A Match for Sister Maggy (5 page)

He smiled briefly and said, ‘I'm early, I believe, Sister. I hope it is not inconvenient?' He sounded brisk and rather aloof. Just as though, thought Maggy, he had never seen red roses in his life. Well, she could be brisk too.

‘No, sir, it's not inconvenient. Mevrouw Doelsma is quite ready to see you.'

She smiled at her patient and slipped through the door, determined to be very busy in the ward for the rest of the day; there were only a couple of hours to go before the night staff came on. She did the medicine round, and was
writing her report at her desk when the doctor knocked and came in.

He spoke without preamble. ‘Will you spare me five minutes of your time—there is something I want to ask you.' He pulled up a chair and sat down and smiled at her to make her heart turn over.

‘Mother will be going home to Friesland in ten days or so.' He paused. ‘Maggy, I'm not giving you much time to make up your mind about this—I want you to come too.' His voice was urgent.

Maggy, sitting very upright with her hands folded on her apron, kept her eyes on the desk. She was deafened by the thudding of her heart; her mind a jumble of thoughts and dreams. Before she had time to reply he went on,

‘It will be just for a few weeks; you're an excellent nurse, and my mother is fond of you. I can trust her to your care, I know. I must confess that we thought of this some time ago, but I was doubtful if you would come.'

He sat back, looking at her smilingly. Maggy smiled back, pride keeping her mouth steady and her eyes dry. There would be plenty of time later on to call herself the silly romantic fool she undoubtedly was. She thought fleetingly of the red roses—all part of the softening process perhaps, deliberately planned so that she would fall in with his suggestion? When she spoke, her voice was quite steady.

‘I'm flattered by your good opinion of me, sir, but I think that Matron will not allow it.'

He said with a trace of arrogance, ‘I saw Matron some time ago about this. We—that is, Sir Charles and I—managed to persuade her to agree to you going. Provided you have no objection.' He looked at her sharply. ‘But you haven't, of course.' Again the touch of arrogance.

She gave him a level glance. ‘Dr Doelsma, I ken fine
that there's many a good nurse here in this hospital, better than I, who would nurse your mother devotedly.'

He looked at her in amazement. ‘Are you refusing, Maggy?'

‘Aye, sir, I'm refusing.'

He said in a kind of wonder, ‘Do you not like us?'

It was her turn to look amazed. ‘Gracious goodness, Doctor, I like you fine—the both of you.'

‘So it is personal reasons which make you refuse?'

She considered a minute. ‘Yes, I suppose you might say that.'

He said sharply, ‘Selfish reasons?'

Maggy sat quite still, looking at the frowning face, then got up slowly. ‘Ye've no right to speak to me like that, sir. Now if ye'll excuse me, I'll away to my supper.'

Without a word he stood up, opened the door for her, and stood watching while she spoke to Nurse Sims and then went downstairs.

Her gay and animated manner at supper caused her friends to look askance. Maggy, for all her size, perhaps because of it, was known to be rather shy and retiring. Those who knew her well realised that she was in a dreadful temper. She did indeed go back to the ward with little sparks of rage in her eyes, and pink cheeks; most of the rage was against herself. She opened her office door and stood staring. The little room seemed full of people— Sir Charles Warren, Matron and Dr Doelsma. She looked at him down her beautiful nose and then turned her back, waiting for someone to speak.

Matron began: ‘Er—Sister MacFergus, we won't keep you from your work, but I am sure that this little matter can be cleared up in a few moments. I am certain that your reasons for not going to Holland are given from the highest
of motives, but I can assure you that you need have no qualms about leaving the ward. It is unusual, I admit, for a Ward Sister to take over a private case; but Sir Charles wishes it, and it can be arranged quite simply.' She inflated her bosom and nodded briskly, signifying that it was now Maggy's turn to speak.

They were all three looking at her, Matron with the certain air of a woman who had stated her case and expected no argument. Sir Charles with a shrewd twinkle, and Dr Doelsma with a smile. How dared he? Maggy gave him a baleful stare and turned a shoulder to him again.

‘I should be glad if you would take on Mevrouw Doelsma, Maggy.' It was Sir Charles, at his most wheedling. ‘She is a lifelong friend of mine; I want her to have the best attention there is, and I consider you are the one to give it. As a personal favour, Maggy.'

She liked and admired Sir Charles; she could not refuse him. He was also senior consultant of the hospital, and she a Ward Sister, there to do her work under his guidance and carry out his orders.

‘If you wish it, Sir Charles, I'll be glad to go with Mevrouw Doelsma.'

He beamed at her. ‘Splendid! I'm sure that Matron will see you later and fix up all the details. I think you should go in about ten days' time, don't you. Paul?'

Maggy didn't look round when Dr Doelsma answered, nor when he said,

‘May I have a few words with Sister, Matron? I promise I won't keep her for more than a minute.'

He ushered her and Sir Charles out of the little room and stood in the open doorway, contemplating Maggy's very straight back.

‘You needn't be afraid,' he said blandly. ‘I've left the door open this time.'

This remark had the effect of making her turn round to face him. She said with great hauteur and a rising colour,

‘I do not wish to be reminded of that regrettable incident.'

He was instantly contrite. ‘I'm sorry, indeed I am; not because I kissed you, but because I've made you angry. Forgive me, and for taking such shameful advantage of you just now. It was unfair, I know. But I want you to nurse Mother. I should have warned you that I like my own way, and go to any lengths to get it.' He waited a moment, but she did not speak. ‘My mother is normally a bright and happy woman, but now she had been badly frightened. She hides her fear, but only when you or I are with her does she lose it. She is a sensible woman; in time she will overcome it, and forget. Until then, she needs help. She likes you, Maggy, and trusts you—as I do. Thank you for consenting to come.'

Maggy was still looking out of the window, facing a fact which could no longer be ignored. She was hopelessly in love with Dr Doelsma; and while her good sense counselled her to take the prudent action to withdrawing her consent and never seeing him again, the delightful prospect of being with him, perhaps frequently, for the next few weeks was impossible to ignore. Before she could change her mind, she turned round and said quietly,

‘I'll be glad to go with your mother, Dr Doelsma, and stay with her until she is well again.'

He had been looking rather stern; now his whole face lighted up.

‘You can't know how pleased I am that you will be at Oudehof with my mother. Come and tell her yourself, won't you?'

She was glad of her decision when she saw Mevrouw Doelsma, who took her hand and said, ‘I'll never be able to thank you, my dear. I thought perhaps you wouldn't want to come—it will a dull life for you after the rush and bustle here.'

Maggy assured her that that was just what she would like, and went away to give the report to the night nurse. Before she went off duty she told a bewildered junior nurse to take all the roses from the office and carry them to the geriatric ward, and waited until the little room was once more bare. In her room, she took the remaining flowers over to the front lodge to George, whose wife was ill. She wasn't to know that Dr Doelsma would see them on his way out, and such were her feelings that she wouldn't have cared.

She cried slow bitter tears for a long time before she went to sleep that night.

M
AGGY SENSED
that there was something amiss as soon as she got to her office the next morning. The night nurse looked nervous, even Williams looked worried. Maggy sat down at her desk. ‘I'll have the report first, Nurse, shall I? Then you can tell me what's gone wrong.' She gave her an encouraging smile and opened the book. The report duly given and commented upon, the bad news came tumbling out. Madame Riveau had gone. It had happened during the busy period between six and seven, when the nurses were fully occupied with teas, bedpans, washing patients, giving medicines, changing beds… Madame Riveau had got up and dressed, unseen, what with screens being pulled and patients who were well enough walking up and down the ward to the bathroom. The first the nurses had known of it was the commotion caused by the two Riveau men, who, it seemed, had come into the ward via the fire escape. They had walked off with Madame Riveau before anything could be done. By the time the nurse had rung through to the porter, they had already gone, using the Casualty entrance. The nurse there, busy herself, had thought they were relatives who had spent the night with one of the ill patients.

‘I'll have to let the Office know, and Matron,' said
Maggy. ‘Write a statement, Nurse, and I'll sign it too, and take it along to Matron. It was no fault of yours. She's been a difficult patient and her husband has been wanting her home for a long time now. She was due out tomorrow morning anyway.' She sighed with relief at the thought that she would not have to meet those awful men again.

The days slipped by. Matron had told her that she would probably be in Holland for four weeks, perhaps a little longer; a relief Sister would run the ward until her return. Maggy wrote to her parents in Scotland, got herself a passport and looked through her clothes, openly envied by every nurse in the hospital.

It was arranged that they should travel on a morning plane. An ambulance took Mevrouw Doelsma and Maggy, very neat in her uniform and little cape, to the airport, where they were met by Sir Charles who had elected to see them off. Maggy had been surprised to see Dr Doelsma waiting with him when they arrived, but beyond a brief good morning he said nothing, but went away to see to the luggage. She had not anticipated that he would be travelling with them, indeed she had not known that he was in England. There was, she admitted to herself, no reason why he should have informed her of his plans. She spent the next ten minutes or so installing her patient and herself on the KLM plane. In this she had the good offices of the stewardess and between them Mevrouw Doelsma was made comfortable, reassured and generally made much of. Maggy was surprised to find Sir Charles at her elbow; in answer to her enquiring look, he said,

‘No. I'm not coming with you—but Paul will be. I was allowed to make sure that everything was all right before take-off.' He stayed a few minutes, and then took his leave, saying,

‘You'll do, Henrietta. I'll be over to see you as soon as
I can spare time for a holiday. Have a good trip—you too, Maggy, and I hope you enjoy your stay in Friesland.' He waved cheerfully from the door.

Mevrouw Doelsma watched Maggy fixing the portable oxygen cylinder so that it could be got at quickly and easily if it was wanted. She caught her eye and smiled and said,

‘What a nuisance I'm being to everyone.' The smile flickered and went out. Her voice faltered. ‘I hope you don't have to use it, Maggy.'

‘Och, no,' Maggy said comfortably. ‘It's like taking an umbrella with you to keep off the rain.'

Her patient giggled, and Paul, who had just entered the plane, decided that Maggy was indeed a blessing, with her calm efficient ways and her soothing Highland voice. He stowed away his medical bag and took the seat by his mother, leaving the window seat for Maggy. Having adjusted their seat belts, he talked gently about nothing in particular until they were airborne, when he opened
The Times
and a Dutch magazine called
Elsevier,
and became immersed in reading them. However, from time to time his eye strayed to Maggy, guarding her patient like a hawk, but finding time to glance out of the porthole with wide eyes.

‘Have you not flown before, Sister?' he asked casually.

She looked across at him, her eyes alight with excitement.

‘No, never. I've never left England before.' As she said it she realised how amusing she must be to the much-travelled doctor. She looked at him again to see if he was laughing at her, but he wasn't.

‘We must make certain that you see as much of Holland as possible before you go back home.'

He became immersed in his papers again, but presently, when his mother went to sleep, he folded them carefully and crossed over to the seat beside Maggy. The coast of Holland
was visible; he leant across her, and started to point out landmarks. Their heads were very close together. Maggy kept her gaze on the view below her, not hearing a word of what he was saying, but thinking of the weeks ahead.

The plane touched down at Schiphol, and with a minimum of delay and a maximum of efficiency Madame Doelsma was transferred to a small smart ambulance with rakish lines. Maggy was too occupied with her patient to do more than give a hasty look round. There was no sign of the doctor; she supposed he was seeing about their luggage. The white-coated ambulance driver prepared to shut them in, and said something to Maggy, who looked blank. Madame Doelsma murmured something and he laughed and looked at Maggy and nodded and gave the thumbs-up sign, the friendly little gesture warmed her heart.

As soon as the door was shut, she began a systematic search of the ambulance, so that she would be familiar with the equipment if she should need it. When she had made a thorough inspection she sat herself down on the collapsible seat by her patient. It was a very small seat; she wriggled experimentally, reflecting on the long journey ahead of them, Mevrouw Doelsma was lying with her eyes closed, so Maggy allowed her attention to wander out of the window in the door of the ambulance. Drawn up within a few yards of their own vehicle was an ink-blue Rolls-Royce convertible. Dr Doelsma, hands in pockets, was leaning against its well-bred bonnet, talking to an elderly man by the boot, who was supervising the stowing away of the luggage. When this had been done to his entire satisfaction, the elderly man tipped the porter and went round to the doctor. Maggy watched with interest while they carried on another short conversation, at the end of which the elderly man sketched a vague salute and disappeared round the
corner of the airport building, while the doctor strolled over to the ambulance and opened the door. He nodded briefly at Maggy, and addressed himself to his mother, who had opened her eyes at the sound of the door opening.

‘Another hour or two, and we'll be home, dear. Pratt sends his regards; he and Mrs Pratt hope to see you soon.' He transferred his gaze to Maggy, who looked tranquilly back at him. ‘It's roughly a hundred and forty miles.' he said. ‘The ambulance will take about four hours to do the journey. I believe there is everything you require here; there's a flask of coffee…' He stopped as she nodded. ‘Of course, you would have discovered that for yourself. I'll travel behind you. If you want anything, anything at all, wave through the back window.' He added dryly. ‘Wave to me first, won't you, before you ask the driver to stop, otherwise I might run into you.'

Maggy nodded meekly, hiding a slight scorn. Presumably he thought that, outside nursing, she was a fool.

‘What word do I use to stop the driver?' she asked sensibly.

He smiled. ‘Stop. It's the same word; but in any case I've warned him to pull up if you appear worried.' He looked her up and down, and said with some amusement,

‘The seat is too small for you, isn't it? I'm afraid they don't cater for Amazons. Shall I find you a cushion?'

His solicitude met with a cold reception. She drew her black brows together and said tartly,

‘I thank you, no, sir. I'm well able to look after myself.'

His eyes widened with laughter. ‘But of course, Sister, I apologise if I implied otherwise.'

She felt her cheeks redden as he turned away to speak to his mother before shutting the door and going back to his car.

The journey seemed endless. Mevrouw Doelsma possessed herself of one of Maggy's hands, sighed contentedly
and went to sleep. Maggy looked out of the window, trying to see the names of the towns and villages which they went through—not always successfully. The Rolls kept at a discreet distance behind them, and she felt a pang of sympathy for the doctor compelled as he was to travel at such a moderate speed.

The country was charming—bright with autumn colours, flat as a plate and incredibly tidy. As they slowed down through the towns she was able to glimpse the small gabled houses, living proofs of a long-dead age, and seemingly too diminutive to house a normal family; whereas the churches were so vast that she could only assume that they stood forlorn and half empty each Sunday.

It had been explained to her that they would be taking the eastern road to Oudehof. Maggy had looked up the route carefully beforehand, but as much of it led along the main motorways, which skirted the towns, her carefully acquired knowledge was not of much use to her. However, after a little time they entered country reminiscent of the New Forest and she at last knew where she was. The
Veluwe
—the road was bordered by charming thatched houses, quite small, but modern and enclosed in large gardens so perfect that she guessed that they must be occupied by the wealthy. The road widened again, and they emerged into rolling meadowlands with tantalising glimpses of small towns. She looked at her watch—there was, she reckoned, less than an hour of the journey to go. Mevrouw Doelsma woke up and asked where they were, and shortly after Maggy caught sight of a fast disappearing signpost.

‘Heerenveen,' said Maggy. ‘That's not far from Oudehof, is it?'

‘No, we're nearly home, Maggy. We turn off on the
road to Balk; Oudehof is a mile or two this side of the village.' She smiled faintly. ‘You know, dear, I thought, once or twice in the hospital, that I should never see Oudehof again. I do hope you are going to be happy there—it is very quiet, and you are so young and pretty, you should be having fun.'

Maggy laughed rather wistfully. ‘Dinna worry, Mevrouw Doelsma, I'll not miss what I seldom had.'

Her patient raised her eyebrows. ‘But, Maggy… I've not liked to ask you before, but surely you must have boyfriends, or one special one?'

Maggy chuckled. ‘Nay, where will I find a wee man to top my size?' Her gaze fell on the sleek car loitering behind the ambulance and she looked away quickly with pink cheeks. ‘I'll be very happy, Mevrouw Doelsma; I've never been in a foreign land, and everything is strange and exciting to me.'

She broke off as the ambulance turned off at right angles from the main road. Her patient became quite animated.

‘Maggy, tell me anything you see, so that I know where we are.'

They travelled several kilometres thus, with Maggy describing windmills, canals, and houses as they passed them, until they turned off the narrow road through a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates and bowled along a semi-circular drive—Maggy could just see its other end sweeping back to the road again via another pair of gates. She twisted round and craned her neck to see through the tiny window behind the driver, and caught her first glimpse of Oudehof. It was red brick, square, and so symmetrical that it appeared to have been cut out of cardboard, and then stuck on to the surrounding countryside. There was an imposing door, approached by double steps, and flanked
by large flat windows—the same windows crossed the face of the house in two neat rows above the door, capped by a steep roof. The house had the air of having been there a long time, and had every intention of remaining just as it was for a comfortable forever.

The ambulance drew up in front of the entrance, and before the driver was out of his seat, the Rolls had slid to a halt a couple of feet behind them, and it was the doctor who opened the door. His eyes went at once to his mother.

‘All right, Mama? I'll carry you up to your room.' He slid the stretcher partly out on its runners, picked her up in his arms, and strode off to the door, where a small group of people had gathered.

Maggy, collecting the odds and ends of their journey, thought how much nicer it would have been if he had at least suggested that she should go with them. She eyed the figures in the doorway, feeling shy. Doubtless Dr Doelsma expected her to follow him. She walked across the broad sweep of the drive towards the door, and as she did so one of the people standing detached himself and came to meet her. He was grey-haired and pleasant-faced, and when he spoke she realised he was English. ‘I'm Pratt, the butler, Sister.' He took her case and her cloak; he didn't smile, but she sensed his friendliness towards her. ‘I'll take you to Madam's rooms, and later on, if you will ring, Mrs Pratt will take you to your room.'

She gave him a grateful glance and followed him into the hall. It was square and rather dim, and the black and white tiled floor gleamed richly underfoot. The walls were panelled and hung with portraits. There were doors leading off on either side, and a broad staircase, elaborately carved, rose from the back of the hall to a half-landing, and then branched off on either side to the floor above. Maggy found
herself gently ushered past the handful of men and women gathered near the door and led upstairs to a broad corridor. He crossed this and knocked on a door decorated with swags of fruit and flowers, delicately carved in the wood. The doctor's voice answered and Pratt opened the door and ushered her in. Mevrouw Doelsma was lying on a fourposter bed; the doctor was in the act of covering her with a rug and looked over his shoulder at Maggy. He spoke rather testily. ‘Why have you been so long?'

Maggy went over to the bed and eyed him coldly across it.