A Secret Infatuation. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ thought twice before displeasing her. But the surgeons loved her for she was utterly dependable.

      Eugenie liked her too; they had always got on well once they had each other’s measure and she found that Eugenie wasn’t in the least scared of her sharp tongue and, when called upon, could work almost as well.

      She was bidden to sit down while Sister Cross gave her a brief resumé of the week’s work ahead. ‘We have a visiting consultant—Mr Rijnma ter Salis—Dutch—a first-class surgeon, specialises in cardiac cases. Over here at Mr Pepper’s invitation to demonstrate a new technique with valve replacements. Here for a couple of weeks then goes to Edinburgh and Birmingham. Very civil and easy to work for.’

      Eugenie debated to herself whether she should tell Sister Cross that she had already met him, and decided that she had better do so.

      Sister Cross heard her out, said, ‘Hm,’ and told her to go and check the second theatre where a staff nurse would be getting ready for a succession of minor ops.

      There was a heavy list, starting with a heart valve bypass ‘And you might as well scrub,’ said Sister Cross. ‘The quicker you get back into the routine the better.’

      So Eugenie scrubbed and took the case for Mr Rijnma ter Salis, who treated her with an aloof politeness which she found deflating to her feelings. She hadn’t expected him to be overwhelmingly friendly, but on the other hand he had no need to hold her at arm’s length with that icy courtesy …

      She need not have worried about being thrown in at the deep end. He was unhurried and unworried as he worked, his massive person bent over the small boy on the operating table, patiently cutting and stitching, so calm that Eugenie, who had been doubtful as to her capabilities, settled down without a single pang of doubt about them. In fact, after the first few minutes, she began to enjoy herself—she had always liked theatre work and it was reassuring to find that she hadn’t forgotten any of her old skills.

      The operation wasn’t straightforward, taking more time than expected, so that the list, scheduled to finish sometime after midday, was running late. Mr Rijnma ter Salis finished at last, thanked Eugenie politely, stripped off his gloves, stood while the nurse stretched up to untie the strings of his gown, and went away, then Mr Pepper took over for pacemakers and a cardiac catheterisation. She went away to a very late dinner and the afternoon was taken up by an appendicectomy and a strangulated hernia. By six o’clock she was more than ready to go off duty, hardly cheered by the reminder from Sister Cross that she would be on call for the night. ‘Shortage of staff and holidays,’ said that lady. ‘The night staff nurse for Theatre is capable of taking any routine case; you will only be called for something she might not be able to manage.’

      Eugenie spent the evening writing home, gossiping with her friends, and wondering where Mr Rijnma ter Salis had gone. She went to bed presently feeling vaguely ill done by, although when she thought about it she had no reason to be.

      At two o’clock in the morning she was shaken awake by an urgent hand. ‘There’s a gunshot wound, Sister, pellets in the heart. Can you be in Theatre in ten minutes? Staffs getting ready.’

      The student nurse had switched on the bedside light and put a mug of tea beside it. ‘You’re wide awake?’

      Eugenie got out of bed. ‘I will be by the time I get to Theatre. Thanks for the tea, Nurse.’

      She dressed within minutes, bundling her abundant hair into an untidy and ruthlessly pinned knot and cramming her cap on top of it. She swallowed the tea, turned out the light and went quietly through the nurses’ home and into the hospital. It was very quiet, the time of night when most of the patients were sleeping. Only the faint metallic sounds of bedpans being fetched, cups and saucers being arranged in the kitchens and the tread of quiet feet could be identified. She reached the theatre wing and went through the swing doors to be met by the night staff nurse, looking relieved. ‘He’s here already,’ she said. ‘I’ve put everything I could think of out, Sister.’

      ‘Good. The patient isn’t up yet?’

      ‘No. Will you scrub now, Sister?’

      ‘Yes. Have IC been warned?’

      ‘Yes, Sister. Will you be able to manage, just the two of us? Night Sister says she is short-handed …’

      ‘Then we’ll manage.’ She smiled reassuringly and went down the corridor to scrub. As she passed Sister’s office she was halted.

      ‘Sister Spencer, a moment please.’

      Mr Rijnma ter Salis was sitting at the desk, already in his theatre smock and trousers. He looked up as she went in. ‘Sorry to get you out of bed. A lad in a street fight, took the full blast from a shotgun in the chest. There are pellets in his heart—a wonder he’s still alive—I’ll do a median sternotomy. There are a couple of pellets embedded in the pericardium and at least one in the right ventricle. Mr Symes, the senior registrar, will be here in a moment and a couple of the housemen. I understand your technician has been sent for. Do you need more nurses?’

      ‘Night Sister left a message for me to say she’s short-handed. Staff Nurse is very competent. If the anaesthetist needs a nurse I’ll ask for one.’

      For answer he drew the phone towards him. ‘Run along,’ he told her, ‘and get scrubbed.’

      He appeared not to see the indignant look she cast at him. She ran along all the same. There was no time to speak her mind to him, but later … Run along, indeed! She emptied her head of resentment and went to scrub.

      In Theatre presently, sorting out her instruments, making sure that the elaborate equipment was ready with Keith, the technician, she discovered that there was a nurse for the anaesthetist and a senior student to help the staff nurse.

      Mr Rijnma ter Salis must have been turning on the charm. Even at two o’clock in the morning she had to admit that he had any amount of that; besides, she was in love with him. She stopped thinking about him then and got on with the business in hand.

      Time ceased to matter; she concentrated wholly on her work, aware that Mr Rijnma ter Salis was operating with complete confidence, deftly removing shot from the man’s heart and chest wall without any appearance of urgency. It was six o’clock by the time he was completely satisfied that the last foreign body had been removed and began his meticulous stitching up.

      That the man was still alive was a miracle, but he was young and had a strong body. It would be touch and go for a few days but his chances of recovery were good. He was borne away to IC, followed by the surgeons and the anaesthetist, and Eugenie and her crew began the task of clearing up. The day staff were coming on duty by the time they were finished.

      ‘You had better go to bed as soon as you’ve had your breakfast,’ said Sister Cross. ‘Come on duty at five o’clock and stay until Night Staff Nurse comes on duty.’

      Eugenie went off to the canteen, ate her breakfast, although she wasn’t awake enough to know what she was eating, and took herself off to a hot bath and bed. Tired though she was, she spared a thought for Mr Rijnma ter Salis. She hadn’t seen him once he had left the theatre with a polite word of thanks to her. It was unlikely that she would see him when she went on duty later. She hoped that he wasn’t too tired.

      One of her off-duty friends called her with a cup of tea just after four o’clock. She turned over in bed and closed her eyes again. ‘I’m too tired to go on duty,’ she muttered, and buried her head in her pillow.

      ‘No, СКАЧАТЬ