Island Hospital (12 page)

“Have we been working you to death? Poor little Sheila!” She opened her eyes in some confusion to find Alan bending over her, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Just day dreaming,” she retorted quickly. “Did you bring your patient in with you?”

Alan pulled over a chair and sat down. “It was only a false alarm. Too many pancakes, I should say, but definitely not an appendix.”

Sheila forgot to be cautious. “How can you be so sure?”

“So now you’re questioning my diagnostic ability!” He chuckled. “Thought I’d catch you on that one! Chap had it out when he was a boy. Is Mary anywhere? I’m starved.”

Sheila stood up. “Mary’s gone visiting. Will I do as a substitute? How do you like your eggs, fried or scrambled?” She felt an urgent desire to be busy. If she stayed too long here with Alan she would start to think about Matron’s remark and she would be more self-conscious than she already was.

Alan made no move. “Can you
really
cook? I thought all English girls were brought up in well-behaved households ruled from below by a plump body called cook and there was always a little frightened rabbit known as ‘Tweeny’ or the between maid ... what this creature did I never could fathom, but she usually had a perpetual
sniff
...
”

Sheila made a face. “You’ve been reading the wrong kind of novels, obviously. What other odd information have you collected?”

He began to tick the items off on his fingers. “It’s always sweltering hot in August ... anybody who’s anybody always wears a school tie ... when it isn’t hot in London you have to grope your way around in a peasouper. Your women are either the type who are in London for the season, appear at Ascot and so, or else the Chelsea type who wear queer clothes and don’t wash very often and smoke cigarettes in very long holders. How’s that?”

Sheila had to laugh. “What sort of category do you put me in? I don’t like either of yours.”

Alan stood up and guided her toward the door. “I haven’t decided yet. I would have put you down as
useless...”
he paused with a wicked gleam in his eye,
“...
but if you’re really going to fry me an egg, I’d better postpone the classification, eh?”

Sheila laughed helplessly. “You are the end, Alan! I don’t know why I put up with it.”

Alan took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him. “Any idea why you do, Sheila?” he asked very quietly.

Sheila felt herself trembling and tried to pull away. “Not a clue,” she said flippantly.

Alan looked as if he would like to shake her. He dropped his hands with an angry gesture. “You’ll learn,” he said roughly. He opened the kitchen door. “Come on and let’s see what you can do with that egg.”

Sheila busied herself at her task. She had managed to give the wrong answer again. What was the use?

Alan watched her for a moment or two.

“Come off it, Sheila! You’re not a child any more.”

She raised troubled eyes. “But honestly I don’t know, Alan,” she said stubbornly.

Alan shrugged his shoulders and laughed. “I’m mean to tease you. Why should you understand what I’m driving at? I’ll make the tea.”

They were just finishing when Clare came in. She looked sulkily at the cluttered table.

“I didn’t know you were back, Alan,” she said crossly.

“Since when have you been my keeper?” Alan asked evenly. “Have a cup of tea?” He held up the pot.

Clare had gone very pale. “Alan how could you
...?”
She turned on her heel and went out of the kitchen without a backward glance.

Alan put down the teapot heavily. “Aren’t women the devil?
Treat ’em nicely and they think they own
you
...
treat ’em rough and they squeal.”

Sheila looked at him. “Am I supposed to answer that?”

Alan stared at her very deliberately and she felt the hot color come into her cheeks.

“One of these days you’ll know. Luckily for you, I’m not in a teaching mood tonight.”

Sheila gasped as sheer anger shook her. “How dare you!” She ran from the kitchen and his mocking laughter followed her.

CHAPTER SIX

Sheila was mixing up baby formula for Mrs. Parker to take home with her when Clare came storming into the nursery. Sheila looked at her in surprise. “What’s the matter?”

Clare glared at her. “You know very well what’s the matter. Matron says I have to take my holidays now.”

Sheila started a trifle guiltily. “I don’t think you can blame me for that,” she said gently. “Matron merely asked me if I knew what your plans were. I couldn’t tell her because I quite honestly didn’t know. You’d said vaguely that you might wait until later.”

“You mean you didn’t say anything more than that? You’re quite sure, honey?”

Sheila’s gray eyes were very steady. “Positively sure. Don’t you want your holidays? You say often enough that you’re fed up. Surely now that I’m here it’s a good chance for you to get away.”

Clare shrugged her shoulders, but she still looked annoyed. “It’s because you’re here that I don’t want to go,” she said gruffly.

A little smile played around Sheila’s mouth. “If it’s because you don’t trust me with Alan, you can save your worries,” she said coolly. Ignoring Clare’s gasp, she continued: “His conceited arrogance absolutely infuriates me.”

Clare stared at her with narrowed eyes. “I might be fool enough to believe you the first time, but I doubt if I would go on believing you. You seem to forget you can’t bear him around fast enough.”

Sheila was fast losing patience. “Clare, you’re making mountains out of molehills. You know perfectly well that this place is too small not to try to get on with people ... at least on duty. As long as Alan’s reasonably polite, I’m willing to be the same.”

Clare looked thoroughly miserable. “All right, all right, keep your hair on. I suppose I’d better go and pack.”

Sheila accepted the olive branch. “Where are you going for your holiday?”

Clare’s face lit up. “I’m going down to the States to stay with my cousins. They have a wonderful place in California, swimming pool and all the trimmings.”

Sheila’s voice was positively envious. “You lucky thing! I wish I could be going.”

“Who’s going where?” Alan came in behind them.

Clare was all smiles now. “I’m going to California. Won't you miss me?”

Alan studied her g
l
owing face thoughtfully. “Stranger things have happened,” he said teasingly. He glanced at Sheila. “Can you give me a hand when you’ve finished messing around with those bottles?”

She nodded without speaking and continued what she was doing. Alan shrugged his shoulders, smiled at Clare, lifting his eyebrows in the direction of Sheila’s back as he did so and left the nursery.

Clare went across to the window. “You didn’t appear very pleased to see his lordship.”

Sheila went on stirring. “I wasn’t,” she said calmly.

Clare laughed. “I must say you quiet English girls have got tempers underneath. What did Alan do anyway?”

S
h
eila didn’t look up. “He didn’t do anything. Can’t we talk about something else?”

Clare glanced at Sheila’s averted face. “Do you get fed up with the hodgepodge of duties we do here? Would you not be happier working in a big hospital like the Vancouver General?”

Sheila started pouring the mixture into the bottles. “Not really. It would be too much like home. I think I like the variety we get here. It’s almost like working in Casualty except that the patients usually stay in. You hear the doorbell ring and you never know what’s going to be on the doorstep. It keeps you on your toes.”

Clare turned to go. “I think I’ll look for a job in the States ... lots of money and rich, exciting patients.”

Sheila stood very still. “Are you serious?”

A strange look came over Clare’s face and her eyes became a deeper green. “There are some things to attend to here first,” she said very deliberately, and went out of the nursery.

Sheila found her hand trembling and the bottle overflowed. Did Clare really have some hold over Alan? She realized the direction of her thoughts and angrily mopped up the mess she had made. Blast him anyway. Why couldn’t he keep to his own side of the fence and leave her in peace? She paused with her hand in midair. Did she really want to be left in peace? With a sigh, Sheila went off to find Mrs. Parker.

Some time later she stood on the landing waving goodbye to the little family as their boat pulled away from the shore.

“Goodbye, Miss Griffiths, thanks ever so much. Tell the doctor we were sorry not to see him.”

Sheila put a hand up to her mouth. She had forgotten his earlier request, and it must be ages since he had asked her for a hand. Her search found him in the office with stacks of papers all over the place.

“You’ve been a long time. Gossiping as usual, I suppose. Arrange the papers alphabetically, there’s a good girl. I want to have some idea of what patients we have in our area. Start with the A’s, and then I can begin my list.”

Alan paid not the slightest attention to Sheila’s momentary indignation, and went on with what he was doing, making brief comments as he went.

“Remember old Salt? Oh, no, I forgot. He’s before your time. I ran into him in Vancouver. My predecessor sent him to the General for treatment. That reminds me, I must find out if Doctor Graham is expected to come back here. That’s one question I won’t ask dear Joyce. I think he’s the one man she allows to wear the trousers.”

Sheila forgot she was angry with Alan. “You mean your appointment is only temporary?” She was aware of a feeling of dismay.

He looked at her keenly and smiled mockingly. “That’s right. It wasn’t important before?”

Sheila colored, but went on bravely. “But you would want to be here to carry on with your medical scheme.”

Alan nodded. “That’s one reason.” He looked at her quizzically. “I could think of another.” He made no further comment.

Sheila went on with her sorting, a prey to a welter of feelings. Did he mean Clare? Or was she just being stupid?

There was silence for a while, but it was a more friendly silence. Alan looked in her direction from time to time and there was a thoughtful look in his eyes.

At last the sorting was finished and Sheila sat back on her heels. “What would you like me to do now?” she offered.

Alan looked across at her. “Could you check my list with the X-ray book? I’m afraid it’s rather a boring job. Just put an X opposite the name when they’ve had a chest plate done.”

He stood up to get the record books down from the shelf for her. He hesitated a moment.

“Sheila, if Matron gets some holiday relief later on, would you like to do a tour of our area with me?”

Sheila almost dropped the books in surprise. “In the
Sea Witch
you mean?”

Alan nodded. “Going in her wouldn’t worry you, would it? Jim would come with us, of course.”

Sheila blushed as she felt his eyes upon her. “I’d like it very much.” Her eyes began to dance and she forgot she was supposed to be angry with him. “Won’t Matron object?”

Alan grinned in a funny sort of way. “I have an idea she won’t oppose it too strongly.” There was a wicked little glint in his eyes. “She might say she couldn’t spare you until Clare gets back.”

That wicked little glint was infectious. It began to spread to Sheila’s eyes. “Somehow I don’t think Clare would approve of that.”

Alan’s gaze held her own. “Would that bother you very much, Sheila?”

Matron appeared in the doorway before Sheila could answer. She looked at the pair of them and her face softened. “I hate to disturb you when you’re both getting on so well ... with your work, I mean. But I could do with some help. Doctor Greenwood, there is an out-patient who refuses to go away, although I’ve told him very plainly that it’s your half-day. Perhaps you would deal with him.” She glanced at Sheila. “Would you mind taking over in the labor ward while I have my tea?”

Sheila looked hastily at the clock. “Is it that time already? I am sorry, Matron,” she said apologetically.

Matron smiled. “Never mind the apology, I’m sure Doctor Greenwood was making good use of your services.”

She went out, leaving Sheila and Alan staring at one another. He was the first to speak. “What’s got into the old girl? Butter wouldn’t have melted in her mouth.” He stretched and smothered a yawn. “Suppose I’d better go and deal with the man who made Matron open the side door on my half-day. Wonders will never cease. Can you come back after, Sheila?”

She shook her head and was conscious of regret. “Clare’s off tonight. Will you be at supper?”

He grinned mischievously. “I could if you want me to.” He went out through the door before she could find an answer.

Sheila looked around the little office and wondered why she was reluctant to leave it. She went in search of Matron and took over the case. She was soon immersed in the familiar task of bringing a new baby into the world. Sheila never failed to be moved by the miracle of birth, and her young face was very thoughtful as she bent over the mother.

“That’s it, Mrs. Mayne. You’re doing splendidly. Hang on to my hand, and then take a big breath.”

The woman smiled at her as she rested between her pains. “Don’t you ever get bored with having us one after another, kicking up a fuss and messing you about?”

Sheila shook her head. “Never ... no two patients are alike, and each of you has some particular need. Another pain coming? That’s it ... now hang on tight.”

Not very many minutes passed before a new sound joined in ... the thin, high-pitched cry of a newborn baby. Sheila busied herself with the usual routine and was about to lay the softly wrapped baby with its red, crumpled-looking face in the mother’s arms when Alan came in. He looked at the downy head resting against Sheila’s arm and his face softened.

“Another boy, Mrs. Mayne. That will please you.”

Sheila’s eyes showed her surprise. “How did you know it was a boy?” she demanded.

“Because he’s got big hands, silly.” He became serious. “Are you just about finished here? That chap has a broken arm and I could do with some assistance.”

It was M
r
s. Mayne who answered. “Run along, Miss Griffiths. Me and the baby will manage fine now. Just give him here.”

Sheila placed the cuddly little bundle in the crook of the mother’s arm. “I’ll leave the door ajar. Call if you want anything.” Sheila slipped off her soiled gown and followed Alan into the corridor. “You mean Matron would have sent him off with a broken arm just because it was your half-day?”

Alan glanced up and down the corridor. “That’s it. I don’t suppose she knew that, but the point is she didn’t bother to find out.” His voice was grim.

“What about an anesthetic?”

“He’s had a large meal, so it’s out of the question. I’ve given him a shot of morphia ... half a grain should hold him.”

He smiled at Sheila’s surprise. “Don’t forget I told you we Canadians were a tough lot. The normal dose wouldn’t touch a chap like this.”