Nurse Kelsey Abroad

by Marjorie Norrell

  “I should advise you to keep away,” Jane made a determined move towards the door and the next long trek to the ward which was next on her list, the women’s surgical ward, a long passageway away.

  “I’m curious,” Kevin admitted. “I always have been. Can’t help it, somehow. I guess I was born that way!”

  “I always understood curiosity was what did for the cat!” Jane found she couldn’t be angry. He looked so like a small boy defying authority, and after all, she thought, looking indulgently in his direction, what could someone like Dr. Kevin Dean know of a military establishment? And even if he were taken round the laboratory she didn’t think for one moment he’d be allowed to linger long enough near to anything that mattered for him to make much use of whatever he may observe.

  “How?” was all Kevin said, and as she looked blankly back at him he laughed. “How did curiosity kill the cat?” he persisted. “I’ve always wanted to know the answer to that one!”

  “Then you’ll have to ask someone else,” Jane laughed, and dismissed him, deliberately starting on her walk, but the smile was still touching the corners of her mouth as he also turned and went off, whistling, in the direction of % Dr. Jim’s office.

  She thought over what she had heard about Kevin Dean since she had come to Seonyata. Whatever else he was, she reflected as she neared the doors to the ward, he was a pleasant, happy young man. He was a good anaesthetist, of that she had ample proof. He was, perhaps, an excellent doctor, certainly he seemed interested in his work ... interested, yes, she admitted as she studied the report card hung above the bed of her next patient, but by no means absorbed!

  She had seen the way in which the eyes of the patients turned their gaze in the direction of Dr. Jim when they had walked past the various beds together. In most cases there was something common to all, a look of trust, of simple faith and obedience, as though his mere presence in the ward was something to which they could cling.

  “And with Dr. Dean,” she remembered as she lifted her patient into a more comfortable position, reminding herself that post-operative care for a patient whose peptic ulcer had been dealt with had rules of its own, “with Dr. Dean,” her thoughts resumed, “only the children appeared to idolise him, and if he’s always as lighthearted as that, there’s no wonder!”

  She checked the Ryle’s tube which had been left in to collect any fluid, wiped the woman’s forehead, said a few encouraging words which she knew the patient could not understand but which appeared to have conveyed their meaning—as she had intended they should do—by the mere tone of her voice.

  She progressed down the ward. The appendicitis was progressing well; so was the colostomy. She completed her tour and tried to chat a little to Nurse Marietta, who had a few words of English at her command, and with a feeling that perhaps after ah it was not going to be quite as impossible as it had at first appeared, she went on to the men’s surgical ward, which seemed to her to have receded even further away from the other buildings than she remembered.

  “It seems so silly,” she thought as she walked quickly but without seeming haste, towards the doors. “They could have built all these into three blocks—one for the men, surgical and medical, one for the women and a third block for the children. They don’t suffer from lack of space out here, that’s true enough, but they may do one day, and then, I suppose, all this will be different anyway. But that,” she sighed, “won’t be in my time, however long I’m supposed to remain here!”

  The work was interesting, and she enjoyed particularly the difference. There had been difficult times at the Rawbridge now and then, particularly when there had been a train crash not very far from the town and the majority of the injured had been rushed to the General. Matron had acted like a well-trained general herself, the whole hospital had swung into action and everything had run so well that afterwards a visiting member of Parliament had proudly said the entire happening might well have been rehearsed, so well did everyone do his or her appointed duty.

  There had been occasions at the Mowberry too, which had been dramatic enough in themselves, but they and the influx of victims of the crash to the General had all felt behind them the weight of what help was there to be summoned by the lifting of a telephone, an outline of what was needed and how urgently.

  Here there was nothing. Or, more correctly, so little the whole thing was next-door to the primitive. It could have been worse, she conceded. She had talked with one ex-W.H.O. nurse who had been in the Congo and had performed all manner of apparent miracles when circumstances had been against the help they sought to give.

  There were other nurses, too, to whom she had talked from time to time. She remembered as she walked back to the flat the middle-aged nurse who had spent so long in the mission hospital in China. They too had been without the benefits of so-called civilisation, yet their record as medical people—theirs and the doctors with whom they worked—had been little short of miraculous.

  “It’s thrilling,” Jane decided as she climbed the steps to her flat and let herself inside, conscious of the elderly caretaker’s stare following her progress “to be part and parcel of all this, to know one is taking part in something the end of which none of us can possibly foresee! This could be the very beginning of something wonderful, and I should count it a privilege to be able to help in any way at all!”

  All the same she was tired, more tired than she ever remembered being in her life. She kicked off her shoes and padded round the flat in stockinged feet, conscious of the chill of the thick linoleum with which the floor was covered.

  “I’ll buy some rugs—or make some,” she decided, raking the stove and being rewarded by a cheering glow. “That’ll give me something to do in my off-duty, and keep me out of mischief, as Mother would say!” she told herself, smiling. “Thank goodness Ann left me her record-player, though I suppose I shall soon know all the tunes on her records backwards as she said she did! I never imagined I’d miss the radio so much! However...!”

  Characteristically she looked for ways and means to keep herself busy and yet not too energetically so, as she busied herself about the place. Soon there was a delicious aroma of toasted bread. The bread from the shop Ann had recommended was rather more coarse than any Jane had ever seen, but the scent of it as she browned it before the open stove was wonderful.

  Always willing to experiment, she had bought what looked like very tiny sausages, and soon they were frizzling gaily on top of the stove. She did not want to eat in the hospital staff kitchen. Not yet. She wanted to savour the joy of housekeeping for one in the little flat which was her own small territory in this alien land.

  She was happily engaged in' brewing her tea when there was the sound of heavy feet ascending the stairs, and before she had time to wonder whether or not she was afraid, someone was knocking furiously on her door.

  Jane knew her heart was pounding like a mad thing, but she forced herself to remain calm as she walked over to the door, finding a lack of dignity in her shoeless feet, though, at the moment, no one was there to see.

  “Who’s there?” she demanded, and held her breath. When the answer came it was so unexpected it startled her.

  “Karl Brotnovitch, Nurse Kelsey,” came the answer in perfect English spoken with just the trace of a continental accent. “I would like to have words with you, if you will please be so kind as to open the door.”

  There was no order, no demand, and yet, because she remembered all too clearly the way this man’s eyes had looked at her, Jane felt a sudden chill run over her body. It seemed strange, too, that he spoke her own tongue so easily.

  “Just a moment,” she said, and pattered across the floor in search of her shoes. She could not find them, and realised she was acting in a flustered manner—as if, she thought with self-scorn, his knocking on my door makes me feel guilty! Desperately anxious not to antagonise him, she thrust her feet into slippers and hurried to open the door.

  He seemed larger even than she remembered him. He loomed
in the doorway like a giant, and somewhere below, she knew the elderly caretaker was watching. Karl Brotnovitch took a step further into the room and closed the door behind him, a faint smile showing on his thin-lipped mouth, although not, she realised, in his eyes.

  “It would be better were no one able to overhear my warning, Nurse!” he announced. “Not that Hevrow could understand much of what I have to say, but it is better he should not overhear anything. What little of your language he knows is more than sufficient for his needs.”

  “You speak it very well yourself, sir,” Jane felt the title might mitigate something of whatever it was he had come to say, and she was rewarded, if rewarded it could be called, by another chilly smile.

  “Thank you, Nurse,” he seemed to enjoy saying the word “nurse”. “I was fortunate to share lessons with the son of the first ambassador here some years ago. I have always been grateful. It was of especial help to me in assisting Doctor Lowth establish all he has managed to do so successfully here. I hope I may be able to help him further, as he is hoping so much from his forthcoming extensions.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Jane said, thankful to be on what must be safe ground. Karl Brotnovitch smiled again and shook his head, moving a pace nearer. There was nowhere she could retreat, for she was standing before the stove.

  “Of course not,” he agreed, “but you will, if you remain with us long enough, and I sincerely hope you will do so! I called to warn you that you must beware of Dr. Lowth’s colleague, Dr. Dean. He is a clever young man,” he nodded sagely, “but too clever, perhaps. He does not heed the warnings given for his own wellbeing. He flouts authority whenever he encounters it outside the hospital. He has been warned, on more than one occasion. The next time,” his eyes held their hard expression again and his thin mouth tightened, “I shall have to take steps to ensure he is kept under proper control.” Without any warning he reached out suddenly and touched her hair, stroking its silky texture as though she were a kitten.

  “Beautiful,” he said in an abruptly dreamy tone which went oddly with his militaristic appearance. “You ought to have a special permit to wear it so all the time! The sight would, I am sure, do your patients as much good as certain of the medicines Dr. Lowth prescribes for their ills! Isn’t there,” he was suddenly completely Dalasalavian again, “someone at home, in your own country, who is longing at this moment to touch, as I do now, this lovely hair, the colour of moonlight? Isn’t there someone, some man to whom you are betrothed, who waits and longs for your return to your own home? I am sure there must be ... and he is a very lucky man!”

  “There isn’t anyone, no boy-friend, no ... man,” Jane found herself saying wildly, wondering what it was about this man she found so unnerving. She had done nothing wrong, said nothing wrong, why should he have the power to make her feel as guilty as though she had committed every crime in the Seonyata calendar?

  “I am pleased,” he said quaintly. “That is a good thing. Now, please to remember, you must be careful in your dealings with Dr. Dean. Remember he is under suspicion because he is always interfering with matters which are no concern of his. He is here to work in the hospital, to assist Dr. Jim. Not to help our young people—some of our young people—” he corrected himself quickly, “become discontented with their lot! As time goes by there will be all they need here, in Seonyata, all they need and more! It is not the time now to try and make the changes, to attempt to push matters on when we are not ready for further progress! False moves now would destroy all we have worked and hoped for, and people who do not heed the warnings as they are given must be regarded as enemies of the state! We do not have much patience with our enemies!” he said soberly, and again the chill ran over her body.

  Making a determined effort, she moved to one side, forcing herself to speak as pleasantly as she could in the circumstances.

  “I was just about to make myself some tea,” she said gaily.

  “You are most kind.” Before Jane had realised his intention he had moved across to where she stood, snatched her hand from her side and kissed it resolutely.

  “I will tell my driver,” he informed her. “He will be back for me in ten minutes. He will continue the round until then.”

  Jane hurried to make the tea and to pour the two cups full. She had no idea whether or not he preferred it weak or strong, milkless or with plenty of milk, sweet or otherwise, and just then she did not care.

  When he returned he took a chair, after waiting until she was seated, and drank his tea with every sign of enjoyment. Yet all the time, and all the time he was telling her of the wonders of his country, his gaze remained fixed on her face and hair. And all the time Jane felt uncomfortable, as though she were already, in some strange way, on trial.

  It was a relief when he rose to take his leave, the driver, a thickset, taciturn young man, having appeared at the door, knocked and gone back downstairs.

  “I have so enjoyed our chat, Nurse,” Karl Brotnovitch informed her, clicking his heels and bowing. “Perhaps one evening, when neither of us is on duty,” again the chill smile, “you will allow me to escort you to one or other of the places of entertainment or education I have just talked about?”

  “That would be ... very kind,” Jane managed. “Thank you.” She did not say she would go, and inwardly made a resolution to always have some form of duty ready, mentally at least. She didn’t want to go anywhere with Karl Brotnovitch, no matter how important he was. Yet at the same time there was something about the man she found fascinating, but it was with the fatal fascination the snake is said to hold for its prey!

  “I’m being foolish!” she reminded herself as she heard him being driven away. “It’s all strange, that’s all it means. I’ll just have to remember what Dr. Lowth—and Ann—and now Brotnovitch have said, and leave Kevin Dean to play his own silly games. But at least,” her ever bubbling spirits revived suddenly as she recalled his obvious admiration of her colouring, “life in Seonyata promises to be diverting, if nothing else!”

  CHAPTER 5

  HAD she spent a week thinking of nothing else, never in her wildest dreams would Jane have believed life in this out-of-the-way capital could prove so diverting, so full of excitement. It was not, for which she duly gave thanks, excitement of a dangerous nature, but it was sufficiently stirring to keep her on her toes and, as always, interested in everything and everyone around her.

  To begin with there had been a mild outbreak of dysentery, and Jane felt the same relief that Dr. Lowth had expressed when it had finally been established that the epidemic was due to Flexner’s and Sonne’s bacillus, and not to Shiga’s which would have meant tropical dysentery.

  Barrier nursing had been, naturally, more than usually difficult, since St. George’s was by no means equipped as yet to cope with an epidemic of any size in anything but in the most primitive manner.

  Wonders, according to Dr. Jim, had been accomplished, mostly due to Jane’s careful handling of her meagre staff and her own unceasing hard work. By the time they could say, with any truth, they were free to decide that the epidemic had run its course, Jane was worn out. Had she now found the free time in which to enjoy herself she knew she could not possibly have found the energy required for even a visit to the Golden Fiddle.

  One of the victims of the epidemic, and one of the worst afflicted, had been a Madam Brentlov. She was a middle-aged woman, well built and attractive when the illness first struck. By the time she was brought to St. George’s she was gaunt, haggard and in despair. She was a cultured woman, and as Jane sat beside her bed during one of the worst nights of her stay in the hospital, Madam Brentlov began to talk.

  Her husband was in charge of one of the few factories which Seonyata boasted. The factory was as up-to-date as he could possibly make it, and on the whole his workpeople seemed a contented, happy lot. Madam was worried, she admitted, because some of the younger members of the community were only too anxious to take matters a number of steps further. They were no
longer content to wait and work for the marvellous day when they would be suitably rewarded. They were young, Madam sighed, and did not know new ideas took a long time to develop. They would have all they asked for and more, when once the factory was supplying its goods throughout the world. It was merely a matter of time, time and patience. If only the young people would wait...

  Jane murmured all the right things—at least she hoped they were the right things—moistened the dry mouth and gave Madam a small drink of water. She reflected that the sulphaguanidine drug was taking an unconsciously long time to work where Madam Brentlov was concerned, and, not only because she was a patient, and where Jane was concerned that was always enough to ensure all the extra care and attention possible, but because she liked Madam so much, she redoubled her efforts to make certain that, in this distressing illness, she suffered the minimum amount of discomfort possible.

  As with all the other patients, Madam Brentlov’s illness had to run its course, but at length her husband collected her as discharged, both of them overflowing with gratitude to Dr. Lowth, the staff, and to Jane in particular, for all the care and attention she had received. Jane had been surprised and touched when a hamper arrived at the flat shortly afterwards, full of all the many and varied items the factory made for export. She knew by now how much the Dalasalavians as a whole worked to increase their country’s prosperity, and she knew this was indeed a great favour, since the gift, once given, would not be reclaimed and the contents of the hamper join the rest of the goods intended to swell the firm’s export drive.