Dr. Mastingley joined the party a few minutes later. He seemed to be unusually relaxed and cheerful. Andrew gave him a drink and asked how his research was going.
“It’s going very well, very well indeed. I think I’m on the threshold of an important discovery but I don’t want to talk about it until I’m sure.”
“Well, that’s something else to celebrate,” said Andrew. “I think the next twelve months are going to be important ones for Ngombe. If Dr. Mastingley succeeds in finding a cure for sleeping sickness, and when Charlton gets his splendid new hospital, we might become quite famous.”
After dinner, Andrew played and sang Scottish folksongs for a while. Then Dr. Mastingley surprised his listeners by revealing a gift for storytelling. He explained that he had spent his childhood and youth in Ireland and had passed many hours sitting by peat fires listening to the old men recount their tales.
Now he kept his small audience entranced with his stories of the little people and the terrible giants; of St. Patrick and St. Brigid. As he talked he relapsed into a rich brogue that contrasted strangely with his usual dry, precise tones.
All attempts to draw Mary Kennedy into the happy circle failed. She remained sitting in her corner, her hands clasped in her lap, her face getting longer as the evening went on. But the others gradually forgot her and enjoyed the unaccustomed break from work and seriousness.
They sang carols together and then, a few minutes before midnight, checked the exact time by their watches. This was when they discovered that Mary Kennedy was not in the room. None of them had seen her leave. “She must see the New Year in with us,” said Andrew. “I daresay she’s gone to her room or something—I’ll fetch her.” He went out, but a minute later he came back alone, looking puzzled. “She’s not there and none of the boys has seen her. It’s very odd, isn’t it? But it’s almost midnight. I’ll fill up the glasses and then we can toast the New Year, the second Charlton comes in. Right. Just a minute to go.” Mark went out. Andrew slipped an arm around Katherine’s shoulders and they stood looking at their watches. They heard the front door open and close; then, as the pointers of their watches met on twelve, a shout tore across the still, quiet air.
For a fraction of a second the three people stared at each other in bewilderment. Then Katherine ran to the window. It was wide open. She was sure it had been Mark who had called out. It had sounded like “Oh, my God!” She soon saw the reason. There was a blinding light against the blackness of the forest. The hospital! It was on fire! In the same instant she saw Mark’s tall figure racing toward the blaze, and she clambered over the low sill on to the porch. “Mark, come back! Mark!” she screamed, hardly knowing what she was saying.
As she ran after him, her high heels caught in the long grass and tripped her up. She got to her feet and dashed on.
“He’ll be killed, he’ll be killed,” was the only thought in her head.
When she paused for a moment at the hospital steps, she saw that the worst of the blaze was on the side where the wards were. Thank God no patients were there! At that side the roof sagged and seemed about to collapse. She ran through the door. The passage was full of thick smoke but was not on fire yet. Her eyes were stinging and full of tears so that she could hardly see. “Mark, where are you? Mark!” she sobbed. Then she saw him. He was lying on his face across the passage and halfway into the clinic room.
She knelt down beside him. There was a deep wound on his head. Putting her hands under his shoulders she tried to drag him toward the door. The crackling of the flames grew louder, and there was an overpowering smell of kerosene.
“Kathie, are you all right? Get out of here quickly. We’ll see to Charlton.” It was Andrew, with Dr. Mastingley.
As they bent to pick up Mark, Katherine slipped into the clinic room.
“I must get the drugs out,” she told herself. This was obviously what Mark had meant to do when something fell on his head and knocked him unconscious. The cupboard was locked and Mark had the key. She would have to move the whole thing. Fortunately it was a small cupboard, standing on a shelf.
When she staggered to the door with it in her arms, she saw that the passage was ablaze. There was only the small window she could use. Frantically, she pushed the cupboard onto the sill, then lowered it carefully onto the porch and scrambled out after it. How heavy it was. How would she ever get it away before the whole hospital collapsed?
“Kathie, thank God you’re safe! I thought you’d gone back to the house.” It was Andrew again, his face grimed and anxious. “Come away, love.”
“The drugs, Andrew,” she said vaguely.
Without another word he lifted her up and put her over the porch railing onto the grass. “Stay there!” he ordered. “I’ll get this stuff to a safe place.” He grabbed the cupboard and stumbled across to the laboratory with it; then he came back to Katherine.
She was where he had deposited her. She could not have moved if she had tried, for her legs were shaking violently.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her back to the house. There he laid her gently on her bed, stroking back the hair that fell across her forehead. Her mind was still confused and she could not think clearly about what had happened.
“I’ll get Dr. Mastingley to come and have a look at you,” said Andrew.
“No, I’m all right. He must stay with Mar—” She caught her breath. She had been going to say Mark. Then she remembered she had said “Mark” before—had said it out loud. Horrified, she stared at Andrew. Did he know? Had she given herself away completely?
He was smiling at her, but it was a sad smile. “That’s all right, Kathie. Don’t worry, I know how you feel.”
“You ... know?”
“Yes. You love him,” he said simply. “It was there in your face when you saw he was in danger and you forgot everything else.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Her mind was clear now, and the clearest thing in it was that Andrew knew that she was in love with Mark. After all the months of trying to stifle it and push it into the back of her heart, telling herself she was getting over it, it had come out. It was a relief in a way, for it had troubled her to know she was not being entirely open and honest with Andrew. But it meant that she had lost the man who loved her, a man she could have found happiness with, and now she was left with nothing.
And what of Andrew? Was his love for her as deep and lasting as hers for Mark? She hoped not. Then he might find another girl to give his gentle heart to. Perhaps pretty Fiona Graham. He was already fond of her.
These thoughts went through her mind as she lay there with her hand in Andrew’s, but above all was her anxiety about Mark. She was too concerned about him to worry very deeply about anything else.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Andrew patted her hand and said, “I’ll go and ask Dr. Mastingley to come and see you, and if he says you’re all right, he might let you go and see Charlton.” He stood up and, with a little smile, went out of the room.
A moment later Dr. Mastingley hurried in. “This is a very unfortunate beginning to the new year, Nurse, very unfortunate,” he said, taking her wrist. Katherine had forgotten it was New Year’s Day. It must be less than an hour since they had all happily looked forward to a good year when their ambitions would be realized. Dr. Mastingley hoped for success in his research into sleeping sickness; Mark hoped to see a fine new hospital; but now there was no hospital at all. It was burned down. How? The strong smell of kerosene came back to her. Why had there been kerosene in the empty building? Oil for the lamps was kept in the wash house, quite separate from the main building.
“You’ll be fine, after a good rest, Nurse,” said Dr. Mastingley. “A little shocked, so take it easy for a day or two.”
“How is Dr. Charlton?” she asked, trying not to look too anxious.
“He’s still unconscious,” was the reply, “He had a nasty crack on the head. One of the roof supports must have fallen on him—there wasn’t time to investiga
te. He’ll come around soon I think though, and not be much the worse.”
“May I go and see him—just for a minute, please, Doctor?”
Dr. Mastingley looked rather surprised at her request. “You ought to get straight to bed and have a good sleep. It’s one o’clock, you know,” he told her; but seeing the plea in her eyes he relented. “Very well. Go and see him. If you feel quite well you might sit with him till I can get back, in case he recovers consciousness. I have to go and see Miss Kennedy now.”
“Miss Kennedy? Is she ill?” asked Katherine, sitting up and putting her feet over the side of the bed. She discovered she had no shoes on. She must have lost them when she tripped in the long grass running to the hospital.
Dr. Mastingley did not reply at once, and looking up at him, she saw that he was extremely uncomfortable.
“She’s not ill exactly,” he said eventually, “that is, not physically. I ... er ...” He seemed not to be able to make up his mind what to say, then he went on quickly. “Nurse Marlowe, this is very difficult, but I think it will be best if I tell you everything. We don’t want to cause Kennedy any more pain than we must.”
“Andrew? Why—What do you mean?”
“The hospital catching fire was not an accident.”
“Not an accident,” she repeated. “I had begun to wonder how it could have happened.”
“Yes. I thought you might. That’s why I’m telling you this—so that you can avoid saying anything that will make it harder for Kennedy. For his sake we must keep up the fiction that it was accidental.”
“You mean it was Miss Kennedy...?” she faltered.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I was suspicious from the start about the cause of the fire. There was the strong smell of kerosene, and I knew there should have been none in the building; and then I remembered how Miss Kennedy had disappeared from the party without saying a word. So when we got Charlton into bed and Kennedy came to look for you, I went along to Miss Kennedy’s room. She was there on her bed weeping hysterically. The front of her dress was soaked in kerosene.”
“But why did she do it?” asked Katherine, baffled.
“I think it’s the culmination of something that’s been building up in her for the past year. I’ve only been here a few months myself and I’ve been very much wrapped up in my own work but, even so, I couldn’t help being aware of the strained atmosphere whenever Miss Kennedy was around.”
“I know she didn’t want us here. She made that clear from the start, but to do this ... she’s making the people that live here suffer as well as us,” said Katherine unhappily.
“I’m not a psychiatrist, but as far as I can make it out she made a sacrifice in coming here with her brother. She thought he should repay her by his exclusive affection. She’s a possessive woman, and when her brother fell in love with you and became engaged to you, her resentment grew until tonight she became unbalanced for a time.”
Katherine shuddered. “How awful. Poor Miss Kennedy. I didn’t think she hated us so much.”
“Try not to worry too much about it, Nurse. I know you won’t judge her too harshly. This climate can make things more difficult to cope with than they would be in Britain.”
“But why did she do this, Doctor? Why set fire to the, hospital? What good did she think it would do her?”
“As I said, she was unbalanced when she did it; it was done on a mad impulse. She probably hoped you and Charlton would be so discouraged you would pack up and go.”
“You don’t think he will—Dr. Charlton I mean—you don’t think he will give up?”
“Not he! No, he’ll be starting on a new hospital the minute he’s out of bed, you’ll see. Now, remember to pretend you believe the fire was an accident when you talk to Kennedy. I’ve had a few words with him, and he’s going to arrange for a missionary couple from one of the stations in the district to take his place here. Then he’ll be able to take his sister home for a long holiday and...” He hesitated, looking at Katherine, his eyes behind the thick glasses full of understanding. “It will do them both good.” He turned at the door. “Don’t forget what I said about the ‘accident.’ ”
“I won’t forget,” Katherine assured him. “Now I’ll go and sit with Dr. Charlton.”
Standing up, she remembered that she had no shoes on. Her white working shoes were under the chair, so she pushed her feet into them and went to Mark’s room. She paused inside the door. He was lying very still on his back, his head bandaged. She listened. His breathing was fast and regular. There was a chair beside the bed and she went quickly over and sat down. His face was pale despite the suntan.
Timidly she put her fingers on his wrist. The pulse was rapid. She wondered fearfully if he was more seriously hurt than Dr. Mastingley thought. A head injury could be dangerous, and it was not easy to tell at first how bad it was. But she would not think of such things. He was going to be all right; he must, he must.
How moving it was to see this big strong man lying there so helpless. She felt a rush of love for him and longed to kneel beside the bed and kiss his pale lips. Dare she? He would never know. She must just feel his lips under hers once. It was her only chance. Slowly she got down to her knees and leaned toward him. She was trembling. Then his eyelids flickered, and she started back like a frightened bird.
Sitting on her chair again, she tried to compose herself. He was beginning to regain consciousness. His lips were moving, and he was making little moaning sounds.
“Oh, my head!” he groaned, putting a hand up to his forehead. When it touched the bandage, he muttered, “What’s this?” and his eyes opened. Gradually they focussed on Katherine’s face.
“Hullo, Nurse. No it’s Katherine now, isn’t it? You still got your party dress on.”
She looked down at her dress. Her lovely pink silk dress; it was ruined! There was a patch of green where she had fallen on her knees in the grass, and a tear in the skirt. But it didn’t matter. He had called her Katherine.
“What’s been happening?” he asked muzzily.
“You had an accident. A beam fell on your head and knocked you out, but don’t think about it now. You’ll be better soon,” she soothed.
“But why did a beam fall on my head?” he persisted. “We were having a party—a New Year’s party—and I went outside to wait for midnight and then—Oh, God!” As the memory came back to him, his face contracted with pain. “The hospital—it was a mass of flames. I ran across to try to get the drugs out but—”
“The drugs are safe, don’t worry about that.”
“Safe? How’s that? I didn’t get them away before I passed out, did I?”
“No. You were in the doorway when the roof support fell on you. I managed to put the cupboard out of the window onto the porch and Andrew carried it over to the laboratory.”
“That was very brave of you. You weren’t hurt?” He looked at her anxiously. “The place looked ready to collapse when I went in. You’re sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, quite all right. How do you feel now? Is your head painful? Shall I get Dr. Mastingley?”
“No. It’s not too bad. I suppose the hospital’s a total wreck?”
“I’m afraid so,” Katherine admitted reluctantly, hoping he would not ask too many questions about how the fire had started. But he did not seem to be concerned about that. He turned his head away with a groan. “What’s the use of trying? All our work undone in a few minutes and now we’re right back where we started, having to build a new hospital and equip it. No, I can’t do it. This has finished me.”
Her heart ached for him as she searched for words of comfort. “Don’t say that, please, Doctor. You can’t give up. This hasn’t undone all our work. Our work is in the patients we’ve cured, not in the building, and after all, it wasn’t a very good building, was it? You said it was only a makeshift until you could get the money for a proper one. Well, perhaps now the Society will give you the money and you will have a new hospital soon. Then this will have been a
blessing in disguise.”
As she talked, desperately trying to say something that would make the despair leave his eyes, she saw that his eyes were watching her face closely. Gradually the misery gave way to something else—admiration, almost wonder. Suddenly shyness overcame her and she faltered, “I—I sound like Pollyanna.”
“Pollyanna?”
“You know, there’s a series of books about her—she was an awful child who could always see the bright side of things no matter how black they looked.” Katherine gave this explanation, staring at her shoes. White canvas shoes! What a mess she must look! White-laced shoes—well, they weren’t even laced now—and a dirty, pink dress. She could only guess the state her hair was in.
“I know what you mean,” Mark was saying, “a permanent ray of sunshine. Nothing is more depressing. But you aren’t one of those. I think I told you earlier this evening how I appreciate your qualities as a nurse. I’m still a bit muzzy but I remember that. Now I know you’re not only a very good nurse—you’re a brave sweet girl.” He put out his hand and took hers, holding it tightly.
Katherine raised her eyes to his face. He was smiling a little, his blue eyes warm and tender. The events of the last hour seemed to have melted all his reserve. “Kennedy is a lucky fellow,” he said quietly.
Katherine took a deep breath and decided not to let this moment slip through her fingers.
“Andrew and I are not going to be married,” she said, holding her breath.
“You’re not? This must have happened very recently. I’m so sorry. What went wrong? Or don’t you want to talk about it?” he asked kindly.
“I’d like to if you don’t mind. I’m sorry too, because I’ve hurt Andrew and I’m fond of him but I should not have said I would marry him because—” she hesitated, and then rushed on “—because I’m in love with someone else and he found out about it tonight.”
Outpost Hospital Page 14