Nurse Trudie is Engaged Read online

  “I’ve never known him to ask for a particular nurse before,” Mary said wonderingly. “You must have made an impression this morning. What did you do? You couldn’t have fainted. Clarice Cole tried that, and all he did was order them to carry her out to recover.”

  “I didn’t do anything ... except my duty to the best of my ability.” Trudie felt her words sounded prim and self-conscious, but Mary was too inquisitive to be critical.

  “Duty!” she scoffed. “That’s an outmoded word, even in a place like this. We’re all doing a job. We just happen to be nurses. But you could say anyone doing their own job ‘to the best of their ability,’ whether it’s typing, teaching, or anything else is doing their duty. No,” she shook her curly head, “I’m not standing for that as an explanation as to why he singled you out, Hislop, and that’s a fact. There must have been something more.”

  “There wasn’t,” Trudie said honestly. “I just tried to think what instrument he’d be likely to need next, what the next stages of the operation would be ... things like that. I suppose I made some lucky guesses. Anyhow, he seemed pleased. He thanked me for my help when he’d finished—”

  “He what?” Mary sat upright on her bed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing before,” she said in tones of great bewilderment. “Do you think he’s fallen for you?” she ended abruptly in a tone of awe.

  “Don’t be so silly.” Trudie’s tone was light, although her heart had begun to hammer at an alarming rate, and the little pulse at the base of her throat was beating as if fired by a motor. “He’s not the type. He doesn’t see nurses as people,” she went on thoughtfully. “I don’t believe he even sees women that way. We’re just an appendage to the work he has to do, a necessary part of the completion. Women themselves,” she was speaking more to herself than to Mary, “don’t appear to exist for him. I expect that’s because he’s had so little to do with them.”

  “How do you mean?” Mary was curious. “He sees plenty of them around every day. There are hundreds in St. Catherine’s alone.”

  “Sister Meredith was talking about him once,” Trudie said thoughtfully. “It’s some time ago now, and she wasn’t talking to me, but I’ve always remembered the conversation. It seemed to explain such a lot about him.”

  “Such as?” Mary demanded. “Really, the way you tell a story, it’s a good job you don’t have to make your living at it! What is the explanation, and why should he be so different from other men? All the other doctors and specialists are friendly. That’s not the word I want—he’s friendly enough, but it’s in such an impersonal sort of way, as though the rest of us were just part of the equipment, not people at all—”

  “I know,” Trudie interrupted. “It seems he sort of ... uses us, as he does the instruments, the oxygen unit, the rest of the works. I know exactly what you mean, and that’s what I’m trying to explain. His mother died when he was very young. His father and his uncle were both surgeons in partnership together. They brought him up in an all-male household, so Sister Meredith said. He went away to school, on to university, on to medical school and all the rest of it, but the atmosphere was mainly male. I think,” she ended with a sudden flash of insight, “he’s scared of women and the only defense he has is to treat us all as part of the hospital, nothing more.”

  “Well, rather you than me.” Mary sighed and rose. “I’m due in Casualty in three minutes. Thank heaven for Doctor Stark!” she ended piously.

  Trudie laughed. Doctor Andrew Stark was a young houseman, new to St. Catherine’s, who had, apparently, set many hearts awhirl. Mary was the current favorite, and apparently, Trudie realized, enjoying the sensation.

  “Don’t you go falling for his lordship,” Mary advised, turning at the door. “Better to stick to types like Andrew, at least we know where we are with them. Have a good week,” she ended. Then the door closed behind her and Trudie was left alone with her thoughts.

  For a few minutes Trudie made no move. She was thinking how much of life was a game of pretense and wondering if other people found the same thing. As far back as she could remember there had always been something to pretend to other people. At school she had always pretended she did not mind when other people did better than she did, when she longed so passionately to outshine others and prove to herself and the family that girls were every bit as good as boys.

  She had had to pretend that she did not mind being the only girl among four brothers. Although they loved her and always included her in whatever they were doing, she had been well aware that at times her sex was a handicap; and there were limits to which she could be included in some of their excursions and adventures.

  “Garth always understood,” she remembered with the pang that always assailed her when she thought of her twin. “He never left me out of anything ... only that last year of his life—” She shut her mind against thoughts of that year deliberately. It was better not to think of that, to wonder what sort of girl his unknown wife was, where and how he had met her, whether or not she had really made him happy.

  They had all been so thrilled and pleased when Garth had won the scholarship to do research at the famous Zimbuck Clinic in the United States. Her father had been pleased and proud, full of advice and suggestions, anxious that the younger man should take every advantage of the opportunity offered. Thrilled for him they had followed Garth’s letters as a family, noting the details and observing the possibilities. They had rejoiced together when he had written that he was to be married, saying only that his wife-to-be was in show business—“an actress.” Garth had said very little about her except that she was so beautiful she “has to be seen to be believed,” and that he was the envy of every man in the clinic “and of a number of others who have no connection here.” After that first letter he had written little about Veronica, except that she still worked “when she felt bored sitting around waiting until I have time to spend with her” and used her stage name, Veronica Fleet, whenever she had a public engagement. There had been nothing in his letters to her father and the family in general to make them uneasy, but, on her birthday—his own birthday, too—Garth had written separately to Trudie. In the letter had been one or two lines she had never forgotten:

  Veronica doesn’t have an easy time of it. I’ve told you how lovely she is. Naturally that makes for a great deal of jealousy and envy among the women, and a lot of the men think it their duty to amuse a wife whose husband is always so busy, studying and working. Thank heaven she knows how much it means to both of us for me to get the most out of this scholarship, and we’re able to laugh together at these things and these presumptuous people.

  And then had come that fatal vacation, when he and Veronica had gone on an outdoors holiday, up into the mountains to a cabin belonging to one of Veronica’s friends.

  There had been only the shock of the brief cable from Veronica stating that Garth had been killed in a “shooting accident” at the cabin. Doctor Hislop had cabled, written and telephoned, but could receive no definite satisfaction. Only that verdict of “death by misadventure” had been recorded and Garth’s body now lay buried in Pine Cone Springs, wherever that might be.

  Doctor Hislop had written to Garth’s widow, offering her a home with them until she had recovered from the shock, but they had received merely a brief letter of thanks and a regret that “at the moment” it was not possible to leave her unfulfilled commitments. Both Trudie and her father had written during the following year, but each time the replies had been brief and stilted, baffling them.

  “And all the time,” Trudie’s thoughts ran back to where they had started, “we go on pretending, pretending that everything’s the same, almost pretending he’ll be returning.” They imagined that nothing had changed because Garth didn’t exist any more. They had no more knowledge of that last year of his life than on the day he had been driven to the airport and had flown away from them all to the new life they had had no part in.

  “And now I’m pretending again,” Trudie sighed as the
realization struck her. “I’m pretending I’m not thrilled because Philip Malham asked for me this afternoon and remembered how hard I tried to help and please him this morning. I have to pretend I’m just flattered by the honor and not let anyone know how much it really means to me, least of all Philip himself. The others would tease me unbearably if they knew. They all think I’m too ‘dedicated’ for him or any other man to matter. If the truth were known, I’d cut off my right hand if it would help him in any way.”

  She turned and began to check her case, making certain she had everything and all was tidy and in apple-pie order before she took her leave. Anything to keep her thoughts busy instead of thinking about Philip Malham; about the way his dark brown hair sprang back off his high forehead, his way of frowning a little that brought a faint line between his fine gray eyes when he was concentrating. She remembered too the quick flashes of temper, abruptly brought under firm and complete control, whenever something happened that did not please him.

  “And soon he’ll be gone.” Trudie sighed and regarded herself in the mirror above the dressing-table shelf. “Soon he’ll be at the new hospital at Thrackwaite, and I probably won’t ever see him again.” The thought was a bleak one, and she regarded her reflection soberly. Unlike most of the nurses she said very little about Philip Malham whenever his name had cropped up in conversation. What she felt about him could not easily be put into light, teasing conversation. To her he was a being apart, and Trudie knew that she would have been happy and contented just to go on working close to him, acting under his orders, with no more reward than a few words of praise for the rest of her life.

  Her musings were cut short by a tap on the door and Brenda Smith, a student nurse, appeared in the doorway.

  “Matron says will you please call in at her office on your way to the bus, Staff,” she said briefly. “She thought you would be ready to leave by now.”

  “I’m just on my way,” Trudie smiled. “Thanks. I hope there’s nothing wrong or that I’ve forgotten anything...”

  She could not think of anything she could possibly have done to merit a summons to Matron’s office. All the same her heart was beating a little faster than usual. Matron looked up with a smile and lifted her glance from the sheaf of notes she held in her hand. Trudie’s own heart lifted. There couldn’t be anything wrong after all, not when Matron was smiling like that!

  “Ah, Nurse Hislop,” Matron began, consulting her notes again, “I wanted to see you before you left. You will be pleased to hear that Dr. Malham has asked if you would care to join him in the new extension hospital at Thrackwaite. I am sure I do not have to tell you what an honor it is that he should ask for you, or to tell you that your work has impressed him. In confidence, you are the only nurse he has especially asked to have transferred there. I am certain you will appreciate how much I expect you to maintain your high standards and to remember it was because of them that you were chosen.”

  “I ... it’s marvelous.” Trudie thought how inadequate words were when one wanted to sing, shout, and announce that bells were ringing in her heart unheard by anyone else. Her whole being was aflame with the knowledge that she would not be saying goodbye to Philip when he left St. Catherine’s. She would go on to a new life at the extension, the only one used to his ways, able to make the way smooth for him.

  “I take it you would like to go, then?” Matron inquired, smiling again. “You have no objections? You will still be under my command, naturally, but working for Dr. Malham.”

  “Of course I’ve no objections,” Trudie began, and then blushed. “I mean ... I appreciate the honor, Matron, and I’m very grateful. I shall do my best to live up to your expectations.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Matron said gravely and turned back to her desk as though in dismissal. As Trudie rose to leave she was halted by Matron’s next words, “There is just one small point, Nurse,” she went on briskly. “You have three weeks vacation due to you. You were to take one week as of today. Would you care to take the three together, then you will not return here but start at the extension, which will be open to the public two days later.”

  “I’m very grateful, Matron,” Trudie murmured. “Thank you.” Her feet seemed to have wings as she sped down the corridor, careful not to run despite her hurry. Her bus would be due at the stop outside the hospital in a few minutes and there would be a long wait for the next one. Trudie was anxious to get home and tell her father and brothers the news.

  “I can’t think why,” she mused as she took her place at the bus stop. “I’m not such an outstanding nurse, not according to Sister Meredith, anyhow.”

  All the same, the thrill was there, and she had been offered a transfer that, she felt, might well change her whole life, though she could not possibly imagine how.

  “I’m not getting any silly ideas about this,” she told herself firmly. “It’s only because I had some lucky breaks in the operating room this morning. If I’d made some error, passed a wrong instrument or slipped up in any way, he wouldn’t be asking for me now. It’s the fact that I was efficient rather than there being a personal angle.”

  She felt curiously elated, and she eyed the other people waiting for the bus with something like pity. They weren’t chosen to work with the one man in the world they admired above all others.

  Her attention was caught and held for a moment by a bus pulling up at the opposite side of the road. She stooped to pick up her case, idly watching the passengers descending from the bus. A young woman with a baby in her arms was obviously on her way to Dr. Stacey’s out-patients clinic. A small boy of about five years ran around his mother as she awkwardly descended the bus steps.

  Trudie felt a pang of sympathy for the young woman, burdened with the baby, a purse, a basket and numerous packages as well as trying to catch a hold of her small, active son. Without warning, the little boy ran right into the path of Trudie’s bus and a car emerging from the hospital gates. The car was not moving quickly, but the child stumbled. Flinging her case to the ground, Trudie ran and reached the child in time to snatch him to safety. She received a sudden, painful jar on her thigh, throwing her off balance right in front of the approaching car. Trudie fell backward holding the child clear, but her head struck the hard surface of the road as the car braked to a halt. Before the swirling mists of unconsciousness claimed her she was hazily aware of Philip Malham’s anxious gray eyes looking down into her own.

  CHAPTER TWO

  In the first awful moment, when the bus had thrown Trudie into the path of Philip’s car and he had felt the slight impact Philip had been frozen in horror. His reactions as he hurried to her side had been purely automatic and were not, he felt, in any sense real but the result of years of training.

  “Trudie ... Nurse Hislop?” he questioned, and when she did not at once respond he repeated her name urgently striving to compel her attention.

  When her eyes opened, looking, he thought inconsequently, like violets wet with rain, a wave of relief swept over him such as he had never experienced before. She did not speak, but a faint smile turned the corners of her mouth upward and then was gone. Philip rose from his knees. A small crowd had already gathered while someone had picked up Trudie’s case, placing it beside her as though not knowing what else to do with it. Philip had been about to summon help from the hospital, but before he could do so he saw to his relief that two of the orderlies were already approaching with a stretcher.

  “Cadet Edmundson saw what happened, sir,” one of them hastened to explain to Philip. “She came back and told us. She was just going off duty.”

  “Very commendable,” Philip said briefly. “Take Nurse Hislop into Casualty, please,” he ordered. “I’ll just park my car and be along right away.”

  He picked up Trudie’s case and placed it on the seat beside him, then, ignoring the small crowd that parted to make way for him, he drove quickly to his customary parking place outside the main doors of St. Catherine’s.

  Trudie had already been t
aken into Casualty, and Philip lost no time in following her. Eyes open, she lay on the examination table and smiled a little as he came to stand beside her, his anxiety apparent in his face.

  “I’m really all right, Dr. Malham,” she began in a small voice very unlike her customary brisk tones. “Just bruised and shaken, I think. And my head hurts where I hit the road.” She attempted to sit but gave up the effort as a wave of dizziness hit her, and she sank back, suddenly looking exhausted. Before Philip could make any comment upon the effect the effort had obviously had upon her, she asked, “Do tell me, please, how is the little boy? Was he hurt at all?”

  “Not touched,” Philip assured her, “thanks to your prompt action. He’s a very lucky little chap. He could have been killed—or badly injured. Maybe teach him a lesson for the future.” His words were a little harsh, but he was thinking that Trudie herself might have been “killed or badly injured” as a result of the child’s heedless action.

  Trudie smiled. She thought she could well understand his gruff exclamation.

  “He’s only a baby,” she said, still in a tremulous voice. “He’ll know better next time.”

  Philip was making a quick but very thorough examination as she spoke, and she winced slightly as his fingers explored the thigh that had received the jar.

  “Painful?” he asked, watching her face. “I’m sorry, but I have to know just how much damage has been done.”

  “I don’t think it’s anything more than bruising,” Trudie repeated, keeping mental fingers crossed that she might be right. “I expect I’ll be sore and stiff tomorrow.”

  “And for a few days after that, I’m afraid,” Philip said gravely. He straightened up and smiled down at her. “I can’t find any sign of a fracture,” he announced with some relief, “but just to be on the safe side we’ll have them take X-rays right away.” He smiled across at the Casualty nurse and nodded. “I’ll wait,” he announced. “I’d like to see the plates as quickly as possible, if you don’t mind.”