Nothing Ventured

by Anne Douglas

  I should concentrate more on my job, she resolved; after all, that had always been so important to her. If her future were not to change, she must make the best of what she had.

  But then, walking with Mark in Princes Street on one of her afternoons off, news came that made her wonder if even work was going to give its old satisfaction. And it came partly from Boyd, now busy on his teacher training course, and partly from someone whose appearance in Edinburgh could only be described as a surprise.

  Sixty

  Isla and Mark had been on their way to the National Gallery of Scotland on the Mound, where Mark had said he would like to introduce Isla to Scottish art. She had always freely admitted that she didn’t know anything about art, never having had much opportunity to go to galleries, but she was very willing to learn, especially as it was an interest of Mark’s.

  ‘There are so many wonderful Scottish artists,’ he had been saying as they made their way down a crowded pavement. ‘Raeburn, McTaggart, Peploe – you’ll soon get to know them – and we’re so lucky here to have so many galleries to visit.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to seeing them—’ Isla was beginning when she stopped mid-sentence and, staring ahead, gave a little gasp. ‘I don’t believe it, Mark, but there’s Boyd!’

  ‘Boyd? What’s so surprising? He works in Edinburgh.’

  ‘Yes, but he’s with Magda! Miss Lorne, Mark! Look at them – they seem to be together!’

  Following her gaze, Mark picked out the tall figure of Boyd, though he was wearing a hat over his blond hair and wasn’t easy to spot. The girl with him, however, was easy to recognize. She, too, was wearing a hat over her mass of dark hair, but her face, turned to Boyd’s, was in profile and so distinctive that Mark had no difficulty whispering, ‘Oh, yes, that’s Boyd, and with Miss Lorne. Does look as if they know each other, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Quick, let’s catch them up!’ cried Isla, hurrying along the pavement and calling her brother’s name.

  He stopped and, as Magda stopped with him, turned to look back at Isla and Mark coming towards them.

  ‘Why, it’s you!’ he called. ‘Isla and Mark!’

  ‘Hello, Boyd. Miss Lorne,’ said Isla, thinking how well her brother looked, and how relaxed – surely, better than he’d looked for a long time?

  ‘Er, you know Miss Lorne?’ he asked Mark, who smiled and said he did, but she might not remember him.

  ‘I was a patient at the hydro for a time – Mark Kinnaird.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’m sure we’ve met,’ she answered, her green eyes studying his face as they shook hands. ‘How nice to see you in Edinburgh – and Nurse Scott – or may I call you Isla? And you must call me Magda.’

  ’Thank you,’ said Isla, marvelling at Magda’s smooth politeness – Switzerland must have rubbed off some corners. ‘I’m just over for the day, but Mark lives in Edinburgh. Are you at college now? We heard you’d left Switzerland.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’m at the art college here in Edinburgh.’ Magda smiled. ‘That’s how I came to meet Boyd – just bumped into each other one day, didn’t we, Boyd?’

  ‘We did.’ He too was smiling. ‘I’m on half-term from my course at the moment.’

  ‘And I’m playing truant.’ Magda slipped her arm into his. ‘But we’re going to the National, so I think you can say that’s arty enough.’

  ‘I can see you’re looking mystified,’ Boyd said to Isla, ‘me knowing nothing about art, but Magda’s going to instruct me.’

  ‘Snap!’ cried Isla. ‘Mark’s going to instruct me. We’re going to the National, too.’

  ‘I’m not planning on doing any instructing,’ said Mark. ‘I just want Isla to decide what she likes. But why don’t we all go to the National together?’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ Magda answered, glancing at Boyd, who nodded, and they made their way to the gallery as a foursome, deciding, on reaching its impressive entrance hall, that they should have tea first.

  ‘I always say you should have sustenance before you start looking at things,’ Magda declared. ‘Otherwise you get too tired. Well, I do.’

  ‘Excellent idea,’ Mark agreed. ‘Seem to remember they have rather good sticky buns here.’

  ‘There you are, Boyd!’ Magda laughed. ‘It won’t be so bad looking at pictures if you’ve had a couple of sticky buns first!’

  ‘Hey, I have to keep fit, remember?’ he asked, in a teasing tone Isla couldn’t remember him using for quite some time. ‘If I get to teach pupils, I’ll have to set a good example.’

  Watching her brother and Magda during tea, Isla was fascinated by the changes in both of them, for Boyd was as relaxed and easy in his manner as if Trina had never existed, and Magda seemed to have completely cast aside her frostiness to show herself in as pleasant a light as possible. What had come over them? Was it possible that they – Boyd and Magda – were … well, attached? Or, at least, very good friends? Isla felt she didn’t know what to make of it and wondered if Boyd would ever explain, but then she saw him so rarely it would be difficult to pin him down.

  As for Magda, it seemed incredible that she and Isla might one day have a special relationship. No, Isla couldn’t see that happening. Couldn’t see Magda and Boyd really having a permanent relationship. Supposing … oh, no. Supposing he got hurt again?

  Sixty-One

  Glancing quickly at Magda, Isla was surprised to see her sitting in sudden silence, staring at her plate, far away in thought from where she was. What could be wrong? A few minutes ago, she’d appeared happy enough not to have a care in the world. Now, clearly, something had come to her mind to upset her. But what?

  Isla would have liked to help, ask if there was anything she could do, but knew that wasn’t possible, and even as she was thinking it, she saw Boyd’s hand reach out to cover Magda’s.

  ‘Please don’t worry, Magda. He’s all right, I’m sure of it,’ Boyd whispered.

  ‘No, Boyd, he’s not all right,’ Magda answered, her voice very low. ‘He wouldn’t be resigning if that were true – you know it’s the last thing he’d ever want to do.’

  Resigning? Who was Magda talking about? Something cold seemed to be running down Isla’s spine, and she turned hastily to Mark to see if he had heard what she had heard and was thinking the same impossible thing. He had been looking at Magda, who was still holding Boyd’s hand, but as he felt Isla’s gaze on him, his eyes moved to meet hers with the same sort of questioning. Who was Magda talking about?

  It could only be her father, Isla knew, though the thought made her catch her breath and instantly try to deny it. Resigning? Dr Lorne? No, it wasn’t possible. He was Lorne’s, he’d created it; you couldn’t think of it without him.

  Yet here was Magda, releasing her hand from Boyd’s and looking straight at Isla, whose face must be showing what she was feeling, who certainly couldn’t hide it, and saying she was sorry.

  ‘I’m sorry, Isla, you must have heard what I said – I didn’t mean to talk about it – just came over me …’

  ‘It’s Doctor Lorne,’ Boyd said quietly. ‘He’s got a heart problem – angina – and high blood pressure. Seemingly never wanted to tell anybody.’

  ‘I never knew until Miss Elrick told me he was ill and that I should come back and see him,’ Magda said brokenly. ‘Even then, he pretended he was all right.’

  ‘Magda, he’ll be fine,’ Boyd declared firmly. ‘As long as he takes care.’

  ‘But he’s been told he should give up work!’ she cried. ‘Give up work! And he’s agreed. He’s agreed to give up the hydro.’ Her voice trembled. ‘Can you imagine it? My father giving up the hydro? It’s been his life – it’s all he cares about!’

  ‘Except you,’ murmured Boyd.

  ‘Oh, never mind about me.’ Magda put her hand to her eyes. ‘I just know he’s very ill, or he’d never be letting it go.’

  ‘He knows he has to.’ Boyd turned his gaze towards Isla and Mark. ‘Magda hasn’t mentioned yet that things aren’t going so well
at the hydro – Doctor Lorne told her himself.’

  ‘Not going so well?’ Isla repeated. ‘Why, I’ve never heard that; none of us has. What did he mean? We’ve plenty of patients.’

  ‘Now, but not for the coming months, it seems. Bookings are down and there’s talk that folk are going off the idea of the water cure. They fancy just going to hotels for “rest cures”, apparently, and you can imagine what Doctor Lorne thinks of that!’

  ‘It’s ridiculous!’ Magda said sharply. ‘I just don’t believe things are as bad as they say – Daddy must have been misled.’

  ‘He’s admitted he should retire,’ Boyd reminded her, at which Magda’s lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘He’s a doctor himself,’ Mark put in gently. ‘He knows he’s doing the sensible thing, cutting down on stress and worry, but that doesn’t mean he’s dangerously ill now. I’m sure, if he takes care, as Boyd says, all will be fine.’ Mark leaned forward. ‘He’ll be retiring for you, Magda; he’ll know you want him to stay well – that’s all it is.’

  ‘You think so?’ she whispered. ‘I wish I could believe it.’

  ‘You can believe it,’ Boyd told her. ‘Mark’s right, your dad’s doing the right thing and it’s for you.’

  ‘So try not to worry,’ Isla added quietly. ‘I know something of angina – the paroxysms can be very painful but they can be controlled with amyl nitrate, and if the patient doesn’t exhaust himself, he’s every chance of keeping going. Without the strain of running the hydro and all this talk of bookings falling off, I think Doctor Lorne will feel much better, honestly I do.’

  ‘Thank you for that, Isla,’ Magda answered earnestly. ‘I feel better now, listening to you all. As long as Daddy’s all right, that’s all that matters – though I know no one will be happy seeing someone else in charge at the hydro.’

  ‘Oh, that’s true!’ cried Isla, with feeling. ‘We’ll none of us be happy!’

  ‘Would you mind if I asked you not to say anything about this for the time being, though? My father doesn’t want to announce it until a new director’s been appointed.’

  ‘Of course, I understand, and I promise I won’t say anything.’ Isla’s face was bleak. ‘In fact, I don’t want to talk about it.’

  After a short silence, they all rose from the table and when Mark, allowing no arguments, had called for the bill, Magda apologetically said she didn’t think she wanted to look round the gallery, after all.

  ‘I’m sorry, Boyd, but I can’t really put my mind on anything today. I’m just – you know – so low.’

  ‘I feel the same,’ said Isla. ‘This news – it’s just blocking out everything else for me.’ She turned to Mark. ‘Maybe we’ll try another time?’

  ‘Of course,’ Mark agreed, while Boyd told Magda she didn’t need to apologize: no one, least of all him, would expect her to go round the gallery when she felt so anxious.

  ‘As long as you don’t mind,’ she said, sighing. ‘It’s too late for me to go back to college – let’s just go to my flat.’

  They were going back to her flat? Isla’s eyes slightly widened and she knew that at one time she would have been intrigued and excited by this new relationship her brother appeared to be sharing with Magda. But now, all she could think of was the news she’d heard over the tea table and wonder desperately what the future would hold.

  ‘Tell the folks I’ll be over to see them soon,’ Boyd whispered in her ear, and when she turned to look at him, the message in his eyes and the slight shake of his head told her that she was not to mention Magda. As though she would! The repercussions would be endless. Let Boyd tell their mother himself when the time was right, if that ever came.

  When she and Mark had waved Boyd and Magda away outside the gallery, Mark said he’d drive Isla back to the hydro, where she was to be on evening duty, and they walked slowly back to his house to collect the car.

  ‘I know this news from Magda has been a terrible blow for you,’ Mark told Isla when they were driving away through the darkened streets, lit now by the mellow light of gas lamps. ‘You’ve always thought so much of Doctor Lorne.’

  ‘He was the reason I’m at the hydro at all, Mark. He made me believe in what we do, and I just can’t take it in that people are turning against it.’

  ‘Some maybe, but not all. We don’t know too much about the situation yet.’

  ‘I just feel too depressed to think about it.’

  ‘Well, on to something different, I thought Boyd was looking very much his old self. Magda seems to have worked a certain magic.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Isla heaved a sigh. ‘As long as she doesn’t let him down.’

  ‘I thought she was much easier to talk to than everybody said.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Isla, glancing at Mark in the dusk of the car, suddenly tried to smile. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mark, I’m not being much fun to be with at the moment. I wish I’d been able to have had a quiet afternoon with you, looking at the pictures.’

  ‘Good heavens, you’ve no need to apologize! You know I like being with you, anyway!’

  Do you? she wondered to herself, returning for a moment to her earlier nagging worry. Do you love me, Mark?

  As she could not ask the question, there could be no answer, and as she kissed him goodbye at the hydro and hurried into the workplace that might any day be changing, she felt problems crowding in on her like falling snow.

  Sixty-Two

  Act the part, she had to keep telling herself when she was with her colleagues. Pretend everything was just as usual. That she had no need to dread the future, wasn’t sick with worry over Dr Lorne’s health and the state of the hydro’s bookings, and wasn’t waiting anxiously for Mark to say the words she wanted to hear.

  Certainly, everything seemed just as usual at the hydro itself, with Dr Lorne, when he appeared to relieve Dr Morgan, appearing cheerful, though Isla wasn’t so sure that Joan Elrick wasn’t also acting a part in looking cheerful, too. But then she’d already proved she could do a good cover-up when necessary, for she was the one who’d asked Magda to come to see Dr Lorne, yet she’d said nothing of his illness to anyone else. And he, of course, had kept it quiet.

  As for the fall in bookings, nothing had been said, as far as Isla could tell, which made her wonder about the situation – until, very suddenly, Matron announced her retirement. And the news spread round the hydro like wildfire that she was not to be replaced.

  ‘Not to be replaced?’ cried Sheana at tea break. ‘What do they think they’re playing at?’

  ‘Who’s they?’ someone asked.

  ‘Why, those folk who run the company – the ones we never see but who make the rules, eh? Why should they say we can suddenly do without a matron?’

  ‘Doctor Lorne must have agreed to it,’ Ellie remarked. ‘He has a big say in what goes on.’

  ‘I’m wondering what Sister Francis is thinking,’ Isla said, keeping her voice down in case the Sister or Staff Miller were around. Too late. Staff Miller, appearing suddenly from nowhere – a favourite trick of hers – had heard her and at once rattled out a reply on the Sister’s behalf.

  ‘I can tell you all that Sister Francis was fully informed of the decision not to replace Matron, and has accepted that she will be taking on some of Matron’s duties. There’s no need to add that she is quite capable of doing anything that is required of her, and I hope that the same can be said of all of us here.’

  ‘But Staff, why don’t they want to replace Matron?’ Sheana asked. ‘I mean, we are a sort of hospital, eh?’

  Staff Miller pursed her lips.

  ‘Obviously, it’s been decided that someone of that rank is not absolutely necessary now. It’s not for us to question decisions when we don’t have the full facts. Now, if tea’s over, can we get back to work?’

  ‘Seems to me, Sister Francis is being exploited,’ Sheana muttered as the nurses returned to their duties. ‘Just hope they give her a couple of bob extra, eh?’


  ‘If she’s like the poor miners, she won’t get a thing,’ said Ellie gloomily. ‘They’ve gone back to work and didn’t even get their old wages back. “Not a penny off the pay, not a minute on the day” was what they wanted, but they couldn’t last out any longer. Had to go back and just do what the owners said.’

  Isla, remembering that the miners had not been in her thoughts recently, bit her lip and turned away. Seemed the strike and the hardship had all been for nothing, and she’d been so wrapped up in other things, she hadn’t give the men and their families a thought. Oh, she couldn’t say that Dr Lorne’s health or the state of the bookings were of no importance – they were, they had to be – but she should have remembered the miners, whose struggle was for their very existence, who had been living on the edge for so long they had almost gone over.

  Surely there must be a better way of organizing people’s lives?

  When she saw Boyd again, she put the question to him, but he only shook his head and sighed.

  ‘The way of the world, they call it,’ he told her. ‘Money talks, always has – if you haven’t got it, you’ve an uphill job if you want to change anything.’

  They drank the tea they’d brought to a table in the hydro canteen, scene of many a chat they’d enjoyed when Boyd was one of the workforce. Now, of course, he had to be Isla’s guest, when he’d taken time from his visit to their parents to look in to see her, and knew, after she’d spoken of the miners, what she’d want to talk about.

  It was true, for though she’d plenty of other things to occupy her mind, she’d come round to wondering about her brother and Magda Lorne, and what sort of relationship was theirs, if indeed there was one.

  ‘Come on, then,’ he said, smiling. ‘Ask me about Magda. I can see the questions already trembling on your lips.’