A Ward Door Opens: A touching 1950s hospital romance (The Anniversary Collection Book 7)

by Lucilla Andrews

  I looked at George, expecting him to say his piece about going out on the town. He shuffled his manuscript together with a set face. ‘I’ll let you know the outcome of my chat with Carol. Thanks for coming along, Avis.’

  ‘Glad I did. It was fun. See you later, Maggie.’

  Directly we were alone, George dropped his manuscript on to a chair, and with it all pretence. ‘Why, oh, why, did I have to open my big mouth so wide? I never meant it to be a crack.’

  ‘I know that, George.’

  ‘But she didn’t.’

  I hesitated. ‘She doesn’t really know you very well. She’s very shy, doesn’t go in for young men, hasn’t any brothers, can’t remember her father. He died when she was tiny. So she’s rather out of her depth.’

  He sighed, came and leant on the piano and looked at me unhappily. ‘That makes two of us, Maggie. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. Never before have I drawn a complete blank as with her. I’ve tried to get to know her. I’ve suggested vague dates, and spent hours sitting in the canteen waiting for her to show up. She never has.’

  ‘She hasn’t told me about those dates. Just how vague were they?’

  ‘The usual line.’

  ‘I wonder if she recognised them as straight invitations? She probably didn’t. I keep telling you, she has never run around with the boys and doesn’t know the form. If you want to date her you must put it good and clear. “Will you come with me to such-and-such, on so-and-so? I’ll call for you at whatever time it is”.’ I sat back. ‘Vague hints will be useless with Avis. She simply won’t believe that they refer to her, or that anyone’s interested enough to date her, unless it’s made absolutely plain.’

  He thought this over. ‘Maybe you’re right. But, Maggie ‒’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I don’t think she approves of me. I shall have to cancel that table I booked for this evening.’

  I was touched by his expression. I had never seen him look like that before. ‘Approve isn’t quite the word. She doesn’t dislike you. I’m sure of that. I think she’s ‒ well, scared of you.’

  ‘Scared?’ His voice cracked. ‘Of me? Who am I supposed to be? The mighty Jock?’

  ‘No. But you’re one of the boys. You know half the hospital on a Christian name basis. You run the Dramatic Society. You play in the Fifteen. I know this won’t make you conceited so I may as well say it. You’re a very popular and attractive young man, so you scare her.’

  ‘You mustn’t go round saying things like that!’

  ‘Why not, if they are true? Now be quiet and let me think.’ I sat racking my brain. After a moment or two I said, ‘George, could you tell me one thing? And don’t be cross with me for asking. Are you quite sure that this time it is different?’

  He met my eyes. He did not launch into an indignant insistence, or tell me to wait until I fell in love and then I’d know. He said, ‘Yes.’

  The quiet monosyllable reassured me as nothing else would have done. ‘Then I think you had better do some telephoning. Ring Avis, before you cancel that table. Tell her you booked it in the hope that you would be able to persuade her to dine with you.’

  His jaw sagged. ‘Maggie, you’re bats! She’ll think I am, too! I was going to lead up to it casually, not just come out with it flat.’

  I struck a terrific chord. ‘I keep telling you, she won’t catch on unless you do come out with things flat. How is the poor girl supposed to know these things? By radar? If you want to take her out to dinner, go and ask her quickly. Late supper starts here in twenty minutes.’

  ‘She probably doesn’t even want to talk to me.’

  I found another chord. ‘Then give her the opportunity to refuse. It will at least show you where you stand, and your invitation will show her that it wasn’t a spur of the moment date. Don’t forget, tell her you’ve booked a table in hope. A girl likes to be told these things, particularly a girl like Avis who is very unsure of herself. If you really are serious, show her, and keep on showing her. And don’t go round reminding her that in some ways Cinderella could be her middle name.’

  He stared at me. ‘Do you honestly believe there is a faint hope of my getting a “Yes” for an answer?’

  I gave one small nod. He responded with an immense and fraternal hug that nearly cracked my ribs. He dropped his arms sharply as we heard the sound of the library door closing.

  I jumped up. ‘Who was that? I didn’t hear anyone come in.’

  He slid softly to the door, opened it carefully, peered out down the corridor, then closed the door and leant against it grinning ruefully. ‘I’ve done it again! Three guesses who I’ve just seen making tactful tracks.’

  I flopped back on to the piano stool and closed my eyes. ‘Not the S.M.O.?’

  ‘Yes, the mighty Jock himself. There goes my reputation for another six. Yours, too, sweetie. Thank goodness, we do know the Old Man can keep his mouth shut! Otherwise, the cat would be among the pigeons. First, I nip up to the Wing, obviously to whisper sweet nothings into your ears in the small hours. Then I borrow the Med. School Library from the Dean and, instead of rehearsing, lock you in a fond embrace. I must have quite a character in old Jock’s eyes.’ He ruffled his hair until it looked exactly like an upturned scrubbing-brush. ‘I wouldn’t mind that so much if it didn’t involve you as well.’

  I smiled wryly. ‘Don’t worry. What’s done is done. After all, we are off-duty and I’m not in uniform.’

  ‘If you were, we’d be on our way for the high jump right now. I don’t want to panic you, but when he took me apart he warned me that the next time ‒’ He jerked a thumb downwards and left his sentence unfinished.

  ‘He said that to me, too.’ I sighed. ‘That man always arrives at the wrong moment where I’m concerned. You’d think there was an invisible magnet working somewhere. I’ve only got to be breaking some rule for me to turn round ‒ and there he is.’

  ‘You mean it’s happened before? Who else has come visiting you?’

  ‘No one. I was talking about other things.’ I remembered the time. ‘I’ll tell you some other evening. If you are going to catch Avis in, you must hurry.’

  ‘You still think I ought to ring her?’

  I waved him to the door. ‘Get going, George!’

  He vanished at last. He did not come back. I closed the piano and switched off the lights. I was too late for supper, but as I was not at all hungry I did not mind having to miss it. I went back to the Night Home. It was very quiet as the girls were all on duty. I looked in at Avis’s room. It was in darkness. Yes, Avis was out with George!

  I returned to my own room and leaned out of the window without bothering to switch on my light. The hospital was blazing with light. The wards had not yet all settled for the night. The Theatre block seemed unusually peaceful. As I watched, the main lights in three of the surgical wards went off and the soft red night lights glowed like rubies in a fog. In one of the corridor windows of the Wing I saw Standing flash past, a few seconds later she was followed by Jo. I wondered how they were getting on together and whether Jo would find the Wing as fascinating as she seemed to think it was. My thoughts shot back to that night she sent George to visit me. Had she really done that intentionally, to get me moved?

  And then, just as I was feeling utterly saddened and depressed by the thought that someone like Jo ‒ someone whom I had liked and trusted ‒ could behave in that fashion, the Wing fire-escape door opened. I saw Dr. Cameron clearly because, having opened the door, he stood looking back across the hospital for a few moments. He was too far off for me to see his expression, but the light was on his face and when he rubbed his chin, I recognised the gesture as plainly as if I were standing by him. Then he stepped inside and closed the door. I stayed by the window for a long time, but that door did not open again.

  Slowly, I began to understand a little about Jo. The Wing was the one place in Jude’s in which a junior at night could hope to meet and be noticed by the S.M.O., and see him regu
larly. If Jo was willing to go to the lengths to which I was afraid she had gone, just to meet, be noticed, and see him, he must be pretty important to her. I understood now how she felt. A door had opened and shown me that he was the most important person in my world. And then I remembered how he had come into the library and seen George apparently embracing me. I winced involuntarily, recollecting George’s words. ‘I must have quite a character in old Jock’s eyes.’ That made two of us. I, too, must have quite a character in Dr. Jock Cameron’s eyes.

  Avis brought her breakfast tray into my room next morning, and settled on the end of my bed. Her eyes were luminous, her expression guarded.

  ‘Nice outing?’ I asked brightly.

  ‘Yes, thanks. I hope you didn’t think it rather odd, my going off and leaving you, just like that?’

  I was longing to ask dozens of questions, but as she was obviously dreading them, I merely smiled. ‘I’m ashamed to say I got so keen on music-making that I really didn’t notice anything or anybody. I even forgot late supper. I believe I’ve got all those lyrics taped. It will be splendid if you’re Cinderella! We can practise together before we go to bed.’

  She relaxed visibly and clutched my red herring. ‘The idea makes me frightfully nervous, but it’s rather exciting. Who else is in the cast?’

  Jo arrived off-duty in the middle of our discussion. She sank gracefully into my armchair and removed her shoes. ‘That Wing corridor must be twice as long as any ward; I’ve been scampering up and down it all night.’

  ‘How did you get on with Standing?’ I asked curiously.

  ‘Much as you’d expect. She obviously took a violent dislike to me, but I refused to let it bother me.’ She studied her well-shaped hands. ‘I mean, is it my fault if the S.M.O. remembered me? I didn’t really expect him to recognise me at all. He hasn’t met me face to face since the Hockey Ball and then I was in an evening dress. But, of course, I knew from the moment she saw the way he looked at me when I happened to come out of the clinical-room that I was in for a tricky time.’

  Avis caught my eye momentarily.

  I smiled. ‘This is all very intriguing, Jo. Tell us more. Just how did he look at you?’

  ‘Maggie, darling, you know how a man looks when he isn’t expecting to see you and you suddenly appear!’

  ‘Frankly, I don’t. If I do a jack-in-a-box act, people just look surprised.’

  She said I would grow up one day. ‘Incidentally, I’ve got news for you, Maggie. Your precious George is straying from your side again. Bill walked over with me just now. He told me George was out on a heavy date last night. He must have gone after your rehearsal. What do you know about that?’

  I grinned. ‘I’ve got news for you, chum.’ I hoped Avis would realise that it would be folly to attempt to hide her harmless dinner with George. It might not be general knowledge yet; it soon would be. Someone from the hospital would have seen them together, somewhere. Someone always did. ‘He took Avis out to dinner.’

  ‘Avis!’ She spun round to look at Avis, then roared with laughter. ‘How simply wonderful! George Thanet dating our Avis!’

  ‘Why?’ I asked more sharply than I could have wished. The light had faded from Avis’s eyes and her cheeks were much paler than they had been a few seconds ago.

  ‘But George always goes in for such glamorous ones. I mean ‒ well, you’re hardly his type, Avis. Mind you, I think he’s showing very good taste,’ she added sweetly.

  Avis said nothing.

  I asked, ‘Does one have to be typed to go out to dinner with a man?’

  She waved my query aside. ‘Avis dear, you won’t let him lead you up the garden path, will you? And promise you’ll take everything he says with a large grain of salt. Don’t let him add you to his scalp collection. I simply could not bear that.’

  Avis smiled with her lips. ‘I won’t. Relax, Jo. I never have been interested in queueing.’

  ‘If someone did take him to heart, she could be hurt pretty badly,’ Jo went on.

  I said slowly. ‘The day will surely come when he himself will take someone to heart. It always does. Take my brother Paul.’

  She jumped up. ‘Maggie, I know your brothers are all heaven in your eyes, but I really don’t want to take Paul this morning ‒ if you don’t mind! I’ve got to rush and change. Bill will be waiting.’

  ‘Is Bill free? On Wednesday morning? Isn’t Doc. Frinton lecturing?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea! Bill said he had to talk to me about something and I said he could take me out somewhere for coffee. I’m not getting up early for anyone.’

  ‘Jo, his Finals are round the corner. He oughtn’t to skip the Prof of Medicine’s lecture.’

  She shrugged casually. ‘That’s his look-out. Sorry I can’t linger, girls.’ She smiled down at Avis. ‘Has George dated you for today?’

  ‘He couldn’t very well, since we’ve got a lunch and theatre date fixed already,’ I put in quickly.

  ‘Didn’t he try and talk you out of it, Avis? You lucky girl! I have the most ghastly time with my men! They simply will not take no for an answer.’

  There was a different atmosphere in the Wing when I returned to duty. Several new patients had come in during the last couple of days, and they naturally looked on me as yet another strange face. Standing was in one of her most fractious moods. Miss Ashbrook was worried because there had been some unavoidable delay in the repair of her spectacle lenses. And Fiona was unusually subdued. I explained to the new patients that I was the permanent night junior. ‘I’m afraid it must be trying having to grow accustomed to yet another nurse. I think you’ve met us all now, so it will only be a question of sorting us out.’

  I could not do anything about Standing, beyond staying out of her way as much as possible. This was not easy, since it was one of those nights when all the men arrived to do their rounds at the same time. She had to keep ringing me to take over what she was doing, while she attempted to be in three places at once. In some incredible fashion, she managed this. I was not summoned to escort anyone.

  I tried to comfort Miss Ashbrook about her spectacles. ‘How’s the sweater going?’ I asked, hoping this would cheer her.

  It had the reverse effect. ‘My hands are not as nimble as they used to be. I have had to put it to one side, until I can use my eyes.’ She unzipped her knitting-bag and laid the knitting on her table. ‘See what a sad business I have made of it.’

  ‘I’m afraid you have dropped a few stitches.’ I hesitated, and calculated how busy I was likely to be when Standing went for her meal. Having reached an optimistic decision, I offered to straighten it out for her during the night.

  ‘Would you, dear? Thank you so much.’

  I scurried back to the kitchen, holding her knitting bag under my apron skirt on the side away from the duty-room. Standing was at the desk, talking to Dr. Cameron. She frowned slightly as I went by, apparently with one hand in my pocket, but did not break off her conversation. I guessed I would be in for another pep-talk on conduct unseemly to young nurses, later. I decided to face that only when I had to, and I hid the knitting-bag behind the large oatmeal tin at the back of the store cupboard.

  Fiona told me what was upsetting her, when I returned to settle her for the night. ‘I’m worried about Uncle Jock, Nurse. I know this will sound absurd, seeing that he’s a doctor and surrounded by trained people ‒ but I don’t think he looks at all well. And he’s gone all grim.’

  I glanced at her, remembering my own impression when I saw him in daylight for the first time. ‘He’s very busy.’ I tucked fresh cotton wool under the edge of the plaster round her foot. ‘He must get weary.’

  ‘That might account for his looking as he does, but not for being so grim. He’s not a person to use hard work as an excuse to bite off heads. I’ve got a nasty hunch that something big must be worrying him. I’ve noticed before that when he looks as if he’s carved out of solid granite, it’s a sure sign that he’s upset. It’s come on suddenly, too
. He was in fine form up to Tuesday night. Then when that luscious girl who took your place brought him in, I saw at once that something had happened. He had altered, and has stayed altered. I wish I knew why.’

  I rubbed her good heel with spirit and thought, I wish I didn’t. Supposing Jo really had made an impression on the S.M.O. at that Ball? He might not have known whom she was. Possibly he thought she was someone from the outside and had long since given up hope of seeing her again. In a hospital the size of Jude’s, it was easier not to see, than to see people, unless you worked together. Consequently, her sudden appearance in a second-year uniform could shake him. I had seen other men look as if they had been hit smartly between the eyes when meeting Jo. She had that certain quality, which Standing lacked, despite Standing’s exquisitely regular features. The fact that Jo was so junior would add to his shock. Senior residents and juniors might meet on-duty and occasionally talk; never off-duty. That was one of the unwritten rules of the hospital. It must also be the main reason for Jo’s determination to work in the Wing. She probably felt, with good reason, on past showing, that if he saw enough of her, he would find some method of getting round that rule.

  As I had no solution to offer about Fiona’s uncle, I drew the conversation away from him, and chatted about our rehearsal and the show I had seen yesterday.

  ‘I hope I’ll be able to see your pantomime,’ Fiona said. ‘If I’ve been discharged, I’ll get Uncle Jock to smuggle me in, somehow.’

  I shook her pillows. ‘Have you any idea how much longer you’ll be with us?’

  ‘Two or three weeks.’

  ‘What happens then?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ She gave me an odd little grimace. ‘You see, we haven’t got a home over here yet. We’ll have to get an apartment, but what with my accident, and his being so busy, there’s been no time for house-hunting. Life’s been such a rush these last few months. Uncle Jock calls this a home from home,’ she added huskily. ‘In a way it is. In another, it’s nothing of the sort.’ She sighed very sadly. ‘Oh, Nurse, you don’t know how much I long for a proper home, where we can unpack and stay unpacked. I detest suitcases. I want to put all ours away in an attic and let the dust accumulate on them. I want a place where I can arrange the furniture how I like. And I want a garden. I know nothing about gardening, but how I want a garden! I want to be able to pick the flowers. You can never pick flowers in other people’s gardens, and apartments don’t have them. If they do have window-boxes, they are generally looked after by the janitor and, as Uncle says, the flowers are numbered from left to right, and there’s a major crisis if you suddenly decide you want a buttonhole.’