Authors: Marjorie Moore
Ignoring her frigid demeanour, he offered her a cigarette, and, after she had refused, remarked casually:
“
Sure you won
’
t smoke? Ther
e
is a Turkish one here. I repaired the omission before leaving.
”
His tone became less bantering as he continued.
“
I
’
m sorry if you took my previous remark amiss. You see, I
am
interested in you; it
’
s always rather exciting to come up against a hostile spirit.
”
“
I
’
m sure it must be; it can
’
t often happen to you
...
at least, not with my sex,
”
Mary hinted politely.
“
You flatter me! Am I then, in your opinion, such a success with women?
”
There was a glint of amusement in the flint-like eyes which searched hers. Sir Richard became conscious that he was thoroughly enjoying this battle of wits. Again he wondered what was the matter with this girl. What on earth had he done to rouse such obvious antipathy? He suddenly recalled the episode of that afternoon. Of course, she had been the nurse concerned! Well, it hadn
’
t been his fault that Sister had been
s
o scathing in her remarks, and, from the little he had seen, he imagined the nurses must be accustomed to the Sister
’
s domineering manner by now. His eyes wandered to the still figure of the girl seated beside him ... so close and yet so distant. What a pretty child she was with that golden aureole of hair. No wonder she had been tempted to remove for a moment the close-fitting cap which concealed its glory. Strange how different she looked out of her uniform, which hid the slim contour of her figure and the soft rounded lines of her neck and arms. If it hadn
’
t been for her hair, and those unforgettable grey eyes, he would probably never have recognized her at all as the figure in that drama of the afternoon. He felt almost irritated that he could not win her round, yet, even at that moment, realized the uselessness of trying. She obviously had no intention of yielding one inch towards a less formal footing. As Mary still remained silent Sir Richard repeated his question:
“
Tell me, is that your opinion?
”
“
How should I know? ... I know nothing whatever about you,
”
Mary retorted.
“
I admire you as surgeon
—
no one could help doing that; but as a man
—
well, you don
’
t interest me.
”
Mary paused, then, suddenly throwing caution to the winds, she concluded vehemently.
“
It
’
s true, I don
’
t know very much about you; but enough, however, to realize that you are thoroughly spoilt by all the silly women at St. Jude
’
s who make a ridiculous fuss of you and hang on your every word. Just because I happen to be a St. Jude
’
s nurse you expect the same from me. I
’
m sorry, but hero-worship isn
’
t in my line.
”
Even as she spoke a shiver of apprehension went through her at her own temerity.
“
I see. That
’
s the trouble...
”
Sir Richard spoke thoughtfully. The smile died from his lips at her words,
’
and his expression hardened. So that, then, was at the root of her antagonism.
“
You seem to judge by appearances; you must see
...”
He broke off abruptly, suddenly strangely aware of the uselessness of argument. She imagined he sought this popularity, of which, despite an effort to persuade himself to the contrary, he realized now he should be interested or concerned in the opinion of a girl in whom he hadn
’
t
t
he slightest interest, and, until that evening, had scarcely addressed.
Soon they reached the outlying suburbs, and Sir Richard was compelled to slow down the speed of the car. When they approached the familiar streets in the vicinity of the hospital, Mary experienced a sensation of relief. She wished, though, that she had made some
attempt to justify herself, but it was too late now. As the car drew to a standstill outside the stone entrance, she slipped out before her companion had time to alight.
“
Thank you ... It was very kind of you to bring me home.
”
Sir Richard leaned forward and stretched his hand through the open window, gripping Mary
’
s hand firmly.
“
Not at all; I
’
m delighted to have been of service.
”
Despite the formality of the words, Mary caught a curious gleam in his eyes. What was it? Anger? Amusement? Contempt? But his inscrutable expression told her nothing. With a determined effort, she forced herself to speak.
“
Just n
o
w ... I didn
’
t mea
n...”
She hesitated; the words almost choked her.
“
You
’
d better hurry now.
”
Sir Richard glanced at his wrist-watch.
“
It
’
s just past the half-hour, and I don
’
t suppose you have a late pass.
”
“
No, I haven
’
t, as a matter of fact, so good night.
”
Mary felt her hand released, and, as she turned and hurried up the wide steps and through the swing doors, she was conscious of him silently watching her departure. When she reached the tessellated hall she gave an almost imperceptible shrug. She
’
d been a fool; no use denying it
...
and she had tried to apologize. A smile curved her red lips. Whatever the outcome, it had been worth sticking up for her principles; worth having the unique distinction of being one of the few nurses at St. Jude
’
s who had remained impervious to the charm of the great surgeon.
CHAPTER
THREE
Mary closed the door
of the nurses
’
quarters behind her, and, descending the steps walked across the turfed quadrangle. The soft wind played with the starched wings of her cap, causing them to billow behind her head in spread-eagle fashion. She hastened her steps towards the red-bricked building which housed the surgical wards. The chapel clock was just striking eight as the swing doors of Meredith Ward clanged behind her, and, smoothing the soft curls of hair peeping beneath her cap, she crossed the floor of the long ward.
“
Hallo, Grant. I wondered what had happened to you. I didn
’
t spot you at breakfast,
”
Joan Howe
’
s cheerful voice greeted her.
“
I know. I was terribly late; only had time to swallow some coffee,
”
Mary admitted, laughing. She grimaced.
“
What awful coffee it was this morning, too; worse than usual! Sister been about yet?
”
she added, looking anxiously along the ward.
“
No, she hasn
’
t shown up yet, thank goodness!
”
Joan sighed.
“
Wouldn
’
t it be grand if she
’
d decided to take a day off?
”
“
Never been known to yet, has she?
”
Mary seated herself at the desk which flanked the wall at the end of the ward and carefully scanned the night nurse
’
s reports.
“
Don
’
t suppose she
’
ll do anything as pleasant as that in our time.
”
She studied the forms before her.
“
Number seven seems pretty bad.
”
She frowned, the tiny lines creasing the smoothness of her forehead.
“
That
’
s the case Sir Richard operated on yesterday, isn
’
t it?
”
“
Yes.
”
Joan picked up the tray of instrument
s
she had temporarily deposited on the desk.
“
I must get a move on; he
’
s due round this morning at ten.
”
Mary jumped to her feet.
“
Heavens, I
’
d forgotten it was Thursday. I
’
d better chase round a bit myself.
”
It was over an hour later before Mary found herself alone again with her friend. Although their two years
’
training now exempted them from the dreary tasks of dusting and polishing, Sister Tudor saw to it that none of the nurses attached to her ward had time for idle gossip, and she had the habit, as those in her charge were wont to declare, of
“
being all over the place at once.
”
What with special diet sheets to be arranged, temperatures to be taken, simple dressings to be done, Mary found the first hour of the day gone very quickly, and she was glad to make her way for a few moments
’
respite to the seclusion of the ward pantry. Sister rarely intruded there, and it was usually a safe spot in which to snatch a few minutes from her searching eye and ready tongue.
“
Hallo. I thought I saw you disappear. The old dragon
’
s on the phone; we
’
re safe for a few minutes.
”
Mary closed the door behind her as she addressed her friend Joan, who was reclining as comfortably as the one wooden chair which the room boasted, would allow.
“
I
’
m tired. I felt if I didn
’
t sit down I
’
d drop! It
’
s not a bit cooler; I don
’
t believe that storm last night did any good. True, there
’
s a breeze this morning, but it
’
s a warm one,
”
Joan grumbled.
“
By the way, what sort of an evening did you have? Did you get caught in that deluge?
”
“
It was really rather funny.
”
Mary paused, a note of excitement creeping into her voice.
“
I
’
ve been longing to tell you about it
...
Sir Richard brought me home!
”
Joan resumed an upright position, nearly tipping over the unsteady chair with her sudden movement.
“
Who
brought you home? Did I hear aright?
”
A smile dimpled the cottiers of her mouth.
“
I think the sun has affected you properly this time.
”
“
No, Joan, it
’
s honestly true. I behaved so badly, too!
”
Mary moved nearer to her friend.
“
I must tell you all about it, quickly, before
the
Tudor wench finds us here.
”
Joan Howe listened to her friend in bewilderment, which slowly turned to incredulous amazement.
“
You didn
’
t really tell him he was spoilt by the nurses! You never let him think you despised him for it!
”
she burst out as soon as Mary had finished her narrative.
“
I did. I was horribly rude. Something just got hold of me and I seemed to forget completely to whom I was speaking,
”
Mar
y
confessed unhappily.
“
I suppose he expected me to be thrilled at the prospect of an hour
’
s
tete-
a
-tete
.”
Suddenly her grey eyes twinkled.
“
I don
’
t really care. I tried to apologize, but he wasn
’
t having any. I
’
ve the satisfaction of knowing that I did stick up for my principles, and that
’
s something.
”
“
Quick
...
Sister!
”
The words were a mere whisper, but in a second Mary had dragged forward a pile of linen which she began to sort with feverish haste, while Joan flung open the doors of a cupboard and scrutinized its contents with an air of deep concentration.
“
What
a
re you doing?
”
Sister Tudor eyed the two girls doubtfully.
“
You
’
ve been away from the ward far too long. Gossiping as usual, I suppose. Do you realize that Sir Richard will be here at any moment now? Nurse Howe, you
’
ve still two dressings to do.
”
She turned to Mary.
“
And you, Nurse Grant, leave what you
’
re doing and prepare the trolley. Nurse Vickers is doing
‘
special
’
for number seven, and I shall want you to come round with Sir Richard.
”
Left alone, Mary set herself to prepare the trolley. Sterile bowls, rubber gloves, carbolic, hypodermics
...
she ticked the items off on her fingers. Nothing annoyed Sister so much as a carelessly prepared trolley
...
and when it was for Sir Richard, too
...
Mary placed a dish of gleaming instruments to boil while she poured dilute carbolic into a hand-basin. It was rather unfortunate that she should be thrown into Sir Richard
’
s company today, she mused. Not that it really mattered; she
’
d have to face him sooner or later.
Pulling herself together with an effort, she recalled herself to her task. Turning down the gas beneath the sterilizer and carefully assuring
herself as to the completeness of her preparations, she wheeled the trolley into the ward. It was almost with astonishment that she became aware of a curious weakness in her knees, and the slight tremble of her lips which assailed her, as she espied Sir Richard
’
s familiar figure already in attendance. She was vaguely conscious or Sister
’
s tight-lipped anger and her signs of hurry. Steeling herself for the ordeal, and with lowered eyes, Mary pushed the trolley before her and hurried across the ward, her thoughts in a turmoil.
“
Pull the curtains. What a time you
’
ve been!
”
Sister
’
s words, hissed into her ear, recalled Mary to the job on hand. She hastened to obey, and carefully arranged the cream linen curtains until they hid the bed, over which the surgeon had already stooped, from the rest of the ward.
“
Remove the dressing.
”
Sir Richard
’
s words were curt and the brief gaze which met hers entirely expressionless. Not by one flicker did he betray his recognition of his companion of the previous evening.
“
Yes, sir.
”
Grateful for the opportunity of hiding her face, Mary bent over the patient and with quick, skilful fingers removed the dressing. Straightening herself, she turned her back and became busied in the disposal of the soiled dressings.
“
Forceps, please.
”
This time there was no doubt about it. Sir Richard
’
s eyes, as he took the instrument from her hand, gave no sign of recognition. Mary knew she should have felt grateful; after all, he was showing her as plainly as he could that, as far as he was concerned, he was no longer interested. Surely that was exactly what she should have wanted, and yet, with a perversity she couldn
’
t herself understand, the hot blood flooded her cheeks as she turned hastily away to hide her confusion. Surely that cold, indifferent stare was an insult? He
couldn
’
t persuade her that, a
f
ter a solid hour spent in her company, she was unrecognizable, even if
she
was only a nurse!
“
Nurse, you
’
re dreaming. Can
’
t you see Sir Richard is waiting for a towel?
”
The Sister
’
s angry words brought Mary back with a start. She hastily obeyed the request, and, thrusting back her thoughts, made an effort to concentrate.
“
Call Nurse Howe to replace this dressing.
”
With relief Ma
r
y passed to the next bed and again arranged the curtains. From one patient to another; she had never known the time drag so.
Sir Richard raised his hands and wiped them carefully on the towel Mary handed him.
“
That
’
s the lot, isn
’
t it? Have that fracture case X-rayed again Saturday morning
”
“
Yes, sir.
”
Sister Tudor turned to Mary.
“
Make a note of that, nurse. See to it yourself, and mind you have the films here for Sir Richard to see.
”
“
I shall not be here; I am off all day Saturday.
”
Somehow that reply gave Mary a feeling of infinite satisfaction.
“
Of course, I forgot. Dear me, we
’
re so short-handed, too, during the holiday season; it
’
s enough to drive one distracted,
”
Sister exclaimed with grievance.
‘
I
’
ll see about it at once.
”
She bustled off across the ward to give instructions to another nurse.
As Sir Richard replaced the towel on the trolley, and Mary made to move away, he placed a restraining hand on her arm.
“
Nurse Grant, just a moment.
”
As Mary swung round to face him, his hand dropped from her arm.
“
I
’
m very busy
...”
“
Very well, I won
’
t detain you.
”
In an instant he had left her, and it was almost with surprise that she watched his tall figure disappear through the swing doors of the ward.
For the moment Mary stood nonplussed. What on earth had made her offer any protest? Again she
’
d been unpardonably rude, and, this time, without the slightest justification. She had presumed that whatever he had had to say had been personal, while it might even have been some comment regarding her work. He
’
d snapped her up so quickly, she mused; she had really intended to stay and listen to him. Her preliminary
“
I
’
m very busy
”
hadn
’
t really meant anything; it had just slipped out in an effort to gain time, to hide her surprise at his request. Well, he
’
d gone now. She
’
d put her foot in it again and it was too late to make amends. She gave an imperceptible shrug, and, pushing the trolley, made her way slowly back to the pantry.
The small room was a buzz of conversation. The
“
first luncheon
”
nurses had returned, and, back a few minutes before the hour, were
loath
to enter the ward again one moment before they were due. The pantry was always the meeting-place before and after meals.