Hilary felt she must be dreaming, but it was no dream. Monica was in the flat awaiting her arrival. Sam, she said, had admitted her. The fire was glowing, the kettle singing on its stand and two small armchairs were drawn up with a cosy air of welcome. A large bunch of spring flowers stood in a tall vase, their fragrance sending heady sweetness into the still air.
“I saw these yesterday,” Monica said, gesticulating as Hilary exclaimed in delight. “I know it was extravagant, so early in the year, but that’s the time I always feel it’s not an extravagance to buy flowers, if that doesn’t sound too contrary! What I mean is that when the world’s cold and it’s so far from summer, it seems flowers bring something we can’t get elsewhere ... a sort of renewal of hope, or something,” she ended, suddenly embarrassed.
“I think I know what you mean,” Hilary said, gently touching the yellow, almost golden petals of one of the flowers with a finger. “I think it was more than thoughtful of you. It’s made the flat seem more like a home than anything else could ever have done. Thank you.”
“Come and see how I’ve arranged things. You’ll arrange everything as you want it later, I know. But I wanted it to look especially welcoming, your first day here.” She turned abruptly and added, “Mum wondered if you’d care to lunch with us and make a day of it,” she urged. “Will you?”
“I ... I hadn’t thought of it.” Hilary was confused.
“Come along, Hilary love, make up your mind. I asked Andrew Stirling to wait, just in case.”
Andrew was waiting. He and Sam, with Jake, tongue lolling out, lying on the floor between them, were sharing a welcome hot drink and a pipe of tobacco in the caretaker’s office. Andrew rose to his feet as the two girls approached.
“Nurse will be back later, Sam,” Monica said briskly. “What time do you go off duty?”
“Seven-thirty Monday mornin’, miss,” Sam said promptly.
“Then that’s all right.” Monica seemed satisfied.
Hilary, however, wondered why Monica Dawson should take all this trouble over her. They had always been on good, friendly terms, but this was so ... so unusual that it was almost too good to be believed.
The fleeting thought that it might have some connection with the fact that the manager of Vale’s was Monica’s brother crossed her mind, but when they entered the house and she was being welcomed by Ann Dawson and her jovial husband any idea of connecting her new status with Monica’s brother seemed absurd.
CHAPTER FOUR
For the first time Hilary wakened without a rising bell to summon her to duty.
As though from a distance, the subdued murmur of the huge store waking to another day reached her ears. Hilary’s thoughts flew back to the previous evening, when she had returned from the Dawsons’, escorted by Mark and his sister. Monica had stayed to talk with Sam, leaving her brother to take Hilary up to the flat. She herself had joined them about five minutes later, reporting that Sam had offered to bring a cup of tea up to the new nurse before he went off duty, but that she had persuaded him that Hilary would much rather make her own tea around eight or eight-thirty when the store actually opened for business.
“He means well,” Monica reported, laughing.
“You’re sure you’ll be all right, Nurse Bell?” Mark had insisted for at least the fourth time. “Sam’s not deaf, thank goodness, and if you ... if there should be anything at all to disturb you during the night, press this little bell.” He indicated a push-button on the wall. “It connects with the outer office, and that’s where Sam spends most of his time when he’s not actually making his rounds.”
“I can’t think what on earth could possibly disturb me, Mr. Dawson,” Hilary had said truthfully. “I think Sam and Jake between them have me well protected.”
“Get a good night’s rest, Hilary,” Monica advised as brother and sister prepared to leave the flat. “Mark says no one comes into the store much before nine—only girls on their way to work and so on—so I don’t think there’ll be very much for you to worry about until the morning’s worn on a little, and perhaps not even then. I’ll pop into the store if I get a few hours free,” she promised, “but with any luck I’ll probably see you a mum’s before then. ‘Bye!”
They had left her then, and she had spent an hour or so exploring the small flat, investigating the tiny but perfect kitchen, the small store of useful dry and canned food someone—Mark, perhaps, or Monica—had placed in the cupboards.
The entire flat was wonderfully appointed, she discovered. “This is going to be fun!” she sighed as she climbed gratefully into bed.
It was fun. Next morning she dressed swiftly, donning the uniform that Simon had insisted would be so necessary to distinguish her from the other members of Vale’s staff. She was particular—perhaps just a shade more so than usual, for whatever happened she was determined to make a good first impression.
She quietly left the flat about ten minutes to nine. It was but a minute or two’s journey down to the first-aid room—or should she call it “center?”
That’s something I’ll have to be clear about, she decided.
The door was unlocked and the room was warm and welcoming. Hilary moved over to the desk and was astonished to find two notes there. The first one asked for an appointment with the nurse at half-past nine and was signed “Carruthers.” The second asked for an appointment at ten-thirty “if convenient” and was signed “Nita Dewhirst.”
Hilary made a note of both times in the record sheet, which awaited her attention, and then settled down to take a second look at her new surroundings.
She had not time to do more than make a quick inspection of the equipment provided, when someone tapped on the door.
“Nurse?” The girl was small and slight, but there was an open curiosity about her that Hilary was not in the least certain she cared for. She held out her right hand, one finger extended. “I was moving a crate,” she began to explain. “I’m in Glassware, you know. We’re supposed to call one of the men to move the crates for us, but everyone seemed busy and I’d a customer waiting...”
“Let me see.” Hilary took the small, rather bony hand in her own cool ones. “I see,” she observed quietly. “You’ve managed to run a splinter of wood down the side of your fingernail. Just a moment.”
The whole affair didn’t take long and though the girl flinched she uttered no sound as Hilary deftly removed the splinter.
“Thanks, nurse.” The girl looked up at her with a smile. “I was one of those who said we didn’t need you, and here I am, the first person in the place to need your help! What’s that about pride going before a fall?” She laughed again and turned as she reached the door. “I’m Carol Wray,” she said abruptly. “Ask for me any time you need anything from my department, won’t you?”
“I’ll remember,” Hilary promised, making a mental note to do no such thing! She had no intention of starting out on her new job with any favors from anyone on the staff! Mr. Simon had already told her privately that if she wanted to make any purchase she was to use her privilege as a member of the staff and would be allowed a discount. That was sufficient for Hilary.
Business, as Monica Dawson would have said had she been there, became brisk after that! There was a girl from the cosmetic counter with “a raging head, nurse. Feels like it’s splitting open.”
Hilary gave her two aspirins, allowed her to rest half an hour until the dose had taken effect, and then gave her a two-minute talk on the inadvisability of staying up dancing until, all hours of the morning.
Half past nine brought the prompt tap of “Carruthers” on her door. He proved to be a burly porter who had forgotten the insulin he needed for his treatment as a diabetic. Hilary telephoned his doctor, listened carefully to his instructions and administered an injection of insulin. When he had had a short rest, Carruthers apologized once again for being “a blinkin’ nuisance” and promised never to forget his reserve supply again.
Hilary was still smiling to herself as a lig
ht, happy voice hailed her from the doorway.
“May I please come in, nurse?” the newcomer asked, not waiting for permission but walking into the room almost as if she belonged there. “I’m Nita Dewhirst,” she introduced herself. “I saw you being shown around the store the other day, but I was ... otherwise engaged!” she concluded with a fascinating gurgle of laughter.
Hilary wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. The girl’s face was familiar, but she couldn’t think where she had seen her.
“I was the Spring Bride,’ Nita said, laughing again. “Remember there was a fashion show going on when you were walking around? We have a lot of off-the-peg bridal fashions, you know, nurse, and it is almost Easter! Another six or seven weeks.”
“You were the model?” Hilary remembered suddenly. “I do recall seeing you, of course, but you looked so different.” She blushed a little. It seemed such a stupid remark to make, but Nita seemed to quite understand.
“I’m the head model here,” she said quietly and without any pretensions toward false modesty. “I’ve been here for five years ... ever since I won a beauty competition, in fact. I did a world tour soon afterward, but that kind of life didn’t appeal to me and still doesn’t.”
“I think you’re very wise,” Hilary said truthfully, wondering why on earth this small, compact person who appeared to radiate vitality had come to see her.
“I’m a great deal wiser than a number of people think me, nurse,” Nita said solemnly. “I see most of what goes on in and around this store from the model stand, and not all of it is, well, nice to brood about, if you get my meaning?”
“I don’t.” Hilary wasn’t angry; it was simply that her years at St. David’s had taught her the unreliability of the grapevine gossip.
“Now you’re angry,” Nita was saying gently. “Please don’t be, not with me! I just want to tell you, whatever you do, be careful not to upset Aida Everett where Mr. Dawson’s concerned! She’s made up her mind she’ll be engaged to him before the next annual staff dance! And he’s utterly defenseless. He’s too nice to fight! Aida’s a strange person, and when she makes up her mind to do something she doesn’t care to what lengths she has to go to get what she wants! She doesn’t care who else gets hurt, either! I know you’re a friend of Miss Dawson’s—Monica’s—and I’ve known her for a long time. That’ll put you on the wrong side of Aida to begin with! I know I must sound a really horrible person to be talking to you in this fashion—” Nita made a wry face “—but I’m not, not really.”
“I wouldn’t have thought so,” Hilary managed to break in, suddenly aware the other girl was obviously under severe strain. It was probably all quite emotional and nothing more, but emotions, as Hilary’s work had taught her, could be responsible for a physical complaint. Only in these past few years, when so much had been discovered about the mind’s effect on the physical body, had people realized so fully that often what seemed physical illness was an outward expression of mental stress in some form or another.
“You’re probably trying to ... put me on my guard, I believe would be the best phrase,” she said quietly, and had the satisfaction of seeing some of the tension leave Nita’s face, some of the indignation fade from her expressive eyes.
“I’ll remember,” she promised firmly. “But so far,” she continued in a tone she was careful to refrain from making sound rebuking, “I haven’t had anything to do with the lady in question, and unless she is ill or something like that happens, I don’t suppose we shall ever have much to do with one another. I gathered when I came around with Mr. Dawson and Mr. Simon that she didn’t really approve of my being here at all!”
“Because you’re not middle-aged, married or widowed!” Nita said vehemently. “You ought to have heard her this morning!”
“Really?” Hilary could have kicked herself for giving way to the temptation to ask what all this fuss was about, but Nita, it appeared, had only needed just such an opening.
“You living in Mr. Dawson’s flat, for one thing,” she said quietly. “Aida intends to make something nasty out of that, if she can! Don’t tell me,” she held up a warning hand as Hilary was about to explain. “I know Mark’s never used it, because he lives at home. I know, and so do you and he and presumably his sister, and of course Mr. Simon. Half the staff haven’t been here all their lives, though, and it’s among the younger ones that Aida holds a great deal of sway.”
“You don’t seem afraid of her?” Hilary hazarded a guess, and Nita smiled a little contemptuously.
“I’m not,” she said flatly. “That’s partly what makes us quarrel all the time. I know old Mrs. Vale very well, and I’ve known the whole family for years! They were delighted when I didn’t take up any of the really wonderful offers that were made to me when I won the competition. Old Mrs. Vale said if I’d promise never to leave Vale’s without good reason they, in return, would guarantee my job here for as long as I wanted it! Of course, if we’d been lucky enough to have had a family,” she said, her voice changing tone significantly, “I wouldn’t have stayed on for so long, but—” she shrugged prettily “—no one can have everything, can they? It’s my belief we’ve got to make the most of what we have, not moan for what we wish we did have!”
“A sound philosophy!” Hilary laughed. “I try to look on things in much the same way myself. Not always successfully, though, I’m afraid.”
She heard someone approaching her door and added in a brisk tone, “I’ll think about it, Mrs. Dewhirst, and let you know what I’ve decided. We must have another talk some time,” then turned to greet a girl who said she had been stacking boxes in one of the store rooms and misjudged the balance of the pile on which she was working. A number of boxes had crashed on her head, but Hilary, examining where the girl insisted her head and shoulder were badly bruised, felt that the child—she was little more—was more frightened than hurt.
This and several other small accidents or illnesses filled the remainder of the day, but long before closing time for the store arrived, Hilary felt she had met almost every one of the numerous employees.
She had not, of course, met even half of them, but so many people had come to see her for so many trivial matters that she was beginning to feel a little exasperated about this question of light duties.
If she had to stand this sort of thing for a whole year, she reflected as she tidied her room before closing the door for the day, she had a feeling she’d be in need of some sort of treatment herself! She certainly didn’t want a catastrophe or anything drastic to happen, but if one more person came in for “something for a headache” or “to settle my stomach, please, nurse,” she thought she’d go stark, raving mad! It was only fair to give the thing a proper trial, she knew. She owed that much to Monica and to Matron ... but this sort of day as a regular performance would do more to make her a nervous wreck than all the hard work on the unit!
She had been on the point of closing her door when she saw a slightly built woman hesitatingly approaching. As soon as she caught sight of Hilary it seemed the woman made up her mind to turn tail and run away, but perhaps the encouraging smile Hilary sent in her direction decided her that it might be as well to conclude her obvious first intention.
“Did you want me?” Hilary began, standing outside the door and opening it wide. For a moment the woman hesitated, then nodded.
“If you can spare a moment, please, nurse,” she began. “You see it’s not because I’m ill or anything, it’s just ... I don’t want to go home, and they’ll all be waiting for their meal, Sam and Joyce and Jimmy when he gets home from school...”
“Won’t you come inside and talk about it?” Hilary invited, and with a hesitant glance over her shoulder the woman slipped—there was no other way to describe the almost furtive manner in which she did it—into the room.
“I’m Lilian Baker, nurse,” she began. “I’ve worked in Millinery here ever since my mum brought me here to learn the trade. Sam—that’s my husband—drives for Vale’s.”
> “I see.” Hilary didn’t in the least “see,” but Lilian Baker seemed encouraged by this simple assertion.
“We’ve been drawing lots for the holidays, you know,” she hurried on as though anxious to put her trouble into words. “I don’t suppose you’ll have to do anything like that—” she gave a wan smile “—as you’re the only medico, so to speak, in the entire store. You’ll be like the office staff. You’ll have your holidays fixed when it suits you?” she ended on a questioning note.
“I really haven’t thought about it,” Hilary answered truthfully.
Lilian Baker continued her story in a disconsolate tone of voice. “That’s where our trouble started, you see, Sam’s and mine. Mr. Simon’s very good. If a married couple both work for Vale’s, he makes certain our holidays are at the same time. Last year it was Sam’s turn to have the first draw. I suppose we were lucky, really. We had a good two weeks, right at the beginning of June they were, and the weather was lovely. It was just that Sam wouldn’t settle for anything else but one of those holiday camp places. I hated every minute. When I’ve worked hard here all the year around, looked after the family in the evenings and at weekends, I’d like a holiday in a quiet boarding house or something. I want someone to look after me for a bit of a change ... and we’re arguing about it night after night, until—” the vague blue-gray eyes began to swim with tears “—even young Jimmy said last night he’d rather not have a holiday at all than have all this fuss ... and I know Joyce feels the same way!”
She looked pathetically at Hilary as though expecting some solution to her problem on the spot, and as the nurse looked back at her Lilian Baker’s lower lip began to tremble.
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