Island Hospital (14 page)

Her heart turned cold within her when she met his eyes. “Haven’t you heard? There’s a smallpox scare on. There have been two deaths already at the quarantine station. Some poor wretched sailor must have picked it up in the Far East. I don’t suppose you have even a glimmer of what we’re in for, eh?”

Sheila shook her head numbly.

Alan almost ignored her as he continued: “It means we have to check that every man, woman and child in our two hundred odd square miles of territory has been vaccinated in the past three years. Think, girl, of what that’s going to mean. Not just the names we have on our
list
...
that only covers the patients who have actually attended here ... but anyone living, fishing, logging, trapping or just visiting in our area. It would have to happen in the summer when we’re all cluttered up with summer visitors.” He groaned, and ran his fingers angrily through his hair, which was already standing up in irate curls. “I don’t suppose you’ve even vaccinated anyone yet.”

Sheila found herself cringing beneath his scorn. “I can learn,” she said meekly.

Alan looked at her more closely. “Sorry, Sheila, I didn’t mean to be such a brute. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. George will keep me up to all hours gassing about his research. It’s damned interesting and I get just as absorbed in it as he does once we get started, but it doesn’t put the cat to bed. I haven’t done a stroke of work on my
o
wn project since he came. I’ve told the radio station to broadcast appeals for people to come here to be vaccinated. But of course, we’ll have to make trips into the outlying districts as well just to make sure we don’t miss anyone out.” He looked at her keenly. “I suppose I’d better let you and George carry on with that part. Suit you?”

Sheila colored under his gaze. “If you say so,” she said slowly. Alan laughed with a sudden lifting of his mood. “There isn’t time to go into that now. Tell Jim to bring the medical provisions into my office as soon as they come. I’ve phoned Vancouver for more vaccine, but of course they’re swamped with requests from their own clinics.” He sobered suddenly. “It wouldn’t be so bad if it were ordinary smallpox, but this is
black smallpox.
I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen a case. You wouldn’t forget it if you had.” He shuddered. “One of the girl medicos in my year picked it up. You couldn’t have put a pinhead between the spots. She died, of course ... she and her people didn’t believe in vaccination ... poor, silly fools. It cost her her life and they never saw their daughter again. She had to be sealed in her little lead coffin before they could get down from Alaska.” He looked at Sheila in sudden anxiety. “When were you last done?”

Sheila had to coax her memory. “Two years ago, I think,” she said slowly.

Alan stared at her and then grabbed her by the arm. “Come along then. I’ll do you now just to be on the safe side. There’s some of the last batch left.”

Sheila found herself in the dressing ward rolling up her sleeve. Alan swabbed her arm carefully. “I should really do it on your leg,” he said with a wicked grin, “but since your last take was on your arm, it makes no great odds. It will only hurt a little.” Sheila was conscious of two tiny jabs and then watched Alan smear the serum carefully into the minute perforations. He picked up a dressing and put it gently in place.

“You’ll be safer with that on, otherwise that tight sleeve of yours may rub it.”

He picked up another vial and rolled up his own sleeve. Sheila watched him dubiously. “Right now you can learn how to do a vaccination. You’ll be doing them in your sleep before the week’s out or my name’s not Alan Greenwood.”

Sheila swabbed his arm with none of her customary deftness. Her fingers had a queer tremble in them as she picked up the slender glass rod and looked at it stupidly.

Alan laughed. “Come on, it won’t bite you. You stab me with the pointed end and the vaccine is in the rod.” He held out his arm invitingly. “It isn’t every day that I can be vaccinated by a pretty girl like you. Last time I was done by a tough old sergeant who didn’t have an ounce of feeling left in him.”

Sheila grasped Alan’s arm firmly and was conscious of an odd little tingle at the contact. She was very much aware of Alan’s eyes watching her. She made a timid little stab.

Alan snorted. “You really have to put a bit of beef behind it. I won’t faint or anything, I promise you.”

Feeling an utter fool, Sheila tried again. She heard a roar of laughter from Alan.

“That’s done it. Why did you have to close your eyes? A good nurse always watches what she’s doing.”

Sheila opened her eyes confusedly and looked miserably at Alan “I didn’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

Alan stopped laughing abruptly. “Put the dressing on and then come here,” he ordered. His voice was very quiet, but there was a controlled vibrance about it that made Sheila tremble absurdly.

She did as she was told and then stood in front of Alan, her hands behind her like a very junior probationer. His face softened a little as he saw her expression. He held her gently to him and his hand went up to stroke her hair.

“Poor little Sheila. I’m not very nice to you.”

Sheila closed her eyes and tried to subdue the tremble that threatened to spread through her whole body. If only this moment could go on forever.

Alan felt her shivering and released her abruptly. “Stop it at once, Sheila. Haven’t you the sense to see that a man like me has too much to do, and goodness only knows life’s short enough without cluttering it up with women, whether hell-cats like Clare, or sweet little girls like you.”

Sheila stared at him in utter dismay, her face whitening, and her gray eyes darkening until they looked like deep pools of despair. “Alan, how could you!” There was a roaring in her ears and a chilly flood began to overwhelm her and she felt herself falling into darkness.

She was dimly conscious of Alan’s roaring at her. “Why didn’t you tell me you get serum sickness, you silly little fool!”

Her lips tried to form the words. “But I didn’t know, Alan.” It was a
cry of distress that seemed to go floating up from the deep pit where she was falling.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sheila
became aware of a smarting pain in her arm and a bitter taste in her mouth and she could hear voices oddly faint and far away. She tried to concentrate her wavering attention on what they were saying.

Clare’s voice was as sharp as a knife. “Serves you jolly well right for messing around instead of doing it officially. I can’t see Matron approving.”

Alan’s tone was rough with temper. “Did anyone ever tell you that one of these days I’ll get around to wringing your neck? For two pins I’d do it now.”

Clare’s laugh was scornful. “That’ll be the day!”

Sheila attempted to open her eyes. She could hear Alan’s heavy breathing coming closer.

“Is that a dare, Clare Boothby?”

A startled Clare was retreating as Sheila stirred. “Sh-sh! She’s coming around.”

Sheila lifted heavy eyelids to find Clare bending over her. Instinctively Sheila looked past her, searching for Alan, but there was no sign of him.

“For the love of Mike, must you flop all over the place like this?” Clare’s contemptuous tone made Sheila flush.

“I’m
sorry
...
I can’t think why I did.” She struggled to sit up. Clare made no move to help her. “Sure you’re all right? Maybe Matron should know about this little
episode
...
”

Sheila was up off the couch, very pink in the face, a little uncertain on her feet. “There’s no need. I’m all right.” She picked up her ruffled cap and began to smooth out the creases.

Clare watched her with cool deliberation. “When are you going to get wise to the fact that Alan has no use for pretty English misses that faint at the prick of a needle and so on? You’re wasting your time trying to catch his attention with your little tricks. Why don’t you clear out and let him get on with his work?”

Sheila stared at her in utter astonishment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said unsteadily. “I came here to do a job, that’s
all
.”

Clare turned on her heel. “Pity you don’t remember that more often then,” she said coolly, and went out of the room.

Sheila began to clear up the dressing ward with fingers that trembled. Did Alan really think she was chasing him? Her head ached dully as she tried to think back over her actions. Was the fact that she had listened sympathetically to his plans counted as provocative behavior? The door behind her opened and her cheeks flushed painfully as she turned to see Alan standing there.

He eyed her searchingly. “All right? If that’s a sample of your reaction, let’s hope your vaccination takes. I’d rather not go through that little lark again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said wearily. “I didn’t mean to be a nuisance. I’m sorry if I interfere with your
work
...
”

Alan stared at her for a moment. “Clare been getting at you? I’m sick of the way you women always want to be messing things up. How can a man get on with his work with you two making eyes at me? Can’t you see it my way, Sheila? I’ve got a job on my hands and it will need every bit of my attention if we’re going to get through without an epidemic. I’ve no time for kissing ... if that’s what you want ... no matter how much I might want to
—”

“But I never wanted you to kiss me!” Sheila said furiously.

“No?” Alan, with a single lithe movement, swept her into his arms and began kissing her, gently at first, and then with mounting passion until she lay limply against his arm. He looked down at her and laughed with a note of mockery.

“Still not want to be kissed, eh?”

Sheila stirred. “That wasn’t fair, Alan. Please let me go.”

He stared at her unbelievingly for a moment, and then pulled her abruptly to her feet. His face looked suddenly older and very tired. “You can put those kisses in your scrapbook,” he said bitterly. “I shan’t bother you again. I thought you cared. How great a fool can a man be?”

Sheila heard the reproach in his voice with bewilderment. Her main desire was to get away. She turned quickly and went out through the door. She almost fell over Clare, who came around the corner unexpectedly.

Clare looked at her sharply. “My bet is that Alan’s been kissing you ... I suppose you made him.”

Sheila struggled for words, but before she could speak, Clare cut in:

“You might be interested to know that Alan was kissing
me
before you came to, just now. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Miss Prim! Just in case you’re thinking that Alan’s kisses mean
anything
...
”

The sheer cruelty of Clare’s statement robbed Sheila of her self control. “I hate you! Why can’t you leave me alone? I never did anything to hurt you. I hate you both!” She turned and fled toward her room, tears blinding her, and flung herself on the bed, weeping for what had never
been
...

The sun was creeping down the mountainside when Sheila finally bathed her face and began to sort out her battered feelings. Perhaps Clare was right. Perhaps she would be better working in Vancouver. She’d ask Matron if she could be released from her contract. She could stay with her cousins until she got another job. Perhaps working in a big hospital was safer after all ... what she was cut out for. She didn’t want to face Alan after what he had said ... after what Clare had said. No doubt he had just been amusing himself and she had only imagined the regret in his voice when she had rebuffed him. No doubt he would be glad when she was gone. And there was no doubt about Clare.

Sheila crossed to the window and looked down at the bay. Not a ripple marred the surface of the water. Perhaps if she asked Jim, he would let her borrow the dinghy. She could explore the outer harbor. She changed into her slacks and picked up a heavy cardigan.

She found Jim working on the
Sea Witch,
wielding a paint brush as if he were painting a fine picture. He was tactful enough to ignore the traces of crying.

“Sure you can borrow the dinghy. Wait! I’ve got a better idea. Why not borrow the doctor’s canoe? He won’t be using it tonight. I’ll tell him you’ve taken it.”

Sheila hesitated. She didn’t want to be beholden to Alan of all people, but the temptation was too great. She was dying to get into a canoe again and it would be much nicer than the heavier row boat.

Jim held the canoe steady while she stepped into it. “Better have the smaller paddle, lass. The doctor’s is a mite heavy for you. Okay now?” He hesitated. “Someone been making you cry, eh? Don’t let it get you down.”

Sheila’s mouth trembled. “I always seem to do the wrong thing. Somehow I don’t think I fit in
here
...
”

“Don’t ever say that, lass. It’s been a better place since you came ... you and Doc.”

“Thanks, Jim.” Sheila tried to smile as she pushed the canoe out into the channel.

The loveliness of the late afternoon crept into her heart and soothed some of its ache. Her lips still had a tendency to tremble as she thought over what had happened. Perhaps Jim was right.

The loveliness of the afternoon soothed Sheila’s aching heart
...
if only she did not have to go back.