Tender Nurse

by Hilda Nickson

  George had been called to the receiving ward where a case of severe heart failure had just been admitted. It was not until evening that the two men met again, when George looked in on Martin for a late drink and smoke before turning in.

  “Another full day tomorrow, I see,” George remarked, settling himself in an armchair in the living room of Martin’s flat.

  “Yes,” answered Martin quietly, “and I hope to goodness Sister is in a better mood. She’s very efficient in a cold sort of way, but the kind of atmosphere she creates isn’t good for the patients. She gets the staff all jumpy — or strained — according to their temperaments. There should be an atmosphere of peace and harmony before an operation.”

  “Pity she can’t be moved to another department,” said George.

  “I gather Matron seldom changes the Sisters around — at least not the ones with specialized experience like theatre work.”

  “She’s certainly got the job at her finger tips,” George murmured.

  “She even began ranting at Andrea this evening because the child had a lecture.”

  “Oh, that’s a common grouse with some of the Sisters. They grudge the nurses having lectures in their on-duty time.”

  “But she seems to be making a dead set at Andrea these days. She was fairly decent toward her when she first came into theatre. I just can’t understand it,” Martin said worridely.

  “Can’t you?” George asked pointedly.

  Martin shot him a quick glance. “Why — can you?”

  “Jealousy,” said George briefly.

  “Jealousy?” echoed Martin. “Of whom, for heaven’s sake.”

  George eyed his friend pityingly. “Of course, I suppose a lot of the hospital gossip goes over your head. I’m not such a big shot as you, so I hear more of it.”

  “What in the world are you blabbering about?”

  George shuffled deeper into his chair. “Julia is jealous of Andrea on your account.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Martin said uncomfortably.

  “Is it? You took Julia out once or twice, didn’t you?”

  “Well, good heavens, one has to take a woman out sometimes. The Sisters on the male side are mostly engaged, as for the others—well, Sister Brown is fifty if she’s a day.”

  “Is that why you took Andrea out — because you ‘had to take a woman out sometimes’?”

  Martin reddened. “No. Anyway, hang it all, that evening out was sheer accident. It would have been a foursome if Virginia’s mother hadn’t taken ill. Besides, there’s this fellow Godfrey.”

  George thought the last remark, though irrelevant, showed how Martin’s mind was working.

  He got up. “I’ll turn in. Got a busy day tomorrow.”

  The two men said good night, and George went along to his own quarters. Martin was a stubborn, impenetrable fellow at times. What were his feelings toward Andrea? Was she just “a woman to take out sometimes,” or was he really falling for her? He certainly seemed concerned about the way Julia was treating her. Perhaps Martin wasn’t clear about his own feelings. Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure of his own. Virginia was a grand girl and her people were fine, but — he got into bed, switched off his thoughts with the light and was soon asleep.

  Andrea’s free day for this week was Saturday. So also was Julia Fisher’s. She had deliberately arranged it that way. She wanted to make quite sure that on duty, at any rate, Andrea would have no opportunity whatever of being alone with Martin. During the whole of the busy week from Monday to Friday, she concentrated the full battery of her attack on Andrea. Wherever the Nurse went, whether in the anaesthetic room, the sterilizing room or the operating theatre itself, the cold blue eyes focussed upon her and the Sister lashed out with the venom of her tongue. Mercilessly, she took full advantage of the fact that hospital etiquette — which Andrea had, by now, learned to accept — made retaliation impossible.

  Coupled with this treatment of Sister’s was the feeling that she had completely lost touch with Martin. Never once was she able to as much as catch his eye. When he walked past her he seemed not to notice her. During the operations he concentrated fully on his work, speaking only to his assistants and to Sister. When he was scrubbing up Andrea was busy in the anaesthetic room. Vaguely she wondered if she had upset him in any way. It wasn’t possible that he was being influenced against her by Sister Fisher’s attitude. He knew surely that she was not the clumsy, inefficient, slacker that her superior’s continual rebukes implied.

  Anxiously she looked to George for some clue to what was wrong but even he seemed unusually quiet, almost to the point of absent-mindedness. The week passed for Andrea like a nightmare. Consequently, the prospect of a whole free day spent with Godfrey seemed like a heavenly awakening.

  At ten thirty he was waiting outside the hospital gates in his car. He opened the door for her.

  “Hello, sweetheart, it’s good to see you,” he said warmly. “And how lovely you look.”

  She was wearing a pale yellow cotton dress with vivid splashes of color in an unusual design and swirling, full skirt.

  “It’s good to see you too, darling,” she returned with unusual fervor. “I’ve never been so thankful to see the back of that place for a while.”

  He looked at her more closely. “You do look a bit tired. Have you had a busy week?” he asked anxiously.

  She sank back in her seat. “Busy isn’t the word for it. I’ve been able to do nothing right.”

  He was immediately full of concern for her and so distressed at the very suggestion of her being anything but happy, that Andrea was sorry she had given vent to her feelings so frankly. She gave a light laugh and laid a hand on his arm.

  “Don’t let it worry you, darling. There are bound to be bad patches, everybody has them. Let’s enjoy ourselves. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  Relief showed in his eyes. “You’re wonderful, darling.” He started up the car. “First of all, where would you like to have lunch?”

  “That depends,” she said teasingly.

  “On what?”

  “On where we’re going to spend the day.”

  “I’ve got tickets for a show at the Theatre Royal — but perhaps you’d like to get away from Cliftonville for a change?”

  “Oh — actually, darling, I’m not sure what I want. I’d like to fly over hill and dale — stand on a mountain top — walk beside peaceful water.”

  He smiled fondly. “That sounds like a tall order, but I know what you mean.”

  “Do you?”

  “ ‘He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul’.” he quoted softly.

  He sensed that she was restless, that she wanted to escape for a while. Sensitive to her every mood, he wondered if anything special had happened to cause the change since he had last seen her. She had been happy then and absolutely in love with her job.

  “I know the very place,” he said, steering the car at right angles to the Cliftonville road.

  “Oh, where, Godfrey?” she asked, her eyes lighting up.

  “Windermere.”

  “Windermere! The Lakes! How lovely, Godfrey. What a wonderful idea. But what about the theatre tickets?”

  “Oh, we’ll be back in plenty of time. We can be there for lunch if we go non-stop. Can you get along without coffee?”

  “Of course. I’ve got some fruit in my bag. We can nibble as we go along.”

  When they were clear of the main throroughfare, Godfrey asked: “How is Virginia’s mother?”

  “Much better. Virginia went home again on Wednesday after I’d rung you — and her mother is being sent home today.”

  “Good. I’m very pleased to hear it. I only wish I had been on hand to be of some assistance. I suppose Dr. Howard has a super car — not like my old erode.’ ‘

  “It is a bit newer than yours, but it’s not all that luxurious.”

  “A bit more reliable than mine though, I should imagine. As a matter of fact, darling, I’m thinking
of getting another.”

  “Are you? How lovely! But can you afford a new car?”

  “Well I’ve managed to save a little, and what I get for this will help toward another. It won’t be a brand new model, of course. Actually this old faithful has been giving me qite a bit of trouble lately and I want to be able to take you out without fear of breakdowns.”

  “You’re not expecting any trouble today are you?” Andrea asked rather anxiously.

  He smiled reassuringly. “No, sweetheart. I’ve made sure of that — I hope.”

  They were entering the congested streets of Lancaster now, busy with market and north-bound traffic. Godfrey fell silent and concentrated on his driving. Half an hour later, they were driving along The Princes’ Way, the way along which Bonnie Prince Charlie had hastened in his retreat to Scotland.

  “Enjoying the run, darling?” asked Godfrey.

  She turned to smile at him. “Oh, yes. I’m feeling better already.”

  “Well, in about ten minutes time, we’ll be within sight of Lake Windermere,” he told her.

  The day was warm and sunny with a clear, vivid blue sky and just sufficient breeze to make a perfect English summer day. Suddenly, Andrea gave an exclamation.

  “Ah, there’s the lake, Godfrey, just between the trees. Now it’s gone — there it is again. Can you see it, darling?”

  Godfrey took a swift look. “A little further along there’s a break in the trees and space to park. We’ll stop and have a proper look, then we must find some lunch.”

  Andrea’s spirits rose. It was quite a long time since she had been to the lakes, but no matter how often she came, it always seemed new to her. Presently, Godfrey stopped the car on a grassy patch of land. There, shimmering in the sun was the great lake, its placid blue surface broken only by the vivid white of a sailing yacht as it cut an arrow-shaped wake across the water. Beyond rose wooded hills, losing themselves against a seemingly endless background of majestic mountains.

  Andrea drew in an ecstatic breath, her gaze wandering all around in sheer delight, her eyes sparkling with pure enjoyment.

  “Godfrey, what a wonderful idea of yours to come here. This is perfect.”

  The summer breeze ruffled her dark hair and gently billowed her cotton dress. Godfrey gazed at her adoringly and sought her hand. He was mad about her. If only he could bring her to love him so ardently that she would want nothing more than to marry him at once. He put an arm round her waist and drew her to his side.

  “I wish we could do this more often, my darling.”

  She pressed his hand. “We will, one day, I’m sure.”

  He sighed. One day. How content she was to wait for that day, but he — the years stretched ahead interminably.

  They drove into Windermere for lunch and afterwards found a wooded slope overlooking the lake. There they meandered for a while, then lay on the soft bracken gazing up through the trees to the blue canvas high above, idly tracing a leafy pattern and listening to the song of the birds, the drowsy humming of the bees and the chirping of the many insects. Godfrey bent over her and kissed her lips. They were soft and sweet and he was hungry for the touch of them, yet he kissed her softly and gently. Her hand came up to caress his cheek.

  “I love you,” he said simply.

  She smiled and he kissed her again, ardently now.

  Startled, she sat up. Then with a light laugh, she kissed his cheek.

  “Hadn’t we better be starting back, or we’ll be late for the theatre?”

  “We’ve plenty of time.” His arms stole around her. She made a movement and began to get to her feet.

  “Please, Godfrey, don’t make too much love to me.”

  Suddenly, for some reason that she could not fathom, she wanted to cry. It was as if all the battles and hurts and disappointments of the past week were going to culminate in one great flood or weeping.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Godfrey was immediately contrite. “I’m a clumsy idiot. Let’s set off back shall we? We’ll go via Kendal. The road is wild and hilly — you’ll find it invigorating.”

  She smiled again and gave him her hand to help her to her feet. “Yes, darling. That sounds wonderful.”

  They arrived in Cliftonville with time enough to spare for a late tea at their favourite restaurant.

  “Have you really enjoyed the day, Andrea? Godfrey asked. “Has it filled the bill — mountain tops and all?”

  “Oh yes. Just what I needed. Thank you, my dear, very much indeed.”

  “Well, I hope the show rounds off your day. It’s just common or garden variety, but I hear it’s uproariously funny in places.”

  “Good. I don’t feel like anything serious.”

  The theatre was full to capacity, a gay responsive audience, ready to be thoroughly amused. Andrea’s eyes went instinctively to the box where she had sat with Martin and the others for the performance of “Iolanthe.”

  She gave a start of surprise. Sister Fisher was sitting there, looking cool and poised in filmy summer dress. She was turning a dazzling smile toward her companion who was half hidden from view by the curtains of the box. Andrea wondered whether it was the naval officer in whose company she had been that night at the Hutt. But this man was not in uniform.

  The show began and Andrea’s attention was turned to the stage. It was indeed a very good, fast-moving show with plenty of laughs, the curtain coming down for the interval on a pair of riotously funny acrobats.

  “Let’s go and have coffee in the lounge,” Godfrey suggested.

  The lounge was crowded, so that by the time they had reached the serving counter and got their coffee, the interval was almost over. They finished their drink, however, just as the curtain bell sounded. They turned to go back to their seats, edging their way through the tightly packed throng and were almost at the door when they came face to face with Julia Fisher and her companion. It was Martin.

  Chapter Ten

  UNBELIEVINGLY, Andrea looked from one to the other. Martin’s face was expressionless, his eyes cool. The two men murmured a polite “good evening.” Julia, a thin smile on her red lips, glanced pointedly at Godfrey as she said: “Good evening, Nurse.”

  Bracing herself, Andrea made a hurried introduction, and after a few polite remarks about the show, they parted and made their way back to their respective seats.

  Andrea was thankful that Godfrey made no comment on the meeting. Somehow, she sat through the rest of the performance. Over a light supper and during the drive back to the hospital she even managed to make some kind of conversation. To Godfrey, her voice sounded tired. He looked at her anxiously.

  “I hope today hasn’t been too much for you, darling. You look rather pale.”

  She smiled. “Of course it hasn’t been too much,” she said reassuringly. “It’s been a lovely day and thank you, my dear.”

  He kissed her good night lovingly and she went wearily to her room. Why did it upset her so much seeing Martin and Sister Fisher together? Had she really expected that because — almost by chance — he had taken her out to dinner, he would not take another woman out, that his friendship was hers exclusively? She argued with herself that it was the cold, impersonal way he had looked at her that had hurt. It was as if they had been almost strangers, as if the wonderful understanding that had grown between them had never existed. Had she merely dreamed that enchanting night at the theatre; was the unforgettable evening when he had taken her out for a meal, a mere figment of her imagination? Miserably, she got into bed and lay staring at the ceiling. It was obvious that he had regretted being so friendly with her — or had she read too much in the things he had said to her? Had he sensed that and decided to show her that he had no intention of allowing their friendship to develop, or even continue? She asked herself why his friendship and his attitude should mean so much to her. What was she worrying about? Did she not owe a loyalty to Godfrey, anyway, even though they were not engaged. Had she expected even wanted — her friendship with Martin Graham to
develop? For no relationship between a man and a woman ever stood still, she knew that. It must either grow and develop or fade and die.

  She stretched out her hand and put out the light. She could not trust herself to go on thinking. She hoped that if Virginia came along the corridor and saw her room in darkness, she would think that she was asleep. If Virginia came in, she would know at once that she was troubled and she did not want to talk tonight. Resolutely, she set herself to go to sleep, deliberately turning her thoughts elsewhere. To Godfrey, to their day out, the beauty of the lakes. But all at once she was aware of tears trickling down her cheeks. With a sob of bewilderment she buried her face in her pillow.

  It was late when she awoke the next morning. When Virginia knocked on her door, she was still only half dressed.

  “You’d better go on without me, Gini,” she said. “There’s no point in our both being late."

  “Oh, I’ll wait. It’s Sunday. Night Sister won’t be there. It will be staff Nurse Carter and she doesn’t come into the dining room until the last minute, just in time to call the roll."

  Andrea finished dressing hurriedly. “We’re off this morning anyhow. Are you doing anything special?"

  “No — only odd jobs. Darning and so on."

  “What about coming to the flat? You could bring your darning and ‘so on’ with you."

  She snatched up her cloak and cuffs and they hurried along to the dining room, Andrea pulling on her cuffs as they went.

  “That’s a lovely idea," Virginia said. “I hate Sunday mornings in the ‘Home.’ By the way, you were asleep early last night, weren’t you? But I don’t know that it’s done you much good. You look washed out."

  “Do I?" Andrea answered dully.

  Virginia looked at her keenly. “What did you do yesterday ?"