LITMIR.BIZ

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years now and she had been a staff nurse for two years and there had been hints just lately that very shortly she would be offered a Sister’s post. She had nothing to complain of, she assured herself as she went round methodically testing the oxygen, inspecting the trays and making sure that there was enough of everything to keep them going until the end of the list. Harriet King, the third-year nurse who worked with her, had already fetched the blood for the first case and was now, under Sister Collins’ sharp eyes, setting out an injection tray. Beth picked up the theatre list, glanced at the clock and went off to fetch the first patient, a middle-aged lady from the Private Wing on the floor below, who, despite her pre-med., indulged, once she was on the trolley and in the lift, in an attack of screaming hysterics, which was rather overdoing things, seeing that she was only having a small nodule removed from one shoulder; a matter of five minutes’ work by the surgeon and accompanied by no possible cause for alarm.

      Beth soothed her as best she could, chatting about this and that and laying a surprisingly firm hand on the lady’s well-upholstered front when she signified her intention of sitting up.

      ‘Now, now,’ said Beth soothingly, genuinely sorry for the poor scared woman, ‘here’s Mr Todd who is to give you the anaesthetic—you saw him yesterday, didn’t you? I’m going to hold your hand and he’ll give you the teeniest prick in your arm and you’ll go to sleep at once.’

      The patient started to protest, but Mr Todd had slipped in his needle and her eyes had closed before she could frame even one word.

      ‘You’re always so nice to them,’ he said. ‘Give me that tube, Beth—in the bad old days she would have gone to her local GP and he’d have done it under a local and no nonsense.’

      She smiled at him behind her mask. ‘But it isn’t what’s going to be done to you—that’s all the same once you’re under—it’s the idea…’

      She broke off to hand over to Theatre Staff Nurse, and with a cheerful little nod slid back into the Recovery Room; they would be ready in Theatre Two for their first case. She collected a porter and a trolley and set off once more, this time to Men’s Surgical.

      The morning slid quietly away and had become afternoon before there was a chance to get a meal, and then it was sandwiches and yoghurt sent up from the canteen. And the afternoon went even more quickly, with all four theatres going flat out and an emergency added on to the end of Theatre One’s list just as Beth was starting to clear up. She would be home late again, and William, whose free evening it was, would have to wait for the dinner she had promised to cook for him. She was finished at last, though, and changed without much thought to her appearance and making her way out of the theatre block into the labyrinth of passages which took up the space behind the impressive entrance hall in the older part of the hospital. She was negotiating these when she saw her brother ahead of her. He was standing at the junction of four passages, talking to someone out of sight, which didn’t prevent her cheerful: ‘William—I’m only just off, so supper will be late. You’d better call in at the Black Dog and have a pint…’ She had reached him by now and went on briskly: ‘Why are you making that extraordinary face?’

      There was no need for him to tell her; his out-of-sight companion came into view as she reached the corner—the man she had almost run down on her bike that morning. She smiled at him. ‘Oh, hullo—is your back still OK?’

      Seeing him for a second time she was struck by his size and by the fact that he wasn’t as young as she had supposed him to be. ‘You don’t always feel it at first,’ she explained kindly, and heard William draw in his breath sharply.

      ‘This,’ he said in his most reproving voice, ‘is Professor van Zeust from Leyden University in Holland—he lectures in surgery.’ His tone was reverent.

      ‘Oh, do you?’ Beth put out a hand and had it gently wrung. ‘I had no idea.’ Her engagingly plain face broke into a grin. ‘And me telling you to go along to Cas.! You could have told me.’

      ‘If you remember, you were already late,’ he reminded her. His voice was kind, but she had the impression that he didn’t want to waste time talking to her. She gave him a friendly nod, said, ‘See you later, William,’ and went on her way, aware that her brother wasn’t best pleased with her.

      He got to the flat an hour later, just as she was laying the table for their supper, and being a careless young man, he cast his books on one chair, his scarf on to another and himself into a third.

      ‘You are a little idiot,’ he began, ‘talking like that to one of the most distinguished surgeons in Europe.’

      Beth was at the stove, dishing up. ‘Oh? Does he live on a pedestal or something? He seemed quite human to me.’

      ‘Of course he’s human,’ her brother spoke testily, ‘but he’s…he should be respected…’

      ‘But I was quite polite.’

      He agreed reluctantly and went on: ‘Yes, but do you know what he said after you’d gone? He wanted to know where you worked and then he said that you didn’t appear to him to be quite like the other nurses he had met.’

      Beth bore their plates to the table. ‘Ah, he noticed how plain I am.’

      ‘Well, I daresay,’ William agreed with brutal candour, ‘but he could have meant that you didn’t treat him with enough respect.’

      ‘Pooh,’ said Beth with scorn, ‘and you were chatty enough, the pair of you.’

      William was attacking his supper in the manner of a starving man. ‘I happened to meet him,’ he said with a full mouth and great dignity, ‘and he asked me to take a message about the times of his lectures.’

      Beth gave him a second helping. ‘I wonder where he lives?’ she wanted to know.

      ‘Haven’t a clue. What’s for pudding?’

      After supper he left her to the washing up and went to his room to study, and when she expressed surprise at his sudden enthusiasm for work, he told her rather sheepishly that old van Zeust was a good enough fellow and knew how to give a lecture. ‘Besides,’ he went on, ‘I happen to be interested in his particular line of work.’ He gave her a lofty look as he left the room, although he was back again within five minutes to ask if she could lend him a fiver until the end of the month.

      She went and fetched the money at once, for she was a good sister to him and moreover quite understood that young men needed money for beer and taking girls out. The fiver was part of a nest egg she had been saving towards some new clothes, and she very much doubted if she would get it back again. But William was a dear; he had been kind to her when they had left Chifney and he paid his half of the rent, even if he did borrow it back again within a week or so. In a year or two’s time, when he had finished his post-graduate work and got himself a really good job, he would probably marry, and then she would have to find a smaller flat and live in it by herself—unless she got married too, and that didn’t seem very likely; not now. If she had stayed at home and her father had been alive, she would have been Miss Partridge of Chifney House, and perhaps one of the young men living in the district, sons of small landowners, would have married her, for there she had been the daughter of the house and what she lacked in looks she had made up for with charm, so that she had had a great many friends. But here in London, no one cared who she was; it had taken her a little while to get used to the indifference of Londoners to each other, and indeed, she had discovered during the years that they had lived there that life in a city wasn’t at all the same thing as life at Chifney—there, if you were ill, the whole village knew, willing helpers rallied round to feed the cat, mow the grass, leave delicious baked custards on the doorstep, fetch the children from school, and when her father had been alive he could always be depended upon to help out if funds were low. She very much doubted if her stepbrother did that.

      The Dutch professor was in the theatre the next morning. The first case was a kidney transplant, to be done by Professor MacDonald, one of the leading men in that line of surgery. It was soon apparent that he and the Dutchman were old friends; Beth could hear their voices in the surgeons’ changing

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