When May Follows

Nurse James had come back with the news that there was a major accident just in and there was no one available right away. ‘Never mind, Nurse—Sir Benjamin is here, so we’re all right. Now go to theatre, will you…’ She passed on Uncle Ben’s wishes and turned back to the patient. He was semi-conscious by now and the bandages and dressing were off. ‘Dear, dear,’ observed Uncle Ben in his mildest voice. ‘Apply pressure, Sister, will you? Raf, can you get at it with the forceps while I swab?’

Professor van Tellerinck, in waistcoat and shirt sleeves, somehow contrived to look elegant despite the messy job he was doing. He was very efficient too; Katrina’s head was almost fully occupied with what she was doing, but a tiny corner of it registered that fact, and another one too, that she was pleased to see him again, which seemed strange since she hadn’t liked him over-much. Probably it was just relief at his timely help. He hadn’t spoken to her, indeed, she wasn’t sure that he had even looked at her; in the circumstances that was to be expected. He had found the slipped ligature and had put on a Spencer Wells and the two men were carefully checking that there was no further trouble.

Uncle Ben unbent slowly. ‘Something big in the Accident Room, did I hear Nurse say? In that case, Raf, be good enough to give me a hand, will you?’

The theatre trolley and the two student nurses arrived together. Katrina told one of them to go with the patient to theatre and with the help of the other nurse, started to clear up; it took some time to get everything clean and ready for the man’s return and it was time for the nurses to go off duty when they had done. Katrina sent them away and greeted the night nurses with the suggestion that they should get started with their evening routine while she got down to the report. She had written it, read it to the night staff nurse and was back in her office when the patient came back, and because the two nurses were changing a dressing and there was no one else available, she saw him safely back into his bed, still groggy from the anaesthetic. She was checking the drip when Uncle Ben arrived and wanted to know why she was still there and when she explained, he gave a snort of impatience and walked off to the Office to telephone.

Katrina hadn’t realised that the Professor was there too, standing quietly watching her. His silence was a little unnerving, and, as she knew that despite the fact that she had cleaned herself up as best she could she looked a mess, her pretty features assumed a haughtiness which sat ill upon them.

‘I wouldn’t have believed it,’ observed the Professor suddenly. ‘When we met I assumed you to be a young lady of leisure with nothing more on her mind than the latest fashions and the current boy-friend.’

She gave him a cross look and said peevishly: ‘Indeed? Just as I was amazed to find that you were a surgeon.’

He looked amused. ‘Oh, should I look like one?’

She ignored that. ‘I had the strong impression that you did nothing at all.’

‘Oh, dear—we seem to have started off on the wrong foot, don’t we?’

Several rather pert answers flashed through her tired mind. Luckily she had no opportunity of uttering any of them, for Mr Crewe, his supper pint already forgotten, was demanding more beer. ‘Excuse me,’ said Katrina austerely, and went into the ward to do battle, telling the junior night nurse to stay with the man until he was quite round from his anaesthetic. She subdued Mr Crewe quietly but briskly, did a quick round to wish her patients goodnight and went back to the Office, where she tidied her desk and thought about the Professor. She had to admit that she had been surprised to discover that he was a surgeon, he had given all the appearance of the man of leisure and she had gained the impression, quite erroneously, as it had turned out, that he was—well, lazy, at least easygoing, but he had done a very neat job without fuss. And so he ought, if he’s anything of a surgeon, she muttered to herself as she swept the last lot of papers into a drawer, yawning widely as she did so; it had been a long day.

And not over yet, it seemed. Uncle Ben, coming in as she was on the point of going out, stopped her with a brisk: ‘Finished, Kate? You’ll have had no supper, I’ll be bound—I’ll take you back with me for a meal. Go and clean yourself up and be downstairs in ten minutes.’

Professor van Tellerinck had followed her uncle. He was leaning against the wall now, smiling a little, which needled her so much that she said far too quickly. ‘That’s awfully kind of you, Uncle Ben, but I can get something on my way to the home. It’s far too late to bother Aunt Lucy. Will the man do?’

‘I think so. We found another slipped ligature, but he’s well and truly tied now. By the way, I asked Night Sister to send someone along to keep an eye on him for a few hours. Now hurry up, girl, or your aunt will nag me.’

Katrina chuckled. Aunt Lucy was a dear little dumpling of a woman who had never nagged anyone in her life; she had the kindest of hearts and a sunny disposition and spoilt Uncle Ben quite shamelessly.

‘All right, I’d love to come if I won’t be a nuisance.’

She parted with the two men at the ward doors, sternly recommended by Uncle Ben not to be more than the time he had stated, and not quite sure whether she should say goodbye to his companion or not. She compromised with a social smile and a little nod.

She showered and changed into a silk blouse and a pleated skirt and topped them with a thick knitted jacket. With her hair unpinned from the rather severe style she wore under her cap, and hanging about her shoulders, she looked prettier than ever, but she wasted little time on either her face or her hair. With barely a minute to spare she raced through the hospital to the front entrance, to find Uncle Ben there and the Dutchman as well. She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or annoyed about that, but she was given no time to decide. Uncle Ben caught her by the arm and hurried her across the courtyard to fetch up beside a Bentley Corniche.

Katrina, breathing rather rapidly because she had had to hurry, and looking quite magnificent, let out a loud sigh.

‘Uncle Ben, is it yours? It’s super!’

‘Don’t be a fool, my dear, it’s Raf’s.’

She glanced at the Dutchman and found him watching her, his sleepy eyes alert beneath their lids. She said rather lamely: ‘Oh, how nice,’ and watched his smile as he opened the door and ushered her into the front seat. Probably he drove abominably, she told herself as Uncle Ben made himself comfortable in the back and the Professor got behind the wheel. But he didn’t, he drove superbly, placidly unconcerned with the traffic around them, taking advantage of every foot of space, using the big car’s power to slide past everything else. Katrina allowed herself to relax thankfully and just for a moment closed her eyes.

‘Never tell me you’re tired,’ murmured the Professor in a hatefully soft voice, ‘a great strapping girl like you.’

‘I am not…’ began Katrina in a strangled voice, and stopped; he was trying to make her lose her temper, and she wasn’t going to. ‘You’re not exactly a lightweight yourself,’ she observed sweetly.

‘For which I am profoundly thankful,’ he assured her. ‘I like to look down on my women.’

‘I am not,’ said Katrina in a furious rush, ‘one of your women!’

‘Oh, no, you don’t resemble any of the girls I know—they’re slim and small and mostly plaintive.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ she snapped, ‘if they know you.’

He had a nice laugh. ‘I think we’re going to enjoy getting to know each other, Kate.’

They were in Highgate Village now, close to Uncle Ben’s house, and as he slowed and stopped before its gate she had what she hoped was the last word. ‘Think what you like, Professor van Tellerinck, but I have no wish to get to know you.’

He only laughed again.

CHAPTER TWO

UNCLE BEN’S HOUSE was a Regency villa standing in its own immaculately kept garden, well back from the road. Aunt Lucy flung the door wide as they got out of the car and began to speak almost before they had got within earshot.

‘Katrina, how lovely—your supper’s waiting for you. Ben dear, how fortunate that it was something I was able to keep hot. Raf, you must be famished!’

She bustled them through the hall and into the sitting-room, furnished with easy chairs and sofas and a number of small tables, loaded down with knitting, books and newspapers. ‘Mary’s just dishing up—you’ll have time for a drink.’

Katrina had her coat whisked from her and was sat in a chair and a drink put into her hand. ‘Ben said on the phone that you’ve had a busy evening,’ went on Aunt Lucy, happily unaware of what the business entailed. ‘I was a bit put out when the men were called away just as we were about to sit down to table, but this makes up for it. How is your dear mother?’

The men had taken their drinks to the wide french window at the end of the room after responding suitably to Aunt Lucy’s greeting, and now she cast them an indulgent glance. ‘I suppose they’ll mull over whatever it was for the rest of the evening, which means that we can have a nice gossip.’

Aunt Lucy’s voice was soothing and the sherry gave Katrina an uplift she badly needed, and by some domestic magic conjured up by the cook, the meal which they sat down to presently was delicious. Katrina, thoroughly famished, fell to with a good appetite, avoiding the Professor’s eye and only addressing him directly when he spoke to her.

Which wasn’t often, and then with a casual politeness which she found annoying, despite the fact that she had decided that she really didn’t like him at all. She was taken completely off guard presently, when, dinner over and coffee drunk in the sitting room, she murmured to her aunt that she would have to go. The two men were standing together, discussing some case or other, but the Professor interrupted what he was saying to observe;

‘I’ll run you back, Katrina.’

‘There’s no need, thank you—I’ll get a taxi.’

‘I have to go back anyway to pick up some instruments.’ He spoke blandly, ignoring her reply, and Aunt Lucy at once backed him up.

‘Well, of course, if you’re really going that way—so much nicer than a taxi at this time of night, Kate—someone to talk to, as well,’ she added happily.

Katrina thought of that remark ten minutes later, sitting beside the Professor in the Bentley, trying hard to think of some topic of conversation. She scowled horribly when he observed placidly: ‘Considering that it will be April in a few days’ time, the evenings are surprisingly chilly.’

‘Why are you in England?’ asked Katrina, not bothering with the weather.

‘Interested? I’m flattered. Your uncle and I are old friends—he knew my father well. When I come to England I like to see him.’

Which hadn’t answered her question. ‘You’re a surgeon, too?’

‘Yes.’ He turned the car into the hospital yard and parked it. ‘No, stay there,’ he told her, and got out and opened the door for her. ‘Such a pleasant evening,’ he murmured. ‘Goodnight, Kate.’

She suspected that he was amused about something again. Her goodnight was civil but nothing more. Going slowly up the stairs of the nurses’ home to her room, she reflected that she wouldn’t see him again and was surprised at her glum feelings about that. She had hoped, with conventional politeness, that he would enjoy the rest of his stay in England, and all he had said was that he was quite sure that he would.

‘Oh, well,’ she said crossly as she opened her door, ‘who cares? I shan’t be seeing him again, anyway.’

She saw him the very next afternoon. It had been a simply beastly morning, with Mr Knowles doing a round of his six beds and spinning it out to a quite unnecessary length of time, so that dinners were late, nurses didn’t get off duty on time, and Katrina herself had had to be content with cheese sandwiches and a pot of tea in the office. And if that wasn’t enough, she had been waylaid by Jack Bentall, one of the house surgeons, and badgered into a reluctant promise to go out to dinner with him in a couple of days’ time. Despite the fact that she had never encouraged him, he waylaid her on every possible occasion, making no secret of his feelings, even allowing it to be bruited around that she was quite bowled over by him. Katrina had never lacked for invitations; she was a delightful companion and sufficiently lovely for men to like to be seen out with her, but she had never taken any of them seriously. For one thing, as she had pointed out so many times to her mother and sisters, she was so large…

But Jack Bentall didn’t seem to mind that; he was a rather short, thickset young mam, and conceited, and nothing Katrina could say would convince him that she didn’t care two straws for him. Usually she fobbed him off, but today she had been tired and put out and had lost some of her fire, and even though she regretted it bitterly already, she was far too honest to invent an excuse at the last minute. But it would be the last time, she promised herself, as she gobbled up the sandwiches and went back to the ward.

The nurses were tidying beds before the visitors were admitted and had prudently left Mr Crewe until the last. They had just reached him as Katrina opened the doors and her ears were assailed at once by his voice raised in anger. ‘A pint ain’t enough,’ he bellowed. ‘I wants me usual—’alf an alf an’ a couple more ter settle the first pint.’

‘You’ll be lucky,’ observed Katrina,’ and I thought you wanted to go home? Here you are lying in bed—if you’re not well enough to sit out in your chair, Mr Crewe, then you’re not well enough to have a pint of beer. You promised me…’

‘Pah,’ said Mr Crewe grumpily, ‘I want ter go ‘ome.’

‘Yes, I know that, Mr Crewe, and I promised you that you should go a day or two earlier if you kept your side of the bargain—which you’re not.’

Mr Crewe opened his mouth to say, ‘Pah,’ again and changed it to, ‘Oo’s that—I see’d ‘im yesterday…’

He was staring down the ward, for the moment forgetful of his beer. ‘Big chap,’ he added, and Katrina’s head, before she could stop it, shot round to take a look. Professor Baron van Tellerinck, no less, coming round to take a look down the ward with unhurried calm. He wished her good afternoon gravely, and just as gravely greeted Mr Crewe, who said rudely: “ullo—’oo are you?’

‘A colleague of Sir Benjamin,’ the Professor told him equably, ‘and as I have business with Sister I’m sure you will do as you are asked and sit in your chair and—er—keep quiet.’

And much to Katrina’s astonishment, Mr Crewe meekly threw back the bedclothes and got into the dressing gown one of the nurses was holding.

‘You wished to see a patient?’ asked Katrina, at her most professional.

‘Please. Sir Benjamin can’t get away from theatre at present, he asked me if I would check up on Mr Miles.’

She liked him for that; so many surgeons came on to the ward and asked: ‘Sister, I’d like to see that gastric ulcer you admitted,’ or: ‘How is that lacerated hand doing?’ for all the world as if the ward beds were occupied by various portions of anatomy and not people.

‘He’s coming along nicely,’ she observed, quite forgetting to be stiff. ‘His BPs down and he’s eating well. We’ve had him out of bed for a little while this morning.’

The Professor spent five minutes or so with the patient, expressed himself satisfied with his progress, wished him a polite good day, and started up the ward towards the office. ‘If I might just write up the notes?’ he enquired, and when she opened the door and then turned to go: ‘Please stay, Sister.’

So she stayed, waiting silently while he scrawled on the chart, added his initials and then got to his feet. ‘Doing anything this evening?’ he asked her.

‘Me?’ she was so surprised that she had no words for a moment. ‘I’m off at five o’clock,’ she added stupidly.

‘Yes, I know that,’ and when her eyes looked a question, ‘I looked in the off duty book on my way in,’ he explained blandly, and waited for her to answer.

‘Well…’ she paused. ‘It’s very kind of you, but I’m not sure…’

He interrupted her: ‘That’s why it would be a good idea if we got to know each other,’ he observed placidly. A remark which left her totally bewildered, and before she could answer: ‘There’s a rather nice place in Ebury Street we might go to—a bistro, perhaps you know of it?’

She shook her head, still trying to think of something to say.

‘La Poule au Pot, although you might prefer to go somewhere else?’

She found herself saying just as meekly as Mr Crewe had acted: ‘It sounds very nice. Is it a dressy place?’

He smiled, ‘No, I think not,’ and watched her, still smiling while one corner of her brain was turning over her wardrobe for a suitable dress. ‘I’m sure you’re thinking that you’ll have nothing to wear, women always do, don’t they? I’m equally sure that you have. Shall we say seven o’clock at the entrance.’

He smiled again as he left the office, leaving Katrina to wonder if she had actually said that she would go out with him. She didn’t think that she had, but it was a little too late for that now.

She got off duty late; it had been that sort of a day, and her nerves were jangling with a desire to allow her ill humour to have full rein, instead of having to present a calm good-tempered face to patients and nurses alike. But a leisurely bath did her a power of good, by the time she had found a dress to her liking—a sapphire blue silk jersey, very simply cut—done her hair in a low roll round her head in an Edwardian hair-style, and got into a pair of high-heeled black patent shoes, she felt quite herself again. She picked up a velvet jacket and took a last look at herself in the mirror. For some reason she wanted to look nice this evening; she had told herself that it was because she didn’t like the Professor, which to her at least made sense in a roundabout way, and at least, she told herself as she started downstairs, she could wear high-heeled shoes without being in danger of towering over her escort.

She was ten minutes late, but he was waiting for her with no sign of impatience, only smiled gently as he glanced at her from hooded eyes.

‘Ah, the wardrobe wasn’t quite empty, I see.’

Katrina found herself smiling too and uttered her thought out loud without thinking. ‘You have no idea how nice it is to go out with someone who’s taller than I—even in low heels I loom over most people.’

He glanced down at her elegant feet on their three-inch heels. ‘I have the same difficulty, only in reverse; I find it so tiresome to bend double each time I want to mutter sweet nothings into my companion’s ear.’

‘Well, you won’t need to worry about that,’ declared Katrina sharply.

‘Oh, I wasn’t,’ he told her silkily as he opened the car door. ‘I need only bend my head to you, Kate.’

She peeped at him to see if he was laughing, but he looked quite serious and she frowned; it was a remark which she found difficult to answer, so she said nothing, but got into the car, to be instantly lulled by its comfort as they edged into the evening traffic, and her feeling of pleasure increased as they went along; it was decidedly pleasant to be driven in a shining black Bentley towards a good meal. Moreover, the Professor was laying himself out to be pleasant, talking about nothing much in an amusing manner; she almost liked him.

She wondered later, as she got ready for bed, what exactly she had expected of their evening, but whatever it was, it hadn’t happened. Her host had been charming in a coolly friendly way and they had talked… She stopped to remember what they had talked about—everything under the sun, and yet she knew nothing about him, for he had taken care not to tell her anything and when she had asked from which part of Holland he came, he had said merely that his family came from the north—Friesland, but he lived within striking distance of Leiden. Whether he was married or no, she had no idea, and although it had been on the tip of her tongue to ask just that, she had stopped herself just in time. She had, she reflected as she brushed her hair, absolutely no reason for wishing to know.

The restaurant had been charming, cosy and warm, with blazing fires at either end of the quite small room and soft candlelight to eat their dinner by. And the food had been delicious; smoked salmon, noisettes d’agneau Beauharnais with artichoke hearts and pommes de terre Berny, followed by a purée of sweet chestnuts with whipped cream. Katrina smacked her lips at the thought of them and jumped into bed. They had sat over their meal and it was past midnight now, but the evening had flown and when she had said goodbye to him at the hospital entrance, she had felt regret that it couldn’t last longer. Perhaps, she mused sleepily, she rather liked him after all. ‘Such a pity,’ she muttered, ‘because I’ll never know now; he didn’t say he wanted to see me again. I expect he was being polite because he knows Uncle Ben.’

If the Professor was being polite then he was carrying it to excess. He accompanied Uncle Ben on his round the next day and when Katrina escorted them to the ward door and took a formal leavetaking of them, he asked her, with Uncle Ben looking on, if she would care to go to the theatre with him that evening.

Katrina’s mouth was forming ‘No,’ even as her heart sang ‘Yes,’ but she had no chance to utter, for Uncle Ben said at once: ‘What a splendid idea—just what you need, Kate, after a hard day’s grind.’ He asked the Professor: ‘What’s on?’

‘I’ve got tickets for The King and I.’ The hooded eyes were on Katrina’s face. ‘That is, if Kate would like to see it?’

A show she had wanted to see more than anything else, but how could he possibly know that?

‘Going all tarted up?’ enquired Uncle Ben with interest.

‘Er—I thought we might have supper and perhaps dance afterwards.’

My almost new organza, thought Katrina wildly, and those satin sandals. Aloud she said: ‘Well, I don’t know…’

‘Rubbish,’ said Uncle Ben stoutly. ‘You know you like dancing, Kate.’

The two of them stared at her without saying anything more, so that in sheer self-defence she said: ‘Well, it would be nice…thank you.’

‘Half past seven at the entrance,’ said the Professor briskly. ‘We’ll just have time for a drink and a bite to eat before the theatre.’

She asked meekly: ‘And am I to come all tarted up?’

‘Oh, definitely—that’s if you feel like it…’ He was laughing at her again, although his face was bland.

‘Well, that’s settled, then,’ declared Uncle Ben. ‘Raf, there’s that woman I want you to see—the accident that came in during the night…’

Katrina excused herself and left them deep in some surgical problem. She had problems of her own; it was so much simpler to either like or dislike someone, but with the Professor she was unable to make up her mind. Most of the time, she had to admit, she liked him very much, but every now and then he annoyed her excessively. She went back into the ward and found to her annoyance that Jack Bentall had come in through the balcony doors and was doing a round with Julie. He had, he explained carefully, one or two things to write up for Mr Knowles and could he use her office for a few minutes, and as Julie left them: ‘You haven’t forgotten that we’re going out tomorrow evening?’ he asked her, looking quite revoltingly smug. She had, but she was too kind-hearted to say so.

He was disposed to linger, hinting at the delights of their evening out so that she had to draw his attention to several jobs awaiting her. He had looked at her like a small spoilt boy and said grumpily: ‘Oh, well, don’t let me keep you…’

She wished with all her heart that she had refused his invitation in the first place. She had been a fool, but there was no help for it, she would go, but for the last time, she promised herself, and then forgot all about him, going from one patient to the next, adjusting drips, checking dressings, making sure that BPs had been taken on time.

She was a little absentminded at dinner time and her friends wanted to know why, and when she shook her head and denied it, Joan Cox from Women’s Surgical said vigorously: ‘I bet our Kate’s got herself a date with that super man who’s doing the rounds with Sir Benjamin,’ and the entire table gave a howl of laughter when Katrina went a delicate pink.