Читать книгу A Girl in a Million - Бетти Нилс - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

CAROLINE saw at once that he wasn’t going to remember her. She hoped that he hadn’t heard her little burst of speech and asked in her most professional voice, ‘Can I help you? Are you looking for someone?’

He looked at her then, but it was impossible to tell if he had recognised her. His handsome face was bland and unsmiling. ‘I’m looking for Mr Spence.’

‘He’s in one of the side-rooms. I think he may be busy. I’m afraid I can’t leave the children to tell him that you want to see him.’

She had wasted her breath for he was striding away down the ward and through the archway to the side-rooms. ‘Oh, my goodness, I shall get eaten alive,’ observed Caroline, a remark which sent Bertie off into a fit of the giggles.

The other nurse had come back presently and they were busy getting the children washed and potted and back into their cots and beds. Caroline was urging the recalcitrant Bertie into his bed when Mr Spence and Mr van Houben came through the ward, walking slowly, deep in talk and followed by Sister and the registrar and two of the housemen. Bertie’s loud, ‘Hey, Doc,’ brought them to a momentary pause, but only long enough to give them time to reply, and that in a rather absent-minded manner. Obviously they had grave matters on their learned minds.

It was Staff Nurse who told her later that the child in the side-room was to be operated on that evening. ‘That’s why Mr van Houben came—he’s a wizard with anaesthetics.’ Caroline, all ears, would have liked to have known more, but Staff was busy and presently she went off duty, to change into outdoor clothes and go with various friends to the local cinema.

The ward was its usual bustling, noisy self when she went on duty in the morning; she helped with the breakfasts and then with the rest of the day staff who could be spared, went to Sister’s office for the report.

It had been a good night in the main ward; duties were meted out in Sister Crump’s fashion, apparently haphazard but adding up to a sensible whole. ‘Little Marc in the side-room—he’ll be specialled of course—usual observations and I’m to be told at once if there’s anything you aren’t too happy about. Nurse Frisby, you will stay with him until you are relieved at noon. Either Staff Nurse or myself will be checking at regular intervals. The operation was successful—a craniotomy and decompression of the vault—but there is some diffuse neuronal damage and the added complication of a punctured lung. The child is gravely ill but we’ll pull him through. There is oedema and some haemorrhaging so be especially on the look out for coning.’ She added briskly, ‘Back to work, Nurses.’

Staff Nurse went with Caroline, who was relieved to see that there wasn’t anything complicated she couldn’t understand. The various scans, machines, tubes and charts she had already worked with on Women’s Surgical. It was a sharp eye and common sense that was needed, said Staff encouragingly. The child was in a deep coma; all Caroline had to do was to check pulse, breathing and temperature at the time stated on the chart, note any change and let her or Sister know at once. ‘Just keep your hand on the panic bell,’ she was advised, ‘and keep your head.’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’s time for observations, so I’ll leave you to get on with it.’ She cast an eye over the small boy in the bed, his head swathed in bandages, his person attached to various tubes. ‘Someone will bring you some coffee,’ she added kindly as she went.

Caroline did everything that was necessary, examined the little white face anxiously and took the chair by the bed. The nurse she had relieved had written ‘No change’ on the chart and with one eye on the child she read the notes on his board. Mr Spence had written a great deal and it took her some time to decipher his writing. Mr van Houben had written a whole lot too. It took her even longer to read, since his writing was so illegible that it could have been in Greek or Sanskrit.

She had just finished her second round of observations when Mr Spence and Mr van Houben came in. They both wished her good morning as she got to her feet and handed over the chart. As she did so, she realised something which she had known subconsciously when she had first studied the chart. Marc’s surname was van Houben. Mr van Houben’s son? If it were so, where was his mother? She had her answer quicker than she had expected.

‘Marc’s mother will be here shortly,’ said Mr van Houben. ‘She will stay only briefly—remain with Marc while she is here. She is likely to be upset.’ He smiled briefly from a grim face and turned to Mr Spence. ‘Would it be a good idea if…?’ He launched into technicalities and Caroline sat down again to keep watch. They thanked her as they went away. It invariably surprised her that the senior men were always civil—with the exception of Mr Wilkins—whereas some of the housemen tended to throw their weight around, wanting this and that and the other thing on the wards, leaving messes to be cleared up.

She was relieved at noon and there was no sign of Marc’s mother. She was sent to first dinner and over the cottage pie and spring cabbage she regaled her friends at the table with her morning’s work.

‘At least it gave your feet a rest,’ said someone.

‘Yes, but I was so afraid something awful might happen—he’s been unconscious ever since he hurt himself and the operation took hours.’

She bolted rhubarb and custard, drank a cup of tea far too hot and went back on the ward. It was time for the children to have their afternoon rest. Sister had gone to lunch, taking all but the nurse specialling Marc with her, leaving Staff and Caroline to the task of seeing to the children who were up and enticing them into their beds and then going around making comfortable those who were bedridden.

‘Marc’s mother came,’ said Staff. ‘Mr van Houben came with her, of course.’

Caroline said, ‘She must be terribly upset.’

‘She was—she’s expecting a baby in a week’s time. She came over from Holland. She’s beautiful—you know—fair hair and blue eyes and the most gorgeous clothes.’

Caroline didn’t want to hear about her—of course she would be beautiful, Mr van Houben wouldn’t have married a girl less than perfection. ‘Is Marc the only one? Other than the baby?’

She lifted out a small sleepy toddler while Staff put in a clean sheet.

‘Yes. Mr Spence seems to think that Marc will live but the thing is if he’s going to come out of this coma. He may have to operate again.’

‘Oh, the poor little boy.’ She kissed the top of the baby’s head; he had a cleft palate and a hare lip but Mr Spence would see to those in a day or two. She put him gently back into his cot and tucked him in.

Staff said, ‘You like kids, don’t you?’

Caroline was at the next cot, changing a nappy. ‘Yes.’

Staff was feeling chatty. ‘Sister says you’re a natural—I dare say you’ll end up with a ward full of children and make it your life’s work.’

‘Yes,’ said Caroline again. She did like children, but she would prefer to have her own; vague thoughts of a charming house in the country with dogs and cats and a donkey and, of course, children filled her mind. She would need a husband, of course. Mr van Houben’s rather frosty features swam before her eyes and she said, ‘Oh, dear, that won’t do at all,’ so that Staff looked at her and observed kindly,

‘Well, there’s always the chance that you’ll marry.’

She was to special little Marc each morning for the foreseeable future. Sister rambled on rather about his subconscious getting used to the same person by his bedside, so that the three of them shared the twenty-four hours between them. It was towards the end of her eight-hour stint that Mr van Houben came again, and this time with Marc’s mother.

Staff hadn’t exaggerated. Marc’s mother was lovely despite the fact that she was desperately worried and pale with anxiety. She stood by the little bed, staring down at the small face, and Mr van Houben put an arm round her shoulders.

Mr Spence came in then and the two men conferred quietly and Caroline said, ‘Sit down for a minute and hold his hand…’

His mother lifted unhappy blue eyes to hers. ‘He does not know?’

‘Well, we don’t know, do we?! I hold it all the time unless I’m doing things for him.’

His mother smiled then. ‘You’re very nice,’ she said, and they sat silently until the men had finished their talk, checked the charts and the three of them had gone away. Caroline sat down again and picked up the limp little paw and held it firmly. It was a way of communication—that was, if communication was possible.

Several days went by and each morning Mr van Houben and Marc’s mother came to see him until one morning Mr van Houben arrived early by himself. His, ‘Good morning, Nurse,’ was curt and he looked as if he had been up all night. If she had known him better she would have told him to go home to bed.

‘Well, Marc has a little sister.’ He stared down at the inert little figure in the bed and Caroline said, ‘Oh, you must be delighted. Congratulations, sir.’

He turned his head to look at her. He looked as though he was going to speak but he only smiled slightly, made sure that Marc’s condition was unchanged and went away. He came back with Mr Spence just as she had handed over to her relief, but since there was no reason for her to remain she went away to eat a late lunch in the empty canteen. The boiled cod and white sauce, boiled potatoes and carrots, edible in company and when freshly cooked, had rather lost their appeal. She ate the apple crumble which followed, coaxed a pot of tea from the impatient girl behind the counter and then went to her room and changed into outdoor things—she was off duty until five o’clock and a brisk walk would do her good. She took a bus to Victoria Park and marched along its paths, in no mood to admire the first of the spring flowers braving the chilly day. She had no idea why she was feeling so edgy; perhaps she was hungry or just a little homesick for Aunt Meg’s cosy little house—or was she just anxious about Marc, who was making no progress at all. Walking back presently to catch her bus back to the hospital, she admitted to herself that it wasn’t any of these things—it was Mr van Houben’s smile when she had congratulated him. It had been faintly mocking, slightly amused, as though she had made a bad joke. Sitting squashed between two stout women with bulging shopping bags, Caroline told herself to stop thinking about him, that there was no point in doing so, and when presently, as she was crossing the forecourt to the hospital entrance, he went past her, on his way to the consultant’s car park, she glared at him so ferociously that he paused and turned to look at her small person; even from the back she looked cross.

When she went back on duty it was to be told that it was intended to operate on Marc again. ‘Seven o’clock, Nurse,’ said Sister Crump. ‘You’ll probably have to stay on duty; Mr Spence wants two of you specialling for the first twelve hours. You’ll stay until a second nurse can come on around midnight. That’ll be Staff or myself.’

She nodded, her cap slightly askew. ‘You and Nurse Foster get Marc ready for Theatre—she’s off duty at six o’clock, and you’ll take him to Theatre. Understood?’ She smiled at Caroline. ‘Run along. We’ll have to fit in your supper somewhere, but at the moment I don’t know when.’

Marc would be wheeled to Theatre on his little bed; they did everything needed, checked the equipment, did their observations, and when Nurse Foster went off duty Caroline sat down to wait, holding Marc’s small hand in hers. She liked Theatre work, although she didn’t know much about it; she had done a short stint during her first year but it hadn’t been enough for her to learn much beyond the care of instruments, the filling of bowls and the conveying of nameless objects in kidney dishes to and from the path lab. She hoped now that she wouldn’t have to go into Theatre; she had grown attached to the silent small boy, away in some remote world of his own, and the thought of Mr Spence standing with scalpel at the ready made her feel a little sick.

Mr van Houben was in the anaesthetic room, somehow managing to look distinguished in his Theatre kit—a loose pale blue smock and trousers topped by a cap which would have done very nicely to have covered a steamed pudding. He was joined by Mr Spence and then by his registrar and all three men held a muttered conversation while Caroline stood patiently by the bed, admiring the back of Mr van Houben’s head, never mind the cap.

It was a disappointment to her that presently one of the staff nurses from Theatre took her place and she was dismissed with a laconic, ‘Thanks, Nurse.’

She went back to the ward and made up the bed and checked the equipment and was then sent to her supper. ‘They’ll send down one of the ITC nurses,’ Sister Crump told her, ‘but you’d better be there to fetch and carry.’

The day staff were going off duty when Caroline went back; the children were sleeping as Sister Crump did a round with the night nurses, and paused to speak to Caroline as she went. ‘I’ll be back presently,’ she told her.

It was after ten o’clock when Marc came back to his little room. Once he was again in his own bed, it was just a question of his being linked up with the apparatus around him and a careful check made as to his condition. Sister Crump had appeared silently to see things for herself and presently Mr Spence and Mr van Houben came in. The little room was full of people, and Caroline, feeling unnecessary, tucked herself away in a corner. Sister Crump caught her eye presently. ‘Go off duty, Nurse,’ she said briskly. ‘Come on at ten o’clock tomorrow.’

Caroline went, feeling anxious about little Marc and rather put out since her off duty had been changed—and she had agreed to go to the pictures on the following evening with Janey and several other of her friends.

She yawned her way into a bath and, despite her concern for the little boy, went to sleep at once.

Marc was still there when she went on duty in the morning; she had been half afraid that he wouldn’t have survived the night but there he lay, looking just as before, with Mr van Houben checking the tangle of tubes around the bed, calculating the drip and then taking a sample of blood from the small hand lying so still on the very white coverlet. He turned to look at Caroline as she went in. ‘Ask Sister Crump to come here, will you, Nurse? You’re taking over here?’

‘Yes, sir.’ She sped away to fetch Sister Crump and then con the charts with the nurse she was to relieve. He had looked at her, she thought sadly, as though he had never seen her before.

It was two days later, halfway through the morning, that Marc’s hand, lying in Caroline’s, curled gently over. For a moment she couldn’t believe it and then she wanted to shout for someone to come, press the panic bell, do a dance for joy… Her training took over; she sat quietly and waited and sure enough within a minute or so his hand turned again, a graceful languid movement as though it were returning to life. Which of course it was.

She did press the panic bell then. Sister Crump got there first.

‘He moved his hand in mine—twice,’ said Caroline.

‘The good Lord be thanked,’ said Sister Crump. The two other nurses had arrived. ‘One of you ring Mr Spence or his registrar—one or other is to come at once. The other nurse to go back to the ward.’

The nurses went and Caroline said softly, ‘Look, Sister.’

The small hand was moving again, curling round her thumb.

Mr Spence had just finished his list in Theatre and he still wore his Theatre kit as he came soft-footed to stand by the bed, followed by his registrar.

‘Give your report, Nurse,’ said Sister Crump.

Which Caroline did, trying to keep the quiver of excitement out of her voice. Put into a few sparse words it didn’t sound much, but as she spoke Marc lifted his arm very slightly as though he wanted to make himself more comfortable. ‘Eureka,’ said Mr Spence softly. ‘Someone get hold of Mr van Houben.’

He wasn’t in the hospital, although he had left a phone number where he could be reached. It was two or three hours later by the time he entered the room, looking calm and unflustered, giving no indication that he had been driving hell-for-leather down the M1 from Birmingham where he had gone to give his opinion concerning the anaesthetising of a patient with a collapsed lung and a tracheotomy into the bargain.

It was at that moment that Marc opened his eyes, blinked and closed them again.

‘Too soon to carry out any tests,’ said Mr Spence. ‘Another three or four hours—do you agree?’ When Mr van Houben nodded, he added, ‘We’ll be back around four o’clock, Sister.’ His eye lighted on Caroline, sitting like a small statue, not moving. ‘You are to stay with Marc, Nurse.’

Which made sense; she had seen the very first movements, and she was in a better position to gauge his progress or deterioration than anyone else coming fresh to the scene. All the same, she hoped that someone would bring her a cup of coffee before Mr Spence returned.

They did better than that. A tray of tea and sandwiches was brought and arranged where she could get at it without disturbing the child, and, besides, Sister Crump was in and out every hour or so. Marc hadn’t moved again; Caroline had charted his movements carefully, noting with delight that his temperature had come down a little. Certainly his pulse was steady.

She was stiff and cramped by the time the men came back. Mr Spence said, ‘Good—take over, Sister, will you?’ And watched while Caroline withdrew her hand, only to have it clutched again.

‘You’d better stay; we don’t want him disturbed in any way.’

A silly remark, thought Caroline, watching the gentle poking and prodding, the tickling of the small feet with a pin, the meticulous examination for pupil reaction, for Marc was disturbed, making small fretful movements and wriggling at the touch of a pin. But of course that was what they had hoped for: all the signs of a return to consciousness. The three men and Sister Crump bent over the bed and Caroline sat on a hard chair out of their way. She was happy about little Marc; it was the nicest thing which had happened to her for a long time. Mr van Houben must be over the moon, she reflected, although it was too early to tell if there would be lasting damage to little Marc; he had a long way to go still… Feeling selfish and uncaring, she longed for a cup of tea. At such dramatic moments cups of tea and feeling tired were not to be considered.

Little Marc had fallen asleep again—natural sleep now, not a coma—and the men were still discussing further treatment. It was Sister Crump, her eyes lighting upon Caroline’s small person in a corner, who exclaimed, ‘Go off duty, Nurse, I’m sorry you’re late. You’ve missed your tea—go to the canteen and see if they’ll boil you an egg or let you have your supper early. You missed your lunch?’

Caroline nodded and stood up. The men were writing now, absorbed in their problems. She whispered, ‘Good evening, Sister,’ and slipped out of the room and down the ward and out on to the landing beyond before anyone had a chance to say anything to her. Presumably the nurse to relieve her was already waiting; Sister Crump would be there to brief her. She made her way down to the canteen and found no one there, something she had half expected, for tea had been finished hours ago and first supper wasn’t until seven o’clock. All the same she went up to the counter in case there was someone beyond it in the serving-room.

‘No good your coming in here, Nurse. You know as well as I do that there’s nothing to be had between meals. Supper’s at the usual time; you’ll just have to wait.’

So calmly Caroline went away again, back up the stairs to the ground floor; she would make a pot of tea and take off her shoes and sit and drink it and then, tired though she was, get into a coat and go for a brisk walk. The streets round the hospital were shabby and houses down at heel, but it had been a grey April day and dusk cast a kindly mantle over them. She didn’t much care for a walk in such surroundings, but fresh air and exercise seemed more important than any other consideration.

She started along the corridor which ran at the back of the entrance hall and then stopped with a small gasp when she was tapped on the shoulder.

Mr van Houben, unhurried and as always, immaculate, was at her side. ‘When did you go on duty, Nurse?’

‘Ten o’clock, sir.’

‘You have had no off duty?’

‘I’m off now,’ she told him and added, ‘sir’ as she started off again.

‘Not so fast. Did I hear Sister Crump say that you have had no proper meal today?’

‘I have had sandwiches and coffee…’ She stopped to think—it seemed a long time ago.

‘Yes, yes—I said a meal.’

‘I shall go to supper presently.’

‘You deserve better than that. I’m hungry too; we’ll go and find somewhere to eat.’

‘We’ll what?’ She goggled at the sight of him, her mouth open like a surprised child. ‘But you can’t do that…’

‘Why not?’ he asked coolly. ‘I am not aware that I am restricted in my actions by anyone or anything.’

‘Well, no, of course you’re not. I mean, you don’t have to bother, do you? But it really wouldn’t do, you know. Important people like you don’t take junior nurses out to dinner.’

‘You are mistaken, we aren’t going to dinner. Go and put on a coat and some powder on your nose and we will go to the Bristling Dog down the street and eat sausages out of a basket.’

He didn’t wait for her reply. ‘And comb your hair,’ he advised her kindly as he gave her a gentle shove in the direction of the door to the nurses’ home. He added, ‘If you aren’t back here within ten minutes I shall come and find you.’

‘You can’t…’ He must be light-headed with hunger, she decided, or in a state of euphoria because Marc had shown the first tentative signs of recovery.

He said coldly, ‘Can I not?’ and gave her a steely look which sent her through the door and up the stairs to her room.

He had said ten minutes and he had undoubtedly meant what he had said. Caroline had never changed so fast in her life before. She raced out of her room and almost fell over Janey.

‘Hey—where are you off to?’ Janey made a grasp at her arm.

‘I can’t stop,’ said Caroline breathlessly, ‘he said in ten minutes…’

She raced down the stairs and Janey, five minutes later, told those of her friends who were in the sitting-room that Caroline had gone out with a man.

‘Good for her,’ said someone. ‘It’s time she had some fun.’

If Caroline had heard that remark she would have felt doubtful about the fun. Mr van Houben was waiting for her, looking remote, almost forbidding, and she very nearly turned tail and went back through the door. The prospect of a good supper was a powerful incentive, however, and she went to where he was standing and said quietly, ‘Well, here I am, Mr van Houben.’

He stood for a moment looking down at her. She had got into the first thing which had come to hand, a short jacket over a thin sweater and a pleated skirt, and, because ten minutes hadn’t been nearly long enough, her hair, though tidy, had been pinned back ruthlessly into a bun instead of its usual French pleat, and there had been even less time to spend on her face.

Mr van Houben laughed inwardly at his sudden decision to take this small unassuming person out for a meal. It had been triggered off by the sight of her sitting by little Marc; she had been the one who had first seen his faint stirrings and acted promptly, but no one had so much as spared her a smile and she had been sent off duty without so much as a thank-you. She must have longed to share their triumph and relief. He was a kind man; at least he could make up for that by giving her a meal.

He said with impersonal friendliness, ‘You hadn’t anything planned for this evening?’ As he ushered her through the doors and out into the forecourt.

She answered him in her sensible way, ‘No, nothing at all.’

He took her arm as they crossed the busy street. ‘No boyfriend to disappoint?’ He was sorry he had said that for, looking down at her in the light of a street lamp, he saw the look on her face and to make amends he added, ‘I should imagine that there is little time for serious friendships while you are training. Plenty of time for that once that’s done with! You might like to travel—there are quite a number of English nurses in our bigger hospitals in Holland.’

He eased the conversation into impersonal channels until they reached the Bristling Dog, where he urged her into the saloon bar, half filled already, mostly by elderly couples and a sprinkling of younger people, most of them eating as well as drinking, and several, Caroline noticed, from the hospital.

Mr van Houben sat her down at a small corner table and fetched the well-thumbed menu card from the bar. It held a surprising variety of food, but Mr van Houben had suggested sausages… ‘Sausages and chips, please,’ she told him, anxious to fall in with his own wishes.

‘Splendid,’ he said, and with unerring instinct, ‘and a pot of tea?’

He was rewarded with her smile. ‘That would be nice.’

The food came, hot and tasty, and with it a pot of tea and thick cups and saucers. Caroline poured out and handed him his cup. It was strong, and even with milk and sugar he found it unpalatable. All the same, he drank a second cup because it was obvious that Caroline expected him to. He was rewarded by her sweet smile and the observation given in matter-of-fact tones that a cup of tea was a splendid pick-me-up when tired.

Over the last of the chips he asked her what she thought of London. ‘You live here?’ he asked casually.

‘No, I live with my aunt at Basing—that’s near Basingstoke. I go home twice a month.’

‘The English countryside is very charming,’ he observed, and from then until they returned to the hospital they talked about it, and the weather, of course, a conversation which gave him no insight as to her likes and dislikes. She was a sensible girl with nice manners and a gentle way with her, and he was surprised to discover that he had rather enjoyed his evening with her. He bade her goodnight in the entrance hall and listened to her nicely put thanks and didn’t tell her that he would be returning to Holland in the morning. Marc’s father, recalled from a remote region of South America where he was building a bridge, would be installed with his wife and baby daughter by now, and Mr van Houben could return to his own work with a moderately easy mind.

He watched her go through the door at the back of the hall and made his way to the children’s wing where he found Mr Spence, his brother Bartus and Sister Crump, who quite often stayed on duty if she saw fit.

‘Very satisfactory,’ said Mr Spence. ‘We’re not out of the wood but there’s plenty of movement. You’ll be over again?’

Marius van Houben nodded. ‘In a few days, just a flying visit.’ He put a large hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘You’ll stay with Emmie until we know how things are? As soon as he’s fit, perhaps we could get him back home with a nurse but that’s early days yet…’

‘A good idea all the same,’ agreed Mr Spence. ‘Familiar surroundings may be the answer.’

‘I’m going along to Theatre to collect up my equipment, I’ll give you a lift back, Bartus—see you at the car presently.’ He bade Mr Spence goodnight with the remark that he would see him before he left the next day, and with a last look at his small nephew he went away. Sister Crump caught up with him as he reached the end of the ward. It was very quiet, the children slept and the night nurses were sitting in the middle of the ward at the night table, shadowy figures under the dark red lampshade.

‘I’m sorry you’re going,’ said Sister Crump in a whisper. ‘Marc wouldn’t have pulled through without your expertise.’

She wasn’t praising him, just stating a fact. ‘I don’t like to lose a patient.’

‘He has had splendid nursing care.’

‘Yes—they’re good girls.’ She frowned. ‘I hope that child had a meal—I should have made sure. She went off duty very late too.’

Mr van Houben smiled down at her worried face. ‘She had sausages and chips and a pot of the strongest tea I have ever been forced to drink.’

‘You? You were with her?’

‘We met in the entrance hall and I happened to be hungry too.’ He opened the door, ‘Goodnight, Sister.’

Sister Crump went back to Mr Spence. She was smiling widely but she rearranged her features into suitable severity as she joined him.

Caroline was pounced upon by Janey on her way to the bath. ‘Where have you been?’ demanded her friend. ‘And who with? And why were you in such a hurry?’

She had been joined by various of Caroline’s friends and one of them added, ‘Have you been out to dinner?’

‘No—just the Bristling Dog.’

There was a concerted gasp. ‘But nurses don’t go there. Whoever took you there and why didn’t you tell him?’

‘Well, I didn’t like to—I suppose he can go where he likes and if I was with him it wouldn’t matter.’

‘Who?’ They hissed at her from all sides.

‘Mr van Houben.’

One of her listeners was doing her six weeks in Theatre. ‘Him? That marvellous man who came specially to give the anaesthetic for Marc? Caroline, how did you do it? We’ve all had a go at him…’

‘He asked me if I was hungry and when I said yes, he said he was too.’

‘Oh, love,’ said Janey, ‘you were wearing that jacket you’ve had for ages, the one that doesn’t fit very well across the shoulders.’

‘He told me to be ready in ten minutes or he’d come and fetch me. I hadn’t time…’

Her friends groaned. ‘What did you eat?’

She told them. ‘And a pot of tea.’ She thought for a bit. ‘And we talked about little Marc and the weather and how flat Holland is…’

‘He won’t even remember you,’ groaned Janey. ‘Why didn’t you tell him that you would like to go out to a splendid meal at the Savoy or something? He might have taken the hint.’

‘I didn’t think of anything like that. I mean, I don’t really think that anyone would want to take me to the Savoy.’ Caroline was quite matter-of-fact about it. ‘Least of all someone like him.’ She hitched up her dressing-gown. ‘I’m on early.’

When she got back to her room there was a note waiting for her telling her to report for duty at ten o’clock instead of half-past seven. A nice surprise, and she switched off her alarm clock and went quite contentedly to sleep.

By the time she arrived on the ward in the morning, Mr van Houben had been to see Marc, bidden goodbye to Sister Crump and left the hospital. He had, for the moment, quite forgotten Caroline.