Staff Nurse in the Tyrol (13 page)

“Ah, Sonia, you are safe! The good Michael has found you. But why did you run? There was no need—it was only a quarrel.”

“But the
knife...”
Sonia stammered.

“It was only a gesture to frighten, that is all it meant,” Stefan said calmly.

Michael’s arms were no longer around her. He was moving away, and his voice was casual.

“See that Sonia gets home safely, Stefan. I must get back to the hospital. I’m still on call.”

Then there was the sound of a slamming car door, and a taxi drew away from the curb. She was alone
again ...
alone with Stefan. The man that she loved, the man who had held her tenderly as one would comfort a terrified child only minutes before, was going farther and farther away, with no second thought for her now that he had given her safely back into the hands of Stefan.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sonia
stood there on the sidewalk, unwilling to move even after Michael’s taxi had disappeared. She was conscious of Stefan standing there beside her, not touching her, not speaking, just waiting.

At last she turned to him. “I’m sorry, Stefan. I was frightened.”

He looked at her searchingly. “But why? Why was it that you ran away? My friends and I, we call. We are afraid that you may fall in the darkness, so we try to catch you before you do yourself harm.”

Sonia tried desperately to believe
him ...
that the clutching hands had been held out in kindness, not in threat. “But surely the
fight...?”

He held out his hands. “A fight? What is that? Too much to drink ... hot words ... it is
nothing...”

“But the
knife...” Sonia
shivered.

“Sometimes a foolish one is hurt, but it is often nothing but a threat. Come, we go back and have fresh coffee. You will see that your fears are for nothing.”

Sonia hung back. “But will Otto be there?”

He glanced at her in surprise, but Sonia was very conscious that there was something guarded about his manner. “He went away when you did. It is not wise for him to stay anywhere for long.”

Why couldn’t she trust him as she had before tonight? Cool reason told her that there would be nothing to fear, but instinct seized upon the change in Stefan’s manner. After all, what did she know about him, apart from what he had told her himself, and the few slim facts that Michael and Greta had let drop?

Certainty took possession of her and she looked up at Stefan calmly. “I’d rather return to the hospital,” she said firmly.

He stared at her as if unable to believe her. “You want to go back? You do not wish to stay and talk to my friends?” He sounded very hurt.

Sonia hesitated. “I have a very bad headache,” she pleaded. “It has been so hot.” It was almost true, so she was able to say it with conviction.

Stefan was all contrition. “I am so sorry. I forget that you are not used to the Austrian summer. I will call a taxi. I will take you back.”

She knew what to do. “I can go alone in the taxi if you tell the driver where to take me. I would feel that I was spoiling your evening if I knew I was taking you away from your friends.”

To her great relief he agreed. He hadn’t sensed that she was afraid to be alone with him, at least for tonight. Perhaps it was only when he was excited by meeting some of his own people that he became a stranger.

Once she was in the taxi reaction set in. Too much had happened too quickly and she felt rather lost. She was going back to the hospital. Would Greta be curious enough to ask questions? She certainly wouldn’t listen to any suggestion that Stefan was ... dangerous. Why had he been interested in her family’s financial resources? Even Otto had shown curiosity. Had they designs on the money they thought she possessed, or did they merely hope that she might spread sympathy for their cause among her parents’ wealthy friends?

She shivered again and leaned back against the seat. Her headache had become a real one now. She peered out at the dimly-lit buildings rushing past. Ahead, she could see the dark shoulder of the hills rising above Berg-Isel, and beyond the outline of the mountains blurred by low-lying cloud that stretched across their slopes like gossamer lace. For a moment she wondered if the driver was really taking her the right way, and then they started to cross the bridge over the River Sill. The hospital wasn’t much farther. She would soon be within the sanctuary of her own room and the strange happenings of this evening would seem less real and less terrifying.

How quiet the hospital seemed as she paid the driver. She had lost track of time, so it must be later than she thought. Here and there, lights marked the night nurses’
activities ...
a wakeful
patient ...
an emergency ... a case for an operation ... a casualty receiving attention. The nurses’ corridor was in darkness and only the muted sound of music suggested that some of the nurses might still be lying awake, too hot to sleep, or too weary to try.

Sonia switched on her light and stared at the white note pinned to her pillow. Very slowly she approached the bed and reached out a hand for it. How had it got there? Who had written it? Her fingers trembled a little as she unfolded the stiff paper.

Sonia, for the last time, will you be sensible and go back to England? You were in pretty hot water tonight, whether you realize it or not. A British passport isn’t the protection it used to be, you know. Another thing; I’ve admitted a case this evening that worries me. It may be nothing and I won’t be sure until I have the lab report on the lumbar puncture, but it could be polio. You’ve never seen a polio epidemic in a poverty-stricken community, have you? I hope you never do, but I have, and to put it brutally I don’t want you here when and if it happens. You’re too young and too inexperienced to be
o
f any use.
Go home ...
the sooner the better.

At the bottom of the note the signature was scrawled boldly: Michael. When had he written it? After he had come back to the hospital? Had he bribed one of the nurses to put it there for him, or had he risked coming himself? Sonia re-read it slowly and then angrily crumpled it into a tight little ball. She was about to throw it in the wastepaper basket when some sense of caution made her shove it into her drawer. Why was he in such a hurry to get rid of her? Surely he hadn’t been away from England so long that he didn’t know that England had a lot of polio cases! There weren’t many hospitals that escaped admitting at least a few during the summer months. True, they were usually transferred to an isolation hospital, but her training school had its own isolation block. She could well remember her term of night duty there.

She pulled her thoughts back to the present moment. Michael needn’t worry about her. She didn’t expect him to assume responsibility. Her anger wavered. She had been very glad when he had turned up tonight. She remembered telling him so, and then she recalled that gentle reassuring hand stroking her hair. Something seemed to let go, and she flung herself on the bed in an agony of muffled sobs. Why, had this happened to her? She hadn’t wanted it this way. She hadn’t asked for any of it.

At last she lifted herself off the bed. She felt that she had shed all the tears she possessed. Wearily she undressed, sponged her face with cool water, and crawled into bed with only a thin sheet to cover her.

For once she managed to waken herself. For a moment she wondered if she should call Greta, but as she heard the clatter of something fall on the floor she knew the other girl must be up.

Greta tapped on her door. “Are you ready? I almost forgot to call you. I sleep too late myself and in the hurry it is not remembered. What will you do with your half day off?” Greta seemed to be smiling at her, but the blue eyes were still wary.

Sonia hesitated. She hadn’t really planned anything yet. It had been too hot yesterday to think so far ahead.

“I think I will take the tram to Igls and walk toward Patsch.”

“It will be cool in the shadow of Patscherkofel. You are wise to go that way. It is pleasant on that road, not like the road to Brenner that always has cars traveling fast.”

Sonia’s legs ached as she neared the top of the hill. To the left the forests rose in tier upon tier of greenery toward the distant summit of Patscherkofel, while to her right she kept getting glimpses of the misty plain that was the floor of the Inn Valley. Beyond marched the mountain ramparts of the Hungerberg, the Sattelspitzen and the Hechenberg, with their still snow-clad peaks thrusting up against the hot summer sky. In spite of the cool patches of shade she could feel the trickles of perspiration between her shoulder-blades. Once at the top she would rest and have a cold drink from the mountain
stream...

At
last she emerged from the forest and could see the narrow trail forking left that ran in lazy zigzags up the mountainside. Swinging right in a dusty curve was her own road. Peasants worked in the fields as they had worked through the centuries, and the patient oxen waiting for the command to move on. Like an echo of things to come was the impatient sound of a tractor moving like a red toy among the st
ac
ks of hay farther down the valley. She could see the far-off splash of white that was the Stubai Glacier. A queer hum that rose and fell drew her attention across the narrowing valley, and she could see the never-ending line of traffic on the main Brenner road. She was smugly glad that she had chosen the secondary road.

She began to walk briskly down the hill. She could see the hotel that marked the bend of the road above the village of Patsch. She would walk a little farther. It wasn’t so hot now that she wasn’t climbing, and there was a breeze that rippled through the fields of ripening grain. Once or twice a car passed her, but the Austrian license plates reassured her that she wasn’t on a tourist route. Sometimes she passed groups of children and answered their soft
Gruss Gott
with her own shy one.

Sonia was glad she had come. It was the first time she had been away from St. Anton on her own since she had arrived, and it was perfect bliss to have only herself to consider. It was as if she was being given an interval of peace before being drawn back into the struggle. For now she knew that she wasn’t going back to England whether there was a polio epidemic or not, no matter what Michael or anyone else might say. She was going to stay and see her job through.

As the shadows began to lengthen Sonia started to think about her return. She had walked much farther than she had intended. She would find out about buses in the next village. She could see it tucked away in a cleft in the mountainside, almost lost in the shadow of the forests that towered above the clearing where the cottages were. It was cold in the deep shade, and the gloom was so depressing that she wondered why they had built it there. Perhaps it was sheltered from the winter storms. She found the
Posthalten
sign where any bus would stop and studied the time table that seemed to be made up mostly of exceptions. She had
seen one bus pass her, and surely it would have to return to Igls eventually ... but when? She began to feel tired and hungry. She had eaten her sandwiches a long time ago. A cafe tempted her. She would have some coffee and ask about buses. They would know.

The cafe, resplendent with very modern fittings made from the local woods, seemed to strike an alien note in that sleepy village, as much as the gleaming Espresso coffee machine. There was no one else in the cafe other than the young girl who served Sonia her coffee. She didn’t seem to understand the halting German phrases, but at last Sonia understood that a bus left at four o’clock. It was only a quarter to, so she drank her coffee leisurely and glanced through the pile of illustrated German magazines.

Sonia went out into the sunlit square and gathered with the little knot of people that had collected under the
Posthalten
sign.

She smiled at one of the women, pointed to the sign, and said, “Igls?”

The woman smiled in return and replied,
“
Nein, Matrei.
”

It was several minutes before they made her understand that the last bus to Igls, in fact the only bus, would be at eight o’clock. But if she liked to come with them to Matrei, which was where this road joined the main Brenner road, she could find out about other buses or perhaps a train. By the time she had sorted out this information the little green bus had arrived, so there was nothing to do but climb aboard and trust that she had understood them correctly.

The bus wasted no time in dallying. The driver seemed to think that he was late already, as he hurried the bus around blind corners, over bridges, uphill and downhill at a speed that made her wonder if it wouldn’t have been better to walk. Matrei was down in a narrow valley where the river ran wildly until it was diverted to provide power for the town. It seemed to be early closing day, but at last she found a cafe' near the bus stop. One of the men spoke a little English.

“Only two buses to Igls—one morning, one night. Ask at the
station ...
perhaps they tell you the right train.”

Sonia thanked him and plodded wearily along the narrow dusty street that seemed to be filled to overflowing with the heavy
traffic that roared its noisy way through the town. The station looked very small and very deserted. She found a booking clerk who glanced at the big clock over his head.

“Igls ... two hours ... slow train stops.”

Sonia gazed at him in dismay. Two more hours to wait! She looked at the hot, airless waiting room with its empty benches and went back to the main entrance. Cars and trucks passed endlessly, slowing slightly as they came to the railway crossing. She walked along the narrow sidewalk, crossed the track and stood on the grassy verge facing the oncoming traffic. Tentatively and pleadingly she lifted one hand. To her astonishment a big truck jerked slowly to a standstill, ignoring the hooting line of traffic piling up behind it. The driver was leaning out of his cab, beckoning to her. Almost unable to believe her luck, Sonia ran forward.