and stainless steel, and the group around the table looked all the more startling because of it: Elsie, her arm still held high, Mrs Down holding a blood-stained cloth over her arm, and a girl he didn’t know applying pressure with the calm air of someone who knew what she was doing.
‘Oh, sir,’ cried Mrs Down as he reached the table. Franny looked up briefly.
‘Are you the doctor? Good! I think perhaps it’s her radial artery.’
He grunted and opened his bag, and glanced at Franny. ‘Hang on until I’ve got the tourniquet on.’ That done, he said, ‘Go on the other side of me and hold her arm steady.’ He looked down at Elsie. ‘I’ll make you comfortable, Elsie, but I think you must go to hospital and have a stitch or two. It won’t hurt, I promise you.’
‘Shall I call an ambulance, sir?’ asked Barker, almost his pompous self once more now that there was someone to tell him what to do.
‘No. I’ll take her. Someone will have to come with me.’ His eyes fell on Franny. She was a nondescript girl, but she looked sensible. ‘You’ll come?’
Franny heard Barker’s quick breath, but before he could speak she said, ‘Yes, of course.’ She added in her sensible way, ‘Elsie will need a coat or a shawl; it’s cold outside.’
An old cloak was found from behind the kitchen door and Mrs Down stood with it on her arm, looking the other way while Elsie’s artery was tied off. It all took some time, what with the scrubbing of hands and the giving of a local anaesthetic into Elsie’s arm. Franny, who had worked in Theatre, considered the man to be a very neat surgeon.
When the arm had been bandaged and put in a sling, and Elsie wrapped in the cloak, Franny went without fuss out of the house, walking sedately behind the doctor who was carrying Elsie.
Elsie was still feeling faint, and Franny got into the back of the car with her. She put her arm round her, reflecting that she had never expected to have the chance to travel in a Rolls-Royce. It was a pity she wasn’t able to enjoy it to the full, but with Elsie shaking and sobbing it hardly seemed right to get any pleasure from it…
It was already dusk, and the chilly November day was sliding rapidly into a miserable evening. She wouldn’t have to stay at the hospital, of course, but getting back home during the evening rush hour would be tedious.
They drew up outside the entrance to Casualty and the doctor got out and went inside. He returned almost immediately with a porter and a wheelchair, followed by a doctor and then a nurse. He seemed well known, thought Franny, standing quietly as Elsie was wheeled away. Everyone went with her and Franny stood undecided for a few minutes.
If the doctor had wanted her to go with him too and to stay he would have said so. Elsie was in safe hands now; Franny had no doubt that she would be kept in the hospital for the night. She turned on her heel and started for the nearest bus stop. She would have liked to have seen more of the doctor. They had hardly exchanged more than half a dozen words and she doubted very much if he would recognise her if ever they should meet again.
Franny joined the bus-stop queue and waited to begin her long journey home.
It was half an hour before Professor Marc van der Kettener came out to his car. It wasn’t until he was getting into it that he remembered Franny. He went back into the hospital again to look for her, but it was quickly obvious that she hadn’t waited, and he cursed himself for a thoughtless fool. She had been helpful and she hadn’t fussed or asked silly questions. Why had she been at his godmother’s house, anyway?
He drove himself back there, assured Barker that Elsie was quite comfortable and would be staying in hospital for a couple of days and went upstairs to see his godmother.
She offered a cheek for his kiss when he entered her quarters. ‘What is all this I hear from Barker? That silly girl cutting herself…’
‘I hardly think that Elsie cut herself deliberately.’ The professor wandered across the room and sat down opposite Lady Trumper. ‘She has quite a severe injury; she should do nothing for a week and then only light work.’
‘How tiresome. I suppose Barker coped?’
‘I’m sure he did his best. Fortunately, there was a young woman in the kitchen who dealt with the situation in a most sensible manner.’ He glanced across at his godmother. ‘A new maid?’
‘Certainly not.’ Lady Trumper frowned. ‘Presumably Barker knew who she was?’
The professor smiled. ‘Well, she was giving him orders in a brisk manner. She was brisk with me, too.’
‘What was she like? Perhaps it was Mrs Down’s sister…’
‘Young, nice voice—educated. For the life of me I cannot remember her face. Came with me to the hospital without fuss and took herself off while I was with Elsie. Otherwise I would have brought her back here.’
Lady Trumper rang her bell, and when Barker answered bade him come in.
‘Barker, do you know the young woman who helped Elsie?’
‘Yes, my lady, she was the young person who came about the post you had advertised. I was on the point of seeing her out when Mrs Down came running. I had no idea that she had accompanied me to the kitchen until she took charge.’ He added, ‘I trust that this does not displease you, my lady? She proved herself very competent.’
‘Yes, yes, Barker. She hasn’t returned?’
‘No, my lady. I understood that you did not engage her.’
‘Very well, Barker. Thank you.’
When he had gone, she said, ‘A Miss Francesca Bowen who applied for the post of girl Friday. She didn’t seem quite suitable. I shall have to look for someone else.’
‘No, no, Godmother. Engage the girl. She is obviously a young woman of resources and surely that is what a girl Friday should be—able to turn her hand to anything!’
‘You are not serious, Marc?’
‘Indeed, I am. Presumably she won’t have found another job today. Write to her and tell her that you have decided to give her a trial.’
Lady Trumper looked doubtful. ‘You really think it is a good idea? But as you say, I can have her on month’s trial…’
‘By all means. Write her a note; I’ll post it on my way to my rooms.’
‘Have you patients this evening?’
‘Yes, two.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I had better go shortly. I’m dining out afterwards.’
Lady Trumper had gone to the writing desk under the window and picked up a pen. ‘When will you be going home?’
‘In several weeks. I’ve patients still to see and a number of theatre lists here. I have to go to Leeds and Manchester before I go back.’
‘You work too hard. Isn’t it time you settled down? Your dear sister mentioned someone… She hoped that you were thinking of marrying…’
‘I’m afraid she must hope!’ He smiled, but something in his voice
