by Neels, Betty
It was very nearly time for her to go off duty that evening when she ran full-tilt into the doctor as she was on her way to the ward with some X-rays. She had expected that he would pass her with a brief nod, or even no greeting at all, but he stopped beside her.
‘Katherine!’ His voice was sharp. ‘Why are you looking like that? What’s worrying you?’
Naturally she said ‘nothing’, which was a waste of time, for he gave an impatient grunt and said, ‘Don’t waste time. I’m busy and so are you.’
She saw at once that she wasn’t going to get away without answering him. ‘My brother—he found out that I was here—I saw him this morning, he wants me to go back because Joyce isn’t well. I said I wouldn’t—and he was annoyed.’
His blue eyes studied her worried face. ‘There’s not much he can do then, is there? You’re not afraid of him?’
She gave a surprised look. ‘Heavens, no! But he upsets me.’
‘A pity I have an engagement this evening. We might have discussed the matter.’ He went on smoothly, watching her face. ‘I have a date with Dodie.’
She had to say something, even if it was inane, ‘Well, yes, I expect you have. I won’t keep you, she hates to be kept waiting.’
‘Yes, she does. Now, / could wait for ever for something or someone I wanted.’ Without altering his voice in any way, he added, ‘Is this the right moment for a proposal, Katie?’
She gave him a startled look and, quite bewildered by his serious face, flew away from him, not slowing her pace until she had put a corner of the corridor between them.
When her days off came, she spent them pottering around the shops, giving Mrs Potts a helping hand from time to time and walking in the cathedral grounds. She had managed to dispel the unwelcome meeting with Henry from her mind; Jason had said that there was nothing her brother could do, and she accepted that with relief. She did her best not to think about Jason, although she wasn’t very successful. On the whole, she was glad to go back to work in the morning.
She had just finished bed-bathing a testy old gentleman with a badly injured arm and a nasty temper when Andy came bounding up the ward.
‘Matron says you are to go to her office at once,’ she breathed. ‘Have you done something awful?’
Katherine eased her patient into his pyjama jacket and buttoned it up. ‘Me? No.’
‘Perhaps she’s going to ask you if you would like to do your training?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t have thought so. Am I tidy?’
‘Good enough. Your nose is shining, but Matron approves of that, anyway.’
Katherine made her way down to the office, knocked on the door and was bidden to enter.
Matron sat at her desk, severe, outsized authority, but with no sign of annoyance upon her regular features. ‘Ah, Miss Marsh...’ She paused at the look on Katherine’s face as she saw Henry standing away from the desk, watching her. ‘As you see, your brother is here to beg me to release you from your duties, so that you may return with him to look after his wife. I understand that she is gravely ill with anaemia.’
Clever Henry! He had her in a tight corner, but Katherine did her best.
‘I think that my brother would do better to get a nurse to look after my sister-in-law. We don’t get on very well, and a stranger is often more suitable. Or what about getting her into hospital if she is so ill?’
Matron looked shocked. ‘There is, of course, that alternative, but I should have thought that a member of the family, very able to undertake nursing duties, would have been an ideal arrangement.’ She paused and, since Katherine said nothing, added, ‘Well, might it be a good idea if you were to go with your brother for a day or so and see how things are? If Mrs Marsh is seriously ill, I have no doubt she will be admitted as a patient, and you will be free to return to your duties here.’
‘No, I won’t,’ Katherine said desperately. ‘I shall be expected to stay and look after the two children and run the house.’
Matron cast a glance at Henry, standing silent with a resigned look upon his face. Katherine looked at him, too; the two-faced villain!
‘I can’t force you,’ he uttered in a sad voice, and he smiled wistfully.
‘I really think that you should go, Miss Marsh. Change into your own clothes and go straight back with your brother. No doubt you can collect a few necessities later on from your lodgings. At least go and see if you are needed.’
Of course she would be needed, thought Katherine furiously. There would be the washing and the ironing and cooking and the children, as well as Joyce. Perhaps she really was ill, though. She would have to go, even if it was only for a day or so, while Henry made other arrangements.
She said, ‘Very well, Matron,’ and, to Henry, ‘I’ll be outside in ten minutes.’
‘God bless you, my dear,’ said Henry. He sounded thankful, but she could see the small, self-satisfied smirk on his face.
She went back to the ward, and found Andy in the sluice. ‘I have to go back with my brother; he says his wife is very ill. I don’t want to go, Andy, but I can’t get out of it. If anyone wants to know where I am, will you tell them? And could you please phone Mrs Potts and tell her I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll explain later.’
She went to the office and reported to Sister, who said crossly, ‘I find it very annoying that my staff should be taken from me in this arbitrary manner. Kindly return as quickly as possible, Miss Marsh.’
Katherine got into her clothes, hung her uniform neatly in her locker and went the long way round to the entrance in the hope of seeing Jason. But she didn’t see him, although he saw her, standing at a ward window looking out on to the forecourt. Now why, he reflected, should Katie be getting into a car and leaving the hospital when she was supposed to be on duty? He went back to his round, setting aside his thoughts of her until he had finished it, had coffee with the ward sister, given a multitude of instructions to his registrar and gone to the consultants’ room, where he sat down and pondered about what he had seen. Presently, he went over to the telephone and rang Mrs Potts, and got scant satisfaction there. After a moment, he got up and went to the surgical block. On the men’s ward, his polite request to have a few words with the nursing auxiliary known as Andy met with Sister’s lifted eyebrows and a cold assent. He ignored both, and strolled down the ward to where Andy was taking round the dinner trays.
‘A word with you, if you please.’
His quiet voice caused her to rattle the knives and forks in her hands. ‘Me? You want to talk to me, sir?’
‘Indeed I do. I hope you may be able to help me— er—Andy. Why has Katherine left the hospital?’
‘She didn’t say much, there wasn’t time, but she asked me to tell anyone who asked that she had had to go to her brother because his wife was very ill. I suppose it would be to his house, but I don’t know. She didn’t want to go. Matron sent for her.’
Dr Fitzroy leaned his length against the end of an empty bed. ‘Ah—you have been most helpful, Andy. I am indebted to you.’
He gave her a charming smile and left her with a head swarming with any number of exciting thoughts.
Dr Fitzroy went back to the consultants’ room and picked up the telephone once more, dialled a number and, when someone answered, said, ‘Dick, you have almost everyone along the Wylye Valley, haven’t you? Would you check on one of your patients for me?’
He listened without interrupting, uttered his thanks and put down the receiver, glanced at his watch and sighed. He had two new patients to see on women’s medical, and then an out-patient clinic starting at one o’clock. He stood thinking for a long minute, and then picked up the telephone and dialled once more. ‘Mrs Spooner? Can you contrive a meal which can be dished up at any moment this evening? And I shall have a guest.’
He listened to his housekeeper patiently while she rearranged his dinner out loud. ‘That sounds splendid, Mrs Spooner.’ He rang off and made his way, placidly, unhurriedly, to the medical wing.
/> ‘What exactly is wrong with Joyce?’ asked Katherine as Henry drove out of the hospital forecourt.
Henry chuckled. ‘You heard what I described to Matron.’
‘Yes. Is she in bed? And if she’s so ill, why isn’t she in hospital having treatment? And if she’s at home, why haven’t you got any help? You can afford it, Henry.’
He blustered a little. ‘Why should I pay a woman to do the work you can do? You are my sister, you owe me something. Besides, Joyce is delicate.’
‘What?’ Katherine was trying to keep calm, and finding it very difficult. ‘Joyce—delicate? What utter rubbish, Henry! She’s always been lazy, and so have you.’ She heard Henry gobbling with rage beside her, but her new-found independence had given her the courage to voice her opinion. ‘It seems that I have no option but to come with you, but I warn you that I don’t intend to stay. If Joyce is as ill as you made her out to be, then the best thing you can do is to get her to hospital and get some help in the house. And if she isn’t ill, then I shall go straight back to work.’
He said sulkily, ‘Well, you can find out for yourself.’
A remark which left her in sudden doubt; perhaps Joyce was really ill, in which case common humanity would force her to stay. Her spirits sank as they stopped outside the gate.
Joyce was in the sitting-room, standing before the nice mirror over the fireplace, putting on lipstick with care. She turned around as Katherine went in. ‘Oh, good—it worked. Clever Henry! I’m off to the pub to have drinks with a few friends. You’ll find food for the children in the fridge.’
‘You’re not ill,’ said Katherine slowly.
Her sister-in-law turned on her in sudden fury. ‘Of course I’m not—just bored to tears with nothing but the house and children and Mrs Todd away. Why shouldn’t you have your share of cooking and cleaning?’
Katherine held on to her temper with an effort. ‘I had my share,’ she said quietly, ‘and now I’m going straight back to my job.’ But as she said it she heard the car door bang and Henry driving away. She said steadily, ‘There is a bus in the late afternoon. I shall go back on that, and don’t try and stop me, Joyce. Where are the children?’
Joyce shrugged. ‘Upstairs, I suppose. Thank God they’ll be going back to school in a few days—there has been ‘flu or something, and they’ve had an extra week. I’m off.’
‘You weren’t going to leave the children on their own, were you?’ asked Katherine.
‘Of course not. Knew you’d come, you’re a gullible little fool.’ She laughed. ‘What’s known as a soft touch. And don’t tell me you’re going back now. Your pious conscience wouldn’t allow you to do that, would it?’
Katherine turned on her heel and went upstairs. If she had stayed a moment longer, she would have thrown something at Joyce. She had no choice but to stay until she could get the bus just after five o’clock; she must make the best of it.
The children were strangely quiet in a nursery which sadly needed a good clean. She got them to wash their hands and faces, made their beds and tidied the room before going downstairs with them. Joyce had gone, and the kitchen bore evidence of her neglect. The breakfast things were still on the table, and the stove was a clutter of pots and pans.
‘Hungry?’ asked Katherine, and saw the children’s faces light up. She gave them biscuits while she did a lightning clean up, opened cans and made toast and fed them, then settled them to play at the table. There was no sign of Joyce, so she loaded the washing machine and set it going, and then laid one end of the table for the children’s tea. The afternoon was waning, and she saw with something like despair the clock hands creeping round to five. There was still no Joyce when she heard the bus go lumbering past.
It was almost an hour later, as the children were finishing their tea, that Joyce came back. She stood in the doorway, laughing. ‘Missed the bus?’ she wanted to know. ‘Now you’ll have to stay the night, won’t you? And don’t expect Henry to drive you back, he’s going to some meeting or other, and won’t be back until late.’ She came further into the kitchen. ‘The children have had their tea? Good. I’m very tired, perhaps you’ll see them into their beds.’ She yawned. ‘I think I’ll have a really early night myself. Get yourself some supper, and you might bring me up something later on.’
‘I’ll do no such thing. The children can’t cook for themselves, but you can, Joyce.’ Katherine turned her back and started to clear the table, and after a moment Joyce went away.
Katherine started to wash the dishes. She longed to drop everything, but how could she? The children were tiresome, ill-behaved and ungrateful, but they were children and needed looking after. She sniffed away threatening tears and stacked the plates with unnecessary violence and a good deal of noise. Which was why she didn’t hear the front door bell, nor the voices in the hall. When the kitchen door opened and she turned round to see what Joyce wanted, she saw Jason standing there.
She flung the dishmop into the sink and flew across the kitchen.
‘Jason! Oh, Jason, please take me away!’ She caught at his coat sleeves with soapy hands, and snivelled into his rock-solid chest. ‘The bus went, and I thought I’d have to stay here for ever, and Joyce isn’t ill at all—and Henry went away again before I could stop him.’ She lifted her head to look at him. ‘So sorry,’ she said politely, and sniffed mournfully. She would have taken her hands away, but he caught and held them.
‘I thought you might be here,’ he said calmly. ‘Get your coat, Katie.’
Joyce was standing in the doorway, watching them. Katherine brushed past her, put on her coat and found her handbag. ‘There’s a load of washing in the machine,’ she said and added, ‘Goodbye, children.’
They scarcely looked up, and Joyce said shrilly, ‘You can’t go! I’m ill...’ But she didn’t say any more, for the doctor was looking at her with a detached interest which made nonsense of the words.
He wished her goodnight civilly, nodded to the children and ushered Katherine into the hall and out of the door. As they went down the path, he said casually, ‘Sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I had out-patients.’
He didn’t say any more, and Katherine, unable to think of anything in reply, didn’t answer.
Chapter 9
Jason didn’t speak again, and it wasn’t until he had left Wilton behind and was driving slowly through the outskirts of Salisbury that Katherine said hesitantly, ‘If you would put me down by the station, I can walk through to Mrs Potts...and thank you very much for coming for me. How did you know?’
‘Your friend Andy.’
‘Oh!’ She said worriedly, ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have left the children—perhaps Joyce is ill and didn’t want to say so...’
He gave a crack of laughter. ‘There’s nothing wrong with your sister-in-law, take my word for it. She is perfectly able to look after her own children.’
‘Here’s the station
‘So it is.’ He swept past it. ‘I dare say you had no lunch worth speaking of. I didn’t either. We’ll see what Mrs Spooner has for us.’
She murmured half-heartedly, and he took not the least bit of notice, but drove through the city until they reached the close and his house. ‘I don’t think...’ began Katherine, making no attempt to get out of the car.
For answer, he undid her seat-belt, got out of the car and came round to open her door. When she got out, very reluctantly, he marched her into the house, all without saying a word.
Once inside, he said, ‘Let me have your coat. Ah, here is Mrs Spooner. I expect you want to do your hair, or something of the sort. I’ll be in the sitting-room.’ He walked away with the dogs crowding round him, and she followed Mrs Spooner to the cloakroom. Once ushered inside, she did her best with her hair and face. She saw her reflection with horror in the looking-glass; it was pale and tear-stained and faintly grubby, and her hair was a mess. She looked a little better when she had finished, but not much, and a faint colour washed over her cheeks as she entered the sitting-room and
encountered the doctor’s thoughtful stare.
‘Come and sit down. There will be a meal presently. In the meanwhile, have a glass of sherry and tell me exactly how your brother managed to get you away from your work.’
She explained in her sensible way, keeping strictly to the facts of it and making no bid for his sympathy. ‘I’m sorry I behaved so stupidly when you came,’ she finished. ‘I was so very glad to see you.’
He said lightly, ‘Well, you know the hospital isn’t so well staffed that we can afford to lose even one nursing aide.’
A remark which reminded her who he was and who she was too, and uttered in so friendly a voice that she was unable to take umbrage, although it hurt. She said woodenly, ‘Well, I’m on duty tomorrow, and I was only away for a few hours. Should I go and see Matron in the morning?’
‘I think it might be the right thing to do.’ He got up as Mrs Spooner came to say that the soup was on the table. As they sat down, he said easily, ‘Edward is coming next weekend. I dare say he will want to see something of you.’
‘Well, I’m supposed to be working long days on Saturday and on Sunday, so I don’t think that will be possible.’
‘A pity. He likes you. Do you like him, Katie?’
She spooned the last of her soup. ‘Oh, yes! He’d be a marvellous brother—but you know that, I can remember telling you.’
‘I have a shocking memory,’ observed the doctor mendaciously. ‘I have to recommend this sole. Have some, will you? Mrs Spooner is a marvellous cook.’
The sole was followed by apple pie and cream. Katherine, who had been quite famished, had a second helping at the doctor’s gentle insistence before they went back to the sitting-room for their coffee.
She sighed with pleasure as she poured it; the gadrooned silver coffee-pot, the delicate china cups, set out exactly so on the snowy lace-edged cloth, the little dish of chocolate mints, all added up to an understated elegance which reminded her of her parents’ home, a life-style seeming to her to be part of another world, never to be repeated.