Love for the Matron (9 page)

He removed the toasted crumpet from his fork and picked up the next one. “I didn
’
t mean it was anything you had done. It just happened to be the first time Susan had seen me with another woman who meant something to me.”

Elizabeth stared at him. “But Susan couldn
’
t have been more friendly right up to the time we said good night.”

He nodded. “I expect it took time to sink in and I got the result when I went o
v
er this morning. Susan wasn
’
t at school—said she didn
’
t feel well enough and Dear Emily had fussed over her until she was all worked up.
I don
’
t suppose it would have mattered if Dear Emily hadn
’
t been called away. I was doing my best to cheer Susan up, and don
’
t know what I said, but the next thing I knew Susan had hurled herself into my arms. I tried to calm her down, but it only seemed to make things worse. Eventually she must have decided that enough was enough and quietened. I got away finally, but not before she had hugged me and kissed me
...
” He glanced across at Elizabeth and flushed. “You say she
’
s only a child, but she kisses like a woman.” Elizabeth was silent as she poured out the tea. “But surely that
’
s been the first and only time,” she said finally.

He groaned. “I think so ... I wasn
’
t paying much attention before. She always puts her mouth up to be kissed when it
’
s good night or good-bye. How was I to know she regards me as more than a stray uncle?”

“I don
’
t suppose anyone has told the girl just how she
’
s supposed to feel about a man who isn
’
t a member of her immediate family.” She looked at him curiously. “But why come to me with it?”

He smiled at her pleadingly. “Because I thought you could help me out of it.”

“How?” Elizabeth eyed him warily.

“If Susan thinks we
’
re in love she
’
ll get over her crush all the sooner.” He stopped for a moment and then hurried on before she had time to say anything. “I thought if we went out together a few times she
...
”

“Oh no, we won
’
t!” Elizabeth said curtly. “I happen to like the child and I flatly refuse to be party to anything quite so cruel
...
she would hate me then.”

“I was afraid you would see it like that. But what on earth am I going to do about it?”

“I don
’
t know, but I would have thought that in all your varied experience with women you would have learned to handle one like Susan, young as she is.”

“She
’
s too young to be given a cool brush-off. Besides, we
’
re neighbors and I like old William. No, you needn
’
t bother to suggest that I go off on
my
travels again. I enjoy my life in Shenston too much now
...
I
’
ve settled down.”

“You could have a word with her father,” Elizabeth suggested desperately.

“With William? He
’
s the last person I could discuss it with
...”

There was a loud rat-a-tat on the knocker and then the front door opened.

“Don
’
t bother coming down, Miss Graham. May I have a word with you?” William Gregory followed his words up the short flight of steps.

He stood looking at them both for what seemed an age until Elizabeth spoke.

“You
’
re just in time for tea, Doctor Gregory. I
’
ll get another cup.”

He nodded briefly in Stuart
’
s direction and now he smiled at her. “I
’
ll get it ... I know where they
’
re kept.” He walked towards the kitchen
.

Stuart
’
s eyebrows went up slightly. “He seems to know his way about, and you
’
ve only just come,” he whispered mockingly.

“You forget that this is the Matron
’
s house and Miriam Brown was a patient of his as well as a friend,” she whispered back furiously.

William
Gregory
reappeared with a cup and saucer. “Sorry to have barged in on you like this, Miss Graham, but I have to take a patient to London on the five o
’
clock train. The truth is that I
’
ve really come to ask a favor of you, but if it
’
s inconvenient you must tell me and I
’
ll make some other arrangement.”

Elizabeth passed him a cup of tea and gestured him towards a chair. “Of course I
’
d be only too pleased to help. What is it?”

“I was wondering if you
’
d mind coming over this evening. I had forgotten when I arranged to go to London that it was Dear Emily
’
s whist night, until she reminded me rather testily.” He glanced towards the empty book shelves. “I thought you might like to have a browse through the library. You could borrow any you fancy until your own arrive.”

“I would be very happy to do that, Doctor Gregory. You realize of course that I won
’
t be off until eight o
’
clock,” Elizabeth told him.

“That
’
s quite all right. Dear Emily doesn
’
t go off to her little hen party until about a quarter to. Ordinarily I wouldn
’
t fuss about Susan being on her own, but she
’
s a little off color today. It could be a touch of the
‘
flu that
’
s going around. Robin
’
s off junketing with some of his pals or I could have asked him to stay in.”

He stood up. “I can
’
t tell you how grateful I am, Miss Graham. It seems rather mean to impose upon you so soon. Thank you for the tea.” He glanced at Stuart. “I thought you were going to inspect the golf course.”

“I was going to, but something cropped up. How long are you going to be in London?” Stuart inquired easily.

“Why?” Was there something you wanted me to do for you
?
I should be back by midday tomorrow unless there
’
s some hitch in the treatment for Mrs. Jones,” William Gregory said briefly.

“Someone said she had cancer ... I don
’
t suppose she knows, although she insisted that Mrs. Jones had told her herself.”

“Since you know so much you might as well know it
’
s the truth. We
’
re going to try some of the cobalt bomb treatment,” Gregory told him.

Stuart looked at him curiously. “Do you always tell your patients what
’
s wrong with them
...
I mean when it
’
s something serious like cancer?”

“T
here are worse things than cancer. It so happens that Mrs. Jones told me herself ... she had been a nurse
...
and unfortunately she had waited rather long before she came to let me tell her the diagnosis was correct. I must be on my way. Can I drop you anywhere?”

Stuart smiled and shook his head. “Not at the moment, thank you. Elizabeth and I haven
’
t settled the problem we were discussing.”

“I see. Don
’
t bother to come down,
Miss
Graham, I
’
ll tell Susan to expect you shortly after eight and thank you again.”

Slightly puzzled by something in his manner, Elizabeth watched him go and waited until she heard the front door close behind him.

“What
’
s the matter, Elizabeth? Don
’
t you know a jealous man when you see one?” Stuart laughed.

She swung round and stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Where were your eyes and your ears these past ten minutes
?
”

“So that was why you both sounded so stiff and unfriendly,” Elizabeth said slowly.

“Now you know, what are you going to do about it?” he teased her lightly.

“We were discussing your problem, not mine,” Elizabeth reminded him curtly.

He became serious. “And we didn
’
t get very far. Any new suggestions
?
”

Elizabeth sighed. “No
...
but leave it for now.
I might get some ideas when I
’
m there tonight.”

He brightened “I
’
ll keep my fingers crossed; but take it from me, teenagers are dynamite and you never know what will set them off.” He stood up and went over to the window, staring
down towards the river. “It looks higher than this morning,” he observed.

Elizabeth joined him. “How can you tell?”

“See that white post with the black markings on the other bank?” Each line represents a foot rise, and if you look out each morning you
’
ll have a rough idea whether it
’
s come up since the day before.”

“Has it been in flood since you
’
ve been in Shenston?”

He shook his head. “Only some minor ones. There
’
ve been a few scares, but the weather has always changed in time. We had some very heavy rain last week and now it
’
s moved westwards, so we could get a sudden rise.” He turned and looked at her standing so close beside him. “Have you forgiven me for last night, Elizabeth?” he asked without warning.

She stiffened slightly. “We were both at fault. Let
’
s leave it at that.” Then as he made a slight move as if to touch her, “Don
’
t spoil things, Stuart,” she said swiftly.

His eyes searched her face as if looking for something and then he sighed and moved away. “Sorry. I hope you can do something about Susan
...
I
’
d better be going. Thanks for the tea and the crumpets and for listening,” he said abruptly.

“It wasn
’
t much,” Elizabeth replied absently, her mind already racing ahead to tonight
’
s problem.

He glanced at her as if to say something and then took himself off without speaking.

Elizabeth cleared away the tea things and washed up. No doubt Annie would be offended, but she felt the need of some physical action after so much seesaw of emotion. Had Stuart been pulling her leg when he had suggested that William was jealous? And yet there had been that touch of tension and hostility between the two men from the moment William had appeared
upon the scene, and one had been as guilty as the other. When she had finished she went back to the sitting room and crossed to the window. The sun was low now and the air that touched her face held all the chill that was early March. There was no wind and the surface of the river reflected the color of the sky line like a mirror: only the swirls of current broke the smoothness of the pattern. She strained her eyes to see the white post on the other bank, but some trick of light blurred the back lines and she couldn
’
t be sure whether the river was higher or not. Had that twisted tree been quite so close to the water
’
s edge when she had looked out earlier with Stuart? She shivered a little as she shut the window and made up the fire before getting ready
t
o go back on duty.

St. Genevieve
’
s corridors were quiet as she went towards her office. The visitors would have left an hour ago and the nurses would be busy
taking
temperatures, rubbing tired backs, straightening ruffled bedclothes, doing treatments, and all the thousand and one things that must be done before they handed on the torch of duty to the night staff. She could hear Margaret Smith
’
s typewriter rattling away as she walked into her own office. The letters that had come by the late post waited on her desk and she felt the gossamer fetters of her job slip around her again. She sighed and sensed that she was safer here from the fret of emotions than she had been in the Matron
’
s house this afternoon. In these calm surroundings it was very difficult to believe there could be anything in Stuart
’
story that her senior physician had shown signs of a jealousy which might ha
v
e flattered her under different circumstances.

Elizabeth pushed away all troubling thought and picked up the report summary Miss Selby had left for her before going off on her own
half
day: six admissions, five discharges, a transfer from Women
’
s Medical to Women
’
s Surgical, an
emergency for Theatre, a stillborn baby on Maternity, an old man dying on Men
’
s Medical—a series of brief action sketches that might belong to any hospital anywhere in the country. Behind a desk in each of these hospitals sat a Matron or her deputy, and it was her light guiding touch on the threads linking her with the wards under her care that kept the machinery of administration running smoothly. She might see those wards only once a day, must read the daily reports written by others, consult with her Management Committee once a month, meet her staff in conference from time to time, and from this mass of material she must assemble enough information to deal with any situation at a second
’
s notice. The senior members of her staff might share her responsibility, but hers would have to be any final decision.

For a moment Elizabeth thought back to her days as a ward sister, as a staff nurse, when her contacts with the patients had been so very personal: now she was as remote from them as royalty and yet their concerns were even closer to her heart. Would they know it, or did they regard her merely as a shadow cast by authority, as impersonal as the brief shadow cast by the noonday sun
?

Elizabeth heard the sound of her secretary
’
s typewriter come to a halt and picked up her letters guiltily. The girl would be almost ready to go and she would want to know if there was an urgent reply to be sent off tonight. Her eyes skimmed the pages, some typewritten in formal terms, others handwritten, and some of their warmth came wafting towards her like fragrant perfume as the writers expressed stumbling thanks for services received. Elizabeth felt strangely humble as she read the words. She must remember to see that the nurses on the wards concerned saw the letters as well ... they were the ones to whom thanks were due.

Margaret Smith came in with some letters for her signature and stood waiting patiently while Elizabeth signed them.

“Is there anything else, Miss Graham?” she asked as she took the sheets from Elizabeth.

“
Nothing that can
’
t wait until the morning. Thank you very much, Miss Smith, and good night.”

“Good night, Miss Graham,” the girl said quietly, and departed.

Elizabeth leafed through the rest of the letters and then put them into the basket for Miss Smith
’
s attention tomorrow. She felt restless and idle and useless. She longed for the busy work of the wards, to be able to lift her hands and put them to some good use, and now she was barred from that by the very height of her position. Had Miriam Brown known this craving for service? Had it been pain alone that had driven her to the Children
’
s Ward to sit with the children clustered around her while she wove the magic of make-believe for them? Perhaps in a week, a month, or a year, when she was less of a stranger she could attempt to follow the older woman
’
s example. Tonight was too soon. There would be questioning eyes lifted at her approach if she appeared on the wards out of turn. They might guess why she was doing it and resent her response to the inspiration behind her action. They weren
’
t even ready to accept her as a successor to Miriam Brown, and how much less would they welcome any departure from the set routine of a Matron? Miriam Brown had achieved it, but perhaps it had taken her years of service; or had her illness given her a special entry?

Elizabeth reached into her top drawer for her folder of notes and began to draw up the changes she would have to put forth at the staff meeting on Friday. Most of the notes she worked from were in another woman
’
s handwriting.
Miriam
Brown had gone forth from these four walls, but she had left clear directions for the path her
s
uccessor might follow. She wrote undisturbed until the strokes of the town clock warned her that it was supper-time and the end of her day
’
s duty was almost in sight.

Elizabeth said good night to Night Sister and left the doors of St. Genevieve
’
s rather reluctantly. If Stuart hadn
’
t been to see her she would have looked forward only with pleasure to the thought of an evening at Castleford. Now she wondered whether the whole business was a figment of his imagination or the beginning of an awkward situation.

It was ten past eight by the time she had changed and she was glad of her coat as she started walking along the path at the foot of the castle wall. A chill wind was blowing up from the river, setting the branches rustling to make a minor symphony of sound running beneath the roar of the water rushing towards the far-distant sea. As she rounded the corner of the wall she could see the light from a torch bobbing towards her. Before she had time to wonder who it was a voice called out:

“Is that you, Miss Graham
?
”

She realized it was Susan and hurried towards her. “Surely you shouldn
’
t
be out if you
’
ve got
‘
flu, Susan,” she protested gently.

Susan laughed and slipped her arm through Elizabeth
’
s. “I haven
’
t got
‘
flu! That was just for Daddy. He gets so worried if I can
’
t give him a definite reason for not feeling up to scratch so I mentioned
‘
flu and he was quite happy to go off to London provided I wasn
’
t left alone. Since I wanted to see you again it all worked out!” She slowed her footsteps. “Have we got time to go down to see the river, or are you all cold and tired?”

Elizabeth wondered at the urgency behind the request. “We can go if you want to see it specially.”

Susan squeezed Elizabeth
’
s arm happily. “Goody! I always like to know what Old Man River is doing before I go to bed. Careful! We go down some steps here ... you can see them if I hold the torch like that.”

Elizabeth stumbled slightly on the uneven stones and was glad of Susan
’
s firm grasp. They reached a little flagged platform and Elizabeth could see a stone balustrade faintly outlined by the reflected light thrown upwards by the river. Susan let go of Elizabeth
’
s arm and shone her torch down on the water. Elizabeth stared in fascination at the surging flood, that gave an impression of tremendous unleashed power waiting for some signal to burst into rebellion against man
’
s puny restraint. Susan moved back from the railing and brushed against Elizabeth. She could feel that the child was quivering, but whether with cold or excitement or fear she couldn
’
t tell.

“Come on, Susan. Let
’
s get into the house and somewhere near a fire,” she urged.

“Yes, let
’
s. I don
’
t want to see the river any more. It frightens me sometimes and yet I love it as well. Does that make sense?”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “Of course it does. Love isn
’
t all light, and hate all dark, you know, but a mixture.”

“Is that why they say love is akin to hate? I never knew before.” Susan
’
s voice went up in her surprise. “Mind the step. Just a sec while I turn on the light.”

Elizabeth followed her into the passage. “Is Robin back yet?” she asked.

Susan turned and looked at her. “Did you want to see him as well as me ... as much as me, I
m
ean
?
”

Elizabeth gave her a warm smile. “Of course not. I was only asking a polite question. Your father said he was out with some of his friends.”

Susan did a little dance. “I know, and Daddy was wild, although he tried not to show it. Funny
how he and Robin are always striking sparks off one another. I think they try too hard to consider the other and the result is a near clash every time. What would you like to drink? Daddy said to ask you.”

“I
’
d like a cup of tea more than anything.” Elizabeth slipped out of her coat and crouched down on a low stool in front of the library fire.

“I
’
ll make you a pot of tea and
me
a mug of chocolate. Daddy said to tell you to help yourself to any of the books you liked. I won
’
t be long. Will you be all right?”

Elizabeth nodded and smiled. “Yes, thanks. I
’
ll be warm in a minute.”

The fire began to blaze up in response to her nudges with the poker, and once the edge was off her chilliness she began to explore the bookshelves. She was delighted to find several of her own favorites among the surprisingly wide selection of titles. She wondered if perhaps the collection had been begun by William Gregory
’
s father.

Susan came back with a tea-tray and set it on the floor in front of the fire, then found herself a cushion to curl up on.

“Found anything you like? Shall I pour your tea now or do you prefer hospital brew, Miss Graham?” Susan perched there like a brightly colored bird, the flicker of the flames lighting up the glorious red of her hair.

Elizabeth turned and gazed thoughtfully at her. “Not too strong, please, and milk and sugar. Most of the authors that I do know I
’
ve read. Any suggestions
?
”

Susan splashed a little tea into an empty cup and studied its color. “I think this is strong enough. There
’
s one I
’
ve been reading. I think it
’
s called
No Echo from the Sky
... a test pilot wrote it after he retired and it
’
s the nearest thing to singing prose. Oh, I don
’
t know how to explain it, but you can see and feel what he
’
s talking about even if you
’
ve never flown. It
’
s as if he
’
s polished every word and then listened to its song before he
’
s left it in. I
’
ll get it for you after. It
’
s up in my room.”