Outpost Hospital (10 page)

And what were Mark Charlton’s feelings at the sudden appearance of the woman he loved? It was hard to tell. He did not show his emotions, and having once been badly hurt he would be guarded. At the moment of recognition, when in his surprise he might have given himself away, his face had been turned from Katherine, and when he reached the house his feelings would be firmly under control.

When she couldn’t find anything else to do, Katherine reluctantly returned to the house and went straight to her room to get ready for dinner. Sitting on her bed waiting for Moses to bring her washing water, she went through her clothes in her mind. She was not going to make the contrast between herself and the new arrival greater than was absolutely necessary. Suppose she put on the oyster pink silk dress she had brought with her? Why had she brought it anyway? It had been some vague foolish idea that, if he saw her in something completely different from her usual sensible clothes, Mark might begin to think of her as a woman instead of just as a nurse. Not much chance of that now. She would need to march out wearing nothing at all to be noticed where the beautiful, soign
é
e Elizabeth Frayne was!

During the months she had been in Ngombe, Katherine’s self-confidence had gradually increased. The work had been hard and Mark had expected a lot of her, but she had never failed him. She had won the trust and affection of the patients, and the friendship and love of Andrew. She had felt more secure than she had since she was a child.

But in the past few hours this hard-won assurance had been slipping away from her and she knew she would not regain it while Elizabeth Frayne remained in Ngombe. The thought of Andrew did something to cheer her though. Dear, kind Andrew. It was comforting to know he was there, thoughtful and reliable.

Moses brought her washing water, and eventually she took from the cupboard the cream shantung dress she had not worn since Christmas Day on the train when Mark had given her the turquoise necklace. She had not worn the necklace since then either, though she had taken it from its box almost every day and looked at it, remembering the way he had fastened it around her neck, feeling again the touch of his hands on her bare skin as he fumbled with the catch.

She decided to wear the necklace that night. Before dressing she rubbed her hair vigorously with a pad of cotton wool soaked in eau-de-cologne to freshen it. She had cut it herself a few days earlier, as it was getting too long to keep neat, and now it formed a thick cap curving about her ears and falling into a soft wave at the front. After brushing, it looked quite nice, and when she had dressed and put on lipstick and the necklace, she was not too depressed at her appearance.

It was still too early to go in to dinner, so she sat at the table and quickly finished her newsletter for the vicar. Then looking through the last letter she had received from her friend Ann Jameson, she sighed. Lucky Ann! Everything seemed to be going well for her. Ann had written, “You may remember my mentioning once or twice a house surgeon called Peter Stainton.” Katherine smiled. Mentioned once or twice, indeed! Ann’s last half dozen letters had been almost exclusively about the young man. Well, now they were engaged and were to marry soon. At the end of her letter Ann had written, “Everything would be perfect if you could be at my wedding, Katherine. We always said we would be each other’s bridesmaid, didn’t we? There’s still the chance that I might be yours, though. I hope things turn out well for you. You don’t tell me much about yourself in your letters. I think I understand why, and I pray that you will find your happiness as I have done.”

Tears threatened in Katherine’s eyes as she finished the letter. Lucky, happy Ann to be in love with a man who returned her love. Katherine rejoiced in her friend’s happiness, but could not
help wondering why her own life would not run so smoothly.

Andrew and Mary Kennedy were in the sitting room when she went in later. Mary was by the window doing crochet and Andrew was playing the piano.

When he saw Katherine, he jumped up and came toward her. He stopped a short distance away and studied her appearance, his head to one side. “Mmm,” he murmured appreciatively, “you’re looking particularly bonny tonight, Kathie. Come over to the piano. I feel the urge to serenade you.”

She smiled, pleased by his admiration, but uncomfortably aware of his sister’s stiff back and set, disapproving face.

Andrew seemed not to notice it, however. He sat down and began to play and sing in a pleasant tenor voice, “My love is like a red, red rose, that’s newly sprung in June—”

At that point Mary Kennedy gave a snort, threw aside the lace mat she was working on, and stamped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Unperturbed, Andrew went on playing but broke off his song to say, “My sister thinks I should only play sacred music, especially as the piano was a gift from the Missionary Society.” He smiled his sweet smile. “Well, Robbie Burns may not have been notoriously devout but he was a grand poet. ‘So sweet art thou, my bonny lass, so deep in love am I, and I will love thee still, my dear, ’til a’ the seas gang dry.’
”

He played on quietly, his gentle eyes on Katherine’s face. She watched his hands as they moved lightly over the keys. He means it, she was thinking. He loves me and always will. She put her hand up to her throat and touched the turquoise necklace. Why couldn’t it be Mark who was looking at her with so much love in his eyes? Why couldn’t she feel toward Andrew as she felt toward Mark? If she had not known Mark she would have thought her affection for Andrew was what being in love meant. But having known the wonderful power of love, the longing, the hope and despair of it, any other emotion seemed weak and rather trivial.

The door opened and Elizabeth Frayne entered. The slightest shadow of a frown passed over the Scotsman’s face, but he stood up, smiling, to greet her.

“Please call me Elizabeth,” the newcomer begged charmingly. “Dr. Frayne sounds so horribly stiff and formal.”

“Very well, Elizabeth,” Andrew replied. “This is Katherine and I’m Andrew.”

They smiled at each other a little shyly and then Elizabeth Frayne sauntered over to the piano.

Katherine watched her with reluctant admiration. How did she manage to look so fresh and well groomed after traveling hundreds of miles in temperatures in the nineties, having had only a jug of warm water for washing, and wearing clothes that had just been unpacked? It was incredible. She wore a black sheath dress and matching stiletto-heeled shoes. Her only jewelry was a pair of jade earrings, and her shining coppery hair was swathed around her head Grecian style. She was talking to Andrew about music.

“Mark and I used to attend concerts often,” she was saying. “He must have missed them dreadfully while he has been here.”

Andrew grinned. “I suppose he must. I’m no substitute for Moiseiwitsch, I’m afraid. Do you play, er, Elizabeth?”

“A little,” she said modestly. “I don’t get much time to practise, though I do as much as I can. It keeps my hands supple for my work. May I try now?”

“By all means.”

She sat down and began to play a Brahms waltz. She played well, Katherine noted without surprise.

“Excellent,” said Andrew when the piece was finished. “You must play for us
a
gain later. Now, I’ve got a wee drop of sherry I’ve been hoarding, so I’ll go and collect Mary and we’ll all have a drink before dinner.”

He went out and Elizabeth Frayne walked over to the window and stood for a few seconds looking out. Then she shuddered and turned her back on the river and forest outside. “What a place! How anyone can live here for years and years I just can’t imagine.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad when you get used to it,” said Katherine mildly.

“I don’t see that it could be worse. It quite literally gives me the creeps. I feel as though there are insects and snakes crawling about everywhere.” She looked nervously about her as if she expected to step on a boa constrictor at any moment.

“Well, I suppose there are, well, nearly everywhere,” Katherine told her wickedly. “It’s best not to think about it too much.”

“It’s horrible! And the plumbing! It’s just nonexistent. What do you do when you want to take a bath?”

“You tell the boys and they bring the tin bath to your room; then they heat the water in old oil cans and carry it to the bath by a sort of relay system.” Katherine explained this calmly as though it was quite an ordinary way of preparing a bath.

Elizabeth Frayne shuddered again. “I thought Lagos was bad enough, but this
...”
She looked at Katherine for the first time with real interest. “Why did you come here?” she asked.

Katherine thought the question was put in a faintly impertinent way but she answered evenly, “To nurse the sick.”

“Surely there are plenty of sick people you could nurse without coming to a primitive place like this?”

“Yes, but if everyone thought like that no one would come here, and these people have as much right to help as any others.” Even to Katherine herself this speech sounded priggish, but nevertheless it was true. She wondered what was behind these questions. If Dr. Frayne did not believe Katherine’s only reason for coming to Africa was to nurse the sick, what reason did she suspect? It could not be that she regarded Katherine as any sort of rival. To the beautiful doctor she was simply an insignificant little nurse.

Half-bored, half-amused, the older woman shrugged and said, “Well, I’ll be glad to get away.”

Katherine’s heart leaped. “You ... you’re not staying long?” She tried to sound as though it did not matter to her either way.

“I certainly am not,” was the emphatic reply. “I can’t go back at once. Mark and I have not seen each other for more than a year; but as soon as we have made our plans I shall go back to England.”

At her words Katherine’s spirits sank to rock bottom again. So that was that. Elizabeth Frayne would go back to England as soon as she could, Mark would join her, and they would be married. It was what Katherine had expected. She had known that it was the only possible outcome. Elizabeth Frayne wanted Mark back and, since the only reason that he had come to Africa was because he had lost her, he would have no reason for staying.

Putting her hand up to her throat Katherine again touched the turquoise necklace. Suddenly she wished she had not put it on. She did not want Mark to see her wearing it. Seeing that the other girl’s attention was elsewhere, she quickly undid the catch and slipped the necklace into the pocket of her dress.

Andrew came in with Mark. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be hostess tonight, Kathie,” he said. “Mary has a headache and is staying in her room.”

Katherine said she was sorry and that she would take Miss Kennedy some supper on a tray, but Andrew shook his head. “Er ... no. She may be sleeping. I’ll look in later and see if there’s anything I can do for her.”

After the meal Katherine told the houseboy to put the coffee tray on a small table near the window, and the four of them left the table. The window was opened wide, for the heat was oppressive. Andrew offered cigarettes. The two girls accepted but Mark took out his pipe.

“You must show me over your hospital tomorrow, Mark,” said Elizabeth.

He nodded. “It’s small, of course, and we need to extend it a good deal before we can cope efficiently, but I think we have done some useful work despite the drawbacks and the money shortage.”

“I just can’t believe you can run any sort of hospital without electricity. Surely it’s the first essential.”

Mark smiled patiently. “It’s surprising how few things really are essential. If a thing isn’t there and there’s no way of getting it, then you have to find a way of doing without it.”

“What about staff?” was the next question. “Nurse—er
—
Barlow, is it? She isn’t your only assistant is she?”

“No. Besides Nurse Marlowe,” Mark stressed the name and Elizabeth Frayne threw an apologetic smile in Katherine’s direction, “we have half a dozen useful nurses.”

“Natives, I suppose you mean?”

“I mean Africans,” Mark reproved gently.

As the two doctors talked, Katherine and Andrew sat a little apart. Katherine replenished the cups when necessary and removed the tray when it was finished with. Sitting in the shadow as she was, she could watch the other two. With the light of the oil-lamp full upon her, Elizabeth Frayne looked more vividly beautiful than ever. Its glow burnished her hair to golden bronze and accented the smooth perfection of her exquisitely formed face and neck.

She was lovely, Katherine had to admit, and yet she noticed that, as Mark talked his eye
s w
ere not for Elizabeth Frayne alone. Occasionally he would glance out of the window, as though part of his mind were still on the hospital. She saw too, with a pang, that in his thick black hair were a few silver ones that had not been there when he left England. The lines had deepened too about his startlingly blue eyes. How handsome he looked in the white dinner jacket and black tie he had put on in honor of the visitor! The work and responsib
i
lity of the past months had left their mark on him but Katherine was sure that he would not leave it without some regret.

It was a great pity Elizabeth Frayne had come. All their hopes and plans for improving the hospital and the villages in the area might now come to nothing.

Mark pushed his pipe into his pocket and stood up, stretching his back. “I’m going over to have a look around the wards to see that everything’s all right. Coming Elizabeth?”

“Isn’t it rather late, darling? And I’m hardly dressed for work.”

“You can borrow Nurse Marlowe’s white coat,” he replied brusquely, and pulled her to her feet.

“Brute!” she pouted.