I stopped the car outside the Casualty Department. The door was wide open. A porter looked out at once. ‘You mustn’t park here, Miss,’ he said politely. ‘This is for ambulances.’ Then he saw my passenger. ‘’Evening sir ‒ what have you been doing?’
Dr. Cameron’s cool, almost amused reply had an electric reaction. ‘You stay where you are, sir,’ the porter said. ‘Stay with the gentleman, Miss. I’ll get the Sister and the House-Surgeon.’ He vanished and returned almost at once with a tall, thin, fair young man in a long white coat. Never in my life had I been so pleased to see anyone as I was to see that strange house-surgeon. And when, a few minutes later, I followed the small procession into Casualty, I thought the mingled scent of ether and iodiform, so marked after the cold clear night air, the most wonderful scent in the world.
I sat and waited thankfully on a hard chair outside a white-tiled dressing-room. I did not feel I was in a strange hospital, I felt as if I had come home.
A slight spare man with greying hair and the brisk manner of a typical surgeon came out to speak to me some time later. ‘Miss Blakney? Are you from Jude’s, too? I believe your home is quite near?’ His eyes appraised me shrewdly. ‘My name is Scott. I’m the Surgical Registrar. I’ve just been discussing you with Dr. Cameron. He wants to see you before we take him along to the theatre.’
I answered his spate of questions and asked, ‘How is he, Mr. Scott?’
He rocked on his heels. ‘In pretty fair condition, considering the circumstances. He’ll need a few stitches and possibly a transfusion. Any idea how much he lost?’
‘Quite a lot.’
He nodded. ‘Inevitably. Right. Come and see him now.’
The Night Sister and a nurse were standing by the couch. They smiled at me and moved away. Dr. Cameron was half-lying, half-sitting on the couch. They had given him a proper sling; his hand and wrist were hidden under sterile towels. He looked like a charcoal drawing; everything about him was black or white, and even the blue of his eyes was drowned in shadow and they seemed nearly as dark as his hair.
He looked up at me unsmilingly. ‘I asked to see you before I go under. You won’t be here when I come round. I shall probably be transferred to Jude’s in the morning, and there may not be another opportunity in the immediate future for me to thank you for what you have done for me tonight. Scott is probably ringing up your father now. He is going to arrange for either a hospital car or ambulance to take you back to your home. He seems to think one or other has to go out in that direction. Night Sister is going to contact Jude’s for me. The Office will let your Home Sister know that you won’t be back tonight. I expect our Matron will get in touch with you some time tomorrow. So really there is nothing more for me to say except ‒ thank you very much.’ He smiled briefly and held out his hand.
I stared at his hand. I would have given him mine, but I could not move. ‘Do I have to go home? Can’t I go on to Jude’s by train? It isn’t so late. Or couldn’t I stay in a hotel here ‒ there’s a very good hotel just down the street ‒ and go in the morning. I’m on duty tomorrow night.’
He dropped his outstretched hand as if it were a stone. ‘I may be temporarily out of action, but I am still S.M.O. at Jude’s. No nurse goes on-duty if I consider her unfit to work. Tomorrow night you’ll be at your home. I realise the situation in the Wing and I am exceedingly sorry to have to deprive your patients and Nurse Standing of your services. I’m afraid this may be a disappointment to you, too, but I’m not going to allow personal considerations to sway my judgement. I will talk to our Matron in the morning, either in person or on the ’phone. I believe you’ll find Matron will agree with me.’
I was too stunned by his words to take this in, and the fact that he should have chosen this moment to say them. It was difficult to answer. ‘Yes. I see. I’m sure she will.’
His brows drew together. He must have had some injection to ease his arm, but it did not appear to have affected him in any other way. His eyes were keen. ‘Do you really see why? You’re not misunderstanding me? I wouldn’t want you to do that,’ he added gently.
‘No, no. I quite understand.’ I backed away from him. ‘Thank you for explaining. I’m sure you shouldn’t talk any more. Good luck.’ And I swung round and shot out of the room, blinking furiously. I walked straight into the Surgical Registrar, Mr. Scott, who was waiting just outside the door.
‘What’s all this, young woman?’ he barked not unkindly. ‘Tears, now it’s all over! You come along and sit in the Sister’s office. Nurse will get you a cup of tea and you can have a wash and tidy up, and then we’re sending you home in a hospital car. The porter will put Dr. Cameron’s car in our park for the night. We’ll get a local garage to see about it in the morning.’ The Casualty nurse and the car driver were equally kind. The driver explained why he was going out at that time of the night, but although I tried to listen intelligently I fell asleep in the middle of his explanation. It was the same when I arrived home. I fought the overwhelming desire to sleep and attempted to tell them all that had happened in a voice that did not sound like my own. My father cut me short. ‘It can keep, child. No more explanations, now. You’re going to bed.’
The sun was low in the sky when I woke. I looked at my watch. It had stopped, I had forgotten to wind it up. I heard someone tread softly past my door. The slight hesitation in the step told me it was Fiona. I called to her. ‘What time is it?’
She limped in at once. ‘Ten past three. You have had a sleep! Your father said no one was to disturb you until you woke yourself. We’ve all been tiptoeing round while you’ve been doing a Rip Van Winkle.’ She lowered herself carefully on to the foot of my bed. ‘You’ll feel like Rip Van Winkle when you hear what’s been going on!’
But there was something I had to find out. ‘How’s your uncle?’
‘Your father rang up early, I rang ‒ and then Uncle Jock rang me back himself from some ward. Yes, he really truly did, so just relax! He said he was fine, as good as new. He’s got a few odd stitches and clips in his left arm and a couple of pints of new blood racing round inside him. He’ll be back in Jude’s now. They were sending him up by ambulance at eleven. I rather wish he had not had to be transferred. It would have been so nice to have him so near and everyone in that hospital sounded simply sweet. But he said it was a matter of etiquette at Jude’s.’
‘Yes.’ I chose my words carefully. I did not dare to show just how relieved I was. ‘I think it’s tradition in most hospitals that every hospital likes to care for its own.’
‘Your Matron told Dr. Blakney that,’ she agreed placidly.
‘Matron?’ I stiffened. ‘She telephoned here?’
‘Honey, everyone’s been ringing here all day! Between you and your father’s patients, the ’phone hasn’t stopped. I spent the entire morning sitting in your front-hall answering calls, and shouting for the right person. I wanted to help, and your mother said that would be the way. She has been so sweet to me, Maggie. And your father said that having me to take down his home messages was like having a spare secretary at home. I know I’ve just arrived, but I feel as if I’ve been here for years.’
‘When did Matron ring Daddy?’
‘Sometime in mid-morning. After Uncle Jock had talked to her. I know that because she told Dr. Blakney she was so pleased he had been well enough to telephone her himself,’ Fiona added happily. ‘Then a George Someone rang up and had a long talk with Dave. A girl called Avis Gavin rang and spoke to your mother for ages. Even Rowena Standing telephoned!’
‘Standing telephoned? Me?’
She nodded violently. ‘Your mother said you were still sleeping, so Rowena said of course she wouldn’t wake you, but wanted to let you know you mustn’t worry about not being back in the Wing tonight, and hoped you would have a good rest. She was obviously delighted with you ‒ I expect you know why. I couldn’t mention it before, because Uncle Jock told me I must never use her Christian name, or talk about his personal friends to any member of
the staff while I was a patient in Jude’s.’
‘Of course you couldn’t! Yes, I know why.’ I paused. ‘How kind of her.’
‘Kind?’ Her voice cracked. ‘Maggie, do you realise what might have happened if you hadn’t been in that car with him last night? To quote him, he might have been able to cope alone but he wouldn’t bet on it. I can’t describe how grateful I am to you.’ Her eyes darkened. ‘As I went to bed early last night, I didn’t know anything until your mother told me this morning. By then the news was all good. It wasn’t the same for Rowena. Uncle Jock telephoned her after he spoke to Matron, but she had heard of his accident last night when the County Hospital let Jude’s know its S.M.O. wouldn’t be back. She must have had a wretched night. She’s an odd person and she can be impossible, but in her own peculiar way she is very fond of him. I’m so relieved to think she’ll be looking after him. He says she’s the finest nurse he’s ever known and one-hundred-per-cent reliable.’ The shadow left her eyes and she chuckled. ‘I can’t help being amused at the thought of him in the Wing. He said he’ll have to be warded until after the tenth day for some reason I couldn’t follow. So soon you’ll have nursed the entire Cameron-Mason family. You’ll find him in Room Seven when you go back tomorrow.’
‘When I go back?’ The words rushed out involuntarily. ‘Fiona, am I going back?’
‘What on earth do you mean?’ She stared. ‘Have you gone crackers and decided to quit Jude’s? Of course you’re going back! That’s what your Matron rang about ‒ to tell you not to return to duty until tomorrow. Dr. Blakney said he gathered Uncle Jock had put his foot down because you had such a rough night last night and needed to sleep the clock round before you did any more travelling.’ She was watching me as keenly as he had done in that dressing-room last night. Her slim dark brows drew together in exactly the same way. ‘What’s the matter, Maggie? And what was that about not going back?’
I hesitated. ‘I had got hold of the wrong end of the stick.’
‘Maggie, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I want to know. Tell me!’ There was a rare urgency in her voice and manner. ‘Please.’
I still hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can. It’s just something to do with the hospital.’
‘Something you’ve done? Wrong?’
I nodded faintly.
‘Something concerning Uncle Jock?’ she asked. ‘Is that why you don’t want me to know? Is that what was upsetting you both in the car on the way down yesterday?’ she added very softly.
‘You noticed?’
‘I could hardly fail to. What’s it all about, Maggie?’ She smiled faintly. ‘If you’re thinking I’ll pass things on to Uncle Jock, you’re thinking wrong. I do tell him most things, but I can keep my mouth shut when I have to. You look as if you need to talk to someone or crack.’
I did not hesitate any longer. It was a glorious relief to confide in her.
I told her all about George and Avis. I did not have to mention Jo by name, and I said nothing about my feelings for her uncle. ‘I didn’t see how Dr. Cameron could do anything but suspend me, once he had reached a decision,’ I said eventually. ‘After all, he has to keep thinking and acting like an S.M.O.’
She was silent for several seconds. Then she nodded. ‘I know. That’s what must make it all so tough for him, poor darling. You probably won’t believe this, because you obviously think him completely inhuman, since you think him capable of getting someone chucked out of a hospital, but he must have spent the last thirty-six hours going round in circles trying to find some way out for you. Fate seems to have fixed things for him. The most arbitrary S.M.O. could scarcely be accused of allowing his authority to be weakened, because he chose not to report a nurse who followed up her misdemeanours by saving his life! Roughly speaking one might be said to cancel the other out.’
‘But I didn’t save his life.’
‘Don’t ask me to judge, Maggie. I wasn’t there, and I’m not a doctor or a nurse. I’m only repeating what he told me. He ought to know, since knowing is his job. So stop worrying. I promise you, you’ve no need.’ She slid off the end of my bed. ‘I must go and tell your mother you’re awake. She’s got a combined lunch and tea tray waiting for you in the kitchen.’ She limped to the door. ‘Don’t have too many dark thoughts about Uncle Jock,’ she added without turning my way. ‘I can guess how you feel about him, but honestly, he’s not really at all like your thoughts. He only looks as if he’s carved out of granite.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Off the record, he isn’t.’
The Night Home was silent as the pale afternoon sunlight faded into the early dusk, and the hands of my bedside clock seemed to stand still. Elsie’s brisk knock a couple of hours later was a welcome relief. ‘Wake up, Nurse!’ She switched on the light. ‘Nurse, you’re wide awake! What’s come over you? Not feeling poorly, too?’
‘I just woke early,’ I explained quite truthfully. The prospect of tonight in the Wing had woken me at six this morning. ‘Why too? Who is sick?’
‘Poor Nurse Ealey has the ’flu. Home Sister took her across to Nightingale this afternoon and real poorly she seemed.’
‘What rotten luck for Nurse Ealey,’ I said, feeling very sorry Jo had ’flu, but greatly relieved to know I was not going to have to avoid her sharp eyes during these next few nights.
Elsie was half out of the door when she bounced back. ‘There now!’ She pulled an envelope from her apron bib. ‘If I wasn’t nearly forgetting that Mr. Thanet asked me to give you this!’
I read George’s letter eagerly, directly she left me. Avis had telephoned home again last evening and we had a long talk. I wanted to see if George was as happy as she had been. He was. His letter was bubbling over with joy and very generous gratitude for the help I had given him with Avis and that night in the clinical-room.
‘This is also to let you know I’ll be away until Avis can get back,’ his letter went on. ‘The Dean has given me leave to assist my fiancée. Mike is taking over with the show pro tem and will be contacting you. He’ll need your help ‒ I know he’ll get it. You won’t let the chaps slack off. Any girl who can cope as you did with old Jock can manage the entire Medical School without batting an eyelid. Nice work, there, love. Jock’s a good man even if he does have strong views on smart exits from windows. We’re glad you were around. Thanks again, and love, George.’
Now that I was going to see Dr. Cameron again so soon, I felt hollow with nervousness. I longed to see him, yet the thought of Standing nagged like a toothache. She was in the Wing changing-room when I arrived on-duty. ‘Hallo, Blakney. Made up all your lost sleep?’
‘Yes, thanks, Nurse.’ I hung up my cloak and thanked her for her telephone call. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here last night.’
‘It was out of your hands,’ she replied coolly, and told me about last night and our post-operative patients. She did not mention Dr. Cameron, nor ask anything about his accident; or if Fiona had settled down. The junior table at supper had besieged me with questions, but Nurse Standing behaved as if I was returning from a routine nights-off to a routine night in the Wing.
I watched her covertly as Sister Wing began the report. Her control was amazing. His accident must have been a terrible shock to her; she could not fail to be as anxious as I was to hear Sister Wing’s report on him but no trace of that anxiety was visible in her serene face.
Fiona had said her uncle was in Room Seven. Sister Wing discussed old Miss Carter in Room Six with what seemed to me to be agonising slowness, then glanced at her report book. ‘Room Seven.’ She looked up. ‘An admission. John Rushton; age forty-six; admitted as a General Ward Emergency at four p.m., with acute appendicitis.’
They discussed our new patient for the next five minutes then Sister went on to Room Eight. Standing’s attitude made me sure Fiona had got hold of the wrong room number ‒ until the report was over.
I set the kitchen in a complete daze. I could not understand what had happened to Dr Cameron. Standing came in
for some ice. ‘I’m going to take down Mr. Hanner’s drip and re-do his dressing. If any of the men arrive for early rounds, let me know.’
‘Yes, Nurse.’ And then I simply had to ask, ‘Is the S.M.O. back on duty, Nurse Standing?’
‘With one arm in a sling? Really, Blakney, what an absurd question!’ There was a touch of her old impatience in her voice. ‘As if he would be allowed to work tonight, when he only went back to his room this morning, and won’t have his stitches out for another week.’
We were only moderately busy that night, but when the morning arrived I was much wearier than I had been after many really hectic nights. I felt utterly dejected as well as exhausted. The crushing disappointment of not finding Dr. Cameron in the Wing had shown me more clearly than anything else how much I loved him. All I really wanted was to be with him. But he was back in his own room, his own world. When next we met he would be on-duty, and hospital etiquette and tradition would combine to keep us in our separate worlds.
I meant to fall into bed directly after breakfast, but when I reached our floor, a very sociable and rowdy breakfast party was going on in my next-door-neighbour’s room. She banged on the wall. ‘Come and join us, Maggie! We missed the low-down you gave the girls at supper last night, and are just aching for the details!’
I just could not face any more questions. ‘Terribly sorry, Angela,’ I yelled back. ‘I’ve got to go out! I’ll tell you some other time.’
I went for a long walk in the nearest public park. It was a bitter morning, grey and raining fitfully. The weather did not bother me at all. My thoughts were far colder than the rain. It was after eleven when I returned and found a dictated telephone message from Mike Oxford waiting for me.
Home Sister pursed her lips when I asked permission to get up for a rehearsal at five-thirty. ‘You should have gone to bed earlier, Nurse. You may get up at six, for this once. In future, if you wish to rehearse in the evening before duty, you must be in bed by ten.’
A Ward Door Opens: A touching 1950s hospital romance (The Anniversary Collection Book 7) Page 14