Sister Loving Heart, page 3
She heard herself saying, ‘I’d love it, of course, but two months is a long time. The hospital would never give me leave.’
‘They would if the right strings were pulled,’ and the very lovely dark eyes twinkled. ‘I’m a good surgeon, but a far better string-puller!’
He need not have told her that, his reputation was ‘game-and-set’ for it.
He said, ‘Guin is a naughty girl, her mother spoilt her. Lady Raikes is a sweetie, even if she has ruined Guin, but don’t think this will be all plain sailing. Guin should take it quietly, something she hates doing in life. The nurse who goes with her will have her hands full, because Guin fights for fun, and sees that she gets it.’
‘Maybe I … I would not be capable?’
‘Oh yes, you would! Guin is twenty, the excitable kind, and she has had a couple of setbacks which knocked it out of her. The last was a young duke, who took her out in his brand new car, there was a crash and both were hurt. It was entirely his fault though she won’t admit this. He then married her worst enemy, and she tried to have an affair with some ghastly Italian waiter. Now she wants to marry him. She wants a young nurse, and you are the goods.’
‘You really think that, if I got the leave, I could do it?’
‘That is the idea. Near her own age, and yet have your head screwed on the right way. You’ve been to Italy before?’
Maybe the wine helped her, for now she was inspired with the idea that she could do it.
‘You’ve been abroad before?’ he repeated.
She confessed, ‘Of course I haven’t. What do you suppose?’
He smiled, ‘Tell me about yourself.’
She told him of her early life with Daddy, the illness which had stopped her being a doctor like he was, and her becoming just a nurse. Financial difficulties, the hard work and then after all her father had died before she qualified. She could not keep up with the times, for she was not modern. ‘Maybe I’m left by the tide,’ she said.
‘That happens to lots today, but you have a grand career, it does a lot of good, and that’s satisfying.’
The Chicken Maryland arrived, and it looked superb served with asparagus.
Then he went on telling her about the job which was to be hers. ‘Lady Raikes got hold of this funny little castle with a bad name. It is one of those Italian villages not yet discovered, which helps. The castle is called the Castello Punta Verde. There would not be a lot of work there, but your patient is a bit self-willed.’
‘That happens to most patients,’ she said, and then, ‘It … it worries me as to whether my plain clothes would be suitable.’
‘I know,’ he said, ‘and Lady Raikes was giving you something towards this. She thought maybe fifty pounds would be some small help?’
She stared at him almost dismayed. ‘Fifty pounds?’ she said, almost as if it could not be true.
There are moments in life when the legs weaken, and the head goes swimmy. Fifty pounds for frocks was fabulous. She would take a week’s holiday perhaps, time off, and for the first time in all her life she would be venturesome.
I have got through and have worked hard, she told herself. She was thrilled with the joy of it. She would go to a hotel, where early morning tea arrived, breakfast-in-bed if you wished it (and she did wish it). Somewhere where you clashed bells, and complained if they were not answered briskly.
For the first time she recognised that the long training had wearied her. What fun it would be to break free of the chains, if only for a brief moment. Life had been so monotonous all those years, doing exactly the same things day after day, answering the same bells, being ticked-off by the same Sisters, and now she could escape. She would go right away.
For a few moments she was in a halcyon daze, amazed by the thought of an entirely different week. Fifty pounds to spend on finding herself in a new setting. Fifty pounds for fun. It could not be true.
She went through the morning’s routine in one of those dazes which are almost unreal, but it was a wearying day, one which she thought she would never end. When the great moment had come, it had actually bowled her over.
Now she had time to make plans, time to do something clever, time to think, and she was free of being a nobody in a big whirling hospital. She was a nurse.
It was a difficult day as far as ward work went. A couple of surgicals went up to the theatre, and returned later, better, so everybody hoped. She went down to lunch hoping that the food was nicer than usual, for it could be rotten as she well knew, as the kitchens of the big hospital like everything else, was in a rut.
She finished with late tea and came off duty tiredly, to change and then go down to supper. It would be cold meat and salad (always the same on Thursday nights), topped up with tinned peaches, and a most peculiar cream, which was not what one wanted but none dared to complain.
Two Sisters sat down near her.
‘It’s been a tough day,’ said Alice Grant, who had long ago sickened of her job, but kept on at it because she felt she was too old to start anew at something else. ‘My goodness, there are moments when one longs to run away.’
‘I’ve thought of other jobs, on board ship, or something like that,’ said Maggie Stein, ‘but I never rise to taking the bull by the horns. Maybe I’m scared of slipping out of the frying pan bang into the fire.’ She turned away.
Effie thought of it in bed that night, almost as some kind of dream. I’m going places, she told herself as she laid down to sleep.
Chapter Three
It was settled with the new matron far more easily than Effie would have thought to be possible. She received the usual printed card ‘requesting her presence’ that evening, and rushed from the ward for clean cap and apron, vital necessities when visiting her Majesty!
Matron was calm, cool, and collected (it would be difficult to imagine any matron being anything else), and she said that this had been arranged with Mr. Jamieson. She had been well aware of how hard Effie had worked, and hoped that she would accept this period of time as being something in the nature of a holiday. It was a lovely part of the world, so she gathered. Effie agreed to everything.
Matron settled the date of return, which seemed to be the most urgent point with her. There could be no further extension whatever happened, she said. The hospital was ever short of nursing staff, and had been very good in permitting this long period of time away. She hoped that Effie would realise that it was something of a favour.
It was very plain that Matron was well versed in the way to blow her own trumpet, and she did blow it remarkably well, stressing the fact that she was granting the girl a favour.
I shall never like matrons, she thought, as she blundered out of the office, almost falling over a couple of probationers who were waiting for their moment, and looking rather haggard about it.
‘You’ve got it coming to you,’ she warned them, then off she went.
She was going abroad for the first time in her life! To Italy, that glorious peninsula of sunshine, suntan, and of lovers. For surely it was notorious for its lovers? She would have an invalid to care for, but no housework, for whereas in England the ‘chores’ were for ever trespassing on one’s time, and pushing themselves in, when you were bursting to do something else, abroad, people still had maids to work for them. She had been told that there was nothing like that which would be expected of her.
She came down the corridor and ran into Jeremy Finch. He was one of the less promising young housemen, with a keen eye for a bottle, or for a girl’s ankles. He was wearing flannel trousers (which he had worn for the last three years without a doubt), and an old sports coat which was ornamented by a stethoscope dangling before it; ‘the hallmark of the trade’ as he always called it.
‘Hello, Chucks,’ he said. For some idiotic reason Jeremy had always called her Chucks, and she had no idea why. ‘I wanted to see you. The story is going round the hospital that you are off to Italy to stay in a castle with some little heiress who is a bit too much for her people. What’s happening?’
‘You’ve got it in one act,’ she said, ‘and what is more, nobody save yourself could have made it sound so utterly idiotic.’
‘All right! I’ll go in your place.’
‘Only you aren’t getting the chance,’ she told him.
He said, ‘Is she some dim relative? The side of the family where they had money, or something like that? Or have you got friends at court?’
‘The very best friends at court,’ she agreed.
‘Not someone here in hospital?’
That was the moment when she heard the lift stop, and Rex Jamieson stepped out of it. She thought that he had gone for the day (there must have been some late op about which she knew nothing), and he swung his way towards them. Maybe her face betrayed her (she had the feeling that she was so angry with Jeremy Finch that she showed exactly what she was feeling). But nothing shamed Jeremy.
He said, ‘I can see through that one. Chucks, you won’t be the first theatre nurse who has got off with the star turn!’
She could have killed him where he stood.
Jeremy had always been audacious, with a rich father who could afford a packet of failures, groaned, but then paid up. He was happy-go-lucky, none too good at the job, and he had that twinkle in his eyes and the devil-may-care manner which some of the girls found to be so attractive in him, but which, at this moment, she loathed. Grey eyes that danced, and a provocative smile, maybe he did not mean to be so sickening, but he could be such a tease.
‘Good evening, sir,’ she said as Rex passed her.
‘Good evening, sir,’ from Jeremy, and then, almost before the specialist got properly out of hearing, ‘I do so like the “sir” bit of it! I bet that isn’t what you call him when you are out dining together, and you can’t deny that.’
So he knew they had dined together, also. She said, ‘You do collect the most absurd stories about people in the hospital. One of these days you’ll overstep the mark, and get yourself run in for it. Certainly I did dine with him, and it was with the idea of getting this trip fixed up.’
‘I suppose he is coming, too?’
‘He most certainly is not,’ now she was really angry, her eyes flashing, and the colour rising in her cheeks as she marched off to her room.
It was ridiculous to lose her temper so easily, and this was exactly what she had done. She went into her room, and she thought that Jeremy would not have bothered himself about teasing her, if he had not been jealous. Surely that gave her a little heart? I’m going away, she told herself, there is hardly any work to do, and it is going to be the most blissful holiday of all my life, quite the nicest ever.
Within a few hours the story was going the rounds of the theatre, with several different translations. She knew that the nurses would be jealous, all of them would have been enchanted to have such an opportunity of course, and perhaps that was why they said unpleasant things.
She received a note from the girl’s mother, who was living in one of the most fashionable flats. Obviously, she had talked it over with Rex Jamieson, for she asked if there was any afternoon when they could meet? She would like Effie to come round to her flat at three o’clock.
‘There are some small items which we ought to discuss,’ she wrote, ‘and I shall be so delighted to meet you and see what kind of a personality you are, though Rex has told me lots about you ‒ favourably, of course.’
He knows so little about me, she thought. How can he profess to know? But she wrote back, arranging an afternoon when she came off duty at one o’clock.
She dressed quietly, in a little soft pink dress, with a silver chain belt to it. She had always been taught to dress simply, if you wanted to make a good impression. She arrived almost on the dead second of time, too.
The great doors swung round, and instantly her feet went silent, when they sank down into the thick, plushy carpets. She was escorted by a page boy across the enormous lounge, with innumerable sofas and easy chairs and all manner of people sitting about in them. She would not have thought that so many could be doing so little, but maybe this was the sort of world about which she knew little. She went up a staircase with long easy steps, and was ushered into the flat. Lady Raikes was much older than she had expected, and she had no idea why she had anticipated some youthfulness, perhaps it was the magnificent blue-grey hair matching exactly the dress that she wore, one of those ordinary dresses that cost the earth, just because they looked so simple.
‘How very nice to get you here for a little chat,’ she said, pleasantly enough.
They had tea first, and the nurses’ home should have seen the sort of tea which this place could provide. There were those luxurious little cakes (she felt that she could eat fifty of them). In fact, as they became more friendly she admitted this to Lady Raikes, who said, ‘I’ll get them to put some into a bag and you can take them back to the hospital with you. I know that half you girls get starved, and cakes in your room might be a good idea!’ She laughed then and would take no refusal, saying, ‘I know a bit what it was like. I was a V.A.D. in the war, and I suffered the pangs of hunger in no mean manner.’
They became so friendly that the older woman told the girl far more than she had expected.
She had lost her husband in a shocking car accident and her second child, a son, with him. Left alone in life with Guin, she had, she knew spoilt her abominably, and now was ashamed that she had been so foolish. Guinevere was like her father in looks; she had also his charm of manner, and she had grown up eternally wanting her own way, as he had done.
‘I suppose I could never control her,’ said Lady Raikes rather sadly. ‘I wanted her to have a happy childhood, because I had rather a rotten one myself. I came from a puritanical household, and you know what that is! But she needs control, and won’t take it from me. I think she would accept it from you. I want her not to rush about and go wild.’
‘She is excitable, then?’
‘Yes, very!’ and her ladyship laughed. ‘She likes men, but much of that is her age. She likes drink. She likes nothing that is good for her. But I want her to have a rest in Italy, time to review herself, and her own life. It is such a sweet place. I’ll show you some photographs of it.’
The photographs showed how lovely it was. An Italian village near to Naples, wild flowers everywhere, a little donkey cart or two, and peasants. Then the picture of Guinevere herself, ravishingly lovely, and blonde.
‘I believe blonde hair always gives a lot of trouble in Italy,’ said the girl.
‘Yes, you’re right there, but she must learn not to be misled by these approaches. She loses her head so easily. I ‒ I shall die if I have many more troubles with her.’
Effie realised that there had been gross difficulties, and paused. ‘I ‒ I will do my best,’ she said tenderly, ‘have you a picture of the castle?’
‘Oh yes, of course. It is so charming. Look at this one of it, this is the entrance gate.’
She took the picture into her own hand, and saw the small castle standing in lush country. A river ran nearby, and the walls seemed to be terribly dark. Somehow she knew that its very strength alarmed her, and the way it stood close to that fast running tide.
‘It’s quaint!’ said Lady Raikes. ‘It even has an old gibbet by the side of it. Years ago they hanged men there (one of their pleasant little entertainments). St Giovanni was a patron saint, and he dealt out crude justice. I admit that it is a wee bit eerie …’
‘It looks very eerie.’
‘Oh, you must not let that disturb you! It is like all the other old castles, and there are awful tales about all of them.’
‘Ghosts?’ she hazarded.
‘The locals say so, but they would. I’ve never seen anything. Sometimes at nights there are eerie sounds, screams and things, and there is some chat about a ghost with no face, but that’s a lot of nonsense!’
‘Yes, of course.’ It would be madness to let her nervousness ruin the whole expedition for her, as this was the chance of a lifetime. She replaced the photographs, and hoped that her ladyship would not notice that she had gone slightly quiet.
‘It’s so lovely,’ said Lady Raikes. ‘Here is another of it.’
In the second photograph it looked even darker, and much more severe. There was something about it which made Effie foolishly alarmed, and it did look haunted. ‘It looks a wee bit frightening,’ she said.
‘Oh no, dear, it isn’t alarming at all. It is a very charming castle, lots of stairs to keep you slim, but a lovely place to be. You’ll like it. All modern conveniences, and I chose the colourings, and it really is so sweet.’
‘Yes, I am sure,’ but all the time she had this horrid superstition at the back of her mind, and knew that she really was alarmed.
‘There are nice people to know, and lovely drives round about, good bathing. There is a casino nearby, a small one, but quite big enough to lose a lot of money in it.’ She paused. ‘Don’t encourage Guin to gamble madly, she’s fond of it, and most careless. I have to pay all her debts … (wretched girl) … when she gets into a jam.’
‘I’ll cross the casino off our visiting list,’ agreed Effie, and she laughed gaily.
‘She’ll never let you do that. Make it just once a week, but no more. She can lose sufficient in one merry evening to make me unhappy for a month,’ and her ladyship looked rather alarmed.
Looking closer at the once very beautiful face, one realised that she had been through a lot of trouble, and was such a kindly generous personality.
‘I’ll manage,’ Effie promised her, ‘nurses are accustomed to naughty patients. Nobody likes being ill, so that is a bad start for them, you know.’
Lady Raikes was sympathetic. ‘You’re a dear,’ she said, ‘I’m lucky to get you,’ and then, ‘Rex said you were a darling. He’s such a nice fellow, isn’t he?’
