and silver cut short by a master hand.
He straightened up and spoke to the sister. ‘I think something to settle her, don’t you, Marian?’ He glanced at the thin gold watch on his wrist. ‘Let’s see, it’s getting on for eleven o’clock.’ He glanced at Lucy. ‘A few hours of sleep will do you both good …’ He took the chart from the sister’s hand and wrote. ‘That should see to it.’ He walked to the door. ‘Go to bed, Miss Lockitt; Sister will see that someone wakes you before Miranda rouses. Goodnight.’
He had gone before she could reply. She waited until the sister came back with an injection and then sat soothing Miranda until she dozed off and she was able to tuck her up in her cot once more. She wasn’t very happy about going back to bed, but she was sure that Dr Thurloe wouldn’t have suggested it if he hadn’t been quite convinced that Miranda would sleep quietly for a few hours. So she got back into bed again and presently fell asleep, to wake very early in the morning and go and take a look at Miranda, who was still sleeping peacefully. Lucy took her pulse and was relieved to find that it was just what it was supposed to be. She was dressed and tied into her ample overall long before a nurse poked her head round the door. ‘Oh, good, you’re up already. I’ll bring you a cup of tea just as soon as I’ve got the time. If she wakes can you wash her and pot her?’
Lucy nodded. ‘Oh, yes. I expect I’ll need clean sheets and another nightie.’
‘In that cupboard in the corner, and there’s a plastic bag where you can put the stuff that needs washing …’
The nurse’s head disappeared to be replaced almost at once by the bulk of Dr Thurloe, immaculate and looking as though he had had ten hours’ sleep. He was alone this time and his ‘good morning’ was friendly, so that Lucy regretted that she hadn’t bothered to powder her nose or put on lipstick.
‘Had a good night? You’re up early.’
‘So are you,’ observed Lucy, and wished she hadn’t said it; she must remember that they weren’t at a dinner party but in hospital, where he was someone important and she wasn’t of any account, especially in the bunchy garment she was wearing. And she felt worse because he didn’t answer her, only bent over the cot.
‘We’ll have a look,’ he said with impersonal politeness, and waited expectantly.
Lucy took down the cot side. She said in her sensible way, ‘She’s wet—I didn’t like to change her until I’d seen Sister. Do you mind?’
The look he gave her was amused and kind too. ‘I dare say I’ve dealt with more wet infants than you’ve had hot dinners. No, I don’t mind! I’m glad she’s had a good night. I don’t intend to give her anything today though, and you may have your work cut out keeping her happy.’
He was halfway through his examination when the junior night sister came in. She said sharply, ‘I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know you were here.’ And then to Lucy. ‘You should have rung the bell, Miss Lockitt.’
‘My fault,’ said the doctor smoothly, ‘I told her not to bother.’ Which was kind of him, reflected Lucy, listening to him giving the night sister his instructions. ‘And I’ll be in some time during the day. I think Miranda will be all right, but we must look out for mental disturbance—there may be a deficiency …’
Lucy couldn’t understand everything he was saying, but she presumed it wasn’t necessary; she was there to keep Miranda quiet and happy until she was deemed fit to return to the orphanage. She supposed that would be in a couple of days’ time and that she would be told in due course. The doctor strolled to the door with the junior night sister beside him. As he went out of the room, he said over his shoulder, ‘Thank you, Miss Lockitt. Be sure and let someone know if you’re anxious about anything, never mind how trivial it may seem.’
Lucy watched him go, wishing with her whole heart that she were the junior night sister, not only on good terms with him, but able to understand what he was talking about and give the right answers. Not for the first time she wished fervently that she were clever and not just practical and sensible.
There was no point in dwelling upon that; Miranda was showing signs of waking up, and she fetched clean linen from the cupboard and ran warm water into the deep sink in one corner of the room. She was very grateful when the nurse brought her a cup of tea, for the next half-hour was busy and noisy: Miranda was fretful and screamed her annoyance at the top of her voice. It was nothing new, and Lucy did all that was necessary, talking in her quiet voice all the while. When the ward sister came on duty and poked her head round the door with a ‘Can you cope alone?’ Lucy said placidly that she was quite all right, thank you, and the head disappeared without another word. She had Miranda tucked up in bed by the time a nurse came with the toddler’s breakfast. ‘Ring when she’s had it,’ she advised, ‘and someone will relieve you while you go to the canteen.’ She grinned widely. ‘I bet you’re ready for breakfast. Did you get a cup of tea?’
‘Yes, thanks. Are you very busy?’
The nurse cast her eyes to heaven. ‘You can say that again.’ She darted off leaving Lucy to feed Miranda, who, clean and smiling again, was more than pleased to eat her breakfast.
The same nurse came back when Lucy rang the bell. ‘Half an hour,’ she warned. ‘We’ve got theatre cases this morning, so it’s all go. Someone will bring you coffee, though, and you’ll get time for your dinner. I don’t know about off-duty, I expect that Sister will tell you.’
Lucy went thankfully to the canteen; she was hungry, and besides, it was nice to have a change of scene. She was fond of Miranda and she saw a lot of her at the orphanage, but all the same she could see that her patience and good temper were going to be tried for the next day or two.
There weren’t many people in the canteen. She took her tray to a table by a window and ate with her eye on the clock, and then hurried back to find Miranda sobbing and refusing to be comforted. It took a little while to soothe her again, but presently the little girl fell asleep and Lucy was free to walk round the little room and look out of the window. The hospital forecourt was below. She watched Dr Thurloe’s car come to a dignified halt in the consultants’ car park, and then studied him as he got out and crossed to the hospital entrance. He walked fast, but halfway there he paused and looked up to the window where she stood. There wasn’t time to draw back; she stood there while he looked and presently went on his way.
She was in the canteen having her dinner when he came to see Miranda again, and that evening it was his registrar who paid a visit. And in the morning when he came with the ward sister his good morning to Lucy was pleasant but cool, and anything he had to say was said to the sister.
Miranda was to go back to the orphanage the next day; everything was going well and the matron there would know how to deal with any emergency. Miranda was to come to his next out-patients’ clinic in two weeks’ time. He paused to thank Lucy as he went away. She was watching him go with regret; at the same time her wish to marry him had never been so strong.
She took Miranda back the next day without having seen him again. He was in the hospital; his car was parked in the forecourt. She glimpsed it as she got into the ambulance which was to take them to the orphanage. She consoled herself with the thought that she would be taking Miranda to his clinic in two weeks’ time. In the meantime she might be able to think of something to attract his attention. A different hairstyle? Different make-up? A striking outfit? Better still, a few amusing, witty remarks … She occupied her brief ride trying to think of them.
It was early afternoon by the time she had handed over Miranda and reported to Matron, to be told that, since she had
