get someone to look at him. An accident, was it?’
Eulalia told her briefly and took herself off to the reception desk, and by the time she got back Peter was on an examination couch. His clothes had been taken off, the sleeve of his injured arm cut to allow the small arm to be exposed. He was trying not to cry and she went and held his good hand, wanting to weep herself.
The young doctor who came in said, ‘Hello,’ in a cheerful voice, then, ‘So what’s happened to this young man?’
He was gently examining Peter’s head as he spoke. He peered into his eyes, then turned his attention to the arm. ‘Can you squeeze my finger, old chap?’ he wanted to know, and at Peter’s whimper of pain, said, ‘I think an X-ray first of all, don’t you? So we can see the damage.’
He smiled at Eulalia. ‘We’ll take care of him. If you’ll wait here?’
She went and sat down on a bench, oblivious of her torn dress and dishevelled person. There were few people around: two or three at the other end of Casualty, talking quietly, and near them were curtains drawn round one of the cubicles. The curtains parted presently and a big woman with an air of authority came out, followed by a man in a long white coat. She would have known him anywhere because of his great size, and she watched him go and speak to the group near by with a feeling that she was never going to be rid of him. Hopefully, he’d go away without seeing her…
But he had. He shook hands with the two women, and with the man with them, and trod without haste towards her.
He looked different, somehow, and he was different. He was someone in authority, ready to help and capable of doing just that. She stood up to meet him, her skirt in tatters around the hem, dust from the street masking its colour. ‘It’s Peter, he was knocked down by a motorbike—we were on the pavement. He hit his head and I think his arm is broken. He’s been taken to X-Ray. I was told to wait here.’
She was pale with worry and her voice shook and so did her hands, so she put them behind her back in case he should see that and think her a silly woman lacking self-control.
‘Where did it happen?’
She told him. ‘And those two men on the bus, they were so quick and kind. I don’t know what I would have done without them.’
‘I suspect that you would have managed. Sit down again. I’ll go to X-Ray and see how things are.’
She put a hand on his sleeve. ‘Do you work here? I mean, you’re a doctor in Casualty?’
‘Not in Casualty, but I work here upon occasion. I am a surgeon.’ He added, ‘Orthopaedics.’
‘Bones,’ said Eulalia. ‘You’ll help Peter?’
‘It seems that since I’m here I might as well.’
She watched him walk away. He had spoilt everything with that last remark. She had been beginning to like him a little but she had been mistaken; he was a bad-tempered man and rude with it. All the same, she hoped he would do something for Peter. Quite unexpectedly, two tears escaped and ran down her pale cheeks. She brushed them aside impatiently, and just in time as he came back.
‘Mild concussion, and he has a fractured arm just above the wrist. We will give him a local anaesthetic, align the bones and put on a plaster. We’ll keep him overnight for observation…’ And at her questioning look he added, ‘No, no, nothing to worry about. Routine only. You can fetch him in the morning, but telephone first. Keep him in bed for a couple of days and no school for a week.’
‘He’s all right?’
He said impatiently, ‘Have I not said so? Come and see him before we put the plaster on.’
He turned on his heel and walked away, and she followed him through a door and into a small room where Peter lay on a table. He grinned when he saw her. ‘He said I was brave,’ he told her. ‘I’m going to stay here tonight. You will fetch me, won’t you?’
‘Of course, dear.’ She glanced around. There was no sign of any doctor, only a male nurse and a student nurse busy with bowls of water and plaster bandages.
‘Like to stay?’ asked the nurse, and gave her a friendly look.
‘May I?’
‘No problem.’ He turned away and lifted Peter’s good arm out of the blanket. ‘Here’s Mr van Linssen. He’ll have you as good as new in no time at all.’
So that was his name. She watched as he slid a needle into Peter’s broken arm. He did it unhurriedly and very gently, talking all the time to the boy. ‘You’re a lot braver than many of the grown-ups,’ he told him. ‘In a minute or two we’re going to straighten your arm—you won’t have any pain, but you’ll feel us pulling a little. Keep still, won’t you?’
Peter nodded. His lip quivered a little but he wasn’t going to cry. It was Eulalia who felt like crying. She was sure that Peter couldn’t feel any pain but she closed her eyes as Mr van Linssen began to pull steadily while the nurse held the arm firmly.
‘You can look now,’ he said in a hatefully bland voice, so she did. He was holding the arm while the nurse began to slide on a stockinette sleeve and then start to apply the plaster. It didn’t take long and Peter hadn’t made a sound.
Mr van Linssen was smoothing the plaster tidily when Sister put her head round the curtains. ‘Why, Mr van Linssen, I thought you had left ages ago. You’ll be late for that luncheon party.’ Her eyes fell on Peter. ‘Had a tumble?’
‘Knocked down by a motorbike. I’d like him in for the night, Sister. Get a bed, will you? And we’ll make him comfortable. He’s been a model patient.’
She went away and the nurse started to clear up. Mr van Linssen took off his white coat and the student nurse took it from him gingerly. Rather as though he might bite, thought Eulalia. She got up. ‘‘Thank you very much for your help—’ she began.
She was cut short. ‘No need, all in the day’s work, Miss—er?’
He raised his eyebrows, standing there looking at her.
‘Warburton,’ she snapped.
He nodded. ‘Your son’s a nice little chap,’ he said, and walked away.
She turned to the nurse. ‘I’m Peter’s cousin,’ she told him. ‘I did tell the receptionist—he’s an orphan.’
‘Makes no odds,’ said the nurse, and smiled at her; she was very pretty and she had cheered up his day a bit. ‘You were in luck. Mr van Linssen wasn’t even on duty—came in to see the relations of a patient who died—had a hip op here and got knocked down late last night. He may be a consultant and a bit high and mighty but I know who I’d like to deal with my bones if I broke them.’
Sister came back then and Peter was borne off to the children’s ward, sleepy now but rather proud of his plastered arm. Eulalia saw him into his bed and was told by the ward sister that there was no need to come back with pyjamas and toothbrush. ‘He’s only here for the night,’ she said in a comfortable voice. ‘Mind you phone first and we’ll have him ready for you.’
Eulalia thanked her, kissed Peter and went
