr. Cameron as George was with Avis, now he found himself seriously in love. But as Jo had none of George’s humility, this might not have occurred to her.
And Jo had contemptuously dismissed any competition from Nurse Standing. If she knew her as well as I now did, she would not have made that great mistake. Standing was a remarkable person with unsuspected depths and what seemed to me overwhelming powers of persuasion when she put her mind to something. I had not forgotten what Sister Wing had said the morning she read the report on those needles. ‘Nurse Standing tells me she does not in any way consider you are to blame, Nurse Blakney. I have every confidence in Nurse Standing’s judgement. We will say no more.’
The S.M.O. had naturally not mentioned the needles to me, although he must have seen the report, since the request went in his name. But I had noticed that he seemed to go out of his way to be particularly pleasant to Standing during the last few nights, and once or twice I had seen them exchange the kind of smile old friends smile when they share a happy secret.
Chapter Six
The Wing seemed to be a new department when I came on duty. It had been moderately busy; suddenly, it seemed to explode, as hospital wards do from time to time. It became and remained breathlessly hectic. That first night of the rush we admitted three emergency cases before mid
night; they were all operated on before morning. The next few nights were even worse.
Standing’s temper improved as the pressure of work increased. The more there was to do, the nicer she became. Soon she was calling me constantly by my surname, she smiled frequently, and on several occasions allowed me other glimpses of her dry sense of humour.
Fiona was now getting up in the daytime. One night, when Standing was off-duty, she limped into the kitchen. ‘Nurse Illingworth said I could come and help. What can I do?’
‘Do you really feel strong enough to help? Could you dry for me?’
‘I’ll wash and dry. Then you can get on with something else.’
‘Bless you, thanks.’ I dried my hands and set the breakfast trays as she washed up carefully. ‘This is fine, having a spare pair of hands!’
‘I’ve got news for you. I’m being discharged on Tuesday,’ she announced.
‘Are you, now? The day after tomorrow. I am going to miss you, although I’m so pleased Mr. Old thinks you’re fit enough to go,’ I said, wondering if she remembered the suggestion she had once made about my driving down with her. Tuesday was the first of my next two nights off.
She had remembered. ‘I’ve been pulling strings. I know you’ll be free, and as Tuesday evening is meant to be Uncle Jock’s free evening, I asked Mr. Old if Tuesday would be all right. He said, fine, so I got busy. I wrote to your mother, talked to Sister Wing, and told Uncle Jock it would be convenient for everyone if I went on Tuesday. He has masses of time-off owing to him, so I’ve got him to promise that if he can get away, he’ll drive us both down some time that afternoon. Does that suit you?’
‘It’s perfect. I’d love to go home with you ‒ but are you sure your uncle won’t mind my coming along for the ride?’
‘Why should he? He said he thought it a very sound scheme. We don’t want to rattle down in an empty car, leaving the daughter-of-the-house behind.’
She spoke so naturally that I was instantly reassured. Someone rang a bell just then and I sailed off to answer it, feeling as if I were walking on air.
I couldn’t understand why Standing was having an odd night off. They were generally highly unpopular with the whole night staff, and never given unasked to a senior staff nurse whose privilege it was to have four nights off in a row, every two weeks. But she had just said that one night off now would suit her better.
Illingworth looked harassed and weary long before midnight.
She was late with her report for Night Sister and we were both so late for our meals that we nearly missed them altogether. Night Sister was furious. ‘What are you Wing Nurses doing? Have you no consideration for the kitchen staff?’
Illingworth looked ready to weep when we eventually staggered off-duty in the morning over forty minutes late. ‘I don’t know how Standing copes, Blakney,’ she confided wearily. ‘If I were on here permanently at nights, I think I’d crack. I can’t imagine whom Matron will get to take over when she leaves next month. I’m only thankful it can’t be me, as I’m booked for Catherine Ward.’
I looked at her sharply. ‘Is Nurse Standing coming off nights? I didn’t know that.’
‘Oh my goodness, I shouldn’t have let that out! I wasn’t thinking what I was saying.’ Her smile was anxious as well as apologetic. ‘You’re a sensible girl, Blakney. Just keep it to yourself and forget it, until it’s announced officially.’
I promised to say nothing about it to anyone. ‘As you work with her, you must have guessed something was up,’ Illingworth went on. ‘These odd nights off, for one thing. So you’ll have a new senior for your last couple of weeks on nights.’
‘I suppose I will.’
‘You don’t seem very enthusiastic at the prospect. Have you now grown accustomed to working with Standing?’ she asked bluntly. She had always been a friendly senior and last night’s rush had resulted in her treating me as informally as if I belonged to her set. ‘Are you going to miss her?’
‘Yes, Nurse. She has taught me so much.’
She nodded. ‘She is a wonderful teacher ‒ when she considers someone worth teaching. She never bothers with the impossibles. She just tells Sister Wing that particular nurse is useless, Sister Wing tells Night Sister, and the nurse never returns to the Wing.’
The second-year table was very quiet. At first, I was too preoccupied with my thoughts to notice there was anything unusual in that quiet. It was only when Kirsty said brightly, ‘Jobbing’s a rotten job, Jo. Surely you prefer to remain peacefully in Catherine Ward?’ that I realised that I had been surrounded by an atmospheric silence.
‘What’s this about Catherine Ward?’ I asked.
Avis and Kirsty exchanged glances as Jo turned to me. ‘Someone seems to have had second thoughts about having me in the Wing,’ she drawled. ‘We night girls all know whom ‒ and why. Unfortunately, the hospital, not knowing the truth, will assume that I’m simply not up to the standard set by Little Miss Florence Nightingale Blakney!’ She smiled thinly at Avis. ‘Better polish up your lamp, Avis.’
‘Avis, are you doing my nights off? How?’ I demanded. ‘We have the same nights off.’
‘We haven’t now.’ Avis looked distressed. ‘I’ve had mine changed. I’ve got one night off tonight and the extra tacked on to next week’s ‒ from Saturday.’
‘I wish I could compliment you on being hauled into the breach,’ said Jo. ‘I’m afraid I can’t because it’s too obvious that Standing won’t have anyone around she considers a possible rival.’
I wondered if Standing had connected Jo with those needles. She was shrewd enough for anything. Or perhaps she had just considered Jo an impossible.
Jo, looking a little more pleased with herself, returned to her attack on Avis. ‘I hope, for your sake, that dear Standing hasn’t heard you’re now the Belle of the Drama Society, dear. What a good thing it is you’ve been so sensible about George Thanet! I’m much afraid that if she heard you were Cinderella plus George’s current young woman, she’d feel she had jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire by having you, instead of poor little me! The S.M.O. probably told her about the time he caught ‒’
Avis jumped up. ‘No doubt he did. And no doubt you’re right about it all, Jo. Forgive me, girls. If I want to get home today, I’ve got to move.’ She shot out of the dining-room.
‘You oughtn’t to jeer at her like that. She’s not used to it,’ I said to Jo. ‘And what’s that about Dr. Cameron?’
She pushed back her chair. ‘That? Oh, old history now, my dear. But I can’t stay to gossip.’ She waved a graceful hand and sauntered out after Avis.
I poured myself more tea. ‘What was all that about?’
‘Dr. Cameron caught George kissing some girl in some corridor and threatened to send both to the Dean and Matron respectively. You mean this is the first you’ve heard of it?’
‘When did this happen?’
‘I don’t know exactly. Jo got it out of Bill Flanders. She passed it on to Avis and me at one midnight meal.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘What’s the matter, Maggie? You look odd.’
‘I’ll tell you,’ I said flatly. ‘The girl Dr. Cameron found George with in the corridor was me.’ And I told her the whole story.
Her eyes widened. ‘It was you? And that was all there was to it? And Jock Cameron said not one word?’
‘Not one.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I myself am going to have something to say, though, to Avis, to Jo, George, and to Bill Flanders.’
She shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t.’
‘I must. I’ve got to explain to Avis.’
‘To her, maybe. She took it hard. I know, because I saw her face at the time. Talk to George if you can get him to keep it to himself, but don’t say anything to anyone else!’
‘But you say the whole night staff know? I want them to know the truth.’
‘Do you suppose anyone will believe it? Jo’s version is so much more interesting.’ Kirsty hesitated a few moments, then she added slowly, ‘The boys seem to
have shown some reticence in keeping your name out of it. Jo was furious with the miserable Bill for not telling her the name of the girl in question ‒ but he didn’t. Even he must have realised that a tale like that could do a lot more harm to a nurse than to a student.’
I thought this over and knew she was right. ‘I’ll stick to Avis and George. In fact I’ll go across now and catch her before she goes away. I don’t like misunderstandings.’
I hurried back to the Night Home, but Avis had already left. But I was determined not to waste any more time in setting her mind at ease. I sat down and wrote two letters. The first was to George. It was very brief. ‘What’s wrong with A is you and me. Contact me and I’ll explain. Love. Maggie.’ The letter to Avis took me much longer. I wasted several sheets of paper before I was satisfied.
Before I went to bed, I posted Avis’s letter and gave George’s to the Head Porter. I expected to find him outside the dining-room, or at the foot of the Wing stairs later on. He was in neither place. I was so convinced that he must be trying to find me that I waited at the foot of our stairs for several minutes. Dr. Cameron and Mr. Yates walked by, nodded at me, and went on with their conversation. When they returned a little later and saw me still standing in the same spot, their nods were curious. As they went on I heard Mr. Yates murmur, ‘Some luckless youth will catch it in the morning for not turning up as arranged.’
I felt very foolish.
When I returned to the Wing, Standing was back on duty and looking quite radiant. We were just as busy as last night but with her in charge again, the Wing ran smoothly and I even had time for a little chat with Fiona.
‘Uncle Jock says he hopes to be off by three-thirty tomorrow, Nurse. He’ll collect me first, then we’ll come and call for you. How’s that?’
A Ward Door Opens: A touching 1950s hospital romance (The Anniversary Collection Book 7) Page 11
