Wish with the Candles Page 6

  ‘I think he gets enough to eat, Mother,’ Emma had observed dryly. Men who could afford to drive Rolls-Royces weren’t likely to eat anything but the best. ‘Besides, dear, it isn’t quite…that is, I couldn’t very well ask him. I don’t know him well, you see. I know we work together and I see him almost every day, but it’s difficult…he’s a consultant.’

  Her mother had nodded. Emma’s father had been a country GP; the niceties of the hospital hierarchy had meant very little to his wife. Emma explained carefully until she was satisfied that her mother understood that consultant staff weren’t really in the habit of spending weekends with lesser fry. She had added consolingly, ‘Never mind, darling, Kitty’s sure to bring some boy-friends home,’ and had been stricken into silence when her mother said, ‘Yes, dear, but I should like it very much if you brought a nice man home from time to time.’

  Emma smiled at the memory of her mother’s words and looked up as Staff put her head round the door and said, ‘Theatre’s ready, Sister. Shall Cully and Jessop have their coffee—the others have had theirs.’

  Emma nodded. ‘Yes, Staff, and get yourself a cup and come in here and drink it. You’ll have to scrub and get ready after the first case—it’ll be a long one and they’ll want their coffee after it. I’ll take the first and second and you scrub for the lobectomy, will you?’

  Staff nodded, disappeared and reappeared a minute later with her mug of coffee. ‘Sit down, do,’ said Emma. ‘There are some biscuits in that tin—Jessop and Cully both want the same day off this week, isn’t it tiresome? I wonder if it would help if I offered one of them a weekend? It’s yours too, isn’t it? I shall be all right with one of them, and Mrs Tate’s on with one of the technicians—Bob, isn’t it? Mr Soames is on holiday for a week, too. Let’s have them in and see if we can persuade one of them to change her mind.’

  The promise of a weekend was excellent bait. Cully immediately gave up her claim to Jessop’s days; they went away happy, leaving Emma to do the next two weeks off-duty without any more difficulties. She had just finished when Mr Soames, closely followed by the professor, arrived, and Emma, having wished them a brief good morning, went away to scrub.

  The first case was going to be lengthy; the removal of the outer coat of the heart, thickened by pericarditis—a highly successful operation in the hands of a skilled surgeon, even though full recovery would take some months. The patient was young too, Mr Bone had told her, and had excellent chances of a normal life again. Emma checked her trolleys, laid up the Mayo’s table and started to thread her needles, a task she had just completed when Mr Soames, the professor, Little Willy and Peter Moore came into the theatre and she emptied her mind of every thought save those to do with her work.

  The days slipped one into the other, some overfull, some not so busy, and it was on one of these quieter days that Emma went to the Orthopaedic Ward to see Sister Cox, poking her head round the office door as she entered it to address the Sister sitting at her desk with, ‘Hi, Angie, how’s life?’ and went into the little room to sit on the edge of the desk.

  ‘Lousy,’ said the girl behind the desk. She looked up and smiled as she spoke. ‘I’ve a nurse off sick and I can’t get a replacement.’

  ‘Hard luck. How’s Mad Minnie?’

  Her friend raised blue eyes heavenwards. ‘The worst patient we’ve ever had. It’s a wonder she didn’t do the operation herself. The carry-on we had! She snaps and snarls all day and most of the night, and we’ve got her here for at least another week. Whoever gets her next has my sympathy—however you can work with her, Emma…’

  Emma chuckled. ‘Poor Mad Minnie! You’ve no idea how quiet it is in theatre. Do you know Nurse Jessop was actually singing while she was doing the washdown? and she hasn’t dropped anything for days.’

  ‘I can believe it. Have you come to see Minnie? I’ll give you ten minutes and then put the kettle on. There’s nothing much to do for half an hour—visitors.’

  Emma nodded understandingly. Visitors meant holding up all but the most urgent ward chores, with the consequence that everyone had to hurry a little more after they had gone.

  Sister Cox was in a room to herself, sitting up in bed in a no-nonsense nightgown and looking belligerent.

  ‘So there you are,’ she began, ‘and high time too.’

  Emma offered the flowers she had brought. ‘Hullo, Sister Cox. They asked me not to come until today because you needed a rest. I’m glad to hear everything’s so satisfactory—I hope you’re not feeling too bad.’

  She sat down by the bed and Sister Cox said grumpily,

  ‘I’m perfectly all right. That Sister Emmett—you’re all far too young to be Sisters. In my day we worked at least five years as staff nurses…’ She enlarged upon this topic for some time and Emma made soothing little noises from time to time because it was no use explaining to Mad Minnie that times had changed. At length Sister Cox asked:

  ‘Well, how’s that new man? Rude, I suppose—all foreigners are—and wanting things we haven’t got.’

  ‘No, he’s not rude at all,’ said Emma composedly, ‘nor does he ask for anything we haven’t got. He’s brought some of his own instruments with him anyway. He and Mr Soames get on famously—they’ve had several demonstrations.’

  ‘Huh, tramping housemen all over my theatre!’

  Perhaps, thought Emma, when you’ve been theatre sister for twenty years or more, it became yours; the thought depressed her. She said quickly:

  ‘Oh, no, they haven’t tramped anywhere, only in the gallery, you know.’ She didn’t add that quite a few local doctors had been in too, not to mention a dusting of nurses.

  ‘That man,’ the Theatre Superintendent sounded suspicious, ‘do you like him?’

  ‘Yes,’ Emma got to her feet, ‘as a matter of fact I do. I must fly. I’m on in ten minutes and I mustn’t be late because Staff’s got a train to catch.’

  Sister Cox glared at her. ‘What do you mean? You know very well that you should be off this evening. It’s Friday, isn’t it?’

  ‘And Staff’s weekend—I’ve given her the evening off to add to it.’

  The Theatre Superintendent frowned heavily. ‘Now look here, Sister Hastings, I’ll not have my careful routine altered just because I’m not there to see it carried out. You should…’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ interposed Emma soothingly, ‘but we’re working shorthanded, and Staff’s done more than her share. She deserves a little reward.’

  ‘Oh, well, I suppose you’re right,’ Mad Minnie conceded. ‘She’s not a bad worker.’ She added surprisingly, ‘Come and see me again, Hastings, it’s a bit lonely.’

  Emma went to the door. ‘Yes, of course I’ll come. Can I do anything for you? Shopping? books?’

  ‘Not at present, but next time bring some notes of this man’s work, will you?’ She sounded reluctant. ‘I suppose Mr Soames intends to use his new-fangled methods, though I can’t think why.’

  ‘I’ll bring them along with me when I come tomorrow. ‘Bye, Sister.’

  The older woman smiled reluctantly and Emma waved a small capable hand as she went.

  There was nothing much to do in theatre that evening. Cully was cleaning instruments, the technicians had gone home and the porter was helping out in the Accident Room. Emma sat down at the office desk and started to write out the professor’s techniques and special foibles in her neat handwriting. She had covered a carefully written page when there was a gentle tap on the door and the author of these came in.

  ‘A case?’ asked Emma instantly. She had gone a delicate pink at the sight of him and prayed that it didn’t show—apparently it did not, for the look he gave her was neither long nor searching. He said mildly, ‘No, Mr Soames and I came in to see that first patient.’ He sat himself down on the other side of the desk and went on, ‘What are you writing?’

  Emma explained and he said kindly, ‘So I am giving you a great deal of extra work, am I not? It would be a better idea if I went to see Sister Co
x myself and explain what she wishes to know.’

  Emma gave him a startled look. ‘Well—yes, I suppose so, but I’m not sure…’

  He interrupted her suavely. ‘I am aware that she doesn’t like me. I am a foreigner, am I not? She feels that I have no right to be here with my new-fangled notions. Nevertheless I will pay her a visit.’ He smiled at her. ‘When do you plan to go again?’

  ‘Tomorrow, after I go off duty in the evening.’

  ‘Good—if I may I will come with you.’ He got to his feet and she thought for the hundredth time what a very large man he was.

  ‘Don’t work too hard, Sister Hastings,’ he said as he went, leaving her to do no work at all but sit and think about their conversation. She went over it word for word several times, and finally and a little crossly admitted to herself that he had said nothing at all which she could construe as interest in herself—not even the faintest interest. She told herself that she was being ridiculous, for there was nothing about her to invite his interest in the first place. Emma, not prone to envy, found herself wishing for her sister’s good looks.

  She went off duty presently, ate her supper in the company of the other Sisters, watched TV with them for an hour and then, with the excuse that she had a headache, went early to bed. Contrary to her expectations, she went instantly to sleep.

  She was awakened just before one o’clock by the senior runner—a senior student nurse who filled the urgent spots which occurred on and off all night—who begged her in an urgent voice to get up immediately and take an emergency case in theatre.

  ‘Here’s a cup of tea, Sister,’ said her unwelcome visitor, ‘and Night Super says she’s ever so sorry but Night Theatre Sister’s busy in the main theatre and there isn’t anyone else who can take the case.’

  She looked anxiously at Emma, who was sitting up in bed in a rather beguiling nightie and with her hair streaming round her shoulders, looking quite incapable of taking the cup of tea she was being offered, let alone a case in theatre.

  ‘You did hear me, didn’t you, Sister? I’m going along to the theatre now to put the general set in and get the gowns and gloves—could you manage ten minutes?’

  ‘Make it seven,’ said Emma, gulping tea, ‘and get both autoclaves going.’

  She was as good as her word. She swung the theatre doors open just six and a half minutes later, every button of her neat navy blue dress done up, her cuffs on, her peter-sham belt fastened by its silver clasp, only her hair had been bundled up into a hasty knot under the pristine whiteness of her cap. She was passing the half-open door of the office when she heard the professor say from behind it, ‘In here, Sister.’

  He was sitting in her chair behind the desk, but he got up as she went in and pushed her gently into it. Willy was there too, leaning his length against one wall, wearing the grey slacks and old sweater he reserved for rising at night. The professor, however, had quite obviously not yet been to bed. Emma, eyeing the elegance of his dinner jacket, wondered where he had been and with whom, to have her errant thoughts recalled by his quiet voice.

  ‘I’m sorry we had to get you out of bed, Sister, but the case can’t wait. A man—an attempted suicide. He jumped from a half-finished block of flats somewhere near the harbour. His fall was broken by some railings—miraculously he has only a slight concussion, although his chest injuries are multiple and severe. I’m not even sure what we’re going to find until we have a look.’ He smiled at her and looked at his watch. ‘He’ll be up in fifteen minutes—does that suit you, Sister?’

  Emma was already half-way to the door. She had a great deal to do in that time—she wasn’t going to waste any of it in unnecessary speech. She said ‘Perfectly, sir,’ and started off briskly theatrewards.

  The man was in a bad way, but he was young and strong and had a well-built body; he had three penetrating wounds in his chest which had in some miraculous way missed his heart.

  ‘Double fracture of three ribs,’ observed the professor, ‘with a shift of the mediastinum—air in the pleural cavity and a good deal of free bleeding and I imagine, almost certain lacerations of both lungs.’

  He took the knife Emma was holding ready and asked, ‘Ready, Sister—Lunn? We’ll take a look at that left side first, I think.’ He made a neat, very precise incision and said to Mr Bone, crouching over the patient’s head, ‘Let me know if you’re at all uneasy, old chap,’ and not waiting for an answer, became immediately absorbed in his work.

  Two and a half hours later the patient, minus some pieces of rib and a portion of lung, went back to the ICU. That he would make a good recovery was due to the professor’s patient and meticulous mending and stitching. The men yawned in the empty theatre and dragged off their gloves, then stood patiently while the runner untied their gowns and Emma, already busy clearing her trolley, asked ‘Tea?’ as they made for the door.

  Little Willy paused briefly. ‘Rather! I’ll get it, Emma—we’ll give you a call when it’s ready.’

  She had cleared both trolleys and the Mayo’s table when the professor, still in his theatre shirt and trousers, appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Tea, Emma,’ he said cheerfully, and because he had called her Emma she dropped the forceps she had been counting and was glad of the mask she was still wearing to hide her face. She had to take it off when she left the theatre though, and followed him to the office where Little Willy was waiting, and although she was very tired she had to laugh at the sight of the tea tray. They had used the largest teapot—the one Sister Cox kept for her occasional tea parties of six or more; they had left the saucers off the tray too and there was only one spoon. And instead of the sugar bowl the week’s supply of sugar, in its tin, graced the table, as did the milk bottle. Moreover, there was a plate of sandwiches.

  ‘Wherever did you get those?’ Emma wanted to know.

  It was the professor who answered, ‘One of the nurses on the floor below—she had just prepared her tea, but she kindly offered them to us.’ He smiled a tired, charming smile which she knew would have charmed the patients’ breakfast bread and butter upstairs too if he had so minded. She sat down and accepted a cup of tea while Little Willy spooned sugar into its rich strength and took one of the sandwiches the professor was offering. They munched contentedly for a few minutes, and then, her mind still on the patient, Emma asked, ‘Will he do?’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ the professor lowered his cup, ‘provided we get no pneumonia, sinuses or infection. He’ll have to stay on the machine for a day or two.’

  She nodded. ‘Does anyone know why he did it?’ She was busy pouring second cups.

  The professor’s green eyes rested briefly on hers. ‘He loved a girl who didn’t love him any more; it broke his heart. What is it your John Donne said? “Ah, what a trifle is a heart, if once into love’s hands it comes”.’

  Emma stared back at him. ‘Poor man,’ she said softly, ‘and of course you know the last line—” But after one such love, can love no more”. He must have loved her very much.’

  The green eyes didn’t waver. ‘Men do—most men. A woman—their own particular woman—is so woven into the tapestry of their lives that she can’t be cut out.’

  ‘And the mystery is,’ remarked Little Willy, ‘how the devil she ever gets into it in the first place.’

  They all laughed and Emma put her cup down and stood up. ‘I must go and do the sharps and needles. It’s almost time to get up and I haven’t been to bed yet.’

  ‘Then don’t let us hinder you,’ the professor’s voice was mild and held laughter. ‘Good night, and thank you, Emma.’

  She flew back into the theatre where the senior runner was just finishing the washdown. ‘Go the minute you’re clear, Nurse Appleby,’ said Emma, and fell to work once more, her heart absurdly light because the professor had called her Emma twice within a few hours.

  There was little of the night left for sleep. She got up at her usual time, feeling terrible and promising herself an early night. She would
be off at five; she could see Sister Cox on her way over to the home, make a pot of tea and persuade the Home maid to find some sandwiches, then retire to a hot bath and a long sleep. She had forgotten completely that the professor had invited himself to go with her to visit Sister Cox.

  But if she had forgotten, he had not. At the end of the long day, when the last patient had gone and Staff was back from tea, he suddenly appeared beside her as she hurried through the hospital towards Orthopaedics.

  ‘You forgot,’ he accused gently, and she stopped and looked up at him guiltily. ‘Yes,’ she said contritely, ‘I did—I’m so sorry.’ And in case he felt hurt she added hastily, ‘I should have remembered once I got Mad M—Sister Cox, though.’

  ‘From which remark I take comfort. I’ll be very quick.’

  He was. Presumably he lectured a great deal, for he was brief and concise and very clear. Sister Cox, who would have liked to find some fault with him, was quite unable to do so; within half an hour she was forced to admit that she understood everything he had said perfectly and what was more, she could offer no obstacles to the new techniques being carried out. It was of course for Mr Soames to do as he wished, but she could make life very unpleasant for everyone in the theatre. Emma was astounded to see Mad Minnie smiling at the professor and even agreeing with him, and once she laughed out loud. Emma left with him presently, with Sister Cox’s unexpected invitation to that gentleman to return whenever he wished, ringing in her ears. On the stairs she paused.

  ‘But she doesn’t like anyone, you know—I can’t think what you did.’

  He had stopped beside her. ‘No? Never mind. If you aren’t too tired we’re going out to dinner. I don’t seem to have had a decent meal for quite a time and I daresay you haven’t either. I’ll be outside in half an hour.’