Damsel In Green. Betty Neels
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and took the auroscope she was holding out. He peered down it and muttered, ‘Can’t see anything much wrong—better have her X-rayed, though, when she’s stitched. He’ll do it I expect, while the boy’s in X-Ray.’
‘Who’s he?’ Georgina tried again. She was used to doctors, who tended to get away from the point.
‘George, don’t you ever read those nursing papers of yours, or listen to the grapevine? He’s been here several times. He lectures us—he goes to most of the teaching hospitals. He’s Professor van den Berg Eyffert.’
She opened her pretty brown eyes wide. ‘What a name! Not English, surely. What’s he professor of?’
Ned frowned. ‘Your grammar’s a bit sloppy, isn’t it, old lady? Anaesthetics. Right in the front row, he is. Knows all the answers.’ He went to the door. ‘I’m going to X-Ray to look at that clavicle.’
He went, and the big man came back. He said nothing about the little boy, merely, ‘Shall we start, Staff Nurse?’
He took off his coat and white scarf, and stood in all the magnificence of white tie and tails, looking for somewhere to put them. Georgina took them from him and hung them behind the door, and his tail coat too while he rolled up his shirt sleeves. He was almost ready when she said hastily, ‘Before you start, sir, would you like me to send a message to your wife? I can telephone her … you could speak to her.’
He looked as though he was going to smile, but he answered gravely, ‘Thank you, but I have no wife.’
‘Oh, how awful for you—I am sorry,’ said Georgina, and went scarlet. Would she never learn to think before she spoke? she thought remorsefully, and plunged deeper. ‘I mean—it’s horrid for children when something like this happens, and there’s no mo …’ she stopped again, and met his eyes watching her quizzically from the other side of the trolley.
‘The young man with them—is he yours too?’
This time he did smile. ‘Yes, more or less. A cousin. I have seen him in X-Ray.’ He looked suddenly forbidding. Perhaps, thought Georgina, it would be a good idea not to ask him any more questions.
‘Shall I hold her in my arms in case she comes round?’ she asked. ‘If I sit on the side of the couch with her head over my arm—there’s a stool you could use, otherwise your back will ache,’ she added in a practical voice.
He did as she suggested and started to stitch. Two of the cuts had been closed when the little girl began to whimper, and they waited without speaking until she opened her eyes. Georgina said at once:
‘Hullo, Beatrix.’
The child looked at her for a long moment. ‘Who are you, please?’
‘Oh, a nurse,’ said Georgina, and turned herself round so that her patient could see the man on the stool. The small face lighted up.
‘Cousin Julius! I knew you’d come!’ She started to smile and then, because her scratched face was sore and stiff, began to cry instead. Georgina held her close, murmuring comfort, while the man sat impassive, showing no impatience. In a minute or two, Georgina produced a hanky to mop the large blue eyes and said firmly:
‘Hush now! If we tell you what has to be done to make your head better, will you be a brave girl while it’s done?’
She didn’t wait for an answer but waited for Professor Eyffert to explain. He said gently, ‘You’ve cut your head, Beatrix, and I’m stitching the cuts together again. I shall have to prick you once or twice and we don’t mind if you want to cry; only stay still on Nurse’s lap.’
She was sleepy again. She murmured, ‘Yes, Cousin Julius,’ and made no demur when he picked up the syringe again. He had almost finished when she said:
‘I know you’re a nurse, but what’s your name?’
‘Georgina,’ said Georgina.
The child repeated it. ‘That’s a nice name. Does everyone call you that?’
‘Well, no, not always.’
‘What?’ the small voice was persistent.
‘Actually,’ said Georgina, ‘I get called George.’ She felt faintly embarrassed.
‘I shall call you George. That is, if you don’t mind? I like you.’
Georgina was aware that the Professor had finished his handiwork and was just sitting on the stool, listening. She looked up and caught his eye and frowned in a repressive fashion at him because she found his presence unsettling. She said, ‘Thank you, Beatrix. I like you too,’ then laid the child gently back on to the couch, made quick work of spraying each small cut with Nebecutane and then said to no one in particular:
‘I think I shall be needed to take the small boy …’
‘Cornelis,’ said a small voice from the pillow. ‘He’s my brother.’
‘Cornelis,’ repeated Georgina obediently, ‘to X-Ray.’ She stood up and looked fleetingly at the man sitting so quietly. ‘Shall I find a nurse to sit with Beatrix, or will you …?’
‘Stay? Yes, of course. But please ask Mr Sawbridge if he would spare a moment.’
She went down the row of cubicles to where the little boy lay, and passed the young man on the way. He was sitting on one of the stiff wooden chairs, staring ahead of him, but he smiled fleetingly as she halted before him.
‘All right?’ she enquired. ‘I’ll see to you just as soon as I can—it won’t be long now. Your—er—cousin is in the cubicle with the little girl if you like …’
He interrupted quite fiercely, ‘Thank you, Nurse—if my cousin wants me, he’ll send for me.’
She blinked at this; it would have been nice if she could have spared the time to learn a little more about the Professor. Instead, she made all haste to where an impatient porter was waiting to go to X-Ray.
Ten minutes later, while they were taking the lateral views, Mr Sawbridge, Bill Foster and the Professor came in. They went straight to the darkroom, where she could hear them muttering together over the wet films until the radiographer had finished his work and went to join them. They all came out together very shortly, and Mr Sawbridge said, ‘All right, Staff, take him back. I shall want the theatre in twenty minutes, please. Ask Theatre Sister to telephone me here as soon as possible. Oh, and put a figure-of-eight on Mr van den Berg Eyffert.’
She did as she was bid, but before starting on the bandaging she filled in a case sheet for Cornelis and got Bill Foster to write it up. There was the little matter of the pre-med. When she got back it was to find that the runner had got down at last; she left her to get the little boy ready for theatre and whisked into a cubicle where she had bidden the young man sit. ‘Now,’ she breathed, ‘let’s get you done.’ She was rolling cotton wool into a pad as she spoke and had eased him out of his shirt when a voice said placidly, ‘Shall I get a pull on his shoulders for you, Staff Nurse?’ He didn’t wait for her relieved murmur, but got behind his cousin and drew his shoulders firmly back.
The young man went white. ‘Revenge is sweet!’ he muttered.
‘I imagine you don’t mean that, Karel,’ the big man spoke patiently with no trace of ill-humour. He eased the injured shoulder up a little so that Georgina could arrange the pad, and she heard her patient say, ‘Sorry, Julius—I apologise.’
No one spoke again until she had finished her bandage. She nodded with satisfaction at the neatness of it and said briskly, ‘I should like particulars of you all, please, but I’ll get you a cup of tea first.’
She peeped in at Beatrix as she passed the cubicle; the little girl was asleep with Ned sitting beside her, writing up notes. He looked up and said crossly, ‘There you are! Wherever do you go?’
‘Round and about,’ said Georgina soothingly. ‘Is this one to be