A Girl Named Rose. Бетти Нилс

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      “And you don’t?”

      “Oh, yes, of course.” Rose remembered his opinion of her and went a delicate pink and Christina gave her a second look. “He’s not very easy to know,” she said casually, “plenty of girl friends when he has the time for them, but no sign of getting married. Did he fall for your friend Sadie?”

      “Well, I think he might have done if they had seen more of each other.”

      “I am glad it’s you…may I call you Rose? I think you are the sort of person who won’t get impatient if I burst into tears or have sudden hysterics.”

      “Indeed I won’t.” Rose got up and eased the small body gently from one side to the other, took the pulse in the flaccid wrist, charted it and sat down again. A tray of tea was brought in then and Rose was asked to pour out.

      “This is fun,” said Christina ter Brandt, taking her cup. “We’ve heaps of friends but I haven’t wanted to see any of them since—since…” She took a sip of tea. “But it’s great to be able to sit here with Duert and have someone to talk to who understands what’s happened to him.”

      In a little while Dr ter Brandt came back, took another look at his little son, passed a gentle time of day with Rose and took his wife away.

      They met Sybren in the corridor. “She’s a darling,” said Christina to him. “Do you know I feel quite different now she is here. She’s so sure he’s going to get better and so—so sensible and kind. When Duert is well enough to come home, she must come too, just for a bit,” and at his look of doubt, “don’t say it can’t be done because between the pair of you, you can do anything you’ve set your heart on.” She looked at her husband. “Duert, dear, please…”

      He had an arm round her shoulders. “Provided Rose will agree, we’ll get her by hook or by crook.” He looked at his friend. “Well, what do you say, Sybren?”

      “She is a good nurse and if you want her, we’ll arrange things.”

      Christina said thoughtfully, “Would you rather have had her friend—what was her name—Sadie? Very pretty, Rose tells me. And a good nurse too.”

      He smiled down at her. “Very pretty, but I don’t think we could better our Rose; unflappable and sensible and somehow slides into place without any fuss.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “We’ll have good news for you, Chrissy, just be patient.”

      Rose was patient too; perhaps the small child’s life depended on her regular frequent observations, the careful taking of pulse, checking the slow breathing, the level of consciousness. She was relieved for her meals but that was all, but she had known that already; when she went off duty in the evening she had her supper and then went for a brisk walk, sometimes by herself, more often with one or other of the nurses. They were friendly girls but she had little time to get to know them. Wiebeke she saw morning and evening, but beyond giving each other the report they wasted no time. Little Duert’s life depended on constant observation until he regained consciousness and they both knew it. For the next few days nothing else mattered.

      Christina ter Brandt came each day to sit by her little son’s cot and hold his hand while she talked to Rose. That she was happily married was evident, just as it was evident that she was whole-heartedly loved. Rose, after a few days, found herself liking her very much, just as she liked Dr ter Brandt. Two people such as they were deserved a miracle.

      Mr Werdmer ter Sane came twice a day to study the charts carefully and examine his small patient. He had little to say to Rose although he was always pleasant and careful to enquire as to her welfare, enquiries she brushed aside just as pleasantly. She was beginning to feel the lack of exercise and change of scene but she had no intention of saying so.

      It was on the fourth day, half way through the morning, that she noticed the faintest of movements and the little boy’s breathing changed slightly from slow and shallow to a steadier rhythm. She went to the phone in a flash and asked for Mr Werdmer ter Sane to come at once, and then whisked back to the cotside, taking another look before ringing Sister’s office. Only there was no one there to answer. Rose went back to the cot, took down the side and perched close to the small form. It seemed to her that the level of unconsciousness was lighter even in those few minutes. She stroked the little hand she was holding and began to sing very softly: nursery rhymes, one after the other, and was rewarded by the flicker of an eyelid. When the door opened and Mr Werdmer ter Sane came quietly in, she flapped a hand at him and went on singing “Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle”. She had a small high voice a little breathless now with excitement. “The cow jumped over the moon,” she went on, aware that he was standing behind her.

      The cherub in the cot opened two astonishingly blue eyes, said sleepily “lickle dog”, and closed them again.

      “Oh, my goodness me,” said Rose in a whisper. She took the large hand on the counterpane beside her and gave it a squeeze, quite unaware of what she was doing. But only for a moment; she dropped it like a hot brick and stood up, to recite very accurately exactly what had occurred.

      Mr Werdmer ter Sane grunted and bent over the little boy who stirred under his gentle touch and then opened his eyes again. He said something in Dutch and straightened to his great height again. “I do believe we’re coming out of the wood, Rose.”

      Very much to her surprise he bent and kissed her cheek. “Good girl.” He went to the phone and made several calls and very soon Sister was there as well as his registrar. The three of them talked quietly and then the two men examined the child very gently. Rose stood a little apart. Sister was there, handling things and dealing with their needs and there was nothing for her to do. Sister and the registrar went presently and Mr Werdmer ter Sane asked her to stay by the cot while he phoned and then presently he gave her careful instructions and went away too.

      There was little enough to do; only watch carefully and carry out the usual nursing chores. It was half an hour later that he came back and this time he had the ter Brandts with him.

      Rose didn’t say anything; indeed they weren’t aware of anyone else except the little boy in the cot. She slid away to the desk at the window and turned her back and was surprised when Mr Werdmer ter Sane joined her.

      There wasn’t anything much to see; a variety of gabled roofs and an enormous number of chimney pots and above them, a wide pale blue sky. She stared out at them and wished she could think of something to say and presently he went away again without having uttered a word, back to the cot at the other side of the room and now it was Christina beside her.

      “Rose, oh Rose, you don’t know how happy I am. Oh, my dear, we’re so grateful and thankful.” She turned a tear-stained face to her. “We’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

      “But I haven’t done anything,” said Rose, feeling awkward.

      “Oh, yes, you have. You’d made up your mind that little Duert was going to get better and you’ve had no off-duty and you’ve had your eyes on him all the time. That was clever, singing the nursery rhymes. Sybren says he’s not out of the wood yet but it’s time and careful nursing. You’ll stay, won’t you? I can’t nurse him myself, but I know he is safe with you.”

      “Of course, I’ll stay. I am so happy for you and your husband, you must be in the seventh heaven. And I’ll take great care of him, I promise you, and Wiebeke is wonderful, you know. You’ll be able to sleep at night now.”

      “Yes, oh yes.” Christina looked up at her husband who had СКАЧАТЬ