A Girl in a Million

Caroline went, feeling anxious about little Marc and rather put out since her off duty had been changed—and she had agreed to go to the pictures on the following evening with Janey and several other of her friends.

She yawned her way into a bath and, despite her concern for the little boy, went to sleep at once.

Marc was still there when she went on duty in the morning; she had been half afraid that he wouldn’t have survived the night but there he lay, looking just as before, with Mr van Houben checking the tangle of tubes around the bed, calculating the drip and then taking a sample of blood from the small hand lying so still on the very white coverlet. He turned to look at Caroline as she went in. ‘Ask Sister Crump to come here, will you, Nurse? You’re taking over here?’

‘Yes, sir.’ She sped away to fetch Sister Crump and then con the charts with the nurse she was to relieve. He had looked at her, she thought sadly, as though he had never seen her before.

It was two days later, halfway through the morning, that Marc’s hand, lying in Caroline’s, curled gently over. For a moment she couldn’t believe it and then she wanted to shout for someone to come, press the panic bell, do a dance for joy… Her training took over; she sat quietly and waited and sure enough within a minute or so his hand turned again, a graceful languid movement as though it were returning to life. Which of course it was.

She did press the panic bell then. Sister Crump got there first.

‘He moved his hand in mine—twice,’ said Caroline.

‘The good Lord be thanked,’ said Sister Crump. The two other nurses had arrived. ‘One of you ring Mr Spence or his registrar—one or other is to come at once. The other nurse to go back to the ward.’

The nurses went and Caroline said softly, ‘Look, Sister.’

The small hand was moving again, curling round her thumb.

Mr Spence had just finished his list in Theatre and he still wore his Theatre kit as he came soft-footed to stand by the bed, followed by his registrar.

‘Give your report, Nurse,’ said Sister Crump.

Which Caroline did, trying to keep the quiver of excitement out of her voice. Put into a few sparse words it didn’t sound much, but as she spoke Marc lifted his arm very slightly as though he wanted to make himself more comfortable. ‘Eureka,’ said Mr Spence softly. ‘Someone get hold of Mr van Houben.’

He wasn’t in the hospital, although he had left a phone number where he could be reached. It was two or three hours later by the time he entered the room, looking calm and unflustered, giving no indication that he had been driving hell-for-leather down the M1 from Birmingham where he had gone to give his opinion concerning the anaesthetising of a patient with a collapsed lung and a tracheotomy into the bargain.

It was at that moment that Marc opened his eyes, blinked and closed them again.

‘Too soon to carry out any tests,’ said Mr Spence. ‘Another three or four hours—do you agree?’ When Mr van Houben nodded, he added, ‘We’ll be back around four o’clock, Sister.’ His eye lighted on Caroline, sitting like a small statue, not moving. ‘You are to stay with Marc, Nurse.’

Which made sense; she had seen the very first movements, and she was in a better position to gauge his progress or deterioration than anyone else coming fresh to the scene. All the same, she hoped that someone would bring her a cup of coffee before Mr Spence returned.

They did better than that. A tray of tea and sandwiches was brought and arranged where she could get at it without disturbing the child, and, besides, Sister Crump was in and out every hour or so. Marc hadn’t moved again; Caroline had charted his movements carefully, noting with delight that his temperature had come down a little. Certainly his pulse was steady.

She was stiff and cramped by the time the men came back. Mr Spence said, ‘Good—take over, Sister, will you?’ And watched while Caroline withdrew her hand, only to have it clutched again.

‘You’d better stay; we don’t want him disturbed in any way.’

A silly remark, thought Caroline, watching the gentle poking and prodding, the tickling of the small feet with a pin, the meticulous examination for pupil reaction, for Marc was disturbed, making small fretful movements and wriggling at the touch of a pin. But of course that was what they had hoped for: all the signs of a return to consciousness. The three men and Sister Crump bent over the bed and Caroline sat on a hard chair out of their way. She was happy about little Marc; it was the nicest thing which had happened to her for a long time. Mr van Houben must be over the moon, she reflected, although it was too early to tell if there would be lasting damage to little Marc; he had a long way to go still… Feeling selfish and uncaring, she longed for a cup of tea. At such dramatic moments cups of tea and feeling tired were not to be considered.

Little Marc had fallen asleep again—natural sleep now, not a coma—and the men were still discussing further treatment. It was Sister Crump, her eyes lighting upon Caroline’s small person in a corner, who exclaimed, ‘Go off duty, Nurse, I’m sorry you’re late. You’ve missed your tea—go to the canteen and see if they’ll boil you an egg or let you have your supper early. You missed your lunch?’

Caroline nodded and stood up. The men were writing now, absorbed in their problems. She whispered, ‘Good evening, Sister,’ and slipped out of the room and down the ward and out on to the landing beyond before anyone had a chance to say anything to her. Presumably the nurse to relieve her was already waiting; Sister Crump would be there to brief her. She made her way down to the canteen and found no one there, something she had half expected, for tea had been finished hours ago and first supper wasn’t until seven o’clock. All the same she went up to the counter in case there was someone beyond it in the serving-room.

‘No good your coming in here, Nurse. You know as well as I do that there’s nothing to be had between meals. Supper’s at the usual time; you’ll just have to wait.’

So calmly Caroline went away again, back up the stairs to the ground floor; she would make a pot of tea and take off her shoes and sit and drink it and then, tired though she was, get into a coat and go for a brisk walk. The streets round the hospital were shabby and houses down at heel, but it had been a grey April day and dusk cast a kindly mantle over them. She didn’t much care for a walk in such surroundings, but fresh air and exercise seemed more important than any other consideration.

She started along the corridor which ran at the back of the entrance hall and then stopped with a small gasp when she was tapped on the shoulder.

Mr van Houben, unhurried and as always, immaculate, was at her side. ‘When did you go on duty, Nurse?’

‘Ten o’clock, sir.’

‘You have had no off duty?’

‘I’m off now,’ she told him and added, ‘sir’ as she started off again.

‘Not so fast. Did I hear Sister Crump say that you have had no proper meal today?’

‘I have had sandwiches and coffee…’ She stopped to think—it seemed a long time ago.

‘Yes, yes—I said a meal.’

‘I shall go to supper presently.’

‘You deserve better than that. I’m hungry too; we’ll go and find somewhere to eat.’

‘We’ll what?’ She goggled at the sight of him, her mouth open like a surprised child. ‘But you can’t do that…’

‘Why not?’ he asked coolly. ‘I am not aware that I am restricted in my actions by anyone or anything.’

‘Well, no, of course you’re not. I mean, you don’t have to bother, do you? But it really wouldn’t do, you know. Important people like you don’t take junior nurses out to dinner.’

‘You are mistaken, we aren’t going to dinner. Go and put on a coat and some powder on your nose and we will go to the Bristling Dog down the street and eat sausages out of a basket.’

He didn’t wait for her reply. ‘And comb your hair,’ he advised her kindly as he gave her a gentle shove in the direction of the door to the nurses’ home. He added, ‘If you aren’t back here within ten minutes I shall come and find you.’

‘You can’t…’ He must be light-headed with hunger, she decided, or in a state of euphoria because Marc had shown the first tentative signs of recovery.

He said coldly, ‘Can I not?’ and gave her a steely look which sent her through the door and up the stairs to her room.

He had said ten minutes and he had undoubtedly meant what he had said. Caroline had never changed so fast in her life before. She raced out of her room and almost fell over Janey.

‘Hey—where are you off to?’ Janey made a grasp at her arm.

‘I can’t stop,’ said Caroline breathlessly, ‘he said in ten minutes…’

She raced down the stairs and Janey, five minutes later, told those of her friends who were in the sitting-room that Caroline had gone out with a man.

‘Good for her,’ said someone. ‘It’s time she had some fun.’

If Caroline had heard that remark she would have felt doubtful about the fun. Mr van Houben was waiting for her, looking remote, almost forbidding, and she very nearly turned tail and went back through the door. The prospect of a good supper was a powerful incentive, however, and she went to where he was standing and said quietly, ‘Well, here I am, Mr van Houben.’

He stood for a moment looking down at her. She had got into the first thing which had come to hand, a short jacket over a thin sweater and a pleated skirt, and, because ten minutes hadn’t been nearly long enough, her hair, though tidy, had been pinned back ruthlessly into a bun instead of its usual French pleat, and there had been even less time to spend on her face.

Mr van Houben laughed inwardly at his sudden decision to take this small unassuming person out for a meal. It had been triggered off by the sight of her sitting by little Marc; she had been the one who had first seen his faint stirrings and acted promptly, but no one had so much as spared her a smile and she had been sent off duty without so much as a thank-you. She must have longed to share their triumph and relief. He was a kind man; at least he could make up for that by giving her a meal.

He said with impersonal friendliness, ‘You hadn’t anything planned for this evening?’ As he ushered her through the doors and out into the forecourt.

She answered him in her sensible way, ‘No, nothing at all.’

He took her arm as they crossed the busy street. ‘No boyfriend to disappoint?’ He was sorry he had said that for, looking down at her in the light of a street lamp, he saw the look on her face and to make amends he added, ‘I should imagine that there is little time for serious friendships while you are training. Plenty of time for that once that’s done with! You might like to travel—there are quite a number of English nurses in our bigger hospitals in Holland.’

He eased the conversation into impersonal channels until they reached the Bristling Dog, where he urged her into the saloon bar, half filled already, mostly by elderly couples and a sprinkling of younger people, most of them eating as well as drinking, and several, Caroline noticed, from the hospital.

Mr van Houben sat her down at a small corner table and fetched the well-thumbed menu card from the bar. It held a surprising variety of food, but Mr van Houben had suggested sausages… ‘Sausages and chips, please,’ she told him, anxious to fall in with his own wishes.

‘Splendid,’ he said, and with unerring instinct, ‘and a pot of tea?’

He was rewarded with her smile. ‘That would be nice.’

The food came, hot and tasty, and with it a pot of tea and thick cups and saucers. Caroline poured out and handed him his cup. It was strong, and even with milk and sugar he found it unpalatable. All the same, he drank a second cup because it was obvious that Caroline expected him to. He was rewarded by her sweet smile and the observation given in matter-of-fact tones that a cup of tea was a splendid pick-me-up when tired.

Over the last of the chips he asked her what she thought of London. ‘You live here?’ he asked casually.

‘No, I live with my aunt at Basing—that’s near Basingstoke. I go home twice a month.’

‘The English countryside is very charming,’ he observed, and from then until they returned to the hospital they talked about it, and the weather, of course, a conversation which gave him no insight as to her likes and dislikes. She was a sensible girl with nice manners and a gentle way with her, and he was surprised to discover that he had rather enjoyed his evening with her. He bade her goodnight in the entrance hall and listened to her nicely put thanks and didn’t tell her that he would be returning to Holland in the morning. Marc’s father, recalled from a remote region of South America where he was building a bridge, would be installed with his wife and baby daughter by now, and Mr van Houben could return to his own work with a moderately easy mind.

He watched her go through the door at the back of the hall and made his way to the children’s wing where he found Mr Spence, his brother Bartus and Sister Crump, who quite often stayed on duty if she saw fit.

‘Very satisfactory,’ said Mr Spence. ‘We’re not out of the wood but there’s plenty of movement. You’ll be over again?’

Marius van Houben nodded. ‘In a few days, just a flying visit.’ He put a large hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘You’ll stay with Emmie until we know how things are? As soon as he’s fit, perhaps we could get him back home with a nurse but that’s early days yet…’

‘A good idea all the same,’ agreed Mr Spence. ‘Familiar surroundings may be the answer.’

‘I’m going along to Theatre to collect up my equipment, I’ll give you a lift back, Bartus—see you at the car presently.’ He bade Mr Spence goodnight with the remark that he would see him before he left the next day, and with a last look at his small nephew he went away. Sister Crump caught up with him as he reached the end of the ward. It was very quiet, the children slept and the night nurses were sitting in the middle of the ward at the night table, shadowy figures under the dark red lampshade.

‘I’m sorry you’re going,’ said Sister Crump in a whisper. ‘Marc wouldn’t have pulled through without your expertise.’

She wasn’t praising him, just stating a fact. ‘I don’t like to lose a patient.’

‘He has had splendid nursing care.’

‘Yes—they’re good girls.’ She frowned. ‘I hope that child had a meal—I should have made sure. She went off duty very late too.’

Mr van Houben smiled down at her worried face. ‘She had sausages and chips and a pot of the strongest tea I have ever been forced to drink.’

‘You? You were with her?’

‘We met in the entrance hall and I happened to be hungry too.’ He opened the door, ‘Goodnight, Sister.’

Sister Crump went back to Mr Spence. She was smiling widely but she rearranged her features into suitable severity as she joined him.

Caroline was pounced upon by Janey on her way to the bath. ‘Where have you been?’ demanded her friend. ‘And who with? And why were you in such a hurry?’

She had been joined by various of Caroline’s friends and one of them added, ‘Have you been out to dinner?’

‘No—just the Bristling Dog.’

There was a concerted gasp. ‘But nurses don’t go there. Whoever took you there and why didn’t you tell him?’

‘Well, I didn’t like to—I suppose he can go where he likes and if I was with him it wouldn’t matter.’

‘Who?’ They hissed at her from all sides.

‘Mr van Houben.’

One of her listeners was doing her six weeks in Theatre. ‘Him? That marvellous man who came specially to give the anaesthetic for Marc? Caroline, how did you do it? We’ve all had a go at him…’

‘He asked me if I was hungry and when I said yes, he said he was too.’

‘Oh, love,’ said Janey, ‘you were wearing that jacket you’ve had for ages, the one that doesn’t fit very well across the shoulders.’

‘He told me to be ready in ten minutes or he’d come and fetch me. I hadn’t time…’

Her friends groaned. ‘What did you eat?’

She told them. ‘And a pot of tea.’ She thought for a bit. ‘And we talked about little Marc and the weather and how flat Holland is…’

‘He won’t even remember you,’ groaned Janey. ‘Why didn’t you tell him that you would like to go out to a splendid meal at the Savoy or something? He might have taken the hint.’

‘I didn’t think of anything like that. I mean, I don’t really think that anyone would want to take me to the Savoy.’ Caroline was quite matter-of-fact about it. ‘Least of all someone like him.’ She hitched up her dressing-gown. ‘I’m on early.’

When she got back to her room there was a note waiting for her telling her to report for duty at ten o’clock instead of half-past seven. A nice surprise, and she switched off her alarm clock and went quite contentedly to sleep.

By the time she arrived on the ward in the morning, Mr van Houben had been to see Marc, bidden goodbye to Sister Crump and left the hospital. He had, for the moment, quite forgotten Caroline.

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