A Girl Named Rose. Бетти Нилс
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hand on the counterpane beside her and gave it a squeeze, quite unaware of what she was doing. But only for a moment; she dropped it like a hot brick and stood up, to recite very accurately exactly what had occurred.
Mr Werdmer ter Sane grunted and bent over the little boy who stirred under his gentle touch and then opened his eyes again. He said something in Dutch and straightened to his great height again. “I do believe we’re coming out of the wood, Rose.”
Very much to her surprise he bent and kissed her cheek. “Good girl.” He went to the phone and made several calls and very soon Sister was there as well as his registrar. The three of them talked quietly and then the two men examined the child very gently. Rose stood a little apart. Sister was there, handling things and dealing with their needs and there was nothing for her to do. Sister and the registrar went presently and Mr Werdmer ter Sane asked her to stay by the cot while he phoned and then presently he gave her careful instructions and went away too.
There was little enough to do; only watch carefully and carry out the usual nursing chores. It was half an hour later that he came back and this time he had the ter Brandts with him.
Rose didn’t say anything; indeed they weren’t aware of anyone else except the little boy in the cot. She slid away to the desk at the window and turned her back and was surprised when Mr Werdmer ter Sane joined her.
There wasn’t anything much to see; a variety of gabled roofs and an enormous number of chimney pots and above them, a wide pale blue sky. She stared out at them and wished she could think of something to say and presently he went away again without having uttered a word, back to the cot at the other side of the room and now it was Christina beside her.
“Rose, oh Rose, you don’t know how happy I am. Oh, my dear, we’re so grateful and thankful.” She turned a tear-stained face to her. “We’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
“But I haven’t done anything,” said Rose, feeling awkward.
“Oh, yes, you have. You’d made up your mind that little Duert was going to get better and you’ve had no off-duty and you’ve had your eyes on him all the time. That was clever, singing the nursery rhymes. Sybren says he’s not out of the wood yet but it’s time and careful nursing. You’ll stay, won’t you? I can’t nurse him myself, but I know he is safe with you.”
“Of course, I’ll stay. I am so happy for you and your husband, you must be in the seventh heaven. And I’ll take great care of him, I promise you, and Wiebeke is wonderful, you know. You’ll be able to sleep at night now.”
“Yes, oh yes.” Christina looked up at her husband who had just joined her. He smiled a little at her and then looked at Rose. “We are in your debt for the rest of our lives, Rose.”
When they had gone she took up her station by the cot again. Perhaps there would be days ahead when not much progress would be made, but it was a start. She took Duert’s hand in hers once more and started to sing “Ride a cock horse” in her soft little voice.
Mr Werdmer ter Sane, coming back up the corridor, paused to listen outside the door. He frowned heavily, aware of annoyance because Rose, that most uninteresting of girls, disturbed him. A pity that Christina had set her heart on having her back home when little Duert was well enough to leave hospital. Hopefully, she wouldn’t need to stay long.
CHAPTER THREE
THERE WAS a steady improvement in little Duert; he slept for the greater part of the day, but the intervals of wakefulness lengthened and by the end of a week he could be lifted carefully on to his mother’s lap when she came to see him. No permanent brain damage, Mr Werdmer ter Sane assured her, little Duert was going to be perfectly all right. Even now, he pointed out gently, he was smiling at his mother and father and talking a little. Time and patience, he counselled Christina. Rose wasn’t sure if he was quite so hopeful with Doctor ter Brandt although there was nothing in the men’s manner to betray their thoughts; she knew it was important to keep Christina happy and at the same time no attempt was made to pull the wool over her eyes; the little boy was indeed making progress but he still had a long way to go and she didn’t relax her watchfulness one particle.
It was at the end of a sunny afternoon, when the ter Brandts had gone home, that Mr Werdmer ter Sane came back to talk to her. Rather to her surprise he wanted to have her opinion of little Duert’s progress.
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