Heidelberg Wedding. Бетти Нилс

her things together when the ambulance arrived and Mrs Clarence was loaded carefully into it. It was a low-slung vehicle with a blaring horn and a turn of speed that outstripped Mr Clarence’s Cadillac, following behind.

      Portimao looked interesting under the bright sunshine; Eugenia looking out of the small window, hoping she might have time to explore it, but that seemed unlikely.

      The hospital was small, tucked away in the centre of the town, but the room they were led to was bright and airy, and Eugenia lost no time in making her patient comfortable. Dr da Marcos came with Mr Grenfell presently, accompanied by another older man, who was introduced as the anaesthetist. They stood around talking pleasantly, taking it in turns to examine Mrs Clarence, making cheerful remarks as they did so. ‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t return to England soon,’ observed Mr Grenfell. ‘You have two boys at school, I believe?’

      Mrs Clarence’s pale face lighted. ‘Oh, do you really think so? I should love that—and to feel well again.’

      He smiled gently. ‘I can see no obstacle. It will be up to you, once the operation is over, to get fit as quickly as possible. In three weeks’ time you should be fit to travel.’

      He got up from the side of the bed. ‘We’ll leave you to Sister, now. Presently she’ll go away for a little while to have her lunch, but in the meantime Dr da Marcos will bring you your other nurse, Amalia Deniz, so that you can get to know each other. She speaks English.’

      He went away, and presently Dr da Marcos came back with a pretty dark girl with a smiling face, who shook hands with Eugenia and then with her patient. The three of them talked for a few minutes and then Eugenia took her on one side. ‘Shall I explain Mr Grenfell’s methods now?’ she asked. ‘And may I call you Amalia, and you call me Eugenia if you will,’ and when the other girl agreed readily: ‘Good, now here are the charts—I’m to stay with Mrs Clarence until midnight, but I’m only next door, so don’t mind calling me if you’re worried or need help—it’s so much easier with two. I’ll give you a hand with the bed and so on in the morning before you go off at eight o’clock. Now this is what Mr Grenfell intends to do…’

      Amalia was quick; she grasped the main points at once. ‘I have never seen this operation,’ she observed. ‘They always go to Lisbon.’

      ‘Yes, I know, but Mrs Clarence is too ill to stand such a long journey. You’ll go back with her to her home, won’t you? I shall be there for a day or two, but we have to go back to England in a week’s time.’

      Someone came to take her to lunch presently, an early meal so that she would have time to get Mrs Clarence ready for theatre. She wasn’t very hungry and she sat alone in a small dining room filled with tables, presumably where the hospital staff had their meals. She ate the fish and rather sweet custard tart and drank some black coffee, then went back to Mrs Clarence, fretful now and a little frightened. Luckily it was time to give the pre-med Eugenia and Amalia put on gowns, tied back their hair, talking gently the while, and then put on Mrs Clarence’s gown and slid the needle expertly into the thin arm.

      An hour later Eugenia was in theatre, gowned and masked and scrubbed up and decidedly peevish. Mr Grenfell had omitted to tell her that she was expected to scrub for the operation. She had supposed that there would be a theatre nurse to do that, and indeed the nurse in charge had scrubbed as well, explaining cheerfully to Eugenia that she had never seen open chest surgery—all such cases went to Lisbon, and although she was eager to assist she was glad Eugenia was taking the case. Eugenia didn’t share the gladness; she hadn’t scrubbed for quite some time. It would serve Mr Grenfell right if she made a mess of it.

      She didn’t, of course. They worked together, speaking rarely, relaxed and at ease with each other. Mr Grenfell worked without haste and finally stood back to allow his assistant to finish the stitching. ‘She’ll do,’ he said, and then: ‘Thank you, Sister.’ He began to pull off his gloves. ‘I’ll see you in the room they’ve set up for intensive care. Go with the patient.’

      He sounded coldly polite, and Eugenia, peeling off her own gloves wondered why she should feel unhappy about that.

      CHAPTER THREE

      EUGENIA WAS KEPT busy for some time. There were the tubes to keep a sharp eye on, the blood transfusion to regulate and continuous oxygen to control. Amalia had been waiting for them and Eugenia had been glad of her skilled help. The anaesthetist and Mr Grenfell came in together within minutes of them getting Mrs Clarence positioned in her bed, examined her briefly, pronounced themselves satisfied and went away again. It was just a question of waiting for her to come round from the anaesthetic before propping her up on her pillows.