she told him brightly. “I’m supposed to be going out.” She held out a hand. “It was nice to see you again, goodbye.”
He shook her hand gently and said just as gently, “Indeed, a pleasant surprise for me, too, Nurse.”
She gave him a quick smile and crossed the hall very fast and went out of the door to cross the road to the nurses’ home. Now if she had been Sadie she would have managed better; turned on the charm, made some amusing remarks…only she wasn’t Sadie. She went to her room and not allowing herself to brood, undressed, lay in the bath until impatient thumps on the door got her out of it, drank her tea in the company of such of her friends as were off duty too, and went to bed early, pleading a headache.
She wasn’t allowed peace and quiet for long. Sadie, coming off duty a couple of hours later, burst into her room with an excited, “Rose, Rose, wake up, do. He’s here—our Dutchman, I’ve just met him in the hall and guess what, he’s a surgeon and knows old Cresswell—” Mr Cresswell was the senior consultant at the hospital, an elderly grumpy man who somehow became a magician once he had a scalpel in his hand “—I asked him why he was here.”
“You didn’t,” expostulated Rose in horror.
“I did. Why not? And he said I’d know soon enough. What do you suppose he wants?”
Rose sat up in bed and hugged her knees. “Sadie, I don’t know. Probably to consult with someone, or give a lecture or borrow something.”
“He remembered me,” said Sadie, ignoring this remark. “He said, ‘Ah, my charming visitor.’ He told me he was delighted to see me again. I hope he’s here in the morning. He might ask us out to lunch or a drink or something.”
Rose eyed her friend soberly. “You perhaps, not me, and anyway, it might not be quite the thing; he’s much more likely to have lunch with old Cresswell and the other consultants.”
Sadie grinned at her. “The trouble with you, Rosie, is that you have no romance in you, not one ounce.”
Rose curled up in bed. “Well, let me know what happens. We’ll both be at first dinner tomorrow.”
It was half way through the morning when Sister Cummins came down the ward to where she was bending over one of the cots, adjusting an intravenous drip. “Staff, will you go to the office? Now. Miss Timms wants to see you.”
“Me, heavens, whatever have I done?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’ll take over here. Leave your apron in my office and tidy your hair.”
Two minutes later Rose, hair smoothed beneath her muslin cap, went as fast as she dared without actually running through the labyrinth of passages to the centre of the hospital where Miss Timms had her office, tucked away behind an outer office, guarded by her two assistants. There was another door to her office too, opening directly on to the passage Rose was racing along. As she reached it she skidded to a halt. Miss Timms had a loud voice. “I’m sorry that I must disappoint you, Mijnheer Werdmer ter Sane, Nurse Gordon is a very good nurse and I agree with you that she has a pleasant manner, but she isn’t very skilled in the nursing of children and toddlers. Now Nurse Comely is our gold medallist and is at present staffing on the acute children’s ward; she has already spent some months there during her training and is absolutely trustworthy and highly skilled.”
Rose was standing like a statue; quite forgetful that it was a most reprehensible thing to eavesdrop; moreover, listeners never heard good of themselves, a fact borne out by the Dutchman’s remark. His voice wasn’t as loud as Miss Timms’, but it was deep and very clear; she didn’t miss a syllable.
“Then I must bow to your good advice,” he was saying. “I am sure that if you recommend her so highly, Nurse Comely will suit the case very well. But it seemed to me that she lacks a certain light-heartedness—she is a very quiet girl, is she not?”
Miss Timms didn’t answer at once, and Rose held her breath and beat down her sudden rage. Quiet was she, lacking in light-heartedness, was she? Why didn’t he go all the way and say that she was plain?
“Not a girl that one would notice,” pursued Mijnheer Werdmer ter Sane blandly, “but of course she will spend a good deal of time with her patient. You see, Miss Timms, I had hoped for someone who would be able to cheer up the child’s mother—distract her thoughts and so on, and it seemed to me that Miss Gordon filled the bill.”
Rose ground her splendid little teeth and let out a breath as he went on, “But I bow to your wisdom—if I might have a few words with her?”
“She should be here by now.” Miss Timms’ voice held a faint triumph at getting her own way. It also sent Rose soft-footed past the door, to tap on the outer office and be admitted, to be urged into Miss Timms’ office without more ado.
After living for several years with her stepmother, she had learnt to hide her feelings. She was slightly pale and she was breathing rather fast but that could be put down to her sudden summons. She said politely, “Good morning, Miss Timms, you wanted to see me?” and then, “Good morning, Sir,” in a colourless voice. Her glance was so quick that she didn’t see his sudden sharp look which was perhaps a good thing.
CHAPTER TWO
MISS TIMMS SAID, “Ah, Staff Nurse Comely,” in a voice which suggested that she was about to pronounce judgment on Rose’s head. “I must explain why I have sent for you.”
Rose sat, inwardly seething. She looked the picture of composure with her pretty hands folded tidily on her lap and her dark eyes upon Miss Timms’ face. Mijnheer Werdmer ter Sane sat down too, to one side and a little behind her, very relaxed in his chair although he was watching her from under hooded lids. He still watched her as Miss Timms began to speak in her most impressive voice.
“Mijnheer Werdmer ter Sane is a surgeon, a friend and colleague of Mr Cresswell and he has come to me with a request which Mr Cresswell begs me to grant.” She paused, inflated her massive bosom with a deep, dramatic breath, then went on. “Doctor ter Brandt, who lives in The Hague, is a friend of both Mr Cresswell and Mijnheer Werdmer ter Sane. He is married to an Englishwoman, a trained nurse from St Athud’s, they have a two-year-old son and Mrs…” she glanced at the man sitting quietly listening and said coyly, “I suppose one calls her Mevrouw?”
“It would be quite suitable if you were to refer to her as Mrs, indeed I would suggest that you address me as Mister.”
Miss Timms bowed her head in majestic acknowledgement. “Thank you. As I was saying, Mrs ter Brandt is expecting her second child within a few weeks and is therefore unable to deal with the painful situation which has arisen.” She paused again and if her listeners were impatient they gave no sign.
“Two days ago the little boy fell and before his mother could pick him up, had rolled down stone steps leading to the garden. He has sustained a depressed fractured skull and is in the children’s hospital in Amsterdam where Mr Werdmer ter Sane is a consultant. His mother is most anxious that he should have an English nurse since she is unable to do much for him herself. Mr Werdmer ter Sane got in touch with Mr Cresswell who kindly suggested that a nurse from St Bride’s might be borrowed. I have recommended you for the case, Staff Nurse, you will leave this afternoon. That will be all.”
Not quite all, however. Mr Werdmer ter Sane got to his feet and observed blandly, “Perhaps I might ask Nurse Comely if she will accept. She may not wish to take the case although I hope that
