‘Not a hope,’ replied Dr Headfort. ‘I never even saw them. By the way I’m Dr Headfort. We were on our way to the hospital but we missed the turning and had to go back – and then we got lost. I expect you can tell us where we are.’
‘You’re there, sir,’ said the policeman cheerfully. ‘This is the back of the ’ospital. There’s a door about twenty yards down the street. Better take the lady in that way. I’ll show you.’
CHAPTER TWO
The fog had invaded the hospital, and although it was not so dense as it was in the streets it was thick enough to be extremely unpleasant. The windows had been shut all day so the atmosphere was stale; there was a constant sound of coughing. In the wide passages, where the nurses hurried to and fro, the fog curled and eddied; in the wards it stagnated until the door was opened and then swirled languidly.
There were two other patients in Ward 17 where Barbie France was lying. She had been in a small ward by herself, but they had moved her two days ago.
‘It will be more cheerful for you,’ said the Sister briskly. ‘You’re better now and it will be nice to have company.’
Barbie did not find it cheerful. She could scarcely see her two companions but their voices went on all day long, complaining voices. They talked about the awful price of food and the awful price of clothes and how they couldn’t make ends meet no matter how they tried – but they both had ‘tellies.’ They talked about the awful way their neighbours’ children were being brought up and about the inconsiderate behaviour of their husbands. One of them was pretty certain her husband was ‘carrying on’ with another woman. The other advised her to ‘have it out’ with him.
‘I don’t stand no nonsense with mine,’ declared the complaining voice. ‘Stick up for yourself, that’s what I say. If you don’t stick up for yourself there’s nobody else is going to stick up for you.’
Barbie listened to the voices. She tried not to listen but she could not shut her ears.
Barbie had been taken ill suddenly. It was when she was talking to Mr Garfield about a contract for re-decorating a large and very luxurious flat in Kensington for a woman who seemed to have more money than taste. One moment she had felt perfectly well and the next moment Mr Garfield’s office began to go round and round and Mr Garfield’s face, with the big flashing spectacles (which gave him such an owlish appearance) dissolved before her astonished gaze … and his voice faded out …
Barbie had never been ill before; she was an exceedingly strong, healthy young woman, so she was not a very good patient and the mysterious nature of her complaint was alarming. Every night her temperature soared sky-high and every morning it dropped like a spent rocket. It was ‘a virus’ the doctors said, but Barbie suspected that they did not know much about it. They had to say something. Evidently it was an unusual and interesting virus for quite a number of doctors had come to look at her and sounded her heart and tapped her knees and done other curious and uncomfortable things. Barbie had lain supine and allowed them to do what they liked. Her body was not her own any more. If it had been her body, only, Barbie would not have minded so much, but ‘the virus’ had invaded her soul. Yes, her very soul tainted with the poison so that she was not Barbie any more.
Barbie was usually cheerful and happy, vitally interested in life, vitally interested in her fellow creatures. It was not so now. She lay and gazed at the ceiling and wallowed in self-pity. ‘They’ told her she was better. ‘They’ said the virus had ‘burnt itself out’ but she did not feel better. She felt worse if anything. She felt like a rag. Nobody understood how ill she was – nobody cared. She did not care herself. What was life anyhow? Life wasn’t worth living, it was just a senseless grind: getting up in the morning, going to work in a crowded bus; advising people about paint and paper and curtains; making out estimates with Mr Garfield; making little sketches for Miss Smithers; explaining to the girls in the work-rooms exactly what she wanted them to do! All quite useless and stupid, thought Barbie.
Two large tears formed themselves in Barbie’s eyes and rolled on to her cheeks. She let them roll. Nobody cared. Even Nell did not care. Nell had promised to look in about six – it was long after six and Nell had not come. Why should Nell come? Nell obviously had found something better to do than visit a sick friend.
‘Barbie!’ said Nell’s voice.
Barbie turned her head and there was Nell.
‘Darling – you’re crying!’ exclaimed Nell in alarm.
‘No, not really –’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. Everything. I don’t know –’
‘It’s just that you’ve been ill,’ Nell told her.
‘Everything’s miserable,’ murmured Barbie. ‘The day seems so long when the lights are on all the time. There’s no difference between night and day – and those women talk – they’re miserable too – and the fog makes my eyes water –’
‘Of course you’re feeling miserable, poor pet, but you’re better, you know. The Sister says you’re better.’
‘I’m not better,’ said Barbie … but she said it without conviction for you could not look, at Nell and not feel better. Nell was so pretty and there was so much affection shining in her face.
‘It’s lovely that you’re better,’ declared Nell, sitting down and taking Barbie’s hand. ‘I’ve been terribly worried about you and the flat is an absolute desert – I can hardly bear it. Everybody has been worried. Your aunt has been ringing up every night to ask for you. Mr Garfield says –’
‘Mr Garfield?’
‘Yes, he says they miss you frightfully, but you’re not to think of going back to work until you’re perfectly fit. You’re to have a long holiday –’
‘What’s the good?’ said Barbie with a sigh.
‘What’s the good?’
‘What’s the good of anything? What’s the good of getting fit? Fit for what? Fit to go back to the treadmill!’
‘But you love your job!’
‘Its so useless.’
‘It isn’t useless – making houses beautiful for people to live in. That’s a worth-while job.’
‘I don’t know why you bother about me,’ Barbie said.
Nell had been warned that Miss France was ‘a little depressed’ but even so she was alarmed. This pale languid invalid, lying in bed and being sorry for herself, was so unlike Barbie. There was no life about her; even her hair, instead of springing from her head in copper-coloured rings, lay dank and streaky upon her forehead. Her cheeks were as white as paper and there were violet shadows beneath her eyes. She looks iller than ever, thought Nell in dismay.
Aloud Nell said, ‘We’ll soon have you on your legs again.’
‘I don’t know why you bother,’ repeated Barbie.
‘Of course I bother.’
‘I thought perhaps you weren’t coming today.’
‘You mean because I was late? It was the fog, darling. The fog is frightful. We got completely lost.’
Nell hesitated. The Sister had said that Miss France would be ‘all the better for a nice chat.’
‘Tell her things that will amuse her,’ said the Sister.
Would it amuse Barbie to hear about the adventure or would it worry her?
‘You said “we,” ’ Barbie reminded her. ‘Was somebody with you? Go on, Nell. Tell me.’
The other two women in the ward had stopped talking and were listening with all their ears, but the ‘adventure’ was private so Nell knelt down and whispered.
Barbie listened and was interested. ‘Do you really mean you got lost?’ she asked incredulously.
‘My dear, it was like lentil soup. We couldn’t see anything. We could hardly breathe. Dr Headfort had a torch, but that didn’t help very much. We crawled along by the railings. Then he said we must have missed the turning so we went back … and then we were absolutely lost.’
‘Were you frightened?’
‘Not really,’ said Nell in a doubtful voice. ‘I don’t know why – except that he’s a very resp
onsible sort of person. He’s the kind of person who makes you feel safe.’
‘I’d like to see him.’
‘You’re going to see him. I asked him to come and look at you and he said he would. You won’t think much of him – I mean he’s tall and thin and rather ugly, so don’t expect to see an Adonis.’
‘What happened next?’
Nell continued the story. She was a good raconteuse and the story lost nothing in the telling … and when she reached the point where she and her escort had been attacked by footpads Barbie was very interested indeed. So interested that she quite forgot herself.
‘Two men!’ exclaimed Barbie in horrified tones. ‘Goodness, how awful! What were they like?’
‘I’ve no idea. We never saw them. We just heard their footsteps approaching and Dr Headfort called out and asked where we were, but instead of answering they barged into us. One of them went for the doctor and the other seized my bag.’ She paused and then added very, very softly, ‘Barbie, I broke his arm.’
The policeman had received this statement with incredulity, but Barbie was aware that it might well be true.
Some time ago a little Japanese had come to lodge in the flat below that occupied by Nell and Barbie and had hung out a card advertising the fact that he was an exponent of ju-jitsu. The card caught Barbie’s eye and she suggested to Nell that it would be rather fun. Nell had needed no persuasion – of course it would be fun – and they arranged to have lessons. Unfortunately they were induced to pay in advance and before they were half-way through the course their instructor vanished. He disappeared in the night leaving no address. For a time the two girls continued to practise together and then they discovered that they knew too little about it – or too much. Nell very nearly got her neck broken; it was stiff for days. Of course it was a mistake and Barbie was full of contrition. ‘It’s all right,’ said Nell. ‘But we’d better stop. “A little learning is a dang’rous thing.” ’ They took up Country Dancing instead.
‘Did you really – break his arm?’ whispered Barbie.
‘Yes, really. Of course I didn’t mean to,’ explained Nell. ‘I was a bit excited – the creature had grabbed my bag – so I caught hold of his arm and held it – you know the way – and he struggled – and the bone went snap. He yelled like anything and dropped the bag on the pavement and ran for his life, Barbie it was horrible. It made me sick – yes, absolutely sick.’
‘Nell, how awful!’
‘Awful! I never was so ashamed in all my life. Fortunately the doctor is a doctor. I mean he didn’t panic or make a fuss like any ordinary man would have. He just gave me his bottle of smelling-salts and said I would be better soon – and of course I was. It was the creature’s arm breaking that made me sick. So horrible!’ added Nell with a shudder.
‘Don’t think about it,’ whispered Barbie. ‘It was his fault, not yours, and perhaps it will be a lesson to him. Did you tell Dr Headfort?’
‘I told the policeman but he didn’t believe me. I suppose it does sound rather incredible,’ said Nell thoughtfully.
They were silent for a few moments and then Barbie said, ‘I think Dr Headfort sounds nice. You always say he’s inhuman.’
‘Not inhuman, just sensible. There’s no silly nonsense about him. He treats me as a secretary ought to be treated, and that’s what I prefer. I don’t believe he’s ever seen me,’ added Nell in reflective tones. ‘I’m just a piece of furniture in his consulting-room, like his desk and his filing-cabinet.’
‘Perhaps it will be different now.’
‘Different?’
‘Well, he’s seen you,’ Barbie pointed out.
Nell chuckled. ‘He saw me being sick in the gutter – if that’s what you mean.’
It was – and it wasn’t – but by this time Barbie was too tired to explain. The little chat with Nell had excited her, and for a few minutes she had felt better, but now the reaction was setting in and she felt worse than before.
‘Darling, I’ve talked too much!’ exclaimed Nell in alarm.
‘Just – tired,’ murmured Barbie. ‘So – tired –’
Nell had risen to call the Sister when Dr Mills came in, followed by Dr Headfort.
‘No, really, I’m only too pleased,’ Dr Mills was saying. ‘If you can suggest anything –’
‘I’ve tired her,’ said Nell quickly. ‘They said I was to talk to her – so I did – but she isn’t fit to talk. What a fool I am!’
Dr Headfort bent down and took Barbie’s hand. For a few moments he stood there holding it and saying nothing.
Barbie had wanted to see Dr Headfort, but now she was too tired to speak to him, she was too tired even to see him properly – his face was a blur – but she managed to smile wanly.
‘Couldn’t you – give her something?’ whispered Nell.
‘Better not. Rest is what she needs.’ He looked round and added, ‘Don’t you think Miss France would be more peaceful in a private ward?’
‘Oh, she was in a private ward,’ said Dr Mills. ‘We moved her because Sister Smart thought it would be cheerful. Sister Smart has had a great deal of experience.’
Nell, listening to this, hoped Dr Headfort would press the matter for she agreed with his views, but he only nodded and said, ‘Oh, yes. I see.’
After that the two doctors chatted for a few minutes about the patient’s treatment and then they went away. Nell kissed her friend and followed hastily; she did not intend to let Dr Headfort out of her sight. He had said they could walk home together, but he might forget, and although Nell had said she was not frightened she had no wish to walk back alone.
‘I’m inclined to think it would be the best thing,’ Dr Headfort was saying when Nell overtook them. ‘As a matter of fact I’m getting all my patients out of town – all that can possibly be moved – not only the respiratory cases.’
‘You think we’re in for a spell of it?’ asked Dr Mills.
‘Looks like that to me. If Miss France has any relative in the country –’
‘Her aunt would have her,’ cried Nell.
The two men paused.
‘Her aunt – Lady Steyne – she has a house in the Cotswolds – but Barbie couldn’t be moved, could she?’
‘I should be inclined to move her,’ said Dr Headfort slowly. He looked at Dr Mills and added, ‘But of course you know her condition much better than I do. It’s merely a suggestion.’
Dr Mills hesitated. Miss France was a worrying case. Neither he nor anyone else knew exactly what had been the matter with her. Now that the temperature had steadied she ought to have been gaining strength, but she had begun to slip backwards. It would be a risk to send her … but it was a risk to keep her. He wished somebody else could make the decision.
‘I think she could stand the journey in an ambulance,’ said Dr Headfort.
Dr Mills nodded. ‘Yes, I agree. Under ordinary circumstances I shouldn’t care to risk it, but this fog is the very devil. Are you sure her aunt could have her?’
‘I’m sure,’ said Nell eagerly. ‘I’ll ring up Lady Steyne tonight. When can she go?’
‘The sooner the better,’ said Dr Mills.
The arrangements were made and Sister Smart (who was in charge of Ward 17) was informed that Miss France was being moved to the country tomorrow. Dr Mills told her himself and warned her that the ambulance would be ready about eleven.
Sister Smart was amazed. She thought it was crazy, but it was not her duty to make any objections so she held her tongue. As a matter of fact she would be glad to see the last of Miss France. Miss France was not the sort of patient she liked. Miss France had been very ill; she was better now but she was not trying to get well. She just lay and gazed at the ceiling. Sister Smart was not acquainted with young Mrs Dombey (if she had been she would have agreed with Mrs Chick), but she had known other ‘cases’ which could have recovered if they had made an effort to do so – and had died because they wouldn’t try to live. Patients who behaved like that were no credit.
Far otherwise.
Only yesterday morning Dr Mills had said, ‘Miss France isn’t making any headway. In fact she’s lost ground.’ He had said it in a grumbling tone of voice which had annoyed Sister Smart.
‘Miss France is receiving every attention,’ Sister Smart had replied.
‘Oh, I know,’ said Dr Mills hastily. ‘I was just wondering if we were wise to move her into the larger ward.’
Wise to move her from one ward to another, and now he was sending her away to the country in an ambulance! Whatever next! thought Sister Smart. Miss France received every attention and if she did not get better here was it likely she would get better elsewhere?
Sister Smart’s policy was to keep her patients in the dark. If you told them anything they fussed and objected and worked themselves up. As a matter of fact Miss France had seemed very low this morning and her pulse was weaker. The night Sister had reported that she had not slept and had complained that one of her companions snored. Sister Smart wondered whether she ought to tell Dr Mills but decided not to. He had said Miss France was to go and it was all arranged.
Miss France knew nothing of this. She was told nothing about all the plans which had been made on her behalf. She lay and gazed at the ceiling until suddenly two men appeared with a stretcher followed by Nell and Sister Smart. Nell had got leave from Dr Headfort to come to the hospital and see that all went well.
‘You’re quite happy about going, aren’t you, darling?’ asked Nell.
‘Going!’ exclaimed Barbie in alarm.
‘Of course she’s pleased,’ declared Sister Smart. ‘Who wouldn’t be pleased to get out of this fog?’
‘Where?’ cried Barbie. ‘Where am I going?’
‘Haven’t you told her?’ demanded Nell. ‘Why on earth haven’t you told her?’
‘Much better not. They only worry,’ murmured Sister Smart.
By this time the ambulance men were ready and there was no time to be lost.
‘You’re going to Underwoods,’ said Nell breathlessly. ‘Dr Headfort thinks it’s a splendid plan to get you away to the country. I phoned last night – it’s all fixed – I thought they would tell you –’
The Tall Stranger Page 2