A Match For Sister Maggy. Бетти Нилс

her chair. ‘Sit down now, Staff, and do it this minute.’ She smiled at the other girl. ‘I’m off on my round.’

      As she went she told herself that it was her own fault anyway that she hadn’t been on duty. Staff had said that he was coming again on the following Sunday—it was her free weekend in any case. The thought put her in mind of the amount of work she had to do, and she resolutely put all thoughts of the doctor out of her mind.

      When she got to Mrs Salt’s bed, she found that old lady in a gossiping mood.

      ‘Yer missed ’im,’ she informed Maggy. ‘And now it’s yer weekend, ain’t it, love, so yer won’t see ’im then either. But I ’eard ’im asking Staff if you was on duty next Thursday evening, and she said Yes, and ’e says Good, I’ll be along then. So you’ll see ’im then.’

      Maggy straightened a pillow. ‘Is that so, Mrs Salt? And I’ve just remembered that I’ll have to change my off duty on Thursday. Isn’t that a pity?’

      She turned to the next bed, and found Madame Riveau sitting up in a chair. She would be going home very soon now, but she looked ill and spiritless. Maggy eyed her swollen jaws but remained silent. It was to be hoped that the woman would go to her own dentist as soon as she got home. She asked a few questions of her, but her answers were surly and unwilling, so she left her and went on down the ward and finally into Sep.

      Mevrouw Doelsma smiled at her from her pillows, and Maggy thought how pretty she was now that she was better and had some colour in her cheeks, and a faint sparkle in her eyes.

      ‘Maggy, Paul missed you yesterday. He expected you to be on duty.’ Maggy went across the room and adjusted the blind, then said, with her back to her patient,

      ‘I changed my off-duty at the last minute.’ She smiled over her shoulder.

      ‘And you won’t be here tomorrow either?’

      ‘No, it’s my weekend, but Staff is very efficient…’

      Mevrouw Doelsma looked at Maggy’s rather nice back view. ‘I wouldn’t dream of asking you to lose a minute of your free time, but I’m selfish enough to like you here all the time. Oh well, he’ll be over again on Thursday. You’ll be here then, won’t you?’

      Maggy hesitated; she didn’t like telling lies. ‘Well, I usually am.’ She achieved the half truth, feeling guilty.

      She spent the weekend trying to think of a good excuse for changing her evening off. It was nothing short of a miracle that Williams should come to her during Monday and ask if she could possibly have Wednesday evening free. Maggy breathed a sigh of relief and, taking care not to appear too pleased, agreed.

      Wednesday evening was fairly quiet. She did the medicine round and started the report before going to supper, and when she came back went to see Mevrouw Doelsma, who was sitting up in bed, ready for someone to talk to. She looked rather excited, Maggy thought, as she tidied her pillows, she supposed that she was pleased because she was making such good progress. Another two weeks and there would be talk of her going home. It was almost eight-thirty. She switched off the ceiling light, leaving the little bedside lamp burning, and went to the door and opened it, then turned round again to say,

      ‘I’m going to give the report, Mevrouw Doelsma. Ring if you want anything; I’ll be in to say goodnight later.’ She stepped backwards on to a foot, and didn’t need to hear the chuckle above her left ear to know whose it was. A very large gentle hand clipped her round the waist.

      ‘And do you number me among your enemies that you trample me so ruthlessly under foot? At best a poor way of greeting me after almost two weeks!’

      She stood within the circle of his arm, fighting to breathe normally.

      ‘Ye ken well you’re no enemy of mine, Dr Doelsma—and I didna’ expect ye.’

      He dropped his arm and she turned to face him with what dignity she could muster.

      He smiled at her. ‘No, you didn’t, did you, Sister MacFergus? I should have warned you not to try the same trick twice.’

      She opened her mouth to speak, but only succeeded in making a small choking sound.

      ‘That’s right,’ he said kindly. ‘I wouldn’t say anything you may regret later. And if you want to know how I found out, I have no intention of telling you.’ He looked down at his well brushed shoes. ‘Aren’t you going to say you’re sorry? I’m in great pain…’

      Maggy laughed, ‘Oh, Dr Doelsma, what’s to be done with you?’

      ‘I’m open to suggestions,’ he murmured.

      Maggy frowned. ‘Yes, well,’ she said briskly, ‘I’ll away to give the report.’ She smiled at Mevrouw Doelsma and swept past him without a glance.

      He went over to the bed then, kissed his mother, and tumbled a pile of books on to the bed-table. ‘I’ve been to see Uncle Charles,’ he said. ‘He’s very satisfied, Mother. If we can get Maggy to accompany you home, I should think you could go in a fortnight. You’ll have to lead a quiet life for several weeks, you know.’

      He drew up a chair, and they became immersed in plans.

      There was a subdued hum of voices coming from behind the shut door of the office. Maggy opened the door and stood looking around her, too surprised to speak. The night nurses as well as Sibley and Sims were there, feverishly arranging a vast number of red roses into vases. Sibley looked up when the door opened, and said. ‘Sister, Dr Doelsma asked us to put them in water—he brought them for you.’

      Maggy closed her mouth, which had dropped open. ‘But there are dozens. They can’t all be for me, there must be some mistake.’

      ‘No, Sister. He said, “These are all for Sister MacFergus.” There’s six dozen of them,’ she added in an awed voice.

      ‘How nice.’ Maggy’s voice sounded faint in her own ears. ‘Thank you for arranging them.’ She sent the day nurses off duty, and sitting in a bower of roses, gave the report. After she had done a round with the night nurse she went back to the office. The little room smelled delicious, she crossed the landing to Sep and went in. The doctor unfolded himself from his chair.

      ‘I hear that my mother’s progress is excellent, Sister.’ He looked and sounded exactly like any other consultant—friendly, cool and remote.

      She answered suitably, sedately, wished her patient a good night and went back to the door, feeling awkward. He opened it for her, and stood back politely, waiting for her to pass through. She stopped in the doorway, and raised her eyes to his, she sounded breathless.