Once For All Time. Betty Neels

as if she were to blame.

      ‘You could marry an heiress,’ she suggested tartly. It frightened her a little when he didn’t answer her.

      He hardly spoke for the rest of the journey, but let her out at the hospital entrance, put her case inside the door, said briefly that he would see her later on, and drove off.

      ‘He’ll get over it,’ she muttered as she went over to the Nurses’ Home. ‘It’s the surprise after being so sure.’ She went into her room and found that someone had put flowers in a vase on her dressing table and laid out her uniform ready for the morning, and before she had time to unlock her case, Fiona came in with tea, strong and dark and well sugared.

      ‘Hullo, love,’ she said cheerfully, ‘we’re all so glad to have you back. Your Staff’s been out of her mind, says nothing on earth will ever induce her to take a Ward Sister’s post!’

      She refilled their mugs and went to sit down in the bed beside Clotilde.

      ‘Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, okay, but if you do, we’ll all listen and help if we can—you know that, don’t you? We kept our heads down because Bruce will have been with you. I heard him telling Dr Thackery that he was seeing you every day and helping you get things sorted out.’

      Clotilde took a long breath. ‘Oh? It was nice of Dr Thackery to enquire.’

      Fiona gave her a puzzled look. ‘Well, he sent all those messages via Bruce, you must have had them. I expect you’ve had so much to do you’ve forgotten.’ She hesitated. ‘We were wondering—when you have days off, if you’d like one of us to come with you, just for a bit, you know.’

      Clotilde’s hard-won calm broke, she gave a great sniff, too late to stop the tears. ‘Oh, you are dears, all of you. I can’t think of anything I’d like better. There’s an awful tale to tell you, but if you don’t mind I’ll wait a bit.’

      Fiona poured more tea. ‘Drink up, love. You talk when you want to and not before, see? Now you’re going to wash your face and powder your nose and we’re taking you out to supper. Tomorrow’s time enough to go to the dining room.’

      Clotilde had half expected Bruce to give her a ring, even to arrange to see her, but there was no word. She went with her friends and ate the supper they ordered for her, then went to bed and, strangely, to sleep.

      Breakfast was something of an ordeal, but once she had taken the plunge it wasn’t too bad, and the ward, once she was back on it, hadn’t changed all that much. A few new faces and no Mrs Perch, but Miss Knapp was still there, having had a few bad turns hours before she was due for discharge.

      Clotilde sat in her office, reading the reports for the last week, listening to Sally and gradually gathering the reins together again.

       ‘And it’s Dr Thackery’s round,’ Sally reminded her.

      ‘Good lord, I’d quite forgotten! Is there anything special I should know?’

      She was brought up to date, given a cup of coffee and told not to worry. ‘He’s been an utter darling,’ said Sally. ‘I mean, all sorts of things went wrong because you weren’t here, but he never said a word. Would you like me to come with you when you do your round?’

      ‘Yes, please. Thank heaven we don’t have such a quick turnover as the surgical side.’

      ‘More coffee?’ asked Sally, and then: ‘I’ve not said anything, Sister, but we’re all ever so sorry, only we thought you’d rather not talk about it just yet.’

      ‘You’re all very kind—and you’re quite right, Sally, I don’t want to talk about it for a bit. Coming back to work will help enormously.’

      Clotilde did her round, picking up the threads easily enough so that when the ward doors opened and Dr Thackery and his team came through them, she was as calm and cool as she always was, only her pretty face was far too pale, and there were shadows under her eyes; very unhappy eyes.

      He greeted her quietly, for all the world as though they had never met other than on the ward. He made his unhurried way from bed to bed and finally went to her office as he always did, to have his coffee and talk over anything he saw fit to discuss. Dr Evans, as usual, hung on every word he uttered, looking adoringly into his face, something which he quite obviously didn’t notice. He got up at length, nodding goodbye and strode off to Men’s Medical, leaving Clotilde feeling vaguely hurt.

      She tidied the papers on her desk and told herself briskly that she was being sorry for herself, and that was a waste of time. I’ll feel better when I’ve seen Bruce again, she decided, the uncertainty of not knowing just how he felt was doing her no good at all. If only he would come!

      The door opened and she looked up, thinking like a child that her wish had been granted. It was Dr Thackery.

      ‘I’m glad to see you back,’ he told her. ‘What’s the matter, Clotilde? Johnson told me you were fine, making plans for the future, that he was seeing you each day. What’s wrong?’

      She stared back at him, determined not to cry. He looked so kind and understanding and she had to talk to someone. After a moment she said stonily: ‘Everything’s gone wrong, but if I tell you now, I’ll start to howl.’

      He smiled faintly. ‘In that case, we’ll make a date, shall we? When are you off?’

      ‘At five o’clock.’

      ‘I’ll be outside at half past five. Do you want to bring Johnson along too?’

      ‘No, oh no—you see, it’s partly to do with him.’

      Ah, just so!’ There was a gleam, quickly hidden in his eyes. ‘We’ll talk later.’

CHAPTER THREE

      SEVERAL TIMES during the course of her busy day, Clotilde regretted her impulsive remarks to Dr Thackery. What a spineless creature he would think her, a great grown woman who had been holding down a job for some years, not even very young and inexperienced. Besides, wouldn’t it be disloyal to Bruce to discuss their affairs with him? On the other hand, she needed advice badly and Mr Trent, although sympathetic, was too old. And it wasn’t just for herself she needed help, there was Bruce to consider—his whole future might be at stake, and then there was Rosie, safe for the moment, but in two or three months’ time she would have to find a home—and Tinker. She tried her best not to think about it as she went through her ordered day, serving dinners, the medicine round, the sudden emergency of old Mrs Brooks having what she called one of her spasms, and which was, in fact, a heart attack. Making out lists for clean linen, diets, off duty, smoothing out the hundred and one creases in the fabric of the ward’s day. She went off duty feeling tired and dispirited and wishing very much that she could go to her room and stay there, undisturbed. But of course, she couldn’t do that; Dr Thackery had been kind and helpful when she had needed both kindness and help desperately and she owed it to him to keep their date. She showered and changed into her grey flannel suit, applied make-up in a perfunctory fashion and went down to hospital entrance.