her and replaced it.
‘Is there anyone we can get to take over from you?’ he asked and his voice was very kind. ‘Night sister? Norah?’
She gave him an indignant look. ‘Certainly not, Professor. I’m on duty, and in any case I’m not in the mood for parties.’ She added unhappily, ‘I’ve nothing to wear—I mean, he has seen the dresses I’ve got at least six times.’
‘That is a point,’ agreed the Professor gravely. ‘I have no doubt that, to a man in his type of job, clothes matter a great deal.’
Rachel nodded. ‘Oh, they do, and you see I’ve never bothered a great deal—I mean, not to fuss, if you know what I mean? Brothers never notice what you’re wearing anyway…’ She stopped suddenly. ‘I’m sorry—talking to you like this; I quite forgot who you were.’
If the Professor found this remark a little surprising, he gave no sign. He said soothingly, ‘I am sure you will have an opportunity to go out with, er, Melville again.’ He became businesslike. ‘This man who is coming up—gunshot wounds at close range—I’ve had a look and we’ll need a lot of luck on our side. How are you off for staff?’
She cast him a grateful look. He never failed to see that she had enough help. ‘If Billy is here, I can manage. I’ve a junior on—very new but eager—and Carter’s coming in.’
‘He’s a good man to have about. Right, I’ll take a look at what you’ve put out, shall I?’
They went over the instruments together and then he went away, leaving her to scrub and get into her gown and mask and gloves and lay up.
Dr Carr would be anaesthetising; she had expected that. The Professor and he had worked together for a year or two now. He appeared with his patient and a nurse from the accident room to attend to his wants and keep an eye on the drip they had set up. The Professor, with George and Billy, followed hard on his heels.
It took a very long time; it was an hour short of midnight when at last the Professor finished his patchwork, meticulously done with tiny stitches and infinite patience. He thanked them all, as he always did, and left George to do the tidying up before the man was taken to the intensive care unit.
Rachel started to clear up, and Nurse Saunders, still game, toiled with her until two night nurses appeared to help. Things went more quickly then and presently Rachel and Nurse Saunders were able to take off their gowns and masks and go off duty. But not yet, it seemed. As they went down the corridor George came to meet them. ‘There’s food and drink in the office—we’re all having a picnic; come on.’
The Professor had been exerting his charm again. There were sandwiches and a dish of sausages, a bowl of crisps and a great jug of coffee.
‘However did you get this lot?’ asked Rachel and sat Nurse Saunders down in front of the sausages.
‘It’s a kind of blackmail,’ he explained gravely. ‘You see, if the kitchen superintendent keeps me well fed, she feels pretty sure that, should she need my help at any time, I shall give it gladly and with expertise.’
Rachel forgot the time, that she was tired, that she had missed a glamorous evening with Melville. She looked round at her companions, very contentedly munching, and thought of the man they had worked so hard to save. She would have missed a dozen evenings out just for the satisfaction of knowing that the patient would recover, and as for her companions, she couldn’t think of any better. She caught the Professor’s eye and he smiled at her.
‘Not very elegant and none of us look fashionable, but there’s a satisfaction…’
She beamed at him, her mouth full. He was right, but then he always was.
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