A Girl in a Million. Betty Neels

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘and keep your head.’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’s time for observations, so I’ll leave you to get on with it.’ She cast an eye over the small boy in the bed, his head swathed in bandages, his person attached to various tubes. ‘Someone will bring you some coffee,’ she added kindly as she went.

      Caroline did everything that was necessary, examined the little white face anxiously and took the chair by the bed. The nurse she had relieved had written ‘No change’ on the chart and with one eye on the child she read the notes on his board. Mr Spence had written a great deal and it took her some time to decipher his writing. Mr van Houben had written a whole lot too. It took her even longer to read, since his writing was so illegible that it could have been in Greek or Sanskrit.

      She had just finished her second round of observations when Mr Spence and Mr van Houben came in. They both wished her good morning as she got to her feet and handed over the chart. As she did so, she realised something which she had known subconsciously when she had first studied the chart. Marc’s surname was van Houben. Mr van Houben’s son? If it were so, where was his mother? She had her answer quicker than she had expected.

      ‘Marc’s mother will be here shortly,’ said Mr van Houben. ‘She will stay only briefly—remain with Marc while she is here. She is likely to be upset.’ He smiled briefly from a grim face and turned to Mr Spence. ‘Would it be a good idea if…?’ He launched into technicalities and Caroline sat down again to keep watch. They thanked her as they went away. It invariably surprised her that the senior men were always civil—with the exception of Mr Wilkins—whereas some of the housemen tended to throw their weight around, wanting this and that and the other thing on the wards, leaving messes to be cleared up.

      She was relieved at noon and there was no sign of Marc’s mother. She was sent to first dinner and over the cottage pie and spring cabbage she regaled her friends at the table with her morning’s work.

      ‘At least it gave your feet a rest,’ said someone.

      ‘Yes, but I was so afraid something awful might happen—he’s been unconscious ever since he hurt himself and the operation took hours.’

      She bolted rhubarb and custard, drank a cup of tea far too hot and went back on the ward. It was time for the children to have their afternoon rest. Sister had gone to lunch, taking all but the nurse specialling Marc with her, leaving Staff and Caroline to the task of seeing to the children who were up and enticing them into their beds and then going around making comfortable those who were bedridden.

      ‘Marc’s mother came,’ said Staff. ‘Mr van Houben came with her, of course.’

      Caroline said, ‘She must be terribly upset.’

      ‘She was—she’s expecting a baby in a week’s time. She came over from Holland. She’s beautiful—you know—fair hair and blue eyes and the most gorgeous clothes.’

      Caroline didn’t want to hear about her—of course she would be beautiful, Mr van Houben wouldn’t have married a girl less than perfection. ‘Is Marc the only one? Other than the baby?’

      She lifted out a small sleepy toddler while Staff put in a clean sheet.

      ‘Yes. Mr Spence seems to think that Marc will live but the thing is if he’s going to come out of this coma. He may have to operate again.’

      ‘Oh, the poor little boy.’ She kissed the top of the baby’s head; he had a cleft palate and a hare lip but Mr Spence would see to those in a day or two. She put him gently back into his cot and tucked him in.

      Staff said, ‘You like kids, don’t you?’

      Caroline was at the next cot, changing a nappy. ‘Yes.’

      Staff was feeling chatty. ‘Sister says you’re a natural—I dare say you’ll end up with a ward full of children and make it your life’s work.’

      ‘Yes,’ said Caroline again. She did like children, but she would prefer to have her own; vague thoughts of a charming house in the country with dogs and cats and a donkey and, of course, children filled her mind. She would need a husband, of course. Mr van Houben’s rather frosty features swam before her eyes and she said, ‘Oh, dear, that won’t do at all,’ so that Staff looked at her and observed kindly,

      ‘Well, there’s always the chance that you’ll marry.’

      She was to special little Marc each morning for the foreseeable future. Sister rambled on rather about his subconscious getting used to the same person by his bedside, so that the three of them shared the twenty-four hours between them. It was towards the end of her eight-hour stint that Mr van Houben came again, and this time with Marc’s mother.

      Staff hadn’t exaggerated. Marc’s mother was lovely despite the fact that she was desperately worried and pale with anxiety. She stood by the little bed, staring down at the small face, and Mr van Houben put an arm round her shoulders.

      Mr Spence came in then and the two men conferred quietly and Caroline said, ‘Sit down for a minute and hold his hand…’

      His mother lifted unhappy blue eyes to hers. ‘He does not know?’

      ‘Well, we don’t know, do we?! I hold it all the time unless I’m doing things for him.’

      His mother smiled then. ‘You’re very nice,’ she said, and they sat silently until the men had finished their talk, checked the charts and the three of them had gone away. Caroline sat down again and picked up the limp little paw and held it firmly. It was a way of communication—that was, if communication was possible.

      Several days went by and each morning Mr van Houben and Marc’s mother came to see him until one morning Mr van Houben arrived early by himself. His, ‘Good morning, Nurse,’ was curt and he looked as if he had been up all night. If she had known him better she would have told him to go home to bed.

      ‘Well, Marc has a little sister.’ He stared down at the inert little figure in the bed and Caroline said, ‘Oh, you must be delighted. Congratulations, sir.’

      He turned his head to look at her. He looked as though he was going to speak but he only smiled slightly, made sure that Marc’s condition was unchanged and went away. He came back with Mr Spence just as she had handed over to her relief, but since there was no reason for her to remain she went away to eat a late lunch in the empty canteen. The boiled cod and white sauce, boiled potatoes and carrots, edible in company and when freshly cooked, had rather lost their appeal. She ate the apple crumble which followed, coaxed a pot of tea from the impatient girl behind the counter and then went to her room and changed into outdoor things—she was off duty until five o’clock and a brisk walk would do her good. She took a bus to Victoria Park and marched along its paths, in no mood to admire the first of the spring flowers braving the chilly day. She had no idea why she was feeling so edgy; perhaps she was hungry or just a little homesick for Aunt Meg’s cosy little house—or was she just anxious about Marc, who was making no progress at all. Walking back presently to catch her bus back to the hospital, she admitted to herself that it wasn’t any of these things—it was Mr van Houben’s smile when she had congratulated him. It had been faintly mocking, slightly amused, as though she had made a bad joke. Sitting squashed between two stout women with bulging shopping bags, Caroline told herself to stop thinking about him, that there was no point in doing so, and when presently, as she was crossing the forecourt to the hospital entrance, he went past her, on his way to the consultant’s car park, she glared at him so ferociously that he paused and turned to look at her small person; even from the back she looked cross.

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