Polly Read online

  He didn’t say anything, although he shot a quick glance at her worried profile and smiled. ‘They keep a tight rein on you, don’t they?’ he observed easily. ‘But of course, you do have to work hard all day.’

  Polly heaved a sigh of relief. They were back on safe ground, and while she was still searching for something to talk about, they arrived at the hotel.

  The dining room was elegant, with candlelit tables and shining glass and silver, and the meal was delicious. Polly, her small nose twitching at the delicate fragrance of good food, accepted a glass of sherry and studied the menu, pausing only to say: ‘I’m sorry I’m not dressed more suitably, only I didn’t know…’

  Her companion’s glance flickered over her pinkclad person. ‘You look all right to me,’ he observed, giving her the strong impression that he hadn’t given her a look until that moment. ‘Would you like soup or some sort of starter?’

  She decided on avocado pear, stuffed with prawns and bathed in a delicate sauce, and then went on to sole véronique and asparagus, followed by soufflé Harlequin; half chocolate, half vanilla and served with a rich chocolate sauce. Polly ate everything with a splendid appetite and an unselfconscious enjoyment which brought a gleam to the Professor’s eyes.

  She had no quarrel with the conversation either. For once they were on excellent terms, discussing Greek mythology, the unpredictable behaviour of very small children and the best way to prune roses. She was surprised when she glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost ten o’clock.

  The Professor noticed her look. ‘Plenty of time,’ he said easily, and made no attempt to hurry away. They were almost at the hospital when Polly said: ‘Do you live here as well?’ And when he didn’t answer at once: ‘You’ve never come all this way just to bring me back?’

  ‘I enjoy driving,’ he told her blandly. ‘Besides, I had to eat somewhere, didn’t I?’

  ‘But you could have gone home…’

  ‘I spent the weekend there.’ His voice dared her to ask any more questions.

  He stopped the car outside the hospital entrance and got out with her, carrying her bag and going with her into the vestibule. Someone came in behind them and he said a civil goodnight to Staff Nurse Stockley, who smiled at him and ignored Polly.

  ‘Aren’t you two on speaking terms?’ he asked Polly.

  ‘Of course, but she’s a staff nurse.’ She smiled up at him, feeling unexpectedly shy. ‘Thank you very much for bringing me back and for the lovely dinner. You’ll drive back carefully, won’t you?’

  His eyes opened wide at that, but he kept the laughter out of his voice. ‘I’ll remember to do that.’ Ignoring the interested face of the night porter in his little office, he bent his head and kissed her lightly.

  ‘We’ve come a long way, but not quite far enough,’ he told her. ‘Goodnight, Polly,’ and left her gaping after him, not at all sure what he was talking about.

  It was fun to find the other girls waiting when she got up to her room. They shared a pot of tea and a rather sleepy gossip, before getting to their beds. They took it for granted that she had been driven back by her father and she didn’t correct them; there was no need for anyone to know that she had been in the company of one of the hospital consultants.

  But of course, someone did know; she had forgotten Staff. She was making the little beds with her the next morning, trying to keep up with the speedy skill and failing lamentably, when her companion said softly: ‘So you cadged a lift, did you?’

  Polly, mitreing a corner with care and wholly taken up with getting it right, asked: ‘A lift? Where to, Staff?’

  ‘Don’t try any of your cheek on me, Nurse Talbot! Coming into the hospital as bold as brass with a consultant! Don’t you know that you don’t even speak to them?’

  Polly said mildly: ‘I wasn’t on duty.’

  ‘That’s got nothing to do with it. Is that why you’re going to train here? To get yourself a husband? You won’t be the first one, but you listen to me: You’ll be the laughing stock of the hospital once this gets around. You’d better watch your step. Spent the evening with him, did you?’

  Polly tucked the coverlet in exactly so. ‘He happened to be going very near my home and gave me a lift.’ Not quite true, she realised, and went red. ‘Is that a crime?’

  Staff didn’t answer that; she said nastily: ‘I daresay he’s laughing his head off with the other consultants; he knows what hospital gossip is like—not that it bothers him, he’s above all that. But you aren’t.’ She shot Polly a fulminating glance. ‘Now go and feed Baby Price and be sure he gets up his wind.’

  It was early afternoon before Nurse Honeybun had a chance to speak to Polly. ‘What’s all this Staff’s letting drop, about you and Professor Gervis? Says you went out with him and came in at midnight. I know no one much listens to her, she’s such a spiteful cat, anyway, but did you?’

  ‘Well, we came in the door together and she came in just after us, but it wasn’t like that at all—I mean, he was only giving me a lift back from home because he was going that way.’

  Nurse Honeybun nodded briskly: ‘Well, I guessed it was something like that. It’s sour grapes; she’s been waving her eyelashes at him for ages.’

  ‘But he’s going to be married…’

  Nurse Honeybun’s nice horsey face split into a grin. ‘You don’t really think that would worry her, do you? He’s quite a prize, you know.’

  It was apparent by supper time that Staff Nurse Stockley had spread her rumours far and wide. Polly, accosted by nurses she had never spoken to before, fended off their questions with good humour and outward patience while she seethed inwardly, aware that no one really believed all Staff’s gossip, but it made life more interesting to enjoy scandal, however mild it was.

  Polly was quite unprepared for the Professor’s round the next morning. He hadn’t had one on the previous Tuesday, and she scurried happily round the ward doing her various chores, to slither to a halt as the ward doors opened and he and his party walked in. He and Sister Barnes, his Registrar, Staff, Joseph the houseman, the lady social worker, someone from the X-ray department; it looked a crowd. Polly skipped to one side, intent on escaping into the sluice room, but the Professor’s voice, loud and clear, stopped her.

  ‘Good morning, Polly. I see you’re busy; Sister tells me you’re doing quite well.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I hope you had sufficient sleep on Sunday night? I was rather late bringing you back. By the way, I was on the phone to your father; I told him I’d drive you down tomorrow evening—there’s no point in him coming for you when I’m going past your door. Half past six if you can manage it?’

  He had spoken casually, making no attempt to lower his voice; everyone was meant to hear. He didn’t wait for her to answer, but went on: ‘Now, Sister, about Patsy. I’d better have her back in theatre this afternoon—we’ll take a look, shall we?’

  Polly, safely in the milk kitchen making up feeds with Nurse Honeybun, allowed her thoughts to dwell on the Professor’s remarks—meant for all and sundry to hear and establishing without doubt the respectable relationship of old friend’s daughter and himself acting as a kindly mentor. It seemed so unlike him that she giggled, and Nurse Honeybun asked what the joke was. ‘Nothing,’ said Polly. ‘I say, how old is Professor Gervis?’

  Her companion turned to look at her. ‘Don’t you know? I mean, if he’s a family friend?’ She spoke without guile and added: ‘He’s thirty-six.’

  A whole sixteen years older. Her heart gave a sickening lurch at the thought of it. It really was hopeless; she knew she would make him a splendid wife because she loved him with her whole heart, but the odds were against her: Deirdre with her lovely face and gorgeous clothes, her own lack of looks, and now he had let her see quite clearly that he thought of her as someone too young to interest him. Not, she mused, that he would have noticed her if she’d been ten years older.

  She filled the last bottle carefully, waited while Nurse Honeybun checked it and went to
wash her hands. ‘I’ll show you how to do the nasal feed,’ said her companion. ‘Sister says you can have a go at it; she says you’re a sensible girl.’

  A compliment which should have cheered Polly up, but it didn’t.

  It was a scramble to be ready by half past six. She had quickly discovered that the off duty written in the book on Sister Barnes’s desk and the off duty you actually had were two quite different things. If you were feeding a baby or cleaning a cot and making it up for any little patient who might come in, you finished what you were doing. Polly, helping Staff while she redressed a two-year-old’s scalded leg, took one quick peep at the clock and saw that it was already long after five-thirty. And Staff wasn’t going to let her go and nothing, not even the awful thought that the Professor might get tired of waiting and go without her, would make her ask. She held the toddler quiet in her arms, talking soothingly, while her mind raced ahead. If she got away by six o’clock, she would just be able to do it, and if she was too late, she could phone her father. Perhaps she had better go to the home via the front hall and leave a message with the porter in case the Professor was impatient to leave on time.

  Staff finished at last and told her to carry the soiled dressings to the sluice. Polly could see she was going to pretend she had forgotten that Polly was off duty at five o’clock, and it was now ten minutes to six. Unless she could get away within the next few minutes she would have had it.

  She hurried down the ward again because Staff was calling for her.

  ‘You’ll have to rinse these things through before you put them in the laundry bag—you can go when you’ve done that, and not before, Nurse Talbot.’

  ‘You may go now, Nurse. Remind me to send you off duty an hour earlier one day. Enjoy your time off.’ Sister Barnes’s voice was quiet, but there was no gainsaying its authority. Polly escaped in a flurry of thanks.

  She showered and changed and flung a few things into her bag, did her face with a speed which would have horrified her sisters, brushed her hair smooth and raced down to the entrance. The Bentley was there, the Professor at the wheel, looking impatient, as well he might; she was five minutes late.

  ‘So sorry,’ she began, ‘I couldn’t get away—you know how it is. I thought you might have gone…’

  He leaned over and opened the door for her and she got in, breathless with haste and delight at seeing him again. He turned to look at her. ‘Sister Barnes off duty?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes—at least, when she came on she sent me off, otherwise…’

  ‘Staff Nurse Stockley would have kept you for ever.’

  ‘Well, no, I don’t suppose so, but she doesn’t like me. After all, you can’t like everyone, can you?’

  ‘Definitely not. I hope the—er—rumours concerning our relationship have died down?’ He watched her redden. ‘Staff Nurse Stockley started them off, I believe…’

  ‘Well, yes. It was kind of you to make that speech in the ward yesterday: I mean, that you’re a friend of Father’s and keeping an avuncular eye on me.’

  He had started the car and they were in the stream of evening traffic.

  His mouth twitched into a smile. ‘Ah, yes—the difference in our ages makes everything respectable, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I feel a lot older than twenty,’ observed Polly ‘and I expect you often feel much younger than you really are.’

  ‘Not as often as I should wish.’ He found an opening in the traffic and sent the car ahead with effortless speed. ‘You’re returning on Thursday evening? I’ll collect you: I’ve a lecture to give at the University.’

  ‘Oh, there’s no need—it’s very kind of you, Professor, but I think—that is, I’m not sure if I ought to…’

  ‘Staff Nurse Stockley been needling you? Ignore it, Polly. I do what I like regardless of what people think, and I fancy you’re a young woman of spirit. Besides, I can think of nothing sillier than travelling in an empty car and allowing your father to drive to and fro, or worse, you hanging around for buses or trains.’ He sounded suddenly rather severe. ‘We won’t discuss it again.’

  This time he didn’t stop at her home, merely wished everyone a cheerful good evening and drove off, asking her to be ready by seven o’clock on Thursday.

  ‘It’s really very kind of Sam,’ murmured Mrs Talbot, watching Polly wolfing her supper. ‘Don’t they feed you at that hospital, darling? You’re a bit pale, or do I mean thinner in the face, or even unhappy?’

  ‘Just hungry,’ Polly spoke lightly; she had always scoffed at girls growing thin because they were in love, but it seemed to be true, although she put in a good deal of exercise each day, going at a brisk pace up and down the ward from cot to bed and back again.

  It rained the next morning; much needed for the garden, but such a pity when she had planned to lie in the garden between a little weeding and walking Shylock. He had to be taken for a walk anyway, so she got into an old mac and took him over the fields regardless of the weather. The sun shone again the next day, and since Cora and Marian were free in the morning, they picked strawberries and peas and had a picnic lunch on the grass before taking it in turns to get it cut.

  It was just before tea that Diana telephoned to ask Polly if she would spend her next days off with her. ‘I’ve got such a lot to talk about and there’s no one—I mean, Sam’s a darling, but he doesn’t want to discuss clothes, and Deirdre couldn’t care less. Bob’s coming home next week and I do so want to show someone the things I’ve bought, so do come. When are you free?’

  ‘Wednesday and Thursday, and I’d love to come. Actually I’m free on Tuesday evening.’

  ‘Super—I’m coming to Birmingham one day next week to have my hair done. I’ll make it Tuesday and we can drive back together.’

  ‘I’m not off until five o’clock, sometimes later,’ Polly told her.

  ‘That suits me fine. I’ll be outside about six o’clock. Be seeing you—’bye till then!’

  The Professor wouldn’t stop when he called for her. They were away in five minutes and driving faster than usual. Polly sensed his preoccupation and beyond a quiet greeting, stayed silent. She wasn’t sure if he was angry, worried, preoccupied or what, and it seemed best not to ask. Her patience was rewarded after fifteen minutes or so, for he began to talk in a perfectly normal way about a variety of things, and the subject of Diana’s marriage filled the time nicely until he drew up at the hospital.

  ‘Diana’s looking forward to seeing you next week.’ He was sitting behind the wheel making no attempt to move. ‘She’ll pick you up, I gather. You will be able to have a good gossip together.’

  ‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it.’ She longed to ask him if he’d be there too, but it didn’t seem likely. She wanted to ask about his own wedding too; Midsummer Day wasn’t far off now; perhaps it was to be a quiet affair, although she thought that unlikely. Deirdre would want her white satin. She sighed unknowingly and he glanced at her downbent head.

  ‘One day you and I will have to have a talk,’ he said quietly, and got out of the car and came and opened her door.

  What about? wondered Polly. Her work on the ward?—perhaps she wasn’t doing as well as she had hoped; certainly Staff complained about her—too slow or too quick or clumsy. The book? That was really all they had in common, and a lot of good a knowledge of Latin and Greek had been, hardly something to attract a man like the Professor to a girl with only passable looks.

  She walked beside him to the door and he opened it and stood leaning against it, looking down at her. Suddenly he said: ‘Such a pity you have to screw your hair up under that cap.’

  Polly was so surprised that she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘Well, I have to—I mean, nurses wear caps…’

  He put out a finger and touched her cheek gently. ‘You’ll never be a nurse, Polly.’ He put her bag into her unresisting hand. ‘Goodnight.’

  He didn’t wait for her reply, which was just as well, because she was speechless.

  CHAPTER
SIX

  POLLY DIDN’T SEE Professor Gervis for the whole week; at least, he did his rounds and came twice to see a very ill child, but he merely gave her a civil greeting, and as he did the same to all the other nurses on the ward, she could hardly count it as a personal gesture.

  A reaction had set in too after the initial excitement of starting her training, the daily routine of feeding, changing nappies, clearing up after the more senior nurses had done dressings, and treatments, and trotting up and down the ward on errands had begun to pall. She had sense enough to know that it was only a passing phase because she was tired and unhappy and that once she had got through the first month or so and had more actual nursing to do she would find her work enjoyable. But always at the back of her mind was the nagging doubt put there by the Professor; that she would never be a nurse. All the more reason to succeed, she told herself, just let him see… But he wouldn’t be interested; by then he would be a married man with a great many other things to think about.

  It didn’t do to want something you could never have. She did her best to lose the Professor in busy days and evenings off duty filled by the cinema, fish and chip suppers and long talks over pots of tea in the company of the rest of her set. They had all settled down, but it was nice to have a good grumble among themselves while they copied each other’s notes of Sister Tutor’s lectures and looked things up in their dictionaries.

  ‘You’re lucky,’ declared Sally Sims, who was on Children’s Medical. ‘You’ve got that glamorous Professor Gervis—you should see Doctor Frost, all of sixty and like a bear with a sore head! He never smiles, not like your Professor. He passed me in the corridor yesterday and said “Good morning, Nurse,” just as though he knew me.’ She passed her mug for more tea. ‘Is he taking you home again this week?’

  ‘No, I’m spending my days off with his sister.’