by Hilary Neal
“It’s nice to hear you say so, Nurse. But I wonder very much whether you’ll feel the same in a few months’ time, when you’ve actually had the chance of handling the money. Do you think you will?”
. Fenella frowned. “I don’t know. I think so. And I don’t even know whether to accept the money yet. Matron—if you want me to have a trial period as night sister, I’m very willing. If you think I’m capable.”
“Nobody knows what she can do, Nurse, until she’s pitchforked into it. I took my first theatre case without any warning, and I’ve loved the theatre ever since. We do what we have to do, I find. I’d like you to try. But of course, so long as Nurse Lewis is here you will continue as joint staff nurses.”
“Yes, Matron. Of course.”
“The other thing I wanted to say to you is that we’re moving Sir David over to his own house tomorrow. Nurse Lewis will go over if his dressing needs attention, otherwise Mrs. Hackett can manage him at night. And we’ll send a day nurse over for an hour or so each morning and afternoon. He thought it would release a bed here, if he went home, as he’s so close. So you’ll have Ward Five vacant again tomorrow night. Not for long, I daresay.”
“Very well, Matron.”
“Now—it’s Nurse Lewis’s night off, isn’t it?”
Fenella had forgotten that. “Yes, Matron, it is. Shall I send Nurse Dennis in to Sir David, then?”
“Certainly not, Nurse! You must attend to him yourself.” Matron’s eyes flickered dangerously. “You surely don’t imagine that we can offer him less than a State Registered nurse, do you? No, indeed you will not give him Nurse Dennis! And if you are so busy that you don’t have time to look after him in a proper manner, Nurse Scott, you may call me!”
“Yes, Matron.” Fenella closed the door quietly after her, and went through for breakfast. Nurse Greatrex uncovered her plate for her. “Thought you’d overslept or something, Staff. I was just going to send Minner to look for you. A nice example, I must say! Don’t forget, you’re the boss-woman tonight.”
“I know. Matron’s just reminded me.” She looked across at Nurse Dennis. “I suggested you should devote your professional skill to Ward Five tonight,” she said. “But she wasn’t having any.”
Dennis laughed. “Sooner you than me, Staff, from what I can hear. I’d be sure to knock the screen over, or brain the poor man with the bedtable, or something. No—Old Joe’s about my level. He never grumbles and he’s always grateful.”
“He was,” Greatrex put in gloomily.
“Was?” Fenella’s smile faded. “Was? Oh, no! He isn’t—?”
“Isn’t what? He’s gone home. Oh, not the way you meant.” “Heavens! You looked so down that I thought for a moment—Stupid of me. I hope Matron remembered to give him his money before he went.”
“I expect so. She doesn’t miss much.”
The momentary shock haunted Fenella unreasonable. Supposing Joe had died? You couldn’t spend your emotional energy in grieving for every patient you lost, she reminded herself. But if he had, at least the old man would have spent his last night in clean, comfortable surroundings. He would have gone out with dignity. She shivered. Supposing David’s operation had gone wrong?
Later she found Micky in the ward kitchen making himself a cup of tea. “Where’s Mair?” he wanted to know.
“Night off. Worse luck. Lets me in for coping with Sir David. Will you stitch my ears back on if he chews them off?”
“Sure, if he does. Drat, I wanted to see Mair. I didn’t see her yesterday. I was fed up and went out for the evening. Jack Stonor stood in for me, and I went to the Chemists’ Ball. I can’t think why!”
“Fun?”
He grimaced. “Not on your life. Have you ever been to a Chemists’ Ball? What a bunfight! Everyone looks so depressed—and so-o-o serious. You’ve simply no idea. Still—it was less depressing than trying to understand Mair. She seems to have no time for anyone except His Nibs lately.”
“But hasn’t she told you?”
“Told me what? As I said, I’ve not set eyes on her.”
Fenella looked out into the corridor. There was nobody within earshot. She turned back to Micky, and was overcome by his boyish bewilderment. “There is something she has to tell you,” she compromised. “Something that will explain a lot of things.”
Micky took off his glasses and polished them. When he had put them on again he said: “Will it?” His mouth tightened. “Then if you know what it is, for Pete’s sake tell me. Put me out of my misery.” He tried to smile, but it was a poor effort.
“I do know—but she wanted to tell you herself, you see. I don’t think she’d like it if I...”
He took Fenella by the shoulders and shook her lightly. “Tell me, Fenny,” he urged. “You tell me—and then when she tells me I’ll try to look innocent. Please. I’m awfully good at looking innocent.”
She told him then. “And she’s so pleased about the job,” she added. “So you musn’t be mad. She says that her only reasons for being friendly with him tie up with that. And I believe her. It’s you she wants, Micky. You know, she just wants to have you being a bit more masterful, that’s all.”
“Supposing I was masterful enough to forbid her to take this job?” Micky’s face had relaxed, but there was still a worried look in his eyes.
“That would suit me. If it came off it would mean that she wouldn’t leave ... she could stay here as night sister, instead of me. I rather dread it.”
He smiled properly then. “Oh, don’t be an ass, Fenny. Uncle Michael will be here to help you, remember.”
“Oh, will he? Except when he goes off to the Chemists’ Ball, and mother’s meetings! I shall hold you to that. You’ll have to stay at my elbow the whole time, I’m warning you. But do you really mind? It’ll be a lovely job for her, after pounding the wards. And no nights, and every weekend free. Think of that!”
Micky sighed. “As if that mattered to her. She’s never been afraid of work yet, any more than you have. No—I don’t really mind if it’s what she wants. She may be able to spare some of all that off-duty for me.”
“She will. Now, wish me luck before I go into Ward Five.”
He lifted his teacup in a toast as she went out.
Before she went into David’s room the sound of voices and laughter drew her to Ward 2. She peeped in, and Gilda called her. “Nurse Scott, just see what I have in here.”
Stephen Ames in a wheelchair sat at one side of the bed, and Gilda, in another, faced him. Both were radiant. Between them lay a supper tray.
“Well, quite a party. That’s nice. Whose idea was it? Matron’s?” She picked up the tray of crockery, and noted that there was no food left at all. That was good.
“No,” Steve told her. “Not Matron. There are a few things she doesn’t arrange, you know. Anderson invited me into his room for my first trip, and then told me to trundle myself along to see Gilda. Nice chap.” He looked at Gilda, and their glances clung momentarily.
“And a good time has been had by both, I take it?”
Gilda nodded. “Rather. And we shall invite you to the wedding.” She blushed. “At least, Steve hasn’t asked me to fix the day yet, but I’m rushing him into it here and now, with you as a witness. So that he can’t wriggle out of it.”
“I’m a witness,” Fenella agreed. “The most sensible thing I’ve heard tonight, so far.” She bent across and kissed Gilda lightly on the cheek. “I do hope you’ll be very happy, seriously.”
Steve pouted. “Where do I come in?”
She kissed him, too. “Look after her well. And be happy.”
She left the tray on the windowsill in the corridor and went straight along to Ward 5 on the wave of genuine pleasure. David’s eyes were on the door, as he sat propped up against a mound of pillows. He gave her time to note that he looked more relaxed, before he turned his face away, frowning.
“Good evening. Are you comfortable?” Her voice shook a little as she walked over to the bed.
> “Yes, thank you. I’m going home tomorrow.” Still he refused to face her, and she waited, marvelling at the crispness of his dark hair, and the clear line of his cheekbones. She began to tidy the top of the bed, gathering up newspapers littered over the counterpane. “You’ve finished with these, I expect.”
“I thought I told you not to come in here again?” His voice was low and tight with annoyance. “Why did you?”
“It can’t be helped. It’s Nurse Lewis’s night off. Unless you want the junior?”
“No, thank you. She has the coldest hands in the profession. Nurses ought to have the sense to—” He half turned to look at her own hands, resting on the pile of papers. “People aren’t allowed to wear rings on duty, are they?”
She moved away, embarrassed by his intent look. “No. Only wedding rings.”
“Then how do patients know whether nurses are engaged or not?”
“They have to ask, I suppose. But the wards aren’t exactly full of would-be suitors. Male patients are mostly married, or adolescent, or senile.”
“Oh? I suppose I come into the same group as poor old Parsley. He—”
Only because the conversation was becoming difficult she began to talk at random. “He left me a lot of money. Silly, isn’t it?”
She had been mistaken, she realized, to think that David was less chilly. His eyes were as cold as ever. “Really? How nice. I suppose that’s the kind of thing most nurses pray for?” He turned his head away again, and added irritable: “Send that Dennis girl in, will you?”
“Well, I didn’t pray for it, I can assure you!” she told him hotly. “In fact I’m—I’m not at all sure that I shall take it.”
He pulled the blankets up round his neck. “Don’t be absurd.”
She was dismissed again and she knew it.
Nurse Dennis goggled. “But if he told you to clear out, Staff, what will he say to me?”
“You’d better take in his milk, and find out, hadn’t you? Just one thing—if you value your life.”
“Yes, Staff?”
“Don’t drop anything, will you?”
She was in the corridor when the girl came scuttling out of Ward 5 again. “Well?”
“He’s certainly in an odd mood, Staff. He asked me whether I was as young as I looked, and then said people oughtn’t to be let loose on male wards until they’re thirty. And he’ll ring if he wants me.”
“Then see that you answer the bell, if he does. I’ll carry on for you, if you’re tied up. Just give me a shout, will you?”
She never saw David again all night.
After dinner she went straight to bed. It was a long time before she fell asleep, and just before she did she remembered something that jerked her back into wakefulness again. What had Mair said? Bernard Parsley had provided for someone else to take his money in the event of her refusing it...”
Had the old man known that she would feel uneasy about accepting it? And who was the “someone else”? Supposing it were someone to whom the money would make a vital difference who needed it desperately? She realized, then, that all along she had never really accepted the idea that it was hers. She had been rejecting it instinctively ever since the first shock of surprise. From that it was an easy step to the decision she made now: “I won’t take it.”
She had no pangs about that at all. It had never been hers. And the fact that David had said that refusal was “absurd” lent a spice of defiance to the gesture. To the other legatee it might be a godsend.
Then she fell asleep. In one connection, at least, her house was in order. Even if—. She refused to allow herself to think about the muddles that still remained in her heart.
She woke to find Mair sitting on the end of her bed. “So you told Micky about my job?”
“I had to. He badly needed cheering up. I thought you wouldn’t mind, in the circs.” She pushed back her hair and rubbed her eyes. “Is it time I was up?”
Mair went on looking at her feet. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Only as far as cheering up is concerned the effect was negligible.”
“Oh? But he didn’t seem to mind, once he knew you weren’t doing it for—for love of David.”
Didn’t he? Well, we both went over to David’s this afternoon—you know he’s gone back across the road?”
“He said he was going.”
“Yes, well, we went to see him—and he evidently thought I’d already told Micky, and began to talk about it straight away...”
“And?”
“And Micky said suddenly, straight out in front of him: ‘You’re not to do it.’ Of course, I stared at him. And then I asked why not, and he said: ‘Because I say so,’ and put on a lord and master air I’ve never suspected him of having. Quite unlike him!”
Fenella smiled, remembering her advice. She reached for the turquoise dressing gown on the foot of the bed. “Can I have it ... thanks. I must get a bath. What did Dav—Sir David say?”
“That’s the odd thing,” Mair confessed. “He didn’t say anything. Just threw back his head and roared with laughter.” She pushed Fenella’s slippers towards her groping feet. “And of course Micky went off in a huff.”
“Never mind.”
“In his car, though. And he was in the mood to drive up the first telegraph pole he saw.” Mair stood up. “Well, it can’t be helped. I’ve told David I’m still going to take the job, so Micky will just have to get used to the idea, won’t he?”
Fenella leaned thoughtfully against the door, dangling her sponge-bag from one finger. “Maybe you oughtn’t to? What is more important—Micky or the job?”
Mair stared. “Why, Micky, of course! But I can’t let David down, and he’s due to move house next week, if he’s well enough.”
“Look—” Fenella plunged. “If you decide not to do it he still won’t be left high and dry. I’m willing to go instead, if that helps.”
“You?” Mair’s laugh tinkled. “You surely don’t think he’d let you have the job?”
Fenella flushed. “He needn’t see much of me—and I’m not as incompetent as all that, am I? If it would help you—”
“You must be crazy. No, I shall go. I’ve given my word. Was he difficult again last night?”
Fenella told her.
“What sparked it off this time? Did you drop the tray or something?”
“I didn’t drop anything, I—” She stopped, remembering the way David had seemed to relax, and then had shown irritation again. “Yes. Something did spark it off. Only I don’t see—”
“Well? What?”
“It sounds ridiculous. It was when I told him about Mr. Parsley’s money. I’m sure it was. Why on earth—”
Mair patted her shoulder. “You don’t know much about the male animal, do you? Girls with money are the last thing ... What made you tell him?”
“I don’t know. I think it was to change the conversation, actually. He certainly reacted badly. Told me to send Dennis in.”
“Well, there you are. You’ll have to leave him to get used to the idea. Better get that bath, or you’ll be late.”
It only occurred to Fenella in the bath that it was not so much the legacy that had irritated David as the fact that she had talked of refusing it. It didn’t matter. She was not going to accept the money. Why should Mr. Parsley leave it to her, in any case? If there was anyone to contest the will it could very easily be overthrown. It could be said that his mind had been clouded, or even that undue influence had been exerted. But it seemed that there was no relatives to care. She found herself wishing that the legatee could be someone like old Joe, but that was the kind of thing that never happened in real life. Thinking of the old man she was seized, quite unexpectedly, with terror of his kind of future, a future in which she, too, might be alone at the end, like Bernard Parsley. It could so easily happen to anyone.
As she dressed she thought again of Matron’s proposal. Supposing she found herself still night sister of Bishopsbury in thirty years’ time? They sai
d Sister Barclay had been there nearly thirty years. Where had it got her? What had she seen of real life, outside the hospital walls? Somehow, standing in a steamy bathroom, holding tightly to a buttercup yellow towel, seemed the most natural way in the world of sending up a prayer.
An hour later she was standing in Casualty, frankly staring at the stretcher two ambulance men had just brought in. Micky was pale, but he managed a wink. “Hi, Fenny!”
“What have you done?”
“Only a quantity of cuts and bruises, I think. But these good chaps wouldn’t hear of my walking. Very motherly, they’ve been.”
“I suppose you’ve crashed the car?” She helped him on to the examination couch, and hoped that Mair would keep out of the way until she had cleaned the blood from his face. “Oh, Micky!”
“That’s right, I knew you’d say that! Oddly enough, no, I haven’t.” His mouth twitched. “I can’t laugh, because it hurts more than somewhat. I was run over by a bus, actually.” His breath hissed between his teeth as she swabbed his forehead. “One of those red things, you know.”
“But how?”
“Sheer carelessness.” He closed his eyes and winced again as she rolled him over to pull out the stretcher canvas.
Fenella followed the two ambulance men out into the corridor as she rolled the canvas. “What happened, really?”
The older man pushed his cap back and scratched his grizzled hair. “All for a cat, Nurse, believe it or not. A big ginger Tom, it was. Came darting out of the gate opposite here—we were still on the carpark when it happened. Me, I’d have let the little beast take its chance, they’re pretty fly.”