by Neels, Betty
He followed her through the house, and she sat him down at the kitchen table, poured tea and put a plate and the toast before him. He looked tired and hungry, and she offered him eggs and bacon.
‘Oh, splendid, but only if you’re cooking for yourself. Where’s Mrs Dowling?’
‘She’s spending the night with her sister. She’ll be back by midday.’
‘You’ve been alone in the house?’
Her delight at seeing him again was fading in the remembered disappointment at his lack of interest in her future. Perhaps he thought that, since he had given her a chance to get away from her brother, that was sufficient; and, in all fairness, probably it was.
All the same, she gave him a resentful look, and said with something of a snap, ‘Well, of course.’
He was sitting at the table still, finishing off the toast. He said slowly, ‘You’re angry, aren’t you? Left out on a limb—no job, no home, no future. Don’t bother to deny it,’ he finished blandly, ‘I can see it for myself. You’ve been looking for work?’
She broke eggs with considerable force. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, don’t. There is a job waiting for you at the hospital.’ He took another bite of toast. ‘They’re desperate for nursing aides—you know what they are?’
‘Vaguely.’ She ignored the sudden leap of hope; she hadn’t got the job yet, she might be quite unsuitable. Besides, she didn’t know much about nursing.
‘Monotonous work, mostly: getting beds made, fetching and carrying for the nurses, feeding patients, carrying bedpans, cleaning up when someone’s sick, but, if you’re good at these, in time you will get more skilled work. The pay seems quite good...’ He mentioned a sum which was a good deal more than the Graingers had been paying her. ‘You get cheap meals in the canteen and, if you want to live out, my housekeeper has a sister who lets lodgings.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘Has it struck you that we tend to meet in the early mornings? Hardly romantic...’
‘I don’t think I’m a romantic person,’ observed Katherine, piling bacon on to a plate and topping it with eggs. ‘And you don’t need to be...’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, there’s Dodie...I mean, well...’ She paused, trying to find the right words. ‘You’ve found someone to be romantic about, so you don’t need to bother any more.’
He gave a great snort of laughter. ‘Remind me some time to put you right about one or two things! I must say you have some strange notions.’
He began his breakfast as she sat down with her own plate. ‘Well, what about this job at the hospital? Do you want it?’
She poured him more tea, and said soberly, ‘Yes, please. That is, if I’ll do.’
‘Good, I’ll let you have the particulars some time today.’
‘Thank you for bothering, Dr Fitzroy.’ She was brimming over with relief and excitement, but she spoke with her usual calm.
‘Did you think that I’d washed my hands of you? No, don’t answer that.’ He finished his breakfast and sighed. ‘Will you forgive me if I go? I’m due to start work very shortly.’
He got to his feet, and she followed him out of the kitchen. ‘Mr and Mrs Grainger—they’ll be all right? I’d got rather fond of them. As long as there is someone to look after them...’
‘I shall make it my business to check on that. They were fond of you, too. They should never have gone on this visit, but Dodie persuaded them—and this Tom Fetter backed her up.’
She would have liked to have talked about that, but she could see that he wanted to leave. She opened the door and wished him goodbye. She stood at the open door, watching him drive away, thinking it would be wonderful to work near him and see him each day.
There was a phone call from the people at Stockbridge later that morning; a voice wanting to know when she would come. It seemed the owner of the voice was desperate—four children, home for the Christmas holidays, and an old granny to look after. Katherine explained with polite firmness that she already had a job, listened patiently to the moaning voice at the other end of the line and rang off. A fine thing, she told herself, if the hospital decided that they didn’t want her, after all!
But it seemed that they did; Christmas holidays, ‘flu and a sudden influx of patients had made it an urgent matter to enrol more help as quickly as possible. The rather severe voice asked her to go for an interview that afternoon and, if suitable, to be ready to start work a day or so later. It was usual, the voice went on, for several days to elapse while references were checked, but Dr Fitzroy had vouched for her.
Katherine reviewed her wardrobe, assembled a light lunch for herself and Mrs Dowling, and spent some time before the dressing-table glass, making the best of her appearance. After a meal with that lady, she put on the brown coat and walked to the hospital.
She had no idea what to expect. She presented herself at the reception desk, and was led by a rather harassed clerk to the back of the hospital, an area of gloomy corridors and massive doors, relieved only by the busts of former consultants, each on his or her plinth. By the time they reached their destination she was beginning to regret ever having come; the place overawed her, and even the atmosphere—composed of a chilly dampness, old age and a faint hint of Jeyes fluid—was off-putting.
But she had no time to change her mind; the clerk tapped on a door, opened it and ushered her briskly inside.
The room was small, dark, and overcrowded by a vast desk bearing a large quantity of papers, two telephones and a tabby cat. Behind the desk sat the lady she had come to sees—formidable in appearance, with a vast bosom straining against her severe dress and severe hairstyle, but she had a kind face and she was smiling. Katherine took heart and advanced a step or two.
‘Sit down, Miss Marsh. Dr Fitzroy has told me all about you, and I think that the best thing is for you to come here and work for a month and see if you like the job. I must warn you that it’s hard work; we’re short of staff and you may find the routine boring. Your salary...’ She refreshed her memory from the papers before her, then mentioned a sum which seemed magnificent to Katherine. ‘Of course, we don’t usually take girls like this, but Dr Fitzroy recommends you highly, and we really are desperate.’ She bent forward to stroke the cat. ‘Do you need time to think it over?’
‘No, thank you. I do need work badly, and Dr Fitzroy seemed to think that I might do. I’ll come when you want me to.’
‘Good. There will be forms to fill in and so on. Perhaps you could do that on your way out—reception will tell you where to go, and shall we say the day after tomorrow? I will let you know where to report for duty and at what time. You do understand that nothing is binding for the first month? You can leave with a week’s notice on either side.’ She nodded majestically and Katherine got up, put her chair tidily back against the wall and made her way back to the reception desk. Her head full of directions, she went off again to find the office where she was to fill in the forms; she got lost once or twice, and it was considerably later by the time she was ready to leave. She was making her way rather uncertainly along a narrow passage when she ran full tilt into Dr Fitzroy.
He put out a hand to steady her, remarking, ‘Ah, there you are. Everything settled?’
‘Yes, thank you. I’ve just filled in lots of forms...’
He said kindly, ‘Splendid! I asked my housekeeper if her sister had any rooms to let. She has; if you’d like to call round there she will fix you up—unless you want to live in the hospital?’
‘Oh, I’d love a room of my own.’
‘Yes, well, here’s the address.’ He fished out a pen and a notebook and scribbled in it, tore out the page and gave it to her. ‘Say that I sent you. Let me know if you need any help.’
He nodded, and she could see that he was already thinking about something else. She murmured, ‘Thank you,’ and moved away to be stopped by his, ‘How are you off for money? Did the Graingers pay you? Have you enough to see you through until pay day?’
‘Yes, thank you
.’
His ‘Good, good,’ was uttered in an absent-minded fashion, and his smile was vague, even though kind. She watched him stride off, vowing to herself that never, never would she ask+him for help. He had been kind, and offered practical help when she needed it, but she wasn’t going to make a nuisance of herself. She watched lovingly until he had gone, and then took herself out of the hospital and into the streets, intent on finding the address he had given her.
It was a small, neat house, in a row of similar dwellings quite close to the cathedral, although the narrow little street was quiet. She knocked on the door and a cosy, middle-aged woman opened it. Before Katherine could speak, she said, ‘You’ll be the young lady Dr Fitzroy told me about. Come in out from the cold and I’ll show you the room.’
She led the way upstairs, talking over her shoulder as she went. On the landing, she said apologetically, ‘It’s on the top floor—used to be an attic, but I had it done up a bit, and there’s a lovely view...’
It was quite large, with a sloping ceiling and a dormer window overlooking the nearby close. The furniture was simple but comfortable, and the floor was carpeted. There was a washbasin in one corner and a small gas fire, and in the opposite corner an old-fashioned gas cooker with two rings and a grill, and above it shelves neatly stacked with china and a few pots and pans.
‘You can have a hot meal downstairs, but get your own breakfast here. Bathroom’s downstairs and there’s always plenty of hot water.’
She studied Katherine’s face. ‘Going to work at the hospital, are you, miss? Nursing aide? You’ll not be earning all that much, then?’ She named the rent and added, ‘That’ll include a good hot meal, baths and the use of the washing machine once a week. There’s an iron when you need it, just as long as you ask first. There’s only three others here—two elderly ladies, and a lady clerk from the post office.’
‘Oh, I’ll take it, Mrs...?’
‘Mrs Potts. Mr Potts passed on two years ago.’
‘I think it’s very nice here, Mrs Potts, and I’d like to rent the room. Do you want a month’s rent now?’
‘A week only, and a week’s notice on either side. When do you want to come?’
‘Tomorrow? In the afternoon?’ As they went back downstairs, she said, ‘I’m not sure, but I believe I have to do night duty from time to time.’
‘I’ll give you a key, and you can come and go as you please.’ Mrs Potts eyed her severely. T only let to the decent sort of person I can trust with the door key.’
Katherine handed over a week’s rent, and took herself back to the Graingers’ house to take a substantial tea with Mrs Dowling and speculate over her future.
The next day, she bade Mrs Dowling goodbye with some regret; they had become not exactly friends, but at least they respected each other, and Mrs Dowling had been grudgingly grateful for the running to and fro Katherine had done for her. Bidden to have tea with the housekeeper when she was free, Katherine agreed; she had made no friends since she had been in Salisbury, but until now she hadn’t had much time for that. Now she felt rather lonely. But not for long, she told herself bracingly, there would be other girls like herself working in the hospital.
It wasn’t far to Mrs Potts’, but her cases were heavy; she was glad to put them down on the doorstep and ring the bell. Mrs Potts opened the door, helped her upstairs with the cases, told her that there was tea in the pot downstairs, pointed out that a fifty-pence piece would provide her with warmth from the gas fire, and left her to look around her new home.
There had been a letter from the hospital that morning, telling her to report for work at eight o’clock in the morning. She was to go first to the office, where someone would take her to collect her uniform and show her the ward she was to work on. She had gone straight out and bought a cheap alarm clock, and carefully calculated how long it would take her to walk to the hospital. There was a back way through a car park which would save a lot of time. She had bought tea and a loaf and butter, too, and perhaps Mrs Potts could get the milkman to leave her some milk... She tapped on the kitchen door and went in.
Mrs Potts sat her down at the table, poured her a cup of tea and pressed a plate of scones upon her. ‘There’s supper at eight o’clock,’ she explained. ‘We have it here. I’ve put a jug of milk on the side for you. You’ve got some groceries?’
Katherine said thank you, she had, but she would be glad if she could have milk delivered, and added, ‘I have to be at the hospital at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. They didn’t say how long I would be working.’
‘If you’re not back by supper time, which I doubt, I’ll keep something hot for you. Now, you go and unpack, and come down sharp at eight o’clock. We sit down punctually.’
Katherine unpacked, set her brushes and comb and modest make-up on the dressing-table under the window, hung her scanty wardrobe in the cupboard at one end of the room, arranged the photos of her parents on the narrow little mantelshelf, and sat down on the bed to survey her surroundings.
With the gas fire lit, it looked quite cosy, and on pay day she promised herself she would go to Wool-worth’s and buy a pretty table lamp. She had been lucky, she reflected; she had a job, a room of her own and more money than she had had for some years. Life wasn’t going to be quite as comfortable as it had been with the Graingers, but a great deal better than it had been with her brother...
At eight o’clock she went downstairs, where she met her fellow lodgers. The elderly ladies greeted her politely; Miss Fish and Mrs Dunster, they looked rather alike—faded, genteel and faintly suspicious of her. Miss Kendall, on the other hand, shook hands firmly, declared that it would be pleasant to have someone of her own age in the house, and begged Katherine to call her Shirley. She was a big girl, excessively jolly, who had very little to say to her fellow lodgers, just as it was obvious to Katherine that they had very little to say to her. It was Mrs Potts who, as it were, leavened the dough, keeping up a cheerful conversation first with one side and then the other, so that, even though they didn’t actually address each other, they appeared to do so. Katherine was seized upon almost at once as a kind of go-between, with the two elderly ladies plying her with guarded questions as to her family and her work, and Shirley drowning their mild remarks with questions of her own, while Mrs Potts filled in the pauses with some prosaic remark about the weather.
The food was excellent; Mrs Potts was a super cook, and her steak and kidney pudding, followed by apple tart and custard, bore witness to that. Katherine hadn’t realised that she was so hungry, and sat back with a satisfied sigh as Mrs Potts put the teapot on the table and handed round cups of strong tea. She had just finished hers when Mrs Potts went to answer the doorbell, and came back almost at once.
‘For you, Miss Marsh. Dr Fitzroy—I’ve put him in the front room.’
A forbidding apartment, seldom used except for interviewing lodgers, sitting in on Sunday afternoons and entertaining guests. Katherine went down the narrow hall and opened the door. The doctor was standing before the curtained window, looking very large and excessively tall. He turned round as she went in and his ‘Hello, Katherine’ was friendly. ‘Having suggested that you should come here, I felt it my duty to come and see if you are comfortable,’ he explained, and gave her a kindly smile.
She stood just inside the door, her heart beating a great deal too fast, trying to keep her breathing at a normal rate. He might have come from a sense of obligation, but at least he had come. She beamed at him widely.
‘That’s awfully kind of you, Dr Fitzroy. I’m very happy with everything here. I’ve a lovely room, and Mrs Potts is so kind and the food is super.’
‘Good. You know where you have to go tomorrow?’
‘I had a letter from the hospital. I’m—I’m very grateful to you for all you’ve done. You have no idea how marvellous it is to have a job and so much money, and also somewhere to live...’ She added in her quiet voice, ‘I’ll work hard, I promise you, and not let you down.’
She gave him an astonished look. ‘But I’m not trained for anything, and if it hadn’t been for you I wouldn’t have this job. Please don’t worry about me; I shall do very well, and I really am happy.’
Well, not happy, she told herself silently; how could one be happy when one loved a man and knew that he would never feel the least urge to love one in return? Their paths through life were widely separated, and she must never forget that.
He made a small gesture, and she felt that he was impatient to be gone. ‘It was kind of you to call,’ she said briskly, ‘and if I need help I’ll let you know, but I’m quite sure I’ll be all right.’
She held out her hand, and he shook it and went on holding it. ‘You’re rather small,’ he observed.
‘But tough.’ She pulled her hand gently to free it, and found it clasped more tightly...
When he bent and gently kissed her cheek, she held her breath. Before she could think of anything to say he had gone, his goodbye echoing from the closing door.
She went back to the kitchen presently and drank her cooling tea, helped to clear the table and then went up to her room. He hadn’t meant anything by the kiss, she knew that, but it had unsettled her. She undressed, went down to the landing below, had a bath and then climbed into bed. She had a lot to think about, but she went to sleep at once, her head full of Dr Fitzroy.
Chapter 5
The hospital, when Katherine reached it the next morning, was a subdued hive of activity. She was whisked from reception to the office, handed over to a stern-featured lady in a white overall, and fitted out with her uniform: biscuit-coloured stripes, an armful of aprons and several thick paper caps. She was told to change and, while she did so, the stern lady made up a cap for her. The uniform didn’t fit very well, there seemed to be a good deal of extra material everywhere. Katherine gathered it into the striped belt and pinned a cap on her head. Her mentor shook her head in a despairing way, and led her up and down a vast number of corridors before pushing open swing doors. ‘You’re to work here,’ she said, and went away.