“Oh, be quiet, Sewell,” said Joan Ashton, Cavell One’s staff nurse. “She is a friend of his, and Townsend knows all about it.”
Sewell shrugged. “All I can say is, ‘There’s many a slip. And why should she hold any brief for Taylor? In any case Theater Sister has her eye on him.”
Christine rose from the table. Most of her own group of friends were on night duty, and she was beginning to wish Matron had kept her on night duty, too. Joan Ashton rose with her.
“Don’t pay any attention to that crew, Townsend. They wouldn’t recognize St. Peter if he came down to earth. I haven’t come into contact with the new Registrar myself, of course, being on Cavell, but at least he says good morning if he meets you on the main corridor—which is more than some do.”
Christine smiled. “Thanks, Ashton. How is Sandra Dutton, by the way?”
“Oh, she’s doing fine. Her temperature’s coming down nicely. She’s quite a nice girl, actually, don’t you think? And no trouble as a patient.”
Christine made a noncommittal reply. “I only had her for two nights, so I can’t really say. But I’m pleased to hear she’s doing so well.”
Robert had not mentioned Sandra again—natural enough, she supposed, seeing they had come near to quarreling about her.
The medical wards were still very busy, however, and since that night Rob and she had only been out together twice. On one occasion he had met her in the foyer of a theater, ten minutes late, and they had gone straight in. On coming out they had seen two nurses waiting in the rain for a bus, so had given them a lift, making private conversation virtually impossible. Next time they had met at the coffee club—a favorite haunt of many of the hospital staff—and again had offered a ride to others returning to the hospital.
But Christine was due for a long weekend soon. She had asked for it to fit in with Robert’s time off, planning to invite him to stay the weekend at her home and really talk about the future.
But first Sister Abbot had a two-day stretch of off-duty—a busy time for Christine. On one of the days there were as many as five operation cases on her ward, all abdominals, and all Dr. Taylor’s patients. Two were inguinal hernias, one a colostomy, and the other two were partial gastrectomies. The gastrectomies were the first on the list. Christine prepped them and took them to theater herself as they were major operations.
She was in the anesthetic room waiting for the anesthetist to give the spinal when Dr. Taylor came in.
He looked at the patient, then at Christine. “Good morning, Nurse Townsend.”
“Good morning, Dr. Taylor.”
His eyes met hers for an instant, then he turned his attention to the patient.
“This is Joseph Wright, our first gastrectomy, Nurse?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I approve of your bringing these cases down yourself, Nurse. I want no instances of ‘mistaken identity’ while I’m operating. In a well-ordered hospital I just don’t see how it’s possible to operate on the wrong person.”
“No, Dr. Taylor, I agree. And, like you, I hope it never happens on my ward.”
He nodded and smiled, had a word with the patient, who, though drowsy, was not quite asleep, then went into the body of the theater.
Dr. Sparks, the visiting anesthetist, looked interestedly at Christine. Jones, the theater porter, gave her a sly wink.
Christine frowned slightly as she held the patient on his side, flexing his legs as far as possible so as to separate the intervertebral spaces while the spinal anesthetic was being given. Why had Dr. Sparks given her such an odd look? she wondered. As for Jones...
“How are you feeling now?” the anesthetist asked the patient when he had given the spinal.
“My legs have gone numb.”
“Good. He’s all yours, then, Nurse, for the moment,” he said, and went out.
“Gone to get his milk and bismuth, I should think,” muttered Jones. “He’s a gastric himself, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” Christine made her patient comfortable on the stretcher and put a small bandage over his eyes. “Try to get some sleep now, Mr. Wright.”
Jones picked at his teeth. “Dr. Taylor likes you. He doesn’t talk to all the nurses like he talked to you. He doesn’t so much as glance at some.”
Christine sighed and shook her head at him. “Really, Jones!”
“It’s true, I tell you.”
Then the main door of the theater opened and the patient was wheeled in and placed in position on the table.
Christine tried to dismiss Jones’s remark from her mind, but found it difficult, because at heart she was pleased by what he had said. She liked the new surgeon, and it was pleasant to feel he also liked her.
She watched with particular interest as John Taylor operated, and was acutely conscious, once more, of the atmosphere of peace that seemed to surround him.
He made a paramedian incision, left of midline. The patient had a large gastric ulcer and this would mean a high resection and gastro-jejunal anastomosis. The surgeon’s hands fascinated Christine. He was without doubt the most gentle surgeon she had ever known. No patient of his would ever suffer unnecessary pain as a result of rough handling. Indeed, she very much doubted whether this quiet man was capable of causing pain to anyone.
The two gastrectomies were admitted, for the next twenty-four hours, to the post-operative recovery ward adjacent to the theater. The other three cases went straight back to their own ward. Christine hardly expected Dr. Taylor to visit her ward again that day, but to her surprise he did.
“Everything all right, Nurse Townsend?”
“Yes, Dr. Taylor. The three operation cases have recovered from the anesthetic and they’re fairly comfortable.”
“Right, well, I’ll have a look at them,”
Each patient still had only two pillows. Dr. Taylor remarked on the fact.
“It seems I scarcely need to make any of my wishes known to you, Nurse. You’re anticipating them all. Or did you know that I don’t like my operation cases propped up too soon, as some surgeons do?”
“No, I didn’t know, actually.”
He smiled and continued down the ward, a tall, dignified figure that inspired confidence. Christine felt a strange contentment in his presence.
“I understand that six months’ staffing is compulsory for you, Nurse, before you can either leave or go on to the maternity wards to take your C.M.B.—or S.C.M., whichever it’s called.”
“Yes, Dr. Taylor, that’s right.”
“Have you any idea what you want to do?”
“Oh, I aim, definitely, to take my midwifery.”
“And after that?”
She smiled. “I don’t really know yet. I haven’t looked that far ahead.”
She didn’t feel it necessary to mention Robert or their forthcoming marriage. Though Dr. Taylor’s interest was personal up to a point, he was really interested in her as a nurse—as his next remark showed.
“Have you thought of specializing in theater work? You have an instinct for surgery.”
She looked at him, a little puzzled. “But, Dr. Taylor, surgical nursing and theater work are—well—so vastly different, aren’t they? What do you mean when you say I have an instinct?”
They were in the duty room now, where he had been looking at some charts. He glanced at her and gave a short laugh. Christine thought what a nice face he had. His whole expression was one of kindness and gentleness, notwithstanding the strong lines of his jaw.
“You’ve caught me out there,” he said. “I really meant that you were a good surgical nurse. And, of course, the two are different. You may not necessarily be a good theater nurse. However, I can guarantee that you are.”
“That’s very kind of you, Dr. Taylor.”
His eyes looked into hers. He opened his lips as though to speak, then apparently changed his mind. He moved toward the door and Christine walked along the ward corridor with him.
“Thank you very much, Nurse,” he said f
ormally when they reached the main corridor. “We’ll chat again some time.”
Christine retraced her steps, a smile on her face. She simply could not understand anyone disliking John Taylor. Next to Rob he was the nicest man she had ever met. Indeed, he doubtless had certain qualities Rob lacked. But she was in love with Rob, and love did not stand back and coolly assess a person’s qualities.
Owing to the shortage of senior staff it was the custom for a sister or staff nurse to stay on duty all day, except for meals, when either of them had a day off. The time was made up at some future date. Robert knew this. He knew also that Sister Abbot was off duty, so Christine did not expect him to arrange an evening out. And yet, this kind of situation had often occurred in the past and they had snatched an hour or so together. But this time Robert didn’t call, and Christine felt uneasy. She was busy, of course, so she didn’t have time to dwell on the matter. She knew, too, that he loved her, so there were no nagging doubts there.
All the same, it was unusual for him to let even a day go by without contacting her, if only for a chat over the phone. She thought again about Sandra Dutton. Perhaps her attitude toward the girl had disappointed him. He had probably expected her to visit Sandra, do little errands for her, as her parents were so far away.
And why hadn’t she? It was the sort of thing she had often done for patients. But if Rob had wanted her to, why hadn’t he said so? She could imagine him saying in his casual way, “Be an angel, Chris. See what you can do for the girl.”
On impulse as she was going off late duty, Christine turned into Cavell. It might please Rob to know she had been to see Sandra.
The night nurse was just coming out of the linen room. She grinned.
“Hello, Townsend. Come to give us a hand?”
“Not on your sweet life. I’ve just done two full days on Simpson One. Thought I’d look in on Sandra Dutton, if that’s all right with you.”
“Sure, go right ahead.”
The side ward door was half open. Christine went in, then stopped short as she saw who was in the room.
“Rob! I didn’t expect to find you here.”
He swung around sharply. “Oh, hello, Chris. I—just dropped in to see Sandra as I was passing.” Embarrassment showed in his face. “But what brings you here?”
She advanced slowly toward the bed. “The same as you. How are you, Sandra?” she asked quietly.
There was scarcely any need to ask. Sandra was looking lovelier than ever. Her blue eyes went from Christine to Robert, a faint smile on her face.
“I’m much better—thanks to Rob. He’s been wonderful to me.” She gazed up at him, her lips parted, her expression clearly adoring.
Christine knew a swift anger. This was no child. She was deliberately out to attract Rob. She compressed her lips tightly and drew a deep breath.
“I’m sure he has,” she said evenly. “All the patients love him.”
Sandra’s eyes narrowed. Rob, his hands thrust into his pockets, shifted uneasily.
“Turn it up, Chris!”
Christine smiled brightly. “So modest,” she said to Sandra. “I came to see if there’s anything I could do for you. You know—any little errand.”
She hadn’t meant to be catty, but knew how it must sound. “I’ve got all I want, thanks,” Sandra said coolly. “Rob got some things for me, didn’t you, darling?” She smiled up at him.
Robert’s eyes met Christine’s in a startled glance. Christine recovered quickly.
“Watch out, Sandra. I’m the only one who calls him darling. If it was an affectation—and it had better be—remember you’re in Yorkshire now, where people say what they think.” She moved to the door. “Coming, Rob? It’s time Sandra settled down for the night.”
He gave a swift jerk. “Oh, yes, I’m coming. Be seeing you, Sandra.”
She looked up at him with a coy smile that infuriated Christine. “Yes, ’Night Rob.”
He and Christine left the ward in silence. Then when they reached the main corridor, Christine said quietly:
“I’d like to talk to you, Rob. Are you free now?”
“Er—yes, I am, as a matter fact. I was going to call you. I’ll go and get the car and bring it around to the basement entrance.”
“All right, Rob.”
They parted, and Christine went to her room to get her coat. What an outrageous little flirt Sandra was, she thought. She hoped tonight’s little display had been a lesson to Rob. A girl like that could cause a whole heap of trouble, and Christine was convinced that that was exactly what her aim had been.
Rob drove in silence until they were clear of the hospital, then he asked, “Where would you like to go, Chris?”
“There was a time, Rob, when you didn’t need to ask.” There was a quiet little side road near the park where Rob used to park the car under the trees and take her into his arms and kiss her, or they would just sit and talk, their arms around each other.
But she hadn’t meant to say anything that would give him the idea that she had taken Sandra seriously. She had meant to laugh about her, to behave as though everything was perfectly normal. Which, she told herself fiercely, it was.
“I only want to talk, Rob, that’s all,” she said lamely.
He drove to their usual place and switched off the engine and the headlights. He made no attempt to take her in his arms. He just sat there, apparently waiting for her to speak.
All Christine’s good intentions vanished. “Rob, what’s the matter? What’s happening to us?” she said worriedly.
He made the classic reply. “Happening to us? I don’t know what you mean. You said you wanted to talk. Well, I’m waiting.” She sat silent. She hadn’t the heart to speak. She felt sick inside. Robert turned and looked at her. “I don’t know what’s got into you lately, Chris, and that’s the truth. You seem always to be spoiling for an argument.”
Christine stared at him in amazement. For a moment she just didn’t know what to say. She was so hurt, so angry, she wanted to get out of the car and leave him. Then she told herself this would be playing right into Sandra’s hands. For she was becoming convinced that Sandra wanted Robert for herself. So she fought down her feelings.
“I’m sorry if you think that, Rob. There are lots of things I want to talk about, and I thought you did, too.”
He humped his shoulders. “Just name one of them, Christine.” “Our wedding,” she said in the same quiet voice.
His arms came about her then. “Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I thought you were angry about Sandra.”
He kissed her then, and she clung to him fiercely. “Sandra?” she laughed when she could manage it. “Who cares about Sandra? We’ve got a weekend coming up, haven’t we, Rob? I thought you might come home with me and we could make plans and fix a date for our wedding.”
He drew away from her suddenly. “Your weekend? Oh! I wish I’d known.”
Christine tensed. “What do you mean, Rob? You’re off, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, but...” He heaved a sigh. “To tell you the truth, I’ve promised to drive Sandra home.”
CHAPTER THREE
Words stuck in Christine’s throat. She just sat there, barely able to take in what Robert had said.
“Chris, I’m sorry. Really I am. But she’s just about ready to go home, and...” He paused awkwardly.
“And you’ve promised to drive her there. Oh, Rob, why? Couldn’t you just have driven her to the station and put her on the train?”
“But she’s not fit to go by train. Have a heart.”
“Then why couldn’t she wait until she is?”
Robert removed his arm from around her and sat moody and square in the driving seat.
“You don’t like Sandra, do you, Chris? It’s pretty evident. You haven’t, right from the start.”
Christine felt suddenly exasperated with him. “Honestly, Rob, I don’t know what’s the matter with you. Surely you can see what she’s trying to do? If you can’t, then you must be
blind.”
“All right, so I’m blind. You tell me what she’s trying to do. Go on.”
Christine could have wept. “How can I tell you anything when you’re in this mood? I should have thought it was plain. We were perfectly happy before she arrived on the scene. Now we quarrel every time her name is mentioned.”
“You can hardly blame Sandra for that. I hate to say this, Chris, but I suppose the truth is, you’re jealous of her, aren’t you?”
“Jealous! Should I be?”
“No, of course not. I’ve told you. Her family are friends of mine. And I’d have thought any friend of mine was yours too. I’m sorry if I’ve mucked up your plans for the weekend, but I can’t very well go back on my word now. Tell you what,” he said with sudden eagerness, “why not come with us? That’s the obvious solution. You haven’t been down to my place since last summer.”
The idea of that long journey with Sandra doing her best to captivate Rob was absolutely nauseating to Christine. Nevertheless, she agreed. She would have been a fool not to, and, at least there would be the journey back on their own.
The journey to Morham, Robert’s home town in Surrey, was even worse than she anticipated. Sandra was still rather weak, and so there was nothing else Christine could do but insist on her sitting in the front of the car with Robert where she would feel the benefit of the heater. Christine sat in the back feeling like the odd man out, watching Robert’s solicitousness toward Sandra, tucking the car rug around her, continually asking if she were all right. Couldn’t he see there was something more than ordinary gratitude in the luminous eyes, the smiling lips? Jealous? Of course she was. Wouldn’t any girl be? Wouldn’t Robert be if the positions were reversed?
It was altogether an unsatisfactory weekend. Robert and she never seemed to be alone together. Sandra’s parents insisted on inviting them to dinner on one of the evenings. Robert’s people had guests on another, and on the day of their return to the hospital, Robert stayed so long saying goodbye to Sandra that he felt it necessary to drive almost non-stop back to Dunston.
“I suppose Sandra will be coming back to her job in Dunston after her convalescence,” she remarked as they were nearing home.
The Gentle Surgeon Page 3