in them.
It was getting on for three o’clock; she went along to the pantry and made herself a pot of tea and sat drinking it, checking over in her mind that she had everything she might need with her. She tidied the tea things away, went to her room and collected her case and shoulder bag and crossed the street to the hospital. She was early but the Rolls was there in the forecourt with Mr Werdmer ter Sane at the wheel. As soon as he saw her he came to meet her, took her case and put it in the boot and ushered her into the front seat.
“I don’t intend to stop on the way,” he informed her, his tone so friendly that she found herself agreeing at once. “We can get a sandwich and coffee on the hovercraft. You’ve had lunch?”
“Yes, thank you.” The shepherd’s pie and milk pudding still felt solid inside her. She settled herself without fuss and sat back in the comfortable seat; she had little intention of talking and remembering his remarks to Miss Timms, she imagined that he probably felt the same. And indeed, he had nothing to say until they were clear of the last suburbs and racing towards Dover.
“This case,” he began, “I’ll fill in a few details. The little chap’s name is Duert, he’s two and four months, a healthy specimen and being sensibly brought up. He’s lively and big for his age…his father’s a big man. He has a posterior fossa fracture and there is a good deal of swelling of the brain. I have operated to relieve this but there was a CSF leak and I’m worried that there might be a latent infection. He is in the children’s hospital in Amsterdam; his parents live in The Hague, but I can keep a closer eye on him if he’s on my ward. He’s in a side ward and you will be doing day duty, probably your free time will be curtailed for a few days; it will be made up to you later. His father is the director of a hospital in The Hague but he visits whenever he can spare a minute. His mother expects their second child within a few weeks; she’s a level-headed girl and realises that there is little that she can do at the moment. That is why she begged for an English nurse; she feels that she can phone you and talk about Duert. She visits him each evening with her husband and she is convinced that he will recover…”
“And you? What do you think?” asked Rose.
“He has a very good chance but it depends largely on good nursing now. You have nursed similar cases?”
“Oh, yes. Won’t there be a language difficulty?”
“No. At least not in the hospital, the night nurse is English-speaking and so is the ward sister. I doubt if you could hold a general conversation with them, but you will find that they understand medical terms. My registrar speaks excellent English. You will have a room in the nurses’ hostel and when Duert goes home I hope that you will be able to go with him until such time as Christina has got things organised.”
“Christina?”
“His mother. They have a splendid nanny, not a trained nurse though, but able to take over from you once Duert is out of danger.”
After that he was silent, leaving her to her own thoughts. She couldn’t help but reflect that if it had been Sadie sitting beside him, he might have found something to talk about. He was treating her pleasantly enough but with, she suspected, indifference. To be expected, she told herself philosophically, after all, she was a nurse, being driven to a case by the patient’s doctor; and the patient was all that they had in common.
She hadn’t been on a hovercraft before; she found it exhilarating. She ate the sandwiches and drank the coffee offered her and sat composedly while Mr Werdmer ter Sane studied the papers he drew from his brief case.
It was still light when they landed, and since the land was flat and the sky wide, she was able to see around her. She longed to ask what this was and that was, but her companion, beyond making sure that she was comfortable, had little to say. Only as they slowed to go through the lighted outskirts of Amsterdam, did he observe, “A very restful travelling companion—no girlish exclamations of delight, no endless questions about windmills and clogs, no demands to know when we should arrive. I must congratulate you, Nurse Comely.”
To which she made no reply at all.
Once through the suburbs, the city took on the enchantment she had remembered from her brief visit. The sky was clear and starlit, silhouetting the gabled houses against the deep blue above, and once they were away from the main streets, there were only the street lamps reflected in the canal water.
She hadn’t asked where they were going; she hoped just for a moment that they would go to his house first, but she was to be disappointed. They left the quiet old streets presently and turned back into the main part of the city. A short cut, she guessed, and knew that she was right when they turned into a wide courtyard with the hospital, quite unmistakable, beyond. Mr Werdmer ter Sane switched off the engine. “Well, here we are,” he observed quietly, and got out to open her door and usher her through the wide entrance.
There was no waiting about; he lifted a hand to the porter on duty and led the way to a row of lifts. They got out on the second floor and Rose followed silently as he trod unhurriedly a long wide corridor and through swing doors.
It was very quiet; there were wards on either side, their doors open and night lights burning and the shadowy figures of nurses going to and fro. Mr Werdmer ter Sane tapped on a door at the end of the corridor and went in.
There was a cot in the room, barely visible in the dim light, surrounded by all the impedimenta of post-operative equipment. Sitting side by side in chairs drawn up to the cot were two people. They turned their heads as Rose and Mr Werdmer ter Sane went in and the man got up. He was a big man, heavily built and tall, and he looked tired and very anxious.
“Sybren—you’ve made good time.” He looked at Rose and smiled. He was good-looking and his eyes were very blue. “And this will be our English nurse.” He put out his hand and then he put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Chrissy, now you will be able to sleep.”
The girl took her eyes from the small figure in the cot. Mrs ter Brandt wasn’t pretty, but her eyes were a lovely grey in a white face. She smiled at Rose.
“Thank you for coming.” She got up and offered a hand. “You’re from St Bride’s, aren’t you? The best nurse they have got, Sybren says. Little Duert will be all right now.”
Rose said comfortingly, “I’m sure he will and I promise you I’ll look after him, Mevrouw ter Brandt.”
The two men had turned aside to talk but presently Doctor ter Brandt said, “We’re going home now, darling— Sybren will take a look at Duert and explain things to…” He glanced over to Rose. “May I call you Rose? She will come on duty in the morning and you can phone her then and come and see Duert later in the day. And I promise you we won’t pull any wool over your eyes, darling.”
Rose saw the look which passed between them; loving and trusting and very understanding. It must be awful, she thought, as she wished them a calm good night.
Mr Werdmer ter Sane closed the door. “Now, before we find Night Sister and get you settled, let us go over the notes…” He gave her a sharp glance. “You are not too tired? There will be a meal for you presently, but this is too good an opportunity to miss.”
He went and looked at the unconscious child, examining him gently. “He’s no worse, but he’s by no means out of the wood. I want every smallest change noted and I want to be told at once. I’ll give you a phone number and you are to ring me without waiting to report to the ward sister. Tell her, of course, but I want to know first. You understand?”
Rose
