New Doctor at Northmoor (10 page)

On the next page was also one she liked: Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen!

A page-a-day diary was a delightful thing. She wrote in it for that day:
Only lost a morning.
As she put the diary back, she wondered if she ought to try and remember how many parts of the preceding days she had lost since she had come into the hospital. Finally she decided that as she couldn
’
t hope to remember with any accuracy, she would just write in the day on which she had been admitted: the day on which Mark Bayfield had moved into Fairmead. It seemed rather a long time ago. She felt queer and shaky as she realized how long she had been in bed. She wriggled her toes and wondered if her legs would feel peculiar when she tried to walk again
—
if she ever did. That scared her, so she concentrated on putting the diary back carefully on the locker, and as she did so, a folded paper fell out of it.

It fell just beyond her reach, so she spent some minutes amusing herself by blowing it gently so that it fell, again and again, a little further towards her. Sister came in before that interesting game could reach fulfilment, and automatically moved the paper on to the locker, and straightened the bed, to give Gwenny her injection.

‘
Just a routine one, and the R.M.O. is busy and said you could trust me with it
,’
Sister twinkled. They all liked Gwenny.

She forgot about the folded piece of paper, because she lost several more hours. When she did remember it, she found that it had been put back in the diary, marking the last day it had been opened. She told herself comfortably that she would read it some time—probably Priscilla had put a very brief note inside.

Yet another new nurse, this time not a visitor but on her own ward, put it out of Gwenny
’
s mind. This new nurse was really worth looking at. The plain, rather dreary uniform dress of Northmoor moulded itself to her curvaceous figure and she walked with a pronounced wiggle of the hips. Gwenny, on the precarious edge of adulthood, was very much interested in how some girls achieved that special
‘
look
‘
that made young men give the second glance. This girl had it: Priscilla hadn
’
t got it.

Gwenny studied the girl, as she settled a jug of
water
on the locker, and flicked an ineffectual duster around. She smiled easily at Gwenny, easily at the houseman who came in to take Gwenny
’
s B.P., equally easily at the window cleaner up on the ladder outside who energetically cleaned Gwenny
’
s windows. A smile for everyone, an easy, all-embracing smile that slipped on and off her face without effort. She was gloriously auburn, too, with dark (or darkened) lashes and brows, and that wonderful pink and white skin that sometimes goes with that coloured hair.

‘
Hello,
’
she had breathed at Gwenny when she first came in, and she breathed an easy salutation at the houseman, too.

That girl popped in and out all day, and she never did a job without making two for someone else, yet always, permanently, it seemed, amiability cuddled her like a cloak. No scolding could ruffle her. Nothing could send packing that easy smile.

‘
Who was it
?’
Gwenny asked Cosgrove, who came in later with her meal.

‘
That? Oh, that
’
s Catherine Allen,
’
said Cosgrove, with a rather calculating grin.

Catherine Allen. It sounded to Gwenny
’
s ears ever so slightly familiar, and she couldn
’
t rid herself of the feeling that that name was going to have an impact on her life. Yet she couldn
’
t imagine why. Catherine Allen, the girl with the complicated love life! Gwenny could understand that. Catherine Allen
’
s full eager mouth had been trembling a little as she had looked at the houseman, and he had been hard put to it to keep his eyes on the leaping mercury while he measured Gwenny
’
s blood pressure.

Catherine came to help Cosgrove make Gwenny
’
s bed that evening. Catherine was full of the coming garden party, and she spoke in that rather breathless husky voice, as if she found everything too exciting for words.

‘
Are you going, Cosgrove?
’
she murmured.

‘
If I can get away. I like side-shows and things
,’
Cosgrove said, giving her attention to her corners.

‘
My latest heavy date
’
s coming,
’
Catherine told them, and she caressed the words.
‘
He
’
s a sweetie. Can
’
t manage his own affairs, poor lamb. Parent trouble, family trouble, boss trouble—the lot! But he adores me
.’

‘
They all adore you, Allen,
’
said Cosgrove, without rancour.

‘
Does anyone ever die in here?
’
Gwenny
’
s clear little voice came suddenly, from below them.

They looked down at her in astonishment. She saw they had forgotten all a
bout her. She was just another b
ed for them to have to make. Cosgrove grinned delightedly, but Allen affected a shudder.

‘
Horrid little one, don
’
t talk about such things,
’
she begged, in her dreamy voice.

‘
Why not? People do die, don
’
t they?
’
Gwenny said sturdily.

‘
Nurses have many superstitions,
’
Cosgrove told her, now quite seriously.
‘
And one of them is that if you mention death, someone dies within a three.
’

‘
Well, of course someone dies within three months,
’
Gwenny scoffed, but Catherine Allen said quickly,
‘
No, the three means hours,
’
and she shuddered again.
‘
We pretend it isn
’
t there, and with luck it goes away.
’
Gwenny thought that was a very weak outlook and she wondered how it was that such a girl had started to be a nurse. She put her puzzlement to Catherine Allen, who observed cheerfully,
‘
For the fun, little one. It
’
s a good life on the whole, provided one doesn
’
t take seriously the many scoldings. They used to take bets on me as to whether I
’
d get through a day without a rocket, but they lost their money. They gave it up. Not to worry. I don
’
t.
’

‘
What, not about anything?
’
Cosgrove jeered.
‘
Not even Big Brother?
’

Catherine Allen hesitated for a second, then said, breathlessly,
‘
Same principle. If I pretend he isn
’
t there, he goes away. Anyway, I
’
m less than the dust to him, really.
’

‘
Let
’
s hope so, the things you get up to,
’
Cosgrove said unfeelingly.
‘
How are you going to manage on Saturday, when you go to that dance at the Royal
?’

Catherine Allen
’
s face creased up into one happy soft baby smile.
‘
I
’
ve got a plan,
’
she said.
‘
These stairs,
just outside
‘
but the smile vanished, and she broke
off, looking bothered as Cosgrove frowned at her and shook her head.

‘
What stairs?
’
Gwenny wanted to know, but they teased her about having big ears and both went out laughing.

Gwenny was determined to find out, and got the information from the unsuspecting woman who cleaned her floor. She had pebble glasses and a lilac overall that fought with her florid complexion, and she admitted at once that it was only a disused fire staircase, and that the door was kept bolted on the inside. Gwenny felt better about the door being kept bolted, until she remembered that it had been part of Catherine Allen
’
s bright idea to use those stairs.

The next time the R.M.O. came, Gwenny waited for the advent of Catherine Allen, but quite surprisingly she didn
’
t come, although she had been haunting Gwenny
’
s room until them. A dumpy junior with glasses and a very efficient pair of hands came instead. It was more restful, if less amusing, to have someone who didn
’
t spill, bang, or jolt the bed, as she performed the many routine tasks. Gwenny could tell the time of day by the jobs that were being done, and the R.M.O. was much amused when he asked her if she
’
d been asleep and for how long, when she replied promptly,
‘
I was asleep from the medicine round to the second filling of water jugs.
’

‘
You
’
re looking better,
’
he said judiciously.
‘
How do you feel?
’

‘
Marvellous. Honestly, it
’
s a long time since I felt so well. No peculiar pains, and I
’
d like very much to be wheeled to the window to see the garden party.
’

‘
Is that what you like—people, and stalls, and speeches and pretty clothes
?’

‘
No, not really, but it would be a change. Do you know what my range of vision is?
’

‘
No, I don
’
t think I do,
’
he said, and unexpectedly he got up to stand by her head and look.
‘
Oh, I see your point. Yes, it is rather dreary—just the wall, the door and the little window in it. Well, just to prove to you that I
’
m not the cold callous individual you think I am, I
’
ll make special representations to Sister to have your bed moved so that you can see quite a lot outside. I can
’
t promise any comings and goings on the fire stairs because that staircase isn
’
t used any more. It used to be. Quite a lot of traffic up and down, but not any more. Still, in the other direction there
’
s plenty going on. You
’
ll be able to see the bridge across the grass, which leads to the Men
’
s Wing.
’

‘
What a thrill,
’
Gwenny observed, but she thanked him, just the same.

‘
And you
’
ll probably be able to just glimpse the visitors coming in at the main gate. You could do with a pair of field-glasses. That might be fun. Shall I see if I can get you some?
’

Suspicious as always, she countered:
‘
Why
?
Why would you do that
?’

‘
A very base motive to get you interested enough to forget your own woes and help yourself to get well,
’
he said, and got up to call a nurse, so that he could examine Gwenny.

As he did so, his hand caught the diary and almost knocked it down. He stared at it, as if he couldn
’
t believe his eyes, but all he said was,
‘
Hello, where did you get that from?
’

‘
Present,
’
Gwenny said. She had a mulish streak in her when he was asking a question, regardless of what the question was. She answered it as briefly and unhelpfully as possible, yet she couldn
’
t even have told herself why she felt like that.

He looked as if he were going to ask outright who had made such a present to her, then altered his mind, and called the nurse.

Gwenny thought he was angry. His face had that set, unforthcoming look which had been softened of late, since she had been in hospital. She couldn
’
t think why he should be angry, so she said,
‘
My diary has good thoughts on every page. Aren
’
t you pleased that today
’
s adjures me to fight the good fight, whatever that may mean
?’