Читать книгу An Orphan’s War - Molly Green - Страница 12

September 1941

When Mr Churchill had announced at the end of May that the Blitz was over, and the Luftwaffe no longer pounded London and the Docklands every night, Maxine had a desperately needed reprieve. She’d been working twelve-hour shifts, covering for a nurse on sick leave as well as doing her own duties, with little time off in between – not enough to do much more than write letters home, keep up her laundry, and occasionally go to the pictures with one or more of the nurses she’d come to know in other wards. A pleasant Scot called Gillian was now in the next bed but kept herself to herself and Maxine was grateful. It would be a very long time before she’d open her heart to anyone else.

Going through the Blitz with the constant bombing which had caused further destruction at the hospital, the strain of always showing a calm exterior so as not to unsettle the patients every time they heard the siren, and without Anna’s cheerful approach to life, Maxine sometimes found the days difficult to get through.

Nevertheless, she’d looked forward to her few days off with her parents. They’d seemed pleased to have her home, but she could tell by her mother’s glances to her father that she was still puzzled their daughter had left them to fend for themselves.

Feeling she was letting them down, but thankful her father was no worse, Maxine was glad to get back to London.

‘Good to have you back, Taylor,’ Bennett said, immediately she set eyes on Maxine. ‘We’ve missed you with so few of us left.’

Maxine noticed the deep circles under the nurse’s eyes and felt a pang of guilt. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Bennett, I shouldn’t have gone – there was no emergency or anything at home.’

‘Don’t be daft. If anyone needed a break, you did.’ She looked at Maxine under her lashes. ‘Bit of a stir going on since you left.’

‘Oh, what?’ Maxine straightened her cap, barely summoning a grain of curiosity.

Bennett grinned. ‘I expect you’ll see soon enough.’

An hour later Maxine was chatting to Tom Jansen, a soldier who’d been badly wounded in the leg and had had to have it amputated. He’d been incredibly brave, keeping up her spirits every bit as much as she did his, and she was always impressed with his optimism.

‘Enough of the chit-chat, nurse. This is a hospital, not a social club.’

She jumped. Spun round. Looked up to a powerful jaw, hard mouth, and straight into granite-coloured eyes. Strong nose. Dark auburn hair was brushed back from his forehead. A face that meant business.

‘Excuse me, but—’ Maxine began.

‘Nurse was just—’ Tom interrupted, struggling to sit further up in his bed. Maxine automatically went to help him. ‘I’m all right, Nurse – honestly.’

The doctor whom she’d never seen before didn’t give the boy a glance. As if he’d never spoken. Instead, the steely eyes alighted on Maxine.

‘No excuses – there’s work to do, so get on with it.’ He swung away.

Maxine stared after his departing figure marching along the basement corridor, burning with fury. Even Matron never spoke to her so rudely. Where was Matron this morning anyway? She knew, if anyone did, that Maxine barely wasted a minute. What an overbearing … She couldn’t think of a strong enough word to describe him. Who did he think he was?

She tried to carry on with her normal duties but her heart quickened with annoyance every time she thought of the auburn-haired doctor. He obviously had no respect for nurses whatsoever, no bedside manner, no understanding that a little human contact which made them feel special and individual played a crucial part in a patient’s recovery. She needed to find out if he’d been temporarily transferred to her ward or, God help them, was going to be there permanently. If so … She didn’t want to think further, except that if he was, she was in for an even greater daily challenge.

But to Maxine’s surprise, not everyone thought the same way about the new addition to the department.

‘Isn’t he a dreamboat?’ Bennett’s eyes danced mischievously as she was about to take temperatures. She looked at Maxine. ‘You have met him, haven’t you?’

‘Met who?’ Maxine replied innocently, though she knew perfectly well now who Bennett was talking about.

‘Red.’

‘Red?’

‘You know. The new doctor.’ Bennett looked surprised Maxine didn’t seem to know who she was referring to.

‘It’s Mr Blake, as it happens,’ Sister admonished as she swept past to supervise the new probationers.

The two young women grinned at one another.

‘A surgeon, no less,’ Bennett said, her hand to her mouth to stifle the ready laugh. ‘Even better.’

‘No wonder he’s on his high horse,’ Maxine commented.

‘What makes you say that?’ Curiosity flickered across her colleague’s face.

‘He told me off for chatting to Tom. And when Tom tried to stick up for me he completely ignored him and carried on at me in a most arrogant manner. I thought he was horrible.’

‘Mmm.’ Bennett shot a look at her watch. ‘We need to continue this conversation this evening when we have some privacy.’

The buzz in the temporary canteen the Red Cross had organised after the bombings was even greater than usual. Maxine caught the name ‘Red’ several times from some giggling trainees at the next table.

‘Wonder if he’s as red hot as his name.’ A girl with bright golden curls escaping her cap laughed and gave a huge wink to her colleague opposite.

Maxine glared at them before burying her head in her book at the same time as eating her stew and dumplings, though it was difficult to concentrate with the volume of noise around her.

‘Is this seat taken?’

It was a deep voice, educated, richly coating the few words.

‘No, please … She barely looked up beyond the white coat buttoned to the neck, recognising his voice. She dropped her eyes to her book again, hoping he would leave her in peace.

‘Oh, didn’t I meet you earlier … in the men’s ward, wasn’t it?’ He set his tray on the table, removed the plate and cutlery, and propped the tray up against the table as he sat down, his piercing grey eyes fixed firmly upon her.

Damn. The arrogant surgeon. She was tempted to tell him it was the exact opposite of ‘wasting time’ that he’d accused her of, but she raised her head a few inches and looked directly at him.

‘I believe you spoke to me when I was with Mr Jansen.’ Ice dripped from the words as she made a pretence of dropping her eyes back to her book.

‘And your name?’

What a rude man. She bit her tongue to stop herself from giving him a sharp reply. She must never do anything, say anything, to get in the way of her Nightingale Badge. Be polite. However he tries to get your goat.

She placed her finger on the paragraph she was reading to let him know this was only going to be a brief interruption. ‘I’m Nurse Taylor.’ Immediately the image of Johnny sprang to her mind. She blinked.

‘Christian name?’ he practically barked.

Her hands made a fist underneath the table. ‘Maxine.’

‘Maxine,’ he repeated and jerked his head towards her book. ‘What are you reading?’

She looked across at him, irritation bubbling to the surface. ‘Out of Africa.’

‘Oh, Isak Dinesen’s memoir. How do you find it?’

He would know Karen Blixen’s Danish name. Try as she might, she could never recall it.

‘I like to read about a determined woman who is doing what she loves most against all odds,’ she returned coolly.

‘Is that what you are? A determined woman?’ He raised his eyes to the ceiling, then caught her eye and smiled in a self-satisfied way. ‘Are you working at St Thomas’ against all odds?’

How dare he?

‘I don’t think there’s any comparison between a nurse in a hospital and Karen Blixen running her farm single-handedly.’ She deliberately looked down at her book again.

Why doesn’t he go away and leave me alone?

‘Impossible to concentrate, I should say, in this madhouse.’ He gazed towards the heaving tables.

The annoying thing was that this time he was right. She snapped her book closed.

‘By the way, I’m Edwin Blake.’

If he thought she was going to curl up in deference to his godly presence, he was wrong. She hid a smile. She’d have a little game with him.

‘How do you do, Dr Blake.’

Quick as a flash he answered, ‘It’s Mr Blake, actually.’

Maxine’s hand flew to her mouth in mock dismay. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

If Anna had been with her at that moment and caught her eye they would not have dared look at each other for fear of breaking into giggles for pulling the great man down a few pegs. She looked innocently at him.

There was a moment’s pause. Her heart beat a little too rapidly. Have I gone too far?

‘I suppose I deserved that.’ A smile hovered, softening the hard line of his lips.

She picked up her knife and fork again and made a pretence of finishing her meal, but each swallow stuck in her throat. This was awful. She wasn’t enjoying the stew at all with him staring at her, while he hadn’t even touched his food.

‘You may begin, Mr Blake,’ she emphasised, tackling a piece of brownish potato. She looked up and smiled. ‘Sorry, but you were staring.’

Her remark seemed to draw him back an inch or two. Then what looked like a flicker of respect passed across his face. ‘Was I really? I didn’t mean to.’

He began to eat, grimacing every so often and inspecting the contents of his fork before continuing. He broke the awkward silence.

‘How long have you been at St Thomas’?’

Oh, no. He wanted to keep up a conversation. Surely her message was clear that she wasn’t at all interested. He was just doing it to annoy her.

‘A year. When it was a whole building.’ She placed her knife and fork neatly together and made a great play of looking at her watch, ‘Oh, it’s later than I thought.’ She jumped to her feet and tucked her book under her arm.

He immediately sprang up. ‘But you haven’t finished your—’

‘I wouldn’t want to be accused of wasting time again.’ She threw him a cold glance. ‘Good day, Mr Blake.’ With that she turned and made her way through the narrow spaces between the other tables, inwardly seething.

Pompous prig. She thought of more words for Mr Edwin Blake as she tidied her hair in the small mottled mirror over the washbasin in the cloakroom before she felt ready to face her patients again.

‘A word with you, please, Nurse Taylor.’

Sister Crook put her head round the tiny kitchen as Maxine was preparing the drinks on her ward. She immediately put down the cloth and followed Sister into her room.

‘Sit down, please.’ Sister Crook took her place on the opposite side of the desk. ‘I’m most surprised,’ the older woman began, ‘to find that although you have not actually been rude to one of your superiors, you have nevertheless not acted in the required deferential manner to an eminent surgeon. So what do you have to say for yourself?’

A flush of anger rushed to Maxine’s cheeks. ‘I imagine you’re referring to Mr Blake,’ she said, barely trusting herself to speak.

Sister nodded.

By sheer willpower, Maxine stopped herself from saying anything that would get her into more trouble.

‘What I’m saying, Nurse, is that you need to mind your P’s and Q’s when he’s around. Mr Blake is an important man and we’re grateful to have him here. And you don’t want him putting any black marks against your Nightingale Badge, do you?’

‘No, of course not.’ Oh, how she detested such arrogance. Someone who put himself so far above the minions, he thought nothing of having the power to ruin her career if he so wished. Her hands clenched into fists.

‘So will you in future give him the respect he deserves?’

Maxine only paused for a second. Sister’s eyes were unusually stern. ‘Yes, Sister, I’ll do my best.’

‘That will be all.’ She let her gaze rest on Maxine a few moments more. ‘You’re an excellent worker, Nurse Taylor, but you have much to learn about men. Never forget – they can make us or break us.’