Off With The Old Love Read online

  She was tired after her long day; she was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. It was two o’clock in the morning when a touch on the shoulder sent her upright in bed. The night runner was standing beside her bed, holding a mug of tea and looking anxious.

  ‘Sister, I’m sorry but could you come back on duty? There has been a demonstration, I’m not sure where, and we are admitting. The accident room’s full and Professor van Teule and Mr Jolly and Mr Reeves are there and quite a few patients need surgery.’

  Rachel gulped the tea, wide awake now. ‘Get someone to phone Sidney Carter and get Nurse Walters up, will you please?’ It was no use wanting Norah; she lived out, and, besides, if she was going to be up half the night, Norah would have to take the morning’s list. Rachel dressed with the speed of long practice, plaited her thick rope of hair into a securely pinned bun, rammed her cap on top and sped silently through the hospital to the theatre wing.

  The night runner was there, laying up with the general set, but when she saw Rachel she said breathlessly, ‘Oh, Sister, may I go? They’re up to their eyes downstairs and Night Sister said if you could spare me…’

  ‘Of course. Many thanks for getting started—it’s a great help. Ask Night Sister to let me know what’s coming up first, will you?’

  ‘A very nasty multiple stab wound,’ said the Professor from behind her. ‘God knows what we’ll find once we start looking. George is setting up a drip but time is of the essence. Where are your nurses?’

  ‘Nurse Walters will be here at any moment and I’ve asked them to get hold of Sidney.’

  ‘My dear girl, there are a dozen or more in the accident room—we’ll need both theatres. I’ll be here, Mr Jolly next door and Mr Sims will use the operating room in the accident room.’

  ‘I’ll be here,’ said Rachel calmly, ‘with Sidney and Nurse Walters, junior night Surgical Sister will be with Mr Jolly and I’m sure that night super will rustle up someone for Mr Sims.’ She started to scrub. ‘Norah will be on at eight o’clock. If we’re not finished she can take over, and there will be two student nurses and the little junior on at half past seven.’

  ‘Nicely organised.’ He smiled faintly. ‘What a pity you can’t organise your own life as efficiently, Rachel.’ Before she could do more than open her indignant mouth, he was leaving. ‘I’ll be up in ten minutes,’ he told her over one shoulder.

  Nurse Walters came then, pop-eyed with the excitement of being got out of bed in the middle of the night but anxious to play her part. Rachel left her to the manifold tasks around the theatre, and got herself gowned and masked and gloved. She had her trolleys and Mayo table laid up by the time the patient arrived with Dr Carr and a moment later Sidney came quietly in with a laconic, ‘Hi, Sister, here’s a fine thing. Two o’clock in the morning, too—they ought to know better, getting honest folk out of their beds. What’s coming up first?’

  Rachel told him as he began to assemble the equipment the Professor might call for, checked her swabs and stood patiently until the Professor with Billy joined them.

  ‘Ready, Sister?’ he asked quietly, and then, ‘George will come up presently; he’s got his hands full downstairs for the moment. The next case is a man with a ruptured kidney.’

  He waited while Billy arranged the sterile towels and sheet over the patient and then put out his hand for a scalpel. It was some time later, when he had found and assessed the damage and begun to repair it, that he observed, ‘I’ve asked for some of the day staff to be called on duty at six o’clock—your nurses among them, Sister—no objections?’

  ‘None, sir—thank you for thinking of it.’ She passed Billy the intestinal retractor, nodded to Nurse Walters to count swabs, and cast an eye over her trolleys. There was no one to lay up for the next patient, of course; there would be a delay while she cleared theatre with Nurse Walters’s help and laid up again. Sidney would help, of course, but they would be a bit pushed. It was almost four o’clock when the Professor took off his gloves and prepared to leave the theatre.

  ‘Finish off, Billy, will you? Sister, I’m going downstairs to see what’s happening. Ten minutes?’

  She nodded. Nurse Walters was already clearing; Rachel’s painstaking instructing was paying off. She helped Billy with the dressings and wheeled her trolleys to one side as the porters came in to take the patient to the intensive care unit. Dr Carr went too and so did Billy, and she and Sidney and Nurse Walters began to clear and presently to lay up once more.

  The Professor did a nephrectomy on the next patient since it was hopeless to do anything else. The man was young and looked healthy and there was no reason why he shouldn’t make a good recovery.

  ‘Another multiple stab wound coming up,’ the Professor told her towards the end of the operation. ‘A teenager—he’s in a pretty poor state. Can you cope or would you like a rest until the day staff come on?’

  ‘I’m not tired,’ said Rachel, uttering the lie loudly to make it sound more convincing. ‘Do you want a break, sir?’

  ‘After this next case. George will be up presently and Billy can go down and do some stitching.’ He glanced over at the young man. ‘You’ve done very well, Bill—thanks.’

  It wasn’t possible to see Billy’s gratified face, but they could all see the way he flung out his chest. Just like the Professor, thought Rachel, to remember, even when up to his eyebrows in work, to give credit where it was due.

  The Professor took infinite pains with the boy; he had been severely wounded and lost a lot of blood, but, as the Professor pointed out to George, the lad was young and although undernourished had a good chance of recovery. ‘I shall want him on strict observations, though; see to it, George, will you?’ He busied himself with tubing and some meticulous stitching and presently cast down his instruments on to the Mayo table. ‘He should do now.’

  He glanced at the clock. ‘Seven o’clock—we’ll break for half an hour, Sister.’ He looked around him. ‘Ah, reinforcements, I see.’

  They had been there for the last hour but he had been too engrossed to notice that. Nurse Walters had slipped away in response to a nod from Rachel and Nurse Saunders had taken her place with Nurse Smithers hovering in the background. Rachel asked, ‘What comes up next, sir?’

  ‘An internal haemorrhage, but we don’t know why at the moment. Put out everything we’ve got, will you?’ He glanced at her, seeing her tired eyes above the mask. ‘But you will have breakfast first, Sister.’

  She was only too glad to obey him. Norah, always punctual, had come on duty earlier than usual. Rachel handed over to her with a thankful sigh and went down to the canteen, more than thankful to see that Dolly, apprised of the situation by a friend of hers on night duty, had arrived and gone straight to the theatre kitchen to make tea and cut sandwiches. Rachel told Norah to let each nurse in turn have ten minutes for refreshments and warn Dolly that, once they started again, the surgeons would most certainly need something to keep them going.

  The canteen was crowded with night staff eating breakfast, day nurses gobbling down a quick meal before going on duty and a sprinkling of nursing staff who, like Rachel, had been got out of their beds during the night. Rachel sank down beside Lucy and one of the canteen staff brought over a pot of tea. ‘And I’ll bring you a nice boiled egg and a bit of toast, Sister,’ she promised. ‘Still busy are you with them poor wounded?’ She added with relish, ‘They tell me they’re swimming in blood downstairs.’

  ‘You shouldn’t believe all you hear, Ida,’ said Rachel. ‘It doesn’t say much for the hospital staff, does it? Someone has been pulling your leg.’

  Ida looked disappointed, so she added kindly, ‘But it’s very busy in the accident room and we shall be operating for the rest of the day.’

  Ida went to fetch the egg and toast and Rachel gave Lucy a tired grin. ‘How are things down below?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, not quite as bad as our Ida would wish, but bad enough and you’re right, you’ll be up to your eyes for hours.’


  She was right, of course. Rachel couldn’t remember such a day; they worked steadily, stopping briefly for coffee and sandwiches. She lost count of time as the day wore on, concentrating on keeping the theatre going without any hitches. She and Norah took over from each other at intervals so that one scrubbed while the other laid up for the next case and then changed over, and with the three nurses on duty as well as Sidney it was possible to send them off for short spells. But the Professor seemed tireless, going ahead with each case with the relaxed air of a man who had slept well and with nothing of an urgent manner to bother him.

  The night staff came on early just as the very last case was being wheeled away and, reinforced by extra nurses, they took over at once. Rachel was loath to leave without clearing the theatres, but the night superintendent made it clear that for once she would be overruled. Norah was sent home, the nurses went eagerly to the supper being kept for them and Rachel went to her office. Even if she didn’t stay to see that the theatres were closed she still had the books to do. She sat down and pulled them towards her and began to write in her neat hand. She had a good memory, but tonight she was tired and sat frowning, trying to remember the second case. It alarmed her rather that she hadn’t an inkling; what was more, the rest of the cases were getting more vague by the minute. She glanced up wearily as the door opened and Professor van Teule came in. He had said goodnight and thanked them all and gone away half an hour earlier and now she cried, ‘Oh, not another case…’

  He shook his head. ‘No. Isn’t there anyone else to do that for you?’ And when she shook her head, ‘I’ve brought the case sheets along—you can get the names and what was done from them.’

  She was so grateful that she could have wept. ‘I’ll take them back to the wards as soon as I’m finished. Thank you very much, Professor.’

  He didn’t answer but pulled up the second chair and sat himself down on to its flimsy structure. ‘I’ll read out the names and details, you do the writing.’ He didn’t give her time to protest, but began at once so that she had to start writing as fast as she could.

  When they had finished he collected the case sheets and stood up. ‘Now go and eat your supper and go to bed, Rachel. Are you on duty in the morning?’

  She nodded. ‘But I’ll be fine after I’ve had a good night’s sleep.’ She smiled at him faintly, looking very tired. ‘I must go and see Night Staff Nurse, then I’ll go.’

  He opened the door for her and she went along to the theatre with a quiet goodnight. He had worked them all hard all day but he had worked twice as hard himself and he had thanked them and bothered to bring the case sheets. He really was a kind man; she couldn’t work for a better one. She conferred with the staff nurse, said goodnight and left the theatre wing.

  There was still a good deal of activity in the hospital but she didn’t heed the various sounds around her. She wouldn’t have supper, she decided as she reached the hall, but would go to bed at once. She was halfway across the wide entrance hall when she saw Melville standing there. She stopped and he came striding towards her, arms outstretched.

  ‘There you are at last. The porter said he thought you would be off duty at any moment—I’ve only been waiting ten minutes or so. I’ve a rather special evening planned for us, darling—go and put on something pretty. You can have ten minutes…’

  She looked at him dully. ‘I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Nonsense—bed at nine o’clock in the evening? That’s for old folk.’

  ‘I’m tired.’ It was too much trouble to explain and surely he must have heard about the rioting and the casualties.

  He frowned. ‘Well, so am I. I’ve had a hectic day but I don’t moan about it.’

  She wasn’t listening. ‘I’m tired,’ she said again, and saw him look over her shoulder, his frown deepening.

  The Professor had joined them, his vast person unseen and unheard. He said pleasantly. ‘Good evening, Mr Grant. Sister Downing has been working since two o’clock this morning with scarcely a break. She is tired. Bed is the best place for her. Very hard luck on you, Mr Grant, but I’m sure that you understand.’

  ‘An hour or two away from this gloomy place in cheerful company will soon put her on her feet. Rachel?’

  She didn’t speak; she couldn’t be bothered. Besides, the Professor was there, doing the talking for her.

  Now he shook his head slowly. ‘I’m afraid she’s rather past that. She’s asleep on her feet. Look for yourself.’ There was something in his voice which made Melville study her properly. Her face was as white as her cap and, of course, her dark blue cotton uniform didn’t do much for her. Her hair was untidy, too. He said sulkily, ‘I can’t see what business it is of yours.’

  The Professor’s voice was genial. ‘My dear fellow, Sister Downing is responsible for the management of the theatre wing, its staff, its equipment and so forth. She assists me and my registrar and the three other consultant surgeons. She needs to be one hundred per cent fit and on her toes. At the moment she is on her knees. If she doesn’t get to bed soon she will be flat on her face—something to be avoided at all costs. I’m sure that you will agree with me?’

  While he had been speaking he had moved between Rachel and Melville and the latter found himself being edged neatly towards the door which, when he reached it, the Professor politely opened for him. ‘I know you will understand.’ The voice was still genial but very firm. ‘Goodnight, my dear chap.’

  He followed Melville outside and stood on the steps watching him get into his car and drive away, and then he went back inside to where Rachel was standing exactly where he had left her.

  He put a hand on her arm, nodded to the interested porter in his box, and towed her outside, across the forecourt to where the Rolls was parked. The cool air of the April evening revived her a little, but when she began uncertainly, ‘Why…’ he hushed her soothingly. ‘I’m taking you to have a meal—you won’t sleep on an empty stomach.’

  ‘I’d rather go to bed.’

  ‘And so you shall. You shall be back here and in bed by ten o’clock.’

  He stuffed her into the car, got in beside her and drove out into the street, and she sat back without arguing. He had said ten o’clock and she knew him well enough to know that he did what he said.

  He was driving west through the city, using side streets, and presently she stopped wondering where they were going, noticing only that they had reached quiet streets, lined by town houses of some size. He stopped at length and when he got out and went round and opened her door she got out, too. They were in a narrow street, quiet too, lined by tall narrow houses. It was dusk by now and there were lighted windows and trees at the pavement’s edge, so that London seemed very far away even though they were in the heart of it. The Professor took her arm and urged her up shallow steps to a black painted door. There were orange tulips in the window boxes on either side of it and she said, ‘Of course, you live here…’

  ‘Of course I do’. The door opened and, obedient to his hand, she went inside.

  The hall was long and narrow with a staircase at one side and doors to left and right. As they went in, the door behind the staircase opened and a thin elderly man came briskly towards them.

  ‘Ah, Bodkin,’ said the Professor, ‘I have brought Sister Downing back for supper; she has been on her feet since two o’clock this morning and she’s very tired. Could Mrs Bodkin find something light? Soup and an omelette perhaps? As quickly as possible?’

  Bodkin inclined his grey head. ‘Certainly, sir. Give her ten minutes. If you will go into the drawing room…’ He opened a door and Rachel went into the room beyond. A very pleasant room, large and comfortably furnished and softly lighted. She said matter-of-factly, ‘If I sit down I’ll never get up.’

  For answer the Professor pushed her gently into an easy chair and bent down and took her cap off, smoothed her untidy hair back from her forehead and observed, ‘That’s better. Don’t worry, I won’t let you go to sleep.’ He moved a
way and came back in a moment with a glass. ‘Drink this, it will wake you up just enough for you to enjoy your supper.’

  Which it did. Within minutes Bodkin ushered them into a room on the other side of the hall—smaller but just as charmingly furnished as the drawing-room—and this time they had company: a labrador, who came in with Bodkin and the soup, greeted his master, inspected Rachel and went to sit by the log fire while they ate. They talked little as they had their soup, and after the first few spoonfuls Rachel discovered that she was hungry after all, so that she was able to polish off the omelette with a good appetite, and the caramel cream which followed it. She was given lemonade to drink although the Professor had lager, which, he explained, might make her wake up too thoroughly, and presently, when they had finished, Bodkin, who had served them in a fatherly way, asked her if there was anything else she fancied, for Mrs Bodkin would be only too glad to get it for her.

  Rachel thanked him and said no, but would he thank Mrs Bodkin for her delicious supper, and when she had done that, the Professor made no attempt to keep her there; she found herself back in the car being driven through the now quiet streets. Once at the hospital he got out again and walked her through the entrance hall to the door leading to the nurses’ home.

  ‘You will go straight to bed, Rachel,’ he told her. ‘There’s a list in the morning and I want you on duty.’

  She gave him an owl-like look from sleepy eyes. ‘I’ll be there, sir. And thank you.’ It struck her then that he was as tired as she was—his face held lines she had never seen before—and he had never said so. She put out an impulsive hand and touched his sleeve. ‘You’ve been so kind, and you need to go to bed and sleep even more than I do.’

  He smiled a little. ‘Sound advice, Rachel—I shall take it.’ He opened the door and when she went past him she heard the door close again immediately. It seemed a long way to her room but she reached it at last, undressed, washed her face and fell into bed. Lucy, coming in a few minutes later to see if she was back, found her fast asleep, and crept out again.