Staff Nurse in the Tyrol (6 page)

“Let’s sit by the window. It is cooler.” Greta said. “The other nurses will come when Sister Therese has finished the round.”

Sonia began to eat eagerly. “I’m starved! Supper was a long time ago.”

Greta looked at her thoughtfully. “You are fortunate to have come to St. Anton
now.
Two years ago, one year ago, we had less and it was not enough. But what could we do? We had little money to buy food for our families, and there was nothing left for ourselves ... nothing.”

Sonia subsided into silence and thought guiltily of all that she had been showered with by her parents, of the hospital meals that she had grumbled about. Were Michael and Stefan right when they told her she was too young? She crumbled her roll and ate it uneasily. A few moments ago it had seemed so crisp and fresh, and now it tasted as dry as cotton wool.

“Finish your coffee and I will ask for more if you wish some.”

Sonia drained her cup quickly. “Yes, please.”

She looked around the dining room. It was filling up now, and she recognized some of the girls from yesterday. They were smiling at her and she felt reassured. They were friends. She would have a place here at St. Anton, and she would not be a stranger for long.

The laughter of the children greeted their return. Small hands reached out to tug at their aprons.

Greta glanced apologetically at Sonia. “They want us to tell them a story. But it will have to be after the work is done.” She waved to the children, telling them to wait. She turned back to Sonia. “The children, they will always wait for a story.”

Together Greta and Sonia followed Sister Therese around the ward, the side rooms, the nurse
r
y for the smallest children, the dressing ward, with Greta acting as interpreter. Sister Therese showed her department off with such pride that Sonia could only see it through her eyes; the gleaming paint, the spotless appearance of everything, the neatness with which everything was arranged. Only afterward did she remember the pitiful lack of so many things that she had taken for granted in her hospital at home—the much-mended linen, the old-fashioned equipment that was shown up so strongly whenever there was some small item such as a modern syringe sterilizer, the rows of newly-washed dressings.

They came back toward Sister
Therese
’s office, and Sonia could hear men’s voices. Was it time for a round so early? She glanced at Greta, who listened to the nun’s quick words before turning to Sonia.

“Sister Therese must go now. She would like you to help me with the dressings. Please, if you come.”

Greta drew Sonia back along the corridor. “Come, we must be ready. It is Michael’s round this morning and he insists that he see each one done. It means much work, but one does not argue with Michael Bradbury, as you will discover quite soon.”

They found a junior nurse assembling the children outside the dressing ward. Judging by their bandages they were mostly mastoid cases. There were shouts of delight at Greta’s appearance that the junior nurse tried vainly to hush.

Greta held up her hand. “Sh-sh!”

There was silence as if by magic, and then Greta drew Sonia through into the dressing ward. Another nurse was busy dishing up instruments onto a tray. Greta checked her preparations swiftly and then gestured to Sonia.

“Bring the first child in. Anyone will do,” she added as Sonia hesitated.

Feeling like a very new probationer Sonia opened the door and touched the child nearest to her.

To her relief the child came without question and sat down on the stool beside the dressing table.

“Can you take off the bandage, Sonia, if you please? Put the bandage in that tin at the end of the table. We are not able to use new bandages very often.”

The child chattered merrily to the other two nurses, and she managed to make Sonia feel included. There was the sound of approaching footsteps, a sudden hush fell, and then the door opened. Michael came in, glanced around, and then closed it. He made a little bow to the group in the dressing ward. “Good morning, nurses. What do we have first?”

As the line moved slowly through that dressing ward, Sonia saw an unsuspected side of Michael unfold itself. He had a word for
every child. His patience never faltered and he would take endless pains to win a child’s confidence rather than frighten him. His hands moved with a sureness and gentleness that seemed almost to contradict the overbearing self-assurance he had shown Sonia earlier. It also seemed to refute Greta’s contention that he had no tenderness for people. He threw her an occasional glance, but Sonia couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t as impersonal as those he accorded the rest of the little team.

As the last child was ushered out, Michael stood up. “That’s it, girls. You may down tools until tomorrow.”

Greta laughed scornfully. “And is the kind Doctor Bradbury going to make the beds for us, give out the medicines, and tell the stories to the children?”

“I can always tell stories, but the rest is women’s work. How are you fueling, Sonia?”

She felt herself coloring under the curious gaze of the other two girls. “Better, thank you. You were right. It was lack of sleep.”

Michael seemed to be examining her appearance with clinical criticalness. “H’m, still a trifle pale. Perhaps you’re not used to the Austrian sun.”

Sonia responded this time by blushing scarlet, much to the amusement of all.

Greta began to clear away the dressing trays, and Sonia went to help her.

Michael moved toward the door. “I’ll say goodbye for now. When are you two off duty today?”

Sonia glanced at Greta and the other girl answered reluctantly. “I’m off this afternoon and I think Sonia will be off after I return. It is the lecture on Public Health today. The nurses, they must go, but
not Sonia ...
not until she understands German better.”

Michael said something to Greta in German that Sonia couldn’t catch. The other girl looked sulky for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders.

“It is not for me to arrange such things. It is for you to speak to Sister Therese if you do not approve of her plans
.
”

Michael seemed about to make some angry retort and then turned on his heel and went out.

“What’s the matter?” Sonia asked after a pause.

Greta frowned. “There is nothing that is wrong. It is Michael who is not in order. He does not think it right that you should be left on the ward alone this afternoon. He makes a foolish fuss. You have the training. The language is not so important when the things that you do are always the same. The children will be resting. The visitors do not come today. Sister Therese will only be away one hour.”

Sonia nodded. “I’ll be all right. Shall I finish those dressing trays? It will give me a chance to see where things are kept.”

Greta smiled gratefully. “Would you? It will be of great help. I must attend to the special diets. Tomorrow I will show you, but today it is quicker if I do it alone.” She went off with Elsa.

Sonia was glad to be alone. It was a strain always trying to understand someone else’s language. Greta spoke quite good English, but her accent often changed the sound of a word so much that it might as well have been in a foreign tongue. She enjoyed clearing up after the morning’s dressing session. As far as she could tell, treatments were carried out the same way as in her own training school. She was putting away the last of the instruments when Sister Therese appeared in the doorway.

She smiled at Sonia and then touched her on the arm.
“Kommen Sie bitte.
”

Sonia smiled back. At least that was something that required
no translation ...
smiles were international. She wondered where the nun was taking her. They stopped outside a door. The nun peered through the glass panel and then beckoned to Sonia to follow her into the room. There were several cots with small babies, all of whom were protesting their hunger. Sister Th
er
ese caught up the nearest one in her arms, rocking it to and fro with a soothing gesture before she collected a feeding bottle from a dish of hot water. Then she pointed firmly at a chair, indicating that. Sonia should sit down. As soon as Sonia was seated, the nun put the baby in her arms, handed her the feeding bottle, and patted her.

When she had seen that Sonia had started feeding the infant, the nun went around each cot, changing the diapers and crooning
softly to the babies, who seemed to understand that someone was going to do something about their empty tummies, and stopped their crying.

Sonia finished feeding her small charge, put the baby up over her shoulder, and began to pat its back. The nun nodded approvingly and then pointed at the tags on the rest of the feeding bottles and then toward the name plates on the cots. She went to the door, nodded encouragingly to Sonia once more, and went out.

Sonia quite happily fed one baby after another. This was a far easier morning than she had expected. Of course once she was working on the adult wards it wouldn’t be nearly as easy, but by that time she would have more German phrases to juggle.

She had reached the last baby, who took his feed very slowly and kept stopping to regard Sonia with large blue eyes.
“Bitte, Liebling,
”
she coaxed.

The baby responded by pulling the nipple out of his mouth and gurgling at her happily.

“You have to be firm about it, Sonia. He’s playing you up.”

Startled, Sonia glanced toward the door. She hadn’t heard Michael come in.

“He’s rather sweet. I expect he’s had all he wants anyway.” Expertly she put him across her shoulder and rubbed his back.

The baby cooed and put out a chubby hand to clutch at her hair.

Michael laughed, but it was gentle laughter without mockery. “You seem to have a way with the kiddies,” he remarked.

Sonia disentangled the small fist from her hair. “I like babies,” she said quietly.

Michael looked at her sharply. “You should get married and have some of your own, then.”

Sonia glanced at him warily. “I will some day. I’m not in any hurry.”

He snorted. “I’d forgotten. You’re the girl who has never been in love.”

“You needn’t make it sound like a crime.”

He moved restlessly around the small room, picking up the charts, pausing to play with one of the babies. All the time Sonia was conscious of his presence, and she had a feeling that for some reason he was resenting her.

“Did you want something?” she asked in final desperation.

He looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m always wanting something, but there isn’t anything
you
can do about it. I doubt if you’d understand. You’re
too...”

“Don’t tell me that I’m too young!” she burst out angrily. “Is understanding something that comes with gray hairs? I thought it was a willingness to listen sympathetically to someone.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Michael said moodily. “I’ll try your sympathetic ears some time. Not now, I have work to do. There’s a clinic to finish, and then I’m on emergency this afternoon. Stop spoiling that baby!”

Sonia looked down at the child in her arms and smiled at its sleepy face. “This kind of spoiling never hurt anyone,” she said softly. “Perhaps if you’d had more of it,
you’d...”

“Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about, you sentimental little fool!”

His anger seemed to take both of them by surprise, and he had the decency to look somewhat ashamed.

“Sorry, Sonia,” he muttered. “It’s not your fault.
”

The door shut firmly behind him and the nursery seemed unexpectedly empty without him. Sonia tidied everything away and left a row of freshly washed bottles in the rack. Perhaps she had better find Greta. It must be nearly
lunchtime...

“What did Michael want?” Greta opened the door.

“I don’t know ... unless he was just doing his round,” Sonia said uncertainly.

She wished she knew more about the daily routine so that she could know what to expect. She also wished Greta wouldn’t flit from sunshine to storm with quite such bewildering rapidity.

“He’s already done it ages ago. What did he say?”

Those blue eyes could be disconcertingly probing, and Sonia moved uneasily.

“Nothing really. He seemed very cross about something.”

Greta stamped her foot. “It pleases you to make the mystery! I tell you it does not please me! Before you come all is well between
Michael and me. Now it is not so. He has changed, and it is you who are to blame!”

Sonia shrank away from her. “Greta! You must listen. It’s nothing to do with me, I promise you. It happened when he
w
as only a boy.”

Greta stared at her unbelievingly. “When he was a boy? You did not know Michael before, or so it is you tell me. Was it a lie you tell?”

“No! No, of course not. His parents didn’t want him to be a doctor. They didn’t help him or encourage him, and it was so difficult for him. Can’t you understand?”

“How can I understand? He is a doctor now, and what does it concern you that which went before?” Greta said unwillingly.

Sonia pleaded with her. “It’s because I’m English that it reminds him. Al
so it’s because I made a stupid remark...”

Unexpectedly Greta smiled. “So he scolds you too? I think I believe you now. I am sorry that I did not before. Come along. We eat lunch now, and then we feed the children when we come back. Okay?”

Sonia sighed with relief. “I’m starved! I miss my bacon and eggs for breakfast.”

Greta put a friendly arm through hers. “Michael tells me I have hot temper. You must not take me so seriously.”

Sonia looked up from the stack of charts. What was that sound? She glanced down the long ward. Most of the children were lying on top of their covers in an attempt to keep cool, and they seemed to be dozing. A couple of the older children were reading, keeping a watchful eye on the English nurse to see whether she would stop them. Sonia stood up and walked toward the side wards and stooped to pick up a toy that had fallen from a sleepy hand. There weren’t any seriously ill children, so there wasn’t really any need for her to fuss. If anything did go wrong she could at least pick up the phone and say very urgently
Hilfe.
Surely someone would send help or at least investigate. Her watch said half-past two. Sister Therese would be back at three o’clock. The children in the side wards were fast asleep. It was cooler on that side of the building, and a small breeze stirred the curtains. Gently she pulled a sheet over a little girl who was lying curled up in a ball.

Back at the table at the end of the ward, she picked up the Ward Routine book and fished her dictionary out of her pocket. The sooner she knew the important words the better. She had laughed at Greta earlier in the summer for doing the same with her English dictionary, but now she knew how helpless one could feel. The telephone rang, startling her into momentary paralysis. Her hand was shaking as she picked up the receiver. Who would it be? Would she be able to
understand
them?

“Hello.” Her voice seemed to quaver.

“Sonia! Is that you? I’m bringing a child up to the ward right away. I may have to do a tracheotomy, so have everything ready.”

How far away he sounded and how impatient. Her hand reached out for that precious dictionary and began to flick the pages.

“Sonia! Do you hear me?”

“Yes, of course, Michael. I’ll get the dressing ward ready right away. How old is the child?” She must know so that she could put out the right size tracheotomy tube.

“How old? About three, I think. Be as quick as you can.”

The receiver at the other end was slammed down abruptly. Sonia replaced hers and went along to the dressing ward. What had Greta said about emergency drums? She had seen some this morning in the cupboard when she had put away the instruments, but she hadn’t taken the time to translate the labels. Sister Therese had come too soon to take her to the nursery. If
only ...
She pulled herself together. All she had to do was to put on a mask and investigate each drum. It wouldn’t take
long...