Tender Nurse

by Hilda Nickson

  “I’d almost forgotten how lovely spring could be,” breathed Andrea.

  “It’s because of the winter in between, I suppose,” said Godfrey. “If it were not for Autumn and Winter, we wouldn’t appreciate Spring and Summer.”

  “I suppose not. Isn’t it strange that though Spring comes year after year in the same fashion, it always seems new and wonderful.”

  “As if it is happening for the first time—like being in love,” Godfrey answered pensively.

  Andrea was silent. Clearly Godfrey was in love. But she herself—was she in love? Was there the wonder and beauty of Spring in her feeling for him?

  She felt his arm tighten about her shoulders. “Andrea,” he whispered. I love you so, my darling. Won’t you at least become engaged to me? Then I shall feel that you belong to me by promise.”

  Andrea did not reply for a moment. There was a part of her that wanted to say “Yes.” She just could not imagine her life without Godfrey. Yet somehow she found herself unable to form the word.

  “Darling,” she said at last. “I’m very, very fond of you, you know that. But I feel so unsure of myself. Somehow, I don’t feel than I can become engaged until I’ve given at least a year, maybe two, to nursing. Please, Godfrey, don’t ask me again just yet, There won’t be anyone else, I can promise you that.”

  He gave a wry smile. “All right. You win, I suppose.”

  She looked at him and fondled his cheek.

  “You’re a dear, and I do love you,” she said impulsively.

  He bent and kissed her gently on the lips.

  “I’ll wait, my darling,” he said gently. “Only don’t make it too long.”

  As darkness began to fall, the wood became gloomy and they retraced their steps.

  Godfrey again had difficulty in starting the car.

  “Is anything wrong?” asked Andrea.

  “I don’t know. She was all right yesterday. Maybe it’s just the contact points that need cleaning. I’ll do them tomorrow evening, unless you’re free, that is.”

  After one or two more attempts the engine started and they continued on their way.

  It was a pleasant evening. After a short walk along the brightly lighted promenade, the salt sea breeze whipping their faces, they had supper at a little cafe before setting off back into the hospital.

  The woods were quieter now, the song of the birds had ceased, and the trees in the lights of the car looked eerie. Then suddenly the engine spluttered and the car came to a stop.

  “Damn!” muttered Godfrey. “That certainly doesn’t sound like contact points.”

  “What then?” Andrea asked rather anxiously.

  They had only allowed a bare half hour in which to get back to the hospital and she didn’t want to be late on her first day.

  Godfrey looked at her. “I’m sorry to say that it sounded more like the petrol pump.”

  “Oh, dear. Will it take long?”

  “Round about an hour, I’m afraid.”

  “An hour!”

  “I’m sorry, Andrea. Will it matter very much if you’re late?”

  “Well, we are supposed to be in by ten o’clock while we’re training. It’s because we’re up so early in the morning, I suppose. If only there was a telephone I could ring up and explain, but there isn’t a call box along this road, I know.”

  “The only thing for you to do is go back by bus. I’m terribly sorry, Andrea. Anyway, I’ll get out and take a look.”

  “I’ll come and hold the torch for you,” Andrea offered and together they got out of the car. Godfrey lifted up the hood of the engine while Andrea held the light.

  The powerful head lights of an oncoming car lit up the country road, and Godfrey straightened up to wave on the driver, while Andrea averted her head from the dazzle of the lights as the car drove past.

  A few yards further on, however, the car stopped and the driver got out and walked towards them.

  “Is anything wrong? Can I help you?” he called out.

  Andrea’s heart gave a sudden bound as she recognized the voice. It was Mr. Graham.

  “Well! Nurse Grey, isn’t it?” he said as he drew near enough to recognize her.

  Andrea made a hurried introduction.

  “What seems to be the trouble?” he asked Godfrey. “Will you be able to fix it?”

  “I will, yes,” Godfrey answered. “But I’m afraid it will take a little time, and Andrea, er, Nurse Grey, will be late. We were just wondering if she could get a bus.”

  As he spoke a bus shot passed them.

  “Goodness!” cried Andrea. “That means it will be half an hour before another one comes along.”

  Martin Graham smiled slightly. “Such anxiety to get back to the hospital on time would warm Matron’s heart——”

  “I prefer to be in on time!” Andrea retorted hotly.

  “Well, there’s no need for you to worry in either case. I’m going back there myself and will gladly give you a lift. That is, if you can trust yourself in my hands,” he added mockingly.

  “I’d really rather not impose myself upon you, Mr. Graham,” she answered quickly, stung by his tone.

  “Andrea,” Godfrey put in, “I’d feel much happier if you would accept the doctor’s offer.”

  Again the mocking voice came. “I can assure Nurse Grey that she will be perfectly safe with me.”

  To Andrea his words implied that she was neither attractive enough, nor sufficiently interesting for him to dream of trying to flirt with her. She bristled.

  “That remark was quite unnecessary,” she said sharply.

  “Andrea!” exclaimed Godfrey.

  He could not imagine what had come over her. She was not usually so touchy, or so rude.

  There was a moment’s silence. Andrea felt that nothing on earth would now induce her to accept his offer of a lift. Then slowly she realized that she was creating something of a scene and that even if she caught the next bus she would still be terribly late.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking from one man to the other. “I shall be very glad of a lift back to the hospital, thank you, Mr. Graham.”

  Godfrey looked relieved. Martin, with a slight inclination of the head, led the way to his car.

  Andrea said good night to Godfrey, and Martin, after expressing the hope that the little car would soon be going again, started up his own black saloon.

  With her gaze fixed determinedly straight ahead, Andrea remained silent. She would show him that here, at any rate, was one nurse who did not find him irresistible. But in spite of her determination, she felt her heart quicken its tempo as he gave her a sidelong glance.

  Suddenly he laughed. “My dear girl, there’s no need to sit there looking so grim. I’m not likely to run out of petrol or anything as old-fashioned as that.”

  “Really?” she answered coolly. “I can assure you, Mr. Graham, that if—as you put it—I look grim, it is merely because I just do not wish to talk.”

  He gave her a quick look.

  “Perhaps I should have said ‘prim’—not grim——”

  She flushed angrily in the darkness of the car.

  “If you will set me down at the first bus stop, Mr. Graham, I will finish the journey by bus.”

  He looked at her sharply and to her surprise drew up to the curb and stopped the car. She had not really expected him to take her so completely at her word. She reached out her hand to open the door but he shot out his arm and restrained her. Then taking hold of her by the shoulders, he turned her round to face him.

  “You know, Nurse, I find you just a shade too good to be true,” he said coolly. He pulled her suddenly towards him and brought his lips down upon hers in a hard, com-manding kiss.

  She struggled angrily, her heart pounding. Then abruptly he let her go. For a moment they stared at each other in silence. Andrea, a bright spot on either cheek and her lips tingling from his kiss, heard the taunting words echoing in her ears.

  “I find
you just a shade too good to be true.”

  She reached out her hand once more to open the car door and make her escape. She felt that to stay in the car another moment would suffocate her.

  “You needn’t worry,” he said abruptly as she fumbled with the door. “I’m not likely to do that again.”

  With a press of the self-starter, he set the car in motion again and quickly gathered speed.

  The beating of her heart subsided and for the rest of the journey neither spoke. Vaguely, Andrea sensed a change in his attitude. Then the hospital loomed in sight and as the strong headlights of the car pierced the tall, iron gates, the lodge porter ran out to open them. Recognizing the surgeon’s car, the man raised his hand in acknowledgment and would have failed to see the passenger, but Martin, having a regard for the rules inspite of the impression he may have given, pulled down the window of the car.

  “I have Nurse Grey here.”

  Andrea gave him a quick glance. Surely he would add: “I gave her a lift.” But he didn’t, and the porter, with barely a change of feature, repeated: “Nurse Grey, right, sir.”

  The huge car continued up the long drive and a few yards from the Nurses’ Home, he opened the door for her.

  “Well, here you are. I’m sorry for what happened.” Then added abruptly: “Good night. Go and get your beauty sleep or you’ll be late on duty in the morning.”

  Vaguely irritated by his summary dismissal, Andrea muttered a curt good night. Her mind a confusion of emotions, she went to her room. What kind of a man was he, this Mr. Graham? Was he—off duty—at any rate, an outrageous flirt, or was he a cynic about women in general and nurses in particular?

  Chapter Three

  BREAKFAST at the Dorchester Royal Hospital was a formal affair. The nurses sat strictly according to seniority, while one of the night Sisters presided at the serving table. Andrea sat at the very bottom of a long table of very junior and first year nurses. About half way up the table sat a rather pale, dark-haired nurse with a somewhat remote expression. Andrea caught her eye once or twice and the girl gave her a slow smile.

  Suddenly, above the babble of conversation, came Rita Wainwright’s voice.

  “Say, girls! I hear Martin brought someone up the drive in his car last night.”

  Startled, Andrea set down her cup.

  “You don’t say,” someone answered. “Come on, Rita, tell us more. Who was she?”

  “I didn’t say it was a ‘she,’ “ said Rita, enjoying being the first to impart such a tasty bit of information.

  “Stop fooling, Rita. You wouldn’t have mentioned it if he’d brought a man up. So come on, out with it.”

  “Perhaps it was one of the Sisters,” remarked the dark girl absently.

  “You’re wrong, Slater. Wilkins wouldn’t have bothered to tell me if it had been one of the Sisters.”

  “Wilkins is a gossiping old woman.”

  Rita looked down the table. “You can say what you like, Slater, but someone has been doing some pretty fast work. How’d you manage it, Grey?” she called suddenly. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  Andrea’s colour deepened as a dozen pair of envious eyes focussed on her. She was thankful that at the moment the bell was rung for silence.

  The Sister’s glance swept over the hundred or so nurses. When she spoke, her thin lips barely moved. First, she called the roll. Then she issued a solemn warning to any nurse who opened a fire escape door for others coming in late.

  Finally she announced: “Matron has ordered these changes. Nurse Simmonds to go to Monks ward; Nurse Wood to Theatre; Nurse Slater to Pasteur. That will be all.”

  Instantly conversation broke out again as the nurses, in order of seniority, filed out of the huge dining room.

  “Where did he take you, Grey?”

  “Did he make another date?”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Not so lucky if Sister Fisher hears about it.”

  “Who is Sister Fisher?” Andrea asked one of them hurriedly, ignoring the other questions.

  “Fisher? She’s Theatre Sister, and absolutely crazy about Martin, but he just looks on her as part of the fittings. She gets furious if he’s so much as civil to one of the nurses.”

  By this time, they were in the long corridor going their separate ways. Virginia Slater hung back and waited for Andrea to catch up with her.

  “I’m on your ward this morning, Grey, so we’ll walk along together. The others are way off ahead of us.”

  “Thank you. This is only my second day here.”

  “Yes, I know. It’s terribly strange at first, but you’ll soon settle down.”

  Andrea was thankful that this nurse at least didn’t start asking ridiculous questions about her lift home in the surgeon’s car.

  “How long have you been here?” she asked Virginia. “About six months.”

  “Oh. Then you won’t be in the same lecture group as I am, will you?”

  “No, ‘fraid not,” said the other with a smile. “I start in Physiology today.”

  “And I for more Anatomy.”

  They walked along in silence for a minute, then Virginia asked: “Are you busy on Pasteur?”

  “Fairly—as far as I can judge. There are no empty beds, I can tell you that. I didn’t know whether I was on my head or my heels yesterday.”

  Virginia laughed. “Many cases for theatre today? It was my day off yesterday, so I haven’t seen the list.” “Quite a few. One’s an operation on the ear—I can’t remember what it’s called.”

  “Mastoidectomy ?”

  Andrea smiled. “Yes, that’s it. Then there are two appendicectomies.” She brought the word out proudly, but diffidently. “And several hernias. A thyroidectomy and one or two more that I can’t remember.”

  “Hm. Not a bad list. Perhaps Sister will let you go down and see some of them.”

  “Down to the theatre?”

  Virginia’s eyes twinkled. “Yes. With someone with you, of course. You’ll see the great Mr. Graham at work.” Andrea’s cheeks coloured again. “You know, Nurse Slater, I didn’t go out with him yesterday evening. He gave me a lift when my—friend’s car broke down.”

  Virginia looked at her quizzically, then burst out laughing.

  Andrea gazed at her incredulously. “Surely you believe me?”

  “Oh yes. I believe you all right. But don’t expect anyone else to.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “You’ll find out. Here we are at Pasteur.”

  As soon as the two nurses entered the duty room Andrea was again beseiged with questions, even from the senior nurses, and as Virginia had prophesied, was treated to disbelieving looks when she tried to explain.

  By morning break it seemed to Andrea that the whole hospital was discussing her. She appeared to have reached notoriety overnight. She was someone to be envied and treated with respect. Nurses turned their heads to look at her. She heard them whispering about her and groups of nurses, talking, suddenly stopped when she drew near. In Andrea’s opinion, it was a lot of fuss about nothing it was a busy theatre morning on the ward, which left no time for gossip.

  After coffee, Sister Hawthorne, the ward sister, said to her, “Nurse Grey, you can be in theatre with me this morning. Watch Staff Nurse give the pre-medications, then take the first patient to the theatre. I will come down shortly afterwards. You’ll have Jones, the porter, with you, and Sister Fisher will tell you what to do until I come. You can stay there until lunch. “Keep your eyes and ears open, Nurse, and learn all you can while you have the chance.”

  Feeling rather nervous, Andrea gave out fruit drinks and glucose to the patients on her list. The first operation from this ward was not due until ten-thirty, so she comforted herself with the thought that, by then she would have pulled herself together.

  “I’m awfully scared,” she confessed to Virginia as they busied themselves in the sluice room. “Is it usual for anyone as new as I am to see operations?”

  “It’s a new id
ea of Mr. Graham’s and Sister is in full agreement. He wants all new nurses to see the operations as soon as possible.”

  “Breaking us in quickly, eh?”

  Virginia laughed. “That’s right.” Then more seriously: “But of course, there’s a little more to it than that. If a nurse actually sees what’s done at an operation, she’s less likely to do anything silly—like trying to lift a patient on her own who has had stitches in. There’s less strain on him if two lift.”

  “H’m. I see. And what is one expected to do while the operation is going on?”

  “Nothing very much except stay by the side of your patient and keep your eyes open. In the anaesthetic room, you’ll see some gowns and masks hanging up. Put one on, then just talk to your patient—reassure him and so forth until the anaesthetist comes to give the “spinal’.”

  “Do I have to help with that—the anaesthetic?”

  “No. One of the theatre nurses will. When the operation starts, you stay by the patient’s head in case he perspires or gets thirsty or feels any kind of discomfort—he shouldn’t feel any, you know, even though he is having an operation.”

  “But what if he does feel thirsty? Surely he can’t actually have a drink during the operation?”

  “No, but on the lower shelf of a trolly in the corner of the theatre you’ll see a feeder of water and a small layer of gauze held in the jaws of a forcep. Dip the forcep and gauze in the water and just moisten the patient’s lips with it. But of course, Sister Hawthorne will show you.”

  “Oh, I see. Thank you. You make it all sound tremendously interesting.”

  “It is,” smiled Virginia.

  “Nurse Slater,” Andrea said then, hesitantly.

  “Oh, just call me ‘Slater’ when we’re on duty—and Virginia off, if you like.”

  “Oh, thanks a lot. My Christian name is Andrea. I was going to ask—is Mr. Graham as strict and—and severe— and terrible as they say he is?”

  This was a question she had been wanting to ask above all others.

  “He can be,” Virginia answered. “So for heaven’s sake keep well out of his way. Don’t get within half a mile of his gown, or wander on the side of the table where the instruments are laid out—that is, the sterile side. And don’t touch the upper part of the sheet that’s covering the patient. If you want to feel his pulse or anything like that, you put your hand under the sheet.”