Then she straightened her shoulders, pulled her black belt snugly around her waist, and smoothed her uniform over her slight hips. She was tall, and her slenderness enhanced her height, giving her an air of remote fragility that was very attractive. But it was true that now she did not look well – her face had that slightly muddy look that comes with too much work, and not enough time to relax before more work piles up.
Matron’s office seemed ominously quiet to Barbara when she answered the cool “Come in!” and walked sedately across to the big desk.
Matron looked up at her, her usually stern face relaxing with pleasure.
“Nice to see you, Sister,” she said cordially. “You’ve been so busy in the theatres lately, I seem to have missed you on my rounds. You’re always scrubbed up when I put my head round the door. Sit down, my dear. You look tired,” and she looked shrewdly at Barbara’s face, clearly defined in the early morning light from the big window.
“Thank you, Matron,” Barbara sat mechanically, her mind racing. Obviously, not a case at a country branch, or Matron would have said something immediately. What then?
Matron was leaning back in her chair, smiling at her. “Barbara Hughes,” she said reminiscently. “I remember your first day here, my dear. So intense – so very shy –” She laughed. “You’ve grown up a lot since then, haven’t you?”
Barbara was guarded. What was Matron getting at? “I’m nearly thirty, Matron,” she said. “Time I grew up, I suppose.”
“You have been happy at the Royal all these years?” The question came crisply.
Barbara raised an eyebrow, looking across at the older woman with directness.
“Why the past tense?”
Matron stood up, and came round to Barbara’s side of the desk and leaned against it as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
“Hmm. Straight question. All right – straight answer. You aren’t well, are you?”
“I’m fine! Whatever made you think –?” Barbara’s voice was shrill with sudden anxiety.
“Oh don’t try any fiddle-faddle with me, my girl.” Matron was suddenly brisk. “You’ve got an ulcer, haven’t you? And it’s bothering you at the moment, isn’t it? So I think the time has come for you to leave the theatres for a while – and, perhaps to leave the Royal –”
“Oh no!” Barbara’s dismay was almost ludicrous in its intensity. “You aren’t going to sack me, surely?”
Matron shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly, my dear. You’re much too good a Sister for that. But I hope to persuade you to see that you ought to go – for your own sake – just for a while.”
“Oh, Matron!” Barbara slumped in her chair a little. “I’ve already been through all this with Daniel – Doctor Marston – I like theatre. I’m happy there. And as for leaving the Royal – I couldn’t. It’s my home – I’ve been here ten years!”
“I know, my dear. But all the same, it’s time for you to make a change. You’re too – insulated here. It isn’t good for anyone to spend so long in one place, believe me – not at your age. And now you aren’t really fit, the move becomes more than advisable. It’s imperative. I’d be a pretty poor Matron if I let you make yourself really ill by keeping you on theatre. And that’s what would happen.”
Barbara bit her lip, angrily. “I suppose this is Daniel’s doing,” she said bitterly. “Interfering –”
“I wouldn’t call a friend’s concern for my well-being interfering,” Matron said, her eyes crinkling a little. “He came to me because, I gather, you wouldn’t listen to him. And he’s been more than fair. He could have gone to Sir Peter, you know, and he’s one of the old school. He’d have recommended that you be taken away from theatre, and I’d have been forced to do just that. This way, at least you have a chance to decide for yourself.”
Barbara looked up, one eyebrow slightly raised: “Have I? Really?”
Matron laughed, gently. “I suppose not. But at least you can pretend this was your own idea. There won’t be any record of the decision being forced on you.”
“All right then,” Barbara said unwillingly. “I know when I’m beaten. I suppose I’ll have to ask for a transfer to another department –”
“No hope,” Matron went back to her chair, and folded her hands crisply. “I told you, my dear – you need a complete change. There isn’t a department in the Royal I’d send you to, in your state of health. What you need is a really quiet job – in a cottage hospital, perhaps –”
Barbara grimaced. “A cottage hospital! Have a heart, Matron! From the Royal to a cottage hospital? I’d die of boredom!”
“You wouldn’t, you know,” Matron sounded nostalgic, suddenly. “I started nursing in a cottage hospital, when I was seventeen – longer ago than I care to remember. It was delightful, that year I spent there. I think I learnt more about people and real nursing then than I learned in all the years of my training. It’s quieter than a big teaching hospital like this, I grant you – and from your point of view that’s what matters – but it’s far from boring.”
Barbara stirred impatiently in her chair. “I’m sure you’re right, Matron,” she said with perfunctory courtesy, “but I just don’t see myself working in a cottage hospital, somehow. I’ve lived in London for ten years now – all my friends are here –”
“You won’t lose the real ones just because you leave London for a while. And you’ll make some new ones. Now, look, my dear. You said a moment ago that you’d grown up – and it would be positively infantile to refuse to face the facts now. You aren’t well, and a year at a quieter job now could save you months of real illness later, which would prevent you from working at all. Be your age, girl! See sense.”
Barbara stood up, lifting her dark head to stare out of the big window across the busy traffic-roaring road. Then she sighed, sharply, and looked at Matron with a rueful smile on her delicate face.
“Put like that, what can I do? I’ll have to give in gracefully, I suppose. I daresay I could get a job at Sandleas Cottage Hospital.”
“Sandleas?”
“My sister lives there. Little place on the Kent coast, near Sandwich. One of those towns where everyone knows everybody else’s business, and the hospital has all of thirty beds. You know?”
Matron nodded briskly. “What could be better? Sea air, someone to look after you, and a nice quiet place to work. And after a year or so, when you’re quite fit again, we’ll see about your coming back to the Royal. Let me know when you have everything settled, and in the meantime, I’ll send another staff nurse to theatre to take some of the load from you. Now, take the rest of the morning off duty to get this move organised – Sister Barker can carry on for a while.” Barbara had nearly reached the door when Matron’s voice called her back.
“And Sister–” Matron’s eyes were quizzical, “Don’t be too angry with Doctor Marston over this. I’d have found out sooner or later, you know, and the result would have been exactly the same. Better sooner than later, as it happens.”
Barbara smiled at her, a wintry little smile, and then closed the door softly behind her to stand, for a moment, in the wide quiet corridor outside.
Behind her still face, she was seething with impotent rage. She had known Matron far too long and too well to argue with her when her mind was obviously made up, as it was over this business, but however calm and sensible Barbara may have seemed in the office, now she was furious. How dare Daniel run to Matron, telling tales like a silly schoolboy? Who did he think he was to interfere in her life in this high-handed fashion?
She pulled her cape round her shoulders more firmly, and with her head high, started down the corridor towards the doctors’ common room. She picked her way over the buckets and mops that littered the corridor, past the little broom cupboard where a couple of maids were gossiping over an illicit cigarette, and put her head round the big door of the main sitting room.
Only Jeff, the House-Surgeon on Daniel’s team, was there, sprawled in a big armchair behind a newspaper, h
is head wreathed in smoke from his smelly old pipe. He looked surprised when Barbara greeted him.
“Hello, Sister! You O.K. now? Gave me a proper turn you did, passing out all funny like!” His mock cockney concern hid a real interest. “Mustn’t do things like that, you know. Proper upsetting it was!”
“I’m fine, thanks, Jeff. Just hunger, that’s all it was. Is Daniel around, do you know? I want a word with him.”
Jeff lounged to his feet. “You’re welcome to him this morning,” he said, grimacing slightly. “He’s in a foul temper. Marched off to the pool for a swim and told me I’d just bloody well have to cope on my own till lunchtime. Which is why I’m skulking here. If I go round the wards, everyone’ll be asking questions only he can answer. I’m staying out of the way.”
Barbara laughed a little grimly. “That’s just fine. I’m in a temper too, so we should have an interesting discussion. Thanks, Jeff. I’ll be seeing you.”
She hurried over to her room, her head high. If Daniel thought he’d be able to avoid her by taking the morning off, he had another think coming, she told herself angrily, as she grabbed her swim suit and towel. He wasn’t the only one who could find time for a swim this morning.
The little indoor pool a grateful ex-patient had presented to the staff of the hospital was quiet when she got there. She couldn’t see Daniel at all, and the three medical students who were splashing around in the shallow end climbed out and made for the showers as she slipped into a cubicle and started to change.
When she came out, her tall body neatly encased in its sleek black suit, her hair tucked under a tight cap, there was no one at all in the water. The green tiles gleamed and shimmered, reflecting the slowly moving water in flashes of cool light. As she stood for a moment, poised on the edge, Daniel suddenly appeared at the deep end, to stand staring down into the green depths, his face closed and grim. He hadn’t seen her, and for a second she looked at him, at his muscular square body and flat abdomen, and in spite of herself and her anger, she thought, “He improves with his age – a handsome man –”
And then he lifted on his toes for a second, and went in, cleaving the water in a perfect dive. Immediately, Barbara followed suit, to come up a few feet from where Daniel was swimming strongly towards the far end of the bath.
“Good morning, Doctor Marston,” Barbara’s voice echoed loudly through the pool. “How nice to see you!”
He turned on his back and started to tread water.
“Barbara!” His surprise made him look ludicrous. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you on duty?”
She started to swim lazily towards the side, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Oh, I’ve all the time in the world,” she said, her voice smooth, “I’ve been given the boot, you know, so what does an extra morning off matter?”
He frowned sharply, and followed her until they both reached the rail, to hold on to it, staring angrily at each other across the few feet of green water between them.
“The sack? I don’t believe it,” he said flatly.
“I didn’t say the sack, did I? But I’ve got my marching orders all the same,” Barbara said. “Matron thinks I should spend a year in a cottage hospital – to get my health right, I gather. And I also gather that I have you to thank for her solicitude.”
He heaved himself out of the water to sit on the edge of the pool, staring down at her.
“You wouldn’t listen to me,” he said, his voice expressionless. “So I thought you’d listen to Matron. If you haven’t the sense to see for yourself what you should do, then obviously someone else must make you do the right thing.”
Barbara too pulled herself out of the pool to stand dripping beside him, her face grim as she looked down at him.
“And who do you think you are to decide what is the right thing for me? How dare you interfere in my affairs in this high-handed fashion?” Her voice was scathing. “You may have the power of life or death over your patients, Doctor Marston, but you certainly have no call to try to extend that power to me, I assure you. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”
“I am sure you are – except in this case it seemed to me that you were in considerable need of guidance.”
“Did it indeed? Marston the omnipotent! You thought I needed guidance, and when I refused it, you made sure that your advice was forced upon me! Remarkable piece of medical practice!”
“I acted as a friend, not a doctor.” His voice was low.
“I cannot see that you did anything of the sort,” Barbara said icily. “Had you been the friend you profess to be, you would have known how much I wanted to stay in the theatres, and how much I would hate the idea of working anywhere but the Royal. There’s one comfort in it all, I suppose – I won’t have to see you again!” The cold dislike in her voice made him flinch for a moment, and then his face settled into its firm craggy lines again. He stood up, and reached for his towel from the bench beside him.
“You are obviously much too emotionally disturbed over this to listen to reason,” he said coldly. “So I won’t attempt to offer any. I have no doubt that you will come to agree with me, when you’ve had time to simmer down a little.”
“And I have no doubt that I will do nothing of the sort,” Barbara flared, her face flushed with anger. “You are absolutely the most arrogant, unpleasant man I have ever met!”
“You haven’t met enough men, then,” he said, with a glint of humour. “Look, Barbara – I’m sorry you’re so angry about this, but believe me, I acted for the best – and you will come to see that, really you will. In the meantime – where will you be going? I’d like to know –”
“And I’d rather you didn’t! I don’t want to see you again, Doctor Marston. You’ve done quite enough damage already, thank you. In future, I’ll have the sense to keep well out of your way!”
And with a last angry stare at his face, she turned and ran to her cubicle. As she closed the door, she had a glimpse of him standing very still and straight at the edge of the pool, his towel held in one hand, his face stern and closed. When she came out again, her wet swim suit in her hand, he was gone. The pool was quiet and empty again, and as she stared across it she thought miserably, “I’ll never swim here again, I suppose. And I won’t see him again, either.” And she wasn’t sure whether the sense of desolation she felt was because of the loss of the Royal, or the loss of an old friendship.
Chapter Two
She stared out of the train window at the telegraph poles swooping past, at the green hedges blurred with speed, and let her magazine fall into her lap. Across the carriage, a woman with a fretful child crooned indistinctly in an effort to make the whining infant settle to sleep, and a man in the opposite corner rattled his newspaper irritably at the sound.
Barbara smiled a little, momentarily diverted, and then she turned back to the window and her thoughts. She felt curiously empty. It had taken all her willpower not to weep, the day before, when her nurses had shyly presented her with their leaving gift – a neat travelling clock. She had been swallowing her tears for four weeks, ever since she had made the final arrangements to leave the Royal, to go to Sandleas Cottage Hospital as a “Second Sister”. But now she felt quite calm.
The letter from the Matron of the Cottage Hospital was in her bag, and she took it out to re-read it.
“I do hope you’ll be happy here. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am that you’re coming to me. To have a Royal trained nurse is quite a feather in our caps anyway – there aren’t many of you London girls who want to come to a quiet place like this – but to have Mrs. Geoffrey Martin’s sister on the staff is even more of an honour. I’m sure I’d like to offer you a room in our little Nurses’ Home, but I realise, of course, that you’d much rather stay with your sister.”
A most un-matronly letter, thought Barbara, as she slipped it back into its envelope. And she felt a little worried by the starry-eyed way the Matron wrote about “Mrs. Geoffrey Martin’s sister”. Barbara knew that Geof
frey was a fairly large frog in his little pond – but she hadn’t realised how much Mary reflected his glory.
She started to think about Mary. She had been fourteen when Barbara had been born, and to the young Mary, her mother had been outrageous to present her with an infant sister after so many years of being an only child.
She had paid little attention to Barbara while she was growing up, and when Mary had married a young solicitor from Sandleas, the two had seen even less of each other, even after their parents had died, just after Barbara started training at the Royal.
Now, Mary was forty-three, and Geoffrey was forty-five, and their two children were growing up fast. “Jamie must be – sixteen now,” thought Barbara, a little surprised. “Time goes so fast, and I haven’t seen them for nearly two years now. Italy last holidays, and then they went to Spain the year before –” She slid deeper into reverie. “And Josie – she must be twelve – I wonder if Geoffrey’s still the same –”
The train rattled over the points, and Barbara roused herself to grope on the rack for her two cases, to powder her nose and straighten her crumpled suit. Canterbury in five minutes. Geoffrey had promised to meet her there with the car “ – because the branch line is so tedious,” Mary had written. “I’ll see he meets your train, my dear. We’re looking forward to seeing you, especially the children. And for heaven’s sake, do stop all this nonsense about living at the hospital. I couldn’t possibly permit it. I’d never be able to face people if my own sister was working in the town, and didn’t live with me.”
“Never mind what I’d like to do,” thought Barbara a little wryly, as she peered out of the slowing train, trying to see Geoffrey’s spare figure on the platform. “But I daresay it will be all right. And it’s a very comfortable house.”
The train ground agonisingly to a stop, and Barbara swung down on to the platform, stretching her cramped back a little as she looked around the bustling noisy station.
“Barbara!” There was real pleasure in the quiet voice behind her, and Barbara swung round to see Geoffrey smiling gently at her. His face was more heavily lined than it had been the last time she had seen him, she thought, but his crisp fair hair showed no trace of white. It still looked as though it had been crimped, so neat were the even waves that ran across his head. All his life his tightly curling hair had been an embarrassment to him, and especially after he qualified. As a solicitor, carefully climbing the ladder of success, he had to look the part, so he kept his rebellious hair cut short and brutally brushed close to his head. His rather pale blue eyes, a little too large for his thin face, were tired too, Barbara thought, but he still held himself very erect, his neat black suit sitting prim and spotless across his narrow shoulders.
Cottage Hospital Page 2