Jill was scarcely aware of Harriet’s words. There was only one thing uppermost in her mind, the knowledge that Harriet was leaving—leaving her alone to face Duncan McRey in the confined space of her tiny office. There was nothing she could do but acknowledge Harriet’s words with a wan smile. Then, aware that the door had closed behind her friend, she had no option but to turn and face her companion.
“Well, are my other cases ready?” He spoke with a hint of impatience, which became even more marked as Jill remained silent, blankly returning his gaze. “My cases for the clinic, are they ready?”
“I’ll see. ... I mean I didn’t know that you saw outpatients here,” Jill stammered uneasily, as she turned towards the door.
“I always have a clinic after my round on Wednesdays—surely you knew that?” There was no mistaking his rising anger. “I’m too busy to be kept hanging about. Better call Nurse Malling, she’ll know about it.”
Jill felt her cheeks flush with anger at the implication. How true it was. Brenda Malling had everything at her finger-tips. Did he really expect her so far to humiliate herself as to recall Brenda Malling from the task she had set her, the task which Jill alone knew she had so well merited. Choking back her anger, she spoke. “I’m sorry everything isn’t ready for you—it’s difficult at first, there is so much to learn...”
“I’ve no time to teach,” Duncan McRey broke in shortly. “Call Nurse Malling and let me get on with my work.”
With unsteady fingers Jill turned the handle of the door and was at least relieved to find that Brenda, her undignified job completed, was advancing down the corridor from the ward. “Nurse Malling, Dr. McRey tells me he has a clinic today—why didn’t you tell me about it?” Jill asked quietly.
“He only has a few discharged cases up for occasional X-ray or screening: children he wants to keep an eye on,” Brenda explained. “Anyway, I thought you knew.”
“How could I know, you tell me nothing ... Where does he hold the clinic, how many cases are there for today?”
“None,” Brenda announced sourly, then with exaggerated kindliness added, “I should, of course, have told you had there been any waiting.”
Biting back the angry words which sprang to her lips, Jill turned round and re-entered her office. “I have asked Nurse Malling, there are no cases today.” Then, quite unexpectedly, Jill’s latent sense of humour came to her rescue, her anger was forgotten, and even the unfortunate episode of the broken syringe ceased to rankle. “That means you have a few moments to spare. I hope you’ll wait for a cup of tea!”
CHAPTER FOUR
As each day had passed and Jill had completed her first ten days at St. Joseph’s, she became even more convinced that her earlier optimism had been unjustified. Seated at her bedroom window overlooking a dreary vista of sweeping rain which almost blotted the landscape, she felt that her mood fitted in only too readily with the storm. Leaning her chin on her hands, she stared across the drenched garden to the leaden sky beyond. How it all matched her own feeling of depression and frustration—yes, frustration was the word which best described her feelings. Already in these few days she had grown to love her new job. It satisfied a longing for independence in her work which she had hitherto never known, and despite Duncan McRey’s ungracious attitude she had become imbued with some of his own enthusiasm. He had the power to add an ever-increasing interest to what might have been to any nurse merely an everyday routine. This new post of responsibility should have been the reward for her years of drudgery, yet it had brought her nothing but heartache and disappointment; it seemed to Jill in that moment of despair that everything had conspired against her. It might be a just retribution for over-confidence, but those high hopes with which she had first entered St. Joseph’s had been all too quickly dashed to the ground. Everything she had done appeared to have gone wrong, and that very morning an incident of lost case notes had seemed the very last straw.
The notes on Mary Miles had been missing from the ward. Jill was certain that, after completing them the previous evening, she had replaced them in the holder at the foot of Mary’s bed. The most exhaustive hunt had proved unavailing. The junior nurses, who had from the first been friendly towards Jill, had hunted everywhere without success. The resulting storm, when Duncan McRey had demanded the notes, had been no better nor worse than Jill had expected. His scathing criticism of her carelessness had whipped the colour into Jill’s cheeks, and she had realized the futility of venturing any excuse.
Brenda’s belated but triumphant discovery of the notes in a drawer of Jill’s desk hadn’t improved the atmosphere. Dr. McRey had said little, but his attitude had shown only too clearly what he thought of her for having stated so emphatically that she had herself replaced them where they belonged. Excuses would have fallen on deaf ears and would only have added to her humiliation. She had been bewildered and distressed, unable to understand, yet unwilling to believe that anyone else could have been responsible for the error.
The rain splashed persistently against the panes and beat a tattoo on the roof above. It was as if the sound were beating in her brain, and with an unconscious movement Jill covered her ears with her hands as if she would shut out the maddening sound. Things would never straighten out. She’d assured Harriet she’d win through, but then she hadn’t known ... She had intended to give of her best, and with that confidence even Duncan McRey presented no problem, but things hadn’t turned out that way. She’d failed utterly, and a far less demanding nature than his would have been justifiably dissatisfied.
Sunsand Bay! At that moment she hated it! Its deserted promenade and wide stretch of angry foam-flecked ocean reflected her depression and loneliness, and she could scarcely believe it was so short a time since, with excitement and not a little pride she had left the busy London terminus on this journey to the coast. Her hopes had been high, the idea of this promotion exciting, yet now she would have given much to be back in her secure position at Baldwin’s.
Jill leaned back in her wicker armchair and half closed her eyes. She had enjoyed renewing her friendship with Harriet, but that was the only bright spot of the present situation. In fairness she had to admit that Philip Traven had been charming, too, and she had enjoyed her first free afternoon when they had walked together across the ploughed fields along the edge of the shelving cliffs. She had been diffident at first about renewing their friendship, Brenda Malling’s animosity was no longer easily ignored, but throwing discretion to the winds she had accepted what small diversion Sunsand had to offer. She’d had dinner once with Harriet; it had been a delight to return to the charming intimacy of her friend’s house, but that pleasure could not often be repeated since taxis were uncertain and the journey well beyond the limits of the small town.
The tap on the door awoke Jill from her reverie, and she rose quickly to welcome Harriet’s unexpected appearance. “Do come in. I was just thinking about you.”
“Something nice I hope.” Harriet sank into the only other chair the room boasted and, taking a cigarette case from pocket, handed it across to Jill. “It’s your half-day, isn’t it? I thought I’d pop over and see what you were doing.”
Jill gave a short laugh. “Not much one can do in this!” She indicated the drenching rain through the window. “I don’t feel inclined to venture out.”
“It will clear soon.” Harriet announced with assurance. “I’m glad I found you in, I’ve got a few minutes to spare. Duncan has gone across to have a word with Richard Fahr, and I hoped I’d catch you. Actually I looked in the ward, and Nurse Malling reminded me it was your half-day.”
“I am glad you came over, I feel thoroughly browned off.”
Harriet leaned forward in her chair. “I imagined you might be, that’s why I particularly wanted to see you—to tell you I am sorry about this morning—that fuss about Mary’s notes. It was hard luck on you.”
“Hard luck!” Jill echoed derisively as she stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette. “Of course it was—damned har
d luck! It’s hard luck too that I spilled half the trolley over the floor on Wednesday, and that on every ward round with Dr. McRey I fumble like a quaking probationer! Her voice rose on a note of hysteria. “I suppose it’s hard luck, too, that I can never answer a single question my Honorary puts to me never know when he has a clinic, never know of new admissions—unless of course I happen to take the message myself. I can’t give him any information he demands, not a single thing! Nurse Malling is making things as impossible for me as she can, she withholds every scrap of information which would help me, and I imagine she picks up syringes and forceps from the junk heap when she prepares my trolley. Then she purposely jerks my arm to make me appear clumsy, and now—now to add to everything else—she is deliberately hiding things in my own desk and making me out to be an imbecile or a liar.”
“Jill, for heaven’s sake!” Harriet protested. “You are just worked up, you don’t realize what you are saying!” I know that Malling can me jealous—yes, and a formidable enemy if you like, but I’m sure she wouldn’t stoop to do the things of which you are accusing her.”
Having given vent to her pent emotions’, Jill spoke more calmly. “I’m sorry, Harriet, perhaps I’m unjust. I don’t know how far that girl would go, but I do know she is making life intolerable. She jerked my arm that day, I know she did ... those missing notes this morning ... how can I know?” There was a note of distress in her voice. “I can’t believe that I could have been so forgetful.”
“We are all liable to slip sometimes,” Harriet assured her consolingly. “Don t take things so seriously, just keep your chin up, its not like you to give way,” she added encouragingly.
“Directly, I meant Dr. McRey. I knew that he’d be exacting to work for. I wasn’t really scared, I felt I could do it— you did, too, didn’t you?”
“Of course, I shouldn’t have recommended you for the job otherwise. I still think you can. I haven’t changed my mind.” Harriet’s lips curved into a smile. “Cheer up Jill, snap out of it; I had a feeling you’d be brooding about this morning, but I had no idea you would be taking things so much to heart.”
“I can’t help it. I’ve proved to that wretched man that his first impression was right—I’m an inefficient muddling female. I am going to resign immediately. In fact I’ve already written my letter to Matron,” she ended dismally.
“What you? Quit on a job! I don’t believe it!” Harriet waved aside the suggestion. “You wouldn’t give in so easily—give Duncan the laugh—and Brenda Malling too. Nonsense, you must carry on and the devil to both of them!”
“It’s not Malling I worry about,” Jill asserted, then paused, debating the matter in her own mind. She certainly didn’t worry about her Staff Nurse; she’d met too many of the jealous type during her years of training. She did care what Duncan McRey thought. Why, she couldn’t imagine, unless it was due to her innate pride in her work. “I couldn’t bear to go on working for an Honorary who lacked confidence in me,” she admitted with some diffidence. “I don’t like the man and resent his manner, but I confess he is the kind of person who should bring out one’s best. So far, in my case, I don’t seem to have succeeded in showing my best, that’s why I’ve written Matron I want to resign.”
“Then you can just tear up the letter!” Harriet spoke with emphasis. “You can’t let me down, you must sit tight and fight it out!” She rested her hand for a moment on Jill’s arm. “Promise me you won’t do anything in a hurry. Give yourself a little longer—I’ll stand by you, you know I will.”
“You’ve been a brick! I should have cooked my goose this morning if it hadn’t been for your heartening presence. It was all I could do to hold my tongue; I’ve never felt so strong an urge to shout at an Honorary as I did over those notes, that satirical smile of his made me see red. I caught your warning glance and nearly choked in an effort to restrain myself. All right, I’ll carry on for a bit—at least, I’ll try,” she promised, in her heart glad to have been dissuaded from her intention.
“That’s the stuff.” Harriet threw her cigarette end into the ashtray as she rose to her feet. “I’ve got to get back now, but I’ll be working too late to get home for a meal, so how about a spot of dinner together?”
“I’d love it—what time and where?”
“There is only one place you can get a decent meal, that hotel at the end of the front. Meet me here at the gates at eight; it’s quite a step. We’ll take the car.”
Her brief but reassuring conversation with Harriet had done a lot to dispel Jill’s gloom. Even the weather seemed’ to be improving; the rain had ceased and a water patch of blue peeped through a rift in the low-lying clouds. Tea in the Sisters’ lounge was a pleasant meal, too. It was a cosy room and Jill had, from the first, found her fellow Sisters helpful and friendly. Conversation was chiefly of hospital matters, and Jill listened with interest, eager to learn all she could of current affairs. With Christmas only a few weeks off, plans for the festive season naturally drifted into the conversation, their ideas for decorating their particular ward, the entertainments to be organized for staff and patients, the annual dance and various other projects for bringing to St. Joseph’s the true spirit of Christmas. The Sister from the surgical side of the Children’s Annexe was also enjoying a free half-day and eagerly explained to Jill all she hoped and planned to do for her ward. It meant hours of extra work, of course; hampers of gifts to be collected from various depots, to be unpacked and sorted; Christmas trees to be decorated and one of the staff prevailed upon to act as Father Christmas. Jill found her troubles rapidly receding from her mind as she entered wholeheartedly into the discussion.
Later, when she was changing for her meeting with Harriet, she went over again the disturbing emotions of the afternoon. She knew that she’d hate to leave St. Joseph’s. Her dislike of Sunsand Bay was only a small issue, no seaside resort was attractive in mid-winter, but the hospital itself was the finest she had ever worked in. Her room already had an atmosphere of home, her office was comfortable—now it had been cleared of litter—and as for her ward, it was ideal, with its ample spacing, adequate cubicles, and the long windows which not only caught every hour of sunshine but led to a wide glass-protected verandah where beds could be wheeled summer or winter, providing the children with every available hour of sunshine.
Jill slipped a coat over her shoulders before closing the door behind her. Harriet was right. She’d be silly to allow herself to be bullied out of the best job she’d ever had, all these petty irritations would, no doubt, settle themselves in time. She suppressed a sigh, she sincerely hoped that time wouldn’t be too long delayed.
The rain had now definitely stopped, and although there was a cold nip in the air the sky was clear, and a crescent moon pierced the darkness as Jill stood at the hospital gates awaiting her friend. Harriet did not keep her long, and soon they were driving along the deserted front to the hotel which Jill had first noticed on her arrival.
The interior of the Marine Hotel presented much the appearance one would have expected. No doubt in the brief summer months with gay crowds of holiday-makers filling the glass-fronted verandah, resting in the armchairs in the lounge, and perched on high stools at the bar, it would have looked as hundreds of other seaside hotels in high season. Now it presented a derelict and dejected air. The few residents clustered in a group around the fire, the women busily sewing or knitting, the men buried behind their newspapers. The dining-room, to which Harriet guided her companion, was considerably more cheerful. It was obviously much patronized by the large staff of St. Joseph s and several of the tables were occupied by people already familiar to Jill.
“I hope you don’t mind, I asked Dick to join us—you know Richard Fahr. He is operating late and has missed the seven-fifteen to London. The next train is at nine-twenty-five, so he is dropping in here for a meal first,” Harriet explained as she passed the menu for Jill’s inspection. “Anyway, we won’t wait for him, may as well get on with our dinner.”
“Mr. Fahr seemed very charming,” Jill responded when the waiter had hastened off to the kitchen with their order. Relaxing in her chair she now glanced round at the other diners; she had seen most of them somewhere around the hospital. Jill gave a perceptible start as she recognized Dr. McRey’s upright figure, his table against the wall half obscured by a tall dusty palm. “Why, there’s Dr. McRey over there, by the window!” she exclaimed with obvious surprise.
“Why not?” Harriet queried. “He certainly lives quite close to hospital, but when he works late he often drops in here. He is so scared of his housekeeper he daren’t turn up late for a meal!”
“Scared of his housekeeper?” Jill echoed in amused astonishment. “I can’t believe that.”
“You’d be surprised!” .Harriet’s eyes twinkled humorously. “She is a real dragon; he has met his female match there!” She leaned forward to see round the obscuring palm. “He seems to have reached the coffee stage; anyway, I won’t ask him over, we’ll have these few minutes to ourselves before Dick arrives.”
Jill was certainly relieved at that decision. She had quite enough of Duncan McRey’s company without seeking it in off-duty hours. “What sort of a house has he?” she found herself asking, more to make conversation than out of real interest.
It could be nice,” Harriet conceded. “Anyway, there isn’t much choice round here unless you live a few miles out. His housekeeper is bone lazy and doesn’t take any trouble with the place.” Harriet paused as the waiter set the dishes on the table. “One day I hope Duncan will get a wife to look after him and give him the home comforts he has never had.”
Jill couldn’t help laughing. “Harriet, dear, you sound so maternal, so concerned, too. I can’t picture Duncan McRey all domestic in house slippers with some loving little wife sharing his fireside!”
To Please the Doctor Page 5