A Star Looks Down Read online

  on--that should suit us all.

  ' "Well, I don't know--will you be able to manage?

  ' "Oh, don't worry about it, love.

  We'll get that old soul in the basement to come up and clean the place

  and do most of our eating in the hospital--of course we'll manage.

  I'll give him a ring now, if you like.

  ' It wasn't a bad idea, in fact it was wonderfully convenient.

  It was more than likely that the place would be in a frightful state

  when she got back, but William would have company, and over and above

  that, two more weeks at the princely salary she was receiving would

  mean more than a pair of shoes for William--he would be able to have a

  good deal more than that, and so would she.

  "OK," she said finally, and listened while he talked into the

  telephone.

  When he put it down he said cheerfully: "Dobson's no end pleased, he'll

  move in when I give the word.

  Will you be coming back to the flat before you leave?

  ' That was something else she hadn't thought about; really, the profess

  or had given her no time to consider anything.

  "I don't know, but I'll have to ask for some time off--I'll need some

  more clothes.

  ' "Well, let me know.

  I'll.

  .

  ' He was interrupted by the sing-song wail of the ambulance,

  approaching fast.

  "Ah, the evening session-be seeing you, Bern.

  ' She went through the department and out the other end, so as to avoid

  the patient's arrival; it meant trailing through Outpatients to reach

  the hospital entrance through a long, dreary passage, seldom used once

  OPD had closed down for the night; it had hard wooden benches set at

  intervals, to take the overflow from the various clinics, each one in

  an alcove between the row of tall narrow windows.

  It was getting towards dusk by now and no one had switched on the

  lights; to anyone strange to St Elmer's, it might have presented a

  somewhat cheerless aspect, but Beth took no notice of it; she knew

  every inch of it by heart and could have walked it blindfold.

  She was half-way along it when her eye fell on someone sitting on one

  of the benches.

  It lay in shadow and until she went closer she was unable to see

  whether it was a man or a woman.

  It was a girl, quite young--fifteen or sixteen, she supposed, huddled

  up and greenish white, her eyes closed.

  Beth bent over her, feeling her pulse, which was far too rapid, then

  spoke to her gently.

  It was a few seconds before the girl opened her eyes.

  "I gotta pain," she said dully.

  "Yes, dear--could you tell me where it is?

  ' The stomach.

  ' The girl wasterribly pale, so pale that Beth cast a searching eye

  around her; patients with stab wounds looked like that, so did ruptured

  ulcers, only that wasn't likely to be the case here.

  "Have you had an accident?

  ' she asked.

  "No--just got this pain--proper awful it is too.

  ' "I'm going to find a doctor.

  Will you stay here?

  I'll only be a minute or so.

  Did you think this was Casualty?

  ' The girl gave her a dull stare.

  "Came 'ere ter sit down.

  Don't be long, will your?

  ' And she added in a frightened whisper: "I think I'm goin' to die.

  ' "No, you're not.

  I'm a nurse even though I'm not in uniform.

  ' Beth gave her a reassuring pat and with a last injunction to sit

  quiet until she got back, hurried away.

  It was quicker to go straight to the entrance hall now; the porter

  could get a doctor and a stretcher at the same time.

  She burst into it now and the first person she saw was the profess or,

  standing idly by the entrance.

  He turned as she reached his side and began without preliminary:

  "There's a girl her voice was urgent but not panicky.

  "She's sitting in the corridor behind OPD.

  She's pallid and in great pain abdominal, her pulse is rapid and

  weak.

  She says she hasn't had an accident and I couldn't see any signs of a

  wound.

  ' He took her hand and said in a calm voice.

  "We'll take a look, shall we?

  Which way?

  ' The girl was still there, moaning now; when she saw them she

  whispered: "Pain's awful is this the doc?

  ' Beth nodded and flew to turn on the lights, bleak glass-shaded

  pendants which allowed them a better sight of the girl.

  The profess or was already bending over her and said almost

  immediately: "Get porters and a trolley, Beth tell Hill to get Profess

  or Mac Donald's registrar he's on the surgical side.

  I've just been there with him ask him to go to Casualty.

  ' She wasted no time and when she got back from giving her messages the

  porters were already there, about to wheel the girl into Casualty.

  She went too, not quite knowing what to do, and it was a good thing

  that she did; Harriet King had her hands full with a road accident and

  William was scrubbing up at one of the sinks.

  The profess or took in the situation at a glance; he murmured briefly

  to William and then looked over his shoulder at Beth.

  "Perhaps we could manage until Staff Nurse is free?

  ' he suggested.

  "If you would get some clothes off her and find out her name and

  address.

  ' He turned back to William and Beth told the porters to put the

  trolley in one of the curtained cubicles and began to get her patient

  undressed.

  A difficult job; the girl was in great pain and never still, but even

  more difficult was the task of finding out her name and where she

  lived.

  She was ready for examination, wrapped carefully in a blanket, before

  Beth was able to discover that she was Tracey Blake and that she lived

  at number twenty, Melscham Road, one of the dingy streets only a few

  minutes from the hospital.

  "I feel awful," she muttered as Beth put her head round the curtains to

  say that she was ready and then went back to hold the girl's cold

  hand.

  The registrar had arrived by now and had joined the profess or in his

  examination of the patient.

  The two men were very gentle as well as thorough; at length the profess

  or straightened his back and looked across to his colleague.

  "It's an ectopic--a classical example of internal bleeding, pallor,

  severe pain.

  ' He raised his eyebrows in mute inquiry and added: "Straight away,

  don't you think?

  We'll have to have a cross-match--theatre in fifteen minutes?

  Could you arrange it?

  ' The registrar hurried away and the profess or turned to the girl.

  "Tracey, we can get rid of that pain for you, but we shall have to

  operate in just a short time.

  You won't know anything about it and when it's all over and you wake

  up, the pain will be gone.

  ' "Promise?

  ' "Oh, yes, I promise.

  How old are you?

  ' "Fifteen.

  ' He glanced round to where Beth was standing.

  "Miss Partridge, get the Path Lab here for a cross-match, will you, and

/>   tell Hill to get whichever anaesthetist is on call, and someone must

  contact her parents so that we can have a consent form.

  ' "T'll go," said Beth.

  ' I know where she lives and it's close by, I can be back in ten

  minutes.

  I'll give your messages to Hill on the way out.

  ' She hurried through the drab streets, wondering as she went why the

  profess or called her Beth at one moment and Miss Partridge at the

  next; she could think of no satisfactory answer, though, and there was

  really no time.

  .

  She found number twenty without difficulty and banged on its shabby

  door.

  The woman who answered it didn't look too friendly, but then, Beth

  acknowledged silently, if she lived in a place like Melscham Road, she

  wouldn't be all that forthcoming to strangers herself.

  She asked in her pleasant voice: "Mrs Blake?

  You have a daughter called Tracey?

  ' The woman stared at her.

  "S'right.

  ' "Well, I'm sorry to tell you that she's at St Elmer's; she came to

  get help for a pain and she requires an urgent operation.

  Would you come back with me and sign a consent form?

  ' The woman showed neither surprise or distress.

  "Now wot's she bin up to?

  ' she demanded.

  "Perfect little 'orror that girl's bin, always on the streets.

  I can't come.

  ' "Then your husband?

  It will only take a few minutes.

  ' "E's in the pub, your won't get 'im ter go.

  ' Beth paused; they had been joined by the neighbours living on either

  side, listening unashamedly and with great interest.

  "Tracey ill, is she?

  ' cried one of them.

  "Wot's she got?

  ' Beth sensed an ally.

  "Something wrong inside, it's urgent.

  .

  ' "Your got ter go," urged the second woman, 'praps she'll die and then

  where'll your be?

  Up before the beak, most likely--lot o' nosey parkers.

  You go along, Mrs Blake, I'll keep an eye on young Bert and Elsie.

  ' She cast an inquiring eye over Beth.

  "And 'oo are you?

  ' she wanted to know.

  "A Staff nurse at St Elmer's--there wasn't time to ring the police and

  get them to bring a message.

  ' "There your are--you get a move on, Mrs Blake, like I said, and one

  of us'll slip across ter the Swan and tell your 'us band.

  ' "Oh, well," Mrs Blake agreed reluctantly, and with still more

  reluctance fetched a shapeless cardigan and a terrible felt hat which

  she crammed on to her untidy head without recourse to a mirror.

  "Tope it's worth it," she told Beth darkly as she joined her.

  Tracey was still in Casualty with Harriet King, being got ready for

  theatre, and there was no sign of either the profess or or the

  registrar, or even William, a state of affairs which didn't please Mrs

  Blake at all.

  She took one look at her daughter, wanted to know impatiently what

  she'd been up to, and demanded to see a doctor, and Beth, who had been

  filling out the consent form for her to sign and listening with one ear

  to Emily's efforts to explain that the Casualty Officer would return in

  a very short time, picked up the telephone and asked Hill to fetch

  Profess or van Zeust or his registrar down at once.

  The profess or came, walking without undue haste, looking calm and a

  little grave, just, thought Beth approvingly, exactly how a profess or

  of surgery should look.

  Mrs Blake must have shared the same thought, for she stopped her

  complaining at once and waited for him to speak.

  "Mrs Blake?

  I am glad that you came so promptly, I am only sorry if this has been a

  shock to you.

  Tracey needs an immediate abdominal operation, I'm afraid, but of

  course we can do nothing until you or her father will consent to it.

  ' "Wot's up wither

  ' asked Mrs Blake, and added uncertainly,

  "Doc.

  ' "She is bleeding severely inside; she had already lost a good deal of

  blood and we cannot afford to wait, but I am confident that we can put

  matters right if we see to it now.

  ' "OK But mind you.

  Doc, I want ter know all about it.

  Is it a baby?

  ' He looked at her gravely.

  "Something of that sort.

  If you will wait here I will come and talk to you about it as soon as I

  have operated.

  ' "Ow long's that?" His calm was unruffled. "An hour. You will be

  able to see her when she goes to the ward." "Oh--so I 'aster wait

  'ere, I suppose?"

  His eyes flickered towards Beth. "Please, and I am sure that Staff

  Nurse will keep you company and get you some tea. You have signed the

  form?" He went away without another glance at Beth, who supposed that

  he had forgotten that she wasn't on duty, nor in uniform, nor, for that

  matter, had anything to do with the affair; she had found the girl, it

  was true, but she had handed her over to the right people and should

  have been allowed to disappear quietly about her own business. Oh,

  well, she thought resignedly, she had had nothing to do that evening,

  anyway.

  The hour passed very slowly.

  Mrs Blake, drinking one cup of tea after another, and smoking

  cigarettes non-stop, spoke very little.

  Beth, under the mistaken impression that she was upset about her

  daughter, tried several lines of cheerful sympathetic talk without much

  result; it wasn't until she had ploughed her way through half an hour

  of this kind of comfort that Mrs Blake horrified her by saying: "Don't

  come the soft chat with me, ducks, our Tracey 'asn't bin 'ome for

  weeks--always was a little nuisance, I can tell your.

  There ain't no love lost between us, I can tell your and 'er dad don't

  bother wither neither.

  ' This forthright statement had the effect of drying up Beth

  completely; she fetched another cup of tea and was profoundly relieved

  when the profess or joined them.

  "I'm sorry you have had to wait," he told Mrs Blake, 'but if we might

  have that little talk about Tracey.

  .

  .

  ' He paused and Beth rightly interpreted the pause as a hint for her to

  make herself scarce.

  As she reached the door he called out to her: "Get Hill to telephone

  home and tell Mrs Silver, will you?

  About half an hour.

  ' She gave the message and then wandered about the empty grandeur of

  the entrance hall.

  She didn't like to go to Cas.

  to see if William was there; besides, if he was, he would be busy and

  she wouldn't be able to talk to him, and if he wasn't there, she hadn't

  the least idea where he might be.

  She paced round and round, wanting her dinner, wanting to get away from

  the hospital and the chain smoking, unfeeling Mrs Blake; it was

  frightening to know that there were mothers like her, and still more

  frightening wondering what would happen to Tracey.

  Her head began to ache and she went and leaned her forehead on the

  glass of the door to cool it.

  "Ah, there you are," said the p
rofess or cheerfully, coming up behind

  her at such a great rate that she had no time to turn round, but was

  swept through the doors without further ado and into the car, and was

  being driven away before she could ask: "She's all right?

  She'll pull through?

  ' "Yes--we caught her just in time--thanks to you, dear girl.

  ' His voice was warm, but she sensed that he didn't want to talk just

  then, so she sat silent as he drove through the thinly trafficked