Читать книгу Rags To Riches Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 15

LYING in bed at the end of her first day at St Jules’, Araminta tried not to remember all the things which had gone wrong and reminded herself that this was the career she had wished for. Now that she had started upon it, nothing was going to deter her from completing it.

Of course, she had started off on the wrong foot. The hospital was large, and had been built in the days when long corridors and unexpected staircases were the norm. Presumably the nurses then had found nothing unusual in traipsing their length, but to Araminta, who had never encountered anything like them before, they’d spelt disaster. She had gone the wrong way, up the wrong staircase and presented herself at Sister’s office only to be told that she had come to Stewart’s ward; Baxter’s was at the other end of the hospital and up another flight of stairs.

So she had arrived late, to encounter Sister Spicer’s basilisk stare.

‘You’re late,’ she was told. ‘Why?’

‘I got lost,’ said Araminta.

‘A ridiculous excuse. Punctuality is something I insist upon on my ward. Have you done any nursing before coming here?’

Araminta explained about the children’s convalescent home, but decided against mentioning her work for the doctor.

Sister Spicer sighed. ‘You will have to catch up with the other students as best you can. I suppose Sister Tutor will do what she can with you. I have no time to mollycoddle you, so you had better learn pretty fast.’

Araminta nodded her head.

‘If you don’t you might as well leave.’

Once upon a time Sister Spicer had probably been a nice person, reflected Araminta. Perhaps she had been crossed in love. Although she could see little to love in the cold handsome face. Poor soul, thought Araminta, and then jumped at Sister Spicer’s voice. ‘Well, go and find staff nurse.’

The ward was in the oldest part of the hospital, long, and lighted by a row of windows along one side, with the beds facing each other down its length occupied by women of all ages. There were two nurses making beds, who took no notice of her. At the far end Staff Nurse, identified by her light blue uniform, was bending over a trolley with another nurse beside her.

She was greeted briefly, told to go and make beds with the nurse, and thrown, as it were, to the lions.

Araminta didn’t like remembering that rest of the morning. She had made beds, carried bedpans, handed round dinners and helped any number of patients in and out of bed, but never, it seemed, quite quickly enough.

‘New, are yer, ducks?’ one old lady had asked, with an alarming wheeze and a tendency to go purple in the face when she coughed. ‘Don’t you mind no one. Always in an ’urry and never no time ter tell yer anything.’

Her dinner hour had been a respite. She had sat at the table with Molly and the other students and they had been sympathetic.

‘It’s because you’re new and no one has had the time to tell you anything. You’re off at six o’clock, aren’t you? And you’ll come to the lectures this afternoon. Two o’clock, mind. Even Sister Spicer can’t stop you.’

She had enjoyed the lectures, although she’d discovered that there was a good deal of catching up to do.

‘You must borrow one of the other students’ books and copy out the lectures I’ve already given,’ Sister Tutor had said. This was an exercise which would take up several days off duty.

‘But it’s what I wanted,’ said Araminta to herself now.

She had to admit by the end of the week that things weren’t quite as she had expected them to be. According to Sister Spicer, she was lazy, slow and wasted far too much time with the patients. There was plenty of work, she had been told, without stopping to find their curlers and carry magazines to and fro, fill water jugs and pause to admire the photos sent from home of children and grandchildren. It was all rather unsatisfactory, and it seemed that she would be on Baxter’s ward for three months…

She longed for her days off, and when they came she was up early and out of the hospital, on her way home as quickly as she could manage. She scooted across the forecourt as fast as her legs could carry her, watched, if she had but known, by Dr van der Breugh, who had been called in early and was now enjoying a cup of coffee before he went back home.

The sight of her small scurrying figure sent the thought of her tumbling back into his head and he frowned. He had managed for almost a whole week to think of her only occasionally. Well, perhaps rather more than occasionally! She would be going home for her days off and he toyed with the idea of driving to Hambledon to find out if she had settled in. He squashed the idea and instead, when he encountered one of the medical consultants on his way out of the hospital, asked casually how the new student nurses were shaping.

‘I borrowed one of them for a few weeks and she’s been accepted late.’

‘Oh, yes, I remember hearing about that. They’re quite a good bunch, but of course she has to catch up. She’s on Baxter’s and Sister Spicer is a bit of a martinet. Don’t see much of the nurses, though, do we? If I remember she was being told off for getting the wrong patient out of bed when I saw her, something like that. Rather quiet, I thought, but Sister Spicer can take the stuffing out of anyone. Terrifies me occasionally.’

They both laughed and went on their way.

Araminta, home by mid-morning, found her cousin and Cherub to welcome her. Over coffee she made light of her first week at St Jules’.

‘Have you heard from your mother?’ asked Millicent. ‘She phoned, but they were still busy with some new Celtic finds. She said they might not be home yet…’

‘They’ll be back before Christmas, though?’

‘Oh, I’m sure they will! It’s still October. Will you get off for the holiday?’

Araminta shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, I’m very junior, but of course I’ll get my days off as near to Christmas Day as possible.’

‘You like it? You’re happy?’

Araminta assured her that she was.

The two days were soon over, but they had given her a respite, and she went back on the ward determined to make the week a better one than her first had been. It was a pity that Sister Spicer was bent on making that as difficult as possible.

Molly had told her that Sister Spicer, if she took a dislike to anyone, would go to great lengths to make life as unpleasant as possible for her. Araminta hadn’t quite believed that, but now she saw that it was true. Nothing she did was quite right; she was too slow, too clumsy, too careless. She tried not to let it worry her and took comfort from the patients, who liked her. Staff Nurse was kind, too, and the two senior student nurses, although the other student nurse who was in the same set as she now was, did nothing to make life easier for her.

Melanie was a small, pretty girl, always ready with the right answers during the lectures they both attended, and, since Sister Spicer liked her, the fact that she sometimes skimped her work and was careless of the patients’ comfort, went unnoticed. She was young, barely nineteen, and made it obvious that Araminta need not expect either her friendship or her help on the ward.

When once she came upon Araminta speaking to one of the house doctors she said spitefully, ‘Don’t you know better than to talk to the housemen? Is that why you’re here? To catch yourself a husband? Just you wait and see what happens to you if Sister Spicer catches you.’

Araminta looked at her in blank astonishment. ‘He was asking me the way to Outpatients; he’s new.’

Melanie giggled. ‘That’s as good an excuse as any, I suppose, but watch out.’

Thank heavens I’ve got days off tomorrow, Araminta thought. Since she was off duty at six o’clock that evening, she would be able to catch a train home. She hadn’t told her cousin, but she would be home by nine o’clock at the latest…

The afternoon was endless, but she went about getting patients in and out of bed, helping them, getting teas, bed pans, filling water jugs, but it was six o’clock at last and she went to the office, thankful that she could at last ask to go off duty.

Sister Spicer barley glanced up from the report she was writing.

‘Have you cleaned and made up the bed in the side ward? And the locker? It may be needed. You should have done it earlier. I told Nurse Jones to tell you. Well, it’s your own fault for not listening, Nurse. Go and do it now and then you may go off duty.’

‘I wasn’t told to do it, Sister,’ Araminta said politely, ‘and I am off duty at six o’clock.’

Sister Spicer did look up then. ‘You’ll do as you are told, Nurse—and how dare you answer back in that fashion? I shall see the Principal Nursing Sister in the morning and I shall recommend that you are entirely unsuitable for training. If I can’t train you, no one else could.’

She bent her head over her desk and Araminta went back into the ward where there was a third-year nurse and Melanie, who had taken such a dislike to her. Neither of them took any notice of her as she went to the side ward and started on the bed. She very much wanted to speak her mind, but that might upset the patients and, worse, she might burst into tears. She would have her days off and when she came back she would go and see the Principal Nursing Officer and ask to be moved to another ward. Unheard of, but worth a try!

It was almost seven o’clock by the time she had finished readying the room and making up the bed. She went down the ward, wishing the patients a cheerful goodnight as she went, ignoring the nurses and ignoring, too, Sister’s office, walking past it, out of the ward and along the corridor, then going down the wide stone staircase to the floor below and then another staircase to the ground floor.

She was trying to make up her mind as to whether it was too late to go home, or should she wait for the morning, but she was boiling with rage and misery. Nothing was turning out as she had hoped, not that that mattered now that she would never see Marcus van der Breugh again. The pain of loving him was almost physical. She swallowed the tears she must hold back until she was in her room.

‘I shall probably be given the sack,’ she said out loud, and jumped the last two steps, straight into the doctor’s waistcoat.

‘Oh,’ said Araminta, as she flung her arms around as much of him as she could reach and burst into tears.

He stood patiently, holding her lightly, and not until her sobs had dwindled into hiccoughs and sniffs did he ask, ‘In trouble?’

‘Yes, oh, yes. You have no idea.’ It seemed the most natural thing in the world to tell him, and, for the moment, the delight of finding him there just when she wanted him so badly had overridden all her good resolutions not to see him again, to forget him…

He said calmly in a voice she wouldn’t have dreamt of disobeying, ‘Come with me,’ and he urged her across the corridor and into a room at its end.

‘I can’t come in here,’ said Araminta. ‘It’s the consultants’ room. I’m not allowed…’

‘I’m a consultant and I’m allowing you. Sit down, Mintie, and tell me why you are so upset.’

He handed her a very white handkerchief. ‘Mop up your face, stop crying and begin at the beginning.’

She stopped crying and mopped her face, but to begin at the beginning was impossible. She told him everything, muddling its sequence, making no excuses. ‘And, of course, I’ll be given the sack,’ she finished. ‘I was so rude to Sister Spicer, and anyway, she said I was no good, that I’d never make a nurse.’

She gave a sniff and blew her nose vigorously. ‘It’s kind of you to listen; I don’t know why I had to behave like that. At least, I do, I had been looking forward to my days off, and I would have been home by now. But it’s all my own fault; I’m just not cut out to be a nurse. But that doesn’t matter,’ she added defiantly. ‘There are any number of careers these days.’

The doctor made no comment. All he said was, ‘Go and wait in the nurses’ sitting room until I send you a message. No, don’t start asking questions. I’ll explain later.’

He led her back, saw her on her way and went without haste to the Principal Nursing Officer’s office. He was there for some time, using his powers of persuasion, cutting ruthlessly through rules and regulations with patience and determination which couldn’t be gainsaid.

Araminta found several of her new friends in the sitting room, and it was Molly who asked, ‘Not gone yet?’ and then, when she saw Araminta’s face, added, ‘Come and sit down. We were just wondering if we’d go down to the corner and get some chips.’

Araminta said carefully, ‘I meant to go home this evening, but I got held up. I—I was rude to Sister Spicer. I expect I’ll be dismissed.’

She didn’t feel like a grown woman, more like a disobedient schoolgirl and she despised herself for it.

Molly said bracingly, ‘It can’t be as bad as all that, Mintie. You’ll see, when you come back from your days off you’ll find it will all have blown over.’

Araminta shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. You see, Molly, I think Sister Spicer is probably right; I’m not very efficient, and I’m slow. I like looking after people and somehow there’s never enough time. Oh, you know what I mean—someone wants a bed pan but I’m not allowed to give it because the consultant is due in five minutes—that sort of thing.’

‘You’ve not been happy here, have you, Mintie?’

‘No, to be honest I haven’t. I think it will be best if I go and see the Principal Nursing Officer and tell her I’d like to leave.’

‘You don’t want to give it another try?’ someone asked, but Araminta didn’t answer because the warden had put her head round the corner.

‘Nurse Pomfrey, you’re to go to the consultants’ room immediately.’

She went out, banging the door after her.

‘Mintie, whatever is happening? Why do you have to go there?’

Araminta was at the door. ‘I’ll come back and tell you,’ she promised.

Dr van der Breugh was standing with his vast back to the room, looking out of the window, when she knocked and went in. He turned round and gave her a thoughtful look before he spoke.

‘Have you decided what you want to do?’

‘Yes, I’ll go and ask if I may leave. At once, if that’s allowed. But I don’t suppose it is.’

‘And what do you intend to do?’

‘It’s kind of you to ask, doctor,’ said Araminta, hoping that her voice wouldn’t wobble. ‘I shall go home and then look for the kind of job I can do. Probably they will take me back at the convalescent home.’

They wouldn’t; someone had taken her place and there was no need of her services there now. But he wasn’t to know that.

‘I feel responsible for this unfortunate state of affairs,’ said the doctor slowly, ‘for it was I who persuaded you to look after the twins and then arranged for you to come here. I should have known that it would be difficult for you, having to catch up with the other students. And Sister Spicer…’

He came away from the window. ‘Sit down, Mintie, I have a suggestion to make to you. I do so reluctantly, for you must have little faith in my powers to help you. I have a patient whose son is the owner and headmaster of a boys’ prep school at Eastbourne. I saw her today and she told me that he is looking urgently for a temporary assistant matron. The previous one left unexpectedly to nurse her mother and doesn’t know when she intends to return. I gave no thought to it until I saw you this evening. Would you consider going there? You would need to be interviewed, of course, but it is a job with which you are already familiar.’

‘Little boys? But how can I take the job? I am not sure, but I expect I’d have to give some sort of notice.’ She added sharply, ‘Of course I have faith in you, I’m very grateful that you should have thought of me.’

‘But if it could be arranged, you would like the job, provided the interview was satisfactory?’

‘Yes. You see, that’s something I can do—little boys and babies and girls.’ She paused, then explained, ‘It’s not like nursing.’

‘No, I realise that. So you are prepared to give it a try? I have seen the Principal Nursing Officer. If you go her office now you may make a request to leave. It is already granted, but you need to go through the motions. I will contact my patient and ask her to arrange things with her son. You should hear shortly.’

He went to the door and opened it for her. ‘I will drive you home tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock in the forecourt.’

‘There is really no need…’ began Araminta. ‘I’m perfectly able…’

‘Yes, yes, I know, but I have no time in which to argue about it. Kindly do as I ask, Mintie.’

If he had called her Miss Pomfrey in his usually coolly civil way, she would have persisted in arguing, but he had called her Mintie, in a voice kind enough to dispel any wish to argue with him. Besides, she loved him, and when you love someone, she had discovered, you wish to do everything to please them.

She said, ‘Very well, doctor,’ and added politely, ‘Good evening.’

She went off to the office, buoyed up by the knowledge that if Marcus had said that everything was arranged, then that would be so and she had no need to worry. She knocked and, bidden to enter, received a bracing but kind lecture, a recommendation to find work more suited to her capabilities and permission to leave.

‘Be sure and hand in your uniform and notify the warden. There is no need for you to see Sister Spicer.’ She was offered a hand. ‘I have no doubt that you will find exactly what you want, Nurse.’

So Araminta shook hands and got herself out of the office, leaving her superior thoughtful. Really, Dr van der Breugh had gone to great lengths to arrange the girl’s departure. After all, he wasn’t responsible for her, whatever he said. The Principal Nursing Officer wouldn’t have allowed her arm to be twisted by anyone else but him; she liked him and respected him and so did everyone else at the hospital. All the same, he must be interested—such a plain little thing, too.

Araminta went back to the sitting room and half a dozen pairs of eyes fastened on her as she went in.

‘Well?’ asked Molly. ‘Who was it? What’s happened? Was Sister Spicer there?’

Araminta shook her head. ‘No, just me. I’m leaving in the morning…’

‘But you can’t. I mean, you have to give notice that you want to, and reasons.’

Araminta decided to explain. ‘Well, I didn’t come with the rest of you because I was asked to take on a job in an emergency. I did tell you that. But the thing is the person I worked for was Dr van der Breugh—with his nephews—and I went to look after them provided he would do his best to get me a place here as soon as possible. Well, he did, but it hasn’t worked out, so now he has arranged for me to leave. The Principal Nursing Officer was very nice about it.’

There was a chorus of voices. ‘What will you do? Try another hospital? Find another job?’

‘Go home.’

Molly said, ‘It’s good of Dr van der Breugh to help you. I can quite see that he feels responsible—I mean, you obliged him in the first place, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. And he did warn me that he didn’t think I’d be any good at nursing. Only I’d set my heart on it. I’ll start again, but not just yet.’

‘If you’re going in the morning you’ll have to pack and sort out your uniform. We’ll give you a hand.’

So several of them went to Araminta’s room and helped her to pack. She went in search of the warden and handed in her uniform, taking no heed of the lecture she was given by that lady, and presently they all went down to supper and then to make tea and talk about it, so that Araminta had no time at all to think or make plans. Which was a good thing, for her head was in a fine muddle. Tomorrow, she told herself, she would sit down quietly and think things out. Quite what she meant by that she didn’t know.

She woke very early, her head full of her meeting with the doctor. It was wonderful that he had come into her life once more—surely for the last time. And since he had gone to so much trouble she would take this job at Eastbourne and stay there for as long as they would have her. It was work she could do, she would have some money, she could go home in the holidays and she would take care never to see Marcus again. That shouldn’t be difficult, for he had never shown a wish to see more of her. She got up, and dressed, then said goodbye to her friends, and promptly at ten o’clock went down to the entrance with her case. She hadn’t been particularly happy at the hospital but all the same she felt regret at leaving it.

The doctor came to meet her, took her case and put it in the boot, and settled her beside him in the car. He had wished her good morning, taken a look at her face and then decided to say nothing more for the moment. Mintie wasn’t a girl to cry easily, he was sure, but he suspected that there were plenty more tears from where the last outburst had come, and it would only need a wrong word to start them off.

He drove out of the forecourt into the morning traffic.

‘We will go home and have coffee, for Briskett wants to bid you goodbye. You have an appointment to see Mr Gardiner at three o’clock this afternoon. He will be at the Red Lion in Henley. Ask for him at Reception.’

He didn’t ask her if she had changed her mind, and he had nothing further to say until he stopped in front of his house.

Briskett had the door open before they reached it, delighted to see her again.

‘There’s coffee in the small sitting room,’ said Briskett, ‘and I’ll have your coat, Miss Pomfrey.’

They sat opposite each other by the fire, drinking Briskett’s delicious coffee and eating his little vanilla biscuits, and the doctor kept up an undemanding conversation: the boys were fine, he had seen them on the previous weekend, they were all going over to Friesland for Christmas. ‘They sent their love—they miss you, Mintie.’

He didn’t add that he missed her, too. He must go slowly, allow her to find her feet, prove to herself that she could make a success of a job. He had admitted to himself that she had become the one thing that really mattered to him, that he loved her. He had waited a long time to find a woman to love, and now that he had he was willing to wait for her to feel the same way, something which might take time…

He drove her to Hambledon later, and once more found the house empty save for a delighted Cherub. There was another note, too, and, unlike Briskett, the doctor coolly took it from Araminta’s hand when she had read it.

The cousin had gone to Kingston to shop and would be back after tea. He put the note back, ignoring her indignant look, and glanced around him. Briskett had given a faithful description of the house: pleasant, old-fashioned solid furniture and lacking a welcome.

‘It’s a good thing, really,’ said Araminta. ‘I’ve an awful lot to do, especially if I get this job and they want me as soon as possible.’

He rightly took this as a strong hint that he should go. He would have liked to have taken her somewhere for a meal but she would have refused. When she thanked him for the lift and his help in getting her another job, he made a noncommittal reply, evincing no wish to see her again, but wishing her a happy future. And in a month or two he would contrive to see her again…

Araminta, wishing him goodbye and not knowing that, felt as though her heart would break—hearts never did, of course, but it was no longer a meaningless nonsense.

But there was little time to indulge in unhappiness. In three hours’ time she would have to be at the Red Lion in Henley, and in the meantime there was a lot to do.

There had been no time to have second thoughts; that evening, washing and ironing, sorting out what clothes she would take with her while she listened to her cousin’s chatter, Araminta wondered if she had been too hasty.

Mr Gardiner had been no time-waster. He was a man of early middle age, quiet and taciturn, asking her sensible questions and expecting sensible answers. His need for an assistant matron was urgent, with upwards of fifty little boys and Matron run off her feet. He’d read her credentials, then voiced the opinion that they seemed satisfactory.

‘In any case,’ he told her, ‘my mother tells me that Dr van der Breugh is a man of integrity and highly respected. He gave you a most satisfactory reference. Now, as to conditions and salary…’

He dealt with these quite swiftly and asked, ‘Are you prepared to come? As soon as possible?’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Could you manage tomorrow?’

The sooner she had something to occupy her thoughts the better, reflected Araminta. She agreed to start on the following day. ‘In the late afternoon? Would that do? There are several things I must see to…’

‘Of course, we’ll expect you around teatime. Take a taxi from the station and put it down to expenses. I don’t suppose you have a uniform? I’ll get Matron to find something.’

He had given her tea and she had come back home to find her cousin returned. A good thing, for she’d offered to cook them a meal while Araminta began on her packing. She’d phoned her mother later to tell her that she had left the hospital and was taking up a job as an assistant school matron.

‘What a good idea,’ observed her parent comfortably. ‘You liked the convalescent home, didn’t you? A pity you couldn’t have stayed with Dr van der Breugh’s nephews, for it seems to me, my love, that you are cut out to be a homebody. I’m sure you will be very happy at Eastbourne.

‘We shall be home very shortly and we must make plans for Christmas. We still have a good deal of research to do and the publishers are anxious for us to have our book ready by the spring, but we shall be home soon, although we may need to make a trip to Cornwall—there have been some interesting discoveries made near Bodmin.’

Araminta was sorry to leave Cherub once again. It was fortunate that he was a self-sufficient cat, content as long as he was fed and could get in and out of the house. Araminta, on her way to Eastbourne the next day, wondered if it would be possible for her to have him with her at the school. There was a flatlet, Mr Gardiner had told her, and Cherub would be happy in her company. She would wait until she had been there for a time and then see what could be done. It depended very much on the matron she would be working with. Araminta, speculating about her, decided that no one could be worse than Sister Spicer…

The school was close to the sea front, a large rambling place surrounded by a high brick wall, but the grounds around it were ample; there were tennis courts and a covered swimming pool and a cricket pitch. And the house looked welcoming.

She was admitted by a friendly girl who took her straight to Mr Gardiner’s office. He got up to shake hands, expressed pleasure at her arrival and suggested that she might like to go straight to Matron.

‘I’ll take you up and leave you to get acquainted. The boys will be at supper very shortly, and then they have half an hour’s recreation before bed. Perhaps you could work alongside Matron for a while this evening and get some idea of the work?’

Matron had a sitting room and a bedroom on the first floor next to the sick bay. She was a youngish woman with a round, cheerful face and welcomed Araminta warmly. Over a pot of tea she expressed her relief at getting help.

‘It’s a good job here,’ she observed. ‘The Gardiners are very kind and considerate, but it does need two of us. You like small boys? Mr Gardiner told me that you had worked with them.’

She took Araminta along to her room presently, at the other end of the house but on the same floor. It was quite large, with a shower room leading from it, an electric fire, a gas ring and a kettle. It was comfortably furnished and on the bed there was an assortment of blue and white striped dresses.

‘I’ve done the best I could,’ said Matron. ‘See if any of them fit—the best of them can be altered.’ She hesitated. ‘Mr Gardiner always calls me Matron—but the name’s Pagett, Norma. I should call you Matron as well, when the boys are around, but…’ She paused enquiringly.

‘Would you call me Mintie? It’s Araminta, really, but almost no one calls me that. Do I call you Miss Pagett?’

‘Heavens no, call me Norma. I’m sure we shall get on well together.’

Norma went back to her room and left Araminta to try on the dresses. One or two were a tolerable fit, so she changed, unpacked her few things and went back to Norma’s room.

There was just time to be given a brief resumé of her work before the boys’ suppertime, and presently, presiding over a table of small boys gobbling their suppers, Araminta felt a surge of content. She wasn’t happy, but it seemed that she had found the right job at last—and who could be miserable with all these little boys talking and shouting, pushing and shoving and then turning into pious little angels when Mr Gardiner said grace at the end of the meal?

Later that evening, sitting in her dressing gown, drinking cocoa in Norma’s room, Araminta reminded herself that this was exactly what she had wanted. She would never be a career girl, but she hoped there would be a secure and pleasant future ahead for her.

Hard on this uplifting thought came another one. She didn’t want security and life could be as unpleasant as it liked, if only she could see Marcus again.

The next few days gave her no chance to indulge in self-pity. Accustomed as she was to the care of small children, she still found the day’s workload heavy. Norma was well organised, being a trained children’s nurse, and efficient. She was kind and patient, too, and the boys liked her. They liked Araminta, too, and once she had learned her day’s routine, and her way round the school, she found that life could be pleasant enough even if busy—provided, of course, that she didn’t allow herself to think about Marcus.

The following weekend was an exeat, and the boys would have Saturday, Sunday and Monday to go home, save for a handful whose parents were abroad.

‘We will split the weekend between us,’ Norma told her, ‘I’ll have Friday evening—you can manage, can’t you?—and come back on Sunday at midday. You can have the rest of Sunday and Monday, only be back in the evening, won’t you? The boys will come back after tea. Mr Gardiner doesn’t mind how we arrange things as long as one of us is here to keep an eye on the boys who are staying—there aren’t many; all but half a dozen have family or friends to whom they go.’

‘I don’t mind if I don’t go home,’ said Araminta. ‘I’ve only just got here…’

‘Nice of you, but fair’s fair, and you’ll be glad of a couple of days away. This is always a busy term— Christmas and the school play and parents coming and the boys getting excited.’

Marcus van der Breugh, busy man though he was, still found time to phone Mrs Gardiner senior. ‘A happy coincidence,’ he told her, ‘that you should have mentioned your son’s urgent need for help. I am sure that Miss Pomfrey will be suitable for the work.’

Mrs Gardiner, with time on her hands, was only too glad to chat.

‘I heard from him yesterday evening. He is very satisfied. She seems a nice girl—the boys like her and the matron likes her. So important that these people should get on well together, don’t you agree? And, of course, she is fortunate in that it is an exeat at the weekend and she will be free for part of the time to go home. She and Matron will share the days between them, of course; someone has to be there for the boys who stay at the school.’ She gave a satisfied laugh. ‘I feel we must congratulate ourselves on arranging things so successfully.’

The doctor, making suitable replies when it seemed necessary, was already making plans.

Araminta was surprised to get a letter the next morning; her parents were still away and the writing on the envelope wasn’t her cousin’s. She opened it slowly; her first delighted thought that it was from the doctor was instantly squashed. The writing was a woman’s; his writing was almost unreadable.

It was from Lucy Ingram. She had asked her brother where Araminta was, she wrote, and he had given her the school’s address. Could Araminta come and stay for a day or two when she was next free? The boys were so anxious to see her again. ‘It’s an exeat next weekend and I dare say all the schools are the same. So if you are free, do let us know. I’ll drive over and fetch you. Do come if you can; it will be just us. Will you give me a ring?’

Araminta phoned that evening. It would be nice to see Peter and Paul again, and perhaps hear something of Marcus from his sister. She accepted with pleasure but wondered if it was worth Mrs Ingram’s drive. ‘It’s only a day and a half,’ she pointed out, ‘and it’s quite a long way.’

‘The M4, M25, and a straight run down to Eastbourne. I’ll be there on Sunday at noon. And we shall love to see you again.’

The school seemed very empty once most of the boys had gone and Norma had got into her elderly car and driven away. There were eight boys left, and with Mr Gardiner’s permission Araminta had planned one or two treats for the next day. The pier was still open and some of the amusements—the slot machines, the games which never yielded up a prize, the fortune-teller—were still there.

After their midday dinner she marshalled her little flock and, armed with a pocket full of tenpenny pieces which she handed out amongst them, she let them try everything and then trotted them along the esplanade and into the town, where they had tea at one of the smartest cafés.

Mr Gardiner had told her to give them a good time, that she would be reimbursed, so they ate an enormous tea and, content with their outing, walked back through the dusk to the school. Since it was a holiday they were allowed to stay up for an hour and watch television after their supper. Araminta, going from bed to bed wishing them goodnight, was almost as tired as they were.

She put everything ready for the morning before she went to bed, praying that Norma would be as good as her word and return punctually.

She did. Araminta, back from church with the boys and Mr Gardiner and his wife, wished everyone a hurried goodbye and went out of the school gate to find Mrs Ingram waiting there.

‘You’ve not been waiting long?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘It’s been a bit of a scramble.’

‘Five minutes. How nice to see you again, Mintie. I thought we’d stop for lunch on the way; we’ll be home before three o’clock and then we’ll have an early tea with the boys. They can’t wait to see you again.’

‘It’s very kind of you to invite me. I—I didn’t expect to see you or the boys again.’

‘You like this new job?’ Mrs Ingram was driving fast along the almost empty road.

‘Yes, very much. I’ve only been here for a week. I started nursing, but I wasn’t any good at it. Dr van der Breugh happened to see me at the hospital and arranged for me to give up training, and he happened to know of this school. He’s been very kind.’

Mrs Ingram shot her a quick look. ‘Yes, he is. Far too busy, too. We don’t see enough of him, so thank heaven for the phone. Now, tell me, what exactly do you do?’

The drive seemed shorter than it was; they found plenty to talk about, and stopped for a snack meal at a service station. The time passed pleasantly and, true to her word, Mrs Ingram stopped the car at her home just before three o’clock.