“Steady on!” laughed Mark. “Don’t let’s get carried away. It’s only an idea at the moment, though it may be a practical one. However, I have something else in mind that will be easier to bring about.”
“What’s that?” asked Andrew.
“Well, now that I’m staying here I want to get to work on a house of my own. Mastingley can share it with me. We’ve trespassed on your hospitality long enough.”
“You’re more than welcome, you know that,” replied the clergyman warmly. “I wish we could offer you more.”
“You’ve done all you could to make us comfortable and I’m grateful, but we do need more space. A single-story building won’t take long to put up.”
As the two men discussed the new project, Katherine was not listening. She had not heard any of the conversation since Mark had said, “Now that I’m staying ... With those few words he had lifted a weight from her heart and removed the last stubborn fear that he might have changed his mind again about staying. Now she was content. Content to know that she still loved Mark and always would; accepting that he did not love her and never would; happy that Andrew loved her and that, in a different way from her feeling for Mark, she loved Andrew.
Also she was thinking that Mark’s change of plans meant that his love for Elizabeth Frayne was not as strong as Katherine had supposed.
Then came a less welcome thought. How would Elizabeth Frayne take the news? Would she accept it philosophically and let him go or would she fight back, perhaps even return to Ngombe to try to persuade him again to leave.
On the whole, Katherine did not think the clever and lovely doctor would lower her pride to plead with a man after he had rejected her, nor would she want to risk another defeat. “Hey! Wake up, Kathie!” It was Andrew’s voice that brought her back to reality.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I was dreaming. What did you say?”
“Charlton wants you to help with the new house,” Andrew told her.
“Oh, yes, of course. I’d like to!” she answered, looking at Mark. He smiled, “Thanks, Nurse. We’ll have to do our shopping from catalogues, but you will know what to choose better than I. I have a few things at home that I’d like to have here. My desk and my books especially.”
Dr. Mastingley came in then, so the other three left the table and Katherine went to find a boy to clear away the coffee things. When she went back into the living room, the two doctors were talking earnestly together.
Andrew got up. “Let’s leave these two medicos to talk shop,” he said to her. “Let’s go out onto the porch, shall we? It’s a nice night.”
Outside, the moon was shining clearly, silvering the river and making deep, black shadows in the forest behind it. The air was fresh and comparatively cool, and Katherine breathed it in gratefully. It was a pleasant change after months of heavy, damp heat. She said, “It’s a beautiful place, especially at night.”
Standing beside her, Andrew nodded, “Yes, it is. Yet, you know, when I first came here and for quite a long time after, I didn’t like it at all. It’s all so very different from Scotland. After miles of open, windswept moorland, the forest seemed to stifle me; but, gradually, I came to appreciate the delights of this country—the magnificent trees, the river with its little islands, the feelings of throbbing life all around.”
“But the beauty of so much of the country does make the other side—the poverty and disease—worse somehow,” said Katherine.
“I know. I’ve often thought that myself, but we can only do our best to relieve the misery, and hope that one day it will be possible to wipe it out altogether.” For a few minutes, they did not speak, then Andrew put his arm around Katherine’s shoulders and said, “Listening to Charlton talking about building a new house and buying furniture and so on reminds me that this place could do with a bit of renovating.”
A bit of renovating! Katherine smiled to herself. It could do with being pulled down and completely rebuilt. The porch railing, which her hand was resting on, felt as if it would break away at a slight push. She said, “Yes, it could stand a little brightening up.”
“Of course, we can’t do much about the house itself, but we can sport some new curtains and rugs. Then, later on, before we are married, we might do something more ambitious—get a few new pieces of furniture, perhaps. There now, aren’t you a lucky lass?”
Katherine rubbed her cheek affectionately against his arm. “Yes, I am. Very lucky, Andrew,” she said softly.
His arm tightened around her. “You’re sweet to say that, Kathie. Most women getting married expect a nice, modern house with electricity and all the labor-saving gadgets. They take them for granted.”
“If those things were important to me, I would not have come to Ngombe, would I? I knew I wouldn’t have them here and I didn’t think it mattered. I still don’t. Anyway, girls who have modern houses and all the rest, don’t have four helpers to do the work. I’d rather have Moses than a vacuum cleaner any day, so stop worrying about it.”
“I will, pet, but we’ll do what we can to cheer this place up.”
Thinking over this conversation as she lay in bed that night, Katherine mused that the lack of modern conveniences was the least of her worries in connection with her marriage. Her biggest worry was Mary Kennedy. Katherine had not liked to ask Andrew whether or not his sister would return to Ngombe after the wedding, but she earnestly hoped that Mary would stay at home in Scotland. All Katherine’s attempts to be friendly with the prickly Scotswoman had been met with a coldness that bordered on rudeness. Indeed, the older woman was hardly polite to anyone except Andrew. If her attitude did not alter, and there seemed no reason to believe it would, then life would be very uncomfortable for the three of them. With Mark and Dr. Mastingley in their own house, it would be even harder to keep up an appearance of normality.
But it was unlikely that Miss Kennedy would want to return to Africa after seeing Scotland again, Katherine thought hopefully. She had never liked Nigeria and had only come out of a sense of duty, in order to run the house for her brother; so surely she would be only too pleased to be relieved of the task.
The flaw in this argument, which Katherine could not hide from herself, was that Mary Kennedy was deeply attached to her brother. Even a solitary creature, such as Mary Kennedy was, might not wish to live thousands of miles from the one person she loved. Katherine felt sorry for her; so lonely and unhappy, but that did not make her any easier to live with.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A start was made on the new house almost at once. It was to be built on a grassy slope about 200 yards from the hospital, facing the river.
Mark was able to take a fair amount of time off from the hospital to supervise the laborers. Understanding this, Dr. Mastingley offered to take over most of Mark’s usual work.
The two doctors and Andrew had to do the more tricky jobs themselves, and as none of them had any experience in carpentry, they learned as they went along, making many mistakes on the way.
The local men were intrigued because Mark had determined that, whatever the difficulties, his house was going to have an open fireplace.
There was another thing that caused many eyes to pop out of faces. Half-asleep, Katherine was sitting on the porch when the interesting object arrived. Hearing shouting and laughter, she reluctantly opened her eyes to see what appeared to be a very strange animal. It had a large white shell on its back and a lot of legs it seemed to have control over. With much stumbling and staggering, it made its unsteady way toward the new house. As it passed Katherine, she sat up, laughing. The “strange animal” was a white porcelain bathtub carried by a dozen boys who had just unloaded it from a boat.
As the house neared completion, it was never without its audience of awestruck villagers.
One evening about 10 o’clock, Mark, dusty and untidy, burst into the mission house living room where Katherine and Andrew were looking through some mail-order catalogues.
“It’s in!” he declared in t
riumph. “Come over and see it.” The others jumped up at once. They knew what he meant. Inside the new house, Mark flung open a door and stood aside to let them enter. There, in all its shining white glory, was installed the bath, complete with two gleaming chromium taps.
For a second the three of them stood in silent admiration. Apart from the bath the room was quite bare, but that did not matter. The important thing was, as Mark said proudly, “It works!” He hurried away and came back with a paraffin can full of water. This he emptied into the bath. “Now, watch!” he commanded, and ceremoniously removed the plug.
As the last drop disappeared, he turned to Katherine. Looking at his beaming face she thought what a strange mixture of sophistication and simplicity he was. “Well, Nurse,” he said gaily, “another operation performed successfully.”
“She laughed. “The ‘patient’ looks fine.”
He nodded. “It’s a bit deceptive, of course, until the taps work, too, but this is an improvement on the old system.” They congratulated him, and then he said, “We’re having trouble getting the fire to burn properly. Mastingley is trying to locate the fault now. Let’s go in and see how he’s getting on.”
The sitting room and dining room combined ran the full length of the building. There was a large, low window at each end and a modern black-tiled fireplace opposite the door.
Before the fireplace crouched the usually dapper Dr. Mastingley. Now he wore very creased, grubby, fawn-colored shirt and trousers. His sleeves were rolled up and his hands and arms were grimy from continually taking out charred wood from the grate.
He grinned up at them as they joined him. “How I regret never having been a boy scout,” he sighed. “I’ve probably been using the wrong wood. I refuse to believe there’s anything wrong with the chimney. I’ll have one more try. Cross your fingers, everybody, and say a prayer to the household gods—saving your presence, Kennedy—now!” He set the lighted match to the crumpled paper and the flames began to lick at the pyramid of sticks he had carefully arranged. Gradually they took hold and a thin column of smoke curled up the chimney. Gently, almost tenderly, Dr. Mastingley placed more fuel on the fire. The rich resinous wood crackled and spluttered, flaming green, yellow and blue.
Standing up, Dr. Mastingley wiped his face with his handkerchief. “It seems to be drawing pretty well now,” he said tentatively.
“Well done, Mastingley,” said Mark, slapping his colleague on the back. “That’s our two big problems solved. Most of the furniture has arrived so we’ll be able to move in quite soon.”
It was nearly Christmas now and it was decided that the two doctors should move into the new house early in the New Year.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Andrew had resolved that New Year’s Eve would be celebrated in the traditional manner or as near to it as could be managed. After a good dinner they would have some music and songs. Then, as midnight approached, Mark, as the darkest man present, would go outside. When 12 o’clock came he would knock on the door and be let in, bringing good luck to the house for the New Year. This custom of a dark man being “first foot” over the threshold was new to Dr. Mastingley and had to be explained. Andrew, with mock solemnity, declared it to be a pagan rite and quite out of place in a minister’s house.
Katherine dressed carefully that evening. She thought that here at last was an opportunity to wear the pink silk dress and shoes that had not been out of the cupboard since she unpacked them a year ago. She took the dress out now. It had not lost any of its smoothness, and its simple style made it suitable for this evening’s celebration.
She had washed and set her hair earlier—one thing there was always a good supply of in Ngombe was soft rain water—and now she brushed it until it shone.
Next she put on the dress. How luxurious it felt after months of wearing linen and cotton. The tiny pearl earrings Ann had sent her as a Christmas gift were just right; then, with pink lipstick and a touch of perfume, she was ready.
Taking a last look in her mirror at her bright eyes and slightly flushed cheeks, she smiled. She looked so excited she might have been going to a grand ball instead of lo a very small gathering in a forest village.
The living room was empty when she went in. It was decorated with trailing greenery, and on the large sideboard was a nativity scene made by the school children. The furniture had been given an extra polish, and it shone in the lamplight. The room looked quite festive, thought Katherine, and, feeling gay herself, she twirled around so that her full skirt swung out. Oh, it was nice to be wearing high-heeled shoes. She pirouetted again and then came to an abrupt stop. Mark Charlton was standing in the doorway watching her, his pipe clenched between his teeth. He was smiling. “Do you prefer to dance alone or may I have the pleasure of dancing with you?”
He pushed his pipe into his pocket and came toward her. Her heart began to pound in a most uncomfortable way, and she seemed to have no breath to reply. With a tremulous smile she nodded and moved into his arms. “Since we have no music we’d better agree on which dance we’re to do,” he said, looking down at her. “Shall we waltz?” She nodded again. “Good. It’s the only one I can do properly. Now, what’s that tune they used to play at the staff dances for the last waltz?”
“ ‘Always,’ ” said Katherine, remembering how she had watched him dance that last waltz with Elizabeth Frayne.
“That’s the one. ‘Always,’ ” He gave a little bow, drew her closer and, humming the tune uncertainly in his deep voice, lead her into the dance.
How many times had she imagined the feel of his arms around her? So many, many times. And now she was in his arms, but only for a moment. What sweet sadness there was in that moment.
When it was over he released her and bowed again. “That was delightful. Thank you, Nurse—no, I can’t call you ‘Nurse’ tonight,” he said. In his eyes was the awareness she had longed for. He was seeing her as a woman and she did not think she was imagining the admiration in his look. “You don’t look a bit like Nurse Marlowe, so I’ll have to call you Katherine. I don’t think Kennedy will mind if we have a drink, now. I see he’s acquired a couple of bottles from somewhere.”
He poured two glasses of sherry and gave her one. “I’m glad we have this few minutes alone, Katherine. I’d like us to drink a toast together—just you and I. We’ve worked hard in this year that’s ending and I think we can be moderately pleased with what we’ve achieved. So let’s drink to a good year’s work.” He raised his glass. Raising hers, Katherine added, “And to another just about to begin.” He nodded. “Yes, indeed. I have a lot of plans I want to get busy on in the next twelve months. For one thing, we must do something to spread the load and save patients long journeys wherever possible. My idea is to set up small clinics in the outlying villages with a nurse in charge to do dressings, dole out medicines, and give injections. That will ease the work here considerably.”
“Yes, it will,” agreed Katherine,” and perhaps the nurses will be able to spot cases that need hospital treatment in the early stages.”
“And with the extra beds in the new annex we’ll get the waiting list down quickly.”
The hospital had been empty for a few days to allow the inside to be cleaned and disinfected. Katherine asked if they would begin admitting patients next day.
“Yes, we can’t keep the hospital closed any longer. But I didn’t mean to talk about the hospital at all tonight. I was going to concentrate on idle chatter.”
“I don’t mind talking shop,” replied Katherine quietly. “I’m as interested in the hospital as you are.”
“I know, Nurse—Katherine—and I’m grateful. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly for all you've done. It’s only quite recently that I realized what a lot I was expecting when I asked you to come here. I took it for granted that you would come, and that you would be equal to whatever you were called upon to do. It was only when I discovered how this place appeared to another woman that I really appreciated what you were doing
.”
Confused by his praise, she murmured, “I ... I’ve been happy to do what I could.”
“Yes. That’s what’s so remarkable,” he responded eagerly. “I believe you have been happy. There are very few young women who would have come to a remote mission station, worked long, hard hours for only a pittance and still have managed to be happy.”
“There have been compensations to make up for those things.”
“There may have been, but still I think you’re an unusual woman.”
Katherine stared into her empty glass, trying to think of something to say that would steer the conversation away from herself. The hospital was a nice safe subject; better get back to that.
“Do you think we’ll be able to start work on the new hospital fairly soon?” she asked a little unsteadily.
“I hope so. We can’t keep on adding to the original building. We really need a group of buildings: a surgical block with a larger operating room and an anesthetic room; a medical block, and an out-patients block, all with proper plumbing, of course.” He grinned. “I dream of hot water systems as some men dream of fast cars or beautiful women. But all this will take time and money—especially money. I’ve sent an outline of my plans to the Society but I haven’t had a reply yet. They may cough up the cost before too long.”
Andrew hurried in, followed by his sister. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “We had a bit of a panic in the kitchen; we didn’t have a pot big enough for the chicken and I thought I was going to have to ask you to perform a major operation on the bird, Charlton. However, Moses was able to borrow a larger pot. Dinner will be a little late, I’m afraid, but that will give us time to have a leisurely drink. Can I fill your glass, Kathie?” As he took her glass he noticed her dress. “I haven’t seen this outfit before, have I? Mm, it’s very pretty and so are you—but more of that later,” he smiled, then turned to his sister. “Mary, let me give you a glass of sherry—just a wee drop?” he coaxed, but she refused and went to sit stiffly in a corner.
Outpost Hospital Page 13