She sighed sharply, and pulling her thoughts into a tight bundle to be tucked firmly away at the back of her mind, went quickly up to the fourth floor to Vanda Connaught’s room, her emergency bag in one hand.
The room was dark when she went in, and quite abominably stuffy, and wrinkling her nose Isabel went over to open the windows, but after taking one look at the face on the pillow, left the curtains closed.
Vanda Connaught clearly was suffering quite dreadfully. Her skin had a pale greenish tint to it, and without her makeup and her usual scornful expression her face seemed as though it belonged to a wax doll that had been left out in the sun, for the flesh seemed to be melting and falling off the bones, whorled into pouches and saggy lines and creases.
Isabel moved to the bed as softly as she could and checked the pulse at the lax wrist lying on the coverlet. Firm and even, still it was a shade rapid, she thought, and after a moment’s consideration, she picked up the telephone to call room service.
As she spoke quietly giving an order for a drink to be brought to the room, Vanda Connaught woke and moved her head on the pillow to groan a little, and then lie still, her face crumpled with pain.
“My head -” she murmured as Isabel leaned over her. “My God, my head -”
“Ay, I’ve no doubt it’s pretty nasty,” Isabel said dryly, and Mrs. Connaught opened her eyes and squinted up at her, only to shut them again in pain.
“You - is it? Get the hell out of here, you. I don’t want to see you anywhere near me -” and then she rolled over, and Isabel, recognizing the signs, rushed to the bathroom and was back with a bowl just in time.
By the time Mrs. Connaught was leaning back on her pillows whiter than ever - if that were possible - and exhausted, the waiter had arrived with a glass on a tray, and Isabel took it from him, and slipping one arm behind her shoulders so that she had to sit up, made the other woman drink it. She grimaced horribly, and tried to pull her head away, but Isabel was determined, and despite her spluttering made her drink it all, as the waiter stood grinning hugely and watching with undisguised pleasure, until Isabel saw him and with a sharp “Basta! Marchesé!” sent him away.
“God Almighty, what was that? It tasted like boiled garbage or something -” Mrs. Connaught gasped, but already her face was a little less wan and her voice stronger.
“Fernet Branca,” Isabel said, and went to the bathroom to bring a bowl of fresh water and towels, to set about washing the sick woman. “Tastes poisonous, but works very well indeed. You’re feeling better already.” It was a statement, not a question.
There was a pause as the other woman let Isabel swab and dry her face before starting on her hands and arms and chest.
“You’re right. I do.” She moved her head experimentally on her pillow, but winced again.
“I’d not try to cavort about too much, all the same,” Isabel said. “It’ll take you a few hours yet to get this little matter out of your system. Go on like this, and you’ll be suffering from chronic alcohol poisoning, you know that?”
“Ay, I know it fu’ well!” Mrs. Connaught said, sneeringly imitating Isabel’s Scots accent. “And it’s no bloody business of yours.”
“If I’ve to hold your head when you’re sick, I think it could be said to be partly my business,” Isabel said equably, as she cleared away the washing things, and then began to make the bed with swift professional movements. “Not that I’ll be here that long to do it, of course, will I? I daresay you’re very pleased with yourself about that, aren’t you?”
Mrs. Connaught opened her eyes wide and stared up at the face above her for a moment, and then made an odd grimace, half pout, half “couldn’t-care-less” shrug. “That’s what you think, you silly - oh, for God’s sake get the hell out of here, will you? I’ve had enough of you to last me a life time. Get out -”
“If you need me at all during the day, the switchboard will put you through to the clinic,” Isabel said, quietly. “I’ll be up to see you again at midday, and in the meantime I’ll arrange for some tea and dry toast to be sent up. If you’ve any sense you’ll take it. You’ll feel a lot better when you have. Good morning to you, Mrs. Connaught.”
All through the clinic hours she wondered and worried about Vanda Connaught’s odd reaction. “That’s what you think -” What did she mean by that? Surely she had made sure that her friend Garcia was going to sack her? But then, she remembered the way Sebastian Garcia had looked last night, staring down at Vanda Connaught lying sprawled on the floor, and she wondered even more -
And then she had to concentrate on work as the clerk from the afternoon before came in to be her next patient; and as she set about redressing the small boil on the back of his neck, he set about practising his small grasp of English on her.
“All the people in the hotel, they talk of the Señorita, the new enfermera - the nurse, in English, yes? All the people - the staff you understand - talk and talk -”
“Well, new people on the staff anywhere always make people talk,” Isabel said easily. “How does that poultice feel? Not too hot? Good - we should be able to open this in the morning, and then you’ll have a great deal less trouble with it. Well, I hope they’ll get over the newness of having a nurse on the premises soon. When too many people talk about my being here there’ll be too many curious people wasting time coming down with very small complaints that don’t need a nurse!”
“Oh, but for me, it is very necessary!” the boy said anxiously. “Indeed it is - what is it - very, very bad. It makes much pain, yes? It is for me very -”
“Och, I know!” Isabel said, and laughed as she fastened the dressing securely. “I didn’t mean you! Now, away with you, and come tomorrow at twelve - no earlier. Then I’ll lance that boil, and you’ll be fine -”
As long as I’m here to do it for you, that is, she thought sourly, as she cleared up after him, and dealt with the few instruments that needed sterilizing. The way things are at the moment, though, I just don’t know (what the hell did she mean? “That’s what you think -”) and then irritated with herself, she set about treating the last two or three patients before doing a final clean up, and washing her hands and combing her hair ready for the forthcoming interview with Sebastian Garcia.
She looked as neat and as efficient as she possibly could when she was ready to leave the clinic, with only the faintest hint of lipstick to soften the severity of her unmade up face, and her hair pulled firmly back under the pretty lacy cap.
But despite her cool crisp and highly professional appearance her heart was thumping heavily in her throat and her legs had a fine tremble in them as she made her way up the stairs to Sebastian Garcia’s office at precisely a quarter past one.
8
She walked straight into his office, not waiting for an answer to the perfunctory tap she had made on the heavy glass door, holding her head high and with her face set, she knew perfectly well, in a mulish expression.
But she was so startled at what she saw when she closed the door behind her that she blinked, and let her mouth soften until she knew it was hanging open in surprise. For the room seemed full of people; there behind the large desk was Sebastian Garcia, with Consuelo standing attentive and poised for action just behind his left shoulder. On his other side stood Felipe, and beyond him the head chef, looking quite incredibly huge in his whites and his tall hat. In front of the desk three other men were sitting, all looking remarkably alike with their smooth olive-skinned faces and pleasantly rotund bellies, their sleek black hair, neat dark suits, blazing white shirts and sober dun coloured ties.
They stood up as she came in, and bobbed their heads towards her with such chorus-like precision that for a moment she wanted to giggle, but then the amusement died in her throat as she looked round at the solemn faces all staring at her.
“Did y’have to call up the whole regiment to drum me oot?” she said involuntarily, and then frowned and bit her lip, hearing the Scots burr in her voice and knowing how close she was to exploding i
nto anger.
“Buenos dias, Señorita,” Sebastian Garcia said, standing up. “Regiment? I am afraid I do not quite understand?”
“It’s no matter,” she said stiffly. “You wanted to see me at one fifteen, so it’s one fifteen and here I am. I’d be grateful if you’d say what you have to say and be done wi’ it. I must say that I didna’ expect to see quite so many people.”
She looked sideways at the three round dark men, all still standing and staring gravely at her and wondered briefly; Directors? Sleeping partners? and then firmed her mouth: she was damned if she cared one way or the other. Let them just get on with it -
“Permit me to introduce everybody, Señorita.” He came round the desk to stand beside her. “May I present Señor Castillo, Señor Zumel, Señor Gomez. They wish to speak to you on a matter of some importance.”
One of the men stepped forwards and coughed self-importantly and with a small bow towards Sebastian Garcia began to speak in careful Spanish, waiting after a few sentences for Garcia to interpret.
“Señor Castillo is the senior surgeon at the hospital to which Ricardo Calcagno was admitted yesterday.”
Señor Castillo spoke again, clearly enjoying every moment of his speech, and still looking quite preter-naturally solemn, and again Sebastian Garcia translated, with his usual air of total imperturbability.
“ - the patient, he is happy to tell you, is comparatively well this morning - he underwent surgery after admission - the operation, performed by Señor Zumel - ” (Here one of the other men produced a sharp little bow) “ - lasted for three hours - the hand did not need amputation as was first feared - ”
Now the Spanish was coming faster, and more excitedly, as Señor Castillo waved his arms about, and Sebastian Garcia had to speak more loudly to be heard above the other’s voice. “ - and although Calcagno required several pints of blood in transfusion, his outlook is extremely good. The doctors of the hospital have come to express - they are very anxious to express - their appreciation of the excellent first aid care you gave - it is an undoubted fact that you saved this man’s life and the hand - without such intelligent care - he would quite certainly have lost his livelihood - if not his life - and - ”
At this point Garcia frowned sharply at something the little round man had said, and shook his head, but Señor Castillo became even more excited and insistent, and Garcia shrugged slightly and went on “ - and should you be willing to leave the post of clinic nurse at the Hotel Cadiz, they at the hospital would be very happy, indeed honoured - to welcome you to the staff as nurse in charge of the operating theatres - ”
And then they were all staring at her again, and now she couldn’t help it; the laughter born of tension and embarrassment that had started building up in her throat as soon as she realized what was going on could be contained no longer, and she had to let it escape into a soft snort, and her face creased into a wide grin as she looked from one to the other and tried to control her mirth.
After a moment during which the three men stared at her in some bewilderment they too began to grin, and then Felipe and the chef started to laugh and within moments they were all - with the exception of Garcia who returned to his seat behind his desk, and Consuelo were all laughing and nodding at her.
She caught her breath at length and blew her nose, and smiled at the three doctors (“and if only they didn’t look like some music hall act it wouldn’t be so bad,” she thought, as the laughter came bubbling up again, but this time was more easily controlled) and said aloud “Please, forgive me gentlemen. I didn’t mean to laugh quite so - you caught me by complete surprise, you see. And when I’m startled I always laugh - I’m truly sorry to have seemed so - so silly.” She looked a little wickedly at Sebastian Garcia and smiled again. “And apart from anything else, when I came in here this morning I thought it was to be fired - ”
Calmly he translated her words to the three doctors, though quite obviously leaving out the comment about being fired, and they smiled and nodded at her, all in high good humour.
“As for coming to the hospital to work,” she said, making her voice sound as friendly as she could. “Really, I am very honoured, but if you’ll forgive me, I think not. I like my post here at the Cadiz very much, and I’d be very sad to leave it - ” and again she couldn’t resist giving a wicked glance at Sebastian Garcia.
But he ignored it, merely translating her words, and the three doctors looked momentarily disappointed, though clearly not unduly surprised and smiled at her in great friendliness.
Señor Gomez put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle and stepping forwards smartly put it into her hand, and she gazed at it for a moment in horror; surely they weren’t going to give her some sort of gift? That would be too much.
“Please, gentlemen, all this fuss!” she said. “I did nothing all that special - just the job I’m here to do. And that I was trained for - ” Tentatively she unwrapped the bundle and then laughed aloud in relief, for it contained the two pairs of artery forceps she had used for Calcagno’s wound, and she held them up to show everyone.
“They’re very honest at the hospital to return your instruments so punctiliously, Señor Garcia!” she said gaily, and he nodded, and repeated her words in Spanish, and the three doctors shrugged deprecatingly and smiled, and she smiled back.
Then Felipe and the chef suddenly stepped forwards, and with the same rather quaint formality the doctors had displayed, Felipe thanked her on behalf of the kitchen staff - interpreting, he said, for his colleague the chef, Señor Hernandez - and himself, for he much appreciated the care she had given him, and assured her that the staff felt very happy to know she was there and so capable of dealing with the type of accident that could so easily happen in a busy kitchen and restaurant and -
“Thank you, Felipe,” Sebastian Garcia cut in quietly. “I believe Señorita Cameron quite understands your appreciation.”
“Oh, indeed - yes, I do,” Isabel said breathlessly, beginning to wish the floor would open and swallow her, so ludicrously embarrassing was the whole business becoming. “Indeed, Felipe, it was kind of you to say so much - and it was a pleasure, really - I mean - oh, you know what I mean!”
And then, at last, they were all gone, the three doctors bowing themselves out, and offering invitations, through Sebastian Garcia’s clipped interpretation, to visit the hospital at any time she wanted, and then Felipe and the chef departed, followed by Consuelo who beamed happily at her from the door, and then closed it softly behind her.
“Och, that was dreadful!” she said, taking a deep breath, and he indicated a chair for her to sit in as he came back from the door to reseat himself at his desk. “If only I’d been warned what it was all about, it wouldna’ have been so bad! But as it was - ” and gratefully she sat in the chair, and held her hands to her hot cheeks.
“Dreadful? In what way? These doctors are very senior members of the hospital staff, and that they should come on a busy day to speak to you of their approval of your work is hardly dreadful.”
“Oh, I appreciate the compliment they paid me!” she said quickly. “Look, please don’t think I was being - oh, rude or contemptuous, saying that! It’s just that - damn it, I’m a Scot! I’m not used to such - such fussing. It was a job I had to do and I did it, and all this - well, for me, it was dreadful and I can’t deny it! But of course I appreciate what they said. It was very kind.”
He was sitting turning a paper-knife between his fingers, staring down at it, the bandage on his hand looking very white against his tanned skin, and there was a moment’s silence before he spoke. When he did she was startled to hear the note of uncertainty that was in his voice; that Sebastian Garcia, the chilly, the still, the expressionless Garcia should sound uncertain was almost incredible.
“You said you would be sad to leave the Cadiz. That you were happy here. That was true?”
“True? Of course it was. I’m no’ in the habit of tellin’ lies!” she said, and embarrassment sharpe
ned her voice.
“It could have been courtesy.” And now he raised his heavy lids and looked very directly at her, and she thought with sudden inconsequence “his eyes really are incredibly dark. And very attractive - ” and blinked and looked away, startled by the sudden wave of shyness that swept through her.
“I told you, I’m a Scot,” she said after a moment. “We don’t go in for such niceties. Dour, that’s what we are. So even if it were a terrible insult to tell the truth, I’d be likely to tell the truth all the same.”
“I am very glad to hear that,” he said gravely. “It makes my situation a great deal more easy.”
She looked briefly at him, and again her eyes had to slide away. “Oh!” she said. And couldn’t think of anything more to say.
There was another long pause and then he said softly “You said also you expected to be - er - fired. That too, then, was true?”
She nodded silently.
“A foolish question, since already you have explained your national characteristics - so I ask you another one. Why did you expect so remarkable an action?”
“Why?” she stared at him in amazement. “Why? Oh, come on, Señor Garcia! I’m no’ daft, you know! After what happened with that - with Mrs. Connaught? I was sure that you’d - I mean, not only is she a guest here, but she’s a special friend of yours, isn’t she? And although I had an awfu’ lot of provocation, I was damned rude to her! So of course I expected - I mean, who wouldn’t?”
“Who told you Señora Connaught was a special friend of mine?” he said sharply.
“Who? I don’t know - one or two people - I really can’t be sure,” she shrugged. “But she is, isn’t she? I’d certainly got that impression, anyway!”
“Because of last night?” Again he looked at her with that heavy-lidded directness that made her shiver slightly. “Would it surprise you to know that it was my intention this morning to apologize to you for the appalling behaviour of Señora Connaught last night, and to ask you to remain here at the Cadiz in spite of her?”
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