The Fair Wind: A moving 1950s hospital romance (The Anniversary Collection Book 6) Read online

  The Fair Wind

  Lucilla Andrews

  Copyright © The Estate of Lucilla Andrews 2021

  This edition first published 2021 by Wyndham Books

  (Wyndham Media Ltd)

  27, Old Gloucester Street, London WC1N 3AX

  First published in 1957

  www.lucillaandrews.com

  The author has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, organisations and events are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organisations and events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Cover artwork images © leungchopan / Anthony Shaw Photography (Shutterstock)

  izusek (istockphoto.com)

  Cover artwork design © Wyndham Media Ltd

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  By Lucilla Andrews

  from Wyndham Books

  The Print Petticoat

  The Secret Armour

  The Quiet Wards

  The First Year

  A Hospital Summer

  My Friend the Professor

  Nurse Errant

  Flowers from the Doctor

  The Young Doctors Downstairs

  The New Sister Theatre

  The Light in the Ward

  A House for Sister Mary

  Hospital Circles

  Highland Interlude

  The Healing Time

  Edinburgh Excursion

  Ring O’ Roses

  Silent Song

  In Storm and Calm

  Busman’s Holiday

  The Crystal Gull

  After a Famous Victory

  The Lights of London

  The Phoenix Syndrome

  Frontline 1940

  The Africa Run

  The White Walls (The Anniversary Collection Book 1)

  The Golden Hour (The Anniversary Collection Book 2)

  The Long Voyage (The Anniversary Collection Book 3)

  The Secret Journey (The Anniversary Collection Book 4)

  The Small Star (The Anniversary Collection Book 5)

  The Fair Wind (The Anniversary Collection Book 6)

  One Night in London (The Jason Trilogy Book 1)

  A Weekend in the Garden (The Jason Trilogy Book 2)

  In an Edinburgh Drawing Room (The Jason Trilogy Book 3)

  A Few Days in Endel (writing as Diana Gordon)

  Marsh Blood (writing as Diana Gordon)

  The Sinister Side (writing as Diana Gordon)

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  Go to www.lucillaandrews.com

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

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  Chapter One

  Sister Catherine looked across her desk at us as we stood with our hands correctly behind us, waiting to be dismissed to our morning lecture. Sister Catherine was plump and pretty. Her light brown hair curled softly round the starched lace that edged her cap; she had large, tranquil grey eyes, a good complexion, and the apple-curve of her cheeks disguised the firmness of her jaw when she smiled. As Sister seldom found occasion to smile at Jill and me, the two most junior nurses on her ward staff, we were never in danger of forgetting that her gentle exterior concealed a highly efficient and often formidable young woman.

  Sister sighed a little wearily as she considered us. ‘Nurse Sims.’ She looked hard at Jill. ‘You are supposed to have finished your early routine before going to your lecture and off-duty. Are you aware that your routine includes the dusting and polishing of the wheel-chairs?’

  Jill’s fair cheeks reddened. She was a small, neat, shy girl, instinctively methodical, but desperately slow in her work. Jill never could manage to get finished on time. By her expression, it was obvious that she knew what was coming. She took a deep breath. ‘Yes, Sister.’

  ‘And have you done them this morning, Nurse?’

  My heart ached for Jill as she stammered, ‘No, Sister.’

  ‘So I can notice from here,’ said Sister coldly. ‘The dust is thick on the chair backs, and when I was taking the pulses just now, I saw a spider actually spinning a web on the back rail of the third chair. Will you be good enough to do all the work allotted to you each morning, and not pick and choose only that which you yourself may consider requires doing? Thank you, Nurse Sims.’ She glanced meaningly at the ward clock. ‘You have seven minutes before your lecture is due to start. I would advise you to waste no more time.’

  Jill’s neat cap bobbed up and down on her head as she nodded apologetically. ‘Yes, Sister. I’m very sorry, Sister.’ She scuttled away for her duster and tin of polish.

  Having despatched Jill, Sister turned her attention to me. She looked me over from the tip of my junior cap to the toes of my shoes, on which I had spilt porridge when clearing the patients’ breakfasts. Her gaze rested on the result. ‘Nurse Fraser, what have you done to your shoes? You look as if you have been tramping through a ploughed field. And are you incapable of pouring tea without spilling it on your apron? And when,’ she continued ruthlessly, ‘did you make up that cap you are wearing?’

  I swallowed. ‘Last night, Sister.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Her voice was ice-cold. ‘I would have said it was some nursing heirloom handed down from the last century. Oblige me by not wearing it when you return to duty this afternoon. Nurse Fraser, it is high time that you learnt how to remain tidy while working. A good nurse should always appear cool, competent and neat,’ she informed me for possibly the three-hundredth time.

  ‘Yes, Sister.’ I noticed that one of the patients in the beds directly behind Sister’s desk was trying to catch my eye, and added, ‘Thank you, Sister,’ hoping that she would dismiss me and give me the chance to discover what Mrs. Durant was trying to tell me.

  Unhappily Sister’s eyes were too keen. She looked at me, then turned her head. ‘Are you wanting something, Mrs. Durant?’

  As she spoke I saw what it was Mrs. Durant had been trying to point out. Mrs. Durant improvised magnificently. ‘Nothing, Sister, thank you. I was just smiling at the lady opposite.’

  My heart warmed to kind Mrs. Durant, and the other women who were not only fellow patients, but fellow conspirators in their efforts at hiding from Sister the many mistakes Jill and I made. Unfo
rtunately, this time those efforts were in vain. Sister instantly spotted the porridge bowl on Mrs. Durant’s locker.

  ‘Nurse Fraser, I was under the impression this ward was open for rounds?’

  I said, weakly, ‘Yes, Sister. It is.’

  ‘Then will you kindly explain why the breakfast crockery is still lying about? Are you not aware that everything must be cleared before the ward is open?’

  I said, even more weakly, ‘I am afraid I must have forgotten it, Sister.’

  Her grey eyes were heavy with disapproval. ‘I am afraid you have, Nurse. When are you going to stop forgetting to do your work properly? That is the question I ask myself. It is not enough to be quick, Nurse Fraser. You must also be thorough. Go and remove that bowl instantly.’

  ‘Yes, Sister.’ I rushed across the ward willingly, but rashly, to collect the offending piece of china and make my escape.

  Sister’s voice stopped me before I reached the ward door. ‘Nurse Fraser, how often am I going to have to remind you that a nurse may only run in cases of haemorrhage or fire? You must not gallop about in this unseemly fashion. Walk quickly but decorously.’

  And as I endeavoured to do this I heard her call up the ward to Jill, ‘Nurse Sims, may I remind you that you have not the rest of the day to give to those chairs? Look sharp, child, or you’ll be late for your lecture.’

  We struggled into clean aprons in our changing-room.

  ‘Here, turn round and I’ll button you. Breathe in,’ I said, and I drew Jill’s waistband together. ‘What did you do with the spider? I hope you didn’t kill it.’

  ‘I put it on the Michaelmas daisies on the window-sill. It had made such a lovely web since yesterday. I hadn’t the heart to break it. That’s what took me so long.’

  I grinned at her. It was typical of Jill that she should take so much trouble over her spider and ignore Sister Catherine’s present and Sister Tutor’s future displeasure. One thing at a time was Jill’s maxim, and since junior nurses are meant to do half-a-dozen jobs at a time, that maxim was constantly causing her to collect lectures from Sister, her Staff Nurse, and our Senior Probationer. I took her cloak from the hook as she was obviously still brooding on the spider. ‘Come on, Jill. Sister told us to look sharp.’

  She sighed and swung her cloak over her shoulders. ‘Truly, Sue, I don’t know how Sister expects us to get done.’

  ‘She not only expects us to get done, she expects us to stay cool, competent and neat. Is my hair all right?’

  She looked at me gravely. ‘Not really. It’s on end. But it always is.’

  ‘Then it can stay as it is. We must really move fast. We’ve got just three minutes in which to cross the hospital.’ I looked at my watch as we went into the main corridor. ‘Let’s go down along the basement. We can sprint properly down there, as no Sisters ever go that way.’

  We clattered down the nearest flight of stairs and ran at full speed along the basement corridor. The engineers, electricians, laundry workers and porters who inhabited the basement offices smiled tolerantly and stepped obligingly out of our way as we raced by. When we reached the upwards flight of stairs Jill was puffing badly. I gave her a hand and lugged her after me.

  ‘I wish I had your long legs, Sue. Thank you,’ she gasped breathlessly.

  I pushed my cap back into position, smoothed my apron skirt, and we slackened our pace to a dignified bustle for the few yards that lay between us and the classroom. The basement had saved us from being late for the lecture, but it could not save us from acquiring an extra lecture from Sister Tutor.

  ‘Why are you Catherine nurses always late? I have already called the roll. I have to tell you, Nurse Fraser and Nurse Sims, that you two are the most unpunctual juniors in this hospital. Mr. Brown will be here directly. Had he arrived before you he would have been exceedingly and rightly annoyed,’ she warned us.

  ‘I’ll bet Mr. Brown doesn’t have to displace spiders,’ I murmured to Jill as we hurriedly took our seats at our desks.

  She did not look at me. She gazed straight ahead and, without moving her lips, muttered, ‘Careful! Sister’s watching.’

  I glanced at the desk and saw she was right. Sister was frowning on us. I sat down and fixed my eyes on her. I had already discovered that to do that ensured a peaceful lecture. Sister Tutor held strong views on young nurses who allowed their gaze to wander all over a classroom during the lectures. Another thing I had discovered was Jill’s talent for talking without moving her lips. We often held long, slightly one-sided conversations at these times, and had learnt from experience that so long as we gazed at Sister Tutor, she never suspected that we were doing anything of the sort.

  Mr. Brown, our anatomy lecturer, was a large grey-haired man with a great laughing voice and a keen sense of humour. We were all very fond of him and much enjoyed his lectures and the cherished little jokes which he produced as frequently as the various bones he drew on the blackboard. I watched him stroll in a few seconds later and thought about Sister Tutor’s warning. I could not believe that Mr. Brown could ever get seriously annoyed; he was so large and obviously blessed with the placid temperament very big men usually possess. It was a warm morning for autumn, and although I was genuinely interested in the lecture, the warmth made me feel sleepy. I listened to Mr. Brown and felt a pleasant haze settle on my mind. I thought how nice it was to be able to sit down and do nothing but listen for once in a while. Our lectures were the only periods in our working days in which we could get off our feet. Catherine was a women’s Acute Surgical ward; it possessed forty beds that were never empty for more than a few hours, and was generally considered a moderately heavy ward. Moderately, because it was a surgical ward. Sister Tutor and those girls in our set who now worked in medical wards all insisted that surgery could never make such heavy nursing as medicine. To this Jill and I always listened with polite incredulity, since, as Jill often remarked in private, ‘It would be a physical impossibility for anyone to pack more into a working day than we are supposed to pack in Catherine. I think they are just making a song and dance about medical wards to impress us.’

  One of these fine days, I mused as Mr. Brown’s voice boomed on and he drew another couple of bones on the blackboard, Jill and I would work in a medical ward and find out for ourselves. Then we might move to Children, the Theatre, Casualty, night-duty. My mind dwelt for some moments on the prospect of night-duty; it sounded exciting and responsible. It must be wonderful to work while the rest of the world was asleep; to see the dawn and the sunrise. I had never been awake for one whole night in my life. I wondered what it felt like, and how soon I would experience the feeling.

  A murmur from Jill interrupted my daydream. ‘Sister’s looking at you oddly, Sue.’

  I blinked and saw that she was right. I also realised that I had been staring at Sister all this while, and that my unseeing stare must be responsible for the faint frown with which she was favouring me. I did not alter my gaze; I merely blinked again to show that I was lost in deep thoughts on bones and returned to my previous train of thought, with one slight difference. I promoted myself from junior to a night senior in charge of a ward; then I was a Staff Nurse. I imagined myself gliding round a ward as Staff Nurse Dexter glided round Catherine, being Sister’s right-hand on all occasions, chaperoning at teaching rounds, writing and taking reports, speaking in soft, measured tones, and being so very patient with the patients and the junior probationers. For a second time my dream was shattered, this time far more violently than previously. Something small came sailing through the air towards me; I put up a hand involuntarily, and caught a piece of chalk. Mr. Brown beamed at me.

  ‘Good catch, Nurse. I was afraid you were not with us. I beg your pardon for being mistaken. Now, suppose you come up and draw that joint about which I have been digressing somewhat.’

  I clutched the chalk, and knew my mind was blank. Sister’s brows drew together. I glanced round wildly, then noticed that Jill had hurriedly scribbled ‘ball and socket’ on t
he corner of her notebook. I walked up to the dais and drew the required joint on the board. Mr. Brown nodded approvingly, then took the chalk from me.

  ‘Very good, Nurse. Now let’s have someone else ‒ you, Nurse, in the front row ‒ come up and tell us all about it.’

  The lecture was over at a quarter to eleven. Jill and I were off-duty until one, so we strolled back to the Nurses’ Home together, enjoying the luxury of not being in a hurry. I thanked her for her timely assistance. ‘I would have looked a complete goon if you hadn’t given me that hint, and Sister Tutor would have been livid.’

  She said she was glad to have helped. ‘You should have listened to him, Sue. He really was fascinating this morning.’

  ‘I’m sure he was,’ I agreed ruefully, ‘and I meant to listen, because I like anatomy. Then I started thinking and forgot.’

  She smiled. ‘Better write up his lecture from my notes now, before you forget any more. I’ll do mine at the same time. Shall I come into your room, or will you come into mine?’

  ‘Don’t let’s do either.’ I sniffed the air in the hospital park. ‘I think we’ve had enough anatomy for one morning, and it’s too nice a day to waste any more of it on bones. I do want some fresh air, and we’ll be on for the rest of the day. Why not put off your writing-up and come out for a walk or window shopping?’

  Jill groaned. ‘Sue, how can you be so energetic? Don’t forget we’ve got a Theatre list, as well as admissions, due this afternoon. You’ll get all the exercise you want in Catherine Ward. Really, I do think we ought to rest our feet for what’s left of the morning.’

  ‘Our feet will hurt tonight whether we rest them or not,’ I retorted. ‘So why worry? I can’t bear being indoors all day.’ I followed her up the steps of our Home and in through the front door. ‘I expect my country upbringing is to blame, but I have to have fresh air daily. If I start missing my quota ‒’ I flung wide the lift doors dramatically ‒ ‘I’ll just fade away.’

  ‘Less noise, please, Nurses.’ Home Sister appeared at her office door. ‘Oh, it is you, Nurse Fraser! I might have guessed from the sound of those gates being slammed open.’