A Match For Sister Maggy

He said goodbye then, and they turned away. Madame Riveau, in the next bed, had visitors. Her husband and son sat one on each side of her; they looked, Maggy thought, as though they were guarding the woman in the bed. She wished them a good afternoon as she passed, and was surprised when they both got up and walked over to her. Subconsciously she recoiled and took an instinctive step towards the doctor, who looked faintly surprised but remained silent.

The older man spoke. ‘I wish to take my wife home. You will arrange it?’ It wasn’t a request but a demand, couched in an insolent tone and awkward French.

Maggy stopped. ‘I’m sorry, Monsieur Riveau; you must arrange that with the doctor. Your wife is almost better; please let her stay for another week.’

The younger man had joined his father. ‘My mother is not to have her teeth X-rayed or drawn.’ There was an ill-concealed dislike in his voice.

Maggy glanced at him briefly, refusing to be intimidated. Dr Doelsma had remained silent, but his presence gave her a good deal of courage.

‘Your mother is in pain; surely she may decide herself?’

His small black eyes glared at her. She couldn’t understand what he said, but evidently the doctor could. He stopped him and began to speak in a voice Maggy hadn’t heard him use before; it was cold and hard and full of authority. He spoke in fluent French which she couldn’t hope to follow, and she watched the two men cringe under it. When the doctor had finished, they made no reply but looked at Maggy with hate in their eyes, and went back to the bed.

Maggy stood irresolute, but Dr Doelsma tapped her on the shoulder in a peremptory fashion, and she found herself, rather to her own surprise, walking meekly beside him down the ward. By the time they had reached her office, however, she had begun to feel a slight indignation. He had had no right to interfere when she was discussing her own patients; the fact that she had been very glad to have him there while he talked with those two awful men had nothing to do with it. Standing by her desk, she said stiffly,

‘Thank you for your help, although I am usually judged capable of dealing with matters concerning my patients.’

She was vexed to hear her voice shaking. She was enraged still further when he laughed.

‘How pretty you are when you are angry! I’m sorry you are annoyed with me. Was I very high-handed? You didn’t understand what that man was saying, did you? Shall I tell you, or will you take my word for it that he was crude and disgusting? If we had been anywhere else but a hospital ward, I should have knocked him down.’

She looked startled and contrite. ‘I didn’t understand him, you were kind to…to stop him. Thank you.’

‘Why are you afraid of them?’

‘Oh! How did you know—did they see…?’

‘No, they did not. I don’t blame you for disliking them. I found them most repulsive.’ He smiled. ‘Am I forgiven?’

‘Yes, of course, sir. I’m sorry I was rude.’ She looked at him anxiously. He was still smiling—she remembered that he had smiled on the day of the lecture and said quickly in a brisk fashion, ‘Now I’ll be helping Nurse with the teas. The visitors will be going…’ She got as far as the door.

‘My mother complains bitterly that she has hardly seen you all day. Could not the green-eyed blonde help with teas while you come into Sep? She has proved a poor substitute for you, Sister.’

She bristled. ‘Nurse Sibley is a very competent nurse.’

Their eyes met; his were dancing with laughter.

‘Indeed yes, Maggy. But that isn’t what I meant.’

She found she had been ushered out of the office and across the landing into Sep and heard herself telling Nurse Sibley to go the ward and help with teas. She seemed to be doing exactly what the doctor wished her to do. She remembered Sir Charles’ words, and made a resolve to be very much firmer in the future.

CHAPTER THREE

DR DOELSMA went back to Holland during Sunday night, and the ward seemed a very dull place without him. Maggy felt a thrill of excitement when Sir Charles mentioned in a casual manner that Paul would be visiting his mother at the end of the week. Nevertheless she felt constrained to change her off-duty so that she would be absent from the ward on that day. Staff Nurse Williams looked at her as if she was out of her mind.

‘Sister! Dr Doelsma’s coming—he’ll get here about two o’clock and he’s going again in the evening. You’ll miss him.’

‘Well, that can’t be helped,’ said Maggy reasonably. ‘I promised I would go and see this friend of my mother’s and it just so happens that she wants me to go on Friday.’ She smiled at Williams. ‘You can cope with anything that may crop up, and Mevrouw Doelsma is so much better now, I think she’ll do. Besides, Dr Doelsma thinks you’re a very pretty girl, and you know you’re delighted to be seeing him.’

Williams giggled, ‘Well, Sister, he is marvellous!’

So Maggy spent her day with elderly Miss MacIntyre, who hadn’t seen her for a number of years and treated her like a schoolgirl; they went for a walk in the park, and changed the library books and discussed knitting patterns, and she went back to the hospital in the evening, wondering if she would be like Miss MacIntyre in forty years’ time.

Rather to her surprise, the next morning, Williams gave her the report without mentioning Dr Doelsma, but as Maggy closed the report book her staff nurse opened a cupboard and produced an opulent box of Kersenbonbons, and laid it on the desk.

‘He brought these,’ she breathed. ‘I said you weren’t here, and he said how nice it was to see me again, and he gave me these and I told him I’d give them to you, and he said No, they’re for the nurses, Sister will get something next time I come—but we thought we’d save them for you all the same.’

A small lump of hurt feelings settled in Maggy’s throat, but she swallowed it resolutely.

‘That was sweet of you all, but you take them and divide them up amongst you—Dr Doelsma might feel hurt in his feelings if ye didna’ do as he asked.’ She got up from her chair. ‘Sit down now, Staff, and do it this minute.’ She smiled at the other girl. ‘I’m off on my round.’

As she went she told herself that it was her own fault anyway that she hadn’t been on duty. Staff had said that he was coming again on the following Sunday—it was her free weekend in any case. The thought put her in mind of the amount of work she had to do, and she resolutely put all thoughts of the doctor out of her mind.

When she got to Mrs Salt’s bed, she found that old lady in a gossiping mood.

‘Yer missed ’im,’ she informed Maggy. ‘And now it’s yer weekend, ain’t it, love, so yer won’t see ’im then either. But I ’eard ’im asking Staff if you was on duty next Thursday evening, and she said Yes, and ’e says Good, I’ll be along then. So you’ll see ’im then.’

Maggy straightened a pillow. ‘Is that so, Mrs Salt? And I’ve just remembered that I’ll have to change my off duty on Thursday. Isn’t that a pity?’

She turned to the next bed, and found Madame Riveau sitting up in a chair. She would be going home very soon now, but she looked ill and spiritless. Maggy eyed her swollen jaws but remained silent. It was to be hoped that the woman would go to her own dentist as soon as she got home. She asked a few questions of her, but her answers were surly and unwilling, so she left her and went on down the ward and finally into Sep.

Mevrouw Doelsma smiled at her from her pillows, and Maggy thought how pretty she was now that she was better and had some colour in her cheeks, and a faint sparkle in her eyes.

‘Maggy, Paul missed you yesterday. He expected you to be on duty.’ Maggy went across the room and adjusted the blind, then said, with her back to her patient,

‘I changed my off-duty at the last minute.’ She smiled over her shoulder.

‘And you won’t be here tomorrow either?’

‘No, it’s my weekend, but Staff is very efficient…’

Mevrouw Doelsma looked at Maggy’s rather nice back view. ‘I wouldn’t dream of asking you to lose a minute of your free time, but I’m selfish enough to like you here all the time. Oh well, he’ll be over again on Thursday. You’ll be here then, won’t you?’

Maggy hesitated; she didn’t like telling lies. ‘Well, I usually am.’ She achieved the half truth, feeling guilty.

She spent the weekend trying to think of a good excuse for changing her evening off. It was nothing short of a miracle that Williams should come to her during Monday and ask if she could possibly have Wednesday evening free. Maggy breathed a sigh of relief and, taking care not to appear too pleased, agreed.

Wednesday evening was fairly quiet. She did the medicine round and started the report before going to supper, and when she came back went to see Mevrouw Doelsma, who was sitting up in bed, ready for someone to talk to. She looked rather excited, Maggy thought, as she tidied her pillows, she supposed that she was pleased because she was making such good progress. Another two weeks and there would be talk of her going home. It was almost eight-thirty. She switched off the ceiling light, leaving the little bedside lamp burning, and went to the door and opened it, then turned round again to say,

‘I’m going to give the report, Mevrouw Doelsma. Ring if you want anything; I’ll be in to say goodnight later.’ She stepped backwards on to a foot, and didn’t need to hear the chuckle above her left ear to know whose it was. A very large gentle hand clipped her round the waist.

‘And do you number me among your enemies that you trample me so ruthlessly under foot? At best a poor way of greeting me after almost two weeks!’

She stood within the circle of his arm, fighting to breathe normally.

‘Ye ken well you’re no enemy of mine, Dr Doelsma—and I didna’ expect ye.’

He dropped his arm and she turned to face him with what dignity she could muster.