A Girl Named Rose

It was still light when they landed, and since the land was flat and the sky wide, she was able to see around her. She longed to ask what this was and that was, but her companion, beyond making sure that she was comfortable, had little to say. Only as they slowed to go through the lighted outskirts of Amsterdam, did he observe, “A very restful travelling companion—no girlish exclamations of delight, no endless questions about windmills and clogs, no demands to know when we should arrive. I must congratulate you, Nurse Comely.”

To which she made no reply at all.

Once through the suburbs, the city took on the enchantment she had remembered from her brief visit. The sky was clear and starlit, silhouetting the gabled houses against the deep blue above, and once they were away from the main streets, there were only the street lamps reflected in the canal water.

She hadn’t asked where they were going; she hoped just for a moment that they would go to his house first, but she was to be disappointed. They left the quiet old streets presently and turned back into the main part of the city. A short cut, she guessed, and knew that she was right when they turned into a wide courtyard with the hospital, quite unmistakable, beyond. Mr Werdmer ter Sane switched off the engine. “Well, here we are,” he observed quietly, and got out to open her door and usher her through the wide entrance.

There was no waiting about; he lifted a hand to the porter on duty and led the way to a row of lifts. They got out on the second floor and Rose followed silently as he trod unhurriedly a long wide corridor and through swing doors.

It was very quiet; there were wards on either side, their doors open and night lights burning and the shadowy figures of nurses going to and fro. Mr Werdmer ter Sane tapped on a door at the end of the corridor and went in.

There was a cot in the room, barely visible in the dim light, surrounded by all the impedimenta of post-operative equipment. Sitting side by side in chairs drawn up to the cot were two people. They turned their heads as Rose and Mr Werdmer ter Sane went in and the man got up. He was a big man, heavily built and tall, and he looked tired and very anxious.

“Sybren—you’ve made good time.” He looked at Rose and smiled. He was good-looking and his eyes were very blue. “And this will be our English nurse.” He put out his hand and then he put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Chrissy, now you will be able to sleep.”

The girl took her eyes from the small figure in the cot. Mrs ter Brandt wasn’t pretty, but her eyes were a lovely grey in a white face. She smiled at Rose.

“Thank you for coming.” She got up and offered a hand. “You’re from St Bride’s, aren’t you? The best nurse they have got, Sybren says. Little Duert will be all right now.”

Rose said comfortingly, “I’m sure he will and I promise you I’ll look after him, Mevrouw ter Brandt.”

The two men had turned aside to talk but presently Doctor ter Brandt said, “We’re going home now, darling— Sybren will take a look at Duert and explain things to…” He glanced over to Rose. “May I call you Rose? She will come on duty in the morning and you can phone her then and come and see Duert later in the day. And I promise you we won’t pull any wool over your eyes, darling.”

Rose saw the look which passed between them; loving and trusting and very understanding. It must be awful, she thought, as she wished them a calm good night.

Mr Werdmer ter Sane closed the door. “Now, before we find Night Sister and get you settled, let us go over the notes…” He gave her a sharp glance. “You are not too tired? There will be a meal for you presently, but this is too good an opportunity to miss.”

He went and looked at the unconscious child, examining him gently. “He’s no worse, but he’s by no means out of the wood. I want every smallest change noted and I want to be told at once. I’ll give you a phone number and you are to ring me without waiting to report to the ward sister. Tell her, of course, but I want to know first. You understand?”

Rose nodded. She was tired and hungry but since Mr Werdmer ter Sane didn’t appear to be either, she supposed she would have to forget that for the time being. He began to go over the case papers with her in great detail, and when he had finished, “You understand all that, Nurse? Have you any questions?”

“No, not at present,” she told him and he turned to ring the bell by the cot. “Night Nurse,” he told her, “while Duert and Christina are here she isn’t needed.”

The girl who came in quietly was big and fair-haired and pretty. She said something to Mr Werdmer ter Sane and smiled at Rose, who said “Hullo”, and offered a hand.

“Wiebeke—Rose,” he said briefly. He went on in Dutch so that Rose couldn’t understand but when he had finished he said, “I was telling Wiebeke that you will be on duty at seven o’clock in the morning. She speaks English but if you have any hang-ups for heaven’s sake give me a ring.” He turned back to the night nurse, saying over his shoulder, “Wait a minute, will you? I’ll introduce you to Night Sister.”

It was five minutes before he had talked to Wiebeke and taken another look at the child. Rose said good night to the other girl and followed him back the way they had come and into a small office. Night Sister was a large bony woman with a calm, middle-aged face. She got up from the desk as they went in, smiled at them both and asked in English, “This is our English nurse?” She shook hands and listened while Mr Werdmer ter Sane talked and then said, “We will go at once to the hostel, you must be tired, and tomorrow morning at seven o’clock we will see you here on duty. We are glad to welcome you, Nurse Comely.”

She glanced towards their companion. “You are going home, Doctor?”

“No, not just yet. I’ll wish you good night.” He nodded to them both and walked back the way they had come.

“He is anxious,” explained Night Sister, “he is—how do you say?—godfather to the little Duert. We go this way.”

Rose hardly noticed where they were going; she was famished and wanted a bed and a bath more than anything else in the world. It was several floors down and any number of passages before they went through a door and up more stairs leading to silent corridors lined with doors. Night Sister opened one. “Your room, Zuster Comely.”

Rose went past her into a small, nicely furnished room, very clean and bright. “I’m not a sister,” she said shyly. “Only a staff nurse.”

Night Sister laughed. “Ah, but here we call all nurses ‘Zuster’ and the sister is ‘Hoofdzuster’. The bathroom is at the end of this passage, there are six—but first someone will be coming very soon with your supper. And in the morning a nurse will show you where to go. You will be called at six o’clock.” She smiled again. “I hope you will be happy with us. Good night.”

Left to herself, Rose unpacked and then since her supper hadn’t arrived, undressed and got into her dressing-gown. She was brushing her hair when there was a tap on the door and a young woman came in with a tray. She nodded and smiled and put the tray on the writing-desk under the window and when Rose asked, “What shall I do with the tray?” giggled gently, shrugged her shoulders and went away.

The supper was all that she could have wished for: soup and savoury pancakes and a bowl of yoghurt and a jug of piping-hot coffee. Rose disposed of everything and crept down to the bathroom past the silent rooms. The water was hot and she lay for a while going over the events of the day, then mindful of the early start in the morning she got out reluctantly and presently was back in her room. A rather nice room, she thought drowsily, putting out the bedside light.

It seemed that she had only just shut her eyes when she was being gently shaken awake. A girl was bending over her and she sat up in bed, not sure where she was for the moment. The girl smiled. “You get up,” she said, and “I fetch you.” At the door she paused, clutching her dressing-gown about her. “Okay?”

“Okay,” said Rose and jumped out of bed.

She was fetched by a whole bunch of girls who shook hands in a friendly fashion and exclaimed over the old fashioned uniform St Bride’s nurses still wore. They bore her along with them, back down the stairs and into the hospital and then underground. The canteen was large and cheerful with tables for four or six and a long counter along one end. Rose, who was hungry again, was disappointed to see that there was only bread and butter and slices of cheese and great urns of coffee. Perhaps just as well, she decided, catching sight of the clock, there wouldn’t be time for any more.

Conversation was sparse but friendly at the table, because eating and drinking were more important than gossip and presently they swept her along once more and left her at the children’s unit.

Rose went in through the swing doors to the familiar sounds of shouts and cries and the general din made by a number of toddlers even if they weren’t so well. The office she had been taken to was close by, she tapped on the door and went in.

Night Sister was there, still on duty, and there was another, younger woman with her who got up from the stool she was sitting on.

“Nurse Comely. I am glad to meet you. I am the hoofdzuster of the ward and presently I will explain your duty times to you, but now I think it best if you go to relieve the night nurse, please. Mr Werdmer ter Sane will be in presently and he will wish to see you also.”

Rose went along the corridor and opened the end-room door. Wiebeke was sitting at a small table filling in the charts, but she looked round as Rose went in and beamed at her. “You have slept? Yes? We have had a good night. Duert is still unconscious. I tell you the report now?”

Wiebeke’s English was sometimes quaint, but understandable, besides the treatments and feeds and charts were the same as she was used to at St Bride’s, only in another language. When she had made quite sure that she had understood Wiebeke’s report, Rose bade her goodbye and set about her day’s tasks.

She had just finished giving Duert a nasal feed when Mr Werdmer ter Sane came in. His good morning was quiet and he went at once to look and having seen the child sat down to read through the reports and charts.

When he had finished he asked: “Have you anything to report, Nurse Comely?”

“Nothing more than is written there, Sir.”

He got up and went over to the cot. “Let’s see now…” He went over the small body very carefully, looking for some sign of awakening consciousness, and found none. Presently he straightened up. “I’ll be back presently,” he told her. “Mevrouw ter Brandt will be coming in this afternoon. I’d be obliged if you will be here when she comes; it will make things easier for her if she can talk to you.”

There wasn’t a great deal to do but she needed to keep the little boy under constant surveillance. She was relieved briefly for her midday meal and soon after she returned Christina ter Brandt arrived. Her husband and Mr Werdmer ter Sane came with her. They went to bend over the cot until Dr ter Brandt said quietly: “Sit down, darling, he’s doing as well as we hoped. Sybren and I are going to have a talk in Sister’s office. Shall I get someone to send in a pot of tea? You two girls can have a chat while we are gone.”

He laid a large comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder and smiled at Rose.

Left to themselves, Rose brought her stool close to the cot so that she could watch little Duert. “He’s a lovely boy,” she said in her pleasant voice. “Has he blue eyes?”

“Like his father’s.” Christina patted herself. “This one’s to be a girl with grey eyes like mine. I don’t mind what colour they are but Duert has set his heart on it.” She looked away for a moment. “You haven’t seen any sign at all?”

“Not yet,” said Rose gently, “it’s always a long business, isn’t it? We’ve had several like Duert at St Bride’s; they took their time but they all went home fit and well.”

Christina ter Brandt smiled rather shakily. “Bless you, what a comfort you are. You think he’ll—he’ll be none the worse?”

“Yes, I think that. I think Mr Werdmer ter Sane thinks that too.”

“He’s a tower of strength. You met him when you were on holiday?”

“Well, yes. I banged on his door because we were lost and there was a fearful storm and he very kindly gave us tea.”

“Who’s us?”

She wasn’t sure if her companion was listening, her eyes were on her small son, but Rose went on talking comfortably, anything was better than sitting in silence. “Sadie—one of my friends. She is a dear and very, very pretty—she is marvellous with children too. She and Mr Werdmer ter Sane got on awfully well…”

“And you don’t?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Rose remembered his opinion of her and went a delicate pink and Christina gave her a second look. “He’s not very easy to know,” she said casually, “plenty of girl friends when he has the time for them, but no sign of getting married. Did he fall for your friend Sadie?”

“Well, I think he might have done if they had seen more of each other.”

“I am glad it’s you…may I call you Rose? I think you are the sort of person who won’t get impatient if I burst into tears or have sudden hysterics.”

“Indeed I won’t.” Rose got up and eased the small body gently from one side to the other, took the pulse in the flaccid wrist, charted it and sat down again. A tray of tea was brought in then and Rose was asked to pour out.

“This is fun,” said Christina ter Brandt, taking her cup. “We’ve heaps of friends but I haven’t wanted to see any of them since—since…” She took a sip of tea. “But it’s great to be able to sit here with Duert and have someone to talk to who understands what’s happened to him.”

In a little while Dr ter Brandt came back, took another look at his little son, passed a gentle time of day with Rose and took his wife away.

They met Sybren in the corridor. “She’s a darling,” said Christina to him. “Do you know I feel quite different now she is here. She’s so sure he’s going to get better and so—so sensible and kind. When Duert is well enough to come home, she must come too, just for a bit,” and at his look of doubt, “don’t say it can’t be done because between the pair of you, you can do anything you’ve set your heart on.” She looked at her husband. “Duert, dear, please…”

He had an arm round her shoulders. “Provided Rose will agree, we’ll get her by hook or by crook.” He looked at his friend. “Well, what do you say, Sybren?”

“She is a good nurse and if you want her, we’ll arrange things.”

Christina said thoughtfully, “Would you rather have had her friend—what was her name—Sadie? Very pretty, Rose tells me. And a good nurse too.”

He smiled down at her. “Very pretty, but I don’t think we could better our Rose; unflappable and sensible and somehow slides into place without any fuss.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “We’ll have good news for you, Chrissy, just be patient.”

Rose was patient too; perhaps the small child’s life depended on her regular frequent observations, the careful taking of pulse, checking the slow breathing, the level of consciousness. She was relieved for her meals but that was all, but she had known that already; when she went off duty in the evening she had her supper and then went for a brisk walk, sometimes by herself, more often with one or other of the nurses. They were friendly girls but she had little time to get to know them. Wiebeke she saw morning and evening, but beyond giving each other the report they wasted no time. Little Duert’s life depended on constant observation until he regained consciousness and they both knew it. For the next few days nothing else mattered.

Christina ter Brandt came each day to sit by her little son’s cot and hold his hand while she talked to Rose. That she was happily married was evident, just as it was evident that she was whole-heartedly loved. Rose, after a few days, found herself liking her very much, just as she liked Dr ter Brandt. Two people such as they were deserved a miracle.

Mr Werdmer ter Sane came twice a day to study the charts carefully and examine his small patient. He had little to say to Rose although he was always pleasant and careful to enquire as to her welfare, enquiries she brushed aside just as pleasantly. She was beginning to feel the lack of exercise and change of scene but she had no intention of saying so.

It was on the fourth day, half way through the morning, that she noticed the faintest of movements and the little boy’s breathing changed slightly from slow and shallow to a steadier rhythm. She went to the phone in a flash and asked for Mr Werdmer ter Sane to come at once, and then whisked back to the cotside, taking another look before ringing Sister’s office. Only there was no one there to answer. Rose went back to the cot, took down the side and perched close to the small form. It seemed to her that the level of unconsciousness was lighter even in those few minutes. She stroked the little hand she was holding and began to sing very softly: nursery rhymes, one after the other, and was rewarded by the flicker of an eyelid. When the door opened and Mr Werdmer ter Sane came quietly in, she flapped a hand at him and went on singing “Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle”. She had a small high voice a little breathless now with excitement. “The cow jumped over the moon,” she went on, aware that he was standing behind her.

The cherub in the cot opened two astonishingly blue eyes, said sleepily “lickle dog”, and closed them again.

“Oh, my goodness me,” said Rose in a whisper. She took the large hand on the counterpane beside her and gave it a squeeze, quite unaware of what she was doing. But only for a moment; she dropped it like a hot brick and stood up, to recite very accurately exactly what had occurred.

Mr Werdmer ter Sane grunted and bent over the little boy who stirred under his gentle touch and then opened his eyes again. He said something in Dutch and straightened to his great height again. “I do believe we’re coming out of the wood, Rose.”

Very much to her surprise he bent and kissed her cheek. “Good girl.” He went to the phone and made several calls and very soon Sister was there as well as his registrar. The three of them talked quietly and then the two men examined the child very gently. Rose stood a little apart. Sister was there, handling things and dealing with their needs and there was nothing for her to do. Sister and the registrar went presently and Mr Werdmer ter Sane asked her to stay by the cot while he phoned and then presently he gave her careful instructions and went away too.

There was little enough to do; only watch carefully and carry out the usual nursing chores. It was half an hour later that he came back and this time he had the ter Brandts with him.

Rose didn’t say anything; indeed they weren’t aware of anyone else except the little boy in the cot. She slid away to the desk at the window and turned her back and was surprised when Mr Werdmer ter Sane joined her.

There wasn’t anything much to see; a variety of gabled roofs and an enormous number of chimney pots and above them, a wide pale blue sky. She stared out at them and wished she could think of something to say and presently he went away again without having uttered a word, back to the cot at the other side of the room and now it was Christina beside her.

“Rose, oh Rose, you don’t know how happy I am. Oh, my dear, we’re so grateful and thankful.” She turned a tear-stained face to her. “We’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“But I haven’t done anything,” said Rose, feeling awkward.

“Oh, yes, you have. You’d made up your mind that little Duert was going to get better and you’ve had no off-duty and you’ve had your eyes on him all the time. That was clever, singing the nursery rhymes. Sybren says he’s not out of the wood yet but it’s time and careful nursing. You’ll stay, won’t you? I can’t nurse him myself, but I know he is safe with you.”

“Of course, I’ll stay. I am so happy for you and your husband, you must be in the seventh heaven. And I’ll take great care of him, I promise you, and Wiebeke is wonderful, you know. You’ll be able to sleep at night now.”

“Yes, oh yes.” Christina looked up at her husband who had just joined her. He smiled a little at her and then looked at Rose. “We are in your debt for the rest of our lives, Rose.”

When they had gone she took up her station by the cot again. Perhaps there would be days ahead when not much progress would be made, but it was a start. She took Duert’s hand in hers once more and started to sing “Ride a cock horse” in her soft little voice.

Mr Werdmer ter Sane, coming back up the corridor, paused to listen outside the door. He frowned heavily, aware of annoyance because Rose, that most uninteresting of girls, disturbed him. A pity that Christina had set her heart on having her back home when little Duert was well enough to leave hospital. Hopefully, she wouldn’t need to stay long.

CHAPTER THREE

THERE WAS a steady improvement in little Duert; he slept for the greater part of the day, but the intervals of wakefulness lengthened and by the end of a week he could be lifted carefully on to his mother’s lap when she came to see him. No permanent brain damage, Mr Werdmer ter Sane assured her, little Duert was going to be perfectly all right. Even now, he pointed out gently, he was smiling at his mother and father and talking a little. Time and patience, he counselled Christina. Rose wasn’t sure if he was quite so hopeful with Doctor ter Brandt although there was nothing in the men’s manner to betray their thoughts; she knew it was important to keep Christina happy and at the same time no attempt was made to pull the wool over her eyes; the little boy was indeed making progress but he still had a long way to go and she didn’t relax her watchfulness one particle.

It was at the end of a sunny afternoon, when the ter Brandts had gone home, that Mr Werdmer ter Sane came back to talk to her. Rather to her surprise he wanted to have her opinion of little Duert’s progress.

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