If the Professor found this remark a little surprising, he gave no sign. He said soothingly, ‘I am sure you will have an opportunity to go out with, er, Melville again.’ He became businesslike. ‘This man who is coming up—gunshot wounds at close range—I’ve had a look and we’ll need a lot of luck on our side. How are you off for staff?’
She cast him a grateful look. He never failed to see that she had enough help. ‘If Billy is here, I can manage. I’ve a junior on—very new but eager—and Carter’s coming in.’
‘He’s a good man to have about. Right, I’ll take a look at what you’ve put out, shall I?’
They went over the instruments together and then he went away, leaving her to scrub and get into her gown and mask and gloves and lay up.
Dr Carr would be anaesthetising; she had expected that. The Professor and he had worked together for a year or two now. He appeared with his patient and a nurse from the accident room to attend to his wants and keep an eye on the drip they had set up. The Professor, with George and Billy, followed hard on his heels.
It took a very long time; it was an hour short of midnight when at last the Professor finished his patchwork, meticulously done with tiny stitches and infinite patience. He thanked them all, as he always did, and left George to do the tidying up before the man was taken to the intensive care unit.
Rachel started to clear up, and Nurse Saunders, still game, toiled with her until two night nurses appeared to help. Things went more quickly then and presently Rachel and Nurse Saunders were able to take off their gowns and masks and go off duty. But not yet, it seemed. As they went down the corridor George came to meet them. ‘There’s food and drink in the office—we’re all having a picnic; come on.’
The Professor had been exerting his charm again. There were sandwiches and a dish of sausages, a bowl of crisps and a great jug of coffee.
‘However did you get this lot?’ asked Rachel and sat Nurse Saunders down in front of the sausages.
‘It’s a kind of blackmail,’ he explained gravely. ‘You see, if the kitchen superintendent keeps me well fed, she feels pretty sure that, should she need my help at any time, I shall give it gladly and with expertise.’
Rachel forgot the time, that she was tired, that she had missed a glamorous evening with Melville. She looked round at her companions, very contentedly munching, and thought of the man they had worked so hard to save. She would have missed a dozen evenings out just for the satisfaction of knowing that the patient would recover, and as for her companions, she couldn’t think of any better. She caught the Professor’s eye and he smiled at her.
‘Not very elegant and none of us look fashionable, but there’s a satisfaction…’
She beamed at him, her mouth full. He was right, but then he always was.
CHAPTER TWO
PERHAPS IT WAS a good thing that there was a sudden spate of emergencies; Rachel had very little time to wonder why Melville didn’t phone her, although the nagging thought that he was angry with her was at the back of her mind. She could, of course, phone him, but even after the four days of silence from him she couldn’t bring herself to do that. She loved him, she had no need to tell herself that, but she also held a responsible job and he would have to try to understand that.
It was on the fifth evening, after a gruelling day, that she found him in the entrance hall as she was going off duty. Her tired face lit up at the sight of him although her, ‘Hello, Melville,’ was uttered in a matter-of-fact voice.
Melville wasn’t in the least matter-of-fact. He swooped upon her, his handsome face all smiles. ‘Darling, you’re off duty? Nip along and put on something pretty—I’ve got a table at the Savoy and we’ll find somewhere to dance.’
She said uncertainly, ‘I’m tired, Melville; it’s been a busy day. If we could go somewhere quiet…’
‘Nonsense, darling, what you need is some fun and a drink or two. I’ll give you fifteen minutes.’
She thought longingly of supper, a hot bath and blissful bed, but what were they compared to Melville? She said quietly, ‘All right, fifteen minutes.’
She showered and changed into what she hoped would pass muster at the Savoy and, because she had cut it rather fine, took the short cut past the consultants’ room. There would be no one about as late as this, she told herself, but skidded to a halt as the door opened and the Professor came out.
His look of astonishment left her without words. ‘My dear girl,’ he said. ‘You’re going out on the town?’ His lazy gaze swept over her nicely made-up face and the blue dress she hoped would meet the occasion. ‘You were rocking on your feet,’ he observed. ‘It should have been supper, bath and bed.’ He added. ‘I’ve that nephrectomy first thing tomorrow—you’ll need to be on your toes.’
Rachel stared up at his placid face. ‘He’s here— Melville. I’ve not heard from him all week, ever since…He wants to take me out to dinner and then go dancing.’ She hesitated. ‘You see, Professor, I can’t not go—so often he asks me out and I’m not free, and I’m so afraid he’ll…’
A large comforting hand came down on her shoulder. ‘Of course—a dry old stick such as myself tends to overlook the first fine raptures of first love. Why not give yourself a morning off? Norah can scrub.’
She said indignantly, ‘Certainly not, Professor,’ and went on ruefully, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that. It’s kind of you to suggest it, but I shall be all right.’
‘Good. Run along then, and enjoy yourself.’
She wished him goodnight and almost ran the rest of the way, wondering why on earth she should imagine that behind that placid face he was amused about something.
Melville was impatient although he hid it very successfully. ‘They’ll keep our table’, he assured her as he hurried her out to the car. ‘You’re wearing that blue dress again—a mistake, darling, you haven’t enough colour for it.’
Rachel, indignation for once swamping her love, snapped, ‘I’ve been hard at work all day and I’m tired—I did tell you…’
He had got into the car beside her and now he leaned over and kissed her. ‘My poor darling, you’ll feel fine after a meal.’
She did her best; the food was delicious and Melville at his most amusing, but her heart wasn’t in it. When they had had their coffee she said contritely, ‘Melville, do you mind very much if we don’t go dancing? I really am tired.’
She was happily surprised when he leaned across the table and took her hand in his. ‘My poor sweet, I’ll take you straight back. Get to bed and have a good sleep—get someone to bring you your breakfast…’
There wasn’t much point in telling him that she would be getting up at seven o’clock, and as for being brought breakfast in bed…There was, she realised, a wide gap between his world and hers, but that gap would disappear in time. She gave him a grateful smile. ‘I’ve spoilt your evening and I’m sorry—I’ll do better next time.’
He pressed her hand and smiled at her. A charming smile which made her happy, as it was meant
