The Fortunes of Francesca

He dined presently, changed and went out again, this time to an evening party given by one of his colleagues. He knew many of the guests there. All of them were pleasant people, leading pleasant lives—the men in one or other of the professions, the women well-dressed, amusing, able to carry on a witty conversation. He didn’t know any of them well and was unaware that he was liked. He got on well with the men and was charming to the women, but the charm hid a reserve none of them, so far, had been able to penetrate.

He left early with the plea that he needed to go back to St Giles’ to check his latest patient—something which disappointed several of the women there who had made up their minds to beg him for a lift to their home.

He thought about them as he drove back towards the City. They were all delightful companions, and a delight to the eye, so why were their elegant images dimmed by the tiresome Franny with her dowdy mac and damp, untidy hair? He supposed that he must feel sorry for her. He smiled to himself; she wouldn’t thank him for that. She needed no one’s pity; she was one of those tiresome people who bounced back…

Auntie and Finn were in the sitting room, one with his head bowed over his books, the other silently knitting. They both looked up as she went in.

‘Did I hear a car?’ asked Auntie.

‘Yes. A Rolls-Royce. That doctor—he’s a professor—saw me as I came out of a solicitor’s office in the City and gave me a lift.’

‘Why were you there, dear?’

Franny explained. ‘But I didn’t enjoy the ride very much. I expect he was tired after a hard day’s work. He was a bit snappy. I suppose he felt that he simply had to give me a lift once he’d seen me.’

‘Which Rolls was it?’ asked Finn.

‘Well, it was a Rolls-Royce. Aren’t they all the same?’

‘Not by a long chalk. What’s his name, this professor?’

‘Van der Kettener—he’s Dutch. Perhaps that’s why he’s so testy…’

Finn gave her an exasperated look. ‘You only had a lift with one of the best heart surgeons in Europe. He was mentioned in a lecture the other day, goes all over the place, operating and lecturing, but spends a lot of time here. He’s honorary consultant in several hospitals. Lives in Holland. You lucky girl.’

Finn went back to his books and Auntie said mildly, ‘Well, that’s nice, isn’t it, love? Such a clever man, no doubt, and yet sparing time to bring you home.’

‘Pooh,’ said Franny. ‘With a car like that it couldn’t have been a bother. I don’t suppose he ever has to queue for a bus or get his own breakfast.’

‘You don’t like him, dear?’

She thought about that. ‘I think I’m sorry for him. He was ever so—so remote. Perhaps he’s quite different at home, with his wife and children. I wonder if they come over here with him, or do they live in Holland?’

She glanced at the clock. ‘Heavens, is that the time? I’ll get the supper. Macaroni cheese.’ She paused in the doorway. ‘I was going to make a cheese pudding, but the macaroni is quicker. Pay day tomorrow—I’ll get fish and chips.’

Finn gave a satisfied grunt, but Auntie sighed for the days when things had been different. Not that she wasn’t grateful for this poky little house in the wrong part of London, and her pension and the company of Franny and Finn. She had been a widow when they had come to live with her, and they had just lost their parents.

If only she hadn’t fallen ill and Franny hadn’t had to give up her nursing training to look after her and Finn. They had had plans for the future—Franny, once trained, would have found a post at some hospital in a country town, they would have lived in a small flat and managed very nicely, while Finn trained to be a doctor. With him living on his grant and any money Franny could spare, they would have made a success of things.

As it was now, they were in a cleft stick. Their combined savings were at a low ebb and there was no hope of Franny going back to the hospital; she had had to find this job where she could also cope with the house, the shopping and the cooking. Auntie had been warned that her doing anything other than the lightest of tasks might have serious consequences.

The house, which they all secretly hated, had been offered to her at a very low rent after her husband died, by his firm, and, since there had been nothing else to do, she had accepted the offer.

Her husband, a scientist, had had a good job and they had lived pleasantly in a pretty little mews cottage in Islington. But he had been so absorbed in his work that mundane things such as life assurance or saving for a rainy day had been overlooked. Auntie had never blamed him for that—he had been a good husband—but she was thankful that they had had no children.

She put down her knitting wool and went to the kitchen to lay the table for their meal. She didn’t feel very well, but there was enough for them to worry about without fussing over her. She said cheerfully, ‘Tell me more about this professor—he sounds interesting.’

The next day, pay day, was the bright spot in Franny’s week. One of her duties was to go to the bank each week, collect the money for the wages and hand over the little envelopes to the staff. She hadn’t liked the idea of handing Barker’s wages over to him; she left his envelope on the desk in her little office. It was an old-fashioned way to be paid, money in an envelope, but somehow much more satisfying than a cheque. Feeling rich, she bought the fish and chips on the way home.

They enjoyed their supper and Auntie went to bed early. ‘And don’t fuss,’ she begged Franny. ‘I’m only a little tired.’

Franny skimmed around the kitchen, tidying it and putting everything ready for breakfast while Finn finished his studies and took himself off to his room. Once he had gone, she gave the sitting room a good clean. It was almost midnight when she went to bed and she slept at once.

She woke suddenly a couple of hours later, aware that something had disturbed her. There was a faint sound coming from her aunt’s room. She got out of bed, crossed the narrow landing and opened the door.

Auntie was lying in bed, her face grey with pain and beaded with sweat. Franny lifted her very gently onto her pillows, wiped her face with a handful of sheet and said quietly, ‘Lie quite still, Auntie. Finn will get the ambulance; you’ll be all right—just hang on. I’ll be back in a moment.’

Finn, once roused, was out of bed at once, putting on his clothes.

‘Use the phone box at the end of the street,’ said Franny urgently. ‘Tell them it’s very urgent; hurry.’

She went to her room, fetched her clothes and dressed in her aunt’s room, fearful of leaving her, praying that the ambulance would be quick.

It was, and the paramedics were very competent. They wasted no time but loaded Auntie into the ambulance and Franny, leaving Finn in charge of the house, got in with them.

They worked on Auntie as the ambulance sped through the quiet streets.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Franny.

‘No beds at St Thomas’s, nor Charing Cross or the Middlesex. There’s a bed at St Giles’.’

It seemed for ever before they reached the hospital but, once there, there was speed and efficiency. Surprisingly, there were no other patients in Casualty. Having given particulars in a quiet voice, Franny was told to sit and wait while Auntie was wheeled away to a cubicle at the other end of the vast place. There was a lot of coming and going then, and she longed to know what was happening behind the curtains, but she sat still, her hands folded in her lap, staring at the wall before her, not seeing it, trying not to think.

It was some time before a nurse came to tell her that her aunt was rallying under treatment. ‘Sister will come and speak to you in a minute. Would you like a cup of tea?’

Franny shook her head. ‘No, thank you. It doesn’t matter if I stay?’

‘No, of course not. Here’s Sister coming now.’

Sister was young and briskly kind. ‘Your aunt is improving, but until several tests have been done I can’t tell you any more. She will have to be admitted, but you would have known that. It is most fortunate that the senior consultant heart surgeon is in the hospital, seeing another patient. He’s on his way down now. If anyone can do anything for your aunt, it is he.’

She went away again, and presently Franny heard fresh voices and then silence, except for a murmur from time to time. Please, God, let Auntie pull through, she begged silently. And she shut her mind to a future full of problems; never mind them, just as long as Auntie got better.

Night work, thought Franny desperately. Finn would be home at least for the next few months; she could get a job, any job, which left her free during the day. She didn’t need much sleep; she could shop on the way home, settle Auntie and tidy up the house and have a sleep during the afternoon…

Someone was coming towards her, disturbing her chaotic thoughts. It was Professor van der Kettener, looming large and calm and somehow reassuring. She sat up straight and said, ‘Hello, Professor,’ in a tired voice.

He stood looking down at her. How this girl dogged his footsteps, he thought. As usual she was looking rather the worse for wear. It was understandable, of course, in the circumstances, and her hair, hanging down her back in a pale brown tangle, bore witness to the fact that she had dressed in a tearing hurry. But she was looking up at him with a brave, hopeful face.

He sat down beside her. ‘Your aunt is gravely ill. She has an atrial septal defect—I’ll explain that presently. It can be put right with open heart surgery. Before that is done there are a number of tests to be carried out to confirm those which have been done now. She will be admitted into one of my beds and in due course I will operate. It is a serious operation, but she is a resolute lady, isn’t she? If all goes well I can see no reason why she shouldn’t return to a normal life.’

He looked at her. ‘You do understand what I am saying?’

‘Yes, thank you. Is she to be warded now? May I see her first, before I go home?’

‘Certainly you may. Come with me.’

She went with him and he held the curtains back for her as she went into the cubicle. Auntie was conscious. She looked small and very frail, but she smiled at Franny.

‘What a fuss and bother,’ she whispered. ‘So sorry, love.’

‘You’ll be comfy in bed very soon, Auntie, and you’re going to be well again. Professor van der Kettener says so. I’m going home now but I’ll be here tomorrow—in the afternoon, I expect. I’ll bring the things you’ll need with me.’

She bent and kissed her aunt and went back through the curtains to where the professor was waiting, talking to the sister. There were porters already there, with a stretcher and trolley, and a nurse and a young doctor.

Sister turned to look at her and said kindly, ‘Would you like a cup of tea now? Do you have far to go?’ She glanced at the clock. ‘It’s almost four o’clock. I dare say there’ll be a night bus… Or have you someone you can phone to come for you?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, Sister. May I come tomorrow afternoon?’

‘Of course. Go to Reception, and they’ll tell you where your aunt is. Have we got your phone number?’

‘We haven’t a phone. I’ll ring about eight o’clock.’

Franny smiled vaguely at them both and turned away, but was brought to a halt by the professor’s firm hand.

‘I’m going your way; I’ll drop you off.’

He kept his hand there while he exchanged goodbyes with Sister and had a word with the young doctor who had come across to speak to him, and only then took it away.

Going out of the casualty entrance, Franny said uncertainly, ‘But I’m not on your way. Besides, you have been up almost all night, haven’t you? You must be tired. I can get a taxi…’

He took her arm and trotted her across the forecourt to his parked car.

‘Don’t talk rubbish. Have you any money with you?’

‘No.’

‘So stop making difficulties where there are none. Get in, do!’

She got in and he closed the door on her, got in himself and drove off through the quiet streets. It was very dark and, save for the milk floats and an occasional car, the streets were empty. In another few hours they would be teeming with traffic.

The professor drove without speaking, but his silence didn’t bother Franny—indeed, she was glad of it. She was tired but there would be a good deal of arranging to see to. She tried her best to think sensibly about that, but she wasn’t very successful.

Her muddled thoughts were disturbed finally by the professor.

‘When you get home, have a warm drink and go to bed even if it is only for an hour or so. Later on you’ll find you can think clearly again. And don’t worry too much about the future. One thing at a time. Is there anyone at home now?’

‘My brother.’ She needed to add to that, ‘He’s a medical student, just started.’

‘Good.’ They were crossing Waterloo Bridge, and in a few minutes she would be home. ‘I’ll come in with you, if I may?’

She couldn’t think why he wanted to do that, but she was too weary and worried to think about it. She said politely, ‘I dare say you would like a cup of tea.’

He stopped outside her home, got out and came to open her door. Finn was waiting for them on the doorstep.

The professor nodded at him. ‘You don’t mind if I come in for a few minutes?’

‘No, no, of course not, sir. Franny, is Auntie OK?’

Franny looked at the professor. ‘You tell him. I’ll put the kettle on.’

A little later they sat, the three of them, round the kitchen table with mugs of strong tea and a packet of Rich Tea biscuits, and the professor won a lifelong devoted friend in Finn because he treated him as an equal while he explained exactly what needed to be done for Auntie. He spoke with self-assurance and cheer, promising nothing but offering hope, and Franny, listening to his quiet voice with its almost imperceptible accent, took heart. Then he paused to say, ‘Would you not like to go to your bed? I’ll be off in a few minutes.’

He stood up and she got to her feet, wished her goodnight and thanked her for his tea.

‘It was very kind of you to bring me home,’ said Franny, her eyes huge in her tired face. ‘I hope you will go home to bed, too. And do drive carefully.’

He told her gravely that he would.

Franny tumbled into bed after setting the alarm for eight o’clock. Though it was Saturday, she’d been summoned to be at Lady Trumper’s by ten o’clock. At all costs she must carry on with her job there. They were going to need every penny she could earn…

Before she dropped off to sleep she remembered what the professor had said about one thing at a time. She would do that.

At eight she got up and found Finn already in the kitchen, making toast. He looked up as she went in and gave her a cheerful grin. ‘Auntie’s OK. Resting, they said.’

‘You went to the phone box?’

‘No. Professor van der Kettener is quite a man, isn’t he? Left me his mobile phone. Told me to keep it until we got sorted out.’

He took it from his pocket. ‘See? We can phone the hospital whenever we want to.’

Franny was overcome with gratitude and a warm, comfortable feeling that someone was helping them, but, she added to that, only until they could help themselves.

She looked much as usual when she presented herself in Lady Trumper’s sitting room. Opening Lady Trumper’s post, Franny was thankful that it was Saturday. She would go to the hospital in the afternoon, and later she and Finn would sit down together and decide what was best to be done.

Lady Trumper, voice raised impatiently, wanted to know why she was so slow. ‘And you look as though you haven’t slept. I hope you’re not one of those girls who burns the candle at both ends?’

Franny held her tongue. Her head ached and she was deeply worried about Auntie. A good cry would have helped, preferably on an understanding and reassuring chest. The professor would have done very nicely, only he didn’t like her.

CHAPTER THREE

AUNTIE was holding her own. Franny sat beside her bed in the intensive care unit, holding a limp hand and making cheerful remarks from time to time so that Auntie could see that she wasn’t worried about anything at all. And Auntie dozed, waking every now and then to ask anxious questions in a small, breathy voice.

Professor van der Kettener had been to see her that morning, Sister told Franny, and had been pleased with her condition. There were to be more tests but, if they were satisfactory, he would operate as soon as possible.

‘And afterwards?’ Franny asked. ‘I mean, will my aunt be in need of constant nursing? Could she be left at all?’

‘There should be very little nursing needed, and I would suppose that she could be left safely for quite long periods.’ Sister looked at Franny. ‘What kind of work do you do, Miss Bowen?’

‘Well, at present I work for someone during the day, but I wondered if I should get a night job. I’ve got a brother who is still living at home, so he could be there at night and I’d be home during the day. I know I’d have to sleep for part of the time, but Auntie would know that she wasn’t alone.’

‘That seems quite a good idea. Are you trained for anything?’

‘I’ve had two years’ training as a nurse, but I gave it up to look after my aunt and run the house. I had to be home, you see…’ Franny added cheerfully, ‘I manage quite well and I’ve no doubt we can arrange something later on.’

‘There is no possibility of going back to hospital?’

‘Not for the moment.’

Sister said thoughtfully, ‘Perhaps we might be able to get your aunt a bed in a long-stay hospital.’

‘She would die,’ said Franny simply. ‘Besides, she has given my brother and me a home, and now it’s my turn to look after her.’ She added firmly, ‘Everything will be all right, Sister, and I’m so happy to see her looking better. May I come again tomorrow? I’ll bring my brother with me.’

That evening, sitting over their supper, she and Finn laid their plans. It would be three weeks before Auntie could return home.

‘So I’ll stay with Lady Trumper for as long as possible,’ said Franny, ‘but in the meantime I’ll look for a night job—perhaps a nursing home not too far away. The pay won’t be too bad; we can manage.’

Finn began, ‘I could get a job—’

‘No, dear, that’s the last resort, and things aren’t all that desperate.’

Which wasn’t quite true, she reflected uneasily, what with the gas bill due to be paid and the rent, modest though it was, to be paid, too. And food. Franny thought that she could save quite a bit on that. Finn needed a good cooked breakfast, but she could tell him that she was slimming. Just for a while, she told herself, until she could get some money saved.

‘We could write to Uncle William,’ suggested Finn.

‘Him? I’d rather die, and you know you would, too.’

‘But he was our mother’s brother—he can’t still be angry because she married Father. It’s years ago…’

‘Yes, but he swore that he never wanted to see her again and he would have nothing to do with us when they were killed in that accident. He always thought that Mother had married beneath her, although of course that wasn’t true. And remember how badly he has treated Auntie, just because she went to their wedding and kept in such close touch?’

‘But now Auntie is so ill surely he would help her?’

‘Finn, until we are absolutely desperate, I want nothing to do with Uncle William. He’s mean and disagreeable. When Mother and Father died and Auntie wrote and told him, he sent her letter back torn into little pieces. It’s a pity that Father hasn’t any family still living.’

She began to collect up the supper dishes. ‘You are not to worry, Finn, everything’s going to be all right.’

She didn’t tell him that she had called in at the supermarket on the way home and got herself a job stacking shelves from eight o’clock until ten each evening.

Christmas was near enough for a demand for casual labour. They’d been only too glad to take her on and, when she explained that she might have to give up the job quickly, they had agreed to that too. The money wasn’t much, but if Auntie was going to be in hospital for at least three weeks she could save every penny of it.

It was several days before Sister told her that her aunt was considered fit enough for an operation.

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