Tulips for Augusta

Augusta blinked again with her sable lashes. ‘Twenty-three.’

Lady Belway stared rudely at her. ‘Extraordinary hair,’ she remarked. And before she could say anything more:

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ agreed Augusta coolly, ‘but it makes no difference to my nursing, Lady Belway.’ She smiled kindly, her eyes twinkling, and after a long second, the old lady smiled back.

‘I’ve a filthy temper,’ she observed with complacence, ‘but I suppose you’re trained to ignore it.’

Augusta considered this remark. ‘If you mean do we let that sort of thing upset us—no, we don’t, but that doesn’t mean we ignore the patients.’ She smiled again and followed Sister to the door, and the old lady called after them, ‘Come back and talk to me, Nurse Brown,’ which command Augusta acknowledged with another non-committal smile, and Sister with the acid remark that Lady Belway was mistaken; Nurse Brown was Staff Nurse Brown…

Back in the office, she said, ‘I understand that you are going on holiday in a week or so, Staff Nurse. Until then perhaps you will take over Staff Nurse Bates’ off-duty.’

Augusta said ‘Yes, Sister,’ because she fancied that it wouldn’t be of much use saying anything else, and as she took off her cuffs to prepare for work, she thought nostalgically of Men’s Surgical, where Sister, who wasn’t a great deal older than herself, had the pleasing habit of offering her a choice of days off, and lent an understanding ear when Augusta had a date with Archie.

She was about to go to her dinner, when Sister Cutts passed the remark that she would be taking a half day, and she was sure that Augusta would manage very well. One of the part-time staff nurses would take over for the afternoon, and Augusta would be good enough to come back on duty at five o’clock. Over dinner, Augusta unburdened herself to those particular staff nurses who were her friends, and then in company with two of them who had half days, took herself out for a little window-shopping, followed by a recklessly extravagant tea at Fortnum and Mason’s. She arrived back on duty with a bare minute to spare to take the report from the part-time staff nurse, a large placid girl with a husband and two small children to look after. Augusta, still a little breathless from her hurrying, envied her her unshakable calm.

The evening went better than she had expected—she had three nurses on with her, so that she was able to leave most of the treatments to the more senior of them, leaving her free to deal with doctor’s visits, Matron’s report and suppers. Suppers were tricky. The trays looked tempting, and Augusta, who was hungry, could have eaten the delicate little dishes of chicken or fish with relish; but several of the patients felt otherwise. She did the after-supper round, trying not to feel irritated at the petty complaints about the wrong kind of sauce and not enough salt. Only the ill patients, she noticed, thanked her without complaint.

Lady Belway, glaring at her from her high stacked pillows, delivered a pithy diatribe on hospital food and her own supper in particular, while Augusta stood patiently. Presently she paused for breath, and when Augusta still said nothing, asked, ‘Well, haven’t you anything to say?’

Augusta considered, in no way disconcerted by the old lady’s fierce tongue. ‘I think the least said the better, don’t you, Lady Belway?’ she asked at length. ‘And now, how about an egg-nog with a hint of brandy, since you didn’t enjoy your supper.’

Lady Belway gave a snort of laughter. ‘You’re no fool, gal—but of course, you wouldn’t be with those eyes. Yes, I’ll have your egg-nog—if it’s drinkable.’

It was an hour or so later, in that quiet, brief doldrum of time between the nurses going to supper and the night staff coming on duty, that Augusta, her report written, discovered that Lady Belway’s TPR hadn’t been recorded in the day book…she might as well do it now. She went unhurriedly along the corridor, tapped on the door and went in. Lady Belway had visitors—two of them: a girl, a gorgeous girl with dark hair and eyes, and wearing, Augusta noted with a sharp female eye, equally gorgeous clothes. The second visitor was a man, sitting on one of the flimsy cane chairs the hospital provided for its visitors’ comfort. It creaked horribly as he got up, which didn’t surprise her in the least, for he was well over six foot tall and a large man, with a massive chest and shoulders under his well tailored jacket. She would have liked to have had a good look at him, but she had come for a chart, not to stare at strange men. She said pleasantly, ‘I’m sorry, Lady Belway, I didn’t know that you had visitors. I need your chart.’

She had unhooked it from the end of the bed as she spoke, and was already making for the door, having cast an all-enveloping smile at its occupants. The man was there first; his large hand closed on the door handle just as she had extended hers…only he didn’t open the door. After an awkward moment, she glanced up to look into pale blue eyes that twinkled rather nicely. He was, she saw, good-looking, with straw-coloured hair brushed smoothly back from a wide forehead, a commanding nose and a well-shaped, firm mouth. The mouth was smiling now—a small half mocking smile. He said softly in a deep voice, ‘My godmother’s quite right; you don’t look old enough.’

Augusta’s mouth opened, showing little white teeth; for a moment she looked as though she was going to grind them. Instead she shut her mouth again while she gave him a long, cool glance before saying finally with dignity, ‘I’m glad your fears are groundless,’ and when he opened the door, swept through, her carroty head high. At least a satisfactory exit, she thought, ruffled, and found him beside her in the corridor.

She started to walk away from him, but he put out a hand and caught her lightly by the arm. She didn’t move; she had had enough schoolroom fights with her brother when they were children to know when it was to her advantage to keep still.

‘That’s better—I only want to know something about Lady Belway, and you were so intent on flouncing off before I had a chance to open my mouth.’

She went a little pink, because she hadn’t thought that at all, and he went on, as though he had read her thoughts, ‘Did you think that I was going to make a pass at you? My dear Staff Nurse, I don’t like carroty hair.’

At this outrageous remark the pink turned to scarlet. Goaded, she snapped, ‘I’m not such a desperate old maid that I welcome—or expect—a pass from a man like you!’ Which remark didn’t help in the least, as he laughed with genuine amusement, and then asked in quite a different voice—placid yet authoritative, ‘My godmother—she isn’t very happy here. Oh, I know that she has every attention and kindness, but I wondered if she could be got home soon, if we could find a nurse.’

Augusta fixed her eyes on the fine grey suiting of his jacket. She said stiffly, ‘I can’t tell you that. I’m temporary here and didn’t come until today; in any case, I think you should see Sister Cutts or Mr Weller-Pratt.’ She glanced up and wondered why he smiled as though he was amused at something. ‘He’s the orthopaedic surgeon in charge of Lady Belway’s case,’ she explained carefully. ‘If you care to telephone him or Sister— ’She stopped. The sound of quiet feet on the stairs meant the night staff. Before she could speak, he said easily, ‘Thanks. I won’t keep you—the night staff are coming and you will want to give the report. Goodnight.’

He went back into Lady Belway’s room again, leaving her to hurry to the office. The two night nurses were already there—a junior and a staff nurse, a close friend of Augusta’s who said at once:

‘Gussie, who was that? That handsome giant you were dallying with in the corridor? I hope he stays until I can get on the round.’

Augusta sat down and the other two drew up chairs—something they wouldn’t have dared to do if Sister had been on duty; however…

‘I don’t know who he is,’ said Augusta shortly, ‘and I don’t care.’ She was still smarting under his remark about her hair. ‘He’s visiting Lady Belway and there’s a girl with him—wearing a trouser suit.’ She described it at some length and rather enviously. Trouser suits looked marvellous on elegant beanpoles, which she was not. She sighed and said uselessly, ‘Oh, well!’ and flipped the Kardex open and began. ‘Marlene Jones, T’s and A’s—second day…’

During her complicated walk through the hospital to the Nurses’ Home she wondered briefly how it was that Lady Belway’s visitor had known about her giving the report to the night nurses. In general, visitors hadn’t a clue as to how the hospital kept its wheels turning…either he was a very observant man and had been a frequent visitor, or he knew something about hospitals. She considered this unlikely, his appearance had struck her forcibly as that of a member of the leisured class, and he had the assurance and easy manner of those born with the silver spoon. Her brows drew together in a heavy frown, so that when she joined her closer friends in the sitting room there was a general chorused question as to whether she had had a beastly day. Presently, soothed by strong tea and sympathy, she went away to have a bath, and came back, dressing-gowned and ready for bed, to join the others, similarly attired, in watching a spine-chilling film on TV. It was sufficiently horrific to allow her to forget all about the man who didn’t like carroty hair.

She remembered him the next morning, though, and over a brisk cup of coffee she was bidden to drink with Sister, mentioned him, hoping that she would hear who he was: her hopes were dashed. Sister observed:

‘I’ve never heard of him. If he wishes to see me he has only to come to the office when I am here, or if he prefers, he can make an appointment with Mr Weller-Pratt.’ She dismissed him, to Augusta’s disappointment, in favour of the day’s work. ‘I shall want you to go to Theatre with Miss Toms—she is highly strung and has a low threshold to pain.’

Augusta groaned inwardly. Miss Toms’ sensitive feelings would make even the management of a simple operation to remove her appendix a misery for herself as well as the nurses. Presently, obedient to Sister’s wishes, she escorted Miss Toms down to the anaesthetic room and held her frantic, restless hand in a reassuring grip and talked to her in a soft, gentle voice that slowly but surely doused poor Miss Toms’ terror. She was coming back through the theatre wing’s swing door, pinning her cap as she went when she met Lady Belway’s visitor again. His ‘Hullo’ was easy and wholly without surprise. She was trying to think of something to say when he fell into step beside her, remarking, ‘Busy, I see…somehow you don’t strike me as the type to enjoy Private Wing.’

She had started to say ‘I h…’ when she remembered that he was hardly someone in whom she could confide her true feelings regarding Private Wing. She closed her pretty mouth firmly and continued to walk sedately towards the stairs. It was at this moment that she saw Archie coming towards them, and was still deciding if she should stop and speak to him or walk on when he drew level with them and said, as though she were alone:

‘Hullo, Gussie. See you this evening—same place,’ and was on his way again.

Fortunately, they had reached the stairs—Augusta was going up, and she hoped devotedly that her companion was going down. He was, but before he went he said in what she considered to be a hatefully smooth voice:

‘What a relief!’ She had turned on her heel, but with a fatal curiosity, paused to ask why, to be told, ‘I was beginning to think that you didn’t like men. Of course it’s a blow to my ego that you don’t like me, but that is something which can be dealt with later.’

Augusta told herself that she hadn’t the least idea of what he was talking about. She stared at him, her eyes bright green saucers. She said primly, ‘Goodbye’ and flew upstairs two at a time in a whirl of starched skirts, ashamed that instead of thinking about her evening out with Archie she was wholly concerned with the tall stranger. Not, she told herself stoutly, that she found him in the least attractive—indeed, he was rude and arrogant. She told herself this twice, because it didn’t ring quite true. She wondered how he behaved towards someone he liked—that lovely dark girl, for instance. He had a delightful voice—she frowned a little, because now she came to think about it, he had an accent—a very faint accent which tugged, elusive as smoke, at the edge of her senses.

She slipped through the door to PP and forgot him instantly in the hurry and exactitude of her work, and when his image persisted in its invasion of her mind during the rest of the day, she very sensibly ignored it. But that evening, on the way home from the cinema with Archie, she was reminded of him once more by her companion, who wanted to know, without much interest, who he was and what she had been doing with him anyway. She explained, and when Archie remarked that he had got the impression that her companion had appeared a high-handed fellow, agreed with him cheerfully, adding the rider that probably he was married or engaged to the girl he had been with in Lady Belway’s room—or at any rate, very close friends. Strangely, she didn’t fancy the idea, until she remembered how he had said, very plainly indeed, that he didn’t like carroty hair. She said, apropos of nothing at all:

‘What colour would you call my hair, Archie?’

He gave her an astonished look. ‘Good lord, what on earth do you want to know for? I suppose it’s…’ he paused. ‘Coppery?’ he queried cautiously, and was relieved when she smiled.

‘I’m going on holiday in a couple of weeks,’ she remarked, as they waited for the bus to take them back to St Jude’s. ‘You’ll have to find yourself another girl to take out.’ And she was not altogether pleased when he said carelessly, ‘Oh, that’ll be easy enough.’ She wasn’t even faintly in love with him, but she had liked to think that he was at least a little in love with her, even if it was only temporary. Apparently not.

Later, in bed thinking about it, she had to admit that Archie was a dear, but if she were in his shoes, she’d take jolly good care not to fall in love with a nurse when there was still at least two years’ post-graduate course to get through. It was lucky she hadn’t fallen in love with him. She had, like any other girl of twenty-three, fancied herself in love several times, but never to touch her heart, and never for more than a few weeks at a time. To her annoyance, she found herself thinking about the stranger once more, which was stupid and pointless; she would probably never see him again. She went to sleep feeling a little sad because of it.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE SAW HIM the following morning. It was Sister’s day off, so Augusta was to go on duty at eleven and stay on until the night staff came on—a long day, but normal enough. She had rushed out to shop soon after breakfast and they had arrived together at the entrance to the hospital, she on her feet, he at the wheel of a dark grey Silver Shadow convertible. The big car purred past her and stopped without sound, and after one startled look she nodded coolly and flew up the steps and past the porter’s lodge, making for the back of the entrance hall. She wasn’t quite quick enough. She was only half way across the gleaming linoleum floor when he caught up with her.

He said silkily, ‘Are you running away, or—er—discouraging me?’

They had come to the passage running at right angles to the hall. Augusta took the right-hand fork, and found him still beside her.

‘Neither,’ she snapped a little breathlessly. ‘I’ve been out shopping and I’m due on duty in ten minutes.’

She heard him chuckle. ‘And first you must get your breath back,’ he remarked with mock sympathy. They had reached the end of the passage and he opened the door which gave on to the inner courtyard, across which loomed the austere lines of the Nurses’ Home. Augusta fled through it with a muttered ‘Goodbye’, not looking at him at all. She changed with the speed of long practice, and reflected, as she brushed her hair, that it had been a piece of luck that she had been wearing the new jersey dress which matched her eyes. She had bought it barely a week ago, and although being early April, it was possibly a little cool to have worn it, the sun had been shining. Then she had got out the black patent leather handbag her father had given her for her last birthday. It was to find shoes to match this treasured article which had her out so early. She had found its exact match at Raynes, and had had the elegant slingbacks on her feet when they met. The fact somehow compensated for the fact that he drove a Rolls-Royce.

She took the report from another part-time staff nurse, a girl she had known well before she had left to get married a year previously. They had a cup of coffee together once the Kardex was dealt with, and Augusta questioned cautiously, ‘Are there any visitors on the floor?’

‘Mother’s in One.’ This with an expressive lifting of eyebrows. ‘There’s a beautiful creature with Lady Belway—in a white dress, ducky, with one of those tapestry belts that cost the earth. T-strap lizard shoes and handbag to match…’ The two young women stared at each other, wanting the unobtainable for a few unguarded moments, then, ‘There’s someone with the Brig—a downtrodden-looking female of uncertain age.’

They giggled together, but not unkindly. ‘No one else?’ asked Augusta.

‘No one else. And a good thing too, you’ll be able to get the rest of the bits and pieces done before lunch, and then catch up on the paper work during the afternoon.’ Babs got to her feet. ‘Well, I’m off home to clear up and get a meal for James. Thank heaven it’s pay-day, I’ve gone through the housekeeping again.’ She turned to go. ‘How’s Archie?’ she asked over her shoulder. Augusta was aware, a little uncomfortably, that the hospital took Archie and her for granted. She said:

‘We went to the Regent last night, to see that new film…he’s fine.’

She was looked at intently from the door. ‘Love’s young dream wearing a bit thin?’