At the hospital she had the leisure to change into uniform, write out her resignation and present herself at the office. The Senior Nursing Officer was considerably astonished, but in the course of her long and successful career she had learned when not to ask questions. Beyond expressing a sincere regret at Phyllida’s decision to leave, she said nothing other than to wish her a successful future and advise her to give the office due warning as to the exact date of her departure.
‘You have a week’s holiday still, Sister Cresswell, and I expect you can arrange to add your days off to that. I shall have to appoint someone in your place, but in the meantime I think that Staff Nurse Jenkins is quite capable of carrying on. Do you agree?’
‘She’s very good, Miss Cutts, and the patients like her. The nurses work well for her too.’
‘In that case I see no reason why she shouldn’t apply for the post.’ Miss Cutts nodded kindly in gracious dismissal.
Phyllida, speeding to the ward, felt intense surprise at what she had done. Probably if she had stopped to think about it, she would have decided against leaving, but now it was done she felt relief as well. She still had to see Philip and explain, but she would bide her time and choose the right moment for that.
But the matter was taken out of her hands. He came on to the ward to take a look at a suspected duodenal ulcer which would probably need operation, and instead of leaving at once he followed Phyllida to her office, shut the door behind him and asked her quietly: ‘What’s this I hear about you leaving?’
‘Oh, dear—so soon?’ She turned to face him across the small room. ‘I only saw Miss Cutts half an hour ago and I haven’t told a soul—I was going to talk to you about it, Philip.’ She pushed her cap away from her forehead. ‘Not now, though—I’ve heaps to do.’
‘You’re off at five o’clock? I’ll meet you at Tony’s at half past six.’ He went away without another word, leaving her to wonder for the rest of the day if she had made the mistake of her lifetime. Even now, if he overwhelmed her…she wondered at the back of her mind if he felt strongly enough about her to do that. With a tremendous effort she dismissed the whole thing and attacked her work; there was enough of that to keep her mind off other things; the duodenal ulcer not responding to medical treatment; Mrs Gregson springing a mild coronary upon them; the young girl in the corner bed with undulant fever, so depressed that no one knew what to do next to get her cheerful again, and the sixteen-year-old anorexia nervosa next to her, taking precious time and patience with every unwanted meal…
Tony’s was a small unassuming restaurant within five minutes’walk of the hospital and much patronised by the doctors and nurses. Phyllida arrived punctually and found a table for two by one of the windows. There was no view, only the drab street outside, and she sat staring at it until Philip slid into the seat opposite her.
His ‘Hullo—shall we have the usual?’was uttered in his normal calm way and when she nodded: ‘And now what’s all this nonsense about leaving?’
‘It’s not nonsense, Philip. I’ve given Miss Cutts my notice and I leave in three weeks’ time—just under, as a matter of fact. And I’ve got a job.’
Just for a moment his calm was shaken. ‘A job? So you’d arranged it all some time ago?’
‘No.’She explained carefully and added: ‘I’m sorry, Philip, I like you very much, I told you that, but the best thing to do is for us to stop seeing each other.’
He said with faint smugness, ‘You’re afraid I’ll wear you down.’
She stared at him, her blue eyes clear and honest. ‘I don’t know,’ she told him earnestly, ‘but if you did, it wouldn’t be right.’
The waitress brought them the soup of the day and Phyllida studied it as though it was something of vital importance. Presently she said: ‘It’s difficult to explain, but when I marry I want to be so in love with the man that nothing else matters; there’d be no doubts and no wondering about the future and where we’d live or how.’ She looked up from her soup and gazed at him from under her fringe.
‘And you don’t feel like that about me? Phylly, grow up! You’re living in a fairy tale—there’s no such thing as that kind of love, only in romantic novels. I’m surprised at you, I thought you were such a sensible, matter-of-fact girl, with no nonsense about you.’
Phyllida picked up her spoon and gave the Heinz tomato a stir. That was the trouble, she thought silently, he’d got her all wrong. She was romantic and full of nonsense; he had confused the practical, sensible young woman who ran the medical ward so efficiently with her real self, and looking at him now, she could see that he still thought it.
He was half way through his soup by now. ‘Well, trot off if you must,’ he told her cheerfully, ‘and come back when you’re ready. I daresay I’ll still be here.’
She sat silently while the soup was replaced by pork chops, frozen peas and a pile of chips which might have daunted any girl but her, who ate like a horse and never put on an inch. When the waitress had gone again, she said patiently: ‘I’m not coming back; this job is only for three weeks—I don’t know what I’ll do after that.’
It annoyed her that he still looked complacent, but to say more wasn’t going to help. Deeds, not words, she told herself silently.
‘What is this job?’ he wanted to know.
She told him, and being an opportunist, picked his brains. ‘I don’t know a great deal about it—I’ve never seen a case, though I’ve nursed one or two lymphoblastic leukaemias and they did rather well.’
‘This one isn’t likely to—it’s rare, so rare that there aren’t enough statistics, but it’s a terminal illness, I’m afraid. Have you got the notes yet?’
‘No. Sir Keith Maltby has been looking after her, but he’s in Scotland. Father will get the notes from him, though, he’s already telephoned him about it. He doesn’t object to Gaby going on this cruise—he says she can do what she likes provided her parents understand that the moment she shows signs of deterioration they must get her to hospital or fly her back without delay. The ship’s doctor will have all the facts; Mr de Wolff has undertaken to see about that. There’s plenty of money, I believe, so there’s no reason why anything should go wrong from that side of it.’
As she spoke, she wondered uneasily why she didn’t quite believe what she was saying. Perhaps because she had taken a faint dislike to Mr and Mrs de Wolff—quite an unfounded one, based entirely on his brisk attitude towards his daughter’s illness, and his wife’s calculated charm. Phyllida gave herself a mental shake, agreed with Philip that it would be interesting to see Madeira and the Canaries even if her chance to do so might be limited, and then applied herself to responding suitably to his unshakable friendliness.
It remained unshakable too for the next few weeks, and she felt guilty because she was unable to feel regret at her decision, largely because Philip made no secret of the fact that he expected her to come running once she had brought Gaby back home again.
‘Any ideas about the next job?’ he asked her airily. ‘A bit difficult while you’re away, isn’t it? It’ll mean an enforced holiday while you find something to suit you and then go after it. You might not get it either.’ He sounded so satisfied that she could cheerfully have thrown something at him.
Leaving the ward was harder than leaving Philip, she discovered;
