The Fortunes of Francesca. Бетти Нилс

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      ‘Which Rolls was it?’ asked Finn.

      ‘Well, it was a Rolls-Royce. Aren’t they all the same?’

      ‘Not by a long chalk. What’s his name, this professor?’

      ‘Van der Kettener—he’s Dutch. Perhaps that’s why he’s so testy…’

      Finn gave her an exasperated look. ‘You only had a lift with one of the best heart surgeons in Europe. He was mentioned in a lecture the other day, goes all over the place, operating and lecturing, but spends a lot of time here. He’s honorary consultant in several hospitals. Lives in Holland. You lucky girl.’

      Finn went back to his books and Auntie said mildly, ‘Well, that’s nice, isn’t it, love? Such a clever man, no doubt, and yet sparing time to bring you home.’

      ‘Pooh,’ said Franny. ‘With a car like that it couldn’t have been a bother. I don’t suppose he ever has to queue for a bus or get his own breakfast.’

      ‘You don’t like him, dear?’

      She thought about that. ‘I think I’m sorry for him. He was ever so—so remote. Perhaps he’s quite different at home, with his wife and children. I wonder if they come over here with him, or do they live in Holland?’

      She glanced at the clock. ‘Heavens, is that the time? I’ll get the supper. Macaroni cheese.’ She paused in the doorway. ‘I was going to make a cheese pudding, but the macaroni is quicker. Pay day tomorrow—I’ll get fish and chips.’

      Finn gave a satisfied grunt, but Auntie sighed for the days when things had been different. Not that she wasn’t grateful for this poky little house in the wrong part of London, and her pension and the company of Franny and Finn. She had been a widow when they had come to live with her, and they had just lost their parents.

      If only she hadn’t fallen ill and Franny hadn’t had to give up her nursing training to look after her and Finn. They had had plans for the future—Franny, once trained, would have found a post at some hospital in a country town, they would have lived in a small flat and managed very nicely, while Finn trained to be a doctor. With him living on his grant and any money Franny could spare, they would have made a success of things.

      As it was now, they were in a cleft stick. Their combined savings were at a low ebb and there was no hope of Franny going back to the hospital; she had had to find this job where she could also cope with the house, the shopping and the cooking. Auntie had been warned that her doing anything other than the lightest of tasks might have serious consequences.

      The house, which they all secretly hated, had been offered to her at a very low rent after her husband died, by his firm, and, since there had been nothing else to do, she had accepted the offer.

      Her husband, a scientist, had had a good job and they had lived pleasantly in a pretty little mews cottage in Islington. But he had been so absorbed in his work that mundane things such as life assurance or saving for a rainy day had been overlooked. Auntie had never blamed him for that—he had been a good husband—but she was thankful that they had had no children.

      She put down her knitting wool and went to the kitchen to lay the table for their meal. She didn’t feel very well, but there was enough for them to worry about without fussing over her. She said cheerfully, ‘Tell me more about this professor—he sounds interesting.’

      The next day, pay day, was the bright spot in Franny’s week. One of her duties was to go to the bank each week, collect the money for the wages and hand over the little envelopes to the staff. She hadn’t liked the idea of handing Barker’s wages over to him; she left his envelope on the desk in her little office. It was an old-fashioned way to be paid, money in an envelope, but somehow much more satisfying than a cheque. Feeling rich, she bought the fish and chips on the way home.

      They enjoyed their supper and Auntie went to bed early. ‘And don’t fuss,’ she begged Franny. ‘I’m only a little tired.’

      Franny skimmed around the kitchen, tidying it and putting everything ready for breakfast while Finn finished his studies and took himself off to his room. Once he had gone, she gave the sitting room a good clean. It was almost midnight when she went to bed and she slept at once.

      She woke suddenly a couple of hours later, aware that something had disturbed her. There was a faint sound coming from her aunt’s room. She got out of bed, crossed the narrow landing and opened the door.

      Auntie was lying in bed, her face grey with pain and beaded with sweat. Franny lifted her very gently onto her pillows, wiped her face with a handful of sheet and said quietly, ‘Lie quite still, Auntie. Finn will get the ambulance; you’ll be all right—just hang on. I’ll be back in a moment.’

      Finn, once roused, was out of bed at once, putting on his clothes.

      ‘Use the phone box at the end of the street,’ said Franny urgently. ‘Tell them it’s very urgent; hurry.’

      She went to her room, fetched her clothes and dressed in her aunt’s room, fearful of leaving her, praying that the ambulance would be quick.

      It was, and the paramedics were very competent. They wasted no time but loaded Auntie into the ambulance and Franny, leaving Finn in charge of the house, got in with them.

      They worked on Auntie as the ambulance sped through the quiet streets.

      ‘Where are we going?’ asked Franny.

      ‘No beds at St Thomas’s, nor Charing Cross or the Middlesex. There’s a bed at St Giles’.’

      It seemed for ever before they reached the hospital but, once there, there was speed and efficiency. Surprisingly, there were no other patients in Casualty. Having given particulars in a quiet voice, Franny was told to sit and wait while Auntie was wheeled away to a cubicle at the other end of the vast place. There was a lot of coming and going then, and she longed to know what was happening behind the curtains, but she sat still, her hands folded in her lap, staring at the wall before her, not seeing it, trying not to think.

      It was some time before a nurse came to tell her that her aunt was rallying under treatment. ‘Sister will come and speak to you in a minute. Would you like a cup of tea?’

      Franny shook her head. ‘No, thank you. It doesn’t matter if I stay?’

      ‘No, of course not. Here’s Sister coming now.’

      Sister was young and briskly kind. ‘Your aunt is improving, but until several tests have been done I can’t tell you any more. She will have to be admitted, but you would have known that. It is most fortunate that the senior consultant heart surgeon is in the hospital, seeing another patient. He’s on his way down now. If anyone can do anything for your aunt, it is he.’

      She went away again, and presently Franny heard fresh voices and then silence, except for a murmur from time to time. Please, God, let Auntie pull through, she begged silently. And she shut her mind to a future full of problems; never mind them, just as long as Auntie got better.

      Night work, thought Franny desperately. Finn would be home at least for the next few months; she could get a job, any job, which left her free during the day. She didn’t need much sleep; she could shop on the way home, settle Auntie and tidy up the house and have a sleep during the afternoon…

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