the child. Rose said good night to the other girl and followed him back the way they had come and into a small office. Night Sister was a large bony woman with a calm, middle-aged face. She got up from the desk as they went in, smiled at them both and asked in English, “This is our English nurse?” She shook hands and listened while Mr Werdmer ter Sane talked and then said, “We will go at once to the hostel, you must be tired, and tomorrow morning at seven o’clock we will see you here on duty. We are glad to welcome you, Nurse Comely.”
She glanced towards their companion. “You are going home, Doctor?”
“No, not just yet. I’ll wish you good night.” He nodded to them both and walked back the way they had come.
“He is anxious,” explained Night Sister, “he is—how do you say?—godfather to the little Duert. We go this way.”
Rose hardly noticed where they were going; she was famished and wanted a bed and a bath more than anything else in the world. It was several floors down and any number of passages before they went through a door and up more stairs leading to silent corridors lined with doors. Night Sister opened one. “Your room, Zuster Comely.”
Rose went past her into a small, nicely furnished room, very clean and bright. “I’m not a sister,” she said shyly. “Only a staff nurse.”
Night Sister laughed. “Ah, but here we call all nurses ‘Zuster’ and the sister is ‘Hoofdzuster’. The bathroom is at the end of this passage, there are six—but first someone will be coming very soon with your supper. And in the morning a nurse will show you where to go. You will be called at six o’clock.” She smiled again. “I hope you will be happy with us. Good night.”
Left to herself, Rose unpacked and then since her supper hadn’t arrived, undressed and got into her dressing-gown. She was brushing her hair when there was a tap on the door and a young woman came in with a tray. She nodded and smiled and put the tray on the writing-desk under the window and when Rose asked, “What shall I do with the tray?” giggled gently, shrugged her shoulders and went away.
The supper was all that she could have wished for: soup and savoury pancakes and a bowl of yoghurt and a jug of piping-hot coffee. Rose disposed of everything and crept down to the bathroom past the silent rooms. The water was hot and she lay for a while going over the events of the day, then mindful of the early start in the morning she got out reluctantly and presently was back in her room. A rather nice room, she thought drowsily, putting out the bedside light.
It seemed that she had only just shut her eyes when she was being gently shaken awake. A girl was bending over her and she sat up in bed, not sure where she was for the moment. The girl smiled. “You get up,” she said, and “I fetch you.” At the door she paused, clutching her dressing-gown about her. “Okay?”
“Okay,” said Rose and jumped out of bed.
She was fetched by a whole bunch of girls who shook hands in a friendly fashion and exclaimed over the old fashioned uniform St Bride’s nurses still wore. They bore her along with them, back down the stairs and into the hospital and then underground. The canteen was large and cheerful with tables for four or six and a long counter along one end. Rose, who was hungry again, was disappointed to see that there was only bread and butter and slices of cheese and great urns of coffee. Perhaps just as well, she decided, catching sight of the clock, there wouldn’t be time for any more.
Conversation was sparse but friendly at the table, because eating and drinking were more important than gossip and presently they swept her along once more and left her at the children’s unit.
Rose went in through the swing doors to the familiar sounds of shouts and cries and the general din made by a number of toddlers even if they weren’t so well. The office she had been taken to was close by, she tapped on the door and went in.
Night Sister was there, still on duty, and there was another, younger woman with her who got up from the stool she was sitting on.
“Nurse Comely. I am glad to meet you. I am the hoofdzuster of the ward and presently I will explain your duty times to you, but now I think it best if you go to relieve the night nurse, please. Mr Werdmer ter Sane will be in presently and he will wish to see you also.”
Rose went along the corridor and opened the end-room door. Wiebeke was sitting at a small table filling in the charts, but she looked round as Rose went in and beamed at her. “You have slept? Yes? We have had a good night. Duert is still unconscious. I tell you the report now?”
Wiebeke’s English was sometimes quaint, but understandable, besides the treatments and feeds and charts were the same as she was used to at St Bride’s, only in another language. When she had made quite sure that she had understood Wiebeke’s report, Rose bade her goodbye and set about her day’s tasks.
She had just finished giving Duert a nasal feed when Mr Werdmer ter Sane came in. His good morning was quiet and he went at once to look and having seen the child sat down to read through the reports and charts.
When he had finished he asked: “Have you anything to report, Nurse Comely?”
“Nothing more than is written there, Sir.”
He got up and went over to the cot. “Let’s see now…” He went over the small body very carefully, looking for some sign of awakening consciousness, and found none. Presently he straightened up. “I’ll be back presently,” he told her. “Mevrouw ter Brandt will be coming in this afternoon. I’d be obliged if you will be here when she comes; it will make things easier for her if she can talk to you.”
There wasn’t a great deal to do but she needed to keep the little boy under constant surveillance. She was relieved briefly for her midday meal and soon after she returned Christina ter Brandt arrived. Her husband and Mr Werdmer ter Sane came with her. They went to bend over the cot until Dr ter Brandt said quietly: “Sit down, darling, he’s doing as well as we hoped. Sybren and I are going to have a talk in Sister’s office. Shall I get someone to send in a pot of tea? You two girls can have a chat while we are gone.”
He laid a large comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder and smiled at Rose.
Left to themselves, Rose brought her stool close to the cot so that she could watch little Duert. “He’s a lovely boy,” she said in her pleasant voice. “Has he blue eyes?”
“Like his father’s.” Christina patted herself. “This one’s to be a girl with grey eyes like mine. I don’t mind what colour they are but Duert has set his heart on it.” She looked away for a moment. “You haven’t seen any sign at all?”
“Not yet,” said Rose gently, “it’s always a long business, isn’t it? We’ve had several like Duert at St Bride’s; they took their time but they all went home fit and well.”
Christina ter Brandt smiled rather shakily. “Bless you, what a comfort you are. You think he’ll—he’ll be none the worse?”
“Yes, I think that. I think Mr Werdmer ter Sane thinks that too.”
“He’s a tower of strength. You met him when you were on holiday?”
“Well, yes. I banged on his door because we were lost and there was a fearful storm and he very kindly gave us tea.”
“Who’s us?”
She wasn’t sure if her companion was listening, her eyes were on her small son, but Rose went
