Outpost Hospital (3 page)

He threw his cigarette into the fire and headed for the door. Katherine felt she must say something. Her answer had been impulsive and ungracious. “I ... I meant that it’s quite unnecessary. You don’t have to feel I expect ... well—”

He cut in abruptly. “I understand. I anticipated such a reply but I had to make the gesture. My sister is very strong-minded. Now—” he looked impatiently at his watch “—if there’s nothing you want to ask me, I must go.”

Katherine stepped back. “No, there’s nothing, Doctor,” she said unhappily as he strode to the door. The barrier between them seemed higher and wider than ever before. “Won’t you stay for a cup of coffee, even? It’s all prepared.”

But he was already putting on his coat. The collar was turned in at the back and she longed to reach up and put it right. “No, thanks,” he said curtly, “there are still several things to be done and not much time left. We’ll meet as arranged at the Royal Hotel in Southampton. Until then, goodbye.”

She stood quite still for a few moments after he had gone. Then, with a sigh, she went across to the fire and knelt, prodding the coals into flame. The warmth and color seemed suddenly to have left the room.

Kneeling there, gazing into the fire, she found herself wishing desperately that she had refused to go to Africa. How could she have imagined she could go through with it? She must have been crazy. Separation would have been far better. She could have made a complete break with Grinsley and its associations; made new friends, seen new places. In time she might even have forgotten Mark Charlton. What would it be like to be free of this emotion that held her like a chain? How had she felt before? She couldn’t remember. It was as though she had always been a captive.

She was still kneeling there when her father came in.

“Well now, my dear,” he said, holding his thin white hands out to the warmth, “Dr. Charlton has gone, I see. My word, it’s cold outside. Seasonal, of course.”

Katherine pulled an armchair forward. “Sit here, Dad, while I get some coffee. Dr. Charlton couldn’t stay.”

“That’s a pity. I’ve taken quite a liking to him.” Mr. Marlowe
reached for his slippers. “But I think he will be a better man after a year or two in Nigeria.”

“Whatever do you mean, Dad?”

“Mm? Oh, nothing really, my dear, it just occu
r
red to me that there was something arrogant—only very slightly, of course—in the young man’s character. It’s quite natural. Nothing has happened to him, so far, to give him the touch of humility that he needs. A spell of work as a mission doctor should supply it.” He leaned back in his chair, filling his pipe.

Katherine held a lighted match for him. “I had no idea you were such a student of character, Dad,” she smiled.

He was probably right, too, she reflected, as she went to the kitchen.

She wheeled the trolley into the sitting room. It was set with the dainty little pastries she had spent most of the morning making.

As she handed him his cup, her father said, “I shall miss you, Katherine. I know we haven’t been really close; that’s my fault. I get absorbed in my books or my music or my stamps and I forget everything else for the time. But I’ve always known you were near.”

She went to sit on the arm of his chair. Dear Dad. He must be lonely, too. She kissed the top of his head. “It’s not forever, you know,” she said gently. “I’ll be home for a long leave in two years, remember.”

“Of course you will. I mustn’t be selfish. This is your choice and a big adventure for you.” He patted her hand. “Dr. Charlton must think highly of you to have asked you to help him in this work.”

“I suppose so,” Katherine said disconsolately.

Her father looked up at her in sudden concern. “You’re not having doubts about it, are you, my dear? Because if you are, it’s not too late—”

“No, Dad,” she reassured him. “I’m a bit tired, I expect, after all the preparations for the journey; and a little sad to be leaving you and the village.” Katherine and her father lived in a small village called Dinton, a few miles outside Grinsley. She took a plate from the trolley and said as cheerfully as she could, “Eat some of these patties. They’ll be dried out by tomorrow. Shall we have some music?”

She selected a record from the cabinet. “Sheep May Safely Graze!” It never failed to soothe her when she felt tense and nervous.

She sat down, leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to think of nothing at all. Lovely restful music. Where would he be now? On his way to London? It’s a foggy night. Hope he drives carefully. He had asked her to marry him. Had she been too hasty? No. But if only—stop! She was supposed to be thinking of nothing and relaxing.

CHAPTER FIVE

The three weeks of the sea voyage from Southampton to Port Harcourt in Nigeria were a mixture of pleasure and disappointment for Katherine.

Her first experience of travel in a big ship; her first sight of exotic foreign cities; these of course she enjoyed. But most of her time was spent in the company of a London girl a little older than herself, who was traveling to Lagos to join her husband. This girl, Peggy Carr, was bright and friendly, but Katherine had hoped the long journey would give her a chance to get on closer terms with Mark. That he would talk to her about the life ahead of them; take her into his confidence about the problems they would meet, perhaps even show some interest in her opinions and ideas.

Instead, he sought out men with years of work in Africa behind them and sat with them for hours, drawing on their knowledge. Many of these men were returning from home leave.

So Katherine hardly saw him except at mealtimes, and even then he talked much more to the middle-aged army couple who shared their table than to her. Of course, she understood his eagerness to learn all he could of the continent where they were to live, and she would have been satisfied if he had just given her his companionship for the short time the ship was in port.

However, on the morning they reached Dakar he told her at breakfast that he had appointments in the city that would keep him busy all day.

Wandering among gleaming blocks of flats, large hotels and smart shops in the hot, brilliant sunshine, Katherine found it strange to think of life still going on at the Grinsley General exactly as it had in the three years she herself had been part of it.

After lunch she and Peggy went to see the native quarter. But the color and vitality of it meant little to her. If o
n
ly Mark had been with her, she would have been fascinated by it all.

She made a few purchases: a paperweight in the form of a scorpion, which she was told was a good example of native art—this for her father. Actually, she bought two of these. The other was intended as a Christmas present for Mark, but she didn’t think she would have the courage to give it to him, when the time came. And she bought a pair of black suede gloves for Ann Jameson, her only real friend in Grinsley. Ann was a nurse at the General
,
too.

At Lagos Peggy left the ship, and Katherine felt more lonely than ever.

In the afternoon, Mark did decide to take time off for a look at the market in the African city, but as the hearty colonel and his genteel lady, their table companions, elected to go with them, the outing was not much fun.

The colonel was a man of strong opinions, or rather prejudices, and he voiced them loudly and frequently. As soon as he heard what had brought Katherine and Mark to Nigeria, he made it clear that he thought they were mad.

Katherine felt rather uneasy listening to the colonel’s remarks. Was there some truth in them? Were she and Mark taking on more than they could cope with? Again, she longed to tell Mark how she felt and have him reassure her, but when she raised the subject later that evening as they sat in the lounge, he had merely glanced up from his book and said, “Oh, don’t worry about Colonel Blimp, Nurse. It will take more than the wind of change to blow the cobwebs from his ideas. He’s behind the times.”

She had wanted to say more but he was engrossed in his book again. She would be glad when the journey was over and the work begun. On these long, lazy days she had too much time to think.

At Port Harcourt the voyage ended and the train journey northward began.

The train was a day late in starting, but nobody other than Mark and Katherine seemed to think that mattered. It was crowded and not very comfortable, but the meals were well cooked and varied.

As the train pushed on, the farms it passed became smaller and the forest more dense. At each village the people gathered to wave and cheer excitedly, for the passing of the train was a big event in their lives.

On the second morning, after an excellent breakfast of iced paw-paw, bacon and eggs and toast and marmalade, Mark and Katherine were sitting in the dining car drinking their second cups of coffee. Though it was hard to believe—the temperature was 95 degrees—it was Christmas Day, and Katherine had put on her nicest dress, a slim-fitting one of cream shantung with a square neckline and large, mother-of-pearl buttons.

Putting down his cup, Mark took a small parcel from the pocket of his white linen jacket and handed it to her, saying with a smile, “Merry Christmas, Nurse.”

She was taken completely by surprise. It had never occur
r
ed to her that he would give her a present. He had been so absorbed in his books lately, that she had wondered if he even knew the date.

“Oh, thank you, Doctor,” she stammered, taking the parcel. It was neatly wrapped in holly-patterned paper and red ribbon.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes of course.” Her hands shook as she tried to undo the bow, but eventually she got the wrappings off to reveal a small scarlet box. Inside was a necklace, one of those she had admired in the market in Lagos. The beads were of a deep turquoise blue, and it seemed to Katherine the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Looking at it she found, to her dismay, that her eyes were filling with tears. Oh dear! She must not be so silly as to cry.

She blinked hard and managed to smile faintly and whisper, “It’s lovely. Thank you so much.”

“I thought you took a liking to them when we saw them in the market, so I slipped back while you were elsewhere. Shall I fasten them for you?”

“Thank you,” she said again. “It was very kind of you to think of it—getting it for me, I mean.”

He stood up and put the necklace around her throat, his large hands fumbling with the tiny catch. He had to push her hair aside to fix it, then he smoothed it back into place.

He took his seat again opposite her and studied the effect. She felt her cheeks grow hot under his keen gaze as he nodded. “Delightful,” he said. “I wasn’t sure which color to choose, because, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what color your eyes were.”

His confession took away some of her pleasure in his gift; but after all, the main thing was that he had thought about her at all.

She opened her handbag and took out the paperweight. “I got this in Dakar,” she said shyly, pushing it across the table to him. “I hope you like it.”

“Why, thank you, Nurse,” he said, removing the tissue paper. “It’s very well made. I’ll use it a lot. Thank you.”

She smiled, carefully folding the paper that had been around his present to her. Then she put the paper and ribbon into the box and, when they left the dining car, put the box into her case. Tonight she would replace the necklace in its box and there it would stay for the rest of the journey. She did not want to risk losing it.

The railway came to an abrupt end at a town called Makurdi, and Mark had arranged for a large canoe to be waiting there to take them to their destination.

The canoe was a hollowed-out trunk of a huge tree, and a dozen boys, with much good-natured argument, began to transfer the luggage to it.

It was obvious that there would not be room for all the packing cases and the suitcases, and Katherine watched with patient resignation as Mark first of all supervised the loading of his precious medical supplies. Then he made the grinning boys understand, by means of signs, that they would be well rewarded if they got the rest of the luggage to the mission station before nightfall.

Katherine hoped the cases would arrive soon, as the small bag she carried with her held only the barest necessities. But she had learned enough in the short time she had been in Nigeria to know that it was useless to fret about such things.

So she stepped gingerly aboard the rocking craft and took her seat at one end under a hastily rigged awning of leaves.

The dark forest pressed in on each side; massive trees, with smaller palms between; pines and, here and there, the dead remains of a giant tree stood gaunt and black against the lush greenery. The young fellows were in high spirits as they skilfully propelled the heavy boat down the wide, fast-flowing river. They laughed and talked continually and, though Mark and Katherine could not understand them, one word was repeated over and over—“loketa”—and they realized that this must be the word for “doctor.” The dire warning of the colonel on the ship had been nagging at her more and more as the journey neared its end. But no one could think harshly of these people.

Mark, she could see, was already running a professional eye over their thin bodies. Although they appeared to be full of energy, many of them had sores on their feet and all showed signs of malnutrition.

When they were within a quarter of a mile of Ngombe, their final destination, they saw another canoe approaching. In it was a number of young boys wearing clean white shirts and wraparounds and, at one end, sat an older white man.

As the boats drew nearer together, Katherine saw that the man wore a clerical collar. This must be the Rev. Andrew Kennedy, she thought, feeling a little nervous as she always did on meeting people for the first time and hoping he would be easy to get on with.

“This looks like a reception committee,” said Mark.

The clergyman stood up and called to them in a pleasant voice with a Scottish accent, “Hullo, there, you’re very welcome. My friends here insisted on coming tae meet the doctor and escort him tae the station. We’ll lead the way.”

Mark and Katherine waved to him and Mark replied, “Glad to be here at last, Kennedy. Lead on. We’ll follow you.”

But their crew had different ideas. Pride would not allow them to follow meekly behind. Did they not have the eagerly awaited “loketa” in their boat? So the triumphal procession developed into a race, with each crew determined to get to the station first.

As the canoe swayed and the large cases wobbled, Katherine began to feel a bit scared, but the gaiety was infectious. When the contest ended in a dead heat at a small landing, she was laughing with them.

The crew scrambled ashore, helped her to climb from the boat and then started unloading the cargo.

After instructing his own assistants to help in this work, Andrew Kennedy approached Mark and Katherine. He was 28 years old, but three years in the climate of Nigeria had aged him and his thin face was deeply lined. He was of medium height and wore white shorts and jacket. In all, he was not an impressive-looking man, but as he shook their hands there was such a warmth and sincerity about him that Katherine, at least, took an immediate liking to him.

“Thank God you are here,” he said. “This is an answer to my prayer. I suppose I’d better introduce myself. I’m Andrew Kennedy,” he smiled broadly, “though I expect you’d guessed that already.”

Mark introduced Katherine and himself, and then their host came between them, putting an arm through theirs and saying, “Come along up to the house; my sister is waiting for us. We were expecting you a couple of days ago.”

Mark began to explain the delay but Kennedy shook his head, “Och, don’t bother to explain,” he laughed. “I know something about the way the trains run here.”

The three of them were walking up a sloping path cut through grass nearly a foot high to where a rather dilapidated single-story wooden house stood on a grassy rise facing the river. It was built on poles, and a covered porch, which seemed to sag slightly, ran around all four sides.