Love for the Matron (6 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Elizabeth
’
s h
ands were trembling as she tried to open her front door. In her haste she had forgotten Sister Winsley
’
s remark about how to turn the key to the left first
...
After a couple of minutes
’
endeavour she made herself stop. It was then she realized that unconsciously she must have been expecting Stuart to come after her, but there was only a light wind swaying the branches of the trees: somewhere in the distance a tomcat was serenading his mate. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and this time the door opened
easily. She resisted the impulse to hurry up the stairs. She must stop behaving like a teenager who had run into trouble on her first date.

Once the lights were on the quiet peacefulness of the house began to enfold her and she felt the tension begin to slip away as a nightmare does when the sleeper awakes. After all, what had happened was between Stuart and herself. There had been no witnesses other than the old grey stones of the castle walls, and
they must
have seen much violence through the centuries. She had been guilty of losing her temper, but she had been provoked. She had done something she had never done before
...
she had slapped a man
’
s face—and even now in the midst of regret she was conscious of a certain primitive satisfaction.

She knew that the hurt would have been more than physical as far as Stuart was concerned. He had always prided himself on being able to bring his victims to the very brink of losing their self
-
control and then would hold them there trembling on the edge helplessly by the sheer force of his personality until he became bored and would release them with a mocking laugh. This was the first time she had fought back, and in some strange way it seemed to set her free. She could face without self-loathing the realization that perhaps there had been som
e
thing in what he said
...
that in the beginning she had been unconsciously attracted to him because of some fancied resemblance to Irving, the boy she had loved so wholeheartedly for that long-ago summer.

Elizabeth sighed and poked the fire into cheerfulness and plugged in the electric kettle. It was as if she had suddenly grown up, become adult and mature, stepped from carefree twenty to a though
t
ful forty all in the space of an hour, and to her astonishment it wasn
’
t nearly as painful as she would have imagined. It must be the way the buds felt in the spring when they split their stiff coats of winter and began to unfold their delicate
leaves: she began to smile at the very thought and found herself laughing. Poor Stuart. She had been rather unkind to him, not only now b
u
t in the past. She was sorry, but being sorry wasn
’
t going to make her change her mind, she told herself stubbornly. He shouldn
’
t have said that about William Gregory either ... it was completely uncalled for, especially as she had met the man for the first time this miming.

Elizabeth made the tea, and while she was waiting for it to brew, her thoughts left William Gregory and went on to his daughter. What a delightful child Susan was, and already the woman in her was peeping through with devastating effect. Heaven forgive Stuart if he hurried her awakening. Elizabeth felt a little shiver of distrust run through her. Yet both Robin and Susan seemed to think the world of their neighbor, and children were said to be able to detect any sham. Could it be that Stuart was one of those unfortunate men who had nailed their colors to their
m
asts at an early age and spent the rest of their lives trying to convince an uncaring world that they weren
’
t like that at all? Hadn
’
t he said something about finding contentment here?
I
t didn
’
t sound like Stuart at all: once their conversational swords had crossed he hadn
’
t seemed any different from the man she had known two years ago.

The phone rang suddenly. For a moment she wasn
’
t sure where it was, and then she remembered that it was in the bedroom on the bedside table. Miss Brown must have had if put there because of her lameness. Who
c
ould be ringing at this hour?

As she picked up the receiver she heard a man
’
s voice say:

“Is that you, Miss Graham? William Gregory here. I just wanted to be sure you
’
d got back all right.”

As the little silence that followed stretched past the seconds, Elizabeth realized that a somewhat shy man was waiting for her to speak.

“Yes, thank you very much, Doctor Gregory. I
’
m afraid I
’
m just having a cup of tea before gathering strength to unpack. It was very kind of you to make me so welcome
‘
tonight. I did enjoy it.”

“I
’
m glad you did. Things are always somewhat at sixes and sevens at Castleford, but no one seems to mind. Odd that you and Stuart Nichols should meet again. I saw him just now when I was having a final look at the river. He seemed to think he might have upset you for some reason and it appeared to be worrying him.”

“I don
’
t think there
’
s any need for that,” Elizabeth said as calmly as she could.
“
I must get on with my unpacking if I
’
m to get to bed tonight. Thank you very much for ringing, Doctor Gregory.” She felt that perhaps she was being a little abrupt when he had bothered to find out if she were all right. “What a lovely daughter you have! You must be very proud of Susan.”

There was a brief silence as if her statement had presented him with an unfamiliar fact. “Is she? I suppose she is. Susan is a lot like her mother in a way ... the same red hair but her personality is a complete puzzle to me, I must confess
.
”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “Try to remember yourself when young. She
’
s very much like you, you know.”

“Like me? I never thought of that. Robin I can fathom to some extent, although his not wanting to be a doctor has been a bitter disappointment to me; perhaps I show it too much and—we jar on one another,” he admitted slowly.

Elizabeth took a chance. “It
’
s only by setting him free to follow his own bent that you
’
ll keep him. The young have to feel their wings beat strongly before they will submit to direction.”

“Perhaps you have something there. I mustn
’
t keep you. Good night, Miss Graham, and I hope you will be happy at St. Genevieve
’
s, even if we may sometimes disagree.”

There was the sound of a faint chuckle before the line went dead. Elizabeth put down the receiver and hurriedly finished her cooling tea. She had unpacked her first case and hung her frocks on their hangers when the phone went again. For a moment she was tempted not to answer it. After all, she wasn
’
t on duty; or had her predecessor, Miss Brown been available at all hours to those that needed her counsel and her comfort
?

“Matron here,” she said somewhat curtly.

“Elizabeth! Must you freeze a poor devil in that tone? I
’
ve been trying to get you for ages. The chap insisted that your line was engaged and got quite nasty
w
hen I suggested he was saying that because he didn
’
t want to put me through. Will you believe me if I say I
’
m really and truly sorry that I provoked you tonight
?
”

“I
’
m sorry, too,” Elizabeth said with unusual meekness. “There was no excuse for what I did. I
’
m not in the habit of slapping people.”

There was a laugh at the other end. “I
know. I haven
’
t recovered from the shock. Perhaps it did me good. Can
’
t we try again ... to be friends as we were before I went away?” There was an unusual note of pleading in his voice.

Elizabeth hesitated. She had no desire to be hurried towards a decision of any kind, and yet she didn
’
t want to hurt him again.

“I think it would be better if we pretended we
’
d just met and went on from there,” she suggested finally.

“You mean make a fresh start?”

“Something lik
e
that,” Elizabeth admitted.

He laughed again, and there was no mockery in it. “I think you
’
ll find I
’
m nicer than I used to be, Elizabeth. I know I slipped up tonight, but that was partly the shock of seeing you walk in, and I promise I won
’
t again
...
not if I can help it. All right?”

“We can try,” Elizabeth said rather dubiously. She was beginning to wonder if she had been hurried into a decision after all.

“You might sound as if the prospect pleased you,” Stuart said in a teasing tone. “Good night, Elizabeth—or should I call you Miss Graham, if we
’
re new friends?”

Elizabeth laughed helplessly. One could never stay angry with Stuart for long; or could one? “Good night, Stuart. Thanks for ringing.”

When she had put the receiver down she no longer felt like unpacking. The rest could wait until tomorrow. She had her bath and remembered to refill the hot water bottles. She had a feeling that if she didn
’
t, somehow Sister Winsley would hear about it and giv
e
her a scolding about sleeping in unaired beds. After she had switched out the light she lay there in the darkness, and through the open window came the distant s
ound
of a mighty river running strongly towards the faraway city. Earlier its throbbing crescendo of movement would have
been overlaid by the noises of the town, but now it was as prominent as a heartbeat and as insistent as a rising wind. To its symphony she drifted into sleep, and no dreams came her way and no ghosts walked down the corridors of time.

The thin ringing sound of her alarm brought her struggling up from the depths of sleep, and suddenly she wondered if Sister Winsley had remembered to tell Annie that she would be breakfasting with her staff. But before there was time to open her eyes properly there was a tap on the door land Annie, a thin-faced little woman with straggly very white hair, came in with a cup of tea and a disapproving look.

“Good morning, ma
’
am. I
’
m understanding that you don
’
t want me to g
ive
you breakfast as I did to Miss Brown these past ten years, bless her.”

Elizabeth felt she was being attacked while at a disadvantage.

She took the cup of tea from Annie. “It isn
’
t that I think you wouldn
’
t give me a very nice breakfast,” she explained, “but that I feel it would be fairer if I had it with my senior staff.”

“
Thought you would see enough of them, seeing them all day, but I understand what you mean. It isn
’
t as if you
’
ve been awake half the night with the pain in your joints the way Miss Brown was. She was never the one to make a fuss and she
’
d always have a smile for me no matter how bad she felt, and it would make my day, sort of.” She gave Elizabeth a fierce look. “Do you think they
’
ll be caring for her properly in that place
?
”

Elizabeth collected her scanty information. “I
’
m sure they w
i
ll, Annie, and if they can do something to make things easier for her, I
’
m sure you wouldn
’
t begrudge her the chance.”

“That I wouldn
’
t, ma
’
am, and I
’
d wish her back tomorrow—meaning you no disrespect—if she could be free from the pain. She was St. Genevieve
’
s, if you follow me.”

“I know what you mean, Annie. Everyone here seems to think such a lot of her. You must feel very proud to have worked for her,” Elizabeth said gently.

“That I do, ma
’
am. There
’
s no need for me to be working. I
’
ve got my pension and a bit and a small cottage, but I came in to oblige Miss Brown and I
’
ve sort of got into the way of it. I did think of leaving when I heard Miss Brown was going, but who would look after the Matron
’
s house if I did? I
’
ve run your bath for you, ma
’
am, and if there
’
s things you want laundered you might leave them out for me.”

Elizabeth thanked Annie and didn
’
t tell her that she had had a bath last night, She felt Annie
’
s world had taken enough jolts already.

Miss Selby and Sister Winsley stood up politely as Elizabeth came into breakfast, and it seemed fairly certain from the air of confusion that she had been the subject under discussion. She wished them good morning and glanced around the dining room. The other tables were empty and the breakfast things had been cleared away.

“The Ward Sisters have theirs at a quarter to eight, so that they can take the night report,” Miss Selby explained.

Elizabeth forbore to ask why the senior staff didn
’
t do the same so that the Night Sister could hand over and be off at eight like the rest of her night nurses. No doubt it was one of those little customs whose beginning was buried in the distant past. It was a change she could well leave until later. She might even discover that Night Sister came to first breakfast with the day nurses and preferred it that way.

The maid came in to serve Elizabeth, and she wondered if the kitchen had been warned that the Matron would be over for breakfast. The egg was nicely poached and a sprig of parsley decorated its top; the toast was hot and crisp and she was given a choice of tea or coffee. Conversation stayed safely on news in the nursing world, and before Elizabeth had finished, the other two excused themselves
and
hurried away to rearrange their day to suit the convenience of a Matron who came to breakfast. Elizabeth felt a trifle guilty as she allowed herself the full allotted half hour, but she didn
’
t want to upset too much sacred protocol on this her second day. Yesterday morning they had been blissfully unaware that a stranger was already in their midst.

Elizabeth went down the broad stairs towards the front hall where one of the daily women was bringing up a shine on the tiled floor. The cubbyhole behind the reception desk was empty, and no doubt there would be little business for the
cl
erk to deal with if she did come in before nine. The head porter was having a lengthy discussion with the operator on the switchboard and she heard their voices slide to a standstill as she went by: it didn
’
t take much imagination to know her arrival would soon be speeding around on the hospital grapevine. There was no sign of Margaret Smith in the little office next to hers and the letters hadn
’
t arrived. Elizabeth looked down at the folder she carried. At least she would have a chance to study its contents ... the homework she hadn
’
t had time for last night.

It was nine o
’
clock before she realized it. Margaret Smith appeared with an apologetic smile and with the post. Miss Selby knocked and came in to give a brief resume of the night report she had taken from Night Sister.

“Miss Selby, we will have to have a staff meeting with the Ward Sisters about the arrangements for the building program. Would Friday be suitable? If we leave it until then it will give you and me an opportunity to rough out the necessary changes in advance. Don
’
t you agree that if we move the Men
’
s Medical cases into the end ward of Men
’
s Surgical it will probably be the simplest solution?” Elizabeth watched opposition build up to breaking point.

“What about the old men on Men
’
s Medical, Miss Graham? They
’
ll only be a
nuisance to everyone, and anyway there isn
’
t enough bed space,” she brought out with scarcely disguised triumph.

“We can bring those two nearly empty storerooms next to Sister Ross
’
s office into use ... one as a dormitory for the old men and the other as a day room for them. If they have their fire and their TV I don
’
t suppose they
’
ll object to the move. I noticed that those old armchairs only need a bit of webbing or other minor repair. The carpenter can do them, and perhaps the sewing room have some curtains that would make up into temporary covers.” Elizabeth could tell from the expression on Miss Selby
’
s face that the other was seeing all those possibilities with her eyes and inwardly wishing that she had thought of them first.

“Very well, Miss Graham. Builders never are convenient and I suppose we
’
ll have to put up with them if they do turn up this time
...”

Elizabeth tapped an open letter on her desk. “They will, Miss Selby. I
’
ve just had the confirmation from the hospital architect.”

“Will there be anything else, Miss Graham?” The older woman sat on the edge of her chair, not quite daring to stan
d
up to go until Elizabeth had signified her dismissal.

“Yes, thank you, for the moment. Oh, before you go, what are the catering arrangements here
?
”

Miss Selby looked puzzled. “Do you mean the kitchen? Sister Winsley keeps an eye on them and helps with the special diets. We
’
ve got a young cook and she seems very keen, although a bit on the fancy side sometimes, and she gets on well with the rest of the kitchen staff. She does the orders, but Sister Winsley checks them and signs them unless it
’
s something extra, and then it usually comes up to my office for a second signature.”

Elizabeth nodded in a carefully non-committal way. “Thank you, Miss Selby. I know you have your own work to get on with, so I
’
ll do the round on my own this morning.”

Miss Selby got to her feet and then hesitated. “I hope you don
’
t mind my mentioning it, Miss Graham, but Doctor Gregory won
’
t take too kindly to having Men
’
s Medical moved and
...
”

Elizabeth interrupted gently. “Thank you for drawing my attention to the fact, Miss Selby.” She didn
’
t say anything more, but she knew the other woman realized that she had presumed enough.

Scarcely had the outer door closed behind Miss Selby when Margaret Smith came through from her little office with a tea
-
tray, and William Gregory was at her heels.

He gave Elizabeth a smile, but there was something about the expression in his eyes that suggested that he wasn
’
t altogether pleased with life.

“Good morning, Miss Graham. I trust the unpacking went well and you
’
re beginning to feel more settled.”

Elizabeth listened to his polite words, wondering what was on his mind that was taking some of the friendliness from his manner.

“Yes, thank you, Doctor Gregory, although I must confess I didn
’
t finish the unpacking. Won
’
t you sit down
?
Thank you, Miss Smith.”

The girl put the tray in front of Elizabeth and departed. The man waited patiently until Elizabeth had poured out the two cups of tea before speaking again.

“I didn
’
t mean to eavesdrop, but I
’
m afraid I couldn
’
t avoid overhearing Miss Selby
’
s remark. Don
’
t you think it might have been more courteous to discuss the matter with me first?”

Elizabeth sat very still in her chair. She was annoyed by the reproof even though she appreciated that he had some justice on his side.

“It would have been brought to you, Doctor Gregory, once we had a possible solution to offer. Too much time could be wasted if we all came to a conference table full of unprepa
re
d thoughts. Don
’
t you agree that it
’
s best if I worked out a program with my staff
?
Then it could be amended where necessary.”

He gave her a thoughtful look. “And allow me to depart thinking it was all my own idea?” he asked wryly.

Elizabeth flushed slightly. “A joint effort,” she said stiffly.

“H
’
mm, I suppose that would be a fairer description. However, now that I
’
m inadvertently
partly in the picture would it be asking too much to put me in possession of the solution as you see it?”

Elizabeth told him as briefly as she could. He nodded now and again during her recital, but whether in understanding or approval she couldn
’
t be sure.

There was a little silence when she had finished before he spoke.

“
Odd, isn
’
t it, the way we can
’
t see the answers lying under our noses until a stranger points them out? ... Is there another cup, Miss Graham?”

Elizabeth took his cup from him. “Don
’
t you think it
’
s because an insider is too close to the problem, and possibly too familiar with it?” she suggested.

“Like looking at a well-known painting, and unless you happen to have seen the artists preliminary sketches it never occurs to you that he might have arranged it differently ... Yes, I suppose you
’
re right. I think the old men will enjoy having a day room of their own. I
’
ll mention it to Dear Emily if you have no objection. I believe there are various sets of curtains that might be suitable for brightening it up, and no doubt we can arrange with the Picture Library to supply us with some attractive water-colors. That settles the old men. I
’
m not quite so happy about my other patients being transferred to the surgical ward. There
’
s always so much more going on there.”

“But wouldn
’
t that encourage them to make more of an effort?” Elizabeth suggested.

William Gregory laughed. “Depends upon what they
’
re in for. My coronaries and gastrics have been making
too
much of an effort, and that
’
s why they
’
re in hospital. What about the end ward on Men
’
s Surgical
?
”

“
Sister Ross uses it for the patients coming back from Theatre,” Elizabeth told him.

“She does, does she? How about the sun porch, or does Sister Ross reserve that for another special category?”

Elizabeth glanced down at her notes. “She
’
s been putting the younger ones there,” she said slowly, “but we could use the end ward on the Children
’
s Ward for them. Sister Moffatt wouldn
’
t be too keen, but no doubt she
would co-operate.”