She put the paper down on top of my own handwritten sheaf.
“Now, I cannot give you that ninety per cent. Which means that you will not be awarded the Royal Gold Medal, even though your papers are very good – very good indeed.”
“Why not?” My lips felt stiff, almost to stiff to move. I spoke, and my voice was harsh. “Was it something about the inquest?”
She seemed not to notice the peremptory note in my question.
“The post mortem showed that the man died as a result of his injuries, exacerbated by the fact that an artery repair during the decompression had broken down, causing further bleeding. When Mr Chester was asked to give an account of the operation, he said that the repair had broken down because he was given, during the course of the operation, the wrong suture material. He said that the nurse taking the case was inexperienced, and blamed her inexperience for the fact that he was compelled to use that wrong suture material.” She spoke in a level voice.
I felt my face flame, then whiten as the full impact of her words hit me.
“But – Nurse Davies brought the right suture in the end, and he used it. Didn’t he tell the coroner that?” I said wonderingly. “Surely he told the coroner that?”
She looked straight at me, and then she said, “No, Nurse Gardner. He didn’t. The coroner recorded a verdict of death by misadventure, exonerating Mr Chester of any suggestion of negligence during the course of the operation. However, he added a rider to the effect that the hospital was at fault in permitting a nurse lacking sufficient experience to assist at such a major operation. That is why the committee is to hold its own enquiry. You are to attend that enquiry to explain what happened.” She put her hand out towards me for a moment, and then dropped it. “This won’t be easy for you, my dear. I’m sorry.”
But I hardly heard her.
“He put the blame on me. On me.” I looked up at her, and my voice became shrill suddenly. “How could he? He said it was all right – that I shouldn’t worry, that I’d done quite well, and I had nothing to blame myself for. And then he says that in court – “
Matron didn’t speak for a moment, coming round the desk to stand in front of me and put her hands on my shoulders.
“Do you care about this man?” she asked gently, after a long pause.
I nodded, my throat too constricted to say a word.
“You poor child. He – isn’t worth it, my dear. Don’t you see that?”
“It must be a mistake,” I cried, looking up into her face piteously. “It must be. He couldn’t really have done that to me – to use me as a scapegoat for something that wasn’t really my fault. He must have told the coroner I gave him the silks in the end, he must have!”
“He didn’t, I’m afraid. He made quite sure that no blame could be attached to him for what happened. I saw him last night.” She sighed sharply. “I told him then what his comments at the inquest might mean to you, and he told me that he was in the running for a senior post. He said he couldn’t risk being blamed for a death, and that it wouldn’t make much difference to you because he had told the truth. You aren’t qualified yet, and no court can do anything to you directly – only censure the hospital that employs you.”
I sat staring at the window. “No difference. No difference to me.” Tears started to run, unheeded, down my face. “He must have realized I’d lose the medal – and I told him how much it meant to me. No difference – “
“I told him about the results, too, my dear, and that this would mean that you would lose the medal, even though you had earned it.” She bit her lip, her eyes full of sympathy. “He shrugged his shoulders and said it couldn’t be helped.”
She put a handkerchief into my hand, and I scrubbed at my eyes, feeling them hot and sandy under the cool poplin.
“I wish I could help, Nurse Gardner, really I do. But I can’t. When a person is as emotionally involved as you, no one can help at all. You have to sort these things out for yourself. I’m sorrier than I can say that you have had to learn this so painfully.”
She picked up the exam results again. “You deserve the Gold Medal, and I would have been very happy to see you get it. But I doubt whether you will even be allowed to have your hospital certificate after this. The committee – “ She shook her head angrily. “I’ve already discussed this with the Chairman, and he made it quite clear that he expected me to be overruled. The members feel that you should have asked for help that night. As you didn’t, and the hospital was castigated by the coroner, they will never permit me to award you the marks I would like to.”
“I didn’t know the committee was so powerful,” I said dully.
“Nurses rarely do know,” Matron said. “But I am subject to their jurisdiction, just as you are subject to mine. And in this case I am helpless.”
I stood up suddenly. It was almost as though I were another person, I felt so calm and controlled. My skin felt tight-stretched across my cheekbones, and my eyes smarted slightly still. I tightened my mouth, and looked at Matron.
“When is the enquiry to be, Matron?”
“There will be an extraordinary committee meeting this afternoon, Nurse. At two o’clock.”
“I see. Shall I go on duty until then?”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes please, Matron.” My voice cracked for a moment, and then recovered. “I’d go mad alone in my room.”
“Very well, Nurse. Report here to my office at a quarter to two. I will take you to the meeting.”
“Thank you, Matron,” I said, half turning to the door. Then I essayed a slight smile, “I’ve let you down after all, haven’t I? I’m sorry – “
She shook her head, smiling gently.
“No, my dear. This wasn’t something you could help. I know that. I know what it’s like to be so desperately – concerned – about a man.” Her eyes seemed to look through me to a place way behind us in time. “I know how one’s judgement is altered, how one does things one wouldn’t normally do – how one takes on the ideas and attitudes of that man as though they were one’s own – “ She shook her head slightly, and returned to the present. “So I know that you yourself didn’t let me down. I know, too, that you were really trying to be kinder. There was a woman in the anaesthetic room on your first day in theatre – you talked to her – do you remember?”
I thought for a moment, with a little difficulty, and then nodded, surprised. Matron seemed to know everything that happened at the Royal.
“I spoke to her in the ward the day after her operation, and she told me about the theatre nurse who held her hand when she was so frightened. Yes, I know you were trying.”
“I’m glad,” I said thickly. “I wanted to be – the sort of nurse the Royal turns out – “
“Even without the medal or your hospital certificate, I think you will be that, Nurse Gardner. Indeed, I am sure you will.”
I turned and ran. If she had been angry, I could have borne it better. But this kindness, this understanding, was too much for me. I felt as though I had been whipped, and the balm of Matron’s gentleness made the weals sting more instead of less.
The morning passed in a sort of haze. I went through the work in the theatre like an automaton. Sister took one look at my face, and sent me to work in the sterilizing room, asking no questions.
I was glad to be there among the hissing monsters of sterilizers, busy but not needing to concentrate. All I had to do was scrub instruments and fill and unload the sterilizers. And even this evidence of kindness from a woman who could be as hard as nails, hurt me. I felt quite dead – yet still capable of feeling pain.
The committee meeting, too, seemed enveloped in a dull haze. I was escorted into the big room by Matron, and given a chair at the head of the table, while she went quietly round to take her own seat. Twenty pairs of eyes, hostile, curious eyes, seemed to bore into me.
I answered their questions baldly, making no attempt to gild any of the facts, or put what happened in a less ugly light.
<
br /> “You knew Theatre Sister was in her room that night, even though she was off duty?”
“Yes, Nurse Davies told me so.”
“Then why did you not ask her for help with the case? You realized it would be a difficult one?”
“Yes, I knew. But I wanted to take it myself.”
“Why?”
“I thought I could manage,” I said lamely. How could I say, “Because I wanted to see Peter. Because I love Peter”?
The questions went on and on. Why were there no silks on the trolley? What had Mr Chester said and done when I told him there were none available? What had he used instead?
Matron’s high voice cut across at this point.
“Mr Chairman,” she said clearly. “When I questioned Nurse Gardner, she told me that Mr Chester was given the correct suture eventually. I have her written statement here. You will see what happened if you read this section.” She handed the papers across the table to him.
Mr Chairman swung his chair round and stared at her.
“Eh – what’s that, Matron? That didn’t come out at the inquest!” He ruffled through the papers and started to read what I had written.
“No,” Matron said levelly. “It did not. But it is true, none the less. I checked the point with Nurse Davies and the maternity ward Sister this morning.”
The Chairman turned back to me. “Why did you not tell us that yourself, Nurse?” his voice kinder than it had been.
“Would it have made much difference?” I asked dully. “The man is dead. It just – doesn’t seem to matter any more – “ Nothing matters any more, I thought. Not since Peter –
“Hrmph!” He blew his nose into a big white handkerchief. “Well, this makes a difference as far as I am concerned, certainly. We’d better discuss this. Will you wait outside, Nurse?”
I sat erect on the big chair outside the door, my hands folded primly on the upturned corners of my apron, hearing the muffled hum of their voices beyond it, wondering what they were saying.
Somehow, though, I couldn’t believe that what was happening really affected me. My mind was full of Peter, and what he had said – or not said – at the inquest. I still couldn’t believe that he had done this to me. I wouldn’t believe it until I had spoken to him myself, and heard his explanation. No matter what Matron said, I loved him. I had to know what was behind it all before I could doubt him.
Perhaps, I thought suddenly, lifting my head to stare down the corridor, wide eyed and unseeing, perhaps he said it would make no difference to me, because he was going to ask me to marry him. Could it be that? Because if I married him, I would give up nursing, and be Mrs Peter Chester, not Miss Gardner, S.R.N.
If that were what he planned, he would think that I, too, would think it more important that he be absolved of any blame, so that he could get the senior post he wanted, than that I should get the Gold Medal.
Some of the sick numbness evaporated. It must be that, I told myself. He could never have done such a thing otherwise.
The opening of the boardroom door pulled me to my feet. I walked back to my chair by the big table, and stood there looking at the twenty faces that had been so hostile when I first saw them. Now, however, they seemed friendlier –
The Chairman cleared his throat. “Under the circumstances, Nurse, we feel that it would be unjust to deprive you of your hospital certificate. You were certainly foolish, and took too much upon yourself, but the facts that emerged at the inquest were not the full ones. Now that we know you did, in fact, supply Mr Chester with the correct suture – “
“It was really Nurse Davies who brought them,” I interrupted.
“Quite so – quite so. As I was saying, now we know that Mr Chester was given the right suture eventually, we feel that you cannot be blamed for the outcome of the operation in any way. Matron tells us that you have excellent results in your hospital examinations. We cannot, I am afraid, accept her recommendation that you should be awarded the Gold Medal, but you will still receive your hospital certificate, and that, I am sure you will agree, is important in its own right. And we wish you every success in the future, m’dear.” He coughed, and looked shy, suddenly.
“We feel that you have been unkindly served by one of the medical staff, who should, in fact, have protected you. A nurse is very vulnerable in this sort of situation, and Mr Chester seems to have ignored that fact. Still, it is not for us to castigate him here. We intend, however, to report the results of this enquiry to the medical committee, and ask them to deal with him. He didn’t tell everything he should have told at that inquest, and – “ his voice became gruff. “He isn’t going to get away with it! Hrmph. That’s all m’dear.”
When they had gone, Matron was still sitting at her place at the table, smiling at me.
“I’m very glad you won’t lose your hospital certificate, Nurse. That would have been – sad.”
“Thank you, Matron,” I said, shakily.
“I’m very sorry about the medal, however, You should – oh, well, what’s done is done, I suppose.”
“Matron – “ I was uncertain. “Perhaps – Mr Chester wasn’t entirely wrong in blaming me – I mean there may be a reason. Can you – could you persuade the Chairman not to report him to the medical committee – just yet?”
She looked at me. Then she said, softly, “You still feel – well disposed towards him?”
“He may have a reason,” I said stubbornly. “I must see him – to find out.”
She stood up. “I suppose you will have to see him yourself, as you say. But whether I can persuade the committee – “
“Please, Matron.” I twisted my hands together miserably. “Please. Let me see him first.”
She sighed sharply. “Very well. I’ll try. But don’t expect too much from them. The Chairman feels you have been badly treated by Mr Chester.”
“But you’ll explain?”
“Yes. I’ll explain.”
I went back to the theatre feeling a little better. I was miserable enough about the Gold Medal – I felt sick as I suddenly remembered Susan and the party, and the cake – but perhaps all this was the dark before the dawn. Perhaps it was as I thought – that Peter wanted to marry me. There was still the weekend at his parents’ cottage to remember.
But I couldn’t wait until then. I had to see him before that – I had to. I would go up to the common room this evening, I decided. Peter would explain then.
When I came off duty, Chick was in my room.
“What happened?” she asked. “The hospital’s buzzing with talk – about the inquest, and the committee enquiry, and you being there. What’s up?”
I didn’t really want to talk about it, but Chick was adamant. So I sat on my bed and told her everything. She listened without interrupting.
When I’d finished, she said, “I see. What are you going to do now? About Peter?”
“I’m going to see him tonight – somehow. I must. Chick – “ I sat down again and leaned towards her. “Chick – I think perhaps he did it for a reason? I mean – if he’s planning to ask me to marry him? Do you think maybe it’s that?”
“All the more reason to tell the truth, I should have thought,” Chick said gruffly.
I shook my head, and tried to explain my reasoning as I sat outside the boardroom.
When I had finished, she said doubtfully, “You could be right, I suppose. I hope you are, for you own sake, But – “
She didn’t finish her sentence, because I jumped up and started to change.
“I’m going over there to the common room,” I said over my shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be there. You’ll see. I know I’m right.”
“I’ll be in all evening,” Chick said non-committally. “I’ll wait for you when you come back.”
I put on my prettiest dress, and applied my make-up with meticulous care, although my fingers shook as I did so. Then I walked across the courtyard to the hospital.
Peter’s car was parked in its usual place, and I s
ighed with relief. He was in. In spite of my assured way of speaking to Chick, I hadn’t been really certain.
The corridor was quiet as I walked towards the doctors’ common room. Then as the maid, carrying a trayload of coffee cups, came out of the door, a burst of noisy conversation came out with her, together with a gust of hot smoky air.
The common room was obviously full of people tonight, and my will failed for a moment. I would have to run the gamut of stares from a room full of doctors before I found Peter. Then I would have to ask him to come outside, so that we could talk. But it had to be done, and straightening my shoulders, I put my hand on the knob, and pushed the door open.
The room was certainly full. Some of the doctors had guests and the uproar of conversation and laughter made me feel momentarily giddy.
I loked across the crowded room, my eyes travelling from group to group. Then I saw him.
He was sitting on the arm of a worn brown armchair, leaning over to speak to the occupant of the chair. A girl. Pretty, with long fair hair rather like my own. As I looked, she threw her head back, and laughed at something Peter said, her long throat making a lovely line from her chin to the wide neckline of her red dress. At the sound of her laughter, I was back once again in the Nurses’ garden, the night I had returned from sick leave. It was the same trilling peal of laughter I had heard then. I couldn’t mistake it.
Suddenly, Peter looked up, and our eyes met across the room. Then he leaned down and spoke to the girl at his side. She looked up at me too, and put her hand on his arm as she answered him.
Then Peter got up, and came over to the door where I stood still and erect.
“Hello, Avril,” he said, easily, his voice warm and friendly. His eyes crinkled in the way I loved. “Are you looking for me?”
Final Year Page 17