He dialled quickly, and Bridie Cavanaugh leaned over and patted Tricia’s shoulder kindly, and then bustled out. And Tricia leaned back and stared at Dr Kidd’s broad shoulders as he talked.
“X-ray? Kidd. Listen, I’ve sent you a child for a straight chest X-ray. Just go through the motions, will you? She doesn’t need a film, but she’s a psychiatric patient and I want to keep her occupied while we sort out arrangements for her urgent transfer – thanks a lot. Yes. Yes – that’s it.”
He clicked the receiver rest, then dialled again, and Tricia listened, almost dreamlike, as he talked on.
“ – yes, Sandra Ryman. Age fifteen. I’m afraid I’ve had to mislead her, but I thought it justified in this case. She’s a good deal more agitated than we had realised – tried to do a jump from her window this morning – precisely. A very big gesture indeed. I’ve told her you’re a convalescent unit – well, I know. But I can’t keep her here, we’ve no facilities for adequate supervision. She’s in a private room – I know, I know, but the father was adamant. He’s one of those types that thinks it’s enough to spend money. Mmm. I couldn’t agree more. Anyway, you’ll contact him? Fine. You’ve got his office phone number, haven’t you? Good – good. I’m sending notes with her, of course, and I’d like to know how she gets on. She’s a very pathetic little creature – yes. Oh, yes, absolutely. Fine. Goodbye, then – ”
He cradled the phone with a clatter, and then turned in the swivel chair towards Tricia, to sit with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his white coat, his eyes sombre and his gaze very direct.
“Well, Nurse Oxford! And what have you to say about this morning’s little episode?”
“I don’t know what happened, or why,” Tricia said wearily. “I realise I upset the patient in some way, and I – I’m sorrier about it than I can say, but – ”
“I don’t want lots of self explanations and apologies. There’s no need for that. What I want to know is what happened. What she said, how she looked, what happened exactly. In detail. From the beginning. It’s the patient I’m interested in, not you – except inasmuch as you had an effect on her. Now, from the very beginning.”
Nettled, Tricia sat up a little straighter. “I went in to make her bed, and she said – ”
“No, no, that won’t do. In detail, I said. How did you look when she saw you?”
“How did I look? I don’t know! I didn’t stare in a mirror!”
“Your expression, Nurse, the expression on your face! Friendly, or as dour as you’ve looked ever since you reported to this floor? Approachable or sulky? How?”
“I have not been dour, as you put it!” Tricia said furiously. “It’s not my fault – well, not entirely – that everything has gone so wrong since I started here! I don’t usually go around looking dour, as far as I know, anyway.”
“What were you thinking about when you went into her room?”
“Thinking about?” Tricia wrinkled her forehead. “I don’t know – oh, yes I do. I’d just been helping with Mrs Kester. And something Nurse Jensen said – anyway, I remembered a patient I’ve been nursing on Men’s Surg. Three – a Mr Suckling. A nice man. He’s got an inoperable carcinoma of the pancreas and –”
“So you were thinking about death.” His voice was flat and impersonal.
“I suppose so. Yes. That could have made me look a bit – ”
“A bit dour. All right. Then what happened?”
And so it went on. Step by step, he took her through the whole episode, making her tell him in every detail just what happened between herself and Sandra, and as she told him, gradually the sick feeling left her, and she found herself relaxing. And at the end of it all he stood up, and looked down at her and said, “Well it could have been worse. The whole business was in part my fault. I suspected there was more depth to this girl’s psychiatric problem than I discussed with the nursing staff, but I didn’t want to – well, never mind. What do you know about her, anyway?”
“Nothing very much. Just that she had a termination of pregnancy.”
“Have you any moral views about abortions?”
She reddened. “Moral views?”
“Do you approve? Disapprove? Think girls should bear the burden of their sexual mistakes?” he said impatiently.
“I hadn’t thought about it much,” she said after a pause. “I suppose I should have. But it’s not something I’ve had to think about much, so – ”
“You should.” He stood up, and moved towards the door. “Only well informed thoughtful women can make well informed thoughtful nurses. There are some things we all ought to think about and abortion is one of them.”
He turned and looked back at her, and then, abruptly, smiled, and it changed his face quite remarkably, lifting it so that he looked much younger. “Anyway, you look as though you feel a good deal better. You had a very unpleasant experience in there, didn’t you?”
She smiled herself then, a small shaky smile. “It was horrible, I didn’t know what was the right thing to do, really – I could only stand there and talk and talk like some great idiot – ”
“Well, that was the right thing to do. You saved her life, you know. But don’t go getting too good an opinion of yourself on that score. For one thing, it’s what you’re here for, and for another, if you hadn’t walked in there looking so grim it’s an evens chance she wouldn’t have created such a performance. However, that’s beside the point.” He went out into the corridor towards the lift, and then turned back. “And you’d better go and wash your face and tidy your hair. You look a mess. Off you go!”
And when he was gone, leaving her furious at his blame for the start of the Sandra episode, rather flattered at his commendation of the way she had handled it, but above all, enraged by his parting shot. How dare he make any comments on the way she looked? And the dislike she had felt for him last night began to harden itself into positive loathing.
Chapter Five
She came off duty at seven thirty that evening, feeling as dejected as she could ever remember being. The only good thing that had come out of the morning’s episode had been a certain warming towards her on the part of the other nurses on the floor.
Bridie Cavanaugh had said to her, quietly, when she took Tricia with her to do the afternoon drug round, “There’s nothing makes a person easier to like than havin’ to forgive them for something. We all know now that it was you upset young Sandra enough to make her blow off like that and you’ve had the grace to admit it and show you’re sorry. So the girls won’t be seein’ you as quite as big-headed a little madam as you seemed. And you did, you know! And then, you handled it all very nicely, considering. I’ll tell you one thing, young Oxford. I’ll not be sayin’ anything to Sister Cleland about how the flap started. She’ll know what happened, of course – she’ll have to – but she won’t know your part in it except that you helped avoid Sandra goin” out of the window altogether, do y’see. And nor will the others say anything. So there’s nothin’ for you to fret about there.”
And for that Tricia was indeed very grateful, for the thought of what would happen when Sister Cleland came on duty next day had been nagging away in the corner of her mind like a sore tooth. Which, added to the other simmering irritation she felt at Dr Kidd and his attitude, combined to create a very uncomfortable feeling indeed.
So, when she came hurrying off duty and saw David sitting in one of the big armchairs in the reception area of the Nurses’ Home, his legs neatly crossed, and reading a tidily folded copy of The Times, her immediate reaction was to feel a wave of relieved comfort. He could be irritating, sometimes, Heaven knew, and she had a guilty conscience about the way she had behaved towards him over dinner the previous evening but he was there; he cared for her, approved of her, wanted her company, and that was balm to her very sore soul. She greeted him with a wide smile, and an impulsive hug that seemed to startle him.
“I thought I’d save you the price of a phone call,” he said, “and on a nurse’s pay
every penny helps, hmm? Feeling better than you did yesterday?”
“Better? Oh, not so tired, you mean? Well, I slept last night, which makes a pleasant enough change. But I’ve had a beast of a day – it is lovely to see you, David.”
“I thought there was more to it than my blue eyes,” he said shrewdly. “What happened?”
“Oh, no need to bore you with it.” She wished now that she hadn’t admitted to being miserable. She had felt for a long time now that it was very necessary to make David always believe she was enjoying every single moment of her working day; any hint that all in her chosen career was not ideal would be enough to make him launch again into his demands for an early marriage. And looking up at him now, at the square, handsome face, feeling the strong security of him so near to her, she knew how little it would take to yield, to say “the hell with the Private Wing – yes, yes, yes! Let’s get married. Soon – tomorrow – now – ” But behind that lay the broad streak of stubbornness that kept reminding her, over and over – you’ve started something. Finish it, properly.
“But I’m interested!” he said. “Look, I’ll tell you what. Go get yourself into something pretty – that trouser suit, you know, the one with all the colours – ”
“The Pucci print thing?”
“Yes. Wear that, put on your face, and we’ll go out, and you can tell me all about it. Somewhere really fun. Somewhere expensive and outrageous – ”
“David, honestly, it doesn’t have to be somewhere expensive, truly it doesn’t. And I’m not sure I want to go out on the swinging scene bit, to be honest. Maybe I am a bit tired at that – ”
“Oh, not a bit of it. Miserable and depressed, maybe, but not tired. You’re too young to talk like that – crawling into bed as soon as you go off duty is no way to live. We’re going out. Now hurry up and change, sweetheart. You’ll feel twice the girl when you get out of that blue sacking.”
“It’s a very nice uniform!” Tricia protested, looking down at the pale blue checked dress with the small puffed sleeves and the tightly belted starched white apron. “I’ve seen much worse.”
“It’s still blue sacking, and you look better in real clothes. Now are you going to change, or must I come up and dress you?”
“Masterful tonight, Mr Talbot! Well, all right. But I truly don’t want to go anywhere special – ”
He put his hand on her shoulder and walked her towards the stairs. “I am indeed very masterful tonight. Very. So we’ll go where I think is good for you – now scoot – ” and he leaned over and kissed her very firmly and then gently slapped her behind, and she shrugged in a resigned way and obediently went upstairs. And sang softly as she bathed, and changed and put on her makeup, because although there were times when David’s proprietorial ways irritated her, tonight she needed to feel cherished and looked after, and David was extremely good at doing that.
She came down the stairs a bare half hour later, and he looked up and smiled and said softly. “Now you look like my girl. My girl, instead of an anonymous angel of mercy – come here and be kissed.”
She felt suddenly shy and gauche, and shook her head awkwardly. “David, love – not here! The world and his wife go by – I – er – where are you parked?”
“In the usual place. Now, I’ve phoned for a table at the Trat. You like it there, and Friday’s usually a great evening. You really will see the world and his wife there. So, let’s go, hmm?”
The thought of the very fashionable Trattoria Terrazza and its gay swinging atmosphere, and the gorgeous-looking people who used it certainly had an attraction, so she nodded, and together they made towards the door. And as they reached it, it swung open, and Ngaire, looking delectable in a heavy crocheted brilliant yellow dress came bursting in, followed by a tall untidy looking young man in a vivid flowered green shirt with a matching tie, and a very tight pair of scarlet trousers.
“Trish! I’ve been looking for you! I thought you might be over in the dining room having first supper, and I wanted to catch you before you ate – hi, David! Super to see you!” She stood on tiptoe, for she was very much smaller than the tall David, and kissed his cheek resoundingly. “You know Skip, don’t you?’ She pulled the young man forward by one hand. “He’s our newest surgical houseman – isn’t he beautiful?”
The young man laughed, and nodded at David who was looking with some distaste at the other’s clothes. “Cantor – Stephen Cantor. Nice to meet you. Hello, Trish. How’s life on the half-crown side? Better than pigging it with the hoi polloi on the general side, I’ll bet.”
“Hello, Skip. Not really, I’d rather pig it any day. How are you? Haven’t seen you for ages – ”
“Oh, not so bad, considering. At least I’ve got a few hours off for once!” He stretched luxuriously. “First time I’ve been out of a white coat for a month, I swear. I’m on call tonight, mind you, but technically I’ve an evening off.”
“So listen, Trish, that’s why we were looking for you – and it’s great David’s here,’ Ngaire bubbled. “Because it’s the greatest thing. You know the show they have at the Pigsty on Fridays, sort of local talent and all that? Well, there’s this bunch of friends of Skip, and my dear, they’ve got a little group going – guitars, bass, and that – and they’re working at the show tonight! And Skip and me, we’re going to cheer them on, and you must come – both of you. Won’t you? It’ll be a great gig, truly, and you’ll love the group. They’re really good – ”
“The Pigsty?’ David looked startled.
“I’ve told you, David, haven’t I? It’s the local pub. The Blue Boar, just across the road, backing on to the Docks road,’ Tricia said. “It’s a sort of extension to the Royal! Everyone goes there – like a club, really. If you can’t find a houseman – phone the Pigsty! It’s a great place. The landlord’s been there donkey’s years – knows everyone who’s been at the Royal since the year dot. He knew all the most senior consultants when they were mad medical students, and when he starts on some of his reminiscences – it’s hilarious, really. And they have an entertainment set-up at weekends. Professionals on Saturday and Sunday, but amateurs on Fridays – so come on. The show starts at nine, and we’d better be early or we won’t get anywhere near the stage – if you can call it that, David. It’s about two by four, that’s all. But big enough! Let’s go, huh?”
“I’m sorry, Ngaire. Nice of you to ask us, but we already have arrangements. Another time, maybe – ” David said, and began to move towards the door again.
But Ngaire seized his arm, and looked up at him appealingly. “Oh, don’t be like that, David! Can’t you change your plan? What were you going to do?”
“David’s booked a table at the Trat,’ Tricia said.
“Oh, well! You can go there any time, can’t you? Do, please, David, won’t you? Trish’d love to come with us, wouldn’t you Trish?”
Tricia laughed. “Well, it’s usually fun at the Pigsty. Why not, David? Honestly, I didn’t really want to live it up tonight – shall we?”
“Well, if you really want to,’ David said a little stiffly. “I suppose I could ring the Trat, and cancel the booking. Though – ”
“No thoughs!” Ngaire said gaily. “It’s settled. And you can still eat at the Pigsty, David. Old Chalky does the best jellied eels in London. Don’t look like that – they’re delicious! You ought to try. But there’re other things too. Great ham sandwiches and sausage rolls and hot pasties. Ooh, do hurry and phone! I’m famished.”
His lips a little thinner, David turned and went to the phone in the far corner. While they waited for him Ngaire chattered on in her usual fashion, and when he came back to them and Skip held the door open, went on chattering as they crossed the nurses’ garden, ducking under the big copper beech tree in the middle (traditionally known as the “Kissing Tree’ so kindly did the great old branches sweep down almost to the ground to create a deeply shadowed private place against its great trunk), while David walked silently a little way behind her, alongside Trici
a.
Under cover of Ngaire’s talk to Skip, Tricia said in a low voice, “You don’t really mind this, do you, David? It’s not as though you’d made plans a long time in advance, after all. I mean, you only decided on the Trat a few minutes or so ago.”
“If this pub thing is what you want, then I suppose that’s that. Though I do feel Ngaire is a bit high handed at times, if you’ll forgive me saying so. I know she’s your best friend but really, it is a little annoying – ”
“Oh don’t be stuffy, David! She really means awfully well. And she’s great fun – we always do enjoy ourselves when we’re in a crowd with Ny, you know that.”
“Yes,’ David said noncommitally. “I suppose so. But how much chance we’ll get to talk – and I really want to know what it is that’s bothering you.”
She squeezed his arm affectionately. “Dear old David – you are nice to worry so. But really, it’s nothing. And I’ll be much better off giggling with you and old Ny and Skip than telling you tales of woe. Forget it, and then I will.”
And she reached up and kissed his cheek, and he shrugged a little and then smiled at her. “Oh, well. If it’s what you want. But we’ll settle a real date for tomorrow or Sunday. Just us. Right?”
“Right,’ she said, and they crossed the pathway that led past the Pathological Laboratories to the side gate, and ducked through it to cross the noisy road towards the red brick Victorian building on the far side.
The place was still only half full, with a fairly noisy group of third year medical students and nurses in one corner, and a rather quieter one of dockers in another. One or two couples were sitting at the small marble topped tables, and several people waved at Skip and Tricia and Ngaire as they came in, and after a cheerful greeting from the very fat heavily sweating man behind the bar, settled themselves at a table fairly near the tiny stage at the far side of the big, heavily decorated room with the engraved glass mirrors, and red plush, and gleaming brasswork.
The Private Wing Page 6