At the End of the Day. Бетти Нилс
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that and she was betrayed into saying no, before she said yes. At his raised eyebrows she added lamely, ‘I ‘phoned last night. He’s got the post.’
‘Yes. He seemed pleased…’
‘He ‘phoned you?’ she asked in surprise.
‘No—I happened to be with Doctor Lamborne when he rang him.’
He finished his coffee and stood up. ‘I suppose we shall be losing you very shortly.’
Her green eyes glinted. ‘You will find Staff Nurse Down will make an excellent sister.’
‘I shall look forward to that,’ he told her blandly as he went.
She had no time for anything but the ward for the rest of the day; the police came and so, after lunch, did the visitors and treatments and medicines had to be fitted in despite these interruptions. She went off duty late but satisfied; the police had unearthed a niece of Mrs Collins who would come the next day. She had sounded pleasant enough on the ‘phone and seemed concerned enough about her aunt. And Mrs Collins had gone steadily ahead. Julia shaking the dust of twenty-four patients from her feet went thankfully back to her flat, where the kitten, looking more like a kitten now, greeted her with pleasure, ate supper and curled up again on its scarf, while Julia showered and got into a cotton dress and cooked her own supper. Tomorrow evening she and Nigel would go out for a meal but just now she was content to spend a quiet evening and if she had half hoped that he would ring her she ignored the thought. He would be back sometime that evening, but he had warned her that it might be in the early hours of the morning. She read the Sunday papers, and paused every now and then to mull over the memory which nagged like a sore tooth; the professor was looking forward to someone else in her place, he couldn’t wait for her to go. She felt unreasonably hurt about that. Thank heaven that Nigel had got the job; they could have a quiet wedding soon, he would need only a couple of months to settle in and even if they had to find a flat outside the hospital, it shouldn’t take all that long; anything would do for a start, they would only be renting it and they could move if it didn’t suit them. She sat weaving plans for the future and presently, accompanied by the kitten, went to bed.
It was the professor’s round in the morning. She greeted him in a cool, wooden voice, agreed that Mrs Collins’ troubles seemed to be almost over, discussed Mrs Winter’s unfortunate habit of ignoring her diet, filled in a number of X-Ray forms and Path Lab requests and finally ushered her party out of the ward, where the lesser fry went about their business and the professor and Dick Reed went into her office where they continued their discussions and drank several cups of coffee while Julia sat between them, passing the biscuit tin to and fro and making notes obediently when told to do so. When finally they got to their feet the professor said: ‘Go on ahead will you, Dick?’ He glanced at his watch, ‘Sister Sedgewick will be expecting us—I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes.’
Julia was standing behind her desk, wondering what was coming next. She searched swiftly in her mind to discover what could have gone wrong for it must surely be that. The professor had been remotely civil and no more throughout the round and probably he was harbouring some petty grievance…
‘Yesterday,’ he told her smoothly, ‘I told you that I looked forward to seeing someone in your place; to dismiss any misunderstandings on that point, I should point out that it would not be for the reason which I feel sure springs instantly to your mind.’ He looked down his magnificent nose at her. ‘Women are illogical.’ He opened the door but turned to look at her, gaping at him, as he left. ‘Seen young Longman?’ he wanted to know.
She hadn’t, he hadn’t ‘phoned either and she had had no time to find out if he was back in the hospital. She said coldly. ‘No, I haven’t. Neither of us have much leisure…’
‘Sarcasm does not become you, Julia.’
When he had gone, she sat down at her desk again and stared down at the list of things, neatly tabled by Pat, that needed attention. Presently she picked up the ‘phone and began her daily battle with the laundry, but her heart wasn’t in it, there was too much on her mind.
She saw Nigel briefly on the way back from her dinner. He was so obviously delighted with himself that she hadn’t the heart to ask him why he hadn’t ‘phoned her. ‘Exactly what I want,’ he told her enthusiastically, his pleasant open face beaming. He plunged into details and when he at length paused she asked: ‘And is there a flat going with the job?’
‘Flat? Oh yes, there’s a house nearby with three flats—quite nice, I believe.’
‘Didn’t you go and have a look at it?’
‘No, love—the whole interview and so on took much longer than I had expected and I wanted to get home.’
‘Yes, of course. I rang your mother.’
‘She told me. I meant to give you a ring, but my father was keen to go down to the pub and talk about things…’
All quite reasonable thought Julia, so why was she feeling cross? ‘You’re off this evening?’
He nodded. ‘We’ll go out, shall we, and celebrate?’
She smiled widely at him. ‘Lovely. Seven o’clock by the porter’s lodge?’
She had talked too long, she hurried back to the ward, happy again.
She got off duty punctually because Pat, bless her, was never late on duty. She fed the kitten, showered and poked around in her wardrobe for something to wear. There was a green thing she hadn’t worn for quite a while, a straight sheath which showed off her figure to perfection, and highlighted her hair. She didn’t look too bad, she conceded and remembered to put on a pair of only moderately high heels. Nigel and she were exactly the same height but if she wore the high heels she preferred she topped him by an inch or so and he didn’t like it. She had plenty of time, she sat down for a little while, the kitten on her lap. ‘I must get you a basket tomorrow,’ she told him, ‘and give you a name.’ She thought for a minute, ‘I found you in this street, didn’t I? So you’ll be Wellington.’
She kissed his small furry head, picked up her purse and with her loose coat over her shoulders, went back to the hospital. Nigel was there and, most annoyingly, so was Professor van der Wagema, talking to him.
They paused in their talk to wish her a good evening, remark upon the delightful night, and then resume their conversation. Julia, standing between them, with Nigel’s hand on her shoulder, listened with half an ear. Nigel admired the professor and although they rarely had much to do with each other they seemed to have found a great deal to talk about. She was enlightened about this presently: ‘Professor van der Wagema knows my new chief very well,’ Nigel told her. ‘They were up at Cambridge together.’
‘How interesting.’ Julia, wanting her dinner, just managed not to look at the big clock on the wall in front of her, while the professor, listening with grave attention to what Nigel was saying, studied her charming person from under heavy lids.
When the conversation had broken up and Nigel and Julia went on their way, Nigel enthused about the professor while they drove through the busy streets to the small restaurant in Old Bailey which they invariably patronised. It was fairly near to the hospital for one thing and the food was French and fairly cheap and since they had been eating there for a year or more, they were given a corner table where they could talk in peace. Nigel was still extolling the professor’s brilliance as they sat down. ‘Pity you two don’t get on,’ he observed cheerfully, ‘although he has a great opinion of you as a nurse. Told me the ward wouldn’t be the same without you.’
‘Well,’ said Julia reasonably, ‘he’ll just have to get used to that, won’t he? Pat will step into my shoes when I leave.’
She broke off to study the menu; since this was by way of being a celebration she chose rather lavishly and sipped the iced Dubonnet she had asked for. ‘You always have sherry,’ commented Nigel.
‘I want something different this evening. After all, we’re celebrating, aren’t we?’