by Betty Neels
‘And me in particular. I can’t think why.’
Fiona looked as though she was going to say something, but she swallowed the last of the biscuit instead. ‘Well, Tilly, I’m off to bed. See you in the morning. You do know that there’s no consultant’s round in the morning, don’t you? Dr Evans told me.’
‘I didn’t know— I daresay she forgot. Jeff Saunders will be doing it instead?’
‘Yes. Are you off in the evening? Let’s go out to eat—most of us are off duty, we’ll make up a party.’
‘That’s be fun. It will give us a chance to get together over Christmas.’
The days slid by, by the end of the week Clotilde felt as though she had never been away. Leyden was a dream which she had precious little time to remember and James had disappeared into thin air. She plunged into preparations for Christmas—ward decorations, extra food for the patients, off duty for the nurses, and on her first free morning, she went to see Mr Trent again.
He received her kindly, as he always did, assured her that everything was going exactly as it should and presented her with a list of the furniture which had been valued. The total surprised her, she had no idea that it would be so much; when she phoned Rosie, she had been told that two gentlemen had been and spent hours poking around the house, saying almost nothing, and Clotilde had gained the impression that they hadn’t thought much of anything. She looked up at Mr Trent and asked: ‘Isn’t this an awful lot of money?’
‘The value of the furniture, my dear—no more, no less. Your parents had some nice pieces. Remember that you still have to choose anything you wish to keep for yourself.’
She nodded. ‘And Rosie? Has anything been said about her staying on?’
‘I’m glad to say that the new owner wishes her to remain. I thought it best if you were to tell her when you see her.’
He shuffled some papers before him. ‘I’m told that the new owner will not be taking up residence just yet, and he has instructed his solicitor to inform me that you are at liberty to visit Miss Hicks if you should wish to do so, and that the furniture you may choose to take may remain in the house until such time as you have found suitable accommodation for yourself.’
Clotilde looked at him doubtfully. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she confessed. ‘I know I should have made up my mind by now and people keep to me it would be best for me if I left St Alma’s and started somewhere else miles away. What do you advise, Mr Trent?’
He took so long to reply that she thought perhaps he hadn’t heard her. ‘Give the matter a little more thought,’ he said at length. ‘Perhaps after Christmas? Meanwhile go ahead and choose the pieces you wish to keep, enquire about a new post if you wish to do so, but make no final decision. That is my advice, Clotilde, if you care to take it.’
‘Oh, I will, Mr Trent and thank you.’ She got up to go. ‘I’ll come and see you again, shall I? when I’ve decided.’
James had missed two rounds by now and she hadn’t been able to pluck up the courage to ask Jeff where he was. She hoped that the hospital had understood that his friendliness towards her had been because she had needed help rather badly, but now she was able to cope once more, and any interest she might show in him might start rumours; she didn’t think they would be unkind, because as far as she knew she hadn’t any enemies at St Alma’s, but once the grapevine got going, however silly the tale, it was hard to squash.
She conducted the round with Jeff in exactly the same manner as if it were Dr Thackery, taking care to be ready for him, escorting him to the door, making sure that everything went without a hitch. Round day came again once more and she spent the first hour or so after breakfast preparing for it. Everything was in readiness and she went to her office. There were ten minutes or so left; she could start some paperwork. Only she didn’t. She sat at her desk, staring out of the window at the grey morning, feeling empty of all feeling. She frowned; she must snap out of it. Still frowning, she looked over her shoulder as the door opened and James Thackery walked in.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CLOTILDE DIDN’T FEEL empty any more; the world was suddenly a magic place, the morning was no longer grey. Only by the strongest effort of will did she stop herself from hurling herself at James, something which took so much of her powers that she had nothing to say at all.
‘You look cross,’ observed James, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it.
Clotilde took a grip on herself. ‘No, oh no—just surprised.’ It vexed her that her voice came out in a shaky squeak. She drew a deep breath and tried again with more success. ‘You’ll be doing the round, sir?’
‘Correct, Sister Collins.’ He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. ‘Pleased to see me?’ he wanted to know. ‘And missed me?’
She had no intention of allowing her feelings to show. ‘We are always glad to see you, sir,’ she said sedately, ‘and naturally you’ve been missed.’
She felt her cheeks grow warm under his amused look and wished him, without meaning it in the least, at the other side of the world—or at least far enough away for her to pull herself together. That wish at least was more or less granted.
‘I’m going to Men’s Medical first this morning,’ he told her. ‘I’ll see you later.’
He had gone, closing the door silently behind him, and Clotilde sat staring at it, waiting for her heart to stop pounding and her thoughts to become coherent once more. A fine kettle of fish, she muttered savagely. What had happened to the cool, friendly relationship she had enjoyed with the doctor? Gone—and in no way could she see it returning. Falling in love with him had been the last thing she had expected to do—indeed, she had never entertained the idea, and here she was now, head over heels and in a fair way to making a fool of herself. But at least it would settle one question for her; to leave St Alma’s as soon as she decently could. She sat back in her chair for a moment, allowing herself the luxury of thinking about James, pretending, for a few crazy seconds, that he had fallen in love with her too. And that’s nonsense, she reminded herself, he’s already in love with this mysterious girl, and could she be Mary Evans? Well, she would perhaps get a clue or two on the round.
She got up and went to inspect her face in the small mirror on the wall. She looked exactly the same as usual, which surprised her, although it was a relief too. With a great effort she put the last astonishing few minutes out of her head, and went into the ward.
It would be the best part of an hour before Dr Thackery would arrive. She sent two nurses to their coffee, told the other two to go when the other pair returned, and swept Sally back into the office.
‘Let’s have a quick cup before they get here,’ she suggested. ‘It’s going to make dinners awfully late. Still, we’re all on, aren’t we? Two can tidy up and four of us can get the dinners served. Someone’s off for a half day… You’d better all go to second dinner and I’ll have something here.’
‘Yes, Sister.’ Sally poured the coffee and said hesitantly: ‘You’re feeling all right, Sister? You look flushed…are you starting a cold?’
‘I feel fine, thanks.’
‘Was Dr Thackery in a good mood? It’s not like him to come here second. Did he say why?’
‘No, I didn’t ask him.’ She had been dumb, swept away on a tide of suddenly discovered love. ‘When do you want your days off next week? I don’t mind in the least when I have mine— I shall be going home.’ She told Sally about Rosie staying on as housekeeper. ‘And you’ve no idea what a relief that is. How about applying for this job when I go, Sally?’
‘You’re not going— Sister, why? Must you? I mean, you’ve got lots of friends here and the patients dote on you, and Dr Thackery and you get on so well together.’
Clotilde let that pass. ‘I must make a change, Sally—start again somewhere. The last month or so hasn’t been too easy.’ She smiled at Sally. ‘But don’t tell anyone yet, will you? You know what the grapevine’s like.’ She looked at her watch and jumped to her feet. ‘We’d better get
moving. Tell two of the nurses to keep close behind us as we go round and straighten the beds and so on. See that they understand that they must go about it stealthily. It’ll save time once the round’s over. They’ll have had coffee over on the other side, though I suppose I’ll have to offer it.’
The patients were restless. Round days were the bright spots in their week and they were being deprived of their small excitements. Clotilde went from one bed to the other, assuring the occupants that any minute now it would start, and to add weight to her words, went down the ward looking as cool and contained as she always did. She managed to stay that way, too, as the doors opened and Dr Thackery walked in. He wished her a grave good morning, just as though he hadn’t already seen her not two hours since, hoped she would forgive him for being so late, and started his round, so exactly as he always was that she found herself behaving in her usual calm way, answering his questions readily, passing various forms when he asked for them, listening carefully to his instructions. She felt as though she were acting a part, while at the same time she was outside herself, watching herself perform. And over and above that she watched Mary Evans, sporting a new hairstyle today and her white coat open over a too tight sweater which did nothing to camouflage the padded bra. She looked happy and excited, only taking her eyes off James’s face when she had to. And when Clotilde offered coffee at the end of the round and the doctor refused, she gave Clotilde a triumphant look as they started off down the ward again, asking him questions about the patients which he courteously answered, pausing only long enough to bid Clotilde a mild, ‘Good morning, Sister.’
Clotilde stood at the door as she always did. She looked capable and assured and serene, although the serenity went abruptly enough when she glanced out of the window a few minutes later and saw James and Mary Evans sauntering along together deep in conversation. Of course they might have been discussing a patient… She turned her back and went into the ward to serve the puddings.
Perhaps it was a good thing, she decided later, that she had so much to do that there was precious little time to think about anything else but her work. There were quite a few ill women on the ward who needed careful watching and two diabetics who weren’t stabilised yet. Clotilde gobbled a sandwich and drained a pot of tea at her desk, then went back on to the ward. Mrs Jeeves, who had been admitted with chest pains the day before, was looking poorly; she had been meticulously examined that morning and James had changed the treatment Dr Evans had ordered the previous evening; he had put her on half-hourly observations too and had given his opinion that the lady was cooking up something and that he was to be warned of any change.
Clotilde, coming away from the bed, met Sally, back from her dinner.
‘Come into the office,’ she suggested. ‘We’ll go over Dr Thackery’s instructions about Mrs Jeeves. I’m not too happy about her—get someone right away if you’re worried.’
She went off duty presently. She almost never took an afternoon off, but she wanted to get something for Rosie and there wouldn’t be a chance to shop before she went home during the following week. Rosie needed a new, warm dressing gown, her old one was thin and shabby and a dreary grey, and Christmas was near enough for Clotilde to give it to her on her next visit. She took a slow-moving bus up Oxford Street and found what she wanted in Marks and Spencer’s—bright red, cosily soft and thick. She bought red slippers to match too, and well satisfied with her purchases, made the tiresome journey back to St Alma’s. There was just time for tea before she went back on duty.
Everyone was all right, Sally reported. The ill patients had had their various treatments and their conditions were unchanged and the diabetics, for a wonder, weren’t loaded with sugar. ‘I did a test half an hour ago and they were okay. Mrs. Jeeves is about the same…’ She sounded doubtful and Clotilde said understandingly:
‘I know—you can’t put your finger on it, can you? Something’s not right.’ She looked at the duty list. ‘Who’ve I got on? Roberts and Symes… Night Staff Nurse has nights off, hasn’t she? I wonder who’s relieving her?’
Sally said cautiously: ‘Well, Dawes is doing relief,’ and grinned sympathetically. Staff Nurse Dawes was as pretty as a picture, with baby blue eyes and a cultivated lisp. She was sweet to her patients but was quite incapable of coping with any crisis which might arise. The junior housemen and the students adored her and the Ward Sisters tried every trick under the sun to avoid having her on their particular ward.
Clotilde sighed. ‘Oh well,’ she observed philosophically, ‘we haven’t had her for weeks, I suppose we mustn’t grumble. Only I wish Mrs Jeeves wasn’t such an unknown quantity.’
The evening’s work went forward at a brisk pace. Clotilde went to her supper, came back and sent the nurses to theirs and took her report to finish by Mrs Jeeves’s bed. She was sleeping lightly, but she was restless and her pulse was rising slowly. Clotilde finished the report and made up her mind to stay for a while after she had given the report; it would give the night nurses time to settle the patients down and when the ward was quiet, one of them could sit near Mrs Jeeves.
Staff Nurse Dawes appeared to be listening carefully to everything Clotilde read out to her. They did a round together, checking the ill patients and going last of all to Mrs Jeeves. As they went down the ward Clotilde said: ‘I’ve the off-duty to make out, Staff. I’ll sit by Mrs Jeeves while you and Nurse get the ward tucked up for the night.’
Mrs Jeeves was awake when she returned to the bed. She looked anxious, and when Clotilde took her hand it was coldly clammy; she took a brief look at the cyanosed face on the pillow, smiled reassuringly, twitched the curtain behind her to give partial concealment and turned on the oxygen. ‘You’ll feel better when you’ve had some more air,’ she said quietly. ‘Try not to worry.’ She called softly over her shoulder: ‘Staff Nurse, will you come here?’
Staff Nurse Dawes’s charming face appeared round the edge of the curtain; she gazed at Clotilde and then at Mrs Jeeves. She looked like a scared child. ‘Draw the curtains,’ said Clotilde briskly, ‘then ring the Registrar and see if you can get him. Dr Evans will do if you can’t get him, and please be quick about it.’
Staff Nurse Dawes hesitated maddeningly: ‘Suppose they’re not there? What shall I do? Shall I get Night Sister?’ Her eyes slid to Mrs Jeeves, lying so still, struggling to breathe. ‘Shall I send Nurse here, Sister?’
‘Get me a doctor, Staff, and fast!’
Staff Nurse Dawes gulped and then gave a scared squeal as she was put on one side and James took her place. His eyes flickered over Clotilde before he bent over his patient. ‘How long?’ he asked.
‘About three minutes ago; sudden onset with breathlessness and sweating. Mrs Jeeves has been sleeping on and off all the evening but restless at times. Her pulse has been going up very slightly.’
‘Let’s get the blood gases. Nurse has gone to phone, presumably. New, is she?’
‘No, relief staff nurse.’ Clotilde was checking her patient’s pulse.
‘On night duty, are you?’
‘No, I stayed because I wasn’t too happy.’
‘Good girl.’ He bent his long back and said in a kind voice: ‘You’re going to feel better very soon, Mrs Jeeves. I’m going to give you an injection and we shall stay with you until it works.’ He straightened up and said softly: ‘Where the hell’s that nurse? I’m going to give streptokinase. Have you any on the ward?’
‘Yes, but only five hundred thousand units—you’ll need more…’
‘Get someone to go to the dispensary. Where’s Night Sister?’
‘On her first round— Children’s Medical about now.’ Clotilde broke off as Staff Nurse Dawes’s face peered cautiously round the doctor’s vast form.
‘Dr Evans is coming, Sister.’
Clotilde nodded. ‘Good. Staff, stay here with Dr Thackery while I get something from the DDA cupboard. Can I have the keys?’ She waited until Staff Nurse Dawes had taken her place. ‘I’ll get Night Sister at the
same time.’ She heard the hurrying feet and added: ‘Here’s Dr Evans.’
‘What’s all this?’ demanded Dr Evans. ‘I’ve been here twice this evening, can’t you…?’ She came round the curtains and saw Dr Thackery. Clotilde would dearly have loved to have waited to see what would happen next, but she slid away. She phoned Night Sister first, fetched the drug and everything necessary for its giving and went silently back to take over from Staff Nurse Dawes. The anticoagulant needed to be given over a half hour of time, a long time for someone fighting for their breath as Mrs Jeeves was going to fight for hers. Clotilde prayed that she would hold out so that the massive pulmonary embolism might dissolve, if not pulmonary embolectomy might be undertaken as a last hope.
Dr Evans was taking blood to estimate the gases, for once subdued in her manner. Clotilde heard a faint rustle and an even fainter footfall and heard with relief Night Sister’s whisper behind her. They were good friends, she and Jo Wills, and Jo wasn’t a girl who needed all the I’s dotted and T’s crossed.
‘We’ll need the Path Lab opened up—can you get whoever’s on call? And enough streptokinase to take us round to the morning.’
She heard Jo’s barely audible, ‘okay,’ and then: ‘I’ll be back in five minutes, love.’
Which she was with an almost imperceptible nod to Clotilde, she then took Staff Nurse Dawes’s place by Dr Evans. And all this while James had been giving the anticoagulant, timed it exactly, sitting on the edge of Mrs Jeeves’ bed, totally relaxed, giving instructions from time to time in his placid voice. It seemed a very long time before he said quietly: ‘I think we’re winning,’ and indeed Mrs Jeeves was no worse; not much better either but holding her own; if she could hang on until the anticoagulant had a chance to do its work…
He spoke to Mary Evans, ‘Get that blood down to the Path Lab, they should be there by now, then I suggest that you do your late round; we can manage here for the moment,’ and when she had gone, reluctantly: ‘Tilly and I can cope between us, Jo, but will you come if we bleep? And is that blue-eyed girl capable of looking after this ward without yelping for help?’