by Betty Neels
Mr van Houben bent to scratch Nep behind the ear and didn’t say a word beyond a brief, ‘Thank you, Fram. I’ll ring when I want you,’ before opening his drawing-room door.
Mevrouw van der Holle was a handsome woman in her late thirties; she had no children and spent a good part of each day keeping middle age at bay. She was skilfully made up and slim to the point of thinness; she dressed very well, too. She came to meet him as he opened the door, smiling charmingly as she offered a hand. ‘Dear Marius—I have taken you quite by surprise? I was driving past and I thought how pleasant it would be if we were to have a drink together and perhaps spend the evening. You were always so good to Jan when he was alive—’ she looked suitably sorrowful ‘—and you are a person to whom I can talk seriously.’
‘How kind of you to say so, Mevrouw van der Holle, and to suggest an evening together. It is my misfortune that I am on my way to the hospital and shall be there for the rest of the evening and probably half the night. I just called in to let Fram know. I do hope he has taken good care of you.’
She pouted very prettily. ‘Oh, yes, but is there no one else who can take over from you? On a Sunday evening, too; it is too bad that an important man like you has to work.’
‘Unfortunately accidents and illness take no account of the time of day.’
He had remained standing and after a few minutes of general talk she had no choice but to leave as gracefully as possible, escorted to her car very civilly by Mr van Houben but without the hoped-for invitation to dinner.
He went back into his house deep in thought. He had, of course, no need to go to the hospital that evening; it had been an excuse made in order to refuse his visitor’s invitation. There was no reason why he shouldn’t have invited her to dinner, which was plainly what she had expected; he knew her only slightly, but she was an amusing companion and it would have passed the evening. He sat down in his chair and Nep, who had retired under a table and growled softly at Mevrouw van der Holle, came and sat beside him.
Mr van Houben bent to stroke him. ‘It is a ridiculous thing, but I find that I prefer to sit here with you and think about Caroline. An absurd situation—we hardly know each other and yet I feel I have known her all my life, and what is unfortunate is the fact that she appears to be perfectly happy with the idea of a future with that young Brewster.’ He sighed. ‘Nevertheless, when I next go to England I shall see her.’ He glanced down at the little dog. ‘Do you consider that I am too old for her, Nep?’
Nep’s short brisk bark was reassuring.
* * *
The last two days of Caroline’s visit passed pleasantly enough; the van Houbens had many friends; there were people to lunch, a picnic on the Monday and a drive along the River Vecht so that she could view its scenery and the old houses along its banks, and in the evening more people came over for drinks, and ample time to play with little Marc. She was glad that she had seen him again, for he had made a splendid recovery and he was happy with Tine. When it was time to say goodbye she went with real regret; she was unlikely to see the van Houbens again, and indeed it seemed to her that Marc should be allowed to forget her—she belonged to a period in his short life which he would remember only vaguely. She would write from time to time, she assured Mevrouw van Houben, and would never forget him or them. She went back to England laden with flowers and parting gifts without anyone once mentioning Marius van Houben, and she hadn’t summoned up enough courage to ask. What would have been the point in doing so anyway? she asked herself.
Casualty was so different from the wards that it took her a few days to adjust to its ways. It was almost always full; old ladies who had tripped up and broken wrists or legs, babies who had been scalded by a carelessly placed teapot or kettle, toddlers who had poked beads up their small noses or into their ears, the victims of street fights when the pubs closed, neglected cuts, boils, poisoned fingers and drunks, and over and above these the street accidents. The nurses were frequently run off their feet, driven remorselessly by the senior sister, middle-aged, and domineering and never at a loss, however awkward the situation. There was a junior sister too, just as efficient but a good deal more pleasant to her staff. As for the nurses, there were several part-time staff nurses as well as two full-time ones and three student nurses, of whom Caroline was the most junior. She knew none of them well; seldom did Sister speak to her; she was sent hither and thither from one patient on to the next, for most of the time not sure what she was doing and, since the other three nurses weren’t disposed to be helpful, muddling along as best she could and going off duty thankfully and wishing heartily that she didn’t need to go back. Airing her grievances with her friends off duty, she was given a good deal of sympathy.
‘We all know how beastly Old Moss can be.’ Old Moss was the Senior Sister. ‘She’s been there for twenty years and can’t imagine life outside Casualty—Sister Taylor’s scared of her and anyway there’s always a rush on down there—no time to be friendly.’ Janey spoke cheerfully. ‘Rush around with everyone else, love, and think about the good time you had in Holland.’
Caroline had been doing that already; not so much thinking about Holland as about Mr van Houben. He would be away from home and she wondered what he was doing. Working in a hospital? Being consulted? Giving lectures to eager students? What exactly would he be doing when he wasn’t doing any of these things? The world, she reflected gloomily, was full of attractive young women, any one of whom would make a splendid wife for an eminent medical man.
‘I wish I’d never met him,’ she muttered as she cleared a dressing trolley, aware that she wished no such thing.
She had been back for a week when she had days off and went to Basing.
Aunt Meg’s solid form looked safe and comforting as she got out of the train at Basingstoke and Caroline almost ran across the platform to hug her.
‘Well, well,’ said that lady bracingly, ‘it’s nice to see you again, love—it seems a long while since you were home, but that’s because you’ve been in Holland.’
She led the way out of the station. ‘There’s a bus in ten minutes; we can just get it, I fancy. Only two days, I suppose? Well, that’s better than nothing, and they say it will be fine and warm for the rest of the week.’ She glanced at Caroline’s rather pale face. ‘You look as though you could do with some fresh air.’
The bus was half empty; the early evening bus had taken the workers home already and those who were staying in Basingstoke for a meal or a film would take the late evening one. Caroline and her aunt sat side by side, not saying much but pleased to be in each other’s company. Something wasn’t quite right, reflected Aunt Meg, and she hoped that Caroline would tell her what it was before she went back to the hospital. She was far too wise to ask.
It was the following evening before Caroline talked about her trip to Holland. It had been a lovely day and now, in the early evening, they were sitting in the garden at the back of the house with Theobald on Aunt Meg’s lap.
‘It was nice to see Marc so well,’ observed Caroline, apropos of nothing much. ‘He seems to have made a complete recovery, and Tine is just right for him.’
‘He remembered you?’
‘Yes—it was just as if I hadn’t been away. I hope he’ll forget me now, though—after all, he’s still only a little boy; in a year or two he will have forgotten his illness, and that will be a good thing.’
‘What about you? Will you forget him, love?’
‘Oh, no. It was an experie
nce, but it has nothing to do with my way of life although I enjoyed it.’
‘The van Houbens will be eternally grateful to you,’ said Aunt Meg in her sensible way. ‘Besides, you will meet Mr van Houben at the hospital from time to time and get news from him, I dare say.’
Caroline said, too quickly, ‘Oh, I am most unlikely to see him again; he wouldn’t come to Casualty, and besides, we—that is…he…’ she sighed ‘…I think he doesn’t like me—he’s always polite and kind but that’s all.’ She added rather wildly, ‘We haven’t anything in common.’
What has that to do with falling in love? reflected Aunt Meg, and made a soothing reply. For that was undoubtedly what was the matter with Caroline; she was of course unable to speak for Mr van Houben, but he had, as far as she knew, remained heart-whole until now and he must have had the opportunity to fall in love a dozen times with the kind of young woman Caroline was not, and apparently he hadn’t. She was an optimistic soul; she gathered up her knitting, begged Theobald to get off her lap and suggested that they went indoors for their supper.
Two days’ peace and quiet in Aunt Meg’s company did a lot to restore Caroline’s good sense; she didn’t like Casualty but she wouldn’t be there forever, and once she had found her feet and didn’t have to keep asking where things were kept she might even enjoy it, and indeed, after another week she was beginning to find that the work was to her liking. There was rarely a leisurely moment while she was on duty and there was no question of finding the work monotonous; she marvelled at the variety of people she encountered during the day’s work and, since she was willing and good-tempered, even Sister Moss forbore from criticising her more than once or twice a day. And once the other nurses realised that she had no interest in the casualty officer they were disposed to be quite friendly.
It was a Sunday evening, half an hour short of going off duty, when a woman came in with three small children. Sister was in her office, Staff Nurse had the weekend off and the two nurses on duty with Caroline had gone to their suppers, for it had been an unusually quiet period and they could be brought back quickly enough in an emergency.
The woman came in slowly, youngish, dressed in bright cheap clothes, her hair badly in need of washing, and heavily made-up. The children were too thin, and ill dressed, and Caroline longed to pop them into a bath and then into bed with nice clean nighties.
She crossed to where the woman was standing. ‘Can I help?’
The woman said belligerently, ‘You’re a nurse, aren’t you? It’s Tracey ’ere. ’Asn’t been too well for a bit; now she’s got a cough and don’t eat—keeps me awake at night, she does—perfect little nuisance.’
None of the children looked particularly healthy but Tracey was easy to spot; she stood between the other two children, holding their hands, her pale face even paler by reason of her red-rimmed eyes, her small nose running.
‘Come into this cubicle,’ suggested Caroline, ‘and I’ll fetch Sister.’ She put Tracey on the couch.
Sister Moss was writing the report and was annoyed at being disturbed, but she put her pen down and went to look at the child.
‘Get her undressed and into a gown,’ she told Caroline, ‘I’ll get the CO down to have a look at her.’
She went away and Caroline began peeling off the few clothes Tracey was wearing. They were very dirty, and she put them into a plastic bag and wrapped the skinny little body in a clean gown. The child would be admitted, she felt sure; her temperature was high and her breathing was far too rapid. Besides that, she had noticed faint brown marks on the child’s body.
The CO, called from his supper, came within five minutes with Sister Moss. Caroline could see that he was tired and on the verge of ill temper and Sister Moss made things worse by stating firmly that Caroline would see to him as she had her report to finish.
The CO gave Caroline an impatient look, although he sounded civil enough. ‘Well, what is it all about?’
Caroline didn’t waste words: temperature, breathing, cough, brown marks and dirt were described in less than a minute as he bent to look at Tracey.
He stood up presently. ‘Broncho-pneumonia and from the look of that ear she’s got a nasty infection there.’ He gave Caroline a quite friendly look. ‘Smart of you to spot the brown marks—we’ll have to admit her. Neglected measles with its complications.’ He turned to the woman, ‘Now, Mrs White—I want to know when Tracey was first ill. Did you call a doctor? And the other children…?’ He glanced at Caroline. ‘Get Sister to admit the child, Nurse. I’d better take a look at these two while they are here. Now, Mrs White…’
Sister Moss was snappy after a long day. She was crosser still when Sister Crump said they couldn’t have the child until they had a side-ward emptied. ‘You’d better clean the child up,’ she told Caroline, ‘and then wait with her until they are ready for her. The night staff nurse will be on duty shortly. Her junior can take over from you.’
So Caroline went back and started to clean up Tracey; it would take several good warm baths to get the child clean but at least she removed the grime from the small face and gently washed as much of her as possible. The child was too ill to cry and Caroline was relieved when the porters came for her. Her mother didn’t go with her; the CO had persuaded her to wait with the other two children until the social worker could come and take them to a hostel. From all accounts the woman was incapable of looking after the children, both of whom were probably harbouring measles too; to let them return to what was almost certainly an unsuitable home was quite out of the question. Caroline thankfully left the social worker dealing with the problem and went off duty at last. She hadn’t been relieved; there had been a road accident in and both nurses were fully occupied.
She had her days off the next weekend and went home thankfully. It had turned warm and Casualty had been busier than ever, so that most of her off duty had been after a day’s work, too late to go to Victoria Park and get a breath of air. She told herself that she would make up for that over the weekend.
Aunt Meg gave her a critical look. ‘You look washed out, love. I don’t think that Casualty does you any good. Can’t you get moved?’
‘Only when they say so. It’s been a bit hot indoors all day; I’ll be fine after a couple of days here.’
However, by Sunday evening she didn’t feel fine despite the hours spent out of doors. All the same, she declared that she felt much better and went back to the hospital, lay wide awake for most of the night with a headache and in the middle of an exceptionally busy morning fell down in an untidy heap, fainting for the first time in her life.
Several of the patients waiting to be seen screamed, Staff Nurse came running and the CO, emerging from one of the cubicles, scooped her up and put her on one of the couches.
She didn’t say, Where am I? when she opened her eyes. ‘So sorry,’ sighed Caroline. ‘So silly. I’m quite all right now.’
She was prevented from saying anything else because Staff Nurse had thrust a thermometer under her tongue. The CO read it. ‘Any headache?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘Sore throat?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded, and, being told to do so, opened her mouth for him to peer inside.
‘Koplik’s spots—you’ve got measles. That child just over a week ago.’ He turned to Staff Nurse. ‘Nurse will have to be warded.’ He looked down at Caroline. ‘Had them as a child?’
‘Yes. But not badly—I was about six years old, I think.’
‘Well, Dr Wrig
ht will look after you.’ Dr Wright was the senior medical consultant. ‘I’ll see Sister. You’ll be as right as rain in a couple of days.’
She didn’t feel well; she was taken to a side-ward on Women’s Medical, helped to undress, and slid thankfully between the sheets to fall into an uneasy sleep at once, only to be roused to take antibiotic pills and be examined by Dr Wright, who was a nice old thing and called her ‘little lady’ despite the fact that she looked like a hag. She went to sleep again and didn’t wake when the SNO came to look at her and, after her, at intervals and without permission, such of her friends as were able to gain access to the ward on some excuse or other.
Corinna heard of it during dinner and, being Corinna went to Women’s Medical, walked boldly into the ward while Sister was in her office and went to look at Caroline. She was asleep still, her long hair loose from its plait, her face shiny with sweat, a blotchy red rash making her pale face seem even paler. Corinna stood looking at her for a minute or so and then, since Sister had just come on to the ward at the far end, went down the fire escape to the ward below where she was working, went to Sister’s office and asked if she might go to her room and change her apron, as a patient had been sick all over it: Sister viewing her apronless person, agreed absent-mindedly, busy writing up patients’ notes.
The nearest phone was in the porter’s lodge and she had always been on good terms with the head porter. Besides, he knew that Mr van Houben was her cousin and was an important man, even if he wasn’t a regular consultant on the hospital staff. Corinna dialed a number and waited until she heard Fram’s voice, when she asked him to fetch Marius.