Promise the Doctor (2 page)

Most of them do,’ Joy returned. ‘Mrs. Histram is an exception, but one can understand...’

They went on into the ward, from the depths of which Joy could hear the sound of muffled, hysterical sobbing and the brisk tones of Staff Nurse Wilson’s calming response, given in her most soothing and professional tones. She felt suddenly sorry for plump, comfortable Mrs. Histram. She had come into the General two days ago for a simple curettage, with no trouble whatsoever anticipated, but she had arrived in a state of high nervous tension which had, it seemed, increased hour by hour. She was in her late middle years and had never before been inside a hospital, and what she had read and imagined had built up in her mind to a state of absolute fear, a condition which would have to be dealt with medically, by the R.M.O’s prescribing a sedative or by some other calm-inducing means. At the moment, Joy could only feel sorry for the woman and her unreasoning fears, knowing that it was a similar state of mental stress which made her own sister’s such a difficult case to deal with and to nurse.

She
went quietly into the ward. Mrs. Histram was sobbing quietly now, but Joy knew the effect this was likely to have on the rest of her patients. She walked over to the woman’s bed, but as she was about to speak a deep voice sounded behind her.

‘Good morning, Sister. I’ve written up a sedative for Mrs. Histram. I don’t think you’ll have any further trouble with her this morning. We’ve had quite a friendly little chat, and she’s feeling much better about things already, aren’t you?’ he asked the question, confident of the reply.

Mrs. Histram did not disappoint him. Doctor Mark Stanton, R.M.O. of Wilborough General, was not an easy man to disappoint!

‘Yes, Doctor. Thank you,’ she said in a small voice which to the trained ears about her still held the strain of repressed emotion, of fear held, for the moment, completely under control. .

‘That’s fine.’ He patted her hand gently as he moved away. ‘We’ll have another little chat when you’re feeling better,’ he told her. ‘I know you’ll agree with me you’re going to feel fine in a very little while, and you’ll wonder why you didn’t come in sooner!’ He signed to Nurse Talbot to administer the prescribed sedative, then, speaking softly to Joy, proceeded with their tour of the ward.

There wasn’t anything else of a particularly alarming or worrying nature, and by the time Mark had left, Joy was feeling more herself—her usual capable self—the self she normally felt on duty, and less the bewildered and worried sister she had been earlier that morning. Why was it, she wondered as she turned to her desk and looked over the report sheets, it was always so much more difficult to nurse a member of one’s own family than a ward full of strangers, all with varying degrees of varying illnesses and post-operative or ante-operative conditions? There was no answer to the question she was asking herself, and as little Nurse Bagshaw began to push round the breakfast trolley, Joy forced herself to put all her home worries into the background of her mind and to concentrate on the task in hand.

CHAPTER II

The work on the ward went smoothly enough as Mrs. Histram gradually calmed down and became quiet. The remainder of the patients in the ward appeared to be, in some cases, equally gradual in their process of awakening. Some of them, as a few always were, seemed quite lively, others were not, as yet, quite so interested in all that was going on around them, but all were pleased by the Sister’s and the nurses’ obvious interest in their wellbeing, all of them responding in their varying ways, so that, as always, Joy felt that satisfying sense of contentment, fulfilment, in her chosen work as her day settled to a customary routine.

There were three new admissions into her ward that morning. A Miss Paling, a slight, frail and elderly spinster who reminded Joy instantly of another such patient she had nursed in this self-same ward some months ago. Little Miss Paling had been admitted with almost the identical form of heart trouble which had finally cost Miss Barnes her life. Joy turned away, after making certain her new patient was as comfortable as she could be, an ache in her heart as she read, without a word being spoken, the same story of loneliness and seclusion which had been written all over Miss Barnes’ face, until she had made a friend and confidant of Sister Joy Benyon.

The other two were much younger than the little spinster. Mrs. Bredon was a cheerful young matron who told Nurse Talbot in a shrill voice, which at Staff’s repressive glance she tried hard to tone down and failed, all about her ‘Timmy and the three bouncers’, as she referred to her husband and, apparently, her three young children. All, it appeared, were full of such exuberance and the joys of living one could almost imagine Mrs. Bredon was almost looking forward to the rest which would follow the thyroidectomy for which she had been admitted.
‘Mrs. Bredon should have been in Women’s Medical for her pre-operative treatment, Sister,’ Staff remarked, studying the patients’ bed card, ‘but they’re full to overflowing. Matron has had them put three beds in the emergency side ward, and you know she doesn’t like doing that unless she’s absolutely compelled to.’

Mrs. Bredon was settled quickly and happily and was soon chatting eagerly to her left-hand neighbour. The condition of her hair and skin, and her excess weight, all symptoms of her complaint, did not appear to be worrying her in the least, as with so many patients who had been admitted in like condition. Joy made a mental note to have a quiet word with Mark Stanton when he made his next round, or with the young house doctor, Philip Steadman, but newly arrived at the General. She turned away still wondering what Mrs. Bredon had dosed herself with to produce such a lighthearted top-of-the-world condition so unusual in someone in her state of health.

By the time Matron paid her normal morning visit to the ward, everything was under control. As she spoke with her usual crisp but courteous diction to Joy and to the staff nurse, title girl breathed a sigh of relief. It was not until then she allowed herself to realize just how much she had been hoping her late arrival—or near-late arrival—that morning had been passed unnoticed.

The mid-morning drinks trolley was on its way round the ward when a student nurse from one of the medical wards came quickly to where Joy was sitting, writing at her desk.

‘Matron says will you please come along to her office at once, Sister Benyon,’ she announced. ‘She asked me to say will you please not delay?’

. ‘Very well. Thank you.’ Joy blotted the page, screwed the cap back on to her pen and rose, casting a quick, all-seeing glance round her ward. Everything appeared in order. Even Mrs. Histram was now dozing peacefully. There could not have been anything wrong which had attracted Matron’s attention as she made her round, at least nothing to which she would not have made reference on the spot! No, Joy concluded with an inward sigh, whatever it was it must be applicable to herself alone! There was nothi
n
g to be gained by idle speculation, however, and Matron had specified that she wanted Joy there as quickly as possible, but as she walked briskly though sedately as became her position, along the corridor and down the stairs and along to Matron’s office on the ground floor, she searched her mind for possible causes for this summons to Matron’s office at this hour of a busy morning.

She could not think of a single thing for which she could be held responsible and which, in some way, although in what way she could not at the moment imagine, had offended Matron’s ideas as to what was right and proper in the conduct of one of the Sisters at the Wilborough General.

There was only one other thought in her mind. It was the thought that something disastrous might have happened to someone she held dear, to her mother, Lana or Cousin Emma or one of the twins, or even to Pete who had driven her to the hospital that morning.

It was fifteen years since an accident had robbed the little family of their father. Joy had been very young, but old enough to receive the impact of the shock which had left Aileen Benyon with two little girls at school age and the twins still babies to support and to bring up alone. It had been the same accident, a coach returning from London on icy wintry roads which had crashed badly, and which had robbed the youthful Pete Bradley of both parents at the same time. In spite of her own grief, Aileen Benyon had offered the boy a home with herself and her small family, just as soon as she learned he had no other relatives of his own. Pete had been with them ever since, sharing their sorrows as he had since then shared their joys.

Now, with Aileen out all day, working, Joy knew, far too hard and hurrying and scurrying about in her efforts to make certain elderly Cousin Emma was not overworked, Joy felt again that dreadful fear which always swept over her whenever she heard of any accident or disaster, staying with her, however busily her hands were employed, until she was assured that the little family circle was still intact.

She tapped lightly on the door of the office and in response to Matron s brisk invitation to enter, opened the door. Matron was seated at her desk, an elderly, reassuring gentleman facing her, a gentleman who rose at Joy’s entrance and who was promptly introduced to her as ‘Mr. Belding, a solicitor from Vanmouth’.

Matron motioned-Joy to be seated and, primly erect at her desk, began to speak.

‘Do you recall a patient by the name of Barnes, Sister Benyon? A Miss Muriel Barnes?’

‘Very well.’ Joy had a swift mental vision of the sweet-faced old lady she had grown to love so well. It was always a mistake to allow one’s personal emotions to become too involved where a patient was concerned, Joy knew. But there had been something ‘different ‘where little Miss Barnes was concerned. She had been so quiet, so anxious not to give any trouble, so meticulous in her personal habits and so considerate towards everyone else, that she had woven her way into Joy’s young heart.

‘I am Miss Barnes’—that is to say the late Miss Barnes’—solicitor,’ Mr. Belding informed her as Matron paused. ‘My firm has looked after the Barnes family’s interests for a matter of three generations.’

Joy made no comment, but Matron, who appeared to feel that this whole thing was wasting valuable time for one of her nursing Sisters as well as for herself, took up the story.

‘It appears that the late Miss Barnes has made you sole inheritor of what she had to leave, Sister,’ she said crisply. ‘Mr. Belding could not find your private address in any of Miss Barnes’ papers, and he could only contact you through the hospital. That is why he is here this morning.’

‘Miss Muriel was the youngest of three sisters, Sister Benyon,’ Mr. Belding told her. ‘She was also the last remaining member of her family. She has left you her house and its contents—a place named Fernbank, standing in a very nice garden of an appreciable size—and a letter, the contents of which I beg you to note most carefully, for she told me she was “entrusting Sister with her dearest possession” and although she has made no legal provisos as to what you do with your inheritance, I feel I must say that I personally hope you will respect her last wishes.’

‘Of course I will,’ Joy said, without in the least wondering what those last wishes might be. ‘I ... just don’t know what to say...’

‘Then Mr. Belding had better hand the letter over to you, Sister, and allow you to get back to your ward,’ Matron said briefly, her small smile touching the corners of her mouth for a moment.

‘And I would like your present address, Sister Benyon, if you will be so kind!’ Mr. Belding was not going to be hurried unduly. He had a certain task to perform and he intended to carry it through.

‘Of course.’

Joy looked round for something on which to write the required address, but Mr. Belding already had his notebook and pen ready. With a smile in response to his own friendly one, Joy told him the address and what times she would be home during the next few days, and with a sigh of satisfaction he held out an envelope which seemed to be packed by pages of a letter, packed so that the envelope flap seemed in danger of bursting open.

‘Miss Barnes talked to me quite a number of times before she was admitted to hospital,’ Mr. Belding said. ‘If she had not been staying in Wilborough when she became so very ill I should have been able to visit her in hospital too, but as it was,’ he spread his hands in a gesture of despair, ‘we have been overwhelmed with work at the office and my time has been fully occupied for a very long time. However, my dear,’ he went on, his tone as brisk as Matron’s own, and with an apparently sublime unconcern as to the fact that he might be in any way interfering with the cause of duty for someone else, ‘I do know she had various good causes very much at heart. Not, you must understand, in the form of special charities and so forth, but she took her responsibilities very seriously indeed, and it is these I feel almost certain she is handing on to you. Our articled clerk came here to see her on one occasion, I understand, and he said she pointed you out to him and said she was going to entrust you with the care of her “dearest possession”. That could refer to a number of things, but I do know she was dedicated to the cause of preserving the beauty and selectivity of Vanmouth.’

‘I see.’ With Matron on the other side of her desk obviously disapproving of this intrusion into hospital routine, Joy felt this was as much comment as she ought to make at this point. Impulsively she made a suggestion, not certain whether or not her mother would approve, but it was too late to think about that now.

‘Would you care to go to my home in Wilborough and have a meal with us, Mr. Belding?’ she asked. ‘I come off duty at half past four, and it takes me about half an hour to get home, but my sister and cousin are there and would make you very welcome, should you arrive before I do.’

‘That is most kind of you, thank you.’ Mr. Belding beamed on Joy and on Matron alike. ‘Is there any rule about my calling for you as you come off duty?’ he turned enquiringly in Matron’s direction. ‘We could travel together. I assure you I have been driving for nearly thirty years and so far have a completely clear licence! That would allow me to complete my business in this part of the town and we could talk on the way. There may be little points you wish to ask about...’

‘There’s no rule against your calling,’ Joy assured him, ‘and I shan’t keep you waiting.’

There was little more. Matron was obviously anxious that the meeting between Mr. Belding and Sister Benyon should now be terminated as quickly as possible, and in a very short time Joy was on her way back to her ward, the letter seeming to be burning a hole in the pocket of her apron.

She was met at the door of the ward by Staff Nurse Wilson. Marcia Wilson was a good nurse, and since Joy had been at the General they had seen many a crisis through together.

‘New admission,’ she said briefly. ‘Girl of eighteen. The usual story, I suppose, but she’s taken an overdose in an effort to “forget” ... she won’t forget the results of having taken it at all,’ she said crisply. ‘Nurse Talbot’s with her now. We’ve used the stomach pump and she’s going to be all right, but she’s not feeling any too good right now.’

‘I’ll take a look,’ Joy said, and walked across to the far end of the room where the girl lay, moaning quietly. She did not even attempt to look up as Joy bent over her, and after looking at the bed card, checking with Nurse Talbot and making certain everything had been done or was being done to give the unfortunate girl relief, she went back to her desk.

Lunch time seemed hours away, and the letter in her pocket crackled tantalizingly every time she moved. Little Miss Paling caught her eye and signalled that she would like to speak to Sister. Joy went across to the elderly woman, suddenly remembering how, just after she had first been admitted, Miss Barnes had looked at her just as appealingly and in much the same way.

‘Yes, dear?’ she said in her usual kindly tone. ‘Is there something I can do for you?’

‘I don’t suppose so, Sister.’ Miss Paling Sounded weary to the point of exhaustion. ‘I just want to know what I’m doing here. This is a ward for surgical cases, isn’t it? My own doctor said nothing about an operation to me...’ She began to sound quite worried.

‘And nobody has mentioned operating on you, Miss Paling,’ Joy assured her gravely. ‘The reason why you are in here is because the medical ward happens to be very full just at the moment. We’re crowded too, but a number of patients will be leaving the women’s medical tomorrow, I understand, and you’ll probably be taken over there. I see you’re here for observation,’ she added gently.

‘That’s what I understood,’ Miss Paling said fretfully. ‘Now I’m not so sure. But if
you
are sure, Sister, would it be any trouble if I asked to be allowed to stay here with you? Whoever is observing me or whatever you call it can surely do it just as well with me lying here in your ward as the one I saw down the corridor, can’t they?’

‘We’ll see,’ Joy smiled again, moving away, ‘but the beds in here will all be required for our new intake on Wednesday, you know. That’s the official day for admission to surgical wards here, unless it happens to be an urgent case, an emergency of some sort.’

‘Well, see what you can do, please, Sister. I’m funny in some ways, I know, but I sort of feel I can trust your face, and you can’t say that about the face of everybody you meet, can you?’