Flowers from the Doctor

by Lucilla Andrews

  I stopped. ‘Long list?’

  It was an absurd question, since all the men due to be operated on that afternoon were coming from Mark. Previously he would have hit back at once with some glorious crack. I would have preferred that to his brief nod. I hurried on to Mark feeling as if he had slapped my face.

  Aline came into my room in the Home at seven that night. ‘Not changed yet? Come on, dear. The party’s started!’

  I explained having to go back, asked her to hand it on to Dolly. ‘I shouldn’t be too late. Theatre finished for the day?’

  ‘We hope. Sister’s on first call. Sonia Dinsford on second.’ She rapped on wood. ‘We had better not have any emergencies, as, apart from wrecking Dolly’s party, we’ve no surgical beds left and our surgeons need a break if ever men did. They’ve had a wicked week, and finished off with a five-hour session this afternoon. They’ve all gone to change now. I must do the same. Try not to be too late.’

  There was no moon that night. The sky was cloudy, and only an occasional star broke the country blackness. It was a little milder than it had been recently, and for once there was no wind on our hill, but I still needed my cloak buttoned to its full length.

  The Doctors’ House where the Grays were holding their party was roughly a hundred yards from our own on the far side of the ramp. This was only permanently lighted at night farther down where it connected the wards and departments. At the top end, like the footpaths to the other house and our Home, it was in darkness.

  As I reached our cycle-shed a few yards down the path two figures came out of a side-door of the Doctors’ House, and strolled along the path towards me and the woods behind. It was too dark to see their outlines clearly at first. I glanced at them incuriously. Then, Sonia laughed. Instinctively I ducked round into the shelter of the shed and pretended to be fiddling with a bicycle. It was quite stupid, since I had no need to duck. I was going on duty. It did not matter at all who recognized me. But I ducked.

  When they had gone by I came out of shelter and looked after them. Her companion was unmistakable. Johnny was the only man at the annexe who held his head up and shoulders back in that way. Certainly he was not walking as when he swung into the wards, but even in the darkness his walk had a happy air. The world was a good place for him again. Remembering how dejected he had seemed that afternoon, I was almost glad to see him with her, if that was the effect she could have. But I could not be glad at the way she was holding on to his arm, or the way he suddenly stopped walking, took both her shoulders in his hands, and kissed her.

  I raced on and down the ramp as if jet-propelled. I was going so fast I neither saw nor heard the man walking quickly up towards me. We met by the theatre.

  ‘Well, well, well! If it isn’t Kirsty!’

  ‘Richard! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Down for Henry Gray’s party, sweetie. I couldn’t make it earlier with the others.’ He stepped back to look me over. ‘Don’t tell me you are going to have to work through this one, too?’

  He was the last person I expected or wanted to see. I had no interest in him at all. If I had not just seen Johnny and Sonia I would have made some trite remark about life going round in circles and gone on. But I had to keep him there. He would not make a scene if he had just seen what I had, but Sonia would, and she would love it. Johnny would hate it. Of that I was sure. For his sake I would be willing to keep Richard talking on the ramp all night if necessary.

  I explained I would be at the party later, then added girlishly, ‘It’s so nice to see you again, Richard.’

  ‘It is?’ He sounded a little surprised by the warmth of my manner. Only a very little. He knew he was a very attractive young man. ‘It’s nice of you to say that, sweetie. No hard feelings?’

  ‘Richard! Of course not! We’ve been friends a long time! Friends,’ I assured him in a thought-for-the-day voice, ‘understand each other.’

  ‘You’ve got something there. I ‒ oh ‒ skip it. How’s life?’

  ‘Wonderful. And with you? Do tell me all about London and dear old Lister. I’m longing to hear.’ I was now gushing to out-gush Sonia. ‘It is fun meeting you like this.’

  ‘It is, Kirsty. But ‒ I ought to get on. I’m a bit late.’

  ‘Richard dear, be a little later. I do want to know all the news, and I can’t take you on one side at the party. Sonia wouldn’t like it. But I so often think of those days in Lister.’

  ‘Do you? Honestly?’ He was clearly not displeased. ‘We did have fun. Oh ‒ why not be a little later?’

  I had allowed myself plenty of time to get on duty, so I asked a whole series of questions about Lister, his friends, my friends, his future. He had obviously enjoyed doing the talking, was obviously relieved there were to be no harsh words about the past, and very pleased with himself to have me apparently still eating out of his hand. He really was very like Sonia, I decided, listening to him and wondering why I had not had the sense to see that before. He could no more help turning on his very considerable charm when there was a girl around than he could help breathing.

  The ramp was very empty for that hour of the night, possibly because the wards were so full and because of the party. No one came by as we stood there.

  A porter strolled out of Casualty, made for the lodge. A little later two dressers drifted out, sat smoking on the bench by Casualty door; they glanced our way occasionally, but were too far off to hear our conversation or we theirs.

  We had been talking some time when I noticed another porter or dresser was sitting on the bench tucked round the side of the darkened theatre a few yards from us. It had to be one or the other, as there was no flash of a white coat. Only the lighted end of a cigarette showed the shadow in the shadows was human. I looked at that pin-point of light absently. It was possible the smoker could hear everything we were saying, but that did not bother me. I just wanted to keep Richard with me long enough to allow Johnny and Sonia to get well up in the woods ‒ and if that was not my good deed for the year I did not know what was.

  At last it seemed safe to let him go. ‘I had better get in now. See you later, Richard.’

  He patted my shoulder. ‘Sure. Don’t work too hard.’

  I glanced back as I let myself in at the outer door. Richard had vanished, and so had that pin-point of light.

  Human nature, I decided unoriginally, was a very complex affair. Richard was no fool, good at his job. Yet he clearly thought that if you broke anything from a cup to a heart all you said was ‘sorry’ and that was the matter settled and forgotten.

  I could perhaps explain that away as part of his anti-scene complex, but not the manner in which an intelligent man had swallowed my blatantly saccharine line. I wondered he had not laughed in my face. I had found it very hard to keep mine straight, yet he really had lapped it up. It was a little disconcerting to discover how easy it was to say the right thing at the right time to the wrong man.

  Mark was quietening for the night, Sister talking on the duty-room telephone, White doing the medicine round.

  She came over to tell me about Sister and the Professor’s round when Sister joined us. ‘I am sorry to have delayed you, and to delay you still more, Nurse Francis. Unfortunately, I have no alternative. Matron has arrived down for the weekend, and I am wanted at the Office now. I shall return as soon as possible.’ She nodded at White. ‘Just carry on, Nurse White.’

  ‘Please don’t hurry, Sister.’ I walked with her to the outer door, ‘I’ve plenty of time.’

  ‘And what about Nurse Gray’s party?’

  ‘I’ve explained I may be a little late.’

  She gave an approving nod. ‘Good girl. I like the way you always put your work first.’

  I went into the ward feeling very guilty. I did try to put the job first as a rule, but could take no credit for this present occasion.

  I sat down at the desk, read through the evening report, then noticed White frowning over a prescription sheet. I went over to her. ‘What’s wrong
?’

  ‘This quarter of morph, for Brown.’ She tapped Arthur Jennings’s signature with her scissors. ‘It was written up after tea. Brown doesn’t need it yet; he will later. The wretched Mr Jennings hasn’t dated it.’

  ‘Nor he has, so we can’t use it. It’s too risky to wait for his night round. Will you ring and get him back?’

  She disappeared to telephone, returned a few minutes later looking anxious. ‘I’ve had to leave a message with Albert. There’s a crisis on. Albert says the whole Surgical Unit is at present moving in on Cas.’

  ‘Is it, indeed? What goes on in Cas?’

  ‘Albert was too busy to tell me, but I had a look out of our ramp door. An ambulance and a police car were arriving together.’

  We looked at each other, then went across to one of the ward windows on the yard side. The main entrance to Casualty was clear, the ambulance just driving away. Johnny, back in his white coat, was just inside Cas doorway listening to a police sergeant. Behind the two men we glimpsed the ginger head, round red face, and moon spectacles of Dr Spence, the Senior Medical Officer at the annexe.

  ‘Must be a local accident too serious to stand the journey to Hilldown General,’ murmured White. ‘But what’s the S.M.O. doing there?’

  ‘Whatever it is, it’s a bad sign. Surgeons don’t call in our top resident physician for a routine accident.’

  ‘No. But, Nurse ‒ how can we take him? The annexe is full.’

  ‘Sometimes a hospital just has to make room somewhere, somehow.’ I looked back at the ward. ‘Even if it means transferring a semi-convalescent surgical patient to a medical bed, or vice versa.’ The telephone-bell made us both jump. ‘That’s either our Mr Jennings or we are going to be the ward to have to make room.’

  She shot off, was back almost at once. ‘Looks like being us, Nurse. That’s Mr Druro from Cas. He asked for Sister. I told him she was at the Office, and as you had come in for the report I knew you would want to speak to him. He said he thought you might be in a hurry to get off to Nurse Gray’s party, but when I explained you had to wait for Sister he said then I had better call you.’ She walked with me to the duty-room door. ‘He sounded awfully queer, Nurse. Sort of edgy.’

  Under the circumstances, that did not surprise me. ‘He’s had a heavy week,’ was all I said before lifting the receiver. ‘Nurse Francis, speaking. Yes, Mr Druro?’

  Chapter Eight

  NO PARTY IN THE THEATRE

  ‘We’ve a boy here,’ said Johnny, ‘whom you’ll have to take in Mark, someone’ll have to move out into Simon Ward. The S.M.O. says we can borrow a medical bed. Now, about this boy. Name, age, unknown. He’s just come off his motorcycle on the other side of this hill. The cops brought him to us as they didn’t think he’d last the journey to Hilldown General. They could be right.’ And he gave a list of injuries that made me wince even though I was accustomed to road accidents.

  ‘Obviously, no helmet.’

  ‘No. Luckily for him he got flung clear of the road and among the trees, or he wouldn’t be here at all. He hit one of the trees with his head, and that did for his skull.’

  This was routine. It still hurt, and I suspected always would. ‘What about his family?’

  ‘The cops are checking. If that bike was his they’ll contact them soon and bring them up. They ought to be here. He’s only a kid.’ He was briefly silent. ‘He’ll have to go to the theatre from here ‒ if we can get him there. That impacted skull can’t wait. We’ve sent for Mr Bernard Kidd, but can’t wait until he gets here. He can’t get down from town in under two hours.’

  Mr Bernard Kidd was the cranial surgery specialist at Simeon’s. The Senior Surgical Officer at the annexe was a sound, experienced young general surgeon, but the kind of operation that would have to be performed on that unknown boy’s brain would, from the details Johnny had given me, be right out of the S.S.O.’s class. It was a job for a cranial expert.

  ‘So the S.S.O.’ll start and hope Mr Bernard Kidd’ll be down in time to carry on?’

  ‘The S.S.O.’s left for Bournemouth with the Professor about an hour ago. He’s not back until tomorrow morning. I’m standing in for him, so I’ll have to do this boy.’

  I had forgotten the S.S.O. was having an extra evening to attend one session of the Conference with the Professor, and that consequently Johnny as standin had no right to spend more than five minutes at Dolly Gray’s party, much less go walking in woods out of reach of a telephone. I was very shaken. It was the first time I had ever known him take his official job so lightly. Even when I had disliked him I had had to admit Johnny Druro was as conscientious as they came.

  Then I realized what his acting S.S.O. meant now. I felt rather sick. ‘Who do you want shifted to Simon?’

  ‘How about Parsons? He’s an old hospital bird, so won’t mind as much as a first-timer, and he is a semi-convalescent. Will you explain to him? And Sister Mark?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Will it be all right with you if we send him along to Simon in his bed, and then have the Simon bed ready to send down to the theatre? You’ll obviously need the bed, and may need it in a hurry.’

  ‘If we need it at all,’ he corrected grimly. ‘Yes. Do that.’

  ‘What about a ward nurse? Do you want one from here in Cas?’

  ‘No. One of the Cas nurses will take him over when he can be taken over. The physicians are working on him now. Dr Spence says maybe in fifteen minutes. We’ll want one of your girls then. A senior, if possible.’

  I had expected that. Junior nurses in Simeon’s were not wrapped in cotton-wool, but there were certain things they were not expected to experience during the early stages of training if it could possibly be avoided. ‘I’ll tell Sister Mark.’

  ‘Right. That’s the lot.’ He rang off.

  I jiggled the receiver-rest. ‘Albert? Simon, please.’

  ‘You’ll have to wait, Nurse Francis. Mr Druro, he asked me to put him through to Simon soon as he done with Mark. Won’t be long, I reckon.’ He clucked sadly. ‘Shocking business, this young lad and all. No name. I dunno. Don’t like to think of his mum and dad right now, I don’t.’

  ‘That’s just what I’ve been thinking.’

  ‘Aye. Going to be a cruel shock, that’s what.’ He sighed. ‘Mind you, Nurse, that Mr Druro he had a real queer feeling as we’d have a blow-up this evening, he did. Said as much to me, he did, when we watched the S.S.O. drive off with the Professor. “Got a nasty hunch, Albert,” he says, “a flipping nasty hunch. Getting old, that’s what.” And when that young brother of his was after him to get along with him to Nurse Gray’s do, our Mr Druro, he wasn’t having none. And I didn’t blame him, neither, seeing as I’ve never yet known him wrong about a case coming in ‒ oh ‒ hang on, Nurse! Simon’s free. You there? Gawd! You were that silent I thought as I’d lost you. Yes, Sister. Call for you. Nurse Francis from Mark Ward.’

  I had to take a tremendous mental grip to ignore, for the present, Albert’s remarks. ‘Sister, please, about that transfer ‒’

  White was putting away her medicines when I got back to the ward. My news made her turn visibly paler. ‘Oh, God! I’ll have to go through with the poor kid. I’ll manage somehow, but I just have a thing about busted heads, and I’m not a theatre girl.’

  I had already made up my mind on that point, but could not say anything without Sister’s permission. ‘Don’t worry about it until you have to. Just get on with your routine fast.’ I looked at the clock over the door. ‘Sister’s an awful long time. I’ve organized that Simon bed; it’ll be over in a minute. I don’t like to move Parsons without Sister knowing what’s going on, but time is getting on. I think I’ll explain to him now. And when that Simon bed arrives tell the porters to leave it in one of the bathrooms. It’ll upset the men in here much less if they don’t see it.’ She might not be a theatre girl. She was a good ward nurse.

  ‘You afraid it’s going to stay empty?’

  I just nodded. ‘I’ll see Parsons.’

/>   Parsons, a retired railwayman, took my news very well. ‘Simon, eh, Nurse? I was in that Simon Ward three years back when I had that gastric stomach. The Sister there’s a real nice young lady. Be glad to see her again ‒ not but I won’t miss me old mates in Mark and all you nice young ladies and the old Sister.’

  Sister did not arrive back until the porters were waiting to wheel away Parsons, and White and I were making up a fracture-cum-theatre bed in the first bathroom.

  I shot out to explain as she went up the flat. She needed no explanation. ‘I have just been talking to Mr Druro outside, Nurse. That poor child has just been taken into the anaesthetic room. Tck. Tck. Tck.’ She clicked her tongue against her teeth. ‘So very young. Most distressing. And Parsons is to go to Simon?’

  ‘Yes, Sister.’ I then told her all I had done.

  ‘Thank you very much, Nurse. I’m exceedingly sorry to have delayed so when you are off duty. I will just have a word with Parsons, then give you the report. In the meantime would you tell Nurse White to go straight to the theatre. I am sure Night Sister will try and relieve her if the case goes on very long.’

  I said, ‘Sister, can’t I go down? I wouldn’t want to be relieved.’

  She hesitated only for a moment. ‘I would rather send a staff nurse, and in your place would have felt as you do. Also it will help Night Sister. Off you go ‒ and thank you very much once again, my dear. We will have our report later.’

  There was an anxious-faced young policeman sitting on a bench against the wall in the theatre corridor. His helmet was on his lap, a cup of untasted tea on the bench by him. ‘’Evening, Nurse,’ he said flatly.

  A tall, angular figure in green came out of the theatre proper. Aline and I looked at each other in mutual surprise. She recovered first. ‘Going through for Mark?’

  ‘Yes. How is he?’

  She looked at the young policeman, and he looked at her. They shook their heads in unison.

  Aline swept me off to the nurses’ changing-room, closed the door, leant against it. ‘Have you seen him yet, Kirsty?’