Outpost Hospital

by Sheila Ridley

  “Well, I don’t know,” Mark shook his head. “It seems unreasonable to me.”

  “Love never reasons,” murmured Katherine, almost to herself.

  “What’s that?” Mark asked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” she muttered, feeling her cheeks burning. “Just something I read somewhere. It seemed to fit the situation.”

  “Let’s hear it, then.”

  “Love never reasons,” she repeated flatly.

  “Is that all?” he persisted.

  Wishing desperately that she had not allowed herself to be drawn into this conversation, Katherine quoted, “Love never reasons but profusely gives, gives like a thoughtless prodigal its all, and trembles then, lest it has done too little!”

  After a second’s silence, during which Katherine had to fight her impulse to run from the room, Mark said, “Well, well, I never suspected you had a poetic streak. Do you really believe in that sentimental stuff and nonsense?”

  “Yes, I do. I mean, I don’t think it is sentimental stuff and nonsense,” she retorted sharply, stung by the amused contempt in his voice.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders and stood up. “All right, Nurse. You win. Love shall prevail. We’ll let these two youngsters work out their own destinies. There, you’ve got me talking like a popular song now.” He grinned. “Come along. It’s time we were getting across to the house. We must make an early start tomorrow. Do you think we could squeeze a couple more beds into the wards? I know it would make your work more difficult; there’s hardly room to turn a trolley now, but the waiting list is growing every day and we can’t speed up the discharge any more.”

  As they walked through the grass, talking of the hospital, Katherine’s thoughts were still on the young pair, Fina and Kani. On the face of it, theirs was a tragic case but still Katherine felt a little envious of Fina who, whatever her troubles, had the joy of loving and knowing her love was returned.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After dinner Mark went to his room to write his monthly report for the Mission Society; Andrew and his sister began to play bezique, and Katherine sat by the window with her embroidery. But the colors kept running into one another and her arms felt heavy so that it was an effort to hold the tablecloth.

  The voices of the card players faded further into the distance ... sequence ... bezique ... royal marriage.

  Then somebody was lifting her head ... and smoothing back her hair with a cool, gentle hand. She would have to open her eyes but oh, she didn’t want to. “Andrew. My goodness, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

  Andrew was kneeling beside her chair, his brown eyes full of concern. “You’re worn out, child,” he said tenderly. “You must be, to have slept in this hard chair. You’ve been resting your face against the back and it’s made a mark right across your cheek.” He traced the mark with his finger. “Here, let me put this cushion under your head.”

  Katherine suddenly remembered Mary Kennedy. “Your sister—”

  “Mary is away to her bed,” Andrew said, easing her head back onto the cushion.

  “I must’ve been asleep a long time, then. You were playing cards.”

  “Nearly half an hour,” he said taking the needle from her hand and carefully folding the tablecloth. “Katherine,” he said, after a brief pause, “I’m awfully sorry my sister’s not more friendly with you and Charlton. I’d hoped that by this time she would have got over her resentment of you. I can’t understand it.” His thin face was creased in puzzlement.

  Katherine put her hand over his. “Don’t worry about it, Andrew. Perhaps it’s just that she is tired and needs a holiday.”

  “Yes, that may be it.” He seemed grateful for the suggestion, as though he felt he had been disloyal to his sister. “I know she misses Scotland terribly. She used to roam over the moors for hours with her dog—rather like Emily Bronte, I used to think. I tried to persuade her not to come out here with me because I knew she wouldn’t be happy, but she thought it was her duty, so...” With a little sigh, he began to pick up the colored silks that had slipped to the floor. He laid them neatly on the tablecloth and put this on a chair.

  Then he stood up and held out his hands to Katherine. She put hers into them and reluctantly got to her feet.

  “Off you go to your bed, my girl,” he said, and very lightly he brushed her hair with his lips.

  Going to her room, Katherine met Mark leaving his. He was still wearing his white coat, and he stopped when he saw her.

  “Oh, Nurse, I’m a bit worried about that appendectomy I did this morning,” he told her. “I’m going across to the hospital to have another look at him. Come with me, will you?”

  She looked down at her thin court shoes. “I’d better change my shoes and then I’ll come over. It won’t take a minute.”

  When she had changed her shoes, Katherine rubbed her face with her sponge in an effort to liven herself up. She had never felt so tired in her life. With a longing glance at her bed she went out of the room.

  It was nearly eleven o’clock before she got back to it. As she lay in bed she heard Andrew and Mark talking in the living room. Andrew was doing most of the talking and, to Katherine’s surprise, he sounded rather annoyed. But she was too tired to think about it then.

  Next morning after breakfast she and Mark were alone in the living room. When she rose from the table, Mark said, “Just a minute, Nurse. I don’t want you to go on duty today.”

  “Not go on duty?” she repeated with a puzzled frown. “But why not, Doctor? Is there something else you want me to do?”

  “Yes, there is,” he said. “I want you to take the day off. Have a rest. I hadn’t realized that you must be overworking.”

  So that was what Andrew had. been angry about last night. He had been telling Mark she was doing too much, and this was the result.

  “I can’t stay off today, Doctor,” she protested. “There’s too much to do. Out-patients, three operations—”

  Mark broke in. “We’ll manage. There’s no more to do today than there will be tomorrow and you can’t go on forever without a break.”

  “I’m all right,” Katherine insisted. “I can rest later, when the other nurses have had more experience and things are going more smoothly.”

  Mark sighed. “You’re an obstinate young woman,” he said and, getting up from the table, strode across to her. Looking closely into her face, he went on, “Kennedy was right. You are tired. I’ve been too busy to notice, I’m afraid.” As she opened her mouth to protest again he said firmly, “No more arguments, Nurse Marlowe. Whether you like it or not you will take today off. I must go.”

  She stood by the window watching him as he hurried toward the hospital. His shoulders were quite stooped. It was kind and thoughtful of Andrew to take such an interest in her welfare, but she wished he had not complained about her doing too much. If she did less it would mean more work for Mark.

  After this incident, Mark told Katherine to take some time off each week, but she usually compromised by folding swabs, rolling bandages-or writing notes; though she had to keep out of Andrew’s sight when she was supposed to be off duty.

  On one of these afternoons off she was sitting in her room, writing up an account of the progress of her ante-natal work which, since the success of the operation on Joseph’s wife, had developed until she now had to set aside three afternoons a week for it—she was engrossed in her task when she heard the excited voices of some of the houseboys in the passage.

  Putting her pen down she listened and heard herself—“Missy Nurse”—mentioned several times. There seemed to be a note of urgency in their chatter, so she went to the door. Jacob, the head boy, was there with Moses and now he came to her, an envelope in his hand.

  He held it out to her and she saw, with a little thrill of apprehension, that it was a cable.

  “For me? Are you sure?” hedged Katherine, reluctant to take it from him. It was silly, of course. Telegrams and cables b
ring good news as well as bad, but all the same...

  “I think,” nodded the boy. “Look.” And he thrust the envelope close to her face so that she could not avoid seeing that it was indeed for her.

  She opened it and read, “Mr. Marlowe seriously ill. Heart attack. In Grinsley General. Mrs. Parks.”

  Mrs. Parks was her father’s housekeeper.

  Katherine stood in the doorway staring at the piece of paper, and the two boys watched the color leave her face. Before any of them could speak or move, Andrew came along the passage calling for Jacob.

  When he saw the little tableau he hurried forward, “Katherine, my dear, what is it?” He dismissed the boys and helped her into her room. “Sit down here,” he said, pulling the chair nearer. Then he poured her a glass of water and, as she took the glass, she handed him the cable.

  He read it with a frown. “I’m awfully sorry about this, Katherine. It’s been a bad shock for you. Are you feeling a wee bit calmer now?”

  She nodded. “Yes, thank you, Andrew. Poor Dad. It was a shock. I ... I haven’t thought very much about him lately, I’m afraid.” Her voice shook and Andrew took the glass and then held her hands tightly.

  “You mustn’t reproach yourself, dear. So long as you thought all was well with him you were bound to be absorbed by your work here.”

  “He’s never been ill as long as I can remember. He’s always been sort of frail, but not ill.”

  “Who is Mrs. Parks? A relative?”

  “No, she’s his housekeeper. She’s been with us since Mother died. We have no relatives except an uncle of Dad’s, and he lives in Jersey.” Her voice began to tremble again. “Poor Dad. He’ll be so alone.”

  Andrew knelt beside her, his arm comfortingly around her shoulders. “What are you going to do, Katherine? Do you want to go home?”

  “Oh, yes, I do, Andrew,” she said, feeling in her pockets for a handkerchief. “I can’t bear to think of him lying ill in hospital with no one of his own near.”

  “Of course you must get to him as quickly as you can,” agreed Andrew gently. “My neighbor at the next station has a small two-seater plane,” he went on thoughtfully. “He would fly you to the airport. We must pray that he’s at home.”

  She put her hand up to stroke his face. “You’re such a comforting person, Andrew,” she whispered.

  “I’m glad, Kathie. I’m happy to think I’ve been able to bring you some comfort.”

  “Kathie,” she repeated. “No one’s ever called me that.”

  “You don’t mind? It’s a good Scots name and it’s how I think of you.”

  Something in his voice made her twist around to look into his face. His brown eyes were full of tenderness, and more than that. She looked away, but he took her chin in his hand and turned her head until she faced him again. “You will come back, won’t you? I’ve grown very fond of you, Kathie, my dear. I’ll miss you more than I can say.”

  “I’ll miss you, too, Andrew. And I’ll come back as soon as I can, I promise. Now I must put a few things into a case. When can we start?”

  “We’ll be on our way first thing in the morning.”

  “Couldn’t we go this evening?” she asked eagerly.

  He smiled. “I’m afraid not. It will be dark very soon and Howard, my friend with the plane, lives 60 miles away.”

  A door banged and Andrew said, “That sounds like Charlton coining in. I’ll go and tell him what’s happened.”

  Katherine sponged her face and ran a comb through her hair before following him, and when she reached the living-room door he had already broken the news to Mark.

  Seeing her in the doorway Mark swung around, his hands on his hips. “What’s this all about, Nurse Marlowe?” he asked sharply. “Kennedy tells me you want to go home.”

  Shaken by his anger, Katherine said, “But he told you why, didn’t he?” She glanced at Andrew who nodded, a puzzled frown on his face.

  “He told me that your father is ill, and I’m sorry about it,” Charlton replied, his voice still hard, “but you surely don’t think that is sufficient reason for abandoning your work here? I’m very surprised that you should wish to put your personal interest before your obligation to the patients.”

  “I ... I’m not, I mean...” she stammered. She felt awfully small and miserable as she stood looking up at him, trying to frame a reply that would make him understand and sympathize. Why did he twist things to make it seem that she was in the wrong? “I just want to go for a little while until my father is out of danger. There’s no one else.”

  The doctor’s dark face did not soften. “Kennedy says he’s in hospital—in the Grinsley General, in fact.” She nodded. “Then you know he’s being well looked after,” he went on. “You couldn’t do anything for him that isn’t already being done.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of medical treatment,” she said, more boldly. “I know the hospital will do everything that’s necessary in that way. But I’m all the family he has; well, except for an old uncle. He’ll be so lonely.”

  “Has he no friends?”

  “Oh, yes. He has a good many close friends.”

  “Then they will take care of the visiting. Can I see the cable?” Katherine gave it to him, and he studied it carefully. “Is this Mrs. Parks a responsible person?”

  Recalling the housekeeper’s invariable habit of seeing the blackest side of any situation, Katherine hesitated. “Well, I suppose she might have been in a bit of a panic when she sent that cable,” she said eventually. “But—”

  “But,” Mark broke in, “your father is undoubtedly ill. Yes, but you must consider both sides of the matter calmly. You have responsibilities here, and you owe it to the people who depend on us to remember them. It may well be that your father only needs a few weeks’ rest to restore him to health.”

  “That’s possible,” she agreed. “But it’s just as likely that he is seriously ill.”

  Mark turned away from her and stood, feet apart, staring out of the window. “Even if you were sure he was seriously ill I should expect you to put your work here first.”

  Katherine looked at Andrew who came to her and put his arm around her shoulders, but said nothing. Tears were in her eyes as she said, to no one in particular, “What am I to do?”

  Andrew’s arm tightened. “I think you’d best leave it till the morning before you come to a decision. It’s always easier to see things clearly the next morning.”

  “Perhaps you’re right, Andrew,” she said shakily. “I don’t think I could decide now, anyway.”

  Mark turned to face them. With his back to the window, it was impossible to see the expression on his face. “I may as well tell you, Nurse, that if you decide to go I will be compelled to ask for a replacement for you,” he said coldly. She was about to say that she hoped to be away only a short time when he added very slowly and deliberately, “and I would regard the change as a permanent one.” Katherine gasped. This was too unfair. He seemed to think she was not entitled to have personal feelings. “You mean that if I go I can’t come back?”

  “I’m afraid that is exactly what I do mean. I’ll be very sorry if that happens. You’ve worked well here and I’ve never had any reason to doubt that I made a wise choice when I selected you to be my assistant. But now ... well—” he shrugged his wide shoulders “—you know the position.” And he stalked out of the room.

  A heavy silence filled the darkening room for a minute. Then with a broken sob Katherine pushed Andrew’s arm away and ran from the room. Hardly knowing where she was going, she went through the front door, down the steps, across the tangled grass and found herself leaning breathless against the carved mahogany doors of the little chapel.

  She opened the doors and entered. A lamp burned on the table at the far end, and, walking toward it, she saw beside it a carving of the Crucifixion not skilfully but very lovingly executed. Of course, it was nearly Easter. How Dad loved the Easter services! He would miss them this year.

  She sat
on one of the front benches, her head bowed. This little place was so full of peace. She would be able to think calmly about the problem here. But, the more she thought, the more complex it seemed to become. When the telegram had arrived it had looked simple enough. Her father was very ill, so she must go home until he was well.

  Mark’s reaction had been completely unexpected and extremely upsetting, but she couldn’t disregard the fact that Mrs. Parks might have exaggerated the seriousness of the illness. If she had, Katherine might throw up everything she had achieved here in Ngombe needlessly. And there would be no coming back. Mark had made that very plain. So that she would probably never see him again. Never see Mark again. She said the words to herself and knew that all the meaning would go out of her life if that happened. She loved him as much, perhaps more than she ever had.

  She stood up. She would take Andrew’s advice and not try to reach a decision until the morning. Sleeping on it was supposed to be a good idea, although she didn’t feel much like sleeping at the moment.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Sleep finally came, bringing with it disturbing dreams, so that when Moses brought her washing water next morning, Katherine got up feeling tired and depressed. She went automatically through the routine of washing and dressing, telling herself over and over, “You must decide now.”

  She had already put on her nursing uniform when she realized that, if she was going home, she would not want the uniform on. Did that mean that subconsciously she had decided to stay? No! She pulled the white coat off and stood in the middle of the room looking uncertainly from the coat to the cupboard that contained her other clothes and back again.