Sister.’
The small hand was moving again, curling round her thumb.
Mr Spence had just finished his list in Theatre and he still wore his Theatre kit as he came soft-footed to stand by the bed, followed by his registrar.
‘Give your report, Nurse,’ said Sister Crump.
Which Caroline did, trying to keep the quiver of excitement out of her voice. Put into a few sparse words it didn’t sound much, but as she spoke Marc lifted his arm very slightly as though he wanted to make himself more comfortable. ‘Eureka,’ said Mr Spence softly. ‘Someone get hold of Mr van Houben.’
He wasn’t in the hospital, although he had left a phone number where he could be reached. It was two or three hours later by the time he entered the room, looking calm and unflustered, giving no indication that he had been driving hell-for-leather down the M1 from Birmingham where he had gone to give his opinion concerning the anaesthetising of a patient with a collapsed lung and a tracheotomy into the bargain.
It was at that moment that Marc opened his eyes, blinked and closed them again.
‘Too soon to carry out any tests,’ said Mr Spence. ‘Another three or four hours—do you agree?’ When Mr van Houben nodded, he added, ‘We’ll be back around four o’clock, Sister.’ His eye lighted on Caroline, sitting like a small statue, not moving. ‘You are to stay with Marc, Nurse.’
Which made sense; she had seen the very first movements, and she was in a better position to gauge his progress or deterioration than anyone else coming fresh to the scene. All the same, she hoped that someone would bring her a cup of coffee before Mr Spence returned.
They did better than that. A tray of tea and sandwiches was brought and arranged where she could get at it without disturbing the child, and, besides, Sister Crump was in and out every hour or so. Marc hadn’t moved again; Caroline had charted his movements carefully, noting with delight that his temperature had come down a little. Certainly his pulse was steady.
She was stiff and cramped by the time the men came back. Mr Spence said, ‘Good—take over, Sister, will you?’ And watched while Caroline withdrew her hand, only to have it clutched again.
‘You’d better stay; we don’t want him disturbed in any way.’
A silly remark, thought Caroline, watching the gentle poking and prodding, the tickling of the small feet with a pin, the meticulous examination for pupil reaction, for Marc was disturbed, making small fretful movements and wriggling at the touch of a pin. But of course that was what they had hoped for: all the signs of a return to consciousness. The three men and Sister Crump bent over the bed and Caroline sat on a hard chair out of their way. She was happy about little Marc; it was the nicest thing which had happened to her for a long time. Mr van Houben must be over the moon, she reflected, although it was too early to tell if there would be lasting damage to little Marc; he had a long way to go still… Feeling selfish and uncaring, she longed for a cup of tea. At such dramatic moments cups of tea and feeling tired were not to be considered.
Little Marc had fallen asleep again—natural sleep now, not a coma—and the men were still discussing further treatment. It was Sister Crump, her eyes lighting upon Caroline’s small person in a corner, who exclaimed, ‘Go off duty, Nurse, I’m sorry you’re late. You’ve missed your tea—go to the canteen and see if they’ll boil you an egg or let you have your supper early. You missed your lunch?’
Caroline nodded and stood up. The men were writing now, absorbed in their problems. She whispered, ‘Good evening, Sister,’ and slipped out of the room and down the ward and out on to the landing beyond before anyone had a chance to say anything to her. Presumably the nurse to relieve her was already waiting; Sister Crump would be there to brief her. She made her way down to the canteen and found no one there, something she had half expected, for tea had been finished hours ago and first supper wasn’t until seven o’clock. All the same she went up to the counter in case there was someone beyond it in the serving-room.
‘No good your coming in here, Nurse. You know as well as I do that there’s nothing to be had between meals. Supper’s at the usual time; you’ll just have to wait.’
So calmly Caroline went away again, back up the stairs to the ground floor; she would make a pot of tea and take off her shoes and sit and drink it and then, tired though she was, get into a coat and go for a brisk walk. The streets round the hospital were shabby and houses down at heel, but it had been a grey April day and dusk cast a kindly mantle over them. She didn’t much care for a walk in such surroundings, but fresh air and exercise seemed more important than any other consideration.
She started along the corridor which ran at the back of the entrance hall and then stopped with a small gasp when she was tapped on the shoulder.
Mr van Houben, unhurried and as always, immaculate, was at her side. ‘When did you go on duty, Nurse?’
‘Ten o’clock, sir.’
‘You have had no off duty?’
‘I’m off now,’ she told him and added, ‘sir’ as she started off again.
‘Not so fast. Did I hear Sister Crump say that you have had no proper meal today?’
‘I have had sandwiches and coffee…’ She stopped to think—it seemed a long time ago.
‘Yes, yes—I said a meal.’
‘I shall go to supper presently.’
‘You deserve better than that. I’m hungry too; we’ll go and find somewhere to eat.’
‘We’ll what?’ She goggled at the sight of him, her mouth open like a surprised child. ‘But you can’t do that…’
‘Why not?’ he asked coolly. ‘I am not aware that I am restricted in my actions by anyone or anything.’
‘Well, no, of course you’re not. I mean, you don’t have to bother, do you? But it really wouldn’t do, you know. Important people like you don’t take junior nurses out to dinner.’
‘You are mistaken, we aren’t going to dinner. Go and put on a coat and some powder on your nose and we will go to the Bristling Dog down the street and eat sausages out of a basket.’
He didn’t wait for her reply. ‘And comb your hair,’ he advised her kindly as he gave her a gentle shove in the direction of the door to the nurses’ home. He added, ‘If you aren’t back here within ten minutes I shall come and find you.’
‘You can’t…’ He must be light-headed with hunger, she decided, or in a state of euphoria because Marc had shown the first tentative signs of recovery.
He said coldly, ‘Can I not?’ and gave her a steely look which sent her through the door and up the stairs to her room.
He had said ten minutes and he had undoubtedly meant what he had said. Caroline had never changed so fast in her life before. She raced out of her room and almost fell over Janey.
‘Hey—where are you off to?’ Janey made a grasp at her arm.
‘I can’t stop,’ said Caroline breathlessly, ‘he said in ten minutes…’
She raced down the stairs and Janey, five minutes later, told those of her friends who were in the sitting-room that Caroline had gone out with a man.
‘Good for her,’ said someone. ‘It’s time she had some fun.’
If Caroline had heard that remark she would have felt doubtful about the fun. Mr van Houben was waiting for her, looking remote, almost forbidding, and she very nearly turned tail and went back through the door. The prospect of a good supper was a powerful incentive, however, and she went to where he was standing and said quietly, ‘Well, here I am, Mr van Houben.’
He stood for a moment looking down at her. She had got into the first thing which had come to hand, a short jacket over a thin sweater and a pleated skirt, and, because ten minutes hadn’t been nearly