yRing for the Nurse(38)

       
           



       



For a time they spoke of desultory matters; now Felicity's news was  exhausted she had to hear all the latest Hospital gossip. Bill Newlyn's  new attachment naturally came again into the discussion and Felicity  found herself recalling those many evenings when the four of them had  sat together, their heads close as they had pored over the tit-bits of  Hospital scandal. It was all part of Hospital life, part of the life she  had grown used to and loved. With a pang she realized she would soon be  leaving all this behind, leaving it for an unknown future in an unknown  country, and once again she was obsessed with a frightening sense of  misgiving.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN



Exacting as Felicity had always found her work she had never found it  tedious, yet since her return from Weir Court day seemed to have  succeeded day in dreary monotony. She'd barely been back ten days and  yet it seemed months since she had inhaled the sweet smell of the  countryside and feasted her eyes on the undulating vista of hill and  dale. As with meticulous care she adjusted the extension tackle attached  to a patient's bed, her thoughts were miles away. Not only was she  uncomfortably aware of her own sudden disinterest in her work, but  although she had as yet not even found the courage to admit it to  herself, the reason had become all too apparent. There was only Mr.  MacFarlayne visiting the ward. In place of Guy Brenton's exacting but  precise instructions she was obliged to accept the deputy surgeon's  easy-going and almost benign attitude. When Mr. MacFarlayne had first  taken over it hadn't really been so hard, since during those weeks she  had been giving her all to the care of her patient. She had exerted  herself to the exclusion of all else in promoting Guy Brenton's  recovery. Now there was nothing to distract her, nothing but the  monotony of ward routine and the periodic visits of a surgeon whose  persistent smile and almost apologetic manner now goaded her to  desperation.



"Shall I do Mr. Brown's back now?" the probationer who had been assisting Felicity asked with some hesitation.

"Yes, I think that's all we can do here." Felicity gave a final pull at  the adjustment and turned away. "I suppose you can manage?"

"Well ... I think so."

The young girl's expression was more eloquent than her words, and never  able to resist an appeal from any of her juniors, Felicity accompanied  her to Mr. Brown's bed. "No -like this," she instructed her patiently.  "No-turn him this way-take his weight on your shoulder, you'll find it  far easier."

"Nurse Dene-"

At Sister Robinson's summons Felicity placed the bottle of spirits on  the bedside locker and turned obediently. "Yes, Sister, did you want  me?"

"Just a moment-" Sister Robinson broke off to smile kindly at the  probationer. "You must try and manage alone, if you don't try you'll  never learn ... massage more evenly ... there ... that's better!" She  turned back to Felicity and there was a note of ill-concealed anxiety in  her voice. "I've just heard that Mr. Brenton is here-it seems that he  intends doing a round. Most thoughtless without warning us-how about  straightening things up a bit, we'd better have everything in order."



Guy Brenton to visit his ward! Sister's words must have carried as far  as the probationer bent assiduously to her task of rubbing Mr. Brown's  back, perhaps to Mr. Brown himself and maybe the adjacent beds and to  Nurse Jones who had at that moment passed them with a trolley of  dressings, yet, to Felicity it was as if the momentary hush which  followed the announcement completely filled the long ward. That real or  imaginary silence was followed by excited chatter, and those patients  familiar with the name through their long sojourn in hospital were  busily explaining to the more ignorant. As for Felicity, she felt sure  she had been gaping in wide-eyed astonishment, why, she couldn't imagine  since surely this was the moment she had been awaiting since her  return.

"Yes-yes," Sister was replying to a patient's eager questioning, "It  looks as though we'll soon be getting our own surgeon back. Some of you  boys know him. Of course we'll all be very pleased," she added with a  forced smile.                       
       
           



       

Felicity couldn't help feeling that Sister's obvious despondency belied  her words and when she followed her into her office and the door closed  behind them, making further conversation inaudible to the staff and  patients, her opening remarks brought a smile to Felicity's lips.



"Fancy just turning up-without a word of warning! How are we going to  cope-a nurse short this morning too!" Sister Robinson's voice was almost  a wail and in her agitation she pushed back her cap allowing a few  wisps of hair to escape from the confining band. "You know what he's  like, so different from dear Mr. MacFarlayne, he'll expect every report  and every X-ray ready to hand-every detail of his old cases and there  must be still quite a dozen that were originally his-oh dear, I can't  even recall which ones they are!" She fumbled distractedly through the  index file on her desk. "Let me see-Morati, he was here, wasn't he?  Number seven was operated by him, too-oh dear, I do wish I knew which  cases he'll want to examine," she ended despairingly.

"Probably it's just a formal visit, perhaps Mr. Brenton doesn't intend  to do a proper ward round at all," Felicity suggested, but underlying  her air of complete composure she was certain that she felt just as  agitated as Sister Robinson, perhaps not quite in the same way, but with  a pervading sense of excitement and pleasure. Since leaving Weir Court  she had not seem him again. Tony, staying in his flat, had been able to  tell her of his progress and although she knew he had paid periodical  visits to hospital for treatment and for lectures, they had not met. She  had also heard of Guy's improvement from Alaine who had chatted  unreservedly on a shopping expedition they had taken together; Alaine  had spoken of his persistent and untiring efforts to regain the full use  of his hand. Now she was really to see him, she would be able to judge  for herself, would perhaps feel that she had played no small part in his  recovery, and realized how much joy that knowledge would afford her.  Felicity gave a guilty start as she awoke to the fact that Sister  Robinson was again addressing her.

"... I feel he may be annoyed about Morati, but after all Mr.  MacFarlayne did say he could get about." Unaware that Felicity had  missed quite a few of her observations, she continued. "We must get the  ward straightened up-get a couple of the pros, on to it-and oh, Nurse  Dene, what about renewing Brown's dressing? I was going to leave it  until later, Mr. MacFarlayne never minds when we are busy, you know how  understanding he is." Her forehead creased into a frown of perplexity.  "I don't see how we'll get through, I wonder what time he'll come. I've  just remembered about getting the Simpson boy up, you know how Mr.  Brenton insisted he should go down for his massage in the mornings, he  hasn't had it yet and I know Mr. Brenton is bound to ask!"

"Suppose I get along and see to these things," Felicity suggested.,  "There seems to be quite a lot to do and the sooner I get started-"

"Yes, yes,: my dear," Sister interrupted. "Do get along. I mustn't keep  you talking with so much to do. Oh, dear, it is so inconsiderate..."

Sister's words were still following Felicity as she left the office. She  was, unlike her senior, quite free from any sense of panic. In any case  it wasn't in her nature to get flustered over her work and if she felt  any undue emotion at all it was only one of pleasure at Guy's imminent  visit.

Although Felicity set quietly about her work she could not but be aware  of Sister Robinson's disturbing presence. She seemed to be hovering  first here then there, and even imbuing the patients with her own show  of anxiety. "Might be royalty comin' " she heard one man mutter  impatiently, and Morati, now promoted to a wheel chair, gave his opinion  of the whole affair in his most flowery language.

"There, there, son, you mustn't use such wicked words," she heard Sister  chiding him. "You would still be on your back if it hadn't been for Mr.  Brenton, such ingratitude."

"Can't be ho need for all this tidying," she heard a youngster grumble  as Sister ruthlessly swept away a pile of comics which littered his bed  and deftly smoothing his counterpane, tucked them away at the back of  his locker out of reach.