At the End of the Day. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ to dance well, but probably she was quite super at it. There would be a mother’s help or an au pair to look after the other children, of course, although surely with a Rolls Royce, the professor would be able to afford a Norland Nanny? She frowned; he wasn’t all that young, the boy he had seen off to school that morning could have been the youngest child, the others would be teenagers…

      She got up and put the kitten back on the scarf. It was asleep again but she addressed it none the less; it was nice to have something to talk to. ‘I’m getting soft in the head,’ she observed, ‘sitting here doing nothing and thinking a load of nonsense. I shall go to bed.’

      Which she did, to be joined presently by the kitten, who climbed laboriously on to the duvet and settled up against her.

      She was up earlier than usual the next morning, so that she had time for a more leisurely breakfast before attending to the kitten’s wants and going on duty. The storm had left the streets fresh and revived the dusty shrubs and trees along the street. Being a Sunday, there was no one to be seen, even the main street, usually bustling with traffic by half-past seven, was deserted. Julia made her way up to the ward to be met by the night staff nurse with the news that Professor van der Wagema was on the ward.

      ‘In that case, I’ll just see what he wants,’ said Julia. Dick Reed had a weekend and perhaps there had been an admission during the night. She hung up her cape and asked the staff nurse.

      ‘No, Sister—it’s Mrs Collins—Peter Miller ‘phoned the professor and he came in. Peter came to see her about six o’clock because I asked him to. She opened her eyes and grunted.’

      ‘Good work, Staff. I’ll be back in a minute.’

      She went down the ward, wishing her patients good morning as she went, and slipped behind Mrs Collins’ curtains. The professor, in slacks and a sports shirt and not looking in the least like a professor, was sitting on the end of the bed, writing Mrs Collins’ notes. He looked human as he sat there, so that Julia said, ‘Good morning, sir,’ with a good deal more warmth than normal. ‘Is there anything you want?’ she added.

      He raised his eyes from his notes and she was struck by their cold darkness. ‘Thank you, no, Sister. Only to be left in peace. If I need anything or anyone, I will say so.’

      There was absolutely no answer to that, although she could think of several remarks she longed to make. With a surge of annoyance she went back down the ward. Had he really called her Julia and given her coffee and driven her around in his beautiful Rolls? She must have dreamt the lot.

      She took the report and sent the night nurses off duty and went back into the ward to check on the breakfasts. There would be a part time staff nurse on duty at nine o’clock and she had Nurse Wells, who was sensible anyway, as well as two student nurses. Leaving Nurse Wells in the ward she gave a quick report and sent them back to start on the morning’s chores before running through the report once more with Nurse Wells. It being Sunday there was less paperwork; no laundry to argue with, no Path Lab to make appointments with. She tidied her desk and went into the ward to help with the beds and presently, the treatments. It was almost an hour before the professor came down the ward. Julia, in the middle of an argument with an elderly heart patient who could see no good reason for getting out of her bed, was interrupted by his: ‘A word with you, if you please, Sister.’

      She beckoned the staff nurse to take her place and walked with him to her office. Inside he waved her to her chair at the desk and sat down himself on the radiator. ‘Coffee?’ he enquired.

      Julia, about to sit, got up again and crossed over to the kitchen where luckily Meg had the coffee ready. She bore the tray back with, her set it on the desk and sat herself down again, and since the professor had nothing to say she poured it out and handed him a cup.

      ‘I’ve had no breakfast,’ he observed, and as she remained silent, ‘Not that it is any concern of yours, Sister.’

      ‘None at all, sir. You wished to tell me something?’

      His dark eyes gleamed beneath their lids. ‘Yes. But there is another matter. Mrs Collins roused sufficiently to tell me something of herself. I have the details here, they may not be accurate; it has taken me all of two hours to get them—she still has periods of unconsciousness. I’d be glad if you will get on to the police and do everything necessary. I shall want an accurate report of her periods of consciousness. Anything out of the normal run of things I wish to know at once. You have my ‘phone number.’

      Julia sipped her coffee. ‘Yes, I have. Four hourly TPR, and blood pressure?’

      ‘Yes.’ He passed his cup and she refilled it. He asked abruptly: ‘You have heard from Longman?’

      She hadn’t expected that and she was betrayed into saying no, before she said yes. At his raised eyebrows she added lamely, ‘I ‘phoned last night. He’s got the post.’

      ‘Yes. He seemed pleased…’

      ‘He ‘phoned you?’ she asked in surprise.

      ‘No—I happened to be with Doctor Lamborne when he rang him.’

      He finished his coffee and stood up. ‘I suppose we shall be losing you very shortly.’

      Her green eyes glinted. ‘You will find Staff Nurse Down will make an excellent sister.’

      ‘I shall look forward to that,’ he told her blandly as he went.

      She had no time for anything but the ward for the rest of the day; the police came and so, after lunch, did the visitors and treatments and medicines had to be fitted in despite these interruptions. She went off duty late but satisfied; the police had unearthed a niece of Mrs Collins who would come the next day. She had sounded pleasant enough on the ‘phone and seemed concerned enough about her aunt. And Mrs Collins had gone steadily ahead. Julia shaking the dust of twenty-four patients from her feet went thankfully back to her flat, where the kitten, looking more like a kitten now, greeted her with pleasure, ate supper and curled up again on its scarf, while Julia showered and got into a cotton dress and cooked her own supper. Tomorrow evening she and Nigel would go out for a meal but just now she was content to spend a quiet evening and if she had half hoped that he would ring her she ignored the thought. He would be back sometime that evening, but he had warned her that it might be in the early hours of the morning. She read the Sunday papers, and paused every now and then to mull over the memory which nagged like a sore tooth; the professor was looking forward to someone else in her place, he couldn’t wait for her to go. She felt unreasonably hurt about that. Thank heaven that Nigel had got the job; they could have a quiet wedding soon, he would need only a couple of months to settle in and even if they had to find a flat outside the hospital, it shouldn’t take all that long; anything would do for a start, they would only be renting it and they could move if it didn’t suit them. She sat weaving plans for the future and presently, accompanied by the kitten, went to bed.

      It was the professor’s round in the morning. She greeted him in a cool, wooden voice, agreed that Mrs Collins’ troubles seemed to be almost over, discussed Mrs Winter’s unfortunate habit of ignoring her diet, filled in a number of X-Ray forms and Path Lab requests and finally ushered her party out of the ward, where the lesser fry went about their business and the professor and Dick Reed went into her office where they continued their discussions and drank several cups of coffee while Julia sat between them, passing the biscuit tin to and fro and making notes obediently when told to do so. When finally they got to their feet the professor said: ‘Go on ahead will you, Dick?’ He glanced at his watch, ‘Sister Sedgewick will be expecting us—I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes.’

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