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RAINBOW SUMMER

Sarah Franklin

When Katy Lang failed her finals, the thought of continuing nursing at St Anne's was out of the question. Rescue was at hand when Resident Pediatrician Sean MacInnon offered her the opportunity to nurse one of his young asthmatic patients. But after he helped her, Katy began to resent Sean's overbearing way of appearing to make all her decisions for her.

'You look exactly like a marigold in a rainstorm!'

Katy Lang looked up, though she knew perfectly well who was addressing her. That cool voice with its attractive hint of Scottish brogue was all too familiar to half the nurses at St Anne's—not least to her. She avoided the amused dark eyes and grunted:

'Thanks!' pulling her cloak closer round her and lowering her bright head against the spring shower as she hurried across the hospital forecourt.

Sean MacInnon, St Anne's resident paediatrician fell into step beside her, his white coat flying open and his thick, dark hair falling over his forehead. 'Cheer up. The exam results will be out any day now. Next thing you know you'll be holding the exalted position of Staff Nurse and it'll be four-pence to speak to you!' He smiled. 'If you're very good I might take you out to dinner to celebrate. How would that appeal to you?'

Katy turned to him, her green eyes flashing fire. 'It would be more like a punishment if you really want to know! Why should you imagine that going out with you would be such a treat?'

He shrugged unconcernedly, looking more amused than before. 'Well, I can't say I've had any complaints so far!'

She turned away. 'I'm sorry, I'm on duty in five minutes. I have to go.' And without a backward glance she flung away in the opposite direction.

In the cloakroom she took off her damp cloak and tried to mop the rain from her auburn hair. Already the little tendrils that had escaped from her neat chignon had curled themselves into tight corkscrews and nothing she could do would persuade them to lie flat again. She saw what Sean had meant by a 'marigold in a rainstorm'. She looked a fright, she told herself disconsolately, and for the fourth time that morning she opened her bag and took out the letter. It had arrived that morning by the first post. Tracy and Sonia, her flatmates had been on night duty, so she had been alone when she had opened it. There had been one for each of them too, but she felt certain that theirs didn't contain the crushing news that hers did. She slumped into a chair, staring again at the words—still hardly able to believe it was actually happening to her. Three years of hard training and study, culminating in that nerve-racking exam—and all for nothing. She had failed. Of course it would be that multiple choice paper they had been faced with in the afternoon. She was sure that her essays had been good. In fact she had put so much into them that she had worn herself out both mentally and physically—which was probably the reason for her failure. She swallowed hard at the lump in her throat and blinked as a tear rolled helplessly down her cheek. Now she was about to go on duty and hear all the excited success stories. She would have to smile and say 'congratulations' at least a dozen times and pretend that she wasn't green with envy and sick with shame. How would she bear it?

Despairingly she wished her mother were still alive so that she could ring her and have a good moan—get it out of her system. But now there was only Dad—sweet, vague Dad who was really only interested in his garden and his work at the research laboratory.

Katy pinned on a fresh, clean cap and peered at herself in the mirror, dabbing at her nose with a touch of pressed powder to hide the shine. Better get on up to the ward or she'd have Sister after her. She was on the children's ward and there were three post-operative cases, so today would be busy. She may not be a Staff Nurse yet but she was still needed.

As she pushed open the swing door she saw Sister Blake glance at her watch and a protest rose to her lips. Surely she couldn't be more than a couple of seconds late?

'When you take your coffee break. Nurse Lang, I'd like to have a word with you in my office,' Sister said, then added, 'Don't look like that, child. I'm not about to eat you alive!'

Almost immediately Katy was up to her ears in work. There was the little girl transferred from the burns unit after skin grafts; the seven-year-old boy who had had the tonsillectomy; the appendix emergency who had come in yesterday afternoon and the suspected skull fracture. Katy worked hard, only too aware, as she went about the routine tasks, of the subdued excitement of the three other nurses who had taken their exams at the same time as her.

'You're keeping very quiet, Katy—' The question was coming at last. 'Didn't you get your results this morning too?'

Katy straightened up from the bed she was making and looked the other girl in the eye. There was no point in beating about the bush. 'Yes—and I failed,' she said bluntly, relieved that at last the hateful words had been spoken. The other girl looked shocked.

'Oh no! I'm sorry, Katy. Have you told the others?'

In no time at all the whole ward knew and Katy had to endure their well-meaning sympathy which was almost worse than the disappointment, so much so that she was almost glad when her coffee break came round and it was time to report to Sister's office. Tentatively she tapped on the door and heard the brisk instruction to enter. Carefully she closed the door behind her and turned to face the desk. Sister Blake smiled.

'Come and sit down, Katy.' On the desk was a tray of coffee and two cups. Sister opened a drawer and took out a tin with a picture of Windsor Castle on the lid. Opening it, she offered it to Katy. 'Here, have a chocolate biscuit.'

'Thank you.' Katy took one, her green eyes looking speculatively into Sister Blake's brown ones—trying to assess their mood. They looked compassionate.

'I've heard of course,' she said at last. 'And I'm sorry.'

Katy bit her lip hard. It would be unthinkable to weep in front of Sister Blake. 'But not—surprised?' she whispered.

Sister poured the coffee and handed her a cup. 'Well, now that you've said it yourself—no, not altogether. It will have been your theory—the multiple choice paper. Your practical assessments were excellent and I'm sure that your essays will have been perfectly adequate. But when it came to theory you were always too anxious to get back to your patients. Still—' she smiled brightly. 'Only another four months to wait. Concentrate on your theory during that time and I'm confident you'll pass with flying colours next time.'

'No!' Katy heard herself say. 'I'm not going to take it again. I couldn't face it.'

Sister Blake sighed. 'I know how you feel this morning, but it will pass. You're not the first, you know, and you certainly won't be the last. You're a very good nurse, Katy, especially with the children. In fact I was going to have a talk with you this morning even if you had passed, to try to persuade you to try for your RSCN. I feel sure it's what you're cut out for.'

Katy still felt the lump in her throat. 'If I can't make SRN I wouldn't make that either,' she said despondently.

'Look, why don't you have a word with the Senior Nursing Officer when you go off duty? I'm sure she'll help you all she can and that she shares my view of your abilities.' Sister held up the coffee pot with a questioning look. 'More coffee?'

Katy shook her head. She felt her throat was too constricted to allow anything to pass down it. All she wanted was to be alone and wallow in the morass of her own misery, but there was little chance of that. As soon as her break was over it was time for the doctor's round and she would have to endure the spectacle of Sean congratulating the other three nurses, watching their simpering and the sickening way they played up to his already inflated ego. Katy ignored him blatantly; attending to the needs of the patients, her eyes averted from his gaze even when he addressed her personally.

She ate her lunch in the canteen, sitting alone, tucked away at an out of sight corner table, her mind racing with impulsive plans. She would go home and keep house for Dad. That was the obvious thing to do. She had some leave due and if she gave in her notice today it would be almost up by the time she got back. Dad was hopeless at looking after himself and the never-ending series of cleaning women he had had since he had been on his own had all failed miserably at making the house feel like the home they had enjoyed when her mother had been alive. Each time she went there she saw the lovely home her mother had created falling further into neglect. The more she thought about it the more she was convinced that she was making the right decision. She would hand in her notice first thing in the morning.

As she was leaving the hospital, another April shower began, pattering down heavily on to the forecourt flower beds, making the earth smell damp and fresh. She was running for the gates, head down, when a hoot from behind made her spin round crossly. Sean MacInnon's bright yellow sports car was inching along behind her. She stopped as he drew level.

'Hop in.'

She shook her head stubbornly. 'No thanks.'

He leaned over and opened the door. 'Don't be such an idiot, girl! You're getting soaked.'

Reluctantly she climbed into the car and slammed the door. He sat looking at her thoughtfully, the engine still running. 'Look, Katy—I'm sorry about the facetious remark I made this morning. I didn't know about—you know. Come and have a drink—let me make amends.'

She lowered her head so that he wouldn't see her chin wobbling. 'I can't go anywhere looking like this.'

'You look all right to me, but if it's your uniform you're worrying about we could go to the Swab. They're used to it there.'

The 'Swab and Scalpel' was the nickname for the King's Head, a pub round the corner from St Anne's. It was where all the younger doctors, nurses and students gathered in their free time to entertain, celebrate and exchange news.

Katy sat glumly in a corner waiting for Sean to get her a sherry from the bar. Out of the comer of her eye she could see once more the hated corkscrews hanging over her forehead and she could feel them against her neck. She looked a perfect fright and wished fervently that, she could have escaped to the flat and shut herself away in the bathroom where no one could see her despair.

Sean returned with two glasses, seating himself opposite and looking at her with disturbing intensity. He was tall and broad-shouldered—Katy guessed in his early thirties. Everyone said he was quite brilliant. Why is it, Katy mused, that some people seemed to have everything going for them whilst others had nothing? Sean MacInnon had looks, money and a staggeringly clever brain whilst she, on the other hand, had none of these things. Life just wasn't fair. From what she had managed to gather during the course of the day she was the only student nurse to fail her finals—except Mandy Gail, the giggling dumb blonde whom everyone had expected to fail anyway and who was getting married next month in any case. Being put on a par with Mandy had made her feel worse than ever.

Sean pushed the glass towards her across the table. 'Come on, drink up. It'll do you good.' He took a long pull at his beer. 'So, what are the plans now?' he asked conversationally.

She took a sip of the sherry and felt slightly better. 'I'm going home,' she told him simply.

He nodded. 'I mean after that.'

'That's it. I'm going home to stay.'

The dark eyebrows shot up. 'Giving up, you mean? But everyone says you're a very promising nurse.'

'Well, everyone is obviously wrong,' she said boldly. 'My mother died two years ago and ever since then my father has been struggling alone. He needs me and it's beginning to show. It seems the obvious thing to do now that I've failed.'

He frowned. 'How old is your father?'

'Forty-eight,' she told him gravely.

He laughed. 'Good heavens, I thought he must be at least eighty by the way you were talking about him. Of course he doesn't need you. He's probably quite glad to have you off his hands!' He leaned forward. 'Look, Katy, if you're really set on giving in your notice at St Anne's I have an idea that might interest you. Why don't we have dinner together tonight, then I can tell you about it?'