Yankee Surgeon (13 page)

Sally took her dismissal thankfully and departed. She was halfway down the front stairs when she wondered if she should have gone down the fire stairs. But she had told John that she wouldn
’
t go out in the red car this morning and he hadn
’
t mentioned it again. No doubt he was still fast asleep worn out after two nights of broken sleep or none at all.

“Psst. Sally!”

The whisper seemed to ring out like an alarm bell. Sally looked around hastily. The door leading to the fire stairs was slightly ajar and one finger appeared in the crack ... a beckoning finger. She took a hasty look back up the main stairs and then slipped through the door which closed with a muffled thud behind her.

“So you forgot, honey,” John said dolefully.

Sally shook her head. “Not me ... you. I said I wouldn
’
t risk it and anyway I
’
ve got to see Matron after breakfast.”

“You mea
n
you
’
re for the high jump again already?”

“No ... it
’
s something about nights off. Judging by the theater super
’
s moans it
’
s not very convenient. She didn
’
t mention you by name but I expect her thoughts will get around to you quite soon,” Sally said mischievously.

“Guess you could be right. Does that mean I won
’
t be having you for my next session?”

He sounded so lost that Sally took pity on him. “I don
’
t suppose I
’
ll be having the time off yet. They have to plan a long way ahead.”

“That
’
s something but there
’
s something more important. I know you don
’
t like getting up early, but fair
’
s fair. I got up early for you this morning, so how about you doing the same for me? This is my half-day and I
’
ve got to see the prof about some lectures I
’
m supposed to give. Say I meet you about four? Please say yes, honey. I want to talk to you and I won
’
t have the excuse to make a round
tonight...”

Sally knew that it would be fatal to weaken, but somehow she found herself saying “All right,
John ... just
this once
...
around the corner from the bus stop. I
’
ve got to go now.”

He snatched at her hand as she went past him and put it to his lips for a fleeting second. She fled down the stairs without a backward glance and remembered only in time that if she met anyone he might wonder why she was coming down the wrong stairs. She slipped through into the corridor when she got to the first floor and joined the stream of night nurses flowing toward the dining room.

Sally managed to borrow a clean apron from one of her set on day duty and joined the night nurses
’
line—they had priority over the day staff so that they could get to bed. Was it only last night that she had stood here with a sick feeling of apprehension churning around inside her? Now another feeling was doing something similar, but the cause was completely different. It was a growing excitement at the thought of meeting John this
afternoon
...

Someone nudged her. “You
’
re next, Staff Nurse.”

Sally blinked. She hadn
’
t noticed the moving forward of the line. She pushed the buzzer hastily and obeyed the litup signal:
come in.

“Good morning, Nurse Conway. Take a seat, would you? I won
’
t be a moment.” Matron picked up the telephone.

Sally sat squarely on her chair this time. How different Matron sounded this morning—or was it just because her own conscience was reasonably easy?

“... a
nd could you bring Nurse Conway
’
s folder as well? Thank you.” Matron put down the receiver and smiled at Sally.

“I expert you have been wondering about your nights off. We thought it would be easier if you had them tacked on to your holidays, but I see from the list that you wanted the last two weeks in August—and that
’
s rather far off. Did you have a special reason for wanting then, or would you be prepared to take the first two weeks instead?”

Sally tried to think quickly and then realized with an odd feeling of relief that perhaps what Matron was offering her would be a temporary solution ... at least it would give her a chance to sort out her feelings.

“That would be quite all right, Matron. I was only going home and I don
’
t think it will make any difference to Mother.”

“It would be a great help to us, Nurse. It means that Staff Nurse Smithers can relieve you on nights until you
’
re back from holiday.”

Sally risked a question. “I
’
ll be going back on night duty then, Matron?”

“I would prefer it unless you had any very serious objection,” Matron said slowly. “I had heard that you were thinking of going to America for further experience. Have you made any definite plans? If you have, I would require adequate notice. It takes time to find an experienced theater staff
nurse...”

“Not definite, Matron. I have written to a number of American hospitals for details, but that is all so far,” Sally said frankly.

“I see. It
’
s a big step to take and while I can appreciate how interesting it would be to study how another country approaches a problem, I can
’
t see how it will help you if you plan to continue in surgery. If you were intending to do a sister tutor
’
s course I could understand it better.”

“I
’
ve always wanted to go to America, Matron, even before I started nursing. Mother
’
s sister lives out there ... that may have something to do with it. It
’
s also that I don
’
t want to settle down at any
one hospital ... o
h, for ages
yet ...
not even at St. Bride
’
s.”

Matron smiled a little at her earnestness. “And so have said a lot of nurses who are happily married women with families now. Or isn
’
t marriage included among your ambitions, Nurse Conway?”

Sally grew a little pink. “I hadn
’
t thought about it very much, Matron,” she said with a sort of desperate honesty and hoped it was true.

“We seem to be getting off the subject.” Matron became more decisive. “Let
’
s see. That leaves you with just over a week of night duty to do ... your nights off plus the holiday gives you nearly three weeks and brings you back for the night of August 15. I
’
ll have my secretary make out a slip with the dates for you.” She tapped the desk idly with her pencil and then glanced thoughtfully at Sally. “Far be it from me to discourage a young staff nurse from trying her wings. Let me know when you
’
ve got further ahead with your plans, Nurse. I realize it
’
s a long way to go and travel costs money. There might be a scholarship available ... you never know.”

Sally stood up. “Oh, thank you very much, Matron!” Her eyes were shining.

“You
’
re not on the way yet,” Matron said rather dryly.

Sally went hurrying across the quiet square and the sun seemed to be shining with extra brightness dappling the green trees with dancing gold. She didn
’
t stop to see if any of her friends were in the staff nurses
’
sitting room. She had better go straight to bed if she were getting up early to go out with John. She wondered what he would say when she told him that she would be away for nearly three weeks. Quite suddenly she knew then that he would mind ... very much ... and also that it would matter to her that he did
mind...

Sally sighed as she set her alarm clock. Why did life have to go and get complicated? She caught sight of a letter propped up on the dressing table. One of the maids must have brought it over last night not knowing that she had gone early to see Matron.

She picked it up. Why, it was from home. Mother must have something really exciting to tell her to write an extra one. Sally slit the envelope and opened the single sheet.

“Just a note to tell you the great news that Agnes is in England on holiday and I
’
ve seen her. I didn
’
t tell your father until afterward ... and we
’
ve decided that the old quarrel happened
so long ago that it doesn
’
t matter any more. She
’
s coming to stay with us in a week
’
s time. What a pity your holidays are at the wrong time, but I expect you
’
ll be getting nights off. Agnes is dying to meet the niece she didn
’
t know
existed...”

Sally put the letter down with fingers that trembled slightly. It could only be coincidence that her Aunt Agnes should turn up from America at this critical moment. Of course the fact that her aunt was anxious to meet her didn
’
t necessarily mean that she would be at all interested in helping her realize her dearest ambition. She was counting chickens before she even knew there were any eggs. But Sally felt absurdly lighthearted as she got into bed until suddenly once again she thought of John. He wouldn
’
t like it especially as he was signed up for his postgraduate course ... or was she assuming too much?

Sally walked very slowly toward the bus stop. She had come around the back way although it wasn
’
t very likely that Sister McNair would be looking out. It wasn
’
t altogether forbidden for senior night nurses to get up early, but there were supposed to be important reasons for doing so—that is important officially, and she didn
’
t think that meeting an American surgeon came into that category even if he were a consultant. She had reached the bus stop now and glanced at her watch—not quite four o
’
clock. She strolled on—to get in the shade, she told herself—but she would also be able to see a certain big red car as it drew up around the corner.

Why, it was there already and a tall figure was getting out and strolling toward the intersection. Sally hurried in his direction in case anyone she knew might be wanting to catch the bus she wasn
’
t taking.

“Hello, beautiful! You look great. What
’
s the matter? Have I done something wrong again?”

Sally laughed. “Why do you suppose I suggested parking around the corner? Do you want the whole of St. Bride
’
s to know you
’
re taking me
out ...
especially when I
’
m supposed to be still in bed?”

“Sorry, Sally ... I didn
’
t think. I can
’
t get used to all this hokeypokey. You
’
d think I was gate-crashing a nunnery or something! Why should I mind if anyone knows I
’
m taking my favorite girl out, eh? Just tell me one good reason!”

“Oh, John
—
”

How could Sally explain that much as she liked him she didn
’
t want to be anyone
’
s favorite girl at the moment? There might be something much more exciting waiting for her ... like a chance to go to America.

“Hop in, honey. Got any special place in mind or what?” John tucked his long legs in under the steering wheel.

“There
’
s a lovely old inn near Dorking,” Sally began.

“The kind with lawns stretching down to a mill pond and swans and lovely old gardens and smoked beams and a lot of what you call black and white and a thatched roof and so on?” John demanded.

Sally laughed at him. “Of course. I wouldn
’
t risk showing you just any old place. Why is it that you Americans are so keen on the historical remains of the good old days?”

He considered the question seriously as he eased the car into the stream of traffic that was beginning to ebb from the city.

“Maybe it
’
s because anything two hundred years old in the States is ancient history. That
’
s why we get excited about people over here living in places that date back to Henry VIII and so on. Guess it sounds silly to you but it gives me a sort of funny feeling when I go into an ancient church or something and read that it was standing there when there were only Indians living in North America. Could be that it
’
s because America is a young nation as nations go these days and her roots sort of haven
’
t got as established. I can
’
t explain
it ...
it
’
s a feeling more than a reason.”

He had turned off the main road and was going through the back streets where he had taken Sally before. The children were home from school and he had to slow down constantly to let the players in some ball game scatter toward the pavements to allow the big car through.

“Is America so very different from here then?”