Authors: Sheila Ridley
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A
start was made on the new house almost at once. It was to be built on a grassy slope about 200 yards from the hospital, facing the river.
Mark was able to take a fair amount of time off from the hospital to supervise the laborers. Understanding this, Dr. Mastingley offered to take over most of Mark’s usual work.
The two doctors and Andrew had to do the more tricky jobs themselves, and as none of them had any experience in carpentry, they learned as they went along, making many mistakes on the way.
The
local men were intrigued because Mark had determined that, whatever the difficulties, his house was going to have an open fireplace.
There was another thing that caused many eyes to pop out of faces. Half-asleep, Katherine was sitting on the porch when the interesting object arrived. Hearing shouting and laughter, she reluctantly opened her eyes to see what appeared to be a very strange animal. It had a large white shell on its back and a lot of legs it
s
eemed to have control over. With much stumbling and staggering, it made its unsteady way toward the new house. As it passed Katherine, she sat up, laughing. The “strange animal” was a white porcelain bathtub carried by a dozen boys who had just unloaded it from a boat.
As the house neared completion, it was never without its audience of awestruck villagers.
One evening about 10 o’clock, Mark, dusty and untidy, burst into the mission house living room where Katherine and Andrew were looking through some mail-order catalogues.
“It’s in!” he declared in triumph. “Come over and see it.” The others jumped up at once. They knew what he meant. Inside the new house, Mark flung open a door and stood aside to let them enter. There, in all its shining white glory, was installed the bath, complete with two gleaming chromium taps.
For a second the three of them stood in silent admiration. Apart from the bath the room was quite bare, but that did not matter. The important thing was, as Mark said proudly, “It works!” He hurried away and came back with a paraffin can full of water. This he emptied into the bath. “Now, watch!
”
he commanded, and ceremoniously removed the plug.
As the last drop disappeared, he turned to Katherine. Looking at his beaming face she thought what a strange mixture of sophistication and simplicity he was. “Well, Nurse,” he said gaily, “another operation performed successfully.”
“She laughed. “The ‘patient’ looks fine.”
He nodded. “It’s a bit deceptive, of course, until the taps work, too, but this is an improvement on the old system.” They congratulated him, and then he said, “We’re having trouble getting the fire to burn properly. Mastingley is trying to locate the fault now. Let’s go in and see how he’s getting on.”
The sitting room and dining room combined ran the full length of the building. There was a large, low window at each end and a modern black-tiled fireplace opposite the door.
Before the fireplace crouched the usually dapper Dr. Mastingley. Now he wore very creased, grubby, fawn-colored shirt and trousers. His sleeves were rolled up and his hands and arms were grimy from continually taking out charred wood from the grate.
He grinned up at them as they joined him. “How I regret never having been a boy
scout,” he sighed. “I’ve probably been using the wrong wood. I refuse to believe there’s anything wrong with the chimney. I’ll have one more try. Cross your fingers, everybody, and say a prayer to the household gods—saving your presence, Kennedy—now!” He set the lighted match to the crumpled paper and the flames began to lick at the pyramid of sticks he had carefully arranged. Gradually they took hold and a thin column of smoke curled up the chimney. Gently, almost tenderly, Dr. Mastingley placed more fuel on the fire. The rich resinous wood crackled and spluttered, flaming green, yellow and blue.
Standing up, Dr. Mastingley wiped his face with his handkerchief. “It seems to be drawing pretty well now,” he said tentatively.
“Well done, Mastingley,” said Mark, slapping his colleague on the back. “That’s our two big problems solved. Most of the furniture has arrived so we’ll be able to move in quite soon.”
It was nearly Christmas now and it was decided that the two doctors should move into the new house early in the New Year.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Andrew had resolved that New Year’s Eve would be celebrated in the traditional manner or as near to it as could be managed. After a good dinner they would have some music and songs. Then, as midnight approached, Mark, as the darkest man present, would go outside. When 12 o’clock came he would knock on the door and be let in, bringing good luck to the house for the New Year. This custom of a dark man being “first foot” over the threshold was new to Dr. Mastingley and had to be explained. Andrew, with mock solemnity, declared it to be a pagan rite and quite out of place in a minister’s house.
Katherine dressed carefully that evening. She thought that here at last was an opportunity to wear the pink silk dress and shoes that had not been out of the cupboard since she unpacked them a year ago. She took the dress out now. It had not lost any of its smoothness, and its simple style made it suitable for this evening’s celebration.
She had washed and set her hair earlier—one thing there was always a good supply of in Ngombe was soft rain water—and now she brushed it until it shone.
Next she put on the dress. How luxurious it felt after months of wearing linen and cotton. The tiny pearl earrings Ann had sent her as a Christmas gift were just right; then, with pink lipstick and a touch of perfume, she was ready.
Taking a last look in her mirror at her bright eyes and slightly flushed cheeks, she smiled. She looked so excited she might have been going to a grand ball instead of lo a very small gathering in a forest village.
The living room was empty when she went in. It was decorated with trailing greenery, and on the large sideboard was a nativity scene made by the school children. The furniture had been given an extra polish, and it shone in the lamplight. The room looked quite festive, thought Katherine, and, feeling gay herself, she twirled around so that her full skirt swung out. Oh, it was nice to be wearing high-heeled shoes. She pirouetted again and then came to an abrupt stop. Mark Charlton was standing in the doorway watching her, his pipe clenched between his teeth. He was smiling. “Do you prefer to dance alone or may I have the pleasure of dancing with you?”
He pushed his pipe into his pocket and came toward her. Her heart began to pound in a most uncomfortable way, and she seemed to have no breath to reply. With a tremulous smile she nodded and moved into his arms. “Since we have no music we’d better agree on which dance we’re to do,” he said, looking down
at her. “Shall we waltz?” She nodded again. “Good. It’s the only one I can do properly. Now, what’s that tune they used to play at the staff dances for the last waltz?”
“ ‘
Always,’
”
said Katherine, remembering how she had watched him dance that last waltz with Elizabeth Frayne.
“That’s the one. ‘Always,’
” He gave a little bow, drew her closer and, humming the tune uncertainly in his deep voice, lead her into the dance.
How many times had she imagined the feel of his arms around her? So many, many times. And now she was in his arms, but only for a moment. What sweet sadness there was in that moment.
When it was over he released her and bowed again. “That was delightful. Thank you, Nurse—no, I can’t call you ‘Nurse’ tonight,” he said. In his eyes was the awareness she had longed for. He was seeing her as a woman and she did not think she was imagining the admiration in his look. “You don’t look a bit like Nurse Marlowe, so I’ll have to call you Katherine. I don’t think Kennedy will mind if we have a drink, now. I see he’s acquired a couple of bottles from somewhere.”
He poured two glasses of sherry and gave her one. “I’m glad we have this few minutes alone, Katherine. I’d like us to drink a toast together—just you and I. We’ve worked hard in this year that’s ending and I think we can be moderately pleased with what we’ve achieved. So let’s drink to a good year’s work.” He raised his glass. Raising hers, Katherine added, “And to another just about to begin.” He nodded. “Yes, indeed. I have a lot of plans I want to get busy on in the next twelve months. For one thing, we must do something to spread the load and save patients long journeys wherever possible. My idea is to set up small clinics in the outlying villages with a nurse in charge to do dressings, dole out medicines, and give injections. That will ease the work here considerably.”
“Yes, it will,” agreed Katherine,” and perhaps the nurses will be able to spot cases that need hospital treatment in the early stages.”
“And with the extra beds in the new annex we’ll get the waiting list down quickly.”
The hospital had been empty for a few days to allow the inside to be cleaned and disinfected. Katherine asked if they would begin admitting patients next day.
“Yes, we can’t keep the hospital closed any longer. But I didn’t mean to talk about the hospital at all tonight. I was going to concentrate on idle chatter.”
“I don’t mind talking shop,” replied Katherine quietly. “I’m as interested in the hospital as you are.”
“I know, Nurse—Katherine
—
and I’m grateful. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly for all you've done. It’s only quite recently that I realized what a lot I was expecting when I asked you to come here. I took it for granted that you would come, and that you would be equal to whatever you were called upon to do. It was only when I discovered how this place appeared to another woman that I really appreciated what you were doing.”
Confused by his praise, she murmured,
“I ...
I’ve been happy to do what I could.”
“Yes. That’s what’s so remarkable,” he responded eagerly. “I believe you have been happy. There are very few young women who would have come to a remote mission station, worked long, hard hours for only a pittance and still have managed to be happy.”
“There have been compensations to make up for those things.”
“There may have been, but still I think you’re an unusual woman.”
Katherine stared into her empty glass, trying to think of something to say that would steer the conversation away from herself. The hospital was a nice safe subject; better get back to that.
“Do you think we’ll be able to start work on the new hospital fairly soon?” she asked a little unsteadily.
“I hope so. We can’t keep on adding to the original building. We really need a group of buildings: a surgical block with a larger operating room and an anesthetic room; a medical block, and an out-patients block, all with proper plumbing, of course.” He grinned. “I dream of hot water systems as some men dream of fast cars or beautiful women. But all this will take time and money—especially money. I’ve sent an outline of my plans to the Society but I haven’t had a reply yet. They may cough up the cost before too long.”
Andrew hurried in, followed by his sister. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “We had a bit of a panic in the kitchen; we didn’t have a pot big enough for the chicken and I thought I was going to have to ask you to perform a major operation on the bird, Charlton. However, Moses was able to borrow a larger pot. Dinner will be a little late, I’m afraid, but that will give us time to have a leisurely drink. Can I fill your glass, Kathie?” As he took her glass he noticed her dress. “I haven’t seen this outfit before, have I? Mm, it’s very pretty and so are you—but more of that later,” he smiled, then turned to his sister. “Mary, let me give you a glass of sherry—just a wee drop?” he coaxed, but she refused and went to sit stiffly in a corner.
Dr. Mastingley joined the party a few minutes later. He seemed to be unusually relaxed and cheerful. Andrew gave him a drink and asked how his research was going.
“It’s going very well, very well indeed. I think I’m on the threshold of an important discovery but I don’t want to talk about it until I’m sure.”
“Well, that’s something else to celebrate,” said Andrew. “I think the next twelve months are going to be important ones for Ngombe. If Dr. Mastingley succeeds in finding a cure for sleeping sickness, and when Charlton gets his splendid new hospital, we might become quite famous.”
After dinner, Andrew played and sang Scottish folksongs for a while. Then Dr. Mastingley surprised his listeners by revealing a gift for storytelling. He explained that he had spent his childhood and youth in Ireland and had passed many hours sitting by peat fires listening to the old men recount their tales.
Now he kept his small audience entranced with his stories of the little people and the terrible giants; of St. Patrick and St. Brigid. As he talked he relapsed into a rich brogue that contrasted strangely with his usual dry, precise tones.
All attempts to draw Mary Kennedy into the happy circle failed. She remained sitting in her corner, her hands clasped in her lap, her face getting longer as the evening went on. But the others gradually forgot her and enjoyed the unaccustomed break from work and seriousness.
They sang carols together and then, a few minutes before midnight, checked the exact time by their watches. This was when they discovered that Mary Kennedy was not in the room. None of them had seen her leave. “She must see the New Year in with us,” said Andrew. “I daresay she’s gone to her room or something—I’ll fetch her.” He went out, but a minute later he came back alone, looking puzzled. “She’s not there and none of the boys has seen her. It’s very odd, isn’t it? But it’s almost midnight. I’ll fill up the glasses and then we can toast the New Year, the second Charlton comes in. Right. Just a minute to go.” Mark went out. Andrew slipped an arm around Katherine’s shoulders and they stood looking at their watches. They heard the front door open and close; then, as the pointers of their watches met on twelve, a shout tore across the still, quiet air.
For a fraction of a second the three people stared at each other in bewilderment. Then Katherine ran to the window. It was wide open. She was sure it had been Mark who had called out. It had sounded like “Oh, my God!” She soon saw the reason. There was a blinding light against the blackness of the forest. The hospital! It was on fire! In the same instant she saw Mark’s tall figure racing toward the blaze, and she clambered over the low sill on to the porch. “Mark, come back! Mark!” she screamed, hardly knowing what she was saying.
As she ran after him, her high heels caught in the long grass and tripped her up. She got to her feet and dashed on.
“He’ll be killed, he’ll be killed,” was the only thought in her head.
When she paused for a moment at the hospital steps, she saw that the worst of the blaze was on the side where the wards were. Thank God no patients were there! At that side the roof sagged and seemed about to collapse. She ran through the door. The passage was full of thick smoke but was not on fire yet. Her eyes were stinging and full of tears so that she could hardly see. “Mark, where are you? Mark!” she sobbed. Then she saw him. He was lying on his face across the passage and halfway into the clinic room.
She knelt down beside him. There was a deep wound on his head. Putting her hands under his shoulders she tried to drag him toward the door. The crackling of the flames grew louder, and there was an overpowering smell of kerosene.
“Kathie, are you all right? Get out of here quickly. We’ll see to Charlton.” It was Andrew, with Dr. Mastingley.
As they bent to pick up Mark, Katherine slipped into the clinic room.
“I must get the drugs out,” she told herself. This was obviously what Mark had meant to do when something fell on his head and knocked him unconscious. The cupboard was locked and Mark had the key. She would have to move the whole thing. Fortunately it was a small cupboard, standing on a shelf.
When she staggered to the door with it in her arms, she saw that the passage was ablaze. There was only the small window she could use. Frantically, she pushed the cupboard onto the sill, then lowered it carefully onto the porch and scrambled out after it. How heavy it was. How would she ever get it away before the whole hospital collapsed?
“Kathie, thank God you’re safe! I thought you’d gone back to the house.” It was Andrew again, his face grimed and anxious. “Come away, love.”
“The drugs, Andrew,” she said vaguely.
Without another word he lifted her up and put her over the porch railing onto the grass. “Stay there!” he ordered. “I’ll get this stuff to a safe place.” He grabbed the cupboard and stumbled across to the laboratory with it; then he came back to Katherine.
She was where he had deposited her. She could not have moved if she had tried, for her legs were shaking violently.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her back to the house. There he laid her gently on her bed, stroking back the hair that fell across her forehead. Her mind was still confused and she could not think clearly about what had happened.
“I’ll get Dr. Mastingley to come and have a look at you,” said Andrew.
“No, I’m all right. He must stay with Mar—” She caught her breath. She had been going to say Mark. Then she remembered she had said “Mark” before—had said it out loud. Horrified, she stared at Andrew. Did he know? Had she given herself away completely?
He was smiling at her, but it was a sad smile. “That’s all right, Kathie. Don’t worry, I know how you feel.”
“You ... know?”
“Yes. You love him,” he said simply. “It was there in your face when you saw he was in danger and you forgot everything else.”