Fay did not really mind into what realm he had disappeared so long as their paths did not cross again. She could feel fairly secure now, she thought. Once away from Beechcroft their worlds were not likely to come into orbit again, and for that she was devoutly thankful She was even glad that she knew him by no other name than Mark—she did not know his real surname, and anyway he probably had a professional one. "So far as I am concerned," she told herself firmly, "he just does not exist."
At the porter's desk she was directed to the Matron's office. There she had to wait in the secretary's outer office while a procession of nurses came and went.
Fay regarded them with interest. They were very like the girls back home—very like what she herself had been a few short years ago. Their reactions to a summons to Matron's office was much the same too, she thought with a smile as she noted the change from apprehension to relief as the girls entered and left the inner room.
Last of all came a young houseman who went in with a very red face but came out with a wink for the secretary and a long, appraising glance for the stranger sitting in her office.
"Matron will see you now, Miss Gabriel," she was told after a few moments, and without any apprehension at all she entered the inner sanctum.
She was a little disquieted, however, to note that the woman behind the gleaming desk was quite young and attractive. In Fay's experience the battleaxe type of Matron was in the long run easier to work with.
"Good morning, Miss Gabriel—sit down, please," the incisive tones matched the voice and the quick glance which seemed to size up all there was to see in one brief instant. It seemed to Fay that the Matron did not altogether like what she saw. She waited while the older woman perused a sheaf of notes she had taken from her desk.
"Yes—I see." After a lengthy pause the Matron addressed her again. "You have come from the Commemoration Hos-
pital in Australia, Miss Gabriel. Now do you mind telling me why?"
It was not a question she had expected, but Fay had no difficulty in answering. "I had risen as high as I could hope to do in my profession. I knew I should have to mark time over some years as a Ward Sister, so I thought it would be as well to get in as much experience as I could. Back home we always regard the London hospitals as the nursing Mecca, so I thought I would apply for a post over here—especially as my parents were English and I had always wanted to visit this country."
"You have relations over here, then?"
"Not really. Mrs. Travers—"
"Ah yes, Mrs. Travers sent you to me, didn't she? Well, I must say that your credentials are excellent—really excellent. Of course I shall be glad to have you on my staff, but—" she paused for a moment to study Fay's appearance again, "it seems that in Australia Ward Sisters are appointed at a much earlier age than is customary over here. I cannot put you in charge of a ward at the moment—"
"Of course not, Matron," Fay agreed. "I shouldn't expect or even want that. I shall have a lot to learn, I expect, about your ways and administration over here. I should be very happy to work as staff nurse."
"Good. I see that you say you are particularly interested in the surgical side. You will be working on the Anderson Ward—pediatrics," she finished uncompromisingly.
The Matron pressed a switch on her desk and spoke to her secretary. St. Edith's might be housed in old-fashioned buildings, but from the appointments of the office
Fay
gathered that the equipment was of the latest design. "Please ask Home Sister to come to my office."
While the call was being made and answered, Matron had not taken her eyes from a close scrutiny of
Fay
's whole person. Fay knew that her testimonials were exceptional, but she felt nevertheless that she did not quite measure up to the Matron's requirements, and wondered where she fell short. The next few remarks began to give her a clue.
"Have you many friends in this country, Miss Gabriel?" "None at all—except Mrs. Travers," Fay told her.
The older woman nodded. "Ah, yes. You will find that there are excellent facilities for recreation here," she went on, "and you will find the staff very friendly. But—" she paused, and now her glance was very hard, "—but whatever impression you may have gathered of our hospitals here, we do not encourage the formation of romantic friendships. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Matron," Fay answered meekly enough, but with a slight smile she could not repress. She could imagine just how much weight that dictum would carry with the housemen and the young nurses !
"May I ask if you are engaged—or thinking of marriage?" The question took Fay by surprise, but her reply was so vehement it seemed even to startle the Matron.
"No !" she replied emphatically and categorically.
She was not aware that she had given the matter any thought—her reaction had been instinctive. And it struck even Fay herself that it was ridiculous to embrace perpetual spinsterhood for the sake of a single kiss—and a kiss under the mistletoe at that. But somewhere deep down inside herself she knew that if she could not marry Mark she would marry no one.
She did not have time to probe her own feelings any further at that point, for after a tap the door opened and a pleasant-faced woman of about forty entered. She gave Fay a friendly smile, but addressed herself to the Matron.
"You sent for me, Matron?"
"Yes, Sister. I want you to show Miss Gabriel her quarters —she is to be staff nurse to Sister Browning. But as soon as she has got into her uniform show her the general geography of the hospital, and she can report for duty on the afternoon rota."
"Very good, Matron." The Home Sister was imperturbably cheerful, it seemed, and Fay felt reassured as she got up and prepared to leave the room. Just before she reached the door, however, she was called back. "Miss Gabriel?"
"Yes, Matron?"
"I hope you will be very happy here—and I am always available to any of my nurses if they have any problems
they want to discuss with me." She smiled, and with the smile the whole expression of her face was changed.
"Thank you, Matron." Fay warmed to the smile, and followed the Sister from the room.
"She's a dear really," the Sister told her when they were in the corridor. "Has she been lecturing you about not forming any attachments?"
"Yes, she did mention it—as taboo!" Fay told her guide.
"Poor Matron—it's a constant nightmare to her. Our loss of good nurses through marriage is terribly high and there's really nothing she can do about it. All the warnings in the world don't have any effect. You must have given her quite a headache."
"Me?" asked Fay wonderingly.
"Yes. You're too pretty. Matron feels much safer with plain girls."
"I can't think why," Fay said, for in her experience the plain girls were the more determined in their pursuit of a man.
"Neither can I," her companion agreed. "Now this is the Nurses' Home—no men visitors, of course. You're on the first floor—I managed to give you a single as you've been a Sister—I suppose you've been used to your own quarters?"
"I have," Fay agreed, "but I don't want any special treatment because of that. I'm joining here as a staff nurse and I shan't expect to be treated any differently from the others."
"Good girl!" the other commented with a smile. "I'll leave you for an hour, then—to get yourself a bit organised, and then if you'll be in your uniform by then I'll take you round the hospital. I must say it is a bit thick to put you on duty so soon. When did you land?"
"Oh, I haven't come straight from Australia. I got here a week ago—I've been spending Christmas with Mrs. Travers —she's an old friend of my mother's."
The Home Sister's eyes widened a little. "Mrs. Travers? Then you'll know—"
But Fay never discovered who it was she ought to know, for Home Sister was called away by an orderly who tapped at the door.
St. Edith's was larger than Fay had originally supposed,
for there were several separate blocks on the campus, some of which were connected with the main building by covered ways and some which were quite isolated. One of these was the pediatric wing, to which she was allocated.
Fay guessed from its position that it might well be rather isolated from the main life of the hospital, but she was a little startled when she was introduced to a batch of nurses just going on duty, to be greeted with "Welcome to the Seminary !" an
d "Come and join the hen party !
"
A small puckish girl with merry dark eyes whose name was Fowler, but who seemed to be called Flip for some reason, explained, "We're all women over here—nursing staff, housemen, consultants—the lot. We even have to ring up the main building for a porter if we need one."
"Yes—and a visit from the window-cleaner is an event—but he only comes once in about two or three months," someone else complained.
"Good gracious !" Fay ejaculated. "Is it intentional, or accidental?—the femininity, I mean."
"Supposed to be accidental," they told her, but Flip added, "Tell that to the Marines—I see the hand of our beloved Matron in it."
"You going to be our new staff?" they wanted to know, but before she could answer that or satisfy their curiosity about herself she was summoned into Sister's office.
Sister Browning was a female Friar Tuck—nearly as broad as she was long and of a bouncing cheerfulness. She was at first glance obviously the sort of woman who ought to have had a brood of youngsters of her own. Since, however, she had somehow missed the marriage market she had now achieved the next best thing in having two large children's wards under her care. She adored children and was just the sort of person children would love, Fay thought. This, however, as she later learned to her cost, meant that Sister spent nearly all the time in the wards and left all the dull routine desk work to her second in command—a post which was to fall to Fay's lot.
"I'm mighty glad to see you," Sister Browning beamed after they had been talking for a few minutes. "I haven't
had a staff for two weeks and it's been such a drag. I do hope you'll stay—did Matron tell you the snags?"
"No—are there any?" Fay asked innocently. "She didn't mention any."
"It seems so," the Sister tried to look solemn for a moment. "At any rate my seepage of young nurses is about twice that of the other wards. The girls tell me there are two main snags. First, the all-women staff—even housemen and consultants; and secondly, the fact that they don't like walking across the grounds on dark nights to get to the Nurses' Home."
Fay laughed. "Neither of those will worry me—I'm not interested in young doctors and I'm not afraid of the dark."
"Thank goodness for that," a sigh of relief went out from Sister Browning. "Then I'm sure we'll get on like a house on fire, and perhaps you can instill into these girls the fact that it isn't the end of the world if they're not married by the time they're twenty-one."
"I'll try," Fay promised, but she didn't really think she'd stand much chance of success. Whether because of Matron's warnings against romance, or in spite of them, there seemed to be a greater concentration on it here than anywhere else. Certainly more than in the Commemoration Hospital—but there of course Fay remembered that any girl, however plain or unattractive, could have her choice of a man at almost any age. Over here in England she realised that the balance between the sexes was only just beginning to readjust itself in favour of the girls.
All the same, although she made what excuse she could for them, Fay did get rather tired of men as the perpetual subject of conversation in the common rooms, dining room and even in the corridors.
Long before she had an opportunity of meeting them she knew just which of the housemen were "fun" and which were dull, knew which ones it was safe to encourage and which ones of whom to beware. And the gossip did not stop with housemen—the names of Registrars and Consultants were bandied about.
"Of course," Flip told her seriously as she ploughed her way through an enormous bun with her afternoon cup of tea,
"of course Osborne's by far the dishiest of the lot—but he's married."
"So are lots of the others, aren't they?" Fay's eyebrows went up in surprise, for she had been in the hospital long enough now to know that such things as engagements or marriage were very lightly disposed of in the nurses' quarters.
"Oh, but he's properly married—in fact he's the most proper thing you can come across—"
"He was brought up by a Victorian grandmother," someone else put in. "Still, all the same, I wouldn't mind being married to him. I'd feel so safe," the girl breathed ecstatically.
"Hm. Opportunity would be a fine thing," Flip said tartly.
"Come on, Gabriel," someone teased her, "who's your secret boy-friend? I noticed you've cold-shouldered all the housemen who've tried to date you. Who is he?"
"Mr. Nobody!"
Fay
forced herself to smile and speak lightly, but she did wish that it did not hurt her so much—all this idle lighthearted banter about men friends and dates. Sometimes she wondered if she could ever bring herself to accept some of the invitations which were pressed upon her—certainly it would make her seem more normal and attract less comment.