Nurse Trent's Children (13 page)

“I know what they are. You are going to ask how Christabel got as bad as this, and why I never noticed. I can give you an answer now, Dr. Malcolm. I don’t know how it happened. I just don’t know.”

“The coffee,” said Dr. Malcolm, “is getting cold.” He pushed the tray at her and went as far as the steps.

“Explain to Elvira that she is to remain until relieved, then come straight back again. Understand?”

“I
...”

“If you don’t,
I’ll
drag you down. Now hurry.” He gave her a little push that set the cup rattling. With an effort Cathy steadied it before it slopped over, and hurried up the steps.

She told Elvira what the doctor had said, and Elvira nodded calmly.

“I want to stay, Aunty Cathy. It’s all I can do.” Her eyes followed Cathy with admiration.
She is applauding me,
Cathy shivered.
She is applauding me instead of censuring me, which is all I deserve.

She went down the stairs again.

He had poured the coffee and raided the biscuit tin.

“Well, shoot,” he invited.

“What do you mean?”

“You
want to get it off your chest, don’t you? The repercussions, the wailing, the would-to-God-I-had, all that.”

Cathy said quietly, “I have no excuses; as I just told you, Christabel’s crisis was on me before I realized it. That is all I can say.”

Her eyes were downcast. When he did not answer she forced herself to look up. Instead of accusation, she saw sympathy and understanding. It was such unmistakable understanding that she gasped.

“You little fool,” he said, “I’m not blaming you. I’ve had these cases before. They’re sudden death.”

Cathy said, “This one almost was.”

“Yes. The thing I can’t understand is how she missed immunization.”

“
Did she miss it? Isn’t there a chance she still could have con
t
racted the germ afterward?”

“So slender it is no chance at all. Did you have time to check with any of the other girls?”

“Yes. Janet. She said they had all been immunized.”

She was thoughtful a while. “Christabel joined Little Families later than the rest,” she said slowly. “She came to the preembarkation home about the same time as I did, and that was only a month before
w
e sailed.”

“So there might have been a slipup?”

“Yes.”

“We won’t take any risk. Tomorrow we’ll think about some booster injections for
all
the kiddies. Anyone else looking poorly?”

“Avery. But I examined her throat very carefully. I am sure it was only her usual chill.”

“After this evening’s performance I’ll take your word for that, Nurse Trent.”

“Besides giving me a few words of your own?”

He looked at her sharply. “Expecting them, aren’t you? Yes, I have a few words, but not the sort you anticipate. For instance, I am brushing aside everything that led up to Christabel’s sickness; I have had too much experience in these unfortunate incidents not to appreciate how horribly, how terrifyingly easily they can occur.”

Cathy drew a deep breath of relief.

“Then
...?
”
she asked.

“The words of censure, you mean?”

“Yes.”

He drained his coffee and put down the cup.

“I am not going to inquire
why
you deceived me into the belief you had no training.”

“I did not deceive you. I simply said I was not a trained nurse.”

“A deceit and you know it, however
...”
He spread his palms.

Cathy went to rise. “That is all then?”

“It is not. Sit down, Nurse Trent.”

“I am not Nurse Trent.”

“You soon will be.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You are finishing your career here. In fact, you will sit for the forthcoming Australian final examination.”

“I shall do no such thing. It does not appeal to me.” He made a gesture as though to dismiss her statement, but she ignored him. “I am English trained; I do not know Australian methods.”

“They are the same methods. You mentioned you went to St. Cloud.”

“Yes.”

“That is a reciprocal training hospital with the training hospitals here.”

“Dr. Malcolm, you are overstepping your authority. I know what I intend doing with my life.”

His face darkened. He had that American Indian look again.

“You will sit for your finals, Miss Trent, or I shall have a word to say to the board.”

“The possession of a nursing diploma was not required when I joined the staff of Little Families.”

“It has always been required. It is only recently, owing to employment difficulties, that the requirement has been
temporarily
waived.”

She looked helplessly at him. “Why are you so anxious that I finish my career?”

“Because a woman with a career is less likely to fall, like a ripe peach, into the first willing hands.”

“I don’t understand you.”

He looked steadily back at her, seeing instead of the white kitchen an autumn hill, two figures, fingers that intertwined. “Besides
...”
he said.

“Yes?”

“You want it yourself. Deep in your heart you know you want it.”

“I don’t.”

“Again you lie. You know you lie. You know you have never stopped regretting that lost diploma. You were keen enough to work through the drudging years, and when the end was in sight you lost hold of the reward. You must have liked your work to have stuck to it. You must be conscious of something short of the fulfillment for which you strove. Be honest with yourself, Trent—if that is possible.”

She ignored the brutality in his voice. She searched her heart. Yes, it was true. She
did
regret it. Every letter she received from Helen, every letter she wrote to Judith, had that regret somewhere between its lines. To be so near and yet so far away from achievement. As far, really, in bare words, as the rawest probationer, for she, too, was uncertificated.

He was watching her closely. “Well?” he asked.

“I don’t want to leave Redgates.”

“You needn’t.”

“Then how?”

“You can brush up privately, then sit with the nurses at the Northern District Hospital.”

“Is that permitted?”

“Only on occasion. This is an occasion. Leave that part of the business to me.”

“I’d never pass. I’ve gone rusty.”

He raised his brows. “In two
...
three months?”

“It’s not the amount of time, it’s the different environment. I haven’t been thinking in terms of nursing.”

“You were tonight.”

“That was an emergency. Anyone would do that.”

“Not anyone.” It was his only commendation, and it was brief and unadorned.

She flushed.

“I couldn’t, Dr. Malcolm,” she said presently. “I haven’t my notes. I have forgotten a terrible lot of things.”

“They’ll return with tutoring.”

“Whose tutoring?”

He paused, then said deliberately, “Mine.”

“Yours?”

“Is there anything so unusual in that? I can instruct on such matters, hard though it might be to believe.”

“I believe you, only
...”

“Yes?”

“You wouldn’t have time.”

“I’d make time.”

“
I
wouldn’t have time.”

“Then you must make time, too. Your children sleep, don’t they? My patients sleep as well. After evening office hours, I suggest, and starting in a week. Christabel will be in hospital then and in good hands. There will be nothing to disturb us.”

“It is an order, Miss Trent.”

“I don’t know why you are bothering like this.”

“I told you. The ripe peach
...
”

She went a vivid red.

“And the degree less of fulfillment that, to me, seems a mighty waste of time and effort.”

There was a silence.

“I’m waiting,” he said.

Cathy looked at him and shrugged. “It seems futile to answer if you already have everything settled.”

“It is futile. It is settled. But I just thought I’d like some show of approval. What is worrying you, Miss Trent? Not the same worry about the proprieties as before?” His eyes probed, then laughed insolently at her.

She remembered the night of her arrival here. It seemed she would always be reminded of it.

“Because if
that
is the trouble, I might assure you of Mrs. Williams. She is always present.
”

“Mrs. Williams
... Y
ou mean we would have the lessons there?”

“At my office, yes. My books are handy. I have to be on call to my patients. Besides
...
”
He looked at her enigmatically.

“Besides?”

“Mrs. Williams is a much more efficient chaperon than a parcel of brats. I know that will appeal strongly to your prudent—or is it prudish
—
soul?”

“You are a queer man.” Cathy had risen definitely this time.

“I must go up,” she said, “and relieve Elvira.”

He did not try to delay her, and without another word she ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Elvira sat like a statue. “She’s all right,” she whispered.

“Good. Now you trot off.”

“Is doctor relieving you later?”

“Yes, Elvira.”

“And you’ll sleep, too?”

“Yes.” Cathy said it, but just then she believed she would never sleep again.

The hours went by. She kept her eyes on the shining orifice that protruded from the bandages.

She started when Dr. Malcolm came in and indicated briefly with a nod of his head that it was his turn.

She went stupidly to her room and flung herself down on the bed. She did not undress. For all her belief that sleep would never come, she closed her heavy eyes and did not open them until the next morning.

CHAPTER TEN

The ensuing weeks c
rowded in on Cathy. They crowded Elvira and Mrs. Ferguson and Dr. Malcolm as well. They crowded everyone attached to Little Families, even the weekly voluntary helpers. There was much to do, and it had to be done promptly.

The health authorities had insisted on wholesale fumigation, and this meant makeshift dormitories for the children, scratch meals, the heartbreaking task of settling the children in again and getting back to an established routine.

The early part of the week they had had Christabel to contend with as well, but as soon as she had been able to be shifted an ambulance had taken her to hospital, where later they would be allowed to talk to her through a gauzed window a prescribed distance away.

Precautions, precautions
...
It seemed to Cathy that all at once her entire life was pivoting around the necessity of playing safe. When Christabel departed she faced the arduous duty of going through the children’s medical records and checking up any of them who might have missed a booster needle before they left England. Unless it was definitely stated on the sheet, Dr. Malcolm took no risk and injected again.

When the girls were finished, the boys were tackled. David was in Melbourne now and not aware of the rush of events at Redgates. He wrote regularly, telling Cathy of the different aspects of the different Little Families Homes he had visited, and she wrote hastily back but never mentioned their need of him. After all, she thought, by the time he returned most of the trouble would be over.

One morning she was in the office sorting the records when Dr. Malcolm strode in.

“There’s a doubt about Denise Lane,” she murmured, not looking up.

“There’s a doubt about Catherine Trent, too,” he said quietly.

He took the sheet away from her, pushed aside the pen and blotter and, bending over, took firm hold of her wrist.

She tried to pull away, but with a flick of his own wrist he pulled the reluctant arm back. “Don’t be silly, Trent.”

“I’m all right.”

“That’s for me to say.”

“I should think I’ve outgrown childish ailments.”

“Since when have you been an M.O. as well as a nurse?”

“I am not a nurse.”

“Not yet. We’ll discuss that presently. Meanwhile, have you any significant symptoms? Sore throat, swollen glands, temperature, pulse?”

She nodded toward his encircling hand. “You should know about the pulse.”

“I do. It’s normal. It’s not even beating faster because I am holding it.”

“Should it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how you act with men. Does your heart race, for instance, when Kennedy takes your hand?”

“He is not in the habit of taking it.”

“It was you who took his then?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Oh, come now, no more lies. Cast your mind back to the golden days of autumn. A romantic season, autumn—especially on a hilltop hand-in-hand
...
”

“Dr. Malcolm, I don’t follow you.”

“The forehead of the hill overlooking Redgates—a very public spot, Miss Trent
.
I
would have chosen better.”

Cathy flushed. It was really a flush of annoyance, but the pink suffusing her fair skin made of it more a tender glow than one of indignation. Her eyes, sparkling with anger, appeared shining with memory, her lips, trembling with words she would have liked to fling, seemed soft and vulnerable and ready for kisses. Kennedy’s kisses? That, anyway, was what Dr. Malcolm thought. Abruptly he dropped her wrist.

“We’ll do Denise this afternoon. Now, about your finals
...
”

“I’ve been thinking it over, Dr. Malcolm. I will not have time.”

“We’ve had all that out before.
You’re finding
the time.”

“I don’t want to do it.”