“Thank you, Nurse. It’s good of you to tell me,” Andrea said, realizing that the Staff Nurse was trying both to warn and help her.
The first operation was due to begin at nine-thirty. Andrea felt her excitement mounting with her apprehension. What would be the attitude of Martin Graham towards her? Would he be friendly as at the dance, or aloof and impersonal?
The work progressed and again she marvelled as she had on her first morning, at the speed and efficiency with which everything was prepared. By nine-twenty the anaesthetic trolley was ready, the instruments laid out, covered with a sterile cloth, the catches off the drums, disinfectant bowls ready and the Staff Nurse scrubbed up, waiting.
Five minutes later, Martin Graham clumped in wearing his rubber boots, followed by George Howard and Sister Fisher. Andrea’s heart lifted as Martin’s grey eyes lighted upon her in recognition. He passed on to the anaesthetic room, however, without speaking. George, on the other hand said cheerfully:
“Ah, Nurse Grey. So you’ve joined the theatre staff?”
A frown settled on Sister Fisher’s face. She hoped this nurse was not one of the pert kind. Wasn’t she the one about whom there was that ridiculous rumor? Martin was supposed to have taken her out, but all he had done was to give her a lift when her boy friend’s car broke down. He had ignored her just now, anyhow. As for George Howard, the girl had just been one of his wards, no duobt. She hoped he wasn’t going to encourage her to be familiar.
Andrea had been detailed to fasten the sterile gowns of the scrubbed-up personnel and now stood waiting.
“Everything in order, Sister?” Martin asked as he scrubbed his hands.
“Yes, all is ready, Mr. Graham.”
“Well, Nurse,” he said to Andrea with disconcerting suddenness. “Do you know your theatre technique?”
“A little, sir.”
“Um. Then you can tie up for me.”
He clumped over to one of the drums and extracted a linen cap which he dropped on to his head, gingerly manoeuvring it into place. Next, his mask which he held at the front while she tied it firmly at the back and finally, from another drum, he took a long, white gown and put his arms into its wide sleeves.
Very carefully Andrea found the tapes which hung down and without touching the rest of the garment, tied them at the back. As she tied the ones at the neck, she caught an intriguing whiff of hair cream for the second time, and wondered vaguely what kind he used.
“Not too tight, Nurse,” he said sharply.
She loosed them a little.
“That’s better. Thank you.”
Finally, he pulled on his sterile rubber gloves and joined his assistant at the operating table.
Andrea stood at the other side, a slight distance away. The powerful, shadowless lamp shone down. There was a brief pause, then Martin turned to George Howard at the patient’s head.
“Pulse?”
“Pulse O.K.”
“Scalpel, Sister.”
“Scalpel.”
“Swab.”
“Swab.”
“Artery forceps.”
“Artery forceps.”
The operation proceeded, to be followed by another and yet another, and so the morning wore on.
At mid-day, Andrea was sent to the theatre kitchen to put coffee on for the surgeons and anesthetist. She was setting out the cups when George Howard came in. “How’s things, Andrea? Are you liking theatre?”
“Oh, yes. I love it. It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”
He eyed her quizzically. “What in particular do you find so fascinating?”
“The whole atmosphere — the operations and everything.”
He laughed.
She looked at him enquiringly. “I shouldn’t have thought that was funny.”
“It isn’t really, pet. Don’t pay any attention to me.” “Doctor,” she said. “I wonder if you’d care to join me and a few friends, including Virginia, in a tennis and supper party at the week-end? I’m hiring a public court for the afternoon, then we’ll have a buffet supper at my flat.”
“Your flat?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes. I’ve kept it on for a while. It holds many of my mother’s things and I don’t like the idea of putting them in store.”
“Your mother?”
“She died about six months ago. I’m alone now.”
He put a sympathetic arm round her shoulders, then hastily moved away as footsteps sounded in the corridor.
“Is the coffee ready Nurse?” demanded Julia Fisher, entering the room, Martin Graham at her heels.
She frowned as she saw George standing by the window.
“Oh, so you’re here, Dr. Howard. You can go, Nurse, and another time don’t take so long making the coffee.”
Her cheeks burning, Andrea went out. Why must Sister indulge in such petty tyranny, especially before Mr. Graham and Dr. Howard. Surely her efforts to appear superior did not really impress the surgeon and doctor?
The next day was Julia Fisher’s day off, and though the work went on just the same, there was a noticeable easing of tension. This time, it was left to Andrea to pour the coffee while Nurse Craig assisted one of the housemen in a simple appendicectomy.
“Have a cup yourself, Andrea,” suggested George.
“I’d better not. What would Sister say?”
“Nurse Grey doesn’t like doing thing’s she not supposed to do, George,” Martin put in smiling.
“Well, I must say she is to be admired for that,” George said. “By the way, Andrea, is everything fixed for that tennis party of yours?”
Andrea smiled. “Oh, yes. Saturday afternoon, three o’clock at the Burlington courts. Then we all go together to the flat about six or so. That suit you?”
“Admirably.”
Martin looked from one to the other. “What is all this about?” he asked, taking a cup of coffee from Andrea.
“You heard, old man. A private tennis tournament on Saturday afternoon and supper in Andrea’s flat afterwards.”
Andrea colored slightly. Really, George was very tactless at times. Would Martin come if she asked him? She offered him the sugar and he smiled suddenly.
Her heart missed a beat as he said: “You’re a lucky dog, George.”
She gathered her courage. “If you’d care to come, too, Mr. Graham, I’d be extremely glad.”
She held her breath as she waited for his reply.
“Thanks,” he said, “I’d love to come.”
When Andrea had gone, leaving them to finish their coffee, George said: “You wangled that invitation nicely. As a matter of interest—why?”
“I wangled it! You’re a tactless ass, George, mentioning the party just then — when you knew she hadn’t asked me, and would be too shy to. I had to do it to save the poor child from embarrassment.”
George eyed him speculatively. “Falling?”
“Don’t be a fool.”
Virginia was frankly incredulous when Andrea told her that she had invited Martin and he had accepted.
“My goodness, you have achieved something. If the girls only knew.”
“They mustn’t, of course, though I only say that because of the silly, unwritten law of the hospital. After all, who is he? Merely a man with a job.”
“All right,” laughed Virginia. We’ll take it as said. All the same, Fisher would be furious if she knew.”
Andrea said. “I saw Mr. Graham out with Sister Fisher. You once said he’d never taken any of the nurses out.”
Virginia looked at her thoughtfully. “As far as I know, cherub, he doesn’t take any of the staff out. Fisher may be an exception, of course. It’s well known that she’s crazy about him.”
“Just as all the rest of the staff are?”
“Except you, of course,” twinkled Virginia.
She suspected that Andrea was more interested in Martin than she would admit.
“Of course,” she said. “There’s a big difference between the way the nurses feel about Martin and the way Fisher does. With the nurses, it’s little more than hero worship. But Fisher is definitely looking for a husband, and that makes her all the more dangerous. So beware, my child, beware.”
Fortunately, Saturday was a fine, sunny day. Andrea enjoyed meeting all the old gang from the office again. Virginia seemed perfectly at ease with them, and Martin and George clowned together like schoolboys, much to everyone’s amusement — and Andrea’s great surprise. She had no idea that Martin could be like that. How little the hospital staff really knew him.
The only one who wasn’t fully enjoying himself was Godfrey. He couldn’t think why Andrea had invited the two doctors. George Howard, he presumed, was Virginia’s special friend, but this fellow Martin Graham—one way and another, he had continually crossed Andrea’s path ever since she had entered the hospital. How he envied the fellow, seeing her every day, working alongside her.
At six thirty, George and Virginia were declared the tournament winners and every one piled into the cars. The girls were dropped off at Andrea’s flat, while the men went on to Godfrey’s house to wash and change, meeting again at Andrea’s flat in half an hour.
Food was set out on conveniently placed small tables and every one sat around on stools or chairs or on the floor as they pleased, among a great deal of laughter and good natured chaff.
Martin looked appreciatively round the room. It was simple and in good taste, no conventional suite, just comfortable chairs. No fussy ornaments, but some really good prints and plenty of books. He wondered at the small grand piano. Did she play? There was no fire in the grate but what a cosy room it would be in the winter. He pictured her sitting there by a blazing fire, and wondered vaguely who would one day perhaps sit on the other side. The young man, Godfrey? A likeable enough fellow, but inclined to be boorish. Obviously in love with her, yet she had said they were not engaged. He had remembered she had said something about long engagements not being wise, but if he were the young man, he was hanged if he’d feel very happy about her running around without a ring on her finger. But then, he imagined she was a stubborn young woman.
She approached him with a cup of tea.
“Ah, good old witches brew,” he said, smiling down at her, thinking how fresh and charming she looked in her white nylon blouse and checked gingham skirt.
She looked up at him rather anxiously. “I do hope tea is all right for you. I — I didn’t think it right to have any other kind of drink.”
“You’re a wise girl and tea is fine,” he assured her, adding, “these sausage rolls are wonderful, wherever did you get them?”
“Virginia and I made them this morning.”
“What, here in the flat?”
“Yes. I’m glad you like them. You must try some of our Neapolitan sandwiches—they’re really good, though I say it myself.”
“I should think you’re entitled to. Do you have many of these parties?”
“I used to occasionally, when I worked in the office. But this is the first one since I went to the hospital. Virginia often comes along here, though.”
“And George?”
“Oh no. This is Dr. Howard’s first visit.”
He wanted to say, “I suppose Godfrey is quite at home here.” He had no wish to offend her, however, but found himself earnestly desiring to know. She had been prudent in not making her party a “drinking” one. He supposed she would also be prudent about entertaining young men in her flat. Yet she wasn’t the prudish type, he felt sure. All at once, he longed to know more about this girl who had so defied him and who, at times, had seemed to treat him so casually, even disdainfully.
Watching him, Andrea followed the direction of his eyes to where Virginia and Godfrey were talking together.
“Virginia is a very gifted pianist,” she said. “She’s going to play for us later.”
“Do you play?”
She smiled. “Only behind locked doors. My mother was brilliant.”
He checked an impulse to pat her dark hair and said: “If we’re going to have music, why not ask George to sing? He’s got a fine voice especially after a few drinks, even if it’s only tea, and he seems to be doing well in that line.”
Godfrey, though talking to Virginia, had been watching Andrea as she stood close to Martin. Now, as she looked in his direction, her eyes seemed to beckon him. Virginia, sensing that he wanted to go over to Andrea, excused herself and went to hand round more food. Godfrey strolled across the room.
“Hello, Godfrey.” Andrea turned her warm smile full upon him, making his heart leap with love for her. “Come and talk to Mr. Graham while I do my duty as hostess.”
To his acute disappointment, she darted off. There was silence between the two men for a while. Then Godfrey said: “It’s nice a flat, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Do you come here often?”
“Not very. I used to visit the home when her mother was alive.” Somehow he felt that having known Andrea’s mother gave him a distinct advantage over the other. “But of course it’s more difficult now. I have Andrea’s good name to consider.”
“Of course.”
There was another heavy silence, then Godfrey said: “I believe Andrea is working with you in the theatre.”
“Yes, in a way. Of course I’m not in the theatre the whole day. My work also takes me on to the wards, but during the operations we come into contact.”
“She seems to enjoy theatre.”
Martin nodded. “Yes, I believe she does. By the way, how is your little car running these days?”
Godfrey noticed the way in which the surgeon had switched the conversation from Andrea. He himself would have cheerfully gone on talking about her, even though he was inwardly seething with jealously and feeling that the man was condescending and supercilious. Yet he would not have described his feeling as jealousy. He just felt he disliked him and envied him his daily contact with Andrea.
They talked about cars until Virginia went over to the piano and began to play. First she played a gay tarantelle to match the party mood. Then gradually, so that scarcely anyone noticed, she carried them all into a sad, sentimental mood ending with a haunting Chopin nocturne.