RING FOR THE NURSE
Marjorie Moore
Felicity Dene had always admired surgeon Guy Brenton’s efficiency, but when an accident made him her patient, Felicity realized she felt more than admiration for him. But she was only his nurse and Guy was engaged to another woman
CHAPTER ONE
It was just one of those days! Everything had gone wrong since the moment Felicity Dene had set foot that morning in John Mason ward. Even Sister Robinson, usually so affable, was suffering from one of her rare moods of irritability and Felicity, as Staff Nurse, had been constrained to bear the brunt of it. To add to the general chaos, two probationers had chosen that particular day to report sick and three emergency admissions had thrown the ward into confusion just at the very time that Matron decided to pay a visit of inspection. Now, to cap it all, someone had left Sister Robinson’s office window wide open and a playful March wind had scattered every paper and document from the desk until the small room looked like a nightmare paperchase. Felicity Dene smothered a sigh as she stooped to retrieve the muddled papers, and with the maddening knowledge that she was already behindhand with her routine jobs she began to sort them out and replace them in their correct order. As she straightened up to answer the sharp ring of the telephone, her voice betrayed her annoyance. “Yes ... yes, John Mason ward. Who is it?”
“Theatre here. Hullo, is that you, Felicity?” Nurse Weste’s tone was calm and laconic. Perhaps her day hadn’t been so upsetting, Felicity mused as she waited for Diana Weste to continue, not that anything ever perturbed Diana. From the day they had both started at St. Edwin’s Hospital as probationers, Diana had remained completely unruffled through all their early difficulties. The very difference in their temperaments had drawn them together and they had become fast friends. Diana Weste had also risen to be a Staff Nurse and although she was now attached to the Theatre while Felicity worked in the Orthopaedic Ward, their work on occasions brought them together.
“Hullo, are you still there? I thought the line had gone dead.”
Diana’s voice came clearly through the receiver. “What’s up with you, is old Robinson’ in the room?”
“No ... I’m just feeling browned off. I didn’t know it was you or I wouldn’t have snapped but I’ve had an awful day. I’m longing to go off but I’m not nearly ready; it’s no use for you to wait supper for me, I’m bound to be late, and since a disastrous visit from Matron this morning old Robinson, as you call her, has been in a flat spin.”
“You think you’re going to be late ... I know you are!” There was suppressed laughter in Diana Weste’s tone. “Theatre Sister told me to ring you and say you’ll have to do a fracture reduction tonight, with your own nurses too, as we haven’t anyone to spare. Brenton’s doing it and he’ll be ready in ten minutes ... you’d better get a move on! You know how he loves being kept waiting!”
For a stunned second Felicity was bereft of speech. Then as the full significance of her friend’s information dawned on her, she burst out, “It can’t be true, I believe you’re making it up.”
“Of course I’m not!” Diana replied indignantly. “And what’s more, the case has got to be warded in John Mason. Brenton insists on that and I can assure you he’s in no mood to be queried as to the sweet reasonableness of that arrangement. You wouldn’t expect our dear Guy Brenton to consider such a trifling inconvenience, would you?” Diana mocked. “He’d have a bed fixed on the roof if he felt like it, yes, and expect the nurses to perch on a chimney while they changed the dressings,” she ended laughingly.
“Don’t be such an idiot!” Felicity found herself joining in her friend’s infectious laughter. “Now you’re wasting my time with all your nonsense! I must get along to break the news to Sister ... bye-bye, see you some time!” Felicity replaced the receiver and bundling the rest of the scattered papers back on the desk, hurried to the ward.
It was typical of hospital life that things managed to get done in the end however impossible and difficult the situation appeared to be. As Felicity had fully expected, Sister Robinson was only too thankful to delegate the task of assisting the surgeon to her staff nurse with the instruction that Nurse Jones was to attend as well. Sister Robinson was not only shrewd enough to recognize Felicity’s ability and efficiency in any emergency but she tacitly acknowledged that Felicity had an uncanny knack of handling the orthopaedic surgeon even in his most recalcitrant moods. Guy Brenton was attractive, all the nurses admitted that; abrupt and a bit sarcastic at times, a real tyrant where work was concerned and intolerant of mistakes. Felicity supposed she’d been fairly lucky in her dealings with him, anyway he’d always been quite reasonable with her and she liked him. Some of the staff had been up against him she knew and, no doubt like a fool, she’d been too inclined to speak up in Guy Brenton’s favour against her fellow nurses and although the chaff was always well meant and free from malice, she had made herself conspicuous by committing the unforgivable sin of openly defending him. With the large staff of physicians and surgeons attached to St. Edwin’s it was only natural that greater preference should be shown by the nurses for some than for others, a few were general favourites while others were simply accepted as a necessary part of hospital life. Guy Brenton belonged to neither category; his physical attraction every female on the staff readily admitted, but generally speaking he was considered the most exacting and difficult person to work for. Felicity had always been intrigued by his personality but even her feelings for him had not been untinged with awe, his aloof manner was anything but encouraging and his caustic tongue, should anything displease him, was sufficiently terrifying to keep the most intrepid nurse at a distance. Felicity, even when a probationer and throughout her training, had always managed to steer clear of trouble, perhaps because she had the happy knack of smiling disarmingly at the propitious moment, or more possibly because, however intimidated she might feel, at least she managed to conceal it. Some of the nurses were foolish enough to show how much they minded and were the perfect butt for a man of Guy Brenton’s type. They just asked for trouble and grumbled when it submerged them. Of course it was quite absurd how the few casual remarks she had made in his favour had immediately caused her particular circle of friends to jump to the ridiculous conclusion that she harboured some secret passion for the man!
As Felicity superintended the preparation of the patient who had now been brought up from the casualty department, Nurse Jones addressed her in a tone of utter dejection. “Theatre has just rung through, everything is ready. Must I go down with you, wouldn’t somebody else do? I can’t bear Theatre Sister and as for Mr. Brenton...” She broke off with a look of dismay more expressive than any words.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to.” Felicity spoke kindly, fully understanding the girl’s reluctance. “We shall be late off duty, but you’ll be able to have the extra time tomorrow,” she ended with an attempt at consolation.
“Always assuming I survive this ordeal,” Nurse Jones replied gloomily. “I suppose then, we’d better get along, shall I ring for the stretcher?”
Felicity paused to adjust her starched cap and smooth out her apron before presenting herself in the theatre. She need not have worried about her appearance for nature had endowed her with a beautifully proportioned figure which even the shapelessness of her uniform could not conceal. Exertion had heightened the soft colour in her cheeks and served to enhance the azure blue of her dark-fringed eyes, while the stiff white band of her cap, constricting the golden waves of her hair, formed a perfect frame to the oval contour of her face. The group of students gathered in the doorway of the theatre stepped back to make way for the stretcher and at Theatre Sister’s nod, Felicity helped the porters to lay the recumbent figure on the operating table
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“I rang John Mason at least ten minutes ago to say we were ready for your case!” The Sister’s annoyance showed only too clearly in her words and her frowning expression.
“I’m sorry, Sister,” Felicity apologized. “There was some delay in getting a porter.”
“It’s lucky for you Mr. Brenton hasn’t arrived yet,” Sister retorted unappeased, as she whipped the blanket with a brusque gesture from the patient’s inert form.
Although Felicity’s back was turned to the door, she sensed Guy Brenton’s appearance from the sudden hush which silenced the students’ chatter while Nurse Jones with a quick intake of breath, came to stand close beside her as if for support.
“Everything ready?” Guy Brenton queried tersely.
As Felicity nodded assent, she found herself covertly studying the surgeon’s expression, that formidable tightness about the firm line of his jaw which she knew so well and which so many others feared. It was hard to believe sometimes that he ever smiled and that when he did, his feature was amazingly transformed.
“Yes, sir, everything is ready,” Theatre Sister responded briefly, and unable to restrain her resentment, added, “I’ve had to get Sister Robinson to send two nurses from John Mason, we couldn’t spare anyone, we are rushed to death with emergencies which couldn’t be postponed.”
“I presume from that remark that you do not consider this case to be an emergency.” Guy Brenton spoke curtly. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to be the best judge of that.” He signed to the anaesthetist to begin, then proceeded to explain details of the injury to the students.
“Be careful, Nurse Jones, look how you’re spotting the floor with that plaster!” Sister remonstrated, frowning more angrily than before. “We’ll be late enough as it is without you making work!”
Felicity, feeling that the reprimand was unjustified, deftly placed a rubber sheet beneath the bowl and with a smile of encouragement to Nurse Jones, turned again to the table. Since it was apparent that Sister intended to do no more than was absolutely necessary, it was Felicity who stepped forward to help Guy Brenton into his overalls and although she was tall, it was more than she could manage to reach the tapes at his neck and even on tiptoe she could only just grasp the ends.
“Here, Newlyn, fix this tape!” Guy Brenton demanded of one of his housemen. “Nurse Dene will have to grow before she’s of any practical use!” and as Felicity moved away she was surprised to glimpse a faint smile curving his lips.
It was an accepted fact that Guy Brenton dealt with his cases with amazing speed but that afternoon Felicity felt that the operation would never end. The atmosphere of the theatre grew unbearably hot and the enveloping overall, worn as a protection from splashes of plaster, seemed to be choking her.
“That’s about as good a result as we’ll get.” Guy Brenton’s decisive words reached Felicity’s ears like sweet music. Now there was the plaster to adjust and then it would be over. She stooped to whisper to Nurse Jones.
“Get the bandages ready now ... take care, not too wet!” With skilful fingers the surgeon began to wind the bandages, fixing the limb in position. “Hang on to the foot, Nurse Dene, whatever you do don’t let it slip ... that’s right, keep it inverted.” His tone was peremptory, then he added, “There’ll have to be some weight on this, must try to avoid shortening.”
Still holding on to the patient’s foot, Felicity could give little attention to anything else ... the bandages were too wet, she was sure they were. Couldn’t Sister tell Jones, why didn’t she do something about it?
“What’s the use of these? I want bandages, not sodden sponges!” Guy Brenton’s tone was cold with anger, then with a gesture of annoyance, he flung the offending articles to the floor. “Come along, Nurse, think what you’re doing, surely you can wring out a bandage properly!”
The few splashes of plaster of which Sister had complained seemed a trivial matter compared with the white mass which now lay at Nurse Jones’ feet, and dismayed completely by Guy Brenton’s rebuke, she was now ineffectually spilling plaster over everything within range.
Guy Brenton’s temper was rising fast as he half turned to address Sister. “What do you think you are here for, just an ornament? It’s been difficult enough to straighten this limb, I don’t intend losing the alignment now. You can see Nurse Dene is occupied, go and give a hand with the plaster.”
At long last the limb was smoothly encased and Guy Brenton stood upright. Felicity was glad to stretch her back which ached from the awkward position she had been forced to adopt. She held out her hand to take the surgeon’s overall. “Will you be sending Mr. Elver up to fix the extension?” she queried.
“Yes, he can do it.” Guy Brenton glanced at his wrist watch which he had taken from his pocket, then he laid it aside as he put on his jacket. “I shall have to be getting along, I have an appointment. Nurse Dene, when you get back to the ward, ring Mr. Elver and tell him, I expect you’ll find him in Casualty.”
“Very well, sir.” Felicity barely waited for the surgeon’s departure before she crossed to the window. “May I open up, Sister?”
“Yes ... and then you and Nurse Jones had better stay and clear away. I can’t ask my staff to stop on at this time of night.” She picked up the cuffs she had previously removed and slipped them over her wrists, then with a brief “good night,” she walked towards the door and disappeared.
It was not until both the anaesthetist and the radiographer had removed their respective equipment and departed that Nurse Jones gave vent to her pent-up feelings. “Thank heaven, that’s over; What a devil that man is. He makes me so nervous I don t know what I’m doing. You seem to be the only person who ever gets a civil word and even you didn’t get much change out of him today, he seemed ruder than ever!” She paused to draw a deep breath, then went on. “Why should Theatre Sister expect us to clear up, why can’t her own pros, do it? You a Staff Nurse too, and after all I m a second year—it’s disgusting!” she concluded indignantly.
“I expect the theatre staff are off by now. She’s quite right, we can’t leave the place like this,” Felicity explained resignedly.
“I was going to a picture too—oh, dear, it is a nuisance, I did so want to see it,” Nurse Jones lamented as she tucked a wisp of reddish hair under her cap, then as she prepared to retrieve some of the debris from the floor, she looked up to continue. “You know, Mr. Brenton has got me into such a state, I still feel half-paralyzed.”
“It’s silly of you to show you mind, that only makes him worse. If you nurses would behave like human beings instead of scared rabbits, you’d find him much easier to deal with.”
“It’s all very well for you ... he never goes for you. Even poor Sister Robinson dithers more than ever when he s around. You must have some special immunity or something.” She stooped to gather up an armful of blankets, then went on. “Do you think we’ll be long? The picture starts at seven fifteen and I’d hate to miss the beginning.”
“You get off, I can manage alone.” Felicity rolled her sleeves above the elbow. “Look here, go and hurry the porters to take the patient up to Mason’s—then ring Mr. Elver about the extension—leave the case notes for Night Sister— and then you can get away.”
“You mean that?” Nurse Jones beamed. “Sure you can manage?” She was already at the door before turning back to add: “Here are the porters now—I’ll phone Mr. Elver directly I get to the ward. Thanks awfully—good night.” With ill-concealed impatience, Nurse Jones waited for the porters to lift the still unconscious figure on to the stretcher, then hastily followed them from the theatre.
Left alone, Felicity methodically set about her task. It was no mean effort to clear up such a devastating mess after an already tiring day. The plaster, as was its habit, seemed to cling to the most inaccessible spots and the patch which Guy Brenton had made on the floor needed all her vigour to erase. His temper really was formidable—if he’d had to clear up himself he might think twice before throwing things about.
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“Hallo—why, what in heaven’s name are you doing?” Diana Weste stood in the doorway viewing her friend’s exertions with surprise. “Since when have you been promoted to cleaner?”
Felicity looked up from her kneeling position, then sank back on her heels. “Just a little joke of Sister’s—seemed to think that if Mr. Brenton chose to use theatre as late as this, then it was up to Mason’s nurses to do the clearing.”
“Then why not get a pro on to it?”
“You seem to have forgotten the time! Don’t wait for me, I’ll be at least another half-hour.”
“I’ve only just finished myself.” Diana perched herself on the edge of the operating table. The hair which peeped from beneath her cap was deep brown and although there was beauty in the calm serenity of her expression and well-moulded features, she lacked the animation which was Felicity Dene’s charm. Fumbling in the pocket beneath her apron, she drew out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. “Here—have one?”
“What ... smoke in here? I daren’t—and don’t you either—for goodness’ sake, Diana, don’t dare—supposing Sister comes back and catches you?” Felicity exclaimed with horror.
“Rubbish, she won’t come back, she has left me to lock up, no one will come along now. I’m off duty—so are you by rights, here, come on, don’t be a fool.” Diana had lighted her own cigarette and threw the packet across to her friend.
Felicity ignored the crumpled packet lying on her lap as she glanced in dismay at her friend.
“Go on—don’t be such a prig, you are much too conscientious,” Diana protested.
Felicity was not at any time very keen on smoking, she never seized on a cigarette as Diana did; but, no doubt spurred to action by her friend’s words, she drew one from the packet and leaned forward for Diana to light it.
“There, that’s better, isn’t it? Nothing like a whiff when one’s tired and on edge.” Diana expelled a cloud of smoke with satisfaction. “I should think you could do with a bit of soothing after a spell with Brenton, wasn’t he awful today? I warned you, didn’t I? We had three cases with him this morning and by the time he’d finished, we didn’t know if we were on our heads or our heels!”
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