Love for the Matron (12 page)

He sighed. “Dear Emily has built-in radar, I
’
m convinced. She always just happens to have heard or seen or thought ... at the critical moment. I
’
ve never been able to decide whether she actually knows as much as she suggests she does or whether it
’
s part of a soft
e
ning-up process designed to encourage you to tell Dear Emily all. I have a suspicion that Robin and Susan reverse the procedure and run Dear Emily round in such tight circles that they end up by doing precisely what they like leaving Dear Emily thinking she
’
s in charge whereas in fact she is merely dizzy. I suppose there
’
s a better answer if I could bring myself to get down to it. If Robin does go ahead with his idea of technical college it means Susan will be on her own with not much young life coming and going at Castleford.”

“Has she gone back to school today?”

He nodded. “Yes, she said she felt much better
...
murmured something about having a good chat with you that had helped, or something.”

Elizabeth suppressed a smile. “It was only something about the ups and downs of adolescence,” she said non-committally. “I expect Dear Emily is a bit far from her generation to be of much help.”

He chuckled unexpectedly.
‘
I
wonder
i
f people like Dear Emily were ever young or whether they emerged from the egg fully fledged. She
’
s been with us nearly twenty years and I can
’
t honestly say I
’
ve noticed any change, unless her tongue has got a t
ri
fle sharper.” He passed his cup. “Is there another one in the pot
?
By the way, you must have made quite an impression on Anthony Hingston. I met him and he was singing your praises
...
most unusual for him.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Just as he was leaving he made an odd remark
...
something about your being just what the doctor ordered, but he did think doctors should try their own prescription sometimes
.”

Elizabeth poured herself a second cup. “He seemed a somewhat disillusioned man. I can
’
t
think
what he meant by that remark. Do you
think
there
’
s much danger of the flood recurring?”

William Gregory twitched at her bait obediently.

“
I
think there
’
s still a chance. There
’
s been so much rain this winter that all the land is water-soaked so that when we have a fresh downpour it races down to the nearest stream and so on. It means that all the country to the west of us is like a brimming saucer and it won
’
t take many drops to tip it in our direction. It would need a lot of sun and high winds to dry us out sufficiently to say there will be no floods. The trouble is that there
’
s just long enough between disasters for the powers-that-be to say that it
’
s not likely to occur again so why go to the expense of flood embankments and repairing old dykes—some of which go back to Roman times, and so on. There
’
s always the hope that it won
’
t happen again, that the Government will have changed, or there
’
ll be someone else on the Council, and then
they
won
’
t be charged with wasting the tax-payers
’
money or putting up the rates ... Oh, before I forget,
I think Sister Allison may be coming to see you about changing her holiday dates. I knew she was tremendously fond of spring flowers and I happened to mention a group that was being made up
to
tour the bulb fields of Holland in time for their Flower Festival.”

“I suppose there
’
s no need to ask whether the date coincides with the transfer of her patients to Men
’
s Surgical.”

“It
’
s a day earlier, actually, as the party assembles in London for a get-together with films and lectures on what they will be seeing during their fortnight. Well, I
’
d better be starting my round. I don
’
t think a near-flood will be taken as sufficient excuse for being late, do you?” he asked calmly.

Elizabeth began to open her letters as soon as he had gone. She thought action might take the edge off her annoyance. So William Gregory didn
’
t trust her to handle her own Senior Sister tactfully enough. He had to interfere and pull his own strings to avoid the clash he was sure Elizabeth didn
’
t have the experience or skill to avert
...
By the time she had finished going through the mail and had arranged with Margaret Smith to do the ones she wouldn
’
t be answering personally, she had recovered her temper. She was about to start her own ward round when the secretary came back to say that Sister Allison would be grateful for a few minutes.

“Ask her to come in, Miss Smith.”

Had William Gregory gone straight to the ward and suggested to Sister Allison that she might find the Matron in a receptive mood this morning? But one look at Sister Allison
’
s face dispelled this belief. The older woman was too obviously finding it difficult to approach Elizabeth at all.

“Do sit down, Sister Allison. Isn
’
t it a relief that the river is going down?”

Sister Allison snatched at this last remark. “I hadn
’
t liked to ask you before, Miss Graham, while there was any danger of St. Genevieve
’
s having to be evacuated, but now that the danger appears to be past, I was wondering if I might take my holidays earlier.”

Elizabeth was careful not to appear too eager. “It might have been very difficult to spare you, Sister, but as you say the flood seems to be past its worst. When did you want to go?”

Sister Allison sat very straight on the edge of her chair. “In ten days
’
time, Miss Graham
...
less if I might be allowed to add my week-end on to my holidays,” she said jerkily, as if resenting the utterance of any word that might sound like begging a favor.

Elizabeth made a show of consulting her calendar. “I think that could be arranged, Sister Allison, I
’
ll mention it to the Treasurer so that you can draw your holiday pay before you go if you wish.”

Sister Allison got stiffly to her feet. “I
’
ll be getting back to my ward, then, Miss Graham.” It was the nearest to thanks that she could manage.

When she had gone out Elizabeth allowed herself
a sigh that was half relief and half exasperation. Her problem was settled, but now she would never know whether she could have handled the situation as well. She would be the first to admit that hospital administration to be successful had to be good teamwork, but the trouble here was that she seemed to be playing in with the wrong team. There was always a small gulf traditionally between medical and nursing staff, and at the moment she appeared to be on the opposite side of the chasm, confronting her own staff instead of standing with them. Elizabeth made a careful note of Sister Allison
’
s holiday dates in her diary and stood up. Where would she begin her round this morning? She didn
’
t feel like facing Sister Allison again quite so soon and if she began with the Children
’
s Ward she would have less time for the other wards. In the end she decided on Maternity.
At
least the babies would be too young to answer back and their mothers would be replete with maternal good nature and their feelings of accomplishment.

The main ward was bright with spring flowers and the mothers who were already up slopped cheerfully about with trays of tea or sat folding dressings and talking lazily about the homes they had left. They were making the most of these precious leisure hours that they would not know again until their new babies were past the nappy stage or they were having another one. They showed Elizabeth their knitting and their sewing and accepted her interest as their right.

“Matron, are you going to have to move us to the Guild Hall?” one young mother asked anxiously.

Elizabeth shook her head. “Not at the moment, but if we do have to transfer patients later on, naturally you
’
ll be among the first because of the babies,” she explained reassuringly.

“It
’
s our homes we
’
re really worrying about
...
whether the men will think to move the furniture upstairs in time. It
’
s all so much easier when we
’
re there to see to it ourselves,” one of the older women said with a sort of patient resignation.

“We
’
ll hope it doesn
’
t happen,” said Elizabeth comfortably.

Sister Collins came hurrying up the
w
ard. “I
’
m so sorry. I didn
’
t know you were here, Matron.”

Elizabeth smiled at her. “It
’
s all right, Sister. I knew you were busy in the labor ward. Was it a boy or a girl
?
”

Sister Collins
’
motherly face softened. “One of each ... it was twins.”

There was a murmur of surprised applause from the patients, although one was heard to murmur: “And her with three already! No doubt the Council will give her a larger house. I suppose that
’
s something.”

Elizabeth walked towards the ward door with Sister Collins. “I won
’
t keep you, Sister. I know you must be busy. How many would be
s
tretcher
cases if we do have a hurried evacuation?” She lowered her voice.

“There
’
s only two mothers with stitches and of course the twins
’
mum. The rest can walk with a bit of encourag
e
ment and coaxing.” Her eyes met Elizabeth
’
s calmly. “There won
’
t be much fuss and bother up here, Matron. It
’
s the old ones on the medical wards that get upset.”

Elizabeth took her departure wondering whether Sister Collins was referring to elderly patients or elderly ward sisters. She decided that it was just as well she didn
’
t know. She met Anthony Hingston coming out of Men
’
s Surgical.

“Good morning, Matron, Would you have any of your excellent coffee to spare?” he asked rather abruptly.

Elizabeth looked at him sharply. “Yes, Mr. Hingston. Have you been operating?”

He nodded. “Have I got that drawn look? Yes, this morning, and an emergency during the night. The
‘
flu seems to have knocked more of the stuffing out of me than I thought.”

Elizabeth led the way back to her office. “Surely one of the other men would have stood in for you,” she suggested.

“Two o
’
clock in the morning isn
’
t exactly the hour you like to tell a colleague that you would prefer to remain in your bed,” he said wryly. “He either thinks you
’
re joking or malingering, and at any rate he
’
s not amused.”

Elizabeth stopped to ask Margaret Smith to bring coffee before seeing Anthony Hingston to a chair. She glanced at him and then crossed the room and opened the window. A bar of sunlight fell on his face showing up its pallor and the beads of sweat on his forehead.

He took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. “Thanks, Matron. I
’
ll be all right in a moment. That
’
s a nice bit of fresh air.”

Margaret Smith came in with the coffee and put it quietly on the desk, Elizabeth picked up the
nearest cup and sugared it liberally before giving it to her senior surgeon.

“Put that inside you, Mr. Hingston,” she told him firmly.

He obeyed meekly and a tinge of color warmed his thin face. “Could I have another, Matron, please, and then I
’
ll be as right as a lark in the spring.”

Elizabeth poured him another. “Why don
’
t you do the sensible thing and take the rest of the day off
?
Let your wife put you to bed and give you a bit of fuss
...”