Outpost Hospital

by Sheila Ridley

  Katherine, coming from the ward, was approaching the office door when it opened and Elizabeth Frayne came out followed by Mark. Katherine stood aside to let them pass, for the passage was narrow. She saw that Dr. Frayne looked pleased, almost smug, as she put her hand possessively on Mark’s arm and said: “See you at lunchtime, darling,” and walked down the passage. As he stood, hands thrust into the pockets of his white coat, watching her go, Mark’s face was anxious. When the door had closed behind Elizabeth, Katherine said, “The first patient is ready for operating Doctor.” He looked at her as though he had forgotten she was there.

  “The first patient,” he repeated vaguely.

  “Yes. Tegu. You’re amputating his leg this morning,” she reminded him. It was very unusual for her to have to remind him. He usually knew exactly what he had to do each day and never forgot the smallest thing. Now he brushed his hand over his eyes and said wearily,

  “Oh yes, the amputation. I remember. No, I can’t do it today. I’ll do it tomorrow.” In her surprise Katherine spoke as she would not normally have done.

  “But the boy is all prepared. I’ve given the pre-med injection. He was very nervous but he’s calmer now. If he has to wait until tomorrow—”

  “I have said I will do the operation tomorrow, Nurse,” he said slowly and deliberately; then he turned on his heel and went back into the office.

  Katherine went into the clinic room and cleared and reset the dressing tray. Now she must go and tell Tegu that he was not to have his operation today. Poor little boy. He had been so scared, but this morning he had promised to be brave. It was unlike Mark to be so thoughtless, especially to a child. This was the first time he had changed his mind about anything he had arranged to do. Obviously it was Elizabeth Frayne’s presence that had caused it. It was wrong that one woman should upset the important work of a hospital, perhaps even bring it to a standstill quite soon. If only that disturbing woman had not come to Ngombe! Mark was not altogether happy about it. That was quite clear. It had been a hard decision to give up his work, but it seemed it was easier than to give up the woman he loved.

  The door burst open, startling Katherine, deep in thought as she was. It was Mark Charlton. “Oh, here you are, Nurse. I’ve told the nurses to get Tegu for his operation. Everything’s ready I suppose? Go and check while I get ready.”

  “You’re going to do the amputation after all, Doctor?”

  “Yes, of course. We can’t make the child wait, especially as he’s inclined to be highly-strung. Quickly, Nurse, we’re late enough as it is.”

  That evening when Katherine entered the living room Andrew and Mark were there. Andrew came to her and slipped an arm around her waist. Mark smiled and said, “Kennedy has told me your news, Nurse. Congratulations.” He took her hand in both of his and held it tightly for a moment. It was all she could do to keep her voice steady as she thanked him. His touch still made her tremble. He released her hand and said he had some writing to do before dinner. As he left them, Katherine wondered if he was going to write to the Mission Society tendering his resignation.

  Andrew said: “When I told him we were engaged, Charlton was afraid he was going to lose you, so I promised you’d stay on as his right-hand woman.”

  “Didn’t he say anything about leaving?” asked Katherine puzzled.

  “No, not a thing. I’m sure you’re wrong about that, Kathie. He won’t leave us.”

  “But he didn’t say he was staying either,” she countered stubbornly.

  “Not exactly; but he spoke as though he had no intention of leaving just yet, anyway.”

  “Perhaps he means to stay until someone comes to replace him.”

  “Shall I ask him what he is going to do?” asked Andrew. “You have the right to know, after all.”

  “Oh no, Andrew, better not. I expect he’ll tell me quite soon. But Dr. Frayne said that she would be going back to England and that Dr. Charlton would be joining her later.”

  “She did, eh?” Andrew thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “I’m very surprised at that. I felt sure Charlton was settled here.”

  “I think he was until Dr. Frayne came,” said Katherine, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  “I shall be very disappointed if he does go, and the villagers will be heartbroken. We waited so long for a doctor and now, just when things are going so well, this happens. I don’t know how I’ll explain it to the people.” He shook his head sadly. “Are you quite certain Dr. Frayne said he would be going back to England?”

  “Yes. Well ... she said, ‘When we’ve made our plans I’ll go back to England.’ ”

  “Mm.” Andrew considered this and then said hopefully, “It might be that the lady has made her plans, but they may not necessarily be Charlton’s too.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes, I do. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Dr. Frayne decided to stay too. She’s an eye specialist, isn’t she? It would be grand for the patients, wouldn’t it?”

  “Er ... yes, it would,” Katherine agreed, “but I’m afraid it won’t happen. Dr. Frayne isn’t the type for a place like this.”

  “Oh well, we’ll soon know. Now let’s talk about us. We have plans to make on our own account. When are we going to be married?”

  “Married?” Katherine realized that she had never thought about the wedding. Since she had accepted Andrew, her mind had been occupied with the problem of Dr. Frayne and the difference her arrival was going to make in the lives of everyone in Ngombe. She felt ashamed. “I haven’t really thought much about it, Andrew. Not about dates I mean. There doesn’t seem to have been time.”

  “Then think about it now, my girl. You worry and fuss about everybody else and never give a minute’s consideration to yourself.”

  “Oh, Andrew, that’s not true,” said Katherine candidly. “I’m not as unselfish as you give me credit for being, but I promise to decide about the wedding as soon as I know where I am in this business.”

  “I don’t see that it will affect us seriously—in a personal way, that is.”

  “Well, you see, I contracted to work here for at least two years, but if Dr. Charlton leaves and no one comes to take his place I might be sent somewhere else to finish my time.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Andrew, “It does make things a bit awkward, doesn’t it?”

  “Whatever happens, I would like to be married in England if possible, Andrew.”

  “That will mean waiting a long time.”

  “Only a year.”

  “A year seems a long time to me,” he said, then drew her closer. “Of course, you want to be with your family and friends when you get married, Kathie. It’s only natural.”

  “You are a dear, Andrew,” she said softly and kissed his cheek. “So kind and understanding.”

  “I know,” he agreed. “I’m quite perfect and modest, too.”

  “Oh, Andrew, I was being serious,” she laughed.

  “And what makes you think I was not?” he inquired in an aggrieved tone. “I am now, anyway. When your two years are up I’ll take three months’ leave—I have leave due to me now but I won’t take it—then I’ll be able to show you my part of Scotland. It’s in Argyllshire. I was born in Ardrishaig on Loch Gilp. Och, the hours I’ve spent paddling a wee coble around the pier—the water is so clear you can see the flounders lying on the sandy floor of the sea.”

  “You miss it very much, don’t you, Andrew?”

  “Yes, Kathie, I do,” he admitted with a sigh. “This place has its own beauty but sometimes I long for the lochs and the wooded slopes and the tumbling streams. You’ll love it. In summer the lanes are fringed with honeysuckle and wild roses.”

  “It sounds beautiful.”

  “It will be more beautiful to me because you will be there seeing it with me, Kathie.” She laid her head on his shoulder and they were silent for a moment quietly content, he completely happy, she happy in his tender love, having pushed away all other th
oughts for a while. But suddenly she remembered something that shattered the peace of the moment. She straightened up.

  “Andrew!”

  “What’s the matter, my dear? You look bothered.”

  “Have you told your sister—about our engagement?” she asked hesitantly.

  Andrew’s face clouded. “Yes, Kathie, I told her last night.”

  “She hasn’t said anything to me about it,” said Katherine unhappily, “though I’ve seen her several times today. So I wondered if perhaps you had pot told her yet.”

  “It’s no use my pretending Mary is pleased about it, though for the life of me I can’t think why she should not be.”

  “I have tried not to do anything to upset her, but I’m afraid she doesn’t like me very much,” said Katherine, adding to herself, “and that is putting it mildly.”

  “Oh, it can’t be that,” Andrew assured her. “How could she fail to like you when you’re the sweetest, dearest girl in the world?”

  Katherine smiled. “I’m glad you think so, Andrew, but it is possible that not everyone would agree with you.”

  “No one in their right senses would disagree,” he declared stoutly. “No, love. I don’t think it’s anything personal that makes Mary seem unfriendly. It’s as I’ve said, she needs a holiday. She’s never liked this place and the climate is very trying, especially after a couple of years without a break. I told her that I was saving my leave for our wedding and honeymoon and tried to persuade her to go home for a while but she refused. I am sorry about this, Kathie. It spoils things just when I want more than anything for you to be happy.”

  She raised her arms and clasped her hands behind his neck. “I am happy, Andrew,” she said fondly, “and I’m not going to let anything spoil things. So stop worrying.” She laughed. “What a pair we are!” Fretting over all sorts of things we can’t do anything about.”

  “You’re quite right,” said Andrew, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

  “Let’s forget everyone and everything but us,” Katherine said. “Tell me about your life before you came to Nigeria, Andrew. I know very little about you really.”

  “There’s very little to tell. That’s the usual answer when one person asks another to tell them about themselves. But it’s quite true in my case. My life has been uneventful—before I came to Nigeria especially.”

  “Why did you come here, Andrew? I mean, what made you decide to come, not what you came for—if you know what I mean?”

  “I know, Kathie. Since I was a child I’ve heard about missionaries, put my pennies in boxes to help send them abroad and sometimes one would come to talk about his work to the Sunday school. I thought it was wonderful of them to go out to the far corners of the earth to spread the Gospel. Then when I was on vacation from the university, a missionary from Africa came to Ardrishaig. He stayed at the manse and we talked for hours, and by the time he left I’d made up my mind.

  “Didn’t your parents mind you going so far away?”

  “My mother died when I was twelve and father was all in favor of my coming. In fact he rather envied me. I think he would have liked to be a missionary himself when he was younger.”

  “He is a minister too, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. He came to Ardrishaig straight from university and he’s been there ever since. He’s really happy there; he loves the place and the people but sometimes, I fancy, he feels a bit restless.”

  “Tell me about when you were a child.”

  “Well, let’s see. Looking back it seems as though I had two lives. One was my life as the minister’s son, quiet and well behaved—going to the kirk three times on Sundays and handing round scones when we had visitors to tea; then there were the times I was just me. I’d go fishing or riding or roaming about the countryside—usually with Mary.”

  “Didn’t you go to school?”

  “Not until I was ten. Father gave us our early education. Mary went away to school when she was twelve.”

  “You must have missed her when you’d always been together.”

  “Yes, I did, for there weren’t many children in Ardrishaig. But soon after Mary went to school a new doctor came and he had a daughter just a bit younger than me. We became great friends.”

  “Are you still great friends?” asked Katherine, teasingly.

  “Oh, yes,” replied Andrew innocently: “We write to each other as often as we can. Fiona tells me everything that happens at home. Makes me feel not so far away.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “Fiona? She’s a nice girl. Fine horsewoman. She’s a school teacher.”

  “What does she look like?” asked Katherine, picturing a hearty, well-built young woman in jodhpurs.

  “What does she look like?” Andrew repeated, scratching his head as if to help his concentration. “Well, she’s a bit taller than you and she has fair hair and blue eyes. Just a minute, though—“He put his hand into his inside jacket pocket and took out his wallet. “I’ve got a photo of her. There, that’s Fiona.” Katherine took the photograph and saw, to her surprise, a full-length picture of a very pretty girl sitting on a pouffe. She was slender, with a small heart-shaped face framed by a lot of wavy hair. There was nothing written on the photograph. She handed it back to Andrew.

  “She’s lovely.”

  He glanced at it. “Yes, I suppose she is,” he said, as if he had not noticed before. “I have an enlargement of this in my room if you’d like ... er...” he hesitated, looking rather embarrassed, “but this is big enough to let you see what she looks like.”

  “And this one has no affectionate message written on it,” added Katherine with a smile. “Come along now, confess.”

  Andrew laughed. “Och, what a girl you are, ferreting out my guilty secret. Well, now you know all.”

  “Hm. I wonder. I have grave suspicions that this is just the start. For all I know Scotland might be littered with brokenhearted young women simply pining for you.”

  “What an outrageous thing to say,” cried Andrew, affronted. “There may be a few—there’s Flora, Maggie, Annie, Jeannie—”

  “Please, spare me further anguish!” pleaded Katherine. “You’re nothing but a Scottish Don Juan, a ... kilted Casanova. But to get back to Fiona—don’t think I’ve forgotten her—”

  “You don’t mind me writing to her do you, Kathie? Seriously, as I told you, we’ve known each other since we were children.”

  “Of course I don’t mind, Andrew.”

  “Do you want to see the other photograph?”

  “No, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “She had this photo taken for my birthday and—you know how it is—when people are far away they get a wee bit sentimental.” Katherine felt there was more to it than that. She suspected that the girl in the photograph cared more for Andrew than he knew.

  “I should think she misses you very much. She would be sorry when you left Ardrishaig.”

  “Oh, she’s too busy to have time to miss me,” he declared. “I thought she had her hands full before, with her teaching all the week and in Sunday school and singing in the choir. But every letter I get seems to tell me of some new job she’s taken on—doing her. father’s clerical work, forming a class for Scottish dancing or keep-fit exercises...” It did not need much imagination to see that this was a lonely girl’s way of filling in her time, reflected Katherine.

  “Have you written to her about our engagement?” she asked.

  “Yes. You’ll be getting a letter from her. You might even meet her before long.”

  “When we go home, you mean?”

  “No, perhaps before that. For some time she’s been thinking of coming out here to help with the school. She wanted to come with me when I first came but her mother was ill. Now that Mrs. Graham is well again I’m expecting Fiona to write and tell me that she has applied to the Mission Society to be sent here.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The next few days dragged slowly by. Mark Charlton seemed preocc
upied and unable to concentrate; he did his work but was often irritable with the staff; he complained about the lack of space and the poor facilities, which he had never done before.

  Katherine tried to carry on in the normal way but she felt on edge all the time, expecting every day that Mark would tell her that he was leaving Ngombe, and as each day passed and he had not said anything, wondering if perhaps he did not mean to go. But she would tell herself that this was a waste of time. One only had to look at Elizabeth Frayne to see that the matter had been decided in the way she had intended it should be. After an unsettling week Katherine went into the office to give Mark the report of the day’s work. It was 8:30 and he was sitting at his table with his head resting on his hands. When she entered he rubbed his face and looked up at her.

  “I’ve brought the report, Doctor. Tegu is running a high temperature and I think Joseph is a bit nervous about him. He would feel happier if you had a look at the boy.”

  “It’s time Joseph learned to stand on his own two feet,” Mark snapped. “I can’t be everywhere at once.” Katherine was astonished at the sharpness in his voice. He noticed this, and said more gently, “I’m sorry, Nurse. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I’ll go and see the boy in a few minutes. Sit down will you? I have something to tell you.”

  Katherine sat down, feeling depressed. This was it. At last he was going to tell her something she had been expecting for what now seemed a very long time.

  Mark did not look at her as he said quickly, “I’m writing to the Mission Society to tell them I wish to leave Ngombe. I’m asking them to send someone to replace me.” He stopped and waited for her to say something. Katherine did not know what to say, She was feeling sorry for him. He was not happy about this. “I ... I’m sorry, Doctor,” she stammered. He nodded, aimlessly tidying some papers on his table. “Yes. Well, so am I, in a way. But I think the job I took on was beyond me. There’s so much to do. It’s been rather like trying to keep back the tide with a broom. One gets very discouraged, especially with the constant shortages of everything.”