here?’
‘Because he doesn’t want everyone to know about it. It’s bound to leak out, of course, but not at once, and Professor Jurres-Romeijn is going up to Edinburgh in a few weeks and Mr Wright wouldn’t stand the journey. Besides that, you know as well as I do that speed is of the essence for him.’
Emily re-filled their mugs. ‘Yes. Has he a good chance, do you think?’
Mr Spencer thought for a moment. ‘Jurres-Romeijn is about the best there is; he’s done a number of pharyngectomies and had a high percentage of successes. Of course it’s a severe operation, you know that, and it means Mr Wright will have to learn oesophageal speech or have an electric larynx fitted, but from what I hear of him he sounds very able to cope with the difficulties.’ He smiled at Emily, visibly wilting but listening carefully. ‘Besides, he’ll have you to nurse him; you’ve got yourself a marvellous reputation since you’ve been with us, Emily, and it was just as good at Paul’s, wasn’t it?’
She smiled a little and just for a moment was tempted to tell him that she had overheard his conversation with the Professor, but that wouldn’t do any good to anybody and she would regret it afterwards. She finished her coffee and said: ‘I’d better go to the office, I suppose.’
And that was a speedy business; she was in and out again within five minutes. Apparently the Professor had made his wishes known and had paved the way for her. Not because he was taken with her, Emily reminded herself wryly as she wobbled home in the slush which was all that was left of the snow. It was warmer too, but then it was still only the middle of November, time enough for snow during the next month or two.
She told Louisa her news over breakfast and her sister said at once: ‘Oh, good, I wanted to go to London—to see about the flat, you know, and I was wondering how I could manage it before your next nights off. I’ll go tomorrow.’
Emily agreed, pointing out that once she started on her case, she might not have much free time for a little while. ‘Oh, well, perhaps he’ll die,’ observed Louisa airily.
‘Not if I can help it. He’s got a splendid surgeon and there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be perfectly OK.’
Louisa shrugged her shoulders. ‘Well, darling, let’s hope he’ll get over it. It sounds grisly to me; I don’t know how you can stand it, and for a pittance, too. I’ll earn as much in a week as you do in a month once I get a modelling job.’ She smiled, well pleased at the thought. ‘I’ll wash up if you like while you see to the twins, then I’ll take them out while you have a sleep.’
Emily sighed gratefully and then sighed again as Louisa went on: ‘There’s a film on this evening, that girl across the road asked me to go with her—you won’t mind?’
Emily said that she didn’t; Louisa was only eighteen and being eighteen didn’t last long. She dealt with the twins’ small wants, put them down for their morning nap and went to bed herself.
Her nights off went very quickly. She had more than enough to do when Louisa went to London, but she enjoyed her day; the twins, although hard work, were delightful. She pushed them for miles through the common behind the road where she lived and returned to give the house a good clean. And the next day was almost wholly taken up with shopping and listening to Louisa’s ecstatic description of the flat and her future flatmates. Emily, tired out, slept like a log, got up early to see to the twins, advised her sister that she had no idea when she would be home, and cycled to the hospital.
Mr Wright was to have one of the private rooms attached to the Men’s ENT ward. After a briefing from Sister she retired into it, readied it for its occupant, checked the equipment she would be using, arranged the flowers which her patient’s friends had sent to welcome him, and went down to her dinner, where she shared a table with several of her friends.
‘Lucky you,’ observed one of them, ‘working for that Professor Jurres-Romeijn. I could go for someone like him—I suppose he’s married, they always are.’ The speaker cocked a questioning eyebrow at Emily, who shook her head.
‘I’ve no idea, but I should think so, I mean, he’s not awfully young, is he?’
‘Who cares?’ The ENT staff nurse, Carol Drew, joined in. ‘I’m going to have to go.’
Emily said mildly: ‘Why not?’ And why not indeed? Carol was pretty, as pretty as Louisa, all pink and white and golden with large blue eyes to melt a stone, and surely the Professor as well. She got up to fetch the puddings and when she got back someone asked: ‘Why you, Emily?’
She spooned steamed pudding before she answered. ‘Well, Mr Wright comes from Paul’s and I worked for him there.’
‘The Professor didn’t actually choose you, then? I mean, Mr Wright wanted you, I suppose?’
‘I suppose so.’ Emily bolted the rest of her pudding and got up. ‘I’d better get back, he was supposed to be here before one o’clock, but he hasn’t turned up yet…’
‘Don’t blame him,’ declared Carol. ‘I wouldn’t turn up either.’ She got up too. ‘I’ll come back with you, Emily, you never know, the Professor might be there.’ She whipped out a compact and peered into it. ‘Do I look all right?’
‘You always look all right. I daresay when he sees you he’ll ask us to do a swap,’ said Emily.
But she was wrong. The Professor was waiting in his patient’s room, sitting on the side of the carefully made bed, rucking up the quilt in a careless fashion. He got up as Emily, with Carol hard on her heels, went in, and beyond a coldly polite ‘Good morning,’ showed no signs of being bowled over by Carol’s looks, let alone suggesting that she might do instead of Emily. Indeed, he waited silently and rather pointedly until Carol had gone before addressing himself to Emily.
‘You’re quite ready, Nurse Seymour? Mr Wright will be here within the hour. You will be good enough to let me know when he arrives. I shall probably be in theatre. I should like him to undress and get to bed as soon as possible; there are a number of tests to be done and I shall wish to examine him.’
He strolled to the door. ‘You enjoyed your nights off?’ he asked her surprisingly.
‘Me? Oh—yes, thank you.’
‘Good. I hope Mr Spencer made it plain to you that your off duty is likely to be irregular and curtailed for the next few days. I hope to operate tomorrow—in the morning; you will probably be on duty until late in the evening.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘If I am not quite satisfied with Mr Wright’s condition, you may have to stay on call.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He glanced at her curiously. ‘You can make arrangements for this?’
She just stopped herself from saying ‘Yes, sir,’ yet again, and changed it to: ‘Certainly I can.’
He nodded unsmilingly, said, ‘H’m,’ and went away, leaving her to fly to Sister’s office and telephone Louisa, who wasn’t at all pleased at the idea of being left with the twins, even for one night.
‘Well,’ observed Emily, ‘you’ll be all right, love, and probably I’ll be home, and it’s not until tomorrow night, you know—I’ll be back tonight. Only I thought I’d better
