In Storm and In Calm

by Lucilla Andrews

  ‘Seeing you got them to us at this stage,’ rumbled Dai, ‘antibiotics should put them right. Another day or so, and it might have been another story.’

  The neighbour sighed. ‘Always something, so there is.’

  Both sisters were better next morning and while I was bringing them in, Olaf admitted our first child since my arrival. Her name was Susannah Blake, she was three and had acute appendicitis. Her mother came in with her and as the mini-children’s ward was otherwise empty we moved out two cots for Mrs Blake’s bed.

  Susannah was a doll. She had bright fluffy red hair, bright blue eyes and chubby cheeks that had recovered their colour by her first post-op morning. Alan drooled over her cot. ‘When Liz and I have a lassie she’ll look just like this one!’

  ‘But Liz is a blonde!’

  ‘So’s my maw. My paw’s hair was my colour, and my sister’s this colour. Do I have to move?’

  ‘Sorry, yes. You haven’t finished Mrs Laurenson’s notes and tomorrow she flies off ‒ if she can.’

  ‘And tonight’s my free evening and we’ve our last movie date. I’ll away.’ He tickled Susannah’s chin and she giggled wildly. ‘Cheerio, lassie!’

  ‘Cheerio!’ said Susannah.

  During the movie interval that evening, Alan said the gurrrls would murder him, but he thought it best to tip me off. ‘Surprise party for you Friday night. Mind you look surprised.’

  The following morning Maggie McEuan shut us both in the linen-room. ‘You’ll not have guessed, Staff, but I thought I should warn you ‒ it’s about Friday night …’

  The mist had gone with that morning’s tide, and the long green arms, the white lighthouses and the floating green leaf that was Bresswick were visible for the first time since Thursday night. Rod’s sister arrived on the first plane in and Mrs Laurensen and one of the married part-time staff nurses as escort flew to the mainland on the first plane out. Mr Norris now daily occupied the armchair formerly used by Mr Smythe. He still looked the very ill and frail old man he was, but the yellow tinge had gone from his wrinkled skin, and the view of the Sound in sunshine brought back his slow smile. He did not yet feel strong enough to read, listen to the radio, watch television or talk. ‘I like to sit and look out,’ he said, ‘just to sit and look out.’

  Olaf had suddenly slackened and while Mrs Blake was at lunch, I stayed with Susannah. She was going home tomorrow and was literally in bouncing form. When I persuaded her not to stand on her head, she decided to investigate her dressing. ‘No, sweetie, don’t do that.’ I lifted her out and sat with her on my lap. ‘You don’t want to pull off that sticky stuff yet and that’s how the doctor’s mended you.’

  ‘Will the doctor mend me again if I unmend me?’

  ‘Oh yes. And think how tired the poor doctor’ll get mending you twice.’ I wrapped a shawl round her. ‘How’s that? Sitting comfortably? Shall I tell you a story?’ She roared with laughter. ‘What’s funny, honey?’

  ‘You talk funny!’

  ‘That’s because I come from another island.’

  ‘Long way from my island?’

  ‘Very long way over the sea.’

  ‘My dada goes over the sea in a boat to catch fishes.’

  ‘Clever dada. Have you ever been on his boat?’

  She nodded vigorously. ‘Dada tells me the noise the sea makes. I can make the sea noise. Can you?’

  ‘Susannah, I’m not sure. Is it a sort of splash?’

  ‘No.’ She pursed her lips and reproduced perfectly the slither of a calm sea against rocks. ‘Sssh-sssh-sssh.’

  ‘You are clever!’ I kissed the top of her head. ‘Spot on, kid!’

  ‘Some staff nurses have it easy!’ observed Sister from the doorway. ‘Eh, Mr Moray?’

  ‘Indeed. Don’t move, Staff.’ They came in and he crouched by us. ‘Just a wee look at your tummy, Susannah.’

  It did not take him long to examine her wound, so she had to abandon her enchanted attempts to strangle him with his stethoscope. He gave it to her to play with as he straightened and lightly ruffled her hair. ‘You’re doing just fine, lassie,’ he muttered mechanically. His back was to Sister, so she missed the expression that for a very few seconds made him look years older. I recognized it for several reasons. He came out of it more quickly than the last time, but for those seconds he’d been back in hell. That day in the hills I had been upset for him: on this occasion I was horribly disturbed. When Sister was off that afternoon, I kept hoping he would come up to Olaf without having any clear idea what good that would do him or me. I just wanted to see him, and as we were quieter, the afternoon seemed endless. On paper he was free from six, but it seemed unlikely that he would be able to get off as during the morning one of the other local G.P.s had told Mrs Brown he had heard one of Mr Black’s partners had gone down with ’flu.

  Sister was due back at five. At half-past four Magnus appeared in the office doorway. ‘Mr Black’s just rung to say he’s on his way and can do the evening but not the night. I’ve said I’ll be back by eight and would rather like to do an early evening round now as when I return it’ll be visiting. Is that all right?’

  ‘Fine. Oh!’ Sister had swept him in. ‘You’re very early, Sister!’

  ‘I am. Interrupting anything important, Mr Moray?’

  ‘Just suggesting an early evening round, Sister. If it’s handing over time, I can start on my own.’

  ‘I’d be obliged if you would. I’ve just discovered this lass has slipped up!’

  ‘I have, Sister?’

  ‘Unless you’re sailing back to Scotland under another name?’

  ‘Oh, no! My berth ‒’

  ‘Oh aye. Forgotten, haven’t you? My neighbour’s just been down to book for herself. No Miss Anthony on Saturday’s list. Daft as a brush! Give me the report then get off and down to book before the office closes. I’ll be along soon as I’m down, Mr Moray.’

  ‘No hurry, Sister.’ He vanished.

  I saw him talking to Mr Norris when Sister saw me off to the head of the stairs. ‘Don’t forget, nine sharp. Second house on the right, second turning left up road from here. Blue door and you can’t miss it as there’s none other. Don’t waste time ringing the bell as it doesn’t work. Door’ll not be locked. Walk in.’

  Mrs Brown came out of her office as I reached the hall. ‘Ah, Nurse Anthony, you can save my feet!’ She handed me a batch of post. ‘All from this afternoon’s plane. Four for you. Your lucky day!’

  I smiled toothily to prove it was and went on over.

  Two of my letters were from my family, one was from Kirsty and the fourth from Mrs Warren. I read hers first. It was a very nice letter. She had heard from Mrs Brown ‘the type of unofficial and unsolicited report from one P.N.O. to another that had this P.N.O. oozing pride’. She insisted I took a week’s holiday on Martha’s payroll in addition to my owed days’ off on Thessa General’s before returning to take over Victoria. ‘From your description of Thessa in your last letter, I shall not be surprised to hear you’ve decided to spend this little break on that quiet, cosy little island. I only hope you will not be too shattered by your return to the hurly-burly of city life!’

  I brooded round my room for a good ten minutes. I thought of my flat and how much I always enjoyed having time off in London. I thought how amusing it would be to see more of Kirsty and time for some serious sight-seeing on Thessa. Accommodation was unlikely to be a problem since so many ‒ in fact every local married nurse with whom I had made friends, had offered me a bed for any length of time anytime I got back to Thessa for any reason. I thought of next week’s movie programme. It was a Horror Alan particularly wanted to see but said he would be far too frightened to face it alone. And then, of course, I thought about Magnus, his fishing holiday, his enigmatic relationship with Jenny, his job on the mainland and mine in London. A man I would enjoy remembering ‒ providing I got the hell out of it, fast. Hang about and oh so soon, memory would hurt.

  ‘Sailing Saturday five p.m.
all being well loading and weatherwise, Miss Anthony.’ The shipping clerk added my name to his bookings list. ‘With a good crossing you should reach the mainland about seven in the forenoon. Going on to London? Och, you’ll still have a long journey ahead. Rail or air?’

  ‘Rail. I’m in no hurry.’

  ‘The best way to travel. Have a safe journey and come back and visit us on Thessa soon.’

  The harbour was much more busy that evening. The fishing boats were full of men loading in empty baskets, winding ropes, oiling the winches, whistling and shouting to each other across the water and the wind that had risen in the last hour. The Russian and Danish ships had gone, but another Norwegian one was anchored beside an Italian and a Greek. At the far end of the quay a rig-supply vessel was taking on stores, and the quay in front of the white fish warehouse was lined with open, empty, fish boxes. The ubiquitous gulls fought, cried, glided, danced on the air that held more than a hint of real cold. I pulled up my anorak hood, but the wind blew it off when I walked over a narrow L-shaped quay jutting out into the water at right angles to the main quay. I walked to the end of the L not knowing for what I was searching until I found it.

  The lifeboat lay quietly in her special, sheltered berth in the angle of the L. I read her name, Harriet Ryan, and smiled involuntarily, as if meeting an old friend. She was a clean, cheerful little craft, with a bright orange superstructure, teak decks railed only by a thin chain, a tiny wheelhouse enclosed in steel and toughened glass, and her sides were light blue above and dark blue below the waterline. She was so small that in comparison the three anchored foreigners loomed up like three QE2s. I was very glad of the opportunity to look at her closely just once before I left, I decided on that Wednesday evening.

  I watched her for a very long time, then walked all round the harbour to look at the row of ancient houses built into the water on the oldest side of the quay. It was on my return that I discovered the small, unimpressive, single-storey stone building that bore the notice above a heavy wooden door: Headquarters Thessa Royal National Lifeboat Institution. Fixed to a wall near the door were two glass-and-metal framed lists. One contained the names of the present members of the lifeboat’s first and reserve crews. The other listed the dates and causes of the present year’s voyages. There were several: To the ship ‒ from Thessa. Gave help. Several: Escorted in fishing boatin trouble. Several: Took doctor to ‒ Took food and mails to ‒ Outnumbering all the rest, over and over: Brought a sick man from ‒ Brought a sick woman from ‒ Brought a sick child from ‒ And seventy-five per cent of these entries ended with the same words. I already knew these words could only be used in this context when there was no question of doubt. They were: And thereby saving his (or her) life.

  I thought aloud. ‘Lifeboat is the right name.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  I started violently. It was Magnus and he was standing beside me. ‘I thought it was you!’

  ‘Yes. I spotted you from back there.’ He jerked his head at a line of parked cars and dug his hands into the pockets of the suede driving coat he had on over his professional suit. ‘I hoped I would. I’ve been looking for you.’

  I was too pleased for my own comfort. ‘Why?’

  ‘There’s some news I’ve been meaning to give you since Sunday but the opportunity hasn’t arisen.’ He looked around, oddly, and I suddenly noticed he himself looked odd. ‘In any hurry?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Let’s get out of this wind. It’s after opening.’ He took me along a narrow cobbled passage a few yards away and opened what looked like the back door of a fisherman’s cottage. It was the main entrance of an old harbour pub. He sat me on a small, carved, wooden settle by a leaded window overlooking the waterfront. ‘What’ll you have?’

  ‘Sherry, dry as possible, please.’

  It was an attractive little pub but I only noticed that later. Magnus worried me. I watched him buying my sherry and his whisky and tried to work out what was so odd about his appearance. I got it when he sat down opposite me and handed over my drink. He looked like a man who had not just seen, but was still seeing ghosts. ‘Slàinte.’

  ‘Cheers,’ I said and waited.

  He put down his glass. It held a single, neat. ‘Rod Harding’s ex-wife has turned up.’

  ‘She has! Is that good?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He frowned as if translating his thoughts from the Gaelic. ‘Probably, in the short-term. This next ‒’ he went on very slowly, ‘is going to surprise you as much as it did me, since you know her under the maiden name to which she’s legally reverted. Jenny Pringle. Yes.’ He nodded at my expression. ‘My reaction. I didn’t know she’d been married. Not that there’s any reason why I should. Till Sunday I’d never told her about my own marriage as it’s not a subject I care to discuss even with old friends.’

  Chapter Ten

  The little pub was two-thirds empty and very peaceful. At the bar three young fishermen drinking whisky with beer chasers, chatted softly, incomprehensibly, with the aged barman. Two other fishermen and their girls had one of the other window seats. Being so early in the evening the glowing open fire kept the atmosphere free of tobacco and alcohol fumes and the brass ship’s bell above the fireplace reflected the glow.

  Magnus said, ‘Sister Olaf is a remarkably discreet woman.’

  I drank some more sherry. ‘I’ve found her so.’

  ‘Yes.’ He looked now as if he had begun to see me. ‘She had newly arrived on Thessa and was nursing my sister in Haralda, when Isobel heard the news. It ‒ it was the type that makes news. Hospital resident on duty collected by police as his home and family had been destroyed by fire.’

  ‘Family ‒ ?’ I muttered.

  He nodded very briefly.

  I couldn’t say anything because I knew there was nothing anyone could say that would help. I just looked at him and he returned my look until his breathing returned to normal. ‘Thanks,’ he said and took the subject back to Jenny. ‘I can’t think why I didn’t diagnose this earlier. I should’ve done. Remember the afternoon we landed?’

  ‘Yes. Clearly. Did she ask you if you knew who I was?’

  ‘Yes. I should’ve realized that was out of character. Normally, strangers only interest her when they turn patients. Never occurred to me her interest in you was based on your being met by Harding.’

  ‘Did you tell her he and I’d flown from London together and I’d then thrown up on you?’

  His eyes had relaxed enough to smile. ‘Something of that nature.’

  ‘I’ll bet! But I slipped up on this just as badly. Obvious now.’ I explained how Rod and I had only properly started chatting after he discovered I was a nurse bound for Thessa General. ‘I can’t be sure, but I am convinced that she’s why he got his boss to send him to Thessa. He’s not off the hook. He’d remarry her tomorrow, if she would. What did you mean by “probably good in the short term”?’

  ‘That being a nurse and a good one, she’s now finding it impossible not to be nice to him and inevitably, if you’re right about him and I think you are, that’ll start him hoping. No shot in the arm to beat hope, so it’ll boost his recovery. And being intelligent he’ll realize he can’t expect more until back on his feet.’

  ‘And by then fit enough to take what comes.’

  ‘Precisely. What do you think’ll come?’

  I thought it over, then shook my head. ‘Status quo unchanged. She may be fond of him, but she can’t still love him. If she did, she wouldn’t have taken his op for you. She’s too experienced not to know how easily her hands could’ve shaken when you opened his head. She wouldn’t have taken that chance.’

  ‘I agree.’ He hesitated, then ‒ ‘I’ll tell you now, this aspect puzzled me about you when you insisted you were fit to work after his accident, and looked it. Calm.’

  I smiled faintly, ‘Did you write it off as insensitive English phlegm?’

  ‘Insensitive was not the word that occurred to me in that context. Have another
sherry?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ I nodded at his drink. ‘Isn’t it good whisky?’

  ‘Quite, but I’ve had all I want.’

  ‘Of course, you’re on at eight.’

  ‘That’s so.’

  We continued to discuss Rod and Jenny for another half hour then he drove me back to the Home. On the way he asked if half the hospital had taken me on one side about Friday’s party.

  ‘Just about.’

  ‘No doubt. I’m sorry I’ve been unable to accept the invitation about which you must know nothing, but I’m on that night. My brother-in-law, I’ve now heard, is returning by Friday’s steamer. Saturday forenoon’ll be occupied handing back to him and then I’ve got to attend an official lunch. I was just wondering ‒’ he paused to turn in and draw up outside the Home main entrance ‒ ‘if you’ve yet made any arrangements about getting on the steamer.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Like a lift? And maybe a cup of tea first? I should be free by half-past three and Mr Black’s not arriving to collect me in his boat until six. Plenty of time to see you aboard and if you’re there by four-thirty you’ll be in good time.’

  I said that would be very nice, thanked him for the sherry and got out of the car rather quickly. Then I had to rush back. ‘I’ve forgotten to ask. Is Jenny officially the former Mrs Rod?’

  ‘Yes. From this afternoon.’

  Superficially, that seemed to add up but being in no mood for the superficial I didn’t bother to do the sum.

  I met Sister Olaf on her own doorstep. ‘Come on in, lass. Won’t take me long to get organized. We’ll go into the kitchen and you can find a seat while I get cracking.’ She hung up our coats, combed and re-battened her hair beneath the outsize kirby grips. ‘Nasty evening.’