Saturday's Child. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ our big hospitals and very well known. I feel that his opinion will be invaluable. It would be a pity for our patient to undergo an operation unless it is absolutely necessary. If we can get her well enough, she would much prefer that she should return to the United States with all speed. You are prepared to stay here until she returns, I hope?’

      Abigail said that yes, she was. ‘What have they in mind?’ she wanted to know. ‘A gastrostomy? Surely if it’s a bad ulcer they’ll have to do an end-to-end anastimosis.’

      Dr Vincent eyed her warily. ‘I think, Nurse, that we must leave such things for Professor van Wijkelen to decide.’

      With a name like that, Abigail thought flippantly, a man ought to be able to decide anything. He would have a beard and begin all his remarks with -er. She would probably dislike him. Dr Vincent was speaking again, so she listened carefully to his instructions and forgot about the professor.

      He came that evening, an hour or so after her patient had had another glass of milk and water with its attendant powder, and Abigail herself had had a short break for her own tea. Mr and Mrs Goldberg were out, and it had been brought to her on a tray in the sitting room. It had been pleasant to sit down for a little while on her own, while she had it, and then have the time to tidy herself, powder her ordinary nose and put on more lipstick. The results weren’t very encouraging, she considered, looking in the bedroom mirror. She had gone back to her patient’s room and taken her temperature and pulse, and sat her up more comfortably against her pillows, and was on a chair in her stockinged feet, reaching for a vase of flowers which someone had placed out of reach, and which, for some reason, Mrs Morgan had taken exception to, when there was a knock on the door and Doctor Vincent came in. The man who came in with him eclipsed him completely. He was a giant of a man, with a large frame which radiated energy despite the extreme leisureliness of his movements. He was handsome too, with pale hair, thickly silvered at the temples, a high-bridged nose and a well-shaped, determined mouth. His expression was one of cold ill-humour, and when he glanced up at her, still poised ridiculously on the chair, Abigail saw that his eyes were blue. It struck her with something of a shock that they were regarding her with dislike.

      She got down off the chair, the flowers clutched in one hand, hastily put them down on one of the little tables which cluttered the room, crammed her feet into her shoes and reached the bedside at the same time as the two men. Doctor Vincent introduced the professor, adding a corollary of his talents, and Mrs Morgan, suddenly interested, shook hands. ‘And our nurse,’ went on Doctor Vincent, ‘arrived from England today and is already, I see, attending to the patient’s comfort. Miss Trent, this is Professor van Wijkelen, of whom I spoke.’

      She held out her hand and he shook it perfunctorily and said nothing, only looked at her again with the same cold dislike, before sitting on the side of Mrs Morgan’s bed and saying, ‘Now, Mrs Morgan, will you tell me all your troubles, and perhaps Doctor Vincent and I can help you to get well again.’

      His voice was charming, deep and quiet and compelling, and Mrs Morgan was nothing loath. Her recital, with various deflections concerning her own personal courage in the face of grave illness, her fears for the loss of her good looks and the fact that she had been twice widowed, took a long time. The professor sat quietly, not interrupting her at all, his eyes upon her face while she talked. He seemed completely absorbed and so, to his credit, did Doctor Vincent, who, Abigail guessed, must have heard the tale at least once already. She herself stood quietly by the bed, a well-trained mouse of a girl, her eyes, too, on her patient, although she would very much have preferred to fix them upon the professor.

      Mrs Morgan finished at length and the professor said, ‘Quite, Mrs Morgan,’ and went on to ask her several questions. Finally, when he was satisfied with the answers, he turned to Abigail and asked her to prepare Mrs Morgan for his examination. He asked courteously in a voice of ice; Abigail wondered what had happened to sour him and take all the warmth from his voice as she bent to the task of getting Mrs Morgan modestly uncovered while the two men retired to the window and muttered together in their own language.

      ‘He’s ducky,’ whispered Mrs Morgan, and then sharply, ‘Don’t disarrange my hair, honey!’

      She lay back, looking, to speak the truth, gorgeous. Abigail, obedient to her patient’s wish, had been careful of the hair; she had also arranged her patient’s wispy trifle of a bedjacket to its greatest advantage. Now she stood back and said briskly, ‘Ready when you are, sir,’ and watched while the professor conducted his examination. He prodded and poked gently with his large, square hands while he gazed in an abstracted fashion at the wall before him. At length, when he had finished and Abigail had rearranged Mrs Morgan, he said: ‘I think that there will be no need for an operation, but to be quite sure there are several tests which it will be necessary to do, and I am afraid that they must be done in hospital.’ He paused to allow Mrs Morgan to pull a pretty little face and exclaim:

      ‘Oh, no, Professor—I was so utterly miserable when I was there just a week ago, that’s why I engaged Nurse Trent here.’

      ‘In that case, may I suggest that you take her with you to hospital? She can attend you during the day and I am sure that we shall be able to find an English-speaking nurse for night duty. I should suppose that three or four days should be sufficient, then you can return here to await the result of the tests. If they are satisfactory, a week or so should suffice to see you on your feet again and well enough to return home.’

      ‘If you say so, Professor,’ Mrs Morgan’s voice was just sufficiently plaintive, ‘though I’m sure I don’t know how I shall get on in that hospital of yours. Still, as you say, if I take Nurse with me, I daresay I’ll be able to bear a few days.’

      She smiled at him after this somewhat frank speech, but he didn’t smile in return, merely inclined his head gravely and offered his hand.

      ‘You’ll come and see me again, Professor?’ Mrs Morgan was still smiling. ‘I sure feel better already, you’ve a most reassuring way with you.’

      If the professor was flattered by this remark he gave no sign. ‘Thank you, Mrs Morgan. I think that there is no necessity to see you again until you enter hospital. I will arrange that as soon as possible and you will of course see me there.’

      ‘I look forward to that—and be sure that I have a private room. I’m so sensitive, I can’t bear the sights and sounds of hospital, Professor.’

      He walked to the door and then turned to face her with Doctor Vincent beside him. ‘I feel sure that Doctor Vincent will arrange everything to your liking, Mrs Morgan, and you will have your nurse to shield you from the—er—sights and sounds you so much dread.’ His smile was fleeting and reluctant, a concession to good manners, and it didn’t last long enough to include Abigail. He nodded curtly to her as he went away.

      Surprisingly, he came the following day, late in the afternoon when Abigail had returned from her few hours off and was sitting with her patient, reading the New York Herald Tribune to her. She read very nicely in her quiet voice, sitting upright in a truly hideous reproduction Morris chair. She had enjoyed her afternoon off, and wished that her patient lived in one of the old houses beside the canals, because she would have dearly loved to see inside one of them. The flat in the Apollolaan was comfortable to the point of luxury, but all the same, she wouldn’t have liked to live in it for ever, but the brick houses with their gabled roofs reflected in the still waters of the grachten—they were a different matter; it would be wonderful to live in their serene fastness.

      The morning had been successful too; Mrs Morgan seemed to like her, for she had chatted animatedly while Abigail performed the daily nursing chores, talking at great length about Professor van Wijkelen. ‘A darling man, Nurse,’ she mused. ‘I must find out more about him—such good looks and such СКАЧАТЬ