‘Well, Heston?’ Jamieson said again.
‘She’ll have to go, I suppose. A pity—pity. She is a good matron, you know—good. I wish this hadn’t happened. I only hope we can stop any gossip——’
‘And French?’
Heston looked warningly at Dolly.
‘Really, Jamieson, I don’t think we can discuss that now——’
‘Very well,’ Jamieson said easily. ‘Will you get in touch with Sir Peter, or shall I?’
‘Oh, I will, I will,’ Heston said irritably. ‘In the meantime, I suppose, I’d better see Miss Manton. Thank you, Sister East. We needn’t keep you any longer.’
When Dolly had gone, Jamieson sat on, watching Heston fuss over papers on his desk, ignoring the other man’s obvious desire to be rid of him.
‘We’ll have to get a new matron, of course. But there’s a problem you know.’
‘Well, of course there is!’ Heston said, too worried to employ his usual urbanity with a consultant. ‘The new matron is the least of our worries——’
‘If we advertise again, it will give rise to gossip. Manton hasn’t been here long—people will remember our last advertisement, and wonder. Don’t you think?’
‘No doubt, no doubt. But we can’t help that. If we can stop too much talk about the place here, and keep it inside——’
‘If we advertise, we won’t be able to. That was my point.’
‘So what do we do? Appoint the deputy matron to the matronship until the fuss dies down? We could do that, I suppose——’
‘And for how long can that go on? If the deputy matron acts as full matron for long enough, we’ll be forced to appoint her officially—we won’t have much choice. Any anyway, I don’t think she’s the ideal choice by any manner of means. I think we ought to make a new appointment at once——’
‘But you said it would be a mistake to advertise——
Heston sounded almost piteous. ‘Please, Mr. Jamieson, I have a great deal to do, and I really haven’t time now for——’
‘We have an excellent woman at hand already,’ Jamieson said smoothly. ‘Sister East. She applied for the post originally and was short-listed. She knows rather more than most about what has happened, too. As I see it, we should appoint her as soon as possible——’
‘Everyone knows about it. That’s the trouble. I don’t see that as sufficient reason for appointing Sister East——’
‘Then you don’t know her as well as I do,’ Jamieson said. ‘If you want to keep the Royal free of gossip you couldn’t do better than appoint East. She’ll see to it that nothing gets out.’
‘It’s hardly in my hands,’ Heston said distractedly. ‘Look, I really must get hold of Sir Peter—and there’s French. Oh, dear, oh dear, there’s French. If only Sir Peter would— but he’d be sure to make a hash of it, sure to. He’d go at it like a bull at a gate, and if French chooses to dig his heels in, we’ll not be able to get him to go without a lot of fuss. I’ve got to make French see he should resign——’
‘My dear chap, you aren’t being your usual percipient self this morning, are you? Sister East was the—witness of his foolishness, was she not? Tell him that she will be appointed to the matronship, and you know, I think it should have a considerable effect. Don’t you?’
Heston for the first time sat still, staring at the other man.
‘I see what you mean,’ he said at length. ‘And Sister East has some excellent qualities, of course.’
‘Excellent qualities,’ said Jamieson, and smiled.
Elizabeth packed methodically, clearing the flat of every evidence of her occupation. It was odd, she thought, how little it matters, any of it. If I’d thought about it, before it all happened, imagined it, I think I’d have expected to be upset. But it just doesn’t matter.
She took her nightdress from the bed, and folded it neatly before putting it into the suitcase. Perhaps I don’t care because I was disappointed in him? But I can’t rationalise like that. I wasn’t.
She stood still, looking down on the nightdress on the top of the clothes in the case, and her thoughts slid back, wrapping themselves into the smooth folds of the fabric. He had been a clever lover. Not particularly urgent, but clever. For a man who had had narrow sexual experience—and she knew that apart from Jennifer, there had been no other woman with whom he had slept—he had been clever. It was a pity that last night was to be the whole of their relationship. She had tried so hard, worked so carefully all these weeks, and all for one episode of satisfaction.
‘So much for my economy,’ she thought with wry humour, and went on with her packing. So much effort for so little return.
She took her suitcases down to the front entrance herself. It wasn’t that she was ashamed to ask a porter to do it, ashamed to let him see she was going, she told herself. I just want to be independent.
She delivered her letter of resignation to Mr. Heston herself, too, putting it neatly on his desk in front of him. He was in an agony of embarrassment as he put a hand out towards it, and then pulled it back, showing almost a fear of touching the envelope. She was amused, looking at him, at his red face, at the way he could not look directly at her.
‘There is no need for explanation, is there, Mr. Heston?’ she said kindly. ‘I have no doubt you know why I am bringing this?’
‘Ah, well, yes, I suppose I must say——’ Heston began.
‘I could apologise, I suppose,’ Elizabeth said easily. ‘But I don’t really see that I need. Except perhaps for being foolish enough to think that I could treat the sisters here like adults. That is what went wrong, you know, Mr. Heston. I tried to do something for and with them that should have been of benefit both to them and the Royal. But it didn’t work——’
‘Now, really, Miss Manton——’ Heston looked at her briefly, and then away. ‘You can’t really blame the sisters for last night’s—er—what Sister East—I mean——’
‘Oh, I don’t blame them for anything in which I was involved personally,’ Elizabeth said. ’I blame them for what happened to Sister Phillips. That is why I am going, you know, Mr. Heston.’
She put her hands on his desk, and leaned over so that he was forced to look at her.
’I’m not going because I was caught in bed with one of the consultants——’ Heston’s face seemed to swell with embarrassment, and part of her mind laughed at his discomfiture. ’I’m going because Sister Phillips attempted suicide. That is, she seemed to attempt suicide. She had no intention of dying, of course—she used her attempt in order to sort out her personal problems. I failed because I didn’t recognise her problems in time to prevent such a dramatic—resolution of them. Do you see what I mean?’
‘No I don’t.’ Heston began to bluster a little. ‘I’m damned if I do——’
’I instituted group therapy for the sisters in an effort to make them better at their jobs,’ Elizabeth said patiently, as though she was speaking to a child. ‘I did not foresee that they would—or rather that one of them would—use the sessions as a means to an end of her own. I know now that Sister East understood Sister Phillips’ problems better than I did, and chose to expose them in order to get rid of me. Well, she has succeeded——’
‘Really, Miss Manton!’ Heston stood up, and began to move about the room, in order to avoid her direct gaze. ‘Sister East has acted in the best possible way throughout, the best possible way. You suggest that she deliberately tried to—to arrange matters so that you would be seen in a bad light, but I can’t accept that, I really can’t.’
‘Can’t you?’ Elizabeth said softly. ‘You weren’t in Casualty last night, though, were you? I was. And so was Sister East. And she told me in so many words what she had done, and why, and how. It was—an illuminating conversation. She knows she will be appointed in my place, you know.’
‘Nothing has been decided yet—nothing of that sort,’ Heston said. ‘Not that Sister East would not—however. There has been no decision.’
‘B
ut the possibility has been canvassed.’ She looked sharply at him, and he returned to his desk to erect his familiar barrier of paper-fussing.
‘I can hardly discuss this with you, Miss Manton. Forgive me, if I ask you to leave me now—I must see people——’
‘Of course. I will leave the Royal today, Mr. Heston. The deputy matron knows, of course, and will carry on until you—make your new appointment. Goodbye, Mr. Heston.’
‘Ah—hmm, well. Goodbye, Miss Manton. I—er——’ But he could think of no parting wish that could possibly cover the situation.
She collected the last of her property, and left the flat without looking back. But she stopped at the head of the stairs. Shall I let it go? she thought. What difference does it make to me now? To interfere would be sheer malice, and do me no good at all. And then she smiled. Why not enjoy the luxury of a little malice, after all? There had been enough from her, in all conscience. Why not?
Sylvia Swinton was in her ward kitchen when Elizabeth came in, doing her charts over a cup of coffee, and she looked up as the other woman came and sat opposite her.
‘Coffee?’
‘Thank you,’ Elizabeth said, almost absently, and watched Sylvia pour it for her.
‘You’re going at once, then.’ It was a statement, not a question.’
‘Yes. Running away, you see. Like you. But without your—skill. You timed your decision to go rather better than I did. Not that I can pretend that my decision was entirely my own.’
‘I timed mine badly, too. Events moved rather more quickly than even I had imagined they would.’
‘Do you feel any—complacency?’ Elizabeth was genuinely curious. ‘You warned me, didn’t you? You knew exactly what would happen—or rather, that something would—and you warned me. And I ignored your warning. You must be feeling a little pleased with yourself.’
‘Yah, yah, I told you so? No. It’s been a long time since I got any pleasure out of that sort of thing. If anything, I’m depressed. It’s made me feel—old. Wise. You know?’
‘Yes—I think perhaps I do. It can be depressing, I imagine, to be an oracle. Look—tell me something. I really want to know. Where did I go wrong in my assumptions?’
Sylvia leaned back in her chair and looked consideringly at her.
‘Consulting the oracle? Piling on the agony for me?’
Elizabeth laughed. ‘You suffer no agony. You may not admit to enjoying your clear vision, and you may indeed find it depressing—but you aren’t in any agony. No, I really want to know what you think.’
‘All right then. I told you, didn’t I, that you assumed a maturity in the women here that doesn’t exist? That was the first error of judgement. The other was—more fundamental.’
‘You mean that there was a fault in me, rather than the sisters?’
‘Mmm. You came here and found a number of people, all operating quite successfully in their own estimations, and in each other’s but that wasn’t good enough for you. You wanted them to go on functioning as well as they were, but with insight, and with your kind of understanding of themselves and each other. You made the classic mistake of thinking everyone is capable of operating as you do. We all do it, to some extent. A fool can’t comprehend the thought processes of an intelligent person—and some intelligent people are incapable of comprehending the thought processes of fools. They think—you thought that the fools here—and I call them fools in the sense that they lack your sort of intelligence—you thought that they lacked not intelligence but education.’ She moved sharply. ‘I’m not explaining this well. Look, let me try metaphor. I’ve a taste for metaphor. This place when you came was like a beehive. There were all the sterile worker bees, bustling about, seeing each other through the translucent walls of their little cells, and believing they were able to touch each other through the walls. The fact that they couldn’t—that they were all cut off from each other—didn’t matter. They thought they were close, and therefore they were. You see? But you came and broke down the walls. For the first time, they really discovered that the other bees were alive and real; they felt each other’s body warmth, if you like. And they couldn’t stand it. You took away their protection, and they began to sting each other in an effort to rebuild their protection——’
‘It’s a complicated metaphor,’ Elizabeth said mildly. ‘And I think you’re a bit off centre with your zoology—but I see what you mean. I believed that they were a group, and therefore tried to make them operate as a group. And instead of making the group stronger, I caused it to disintegrate.’
‘Exactly. Have you ever nursed children?’
‘Only in training. Why?’
‘If you had done much work with children you’d know even more what I mean. Get ten two-year-olds in a room, and let them play separately together, and all’s well. But try to make them actually play with each other, and you get chaos. They fight, and cry, and they’re miserably unhappy.’
‘Back to immaturity.’
‘Yes.’
Elizabeth drank coffee in silence. Then she looked sharply at Sylvia who was again filling in temperature and pulse readings on her charts.
‘Have you reconsidered your decision to leave?’
Sylvia looked at her in surprise. ‘Good God, no. Why should I? If anything, I wish I could go at once. This place is far from—comfortable—now.’
‘They’ll appoint East, you know.’
Sylvia shrugged. ‘No doubt.’
‘I would rather they did not,’ Elizabeth said carefully. ‘You can put it down to malice if you like, but I would be much happier if I thought she wouldn’t obtain what she wants.’
‘You’re entitled to feel malicious.’ Sylvia smiled briefly. ‘I most certainly would in your shoes.’
‘You have some sympathy for me?’
‘A good deal.’ Sylvia looked at her directly for a moment, and then away with an uncharacteristic diffidence. ‘I—admire you. You know what you want, and I imagine you usually know how to get it. You failed here because of your virtues, really. Not because of your defects. I feel—a certain rapport with you. There are aspects of your character that I would be happy to feel were mine. I like you as a person, I suppose. You’re my sort.’
‘Doing a Cramm?’
‘No. I don’t get emotional crushes.’
‘Your desire to marry—the excuse you offered for wanting to leave—was it a complete fabrication? I begin to think it might have——’
‘Must you dot every i and cross every t?’ Sylvia said sharply.
‘I’m sorry.’ There was a silence for a moment, then Elizabeth went on slowly. ‘Will you do something for me? As a person?’
Sylvia put her pen down, and crossed her hands on the table in front of her, looking down at them with her head bent. Then she looked up, and smiled, her face softening with something that looked like real affection.
‘What is it? I will if I can.’
‘Apply for the matronship. Heston has already been canvassed on East’s behalf, I think—but he doesn’t like her. I felt that much when I talked to him. I think he would welcome another runner. And on purely political grounds, an application from someone less—involved with yesterday’s affairs would be useful to him. And the way things are, his advice about a new appointment will carry considerable weight with the consultants. Will you?’
They sat on in the ward kitchen for a long time, talking. When Elizabeth at last went downstairs and put her luggage in the taxi, she felt rather more content about the situation she was leaving behind her than she had thought she would.
‘But James, darling, I don’t understand,’ Jennifer said, fretfully. ‘I thought you liked the Royal—and this research you were going to do and everything-——’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ James said wearily. ‘It’s just better for me, that’s all. And in private practice, I’ll have more time for you, and you’ll like that, won’t you?’
‘If it’s what you want, darling, then of course it’s righ
t,’ she said, and rubbed her nose against his cheek. Automatically, he put up his hand, and stroked her hair.
Josephine was on the telephone, almost shouting at the stores officer.
‘I need those bedsides now—not this afternoon—now. If one of these old women falls out of bed and breaks a leg for want of a pair of bedsides, who do you suppose will be blamed for it? You certainly won’t—but it will be your fault all the same, because you didn’t fill my requisition promptly. And I tell you this—if such a thing does happen, and the hospital is sued, I’ll tell them in court why there were no bedsides, and then you will be blamed, just as you should be—I’m sick and tired of carrying the brunt of everything that—all right then. I’ll wait until lunchtime. But if they aren’t here then, I’m going straight to Mr. Heston——’
She felt better when she had slammed down the telephone and returned to the ward. There was work to be done, and until it was done, there would be no peace for anyone. As she hurried into the ward, the cluster of nurses by the centre stack of cupboards broke up and scattered like blue and white birds, leaving the surmise and gossip that had been so enthralling them hanging in the air like a tangible thing. It was not until Josephine went to lunch that they had a chance to talk again.
In the dining room, Ruth Arthur was already sitting over her meal, and her face lit up when Josephine came in.
‘Come and sit here, Jo—I want to talk,’ she said, but Josephine shook her head sharply, helping herself to a roll and butter as the maid served a bowl of soup for her.
‘If you want to talk about what happened yesterday, I’m not interested,’ she said clearly, and the maid sniggered as she went out to get the next course.
‘Why not?’ Ruth said, grinning. ‘I’m not going to take sides—I’m as sorry for Manton as you are——’
‘I don’t want to talk about it!’ Josephine almost shouted. ‘It happened—so it happened. Now forget it. There’s been a good deal too much talk already.’
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