Polly

by Betty Neels

  ‘You’re wanted in Sister’s Office,’ she said urgently. ‘Whatever happened? We were all at this end so we missed it. You’d better be quick!’

  Polly went past her into the ward. She still felt sick, but the quicker she got there the sooner she would know what was to happen to her. Sister Tutor, rather on the elderly side and old-fashioned with it, would never forgive her. Hadn’t she spent almost one whole afternoon making sure that the class realised that junior nurses—very junior nurses at that—did not address the consultants unless they were delivering a message or giving information which they had been asked for? ‘And if Sister is there, you will give any message to her and she will tell the consultant.’ Which made the consultant seem a terrifying being living in a kind of glass case. They had giggled about it among themselves, but now it was no laughing matter. With a silent moan Polly tapped on the door and went in.

  Sister wasn’t there, but the Professor was sitting at the desk with a pile of notes before him. He looked up as she went in and got to his feet, his firm mouth twitching into a smile, quickly suppressed as she said wildly: ‘Oh, don’t get up, Sister wants me…’

  ‘She sent the message because I asked her to. Sister has gone to have coffee on the Medical Ward. Sit down, Polly.’

  She hesitated, all her calm forsaking her. ‘I’ve got a lot to do in the ward—it’s time for the feeds—I must…’

  ‘Don’t twitter, Polly.’

  She sat then, and he folded his length back on to Sister’s chair.

  ‘You weren’t surprised to see me,’ she stated. ‘How very unfair of you!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he didn’t sound sorry in the least. ‘I’m on the Board of Governors here and naturally all applications come to my notice.’ His mouth twitched once more. ‘I did give you ample opportunity to tell me, Polly—why so secret?’

  She looked down at her hands folded tidily on her cotton lap. ‘I didn’t think you’d be interested.’ She sounded forlorn, but only for a moment. ‘I expect you found it very funny,’ she went on, suddenly severe, forgetful of all Sister Tutor’s teaching. ‘I daresay I’ll get the sack for being cheeky to a consultant—you are one, aren’t you? We’re not supposed to talk to them, you know.’

  ‘I know that only applies to on-duty hours, though.’

  ‘I was on duty,’ she reminded him sharply.

  ‘Yes, but I explained to Sister that we were old friends and you’d been taken by surprise—she was very nice about it. I see you have two days off. Are you going home this evening?’

  ‘Yes, Father’s coming for me.’

  He picked up the phone. ‘Well, we can save him a journey. I’m going to Wells Court on my way home; I’ll drop you off,’ and when she snappily refused, he went on blandly: ‘My dear girl, it’s no trouble, I go past your door.’

  Polly sat there, listening to him dialling her home, explaining charmingly to her mother, refusing, apparently with regret, her offer of supper. ‘About half past seven, then,’ he finished pleasantly, and replaced the receiver.

  ‘I’ll be outside the front entrance at six o’clock, will that give you enough time, Polly?’ And as she started to get up: ‘No, don’t go for a minute. How do you like your work here? Not very interesting at the moment, I imagine—feeding and potties and babies being sick and trying to remember how to get to the Dispensary or the Path Lab.’

  ‘I like it very much.’ She had regained her cool now, delight at seeing him well damped down. ‘Do you come here every day?’

  He smiled slowly. ‘Yes, most days—I operate three times a week, and there’s an outpatients clinic and a post-op clinic and the ward rounds. I go to Bristol too, I have beds at one of the hospitals there.’

  ‘So why do you publish books as well?’

  ‘I don’t. I helped Sir Ronald for several years; I have an interest in Latin and Greek and we had that in common; no one else would have bothered to get his book published, and I happen to be on good terms with the director of a firm which deals with that type of literature. Do you have to screw your hair up like that, Polly?’

  She gave him a surprised look. ‘Well, I can’t wear a cap with my hair hanging round my neck, it wouldn’t be allowed, and it doesn’t make any difference…’

  He studied her for a long moment. ‘No, it doesn’t. You want to go, I expect. Don’t let Staff Nurse Stockley bully you—Sister Bates will allow our—er—friendship to filter through the grapevine, so you need not fear to hear any more of this morning’s incident.’ He stood up as she went to the door. ‘You looked pleased to see me,’ he observed quietly.

  Her hand on the door, Polly turned to look at him. ‘I was taken by surprise,’ she said with dignity.

  Later, sitting beside Nurse Honeybun while they fed two babies, she explained a little: just that she had known Professor Gervis and had been surprised to meet him again. ‘That’s what Staff told me,’ said Honeybun. ‘Sister told her and said it was quite natural that you’d been surprised and forgotten your hospital etiquette. She told her she wasn’t to say anything to you.’ She added with satisfaction, ‘Always quick to criticise, is our Staff.’ She cast a sidelong glance at Polly. ‘He’s nice, isn’t he? Stops and talks to us, and plays with the babies and comes in at all hours if there’s an emergency.’ She held the baby over one shoulder and patted its back while it belched gently. ‘Hard luck on his wife, when he gets married—someone said he was engaged. You know that, of course—is she pretty?’

  ‘Yes, very,’ said Polly tonelessly. Providentially, the baby she was feeding began to bawl loudly and so there was no more talk.

  She was the only one of her set with days off; the others had all had theirs. They walked in and out of her room while she changed and showered and then packed a few things into her overnight bag.

  ‘Going by train?’ one of them wanted to know.

  Polly was brushing her hair into a silky curtain. ‘No. Car.’

  ‘Being fetched, are you?’

  ‘Well, no, not exactly. I’m being given a lift.’

  ‘Lucky you. Anyone we know?’

  It was surprising how friendly they had all become in one short week, asking and answering questions about each other, borrowing and lending, copying each other’s notes. ‘Yes—you may have seen him. It’s Professor Gervis.’

  There was a chorus of excited voices. ‘Polly, how did you manage it? He’s a consultant!’ The word was uttered with reverence.

  ‘Well, I know his sister and he knows my father. He’s got to see someone who lives near us, so he said he’d drop me off.’

  ‘But how did he know you were off duty?’

  ‘I suppose he… I’ve no idea, I didn’t think to ask.’

  Someone said lightly: ‘Well, make hay, Polly…’ Everyone laughed.

  ‘He’s going to be married quite soon,’ Polly told them. ‘I’m off—I’ll see you all on Sunday evening.’

  The Nurses’ Home could be reached from the street, but there was an underground passage connecting it to the hospital too. Polly, walking briskly along it, listened to the sounds which penetrated even there. Only at night was the hospital quiet and that quiet was often broken by a small child’s crying, or a baby’s wailing, now it was a cumulative tide of noise, muffled by thick walls. She had grown used to it during the last few days.

  She took the wrong turning at the end of the passage and had to retrace her steps so that she arrived in the entrance hall faintly harassed. And suppose he wasn’t there? Suppose something important had cropped up, and he’d forgotten to let her know? Suppose he had been joking? She went slowly to the great entrance doors and just as slowly through them.

  He was there, sitting in the Bentley, and since his eyes were closed, very likely asleep. She went close to the car and since he didn’t move, peered in to jump back with a half-suppressed shriek as he suddenly opened his eyes. Polly withdrew her head, half in the window. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up…’

  ‘I wasn’t asle
ep, just waiting for you.’

  She said: ‘Oh,’ uncertainly, and stepped back as he got out. He took her bag and slung it on the back seat and went round to open the door for her, then got in himself. Even in such a big car, he overlapped on all sides.

  It was a splendid evening and still warm, and there was a great deal of traffic, but once free of the city, the Professor shot ahead. They didn’t talk much at first, but presently he began to tell her about the hospital and his work there, and Polly listened with pleasure. Never before had he offered one grain of information about himself or his work; now he was explaining his long absences from home, the occasional night call, seminars in other countries.

  ‘It sounds so interesting, and it must absorb a great deal of your life,’ observed Polly. ‘Do you have time to do the things you like—I don’t mean your surgery, but your free time…’

  ‘I’ve always found time for anything I want to do. The unimportant social stuff goes largely by the board.’

  ‘Yes, but when you marry you’ll want to visit friends and have them back.’

  ‘Naturally, but there’s a vast difference between having friends in for a meal and making social conversation with a lot of people I can’t stand.’

  Polly murmured gently in reply and wondered what Deirdre would have to say to that. Presently she said: ‘But you do—did go out a lot. I expect Deirdre has a great many friends.’

  It was the Professor’s turn to murmur, it was more a murmured mutter and sounded rude. Polly thought it prudent to talk about something else. ‘Will you tell me about the children you look after? I don’t think I’ll ever learn enough to be a good nurse.’

  It was mortifying when he agreed affably, but he went on to tell her about one or two of the more interesting cases in his care, and she listened carefully, although it was his voice she was listening to more than his words.

  As they slowed down the hill with home in sight, she wished the journey could have taken longer. Probably she wouldn’t see him again for days. At least, she supposed he would come on to the ward, but he wouldn’t speak to her and she certainly wouldn’t speak to him. It would be sensible to go right away where she would never see him again, but she couldn’t bear the fearful thought of that.

  He turned into the short drive and pulled up before the door, and Mrs Talbot came out so smartly that she must have been lying in wait.

  ‘I know you can’t stay for supper,’ she said at once, ‘but you simply must have a cup of coffee—it’ll only take five minutes to drink.’ She offered a cheek to Polly and smiled at him.

  ‘I’d like to, Mrs Talbot, but only for five minutes—I’m due to go out this evening.’

  They went indoors and the coffee was fetched while he and Mr Talbot chatted briefly. Cora and Marian were out and so was Ben, and the house seemed very quiet, and true to his word, the Professor was on his feet again the moment he had finished his coffee. Not surprising really, thought Polly, with the girls not there to amuse him. She thanked him for the lift and wished him a pleasant weekend and was surprised when he said casually: ‘I’ll be here about seven o’clock on Sunday evening—does that suit you?’

  ‘Me?’ echoed Polly stupidly. ‘Oh, are you going to drive me back too?’

  ‘Unless you had other plans?’ He was looking down at her and smiling.

  ‘No, no, I hadn’t—I thought Father…’

  ‘No need for him to go all that way if I can give you a lift.’

  ‘Well, thank you very much—yes, I’ll be ready.’

  ‘I wonder when he’s getting married,’ mused Mrs Talbot as they watched the Bentley soar up the hill.

  ‘I don’t know. I wonder why he’s gone that way—I thought he was going to Wells Court.’

  ‘Probably he’s taking his fiancée—what’s her name? Deirdre—out for the evening. Those sort of people don’t start their evenings until late, you know.’ She led the way into the house. ‘Dinner and dancing,’ she went on, ‘somewhere posh—black ties and his Deirdre ablaze with diamonds.’

  ‘She doesn’t need diamonds,’ said Polly soberly. ‘She’s pretty enough without.’

  It would have cheered her up enormously if she could have been with the Professor when he reached his home. Diana was curled up in a chair, reading, taking no notice at all of Deirdre, got up as fine as fivepence and pacing the drawing room floor in a splendid temper.

  As he walked in she turned on him. ‘Where have you been?’ she demanded. ‘I’ve been waiting hours—heaven knows what the Carews will think when we turn up halfway through the soup, and Sir Edward Tomes will be there—he’d be so useful to you, he knows everyone, you’d never want for private patients—and what’s he going to think of us?’

  The Professor stood by the door, making no attempt to go to her, although he had lifted a hand in greeting to his sister. ‘Sir Edward Tomes may think what he likes, and I imagine I can manage my own career without his help. As for the Carews, I’ve yet to eat a decent dinner there; missing the soup won’t worry me.’

  ‘I suppose you were so wrapped up in what you were doing you forgot about this evening,’ Deirdre said waspishly.

  He didn’t smile, but there was a gleam of laughter in his eyes. ‘Something like that,’ he agreed lazily. ‘Give me fifteen minutes.’ He paused at the door. ‘You’re coming, Diana?’

  ‘Wild horses wouldn’t drag me there,’ declared his sister, and went back to her book.

  Polly, in the bosom of her family, ate Mrs Talbot’s excellent supper and regaled them with the week’s happenings. ‘It’s really rather fun,’ she ended. ‘Hard work, too, but the girls I’m with are very friendly and there’s a jolly decent girl on the ward called Freda Honeybun, she’s in her second year, but she helps me a lot. Sister’s nice too.’

  Mrs Talbot dismissed Sister with a wave of the hand. ‘And Sam came on to the ward and took you by surprise? I think that’s very…’ she paused and changed what she was going to say, ‘interesting. Is he nice with the children?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Polly’s face glowed with the pleasure of talking about him. ‘He plays with them and tosses them in the air if they’re well enough, and sits on the cots, though it’s forbidden.’ She saw suddenly that they were all looking at her and ended lamely: ‘He doesn’t take any notice of me on the ward, only Good morning, Nurse, if he sees me. He really only talks to Sister and Staff Nurse. There’s rather a nice houseman called Joseph Taylor.’ She trailed the red herring hopefully and her family obligingly swallowed it.

  The two days were gone in a flash. Polly filled them from morning until night, taking Shylock for his walk, going down to the village to fetch the groceries for her mother, going to church and stopping afterwards for the usual Sunday gossip in the porch, listening to her two sisters discussing their various boy-friends. They weren’t seriously in love with any of them and they joked a lot about them. Polly, listening to them, knew she would never be able to joke about the Professor—more than that, she would never be able to tell anyone about him either; loving him would have to be a lifelong secret. Such a pity, she brooded silently, that he has to fall in love with someone who’ll never take care of him or look after him when he’s tired or comes home late. And I would have: even when he was an irritable old man I would have loved him and made him happy. Only he would have had to love me too, of course, and he doesn’t really like me, at least I think not. I daresay he does his duty and offers people lifts and things without really wanting to.

  ‘You’ve not even been listening,’ said Cora suddenly. ‘Are you coming home again next week?’

  ‘I expect so, I’ve got days off on Wednesday and Thursday.’

  ‘Will Sam bring you?’

  Polly shook her head. ‘Of course not, it was only because he happened to be coming this way that he offered me a lift.’

  He was there on the dot of seven o’clock on Sunday evening, but this time he didn’t stay even for five minutes, only got out of the car to say a word or two to everyone, b
ut he put Polly’s bag in the car and ushered her in too.

  She made her goodbyes hurriedly and was annoyed when Cora called: ‘See you on Tuesday evening, Polly.’

  ‘It hardly seems worthwhile going back for two days,’ observed the Professor. ‘Probably you’ll have to wait for ten days for the next days off. You enjoyed your weekend?’

  ‘Oh, yes, it was heaven. Did you have a nice time too?’

  ‘No.’ He sounded so uncompromisingly brusque that she judged it a good idea to change the conversation. She dwelt on the splendid weather at some length, touched briefly on the garden and asked about the book.

  ‘It’ll be published in the autumn,’ he told her. ‘I must see that you get a copy.’ He lapsed into silence and Polly, quite happy just to be sitting beside him, kept quiet, watching the scenery, but presently she said composedly: ‘Is this another way to Birmingham? I notice we’ve left the motorway.’

  ‘I thought we’d have dinner. Would you mind? I missed tea and lunch was so social that there was more talk than food, and I’m famished.’

  ‘Oh, you poor man,’ said Polly in a motherly voice. ‘Let’s find somewhere quickly, it’s awful to be hungry.’

  His mouth lifted in a smile. ‘I hope you’re hungry too. There’s a quite good place at Cleeve Hill, quite small, just outside Cheltenham and not far out of our way. At what time tonight do you have to be in?’

  ‘Midnight each night.’ She went on chattily: ‘Of course, you can get a pass for later, only there has to be a good reason.’ She stopped abruptly because it might sound to him that she was angling for a date. Nothing had been further from her thoughts and it was palpably absurd in any case, but he was quite likely to turn on her and say something caustic.