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Authors: Sheila Ridley

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BOOK: Outpost Hospital
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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Her mind was clear now, and the clearest thing in it was that Andrew knew that she was in love with Mark. After all the months of trying to stifle it and push it into the back of her heart, telling herself she was getting over it, it had come out. It was a relief in a way, for it had troubled her to know she was not being entirely open and honest with Andrew. But it meant that she had lost the man who loved her, a man she could have found happiness with, and now she was left with nothing.

And what of Andrew? Was his love for her as deep and lasting as hers for Mark? She hoped not. Then he might find another girl
to give his gentle heart to
.
Perhaps pretty Fiona Graham. He was
already fond of her.

These thoughts
went through her mind as she lay there with
her hand in
Andrew

s, but above all was her anxiety about Mark. She was too concerned about him to worry very deeply about anything else.

As if he knew what she was thinking, Andrew patted her hand and said, “I’ll go and ask Dr. Mastingley to come
and
see you, and if he says you’re all right, he might let you go and see Charlton.” He stood up and, with a little smile, went out of the room.

A moment later Dr. Mastingley hurried in. “This is a very unfortunate beginning to the new year, Nurse, very unfortunate,” he said, taking her wrist. Katherine had forgotten it was New Year’s Day. It must be less than an hour since they had all happily looked forward to a good year when their ambitions
would
be realized. Dr. Mastingley hoped for success in his research into sleeping sickness; Mark hoped to see a fine new hospital; but now there was no hospital at all. It was burned down. How? The strong smell of kerosene came back to her. Why had there been kerosene in the empty building? Oil for the lamps was kept in the wash house, quite separate from the main building.

“You’ll be fine, after a good rest, Nurse,” said Dr. Mastingley. “A little shocked, so take it easy for a day or two.”

“How is Dr. Charlton?” she asked, trying not to look too anxious.

“He’s still unconscious,” was the reply, “He had a nasty crack on the head. One of the roof supports must have fallen on him—there wasn’t time to investigate. He’ll come around soon I think though, and not be much the worse.”

“May I go and see him—just for a minute, please, Doctor?”

Dr. Mastingley looked rather surprised at her request. “You ought to get straight to bed and have a good sleep. It’s one o’clock, you know,” he told her; but seeing the plea in her eyes he relented. “Very well. Go and see him. If you feel quite well you might sit with him till I can get back, in case he recovers consciousness. I have to go and see Miss Kennedy now.”

“Miss Kennedy? Is she ill?” asked Katherine, sitting up and putting her feet over the side of the bed. She discovered she had no shoes on. She must have lost them when she tripped in the long grass running to the hospital.

Dr. Mastingley did not reply at once, and looking up at him, she saw that he was extremely uncomfortable.

“She’s not ill exactly,” he said eventually, “that is, not physically
. I ... er ...

He seemed not to be able to make up his mind what to say, then he went on quickly. “Nurse Marlowe, this is very difficult, but I think it will be best if I tell you everything. We don’t want to cause Kennedy any more pain than we must.”

“Andrew? Why—What do you mean?”

“The hospital catching fire was not an accident.”

“Not an accident,” she repeated. “I had begun to wonder how it could have happened.”

“Yes. I thought you might. That’s why I’m telling you this—so that you can avoid saying anything that will make it harder for Kennedy. For his sake we must keep up the fiction that it was accidental.”

“You mean it was
Miss Kennedy...?
” she faltered.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I was suspicious from the start about the cause of the fire. There was the strong smell of kerosene, and I knew there should have been none in the building; and then I remembered how Miss Kennedy had disappeared from the party without saying a word. So when we got Charlton into bed and Kennedy came to look for you, I went along to Miss Kennedy’s room. She was there on her bed weeping hysterically. The front of her dress was soaked in kerosene.”

“But why did she do it?” asked Katherine, baffled.

“I think it’s the culmination of something that’s been building up in her for the past year. I’ve only been here a few months myself and I’ve been very much wrapped up in my own work but, even so, I couldn’t help being aware of the strained atmosphere whenever Miss Kennedy was around.”

“I know she didn’t want us here. She made that clear from the start, but to do this ... she’s making the people that live here suffer as well as us,” said Katherine unhappily.

“I’m not a psychiatrist, but as far as I can make it out she made a sacrifice in coming here with her brother. She thought he should repay her by his exclusive affection. She’s a possessive woman, and when her brother fell in love with you and became engaged to you, her resentment grew until tonight she became unbalanced for a time.”

Katherine shuddered. “How awful. Poor Miss Kennedy. I didn’t think she hated us so much.”

“Try not to worry too much about it, Nurse. I know you won’t judge her too harshly. This climate can make things more difficult to cope with than they would be in Britain.”

“But why did she do this, Doctor? Why set fire to the, hospital? What good did she think it
w
ould do her?”

“As I said, she was unbalanced when she did it; it was done on a mad impulse. She probably hoped you and Charlton would be so discouraged you would pack up and go.”

“You don’t think he will—Dr. Charlton I mean—you don’t think he will give up?”

“Not he! No, he’ll be starting on a new hospital the minute he’s out of bed, you’ll see. Now, remember to pretend you believe the fire was an accident when you talk to Kennedy. I’ve had a few words with him, and he’s going to arrange for a missionary couple from one of the stations in the district to take his place here. Then he’ll be able to take his sister home for a long holiday
and...” He
hesitated, looking at Katherine, his eyes behind the thick glasses full of understanding. “It will do them both good.” He turned at the door. “Don’t forget what I said about the ‘accident.’ ”

“I won’t forget,” Katherine assured him. “Now I’ll go and sit with Dr. Charlton.”

Standing up, she remembered that she had no shoes on. Her white working shoes were under the chair, so she pushed her feet into them and went to Mark’s room. She paused inside the door. He was lying very still on his back, his head bandaged. She listened. His breathing was fast and regular. There was a chair beside the bed and she went quickly over and sat down. His face was pale despite the suntan.

Timidly she put her fingers on his wrist. The pulse was rapid. She wondered fearfully if he was more seriously hurt than Dr. Mastingley thought. A head injury could be dangerous, and it was not easy to tell at first how bad it was. But she would not think of such things. He was going to be all right; he must, he must.

How moving it was to see this big strong man lying there so helpless. She felt a rush of love for him and longed to kneel beside the bed and kiss his pale lips. Dare she? He would never know. She must just feel his lips under hers once. It was her only chance. Slowly she got down to her knees and leaned toward him. She was trembling. Then his eyelids flickered, and she started back like a frightened bird.

Sitting on her chair again, she tried to compose herself. He was beginning to regain consciousness. His lips were moving, and he was making little moaning sounds.

“Oh, my head!” he groaned, putting a hand up to his forehead. When it touched the bandage, he muttered, “What’s this?” and his eyes opened. Gradually they focussed on Katherine’s face.

“Hullo, Nurse. No it’s Katherine now, isn’t it? You still got your party dress on.”

She looked down at her dress. Her lovely pink silk dress; it was ruined! There was a patch of green where she had fallen on her knees in the grass, and a tear in the skirt. But it didn’t matter. He had called her Katherine.


What’s been happening?” he asked muzzily.

“You had an accident. A beam fell on your head and knocked you out, but don’t think about it now. You’ll be better soon,” she soothed.

“But why did a beam fall on my head?” he persisted. “We were having a party—a New Year’s party—and I went outside to wait
for midnight and then—Oh, God!” As the memory came back to him, his face contracted with pain. “The hospital—it was a mass of flames. I ran across to try to get the drugs out but—”

“The drugs are safe, don’t worry about that.”

“Safe? How’s that? I didn’t get them away before I passed out, did I?”

“No. You were in the doorway when the roof support fell on you. I managed to put the cupboard out of the window onto the porch and Andrew carried it over to the laboratory.”

“That was very brave of you. You weren’t hurt?” He looked at her anxiously. “The place looked ready to collapse when I went in. You’re sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, quite all right. How do you feel now? Is your head painful? Shall I get Dr. Mastingley?”

“No. It’s not too bad. I suppose the hospital’s a total wreck?”

“I’m afraid so,” Katherine admitted reluctantly, hoping he would not ask too many questions abou
t
how the fire had started. But he did not seem to be concerned about that. He turned his head away with a groan. “What’s the use of trying? All our work undone in a few minutes and now we’re right back where we started, having to build a new hospital and equip it. No, I can’t do it. This has finished me.”

Her heart ached for him as she searched for words of comfort. “Don’t say that, please, Doctor. You can’t give up. This hasn’t undone all our work. Our work is in the patients we’ve cured, not in the building, and after all, it wasn’t a very good building, was it? You said it was only a makeshift until you could get the money for a proper one. Well, perhaps now the Society will give you the money and you will have a new hospital soon. Then this will have been a blessing in disguise.”

As she talked, desperately trying to say something that would make the despair leave his eyes, she saw that his eyes were watching her face closely. Gradually the misery gave way to something else—admiration, almost wonder. Suddenly shyness overcame her and she faltered, “I—I sound like Pollyanna.”

“Pollyanna?”

“You know, there’s a series of books about her—she was an awful child who could always see the bright side of things no matter how black they looked.” Katherine gave this explanation, staring at her shoes. White canvas shoes! What a mess she must look! White-laced shoes—well, they weren’t even laced now—and a dirty, pink dress. She could only guess the state her hair was in.

“I know what you mean,” Mark was saying, “a permanent ray of sunshine. Nothing is more depressing. But you aren’t one of those. I think I told you earlier this evening how I appreciate your qualities as a nurse. I’m still a bit muzzy but I remember that. Now I know you’re not only a very good nurse—you’re a brave sweet girl.” He put out his hand and took hers, holding it tightly.

Katherine raised her eyes to his face. He was smiling a little, his blue eyes warm and tender. The events of the last hour seemed to have melted all his reserve. “Kennedy is a lucky fellow,” he said quietly.

Katherine took a deep breath and decided not to let this moment slip through her fingers.

“Andrew and I are not going to be married,” she said, holding her breath.

“You’re not? This must have happened very recently. I’m so sorry. What went wrong? Or don’t you want to talk about it?” he asked kindly.

“I’d like to if you don’t mind. I’m sorry too, because I’ve hurt Andrew and I’m fond of him but I should not have said I would marry him because—” she hesitated, and then rushed on “—because I’m in love with someone else and he found out about it tonight.”

“Tonight? In the middle of all this fuss?” he asked and then added slowly, “That must mean it’s someone here in Ngombe. And there’s only Dr. Mastingley and ... and myself.” His eyes held hers, and a gleam came into them as he said very softly, “Katherine, my dear.”

She could hardly believe it was really happening. She had dreamed of such a moment for so long. Was she dreaming now? Or did wonderful things sometimes happen to ordinary girls like her?

Mark raised himself from his pillow, and she said anxiously, “No. You must lie still. Please.” She put her hands on his shoulders and tried to ease him back. “Dr. Mastingley will be angry if I let you—”

“Damn Dr. Mastingley. How can I put my arms around you and kiss you if I can’t sit up?”

“Well
... if I kneel beside the bed—like this—and put my hand under your head, and if I lean over, I think you could perhaps ... manage?”

He did manage, very well.

A little later, his arms still tightly around her, he whispered, “You were right about this awful business being a blessing in disguise, darling Pollyanna. We might never have known we were in love if the hospital had not caught fire, might we?” He turned his head to kiss her throat and cheek and, as his lips found hers again, Katherine thought fleetingly of the long, lonely months when she had yearned for the smallest sign of friendship from him; of her joy when they seemed to be drawing closer; her despair when she realized they were as far apart as ever. But that was all over now. Perhaps she would tell him about it one day, but not tonight.

At last she could say aloud the words she had said so often in her heart. “Darling Mark, I love you so much.” Just now, that was all she wanted to say.

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