Outpost Hospital

by Sheila Ridley

  She told him she could.

  He nodded, practical now. “I’ve been accepted by the Mission Society, and I’ve begun winding up my affairs, so it shouldn’t be long before we’re on our way. I’ve had a letter from the minister in charge of the station. We’ll be living with him and his sister, at first anyway. He told me that a doctor is urgently needed in Ngombe—that’s the village we’re going to. It’s on the Benue river leading off the Niger, in the eastern part of the country. Kennedy, the minister, has found a site he thinks will be suitable for the hospital, so we’ll be able to start on it as soon as we arrive.” As he talked, Katherine began to be infected by his enthusiasm and to feel the excitement she had known earlier. “I’ll let you have any more information you need as I get it,” he went on.

  Then, finishing his coffee quickly, he stood up. “Now I must rush away. Got a couple of calls to make. Can I drive you anywhere?” She said no, and, after reminding her to put in her notice the next day, he raised a hand in a brief salute and walked swiftly away.

  The door closed behind him with a tinkle of its warning bell. There was the sound of his car starting up, driving away, and then silence.

  A man in the next booth started whistling under his breath. Katherine knew the tune; it was an old song—what was it called? Oh, yes. “All alone, I’m so all alone, And there’s no one else but you—”

  He didn’t know how appropriate his choice was.

  She sat looking at the place where Mark had been sitting, at the stub of the cigarette he had been smoking. She could hardly believe this was happening to her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A few days after leaving the hospital, Katherine was to have her last meeting with Mark Charlton before they met at Southampton to board the boat. He was to spend the last week with his parents in London, and she had been surprised to receive a letter from him saying that he would visit her that evening. There was something he wanted to talk to her about before the trip.

  Throughout the day, as she polished and dusted, arranged flowers, shampooed and set her hair, she tried to guess why he was coming.

  When she could find nothing else to do downstairs and it was still only six o’clock, she went up to her room and started packing one of the suitcases she would be taking with her. Most of her luggage had been sent oh in advance.

  She took a large box down from the shelf in the wardrobe and opened it. From among the folds of tissue paper, she lifted a dress. It was made of stiff silk in pale pink and it shimmered in the light as she shook it out. The style was simple; a low boat-shaped neckline, fitting bodice and a full skirt, smooth at the front but with dozens of deep, unpressed pleats at the back. There was a pair of matching shoes too.

  What on earth had come over her that day? She had gone into the store for a skirt and a blouse that would have been far more use to her than a cocktail dress she would probably never wear. But as she went up the stairs she had kept thinking of Elizabeth Frayne and about how beautifully dressed she always was, and this had been the result! Certainly West Africa was no place for such fripperies. Not for a hard-working nurse, anyway.

  There might be an opportunity to wear it on the voyage, though. And she replaced it in its box and put the box into her suitcase, the shoes beside it.

  At seven o’clock, she had a bath and put on a rose pink woollen dress. It was her favorite, for the warm color seemed to reflect itself in her cheeks and make her eyes brighter; and the soft material made the best of her slender figure. She brushed her dark hair until it shone, put on lipstick to match her dress and went downstairs.

  The little sitting room was looking its best, too. The lamplight was kind to the slightly worn carpet and armchairs. Bronze chrysanthemums in a blue jug gave color and fragrance, and a bright fire blazing in the hearth burnished the old-fashioned brass fender and companion set.

  Katherine’s father, a thin balding man in spectacles, sat at his desk poring over some stamps he had recently added to his collection. He looked at her over his gold-rimmed glasses. “What a pity I don’t collect Africa,” he remarked in his dry voice. “You could have sent me the new issues with the first-day postmarks. Perhaps not, though. I don’t suppose there’ll be a post office on the corner,” he chuckled. “Not even a letter box, I daresay.”

  Katherine was hardly listening. Her ears were straining for the sound of a car.

  At last it came, followed by a knock.

  As she let him in, she noticed that Dr. Charlton’s dark face was serious, more so than usual. He was almost frowning as he went with her into the sitting room.

  Mr. Marlowe looked up again from his beloved albums. “Ah, Dr. Charlton! This is very nice, meeting you again. It will be a long time until our next meeting, eh? But this is a noble work you are undertaking and I wish you the success you deserve. Yes, indeed.” He stood up and took Mark’s hands in his. He looked very small and frail beside the younger man. “You will take care of my Katherine, I know. I don’t need to worry about her. Now I must go and see the vicar about Sunday’s hymns—I play the organ, you know. You might be gone by the time I get back so I’ll bid you goodbye.”

  Katherine was standing by the window and, as the door closed behind her father, she turned to Mark.

  He was watching her, a smile hovering uncertainly about his lips. He leaned against the table, his long legs crossed, and fumbled in his jacket pocket for cigarettes. “Well, Nurse, everything under control? All set for the great adventure?” he asked heartily, in a voice so unlike his usual self-assured way of speaking that Katherine was puzzled, until she realized what was wrong. He was nervous. How surprising! What could have happened to put him on edge like this?

  “I think everything is arranged now,” she said, but doubt was in her voice. “Has anything happened? I mean—is there any change in the plans? When I received your letter I wondered—”

  “Oh, no, the arrangements stand—for the most part anyway. The reason for this visit is that I’ve been staying with my sister, saying goodbye to her and her family, you know.” He was speaking quickly, flicking his lighter unsuccessfully.

  Katherine went across and lit a match for him.

  He thanked her and went on, staring into the fire, “Well, when we talked about my going to Africa and taking you as my assistant, my sister said that I was being unfair to you, asking you to live in an isolated place so far from your family and friends, without any sort of security. I hadn’t thought of it like that. She’s probably right, though. She’s a sensible woman.” He looked directly at Katherine, now. “So if you agree with her there’s just time, before we sail, for us to get married.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Get married? Us? Oh, no!” Katherine spoke without thinking; but then, it was unthinkable that she and Mark Charlton should marry simply because his sister thought it was the right thing to do. He hadn’t even pretended there was any other reason. He might have been offering to take out a comprehensive insurance policy for her! In fact, that was what his proposal amounted to. Indignation and distaste showed in her proud, pale face and startled gray eyes as she stood motionless, staring at him.

  At her words, although he did not alter his position, Mark Charlton seemed to draw away, and his deep voice was cold and hard when he spoke. “I see. I thought it best to find out how you felt before we leave England. If you are quite happy with things as they are, we’ll let them stand.”

  He threw his cigarette into the fire and headed for the door. Katherine felt she must say something. Her answer had been impulsive and ungracious. “I ... I meant that it’s quite unnecessary. You don’t have to feel I expect ... well—”

  He cut in abruptly. “I understand. I anticipated such a reply but I had to make the gesture. My sister is very strong-minded. Now—” he looked impatiently at his watch “—if there’s nothing you want to ask me, I must go.”

  Katherine stepped back. “No, there’s nothing, Doctor,” she said unhappily as he strode to the door. The barrier between them seeme
d higher and wider than ever before. “Won’t you stay for a cup of coffee, even? It’s all prepared.”

  But he was already putting on his coat. The collar was turned in at the back and she longed to reach up and put it right. “No, thanks,” he said curtly, “there are still several things to be done and not much time left. We’ll meet as arranged at the Royal Hotel in Southampton. Until then, goodbye.”

  She stood quite still for a few moments after he had gone. Then, with a sigh, she went across to the fire and knelt, prodding the coals into flame. The warmth and color seemed suddenly to have left the room.

  Kneeling there, gazing into the fire, she found herself wishing desperately that she had refused to go to Africa. How could she have imagined she could go through with it? She must have been crazy. Separation would have been far better. She could have made a complete break with Grinsley and its associations; made new friends, seen new places. In time she might even have forgotten Mark Charlton. What would it be like to be free of this emotion that held her like a chain? How had she felt before? She couldn’t remember. It was as though she had always been a captive.

  She was still kneeling there when her father came in.

  “Well now, my dear,” he said, holding his thin white hands out to the warmth, “Dr. Charlton has gone, I see. My word, it’s cold outside. Seasonal, of course.”

  Katherine pulled an armchair forward. “Sit here, Dad, while I get some coffee. Dr. Charlton couldn’t stay.”

  “That’s a pity. I’ve taken quite a liking to him.” Mr. Marlowe reached for his slippers. “But I think he will be a better man after a year or two in Nigeria.”

  “Whatever do you mean, Dad?”

  “Mm? Oh, nothing really, my dear, it just occurred to me that there was something arrogant—only very slightly, of course—in the young man’s character. It’s quite natural. Nothing has happened to him, so far, to give him the touch of humility that he needs. A spell of work as a mission doctor should supply it.” He leaned back in his chair, filling his pipe.

  Katherine held a lighted match for him. “I had no idea you were such a student of character, Dad,” she smiled.

  He was probably right, too, she reflected, as she went to the kitchen.

  She wheeled the trolley into the sitting room. It was set with the dainty little pastries she had spent most of the morning making.

  As she handed him his cup, her father said, “I shall miss you, Katherine. I know we haven’t been really close; that’s my fault. I get absorbed in my books or my music or my stamps and I forget everything else for the time. But I’ve always known you were near.”

  She went to sit on the arm of his chair. Dear Dad. He must be lonely, too. She kissed the top of his head. “It’s not forever, you know,” she said gently. “I’ll be home for a long leave in two years, remember.”

  “Of course you will. I mustn’t be selfish. This is your choice and a big adventure for you.” He patted her hand. “Dr. Charlton must think highly of you to have asked you to help him in this work.”

  “I suppose so,” Katherine said disconsolately.

  Her father looked up at her in sudden concern. “You’re not having doubts about it, are you, my dear? Because if you are, it’s not too late—”

  “No, Dad,” she reassured him. “I’m a bit tired, I expect, after all the preparations for the journey; and a little sad to be leaving you and the village.” Katherine and her father lived in a small village called Dinton, a few miles outside Grinsley. She took a plate from the trolley and said as cheerfully as she could, “Eat some of these patties. They’ll be dried out by tomorrow. Shall we have some music?”

  She selected a record from the cabinet. “Sheep May Safely Graze!” It never failed to soothe her when she felt tense and nervous.

  She sat down, leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to think of nothing at all. Lovely restful music. Where would he be now? On his way to London? It’s a foggy night. Hope he drives carefully. He had asked her to marry him. Had she been too hasty? No. But if only—stop! She was supposed to be thinking of nothing and relaxing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The three weeks of the sea voyage from Southampton to Port Harcourt in Nigeria were a mixture of pleasure and disappointment for Katherine.

  Her first experience of travel in a big ship; her first sight of exotic foreign cities; these of course she enjoyed. But most of her time was spent in the company of a London girl a little older than herself, who was traveling to Lagos to join her husband. This girl, Peggy Carr, was bright and friendly, but Katherine had hoped the long journey would give her a chance to get on closer terms with Mark. That he would talk to her about the life ahead of them; take her into his confidence about the problems they would meet, perhaps even show some interest in her opinions and ideas.

  Instead, he sought out men with years of work in Africa behind them and sat with them for hours, drawing on their knowledge. Many of these men were returning from home leave.

  So Katherine hardly saw him except at mealtimes, and even then he talked much more to the middle-aged army couple who shared their table than to her. Of course, she understood his eagerness to learn all he could of the continent where they were to live, and she would have been satisfied if he had just given her his companionship for the short time the ship was in port.

  However, on the morning they reached Dakar he told her at breakfast that he had appointments in the city that would keep him busy all day.

  Wandering among gleaming blocks of flats, large hotels and smart shops in the hot, brilliant sunshine, Katherine found it strange to think of life still going on at the Grinsley General exactly as it had in the three years she herself had been part of it.

  After lunch she and Peggy went to see the native quarter. But the color and vitality of it meant little to her. If only Mark had been with her, she would have been fascinated by it all.

  She made a few purchases: a paperweight in the form of a scorpion, which she was told was a good example of native art—this for her father. Actually, she bought two of these. The other was intended as a Christmas present for Mark, but she didn’t think she would have the courage to give it to him, when the time came. And she bought a pair of black suede gloves for Ann Jameson, her only real friend in Grinsley. Ann was a nurse at the General, too.

  At Lagos Peggy left the ship, and Katherine felt more lonely than ever.

  In the afternoon, Mark did decide to take time off for a look at the market in the African city, but as the hearty colonel and his genteel lady, their table companions, elected to go with them, the outing was not much fun.

  The colonel was a man of strong opinions, or rather prejudices, and he voiced them loudly and frequently. As soon as he heard what had brought Katherine and Mark to Nigeria, he made it clear that he thought they were mad.

  Katherine felt rather uneasy listening to the colonel’s remarks. Was there some truth in them? Were she and Mark taking on more than they could cope with? Again, she longed to tell Mark how she felt and have him reassure her, but when she raised the subject later that evening as they sat in the lounge, he had merely glanced up from his book and said, “Oh, don’t worry about Colonel Blimp, Nurse. It will take more than the wind of change to blow the cobwebs from his ideas. He’s behind the times.”

  She had wanted to say more but he was engrossed in his book again. She would be glad when the journey was over and the work begun. On these long, lazy days she had too much time to think.

  At Port Harcourt the voyage ended and the train journey northward began.

  The train was a day late in starting, but nobody other than Mark and Katherine seemed to think that mattered. It was crowded and not very comfortable, but the meals were well cooked and varied.

  As the train pushed on, the farms it passed became smaller and the forest more dense. At each village the people gathered to wave and cheer excitedly, for the passing of the train was a big event in their lives.

  On the second morning, after an excellent b
reakfast of iced paw-paw, bacon and eggs and toast and marmalade, Mark and Katherine were sitting in the dining car drinking their second cups of coffee. Though it was hard to believe—the temperature was 95 degrees—it was Christmas Day, and Katherine had put on her nicest dress, a slim-fitting one of cream shantung with a square neckline and large, mother-of-pearl buttons.

  Putting down his cup, Mark took a small parcel from the pocket of his white linen jacket and handed it to her, saying with a smile, “Merry Christmas, Nurse.”

  She was taken completely by surprise. It had never occurred to her that he would give her a present. He had been so absorbed in his books lately, that she had wondered if he even knew the date.

  “Oh, thank you, Doctor,” she stammered, taking the parcel. It was neatly wrapped in holly-patterned paper and red ribbon.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked.

  “Yes. Yes of course.” Her hands shook as she tried to undo the bow, but eventually she got the wrappings off to reveal a small scarlet box. Inside was a necklace, one of those she had admired in the market in Lagos. The beads were of a deep turquoise blue, and it seemed to Katherine the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

  Looking at it she found, to her dismay, that her eyes were filling with tears. Oh dear! She must not be so silly as to cry.

  She blinked hard and managed to smile faintly and whisper, “It’s lovely. Thank you so much.”

  “I thought you took a liking to them when we saw them in the market, so I slipped back while you were elsewhere. Shall I fasten them for you?”

  “Thank you,” she said again. “It was very kind of you to think of it—getting it for me, I mean.”