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

  I apologised instantly and automatically. ‘Apologising to authority has got to be such a reflex action with me that I am sure I do it in my sleep,’ I told Jill as the lift carried us upwards.

  She said soberly, ‘Do you think they will ever smile at us, Sue?’

  I thought this over. ‘No,’ I had to admit, and we both laughed.

  Jill noticed my cap. ‘I don’t really know how Sister Tutor let you into her classroom with that monstrosity on your head. It’s squashed flat. What have you done to it?’

  I pulled the scrap of frilled muslin from its insecure perch on my head and frowned at it. ‘I was very careful to get the wire in the right place when I made it last night, but it has come adrift. How do you manage to keep yours standing up like that?’

  She unpinned hers carefully. ‘Tuck the wire right down at the back and twist the ends under the bow. That gives it extra strength.’

  ‘I see. You clever girl. How did you work that out?’

  ‘I noticed how Chalmers had fixed hers one day when she was bending down. I tried it and it worked.’

  Nurse Chalmers was the Senior Probationer in Catherine. She was a pretty, slim, dark-haired girl, a model of decorum and neatness, with a fine sense of her own seniority. Nurse Chalmers only talked to her juniors when conversation was a professional necessity.

  I gave Jill back her cap. ‘You are awfully bright at keeping your eyes open, Jill. I wish I had a little of your methodical and observant mind.’

  She smiled. ‘I wish I had a little of your speed.’

  The lift slowed and stopped at the top floor. ‘I have to learn to harness that speed to efficiency, as Sister Catherine says.’ I unlatched the gate. ‘I think I’m going to start copying you in being quiet and thorough.’ I threw back the gate with a flourish and stepped out with mounting enthusiasm at the resolutions I was making. ‘I’m going to be so gentle and neat from now on that no one will recognise me.’ I turned round to see what she was doing to delay her. ‘Come on, we’ve not much time before lunch, and I do want my walk.’

  She looked up from the gate with which she had been fiddling. ‘I can’t get this gate shut. You’ve shoved it back too hard. See if you can move it.’

  ‘I expect I’ll manage,’ I said sanguinely. I did not manage. I tried again; then again. I used all the strength I possessed and grew very red in the face, but I could not shift the gate an inch to close it. I stood back and gazed at Jill gloomily. ‘What do you suppose we do now? Fetch Home Sister?’

  An irate voice and a furious rattling from below prevented her answering. ‘Nurse, do hurry up with that gate! We want the lift!’

  ‘Sorry, it’s stuck,’ I called. ‘I’ll let you have it in a moment ‒ I hope,’ I added under my breath, giving the stubborn gate another tug. It was no good. I simply could not close the lift Jill and I looked at each other in a glum silence. I broke it. ‘There goes my fresh air,’ I said, and ran down the five flights of stairs to the ground floor and Home Sister’s office.

  In my anxiety I forgot that my cap was in my hand and not on my head.

  Home Sister reminded me of my omission the instant she appeared in answer to my knock. ‘Nurse Fraser, where is your cap? How dare you appear in uniform without a cap? Go and put one on at once, and then come back if you wish to see me.’ She swept into her office again, and as she closed the door I heard her say, ‘What some of these young nurses will do next, I dread to think! Imagine coming to speak to your Home Sister without a cap!’

  I had automatically placed my hands behind me when Sister appeared. My cap was in my left hand. I smoothed my hair ineffectually, re-pinned the despised but essential object on my head, and knocked on the door again.

  For the second time she opened it herself. ‘Well, Nurse?’ Her tone was not encouraging.

  I said, ‘Sister I am very sorry, I am afraid I must have broken the lift gate.’

  She considered me in silence for perhaps half a minute. ‘I cannot say I am surprised, Nurse Fraser,’ she began sternly. ‘I can merely say I am growing increasingly annoyed by your carelessness. In your brief residence in this Home you have already managed to break one window, one set of bed-springs, one complete set of breakfast crockery, and now the lift.’ She let this horrible list of memories sink in as she looked me over. ‘You are not large, Nurse Fraser, yet you manage to do far more damage than the proverbial bull could ever have done in the china shop. And at least a bull would not have access to a Nurses’ Home,’ she added coldly without a trace of humour.

  ‘I really am very sorry, Sister. I did mean to be careful. I am afraid I forgot.’

  ‘As I recollect, Nurse Fraser, you forgot the presence of your closed bedroom window upon the evening when you chose to demonstrate a tennis stroke to your colleagues. You forgot,’ she repeated remorselessly, ‘to set the leg under your folding table when you placed that breakfast tray on it. Just how a young woman of your weight managed to break an excellent and sturdy set of bed-springs is something that neither I nor the workshop engineers have yet been able to fathom. No doubt your memory was at fault on that occasion, too?’

  I stifled a sigh. ‘Yes, Sister.’ I had not been able to give her any full explanation when I broke my springs, as she had been too cross with me to listen. Possibly that had been just as well. On the whole, Home Sister was pretty tolerant about the use to which we put our rooms in our off-duty, and turned a blind eye and deaf ear to the tea and cocoa parties, transistors and record concerts that went on in the top floor rooms before lights out each night; but we did not feel that she would approve of the way in which eight colleagues and myself had used my bed as a platform on which to practise the tableau we planned for our Christmas show. It was the final tableau, in which the nine of us had combined, that proved too much for the springs.

  Sister flicked an invisible speck of dust from one of her cuffs. ‘You have chosen a most inconvenient moment to disturb me, Nurse, as I am entertaining a visitor to coffee. However, there is nothing to be done about that. I shall have to see the extent of the damage for myself and then will send you with a request to the workshop. Wait here.’ She went back into her room, leaving the door ajar as it had been all this time. ‘You will have to excuse me, Thomas. I must see to our lift. It has been broken, most unfortunately and unnecessarily! I expect you have another round requiring your presence. Don’t make yourself late through waiting for me. Thank you for coming to see me ‒’ her voice had softened unrecognisably ‒ ‘and for bringing that invitation in person. Please give your mother my love, and tell her how much I am looking forward to seeing all the family at your wedding.’ A man’s voice murmured something I did not catch. The door was opened properly, Sister came out with a very large young man who wore a shaggy, brown tweed jacket and sports trousers. The young man had hair that was the same light brown as his jacket, and looked equally shaggy.

  Sister’s lips tightened as she looked at me. ‘It is all most tiresome. The gate has been forced and will cause a great deal of inconvenience. I gather it has stopped on the top floor. I am on my way up there, and then I shall have to trouble our hard-pressed workshop.’

  Her companion put his hands in his pockets and I couldn’t help noticing the breadth of his shoulders. They looked broad enough to carry most of the world’s troubles. Then he surprised me by saying quietly, ‘It might be an idea if I looked at it for you. I know something about lifts.’

  Sister’s face relaxed in a gracious smile as she turned to him. ‘You would be doing me a great service if you would, Thomas. Your mother has always told me that you are quite a handy man around the house. Come with me.’ The smile vanished from her face as her look included me in that final remark, and she led the way up the many stairs, with Thomas at her elbow.

  I trailed a few steps behind them, feeling very conscious of the invisible barrier that divided people who could fix, as opposed to break, a lift gate!

  Jill was still trying to release the gate when we arrived on the top floo
r. Fortunately she had remembered to put her cap on. Sister told her to stop fiddling. ‘You can only do more harm than good, Nurse Sims.’ She tried the lock herself, shook her head and stood back. ‘I am afraid I have brought you up in vain, Thomas. Mere strength will not solve the problem. I shall have to ask Mr. Jenks to come over again and unscrew the lock as previously. But have a look, if you wish.’

  Thomas stepped forward without saying a word. He tried the gates as we had all done, bent down and peered at the lock. Then he stood away and gazed thoughtfully before him, while he removed a stethoscope and patella hammer from one of his jacket pockets. He glanced round and then handed both to me. I accepted them automatically and watched intrigued while he fumbled in the same pocket, and this time produced a pair of pliers and a screwdriver.

  Jill gaped at him with the amazed expression I felt must be on my own face, as efficiently, but silently, he proceeded to mend the lock. We all watched, still silent, as he retrieved his property from my hands, tucked everything away in his pocket and then tested the gate. It slid open smoothly.

  Home Sister was delighted with him. ‘Thomas, this is most efficient and kind. Do you consider I need trouble Mr. Jenks now?’

  He tested the gate twice. ‘No.’

  Sister was not quite ready to leave. She turned to me. ‘I trust that you will never cause this trouble again, Nurse Fraser.’

  Thomas gazed at the wall over my head while she was lecturing me. Jill was staring unhappily at her feet. When he and Sister disappeared from our midst in the lift, Jill and I remained staring at the empty lift-well.

  Jill whispered, ‘Who was that, Sue? He can’t be an engineer with a stethoscope and patella hammer, but if he is a student, why carry mechanical tools?’

  ‘His name is Thomas. He must be a student, as Sister said she expected he had to go on a round.’

  ‘Thomas who?’

  ‘I don’t know. Just Thomas. He was having coffee with Sister. He must be some friend or relative because she sent his mother her love. He must be getting married soon, because he brought Sister an invitation to his wedding, and she is looking forward to going to it and seeing all the family.’ Now the lift was mended my spirits began to rise. ‘I must say, Jill, it will be some wedding. Home Sister is enough to quench the wildest party. If you add to that the silent Thomas as a groom ‒ with or without pliers and stethoscope ‒ it really should be a wow!’

  She grinned. ‘He never said one word all the time he was mending it.’

  ‘He did.’ We strolled towards my room. ‘He said “No”. Not that that will be much use at a wedding. Grooms can’t say “No”. They have to say, “I will”, or something, don’t they?’

  ‘I think men have to say more than “I will”. They have to say that bit about endowing with all their worldly goods.’

  We had reached my room. I took off my apron and shoes. ‘Thomas can endow his bride with his pliers and stethoscopes. He’ll certainly be a splendid man about a house. Chuck me over that sweater and skirt, Jill. Now I haven’t got to nip over to Mr. Jenks and the backroom boys, I can have my walk.’

  She helped me to change, reluctantly, but kindly. ‘You would be much wiser to write up your lecture. Sister Tutor will create like mad if your book is late in again.’

  I slipped my sweater over my head. ‘Relax, Jill. I’ll get them all up-to-date on my day off. I can’t go home until the end of the month because I’m broke, and as I don’t know anyone in London I’m quite happy to use my day off for lecture writing.’

  It was lovely out-of-doors. The early autumn air had the faint redolence of wine. I did not hurry on my way to the public park that lay roughly a mile from the hospital. Being a stranger in London, I was still too fascinated by the old buildings, shops and people to want to dash ahead as the people all round me were dashing. And then I thought how pleasant it would be to have friends in London; someone with small children I could perhaps borrow for an hour or so and take for a walk in the park. At home in Hampshire, I seemed to know dozens of young marrieds. My father, who had qualified at Joseph’s, was our local G.P.; he always regarded his patients as old friends, and through him my mother and I were on visiting terms with everyone for miles around my home.

  I was not at all lonely. The weather was too brilliant, and my hospital life too busy, to allow me to feel lonely merely because I had to walk alone. I turned into the park and wandered towards the lake and the ducks, wishing I had remembered to bring some scraps of bread with me. As I could not feed the ducks, I did the next best thing and sat on one of the benches by the water, to watch a crowd of under fives cheerfully heaving bread around.

  The bench was empty when I sat down. From time to time passers-by stopped and smiled at the children. I did not bother to look at any of my companions closely, being far too amused by the scene before me, and it was only after some time that I realised that someone had been sitting at the far end of the bench for quite a while. The man had a large book open on his lap and I wasn’t surprised to see it was Gray’s Anatomy. That particular park was regarded as private property by the members of our hospital, and at most hours of the day, on at least half the benches, you would see young men and women sitting frowning over vast medical textbooks. I was only surprised when I looked sideways again at my companion’s face. He was so engrossed in his Gray’s that he was oblivious of my presence, so I had plenty of time to look properly at him now there was no disapproving Sister to distract my attention.

  Thomas’s hair was ruffled, as it had been this morning; his face was pleasantly tanned. By no stretch of imagination could he be called good-looking in the usual sense, yet he had an attractive appearance. His face was what my father would have called honestly ugly; he had an intelligent brow and a very strong jaw. I could not see his eyes as he was reading; his brows were darker than his hair, and the lines of his face were calm and even-tempered. Something about him reminded me of Mr. Brown. It was not only that they were both enormous men; they had the same placid air. I turned back to the ducks thinking what a good thing it was that large men should be placid. Thomas or Mr. Brown in a real fury would be an awesome prospect.

  A fat little drake came out of the water with the rolling gait of an old sailor and rocked towards our bench. He stopped a few feet from us and began pecking at something on the grass. Apparently he did not like what he was pecking; he ruffled his damp feathers and quacked at me pathetically. I got up to investigate. ‘Don’t you like worms after bread and cake?’ I murmured as I bent down to see what was so annoying him. Something glinted in the grass. I picked up the object and turned round quickly. ‘Excuse me, but aren’t these ‒’ But the bench was empty. Thomas had gone, leaving me standing with his precious pliers in my hand.

  I looked round the park for him, and caught sight of his head and shoulders disappearing towards the entrance. I hurried off through the crowd, using my ward walk, and was within twenty yards of him when he reached the entrance. I called, ‘Excuse me, Mr. ‒’ then realised I did not know his surname. He paid no attention to my call, if he heard it, so I raised my voice and yelled, ‘Hey, Thomas!’ I used what my father called “Sue’s getting-in-the-cows voice”. He heard me then. He stopped, turned slowly, and saw me chasing after him. He looked utterly amazed.

  ‘I’m sorry to shout at you,’ I apologised breathlessly when I caught up with him. ‘I’ve been trying to stop you.’

  ‘Oh?’ His tone was not exactly forthcoming, but I was too grateful for his help this morning to be put off.

  ‘Yes. You must have dropped these. Your pliers,’ I added as he gazed at them without taking them from my hand. ‘At least, I suppose they are yours?’ I had not doubted this previously, but his stare made me suddenly uncertain.

  ‘Yes. They are.’ He accepted them at last. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m glad I found them. A duck was trying to eat them.’ I beamed at him as I spoke, guessing that he might be paralysed with shyness. Jill, I knew, suffered agonies in any new encounter
. I was shy with very clever, or sophisticated older people, but luckily never felt so with my own contemporaries, and I could certainly never feel shy with someone who reminded me of nothing so much as a huge teddy bear. I went on beaming as I rattled out the little speech of thanks I had been preparing while I chased him. He listened politely.

  When I had finished, he muttered, ‘That’s all right.’

  I waited hopefully; perhaps he was going to add more. He did not. He did not move either. He remained standing on the edge of the pavement with his Gray’s under his arm, looking down at me. His steady gaze was becoming unnerving. I said, ‘I’m just going back to the hospital.’

  He said, ‘I am, too,’ and was silent again.

  My smile felt rather strained. I had not expected him to fall on my neck in gratitude, but I had not expected this impassiveness. Suddenly I lost my nerve. I just could not say, ‘Then shall we go back together?’ And as he said nothing and showed no signs of moving, I said, hastily, ‘I’d better go or I’ll be late. Goodbye.’ And I stepped rashly into the road.

  He lunged forward, caught my arm and hauled me back on to the pavement as a double-decker bus swung past. I had just time to see the driver’s quick scowl and hear the conductor call sternly, ‘You watch how you go, Miss! Another time you may not be lucky enough to have your young gentleman with you.’

  ‘So sorry,’ I shouted, then looked at Thomas. ‘Phew! That was a near thing. I was a fool to do that.’

  ‘Yes, you were,’ he said.

  I nodded meekly. ‘Thank you very much once more. You have certainly saved my life this time.’ I watched the traffic carefully. ‘I’ll look where I’m going ‒ and I must go or I’ll be late on duty.’

  He looked at the road. ‘I’d better take you back.’ He said that as if I were an irresponsible child, and I could not really blame him. He escorted me across the road when there was a safe space, propelling me by the elbow, and when we reached the opposite pavement he marched me gravely and silently back to the front steps of our Home.