She spent the weekend trying to think of a good excuse for changing her evening off. It was nothing short of a miracle that Williams should come to her during Monday and ask if she could possibly have Wednesday evening free. Maggy breathed a sigh of relief and, taking care not to appear too pleased, agreed.
Wednesday evening was fairly quiet. She did the medicine round and started the report before going to supper, and when she came back went to see Mevrouw Doelsma, who was sitting up in bed, ready for someone to talk to. She looked rather excited, Maggy thought, as she tidied her pillows, she supposed that she was pleased because she was making such good progress. Another two weeks and there would be talk of her going home. It was almost eight-thirty. She switched off the ceiling light, leaving the little bedside lamp burning, and went to the door and opened it, then turned round again to say,
‘I’m going to give the report, Mevrouw Doelsma. Ring if you want anything; I’ll be in to say goodnight later.’ She stepped backwards on to a foot, and didn’t need to hear the chuckle above her left ear to know whose it was. A very large gentle hand clipped her round the waist.
‘And do you number me among your enemies that you trample me so ruthlessly under foot? At best a poor way of greeting me after almost two weeks!’
She stood within the circle of his arm, fighting to breathe normally.
‘Ye ken well you’re no enemy of mine, Dr Doelsma—and I didna’ expect ye.’
He dropped his arm and she turned to face him with what dignity she could muster.
He smiled at her. ‘No, you didn’t, did you, Sister MacFergus? I should have warned you not to try the same trick twice.’
She opened her mouth to speak, but only succeeded in making a small choking sound.
‘That’s right,’ he said kindly. ‘I wouldn’t say anything you may regret later. And if you want to know how I found out, I have no intention of telling you.’ He looked down at his well brushed shoes. ‘Aren’t you going to say you’re sorry? I’m in great pain…’
Maggy laughed, ‘Oh, Dr Doelsma, what’s to be done with you?’
‘I’m open to suggestions,’ he murmured.
Maggy frowned. ‘Yes, well,’ she said briskly, ‘I’ll away to give the report.’ She smiled at Mevrouw Doelsma and swept past him without a glance.
He went over to the bed then, kissed his mother, and tumbled a pile of books on to the bed-table. ‘I’ve been to see Uncle Charles,’ he said. ‘He’s very satisfied, Mother. If we can get Maggy to accompany you home, I should think you could go in a fortnight. You’ll have to lead a quiet life for several weeks, you know.’
He drew up a chair, and they became immersed in plans.
There was a subdued hum of voices coming from behind the shut door of the office. Maggy opened the door and stood looking around her, too surprised to speak. The night nurses as well as Sibley and Sims were there, feverishly arranging a vast number of red roses into vases. Sibley looked up when the door opened, and said. ‘Sister, Dr Doelsma asked us to put them in water—he brought them for you.’
Maggy closed her mouth, which had dropped open. ‘But there are dozens. They can’t all be for me, there must be some mistake.’
‘No, Sister. He said, “These are all for Sister MacFergus.” There’s six dozen of them,’ she added in an awed voice.
‘How nice.’ Maggy’s voice sounded faint in her own ears. ‘Thank you for arranging them.’ She sent the day nurses off duty, and sitting in a bower of roses, gave the report. After she had done a round with the night nurse she went back to the office. The little room smelled delicious, she crossed the landing to Sep and went in. The doctor unfolded himself from his chair.
‘I hear that my mother’s progress is excellent, Sister.’ He looked and sounded exactly like any other consultant—friendly, cool and remote.
She answered suitably, sedately, wished her patient a good night and went back to the door, feeling awkward. He opened it for her, and stood back politely, waiting for her to pass through. She stopped in the doorway, and raised her eyes to his, she sounded breathless.
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