Yankee Surgeon (6 page)

“Then what happened?” Sally asked eagerly.

The other staff nurse shrugged her shoulders. “I don
’
t know exactly. Dr. Stornoway didn
’
t turn up for the afternoon lists although it was her duty. She wasn
’
t to know that the theater super is always off for half a day after the chest list. So where she
’
s gone I don
’
t know.”

“I saw her getting into that big red car belonging to the new American surgeon.”

The junior staff nurse volunteered the information gaily, not knowing what she was doing to Sally
’
s spirits.

“When was this?” Even in her own ears her voice sounded flat, Sally was sure.

“Must have been about tea-time,
I
think.”

Sally took over the department from the day staff and started in on her nightly routine, but her heart didn
’
t seem to be in it. For no apparent reason she found herself wandering over to the big window that overlooked the courtyard. Just because some male surgeon had asked for advice in coping with a female house surgeon it didn
’
t mean that he intended to take it, did it? And why should it matter to her? It was none of her business anyway. Feeling temporarily chastened, Sally started cleaning the stock cupboard with considerable energy.

George peered in. “Hello, Sally. Got time for a chat?”

Sally glared at him. “No, I haven
’
t! I
’
m busy ... can
’
t you see?”

“Naughty! Naughty! Sally, I
’
m ashamed of you.” George grinned at her and walked past her to the window and stared down into the courtyard.

Sally ignored him for as long as she could. “Is there someone important down there looking in the direction of your department?”

George glanced back over his shoulder and then resumed his study of the scene below. “Merely one Junior Casualty Officer ... she should have been back an hour ago to take over.”

Sally snatched at the opportunity to vent her own hidden annoyance. “You mean Dr. Stornoway isn
’
t off duty then? I call that mean!”

George chuckled ruefully. “Yes, you could, or you might even say it was George being softhearted again. Good thing we don
’
t both get cross when we can
’
t have what we want.”

Sally joined him at the window in time to see a big red car glide majestically into the courtyard.

“What did you mean by that?” she asked quickly to cover up her own feelings.

George turned and looked searchingly at the face so close to his shoulder. “Would you be trying to tell me that you aren
’
t interested in the movements of a tall surgeon from across the water?”

“Not any more so than in anyone else who
’
s new,” Sally maintained firmly.

George drew back from the window, his hands holding her securely. “And I thought you always told Uncle George the truth,” he accused gently.

“And it is the truth—” Sally began.

“—as far as it goes,” George interrupted. “All right, Sally, but take good care of that heart of yours. I have a sort of proprietorial interest in it.” He bent and touched her cheek with his lips very lightly.

Neither had heard the door open and Sally found herself looking past George into a pair of light blue eyes that could have been dancing
with amusement...

“Say ... I
’
m sorry if I
’
m busting up
anything...”
John B. Tremayne
’
s accent had never sounded more American.

CHAPTER THREE

Sally Conway had never been quite so fond of George Brown as at that moment of overwhelming embarrassment.

He merely straightened up and smiled slightly at Dr. Tremayne, as if to suggest that he hadn
’
t really been kissing Sally, and if he had, it wasn
’
t very important.

“Sorry,
sir ...
were you looking for me?”

“No ... well, not exactly. It was Staff Nurse I wanted a word with now, but I could do with seeing you later. There
’
s a case...”

George nodded. He should have been off duty over an hour ago, but he had learned as a medical student that leisure time was always surgeons permitting, to say
nothing of physicians and ward sisters...

“I
’
ll be in the residents
’
mess, sir, and I
’
ll see if I can scare up a coke for you ... on ice.”

Dr. Tremayne chuckled. “You do just that little thing for me, Brown, and I
’
ll be eternally grateful.”

Sally found herself wanting to run after George as he went through the door. This was worse than being on the Matron
’
s mat as a junior probationer.

John B. Tremayne seemed in no hurry to have his word with Sally. He had crossed to the window and was staring down into the busy courtyard.

“Say ... so this is how you keep tabs on your surgeons! I did sort of wonder how you knew when we were
coming ...
most times.”

Sally wasn
’
t quite sure whether he was teasing her or not. “You wanted a word with me, sir,” she reminded him gently.

He turned away from the window reluctantly. “Not wanted
to ...
but I suppose I
’
d
better...”
he said surprisingly. Sally
’
s heart sank. A
scolding ...
what had she done wrong? “It
’
s a question
of rubber boots ... wellingtons you call them. Dr. Stornoway, it seems, asked for size four ... in fact I was there when she asked you ... and she says she got sixes ... her feet were positively floating in them.”

Sally stared at him in utter disbelief. “Is that all, sir?”

Her amazement wavered before the expression on his face and then the absurdity of it struck them both and they dissolved into helpless laughter.

It was several moments before the surgeon could recover a few shreds of dignity.

“You dare to ask
‘
is that all?
’
in that cool English voice of yours when I
’
ve had thirty whole minutes of listening to Dr. Stornoway raving on about wellingtons and theater
staff and...
”
He stopped suddenly and ran his fingers through his fair hair.

Sally felt once again the impulse to run her hand through his hair. “Could I explain, sir?”

He grinned at her. “I think it could
be allowed ...
in the interests of British justice.”

Sally felt her temper rising and then decided that he hadn
’
t intended to be mocking. It must be the American habit of poking fun at what they didn
’
t understand and she had better get used to it if she were going to nurse in the
States...

“It
’
s this way, sir. We have six house surgeons using the theater to say nothing of the various house physicians who come to watch when one of their patients is transferred from the medical side, and on top of that, whenever there is a really big case there will be visiting V.I.P. surgeons from all parts of the globe. We keep an assortment of sizes in wellingtons, most of them on the large side. Well, you can wear a pair that
’
s too large but not the other way round. Size four is a small size and the theater superintendent wears them but you don
’
t lend hers ... not even when she
’
s off duty. No doubt if Dr. Stornoway—”

“—asks the theater superintendent nicely she can have a pair ... instead of taking it out on a poor staff nurse who hasn
’
t got the stores key or—”

“—on a defenseless surgeon whose job it isn
’
t to provide wellingtons for house surgeons,” Sally ended on a chanting note.

John
B. Tremayne gave a tremendous sigh. “Whew! You
’
ve no idea how worried I was.”

Sally stared at him. “You mean about ticking me off? I was the one who was shaking in my shoes.”

“It
’
s different over here. Your surgeons are somebody. At home we
’
re just the dogsbody who is allowed in at the last moment to do the job. No, that
’
s not quite the truth. Once you
’
re hitting the tops you
’
re okay. It
’
s on the way up that you have to smear so much butter that it
’
s a wonder you don
’
t slip off the ladder. One cross word to the wrong one and you
’
re lucky if you get as much as a knife and fork to do your next case with.”

Sally chuckled softly. “It
’
s not much different over here, but it
’
s much more subtle and you
’
re always given enough to do the job with.”

He laughed. “You mean ... slow poison over the years ... just suggesting that old John B. Tremayne isn
’
t quite such a hot surgeon as he thinks he is?”

“Something like that,” Sally admitted. “You never see it being done; you only hear about
it ...
sometimes.”

John B. Tremayne was looking at her thoughtfully. “Do you often give surgeons a glimpse behind the scenes like this?”

Sally felt a flash of momentary worry—she had been rather outspoken.

“Not when they
’
re as senior as you,” she said frankly.

“Then why have you, with me?”

Sally glanced at him, but his expression was serious as if he really wanted to know.

“Perhaps it
’
s because you
’
re more informal—” she began.

“In what way?” he interrupted with a touch of sharpness in his tone.

Sally became wary. “Well, in the first place, if a surgeon has a complaint, he makes it to the theater superintendent and she—”

“—would have read you the riot act. I see. So I
’
ve been too democratic
...
upsetting sacred protocol ...
the lot.” He was silent for a moment and then burst out, “Which way do you want it?
M
an to man and no hard feeling or via the theater super who, unless I miss my guess, would enjoy making you squirm?”

Sally was thoughtful. “I would prefer your way but I think the other might be ... safer.”

“Safer? Oh, I get you. It
’
s more impersonal because it
’
s part of a system. Right?” A grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “Now that we
’
re being sort of democratic, do you think you could risk telling me why your theater super hates my guts? I don
’
t always reckon to be someone
’
s blue-eyed boy, but I guess I
’
ve never been looked at quite so much as if I were a bad smell and, funnily enough, as if I were way beneath her notice all in the same look. It gets me.”

Sally
’
s eyes twinkled. “If you promise to be like one of your New England
clam...”

“Say, how do you know about the clams? Well, skip it and give me the low-down on those chilly looks. Could it be that she doesn
’
t like Americans?”

Sally hesitated. “No, it isn
’
t really that. It
’
s because you
’
re
...
you
’
re not part of the regular St. Bride
’
s pattern.” She looked at him earnestly. “Don
’
t take that the wrong way. It isn
’
t that we haven
’
t had ... colonials before. We have, but they came when they were housemen grade or at the most, registrars, and they took their turn with the rest.” She became apologetic. “They don
’
t get special privileges, special sessions, and so on.”

He was silent for so long that she began to be afraid that she had been too outspoken.

“I get it,” he said slowly. “I should have come here
a bit sooner. Stepped out of my place in the rat race back home and taken a chance on having something later on, just so as not to upset the precious system over here.” He was almost bitter for a moment, and then he grinned ruefully. “If there was only some way of mixing English know-how with American push, the sky would be the limit. Trouble with you English is that you allow yourselves to be strangled with your own traditions and you can
’
t see it or else maybe you don
’
t want to see it. There
’
s just no future
in it ... none
at all.”

Sally glanced at him with a touch of mischief in her eyes. “Does that mean you
’
re sorry you came
already
?”

“Gosh, no. I
’
ve learned a lot
already.
You see, your surgeons do the job and even when they find a new and better way they talk about it among themselves maybe, and they may go so far as to show a case at one of the clinical meetings—but they don
’
t
publish.
They like to
wait ...
five years
...
ten years ... to be sure it is a
better
way. In that time I could have reached my operating peak and be on the way down and not get to know about it. I could have used that new method maybe hundreds of times. Oh, I know it
’
s a bit risky. But that
’
s progress, honey.”

“What about the patients?” Sally asked very softly.

But there was no time for a reply.

“So this is where you
’
ve got to, Dr. Tremayne.” There was ice underneath the playful tone in Claris Stornoway
’
s voice ... ice that hardened further as she turned to address Sally.

“I suppose it is a mark of your efficiency that the theater phone doesn
’
t get answered when you are otherwise engaged, Nurse!”

Sally glanced up at the little green signal light over the door. “I
’
ll have it checked right away, Dr. Stornoway. Did you want the theater?” she asked very quietly.

“I did not!” the house surgeon snapped. “I was looking for Dr. Tremayne. Dr. Brown was sure he had left the theater an hour ago.”

Sally was swift to realize that any attempt at conciliation would be futile. She glanced at the clock. “Dr. Brown didn
’
t leave until nine ... he was waiting to be relieved.” She watched the angry color come into the other woman
’
s face before she murmured, “I
’
ll tell the night engineer about the phone,” and slipped away, but not before she had overheard the two surgeons.

“Why were you up here talking to that girl?” Claris
’
s tone was peevish.

“Why, I was ordering those fancy white boots for you, honey. It seems you put in a request to the theater super. Staff nurses can
’
t just hand them out like bars of candy, you know.”

Sally found herself slowing down. She had to hear the house surgeon
’
s answer.

“Seems to me that some staff nurses are decidedly uppity at handing out cheek, but let
’
s not talk about her. Can
we...”
The trilling of the phone blotted out the next words and Sally went to answer it, telling herself that since she was the one being talked about she had a perfect right to listen.

“Theater Staff Nurse Conway speaking.”

“Oh, your phone is working then, Staff Nurse. That new house surgeon, what
’
s-her-name, put in a complaint.”

Sally snatched at her temper. “Bill, just how many calls have there been for the theater since you came on duty?”

Switchboard sounded surprised and a trifle pained. “Only the one, Staff Nurse. Why? What
’
s the trouble?” He chuckled. “Was your boyfriend supposed to be phoning?”

“We don
’
t take private calls on duty,” Sally said primly. She was tempted to add that Claris Stornoway was the trouble, but that would be handing the other woman a piece
of cake ...
letting her know that her existence troubled Sally Conway.

“Sorry I mentioned it. Dr. Brown was wondering if Dr. Tremayne was still in your department, that
’
s all,” Bill said with no apology in his voice.

Sally was furious. So Claris Stornoway wasn
’
t the only one checking up
...
but the click of the elevator gates gave her an answer.

“Dr. Tremayne and Dr. Stornoway have just left the department,” she said with stiff dignity.

“Together? I see. I
’
ll let Dr. Brown know. Seems he was expecting Dr. Tremayne to meet him or something. Perhaps Dr. Tremayne got caught up
or something...”

Sally refused to rise. “Bill, could you tell the night engineer that the green signal light in the staff room isn
’
t working?
Please...”

Bill chuckled. He hadn
’
t done fifteen years as night operator on the switchboard at St. Bride
’
s without knowing far more about the hopes and fears of its nurses than they ever dreamed of.

“Staff room, eh? I
’
ll tell him when he
’
s finished fiddling with the respirator on Men
’
s Medical. Better leave the door open meantime and then you can hear it anyway.”

Sally hung up the phone with relief. She had a feeling that Bill had picked up far more than she had knowingly given away. And
yet ...
what did she know? Or what had she learned of their new surgeon? She reviewed what she remembered of their conversation. She began to sum it up in her
mind ...
he was ambitious ... he was determined ... he was willing to learn ... he didn
’
t put on airs when discussing things with her ... and he called most women honey—two at least, she amended.

Sally was glad when it was time to go to supper. She was tired of her own company and especially of her own thoughts.

Night Sister was off and her deputy too near to their own set to cast much of a damper on the jollity at the staff nurses
’
table. They greeted Sally with delight.

“What price America?”

“Have you got the ticket in your pocket yet?”

“Sally is a quick
worker ...
you
’
ve got to hand it to her.” Sally
’
s first reaction was anger but she knew only too well that if she showed it, the teasing would never end.

She sat down and sighed elaborately. “Someone sent dear Claris up too soon. I hadn
’
t even got to first
base...”

T
here was laughter.

“So the way to an American heart is via the baseball field! Good work, Sally. We know where to come for advice if we get some more from over the water.”

One of the more senior staff nurses set them off again. “Sorry about Claris. I simply had to get her out of my hair or I never would have got my patients settled. I suppose she thought I had him tucked away somewhere. When she phoned for the third time I told her to try the theater. Of course if I had known that you really did have him there I would have told her to try Timbuktu. But why didn
’
t she phone through to Theater?” She looked at Sally sharply. “Casualty is a long, long way for a walk.”

Without thinking Sally replied, “She did, but the green signal light in the staff room wasn
’
t
working...”

There were shouts of glee.

“Sally, you weren
’
t really alone with him in the staff room!
Come on ...
be a sport and give us the low-down on the American
line...”

Sally tried to mend her defenses. “George was there when he came.” Then she stopped and her cheeks were pink as she remembered the American
’
s entrance, but she went bravely on. “We talked for a
bit...”

“Just the two of you?” someone asked mercilessly.

Sally made another attempt. “George
was there ... at first ...
and then Claris came.”

“What did she want?”

Sally grinned wickedly. “Him, of course, and she wanted to know why he was up there and so forth.”

“Did he tell her?”

“He did, and she didn
’
t seem to like the answer. She
’
d gone running to him because someone hadn
’
t put out size four wellingtons and her dainty little feet were positively wallowing in size six or something so he
’
d come to do something about it.”

“And had he?”

“You needn
’
t sound so doubtful. Of course he had, and the request has been referred to the theater super.” There was finality in Sally
’
s tone.

The clock saved her from any more grilling and the staff nurses stood up to go back to their wards. They were chatting among themselves now but Sally had a suspicion that her few morsels would stave off their sleepiness for the rest of the night. She consoled herself that she hadn
’
t given anything away that they wouldn
’
t have found out for themselves. She had saved a few scraps for herself—George
’
s unexpected jealousy and that friendly kiss ... she
’
d have to watch her step with him ...
the warm informal discussion with
John ...
she could surely stop thinking of him as John B. Tremayne
now ...
and even that snippet of conversation she had
overheard...

The phone was ringing as she turned the final corner of the stairs. Bill must have tried the dining room and found out that she had left. She hoped it would be a case that would keep her busy. She had an idea it would be better not to hold a post-mortem of her evening
’
s experience just yet.

“Theater Staff Nurse Conway speaking,” Sally said breathlessly.

“Good nurses run only for fire or hemorrhage,” a voice said severely.

“George, you shouldn
’
t scare me like that! I thought it was a case,” Sally reproved him.

“It is a case,” George said firmly.

“But you
’
re off duty,” Sally insisted.

He sighed. “I know. I thought I was, too, but someone upset my Junior Casualty Officer so I
’
ve packed her off to bed—not personally, and you needn
’
t giggle. It isn
’
t respectful. I don
’
t suppose you would have an idea who upset dear Claris?”

“I suppose I did, for one,” Sally admitted hastily. “And I think you did for another.”

George smothered a groan. “I knew about you but I wasn
’
t sure about anyone else being involved and I never thought about me.”

Sally felt her curiosity stretching like a rubber band. “How did you know I had?”

“How? I walked into the Mess when she was raving about staff nurses in general and theater ones in particular. I know I have reason not to like Claris, but don
’
t make me hate thee as well! It isn
’
t what your sex says but the way you say it that makes a man want to light out for places unknown. Much more of this and I
’
ll join some expedition where women aren
’
t allowed!”