Grasp a Nettle
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She did, while Staff took the cholestectomy, and as she made her hasty meal she wrote up the books and then put the rest of the paper work on one side before going into theatre to scrub for the rest of the list. They were finished by five o’clock, but there was still the desk work to get through. Celia, with a much shorter list, had already gone off duty, and Jenny sat in her office, writing swiftly in her rather wild handwriting, one ear cocked at the various familiar sounds coming from the theatre unit. She had two nurses on now, and a part-time staff nurse coming on duty at six o’clock. With luck, she would be finished by then.
It was too late to go out by the time she got off duty, and besides, she was tired; she took a bath and put on slacks and blouse and went to her supper, then sat around in the Sisters’ sitting room, talking over the inevitable cups of tea. She was on the point of going to her bed when Miss Mellow arrived to request her presence in the telephone box in the hall. She spoke grudgingly, for she disliked what she called running messages, and she disliked Jenny too, partly because she was a pretty girl and partly because she came from that class of society which Miss Mellow always referred to as They. Jenny, who didn’t like Miss Mellow either but had the good manners not to show it, thanked her nicely and went without haste to the callbox; it would be Toby—she sighed as she picked up the receiver. But it wasn’t Toby, it was Doctor Toms. His voice, as mild as usual but carrying a note of urgency, surprised her. He wanted her at Dimworth. Miss Creed was ill and was asking for her.
‘Now?’ asked Jenny.
‘Yes, my dear. Your aunt is very insistent that you should come.’
‘Those headaches!’ she exclaimed, remembering.
‘Very severe—I want her to be seen by a specialist, but she says she’ll do nothing until you’re here.’
‘Blackouts?’ asked Jenny.
‘Two today—probably she’s had others and has told no one.’
Jenny glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll come at once, just as soon as I can fix things here. Will you ask someone to leave the side door open please—I ought to be with you by two o’clock.’
‘Good girl! I shall be here, Jenny, with your aunt.’
She rang off and raced out of the home and across to the hospital, Night Super would be on duty by now, but heaven knew how far she had got with her first round. Jenny took five precious minutes tracking her down, and ran her to earth at last in the children’s ward, where she held a hurried whispered conversation with her. Mrs Dent was a sensible, kindly woman, who listened without interruption before saying that of course Jenny must go at once and she would see that all the right people were informed in the morning. She even asked Jenny if she had enough money and if she would like a hot drink before she went. Jenny said yes, thank you and no, thank you with real gratitude and went back through the quiet hospital to her room, to fling clothes into a bag, explain her sudden departure to Celia, and go to the car park behind the hospital where she kept the Morgan.
She thanked heaven silently as she turned into the almost empty street that she had filled up on her way into London; there was enough petrol in the tank to get her to Dimworth. It was getting on for eleven o’clock by now, but once clear of London she made good time on the motorway; the clock tower bell chimed two as she stopped the car outside the private wing of the house. There was a light showing through the transom over the side door, and when she turned the handle, it opened silently under her hand. She stopped to bolt it before running up the stairs and along the corridor to her aunt’s room. The door was slightly open and when she pushed it wide she saw Doctor Toms there, sitting in an arm-chair by the bed. He got up when she went in, but before he could speak Aunt Bess, her commanding voice a mere thread of hesitating sound, spoke.
‘Jenny! You made good time. Don’t let Doctor Toms frighten you. All this fuss about a headache…’
Jenny went to the bed and looked down at her aunt. She didn’t like what she saw. Her aunt had looked off colour when she had left only two days earlier, but now she looked ill; her breathing was bad, her colour ghastly, and the pupils of her pale blue eyes were fixed and small. All the same, the lady of the house hadn’t lost any of her fire. She spoke now in a snappy voice. ‘Doctor Toms wants me to be seen by some puffed-up professor or other—he happens to be staying with him. I won’t hear of it.’
‘Why not, Aunt Bess?’
‘He’s a foreigner for a start,’ Miss Creed’s voice was slightly slurred. ‘He’s bound to be too big for his boots and make something out of nothing and then charge me a small fortune.’
Jenny had perched on the bed beside her aunt. Now she took one of the hands lying idle on the coverlet and held it between her own. ‘Look,’ she said persuasively, ‘why not let this man take a look at you? If you don’t like him you can say so and then you need not see him again—and as for the small fortune, you know quite well that you could pay a dozen professors and hardly notice it.’ She lifted her aunt’s hand up to her cheek for a moment. ‘To please me?’ she coaxed.
‘Oh, very well,’ agreed her aunt grumpily. ‘You’re just like your mother, she could charm water from a stone. But mind you, if I don’t like him, I shall tell him so.’ She stared at Jenny for a moment and added in a confused way: ‘I don’t feel very well, Jenny.’
‘No, I know, my dear, but you will feel better, I promise you, and I’ll stay with you. Now will you rest for a little while? I’m going to talk to Doctor Toms for a few minutes and then I’ll come back and sit with you.’
Miss Creed nodded, seeing nothing unusual in the fact that someone should forgo their night’s sleep in order to keep her company; she wasn’t a selfish woman, but she had been used to having her own way and people to carry out her wishes without question for so long that the idea that it might be inconvenient for them to do so never crossed her mind.
Jenny waited until her aunt had closed her eyes and then followed the doctor out of the room, closing the door softly for her aunt had sharp ears.
‘She’s ill, isn’t she?’ she whispered, and when the doctor nodded. ‘Can you get this professor quickly?’
Doctor Toms nodded again. ‘By sheer good fortune he happens to be spending some days with me—we’ve been friends for some years and he has been lecturing at Bristol; he still has several lectures to give, so he won’t be going back for a week or so.’
‘Back where?’
‘Holland. He’s Dutch.’
Jenny frowned, her mind vaguely filled with windmills, canals and bottles of gin. ‘Oh—Is he all right? Clever, I mean.’
‘Brilliant,’ said Doctor Toms. ‘You know what I suspect your aunt has?’
‘Subdural haematoma,’ hazarded Jenny.
He looked surprised and then said: ‘Of course you come across them pretty often. I’m not sure, of course, that’s why I would like Professor van Draak te Solendijk to see her.’
Jenny’s eyes opened very wide. ‘Good grief, what a frightful name!’
The doctor smiled faintly. ‘Everyone calls him van Draak.’
‘Thank goodness for that. Aunt may not like him.’
Her companion smiled again. ‘I fancy she will. Now I must get back home. I’ll be here round about nine o’clock in the morning, but telephone if you’re worried. What about your sleep?’
‘I’ll doze and get Florrie up between six and seven—that’ll give me a chance to have a bath and breakfast.’ She smiled at him. ‘Thanks for letting me know, Doctor Toms. Poor Aunt Bess, we must get her better.’
Her aunt was dozing restlessly when she went back into the room. Jenny settled herself in a chair, kicking off her shoes and arranging the table lamp so that it didn’t disturb the bed’s occupant. She was hungry and longed for a cup of tea, but she would have to wait for it. She had no intention of disturbing Florrie or anyone else at that hour. They must have had a busy, worrying time of it—besides, she had told Aunt Bess that she would stay with her. She settled herself as comfortably as possible and prepared to sit out the rest of the night.
CHAPTER TWO
MISS CREED SEEMED a little better in the morning, but Jenny, making her ready for the day, wasn’t too happy about her, but there were things she had to do. She left Aunt Bess in Florrie’s capable hands and went away to unpack her things, have a bath and change her clothes. Doctor Toms arrived just as she was finished breakfast and took her back upstairs with him while he examined his patient again, made a few non-committal remarks which only served to make her snort indignantly and then took Jenny aside to explain worriedly that there was an urgent maternity case he had to go to, but that the professor would be over at the earliest possible moment on his return from Yeovil hospital where he had been delivering a series of lectures to post-graduates. He went away then, warning Jenny that it seemed very likely that her aunt would have to go to hospital herself.
Jenny set about making her aunt as comfortable as possible while she kept an ever watchful eye on her condition. There was no dramatic change, but certainly it was deteriorating steadily. Soon after one o’clock Florrie came to relieve her for her lunch, and stayed while Jenny did a brisk round of the old house, making sure that everything was ready for the visitors. The clock tower chimed twice as she went through the door in the entrance hall and up the circular stairs which led to the lobby on the next floor, and the private wing.
There was someone in the lobby and the small apartment seemed crowded by reason of the vast size of the man standing there, and he wasn’t only large, but tall too, with iron-grey hair and bright blue eyes, and although he wasn’t young he was nonetheless handsome. Jenny spared a second to register that fact before saying pleasantly:
‘I think you must have missed your way; this leads to the private part of the house.’
She was affronted by his cool: ‘I am well aware of that, young lady—perhaps you would tell whoever is looking after Miss Creed that I am here. Professor van Draak.’
‘Te Solendijk,’ added Jenny, who had a splendid memory for names. ‘I’m looking after her, I’m her niece, Janet Wren, so perhaps you’ll tell me anything I should know when you’ve seen her—treatment and so on,’ she pointed out kindly, for he looked so surprised.
His thick eyebrows lifted. ‘I hardly think I need to discuss these things with you, Miss…er…it is surely not your business.’
He had a deep voice, probably a delight to listen to when he was in a good mood, which he was not, Jenny decided. She turned her head to look out of the window at the small groups of people coming along the drive towards the entrance and spoke over her shoulder. ‘Of course it’s my business; Miss Creed is my aunt and I shall be nursing her. You have no reason to be so cross, you know.’
He stared down his arrogant nose at her. ‘I am not cross, young lady. I do not allow my feelings to take control of me at any time.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You poor soul,’ she exclaimed warmly, ‘it must be like walking about in a plastic bag!’
He didn’t smile, although his eyes gleamed beneath their heavy lids. ‘You are foolish, Miss Wren, for in that case I should be dead.’
‘That’s what I meant.’ She delivered this telling shot with a sweet smile and opened the door. ‘If you would come with me, Professor…’
He stalked down the corridor beside her, making no attempt to speak, and Jenny, keeping up as best she could, was quite relieved when they reached her aunt’s room. At the door, before she opened it, he said evenly: ‘You do understand that Doctor Toms was unable to come with me—it is a little unusual…’
‘Not to worry,’ Jenny told him cheerfully, ‘he’s an old family friend, you know. Aunt Bess won’t mind,’ she paused, ‘unless you do?’
‘It is usual for the patients’ own doctor to be present,’ he pointed out in his almost faultless English. ‘I am a foreigner—your aunt…’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that.’ She spoke reassuringly. ‘She doesn’t like foreigners as a rule, but I expect she’ll like you.’
She was about to open the door when his hand came down on hers, preventing her. ‘Why do you say that?’
She smiled at him, wishing he didn’t look so unfriendly. ‘You look the part,’ she told him, and when he took his hand away, opened the door.
Florrie, with a few urgent whispers to Jenny, went away, and Miss Creed said sharply from the bed: ‘Jenny? Where have you been? And when is that foreigner coming?’
‘He’s here now,’ said the Professor, his manner so changed that Jenny looked at him in surprise. He didn’t look angry and withdrawn any more, but calm and assured, a rock for any patient to lean upon and pour out their symptoms. His voice was gentle too and although nothing could alter the masterful angle of his nose, his manner was such to win the confidence of the most cantankerous of patients. He had walked across the room, to stand by the bed in full view of his patient while Jenny introduced him, returning Miss Creed’s fierce stare with a mild look which Jenny found hard to believe.
‘You will forgive me,’ said the Professor suavely, ‘that I should come in this fashion without our mutual friend Doctor Toms. I believe he has explained the circumstances to Miss…er…’ He paused and looked enquiringly at Jenny, who gave him a stony stare and didn’t utter a sound; if he wanted to call her Miss Er for the rest of their acquaintance, then let him! She got her own back presently, though.
‘Doctor Toms has told Professor van Draak—oh, dear what a very long name—te Solendijk all about you, Aunt Bess. Do you want me to stay?’
Two pairs of blue eyes were turned upon her, two mouths, firm to the point of stubbornness, snapped: ‘Of course.’ They should get on famously, the pair of them, thought Jenny, casting her own eyes meekly downwards.
The Professor took his time; he was not to be hurried by Miss Creed’s voice, bossy still though weak and slurred, telling him what to do and what not to do. When at length he was finished, she snapped: ‘Well, what’s the matter with me? Or is it just a headache—though I daresay you’ll make the most of it, whatever it is.’
The Professor ignored that, straightening himself slowly and eyeing her with calm. ‘Yes, it is a headache, but that is only a symptom of its cause. I should like to operate on you, Miss Creed. Would you go into hospital?’
‘No. To be mauled about and pay hundreds of pounds for something an aspirin will cure.’
He said impassively: ‘I’m afraid aspirin won’t cure this headache.’ He gave her a long, considered look and she stared back at him defiantly, although it obviously needed an effort; Aunt Bess was pushing herself to her limit. He went on deliberately: ‘If I don’t operate, Miss Creed, you will die.’
‘Plain speaking.’
‘I don’t think you will listen to anything else. I shouldn’t myself.’
‘You will tell me exactly what I have wrong with me and what my chances of living are.’
‘Certainly. You wish Miss…?’
‘Er,’ murmured Jenny helpfully. ‘I’m a nurse and I shall be looking after my aunt, Professor van Draak.’
‘Ah, yes—just so. Then I will explain.’
Which he did very nicely; a minute haemorrhage in the brain, at present only causing severe headaches; difficulty with speech, with breathing, blackouts…‘You will have had those, of course?’ he asked offhand, and nodded when Aunt Bess said quite meekly that yes, she had had several. ‘I shall find the site of the haemorrhage,’ said the Professor, not boastfully but as a man who was quite sure that he would, ‘repair it, and provided you do exactly as you are told, you will be as good as new within a very short space of time.’
Miss Creed considered his words. ‘It sounds reasonable enough,’ she said drowsily, ‘but I’m too tired to decide today—come and see me tomorrow.’
He put his handsome head on one side, contemplating her. ‘I should like to operate tonight,’ he told her calmly.
The lined, elderly face on the pillow lost some of its firmness. ‘Tonight?’
He nodded. ‘The sooner the better. I can arrange through Doctor Toms to have the use of the theatre at Cowper’s,’ the local cottage hospital and not so very far away. ‘You would have to remain there as a patient, but I promise you that the moment you are fit enough to move, you shall return here.’
‘Jenny?’ Miss Creed suddenly sounded very elderly indeed. ‘What shall I do, Jenny?’
‘Just what the Professor asks, Aunt Bess,’ Jenny had been standing at the bedside, opposite the Professor, but she had taken no part in the conversation. Now she came a little nearer. ‘Doctor Toms says that Professor van Draak is a brilliant man, and you know you will only have the best—besides,’ she went on cunningly, ‘you’ll be as right as a trivet by the time Oliver comes to stay.’ Which wasn’t quite true, but she judged that a small fib was justified in the circumstances.
She watched her aunt thinking about it and nobody spoke until Miss Creed said: ‘Get on with it, then.’ Her voice was suddenly strong and autocratic. ‘And be sure and make a good job of it.’
The Professor assured her levelly that he would do just that, adding: ‘Might I have a few words with Miss…your niece? Perhaps someone could be fetched to sit with you for a short time.’
‘Do what you like,’ said Miss Creed rudely. ‘I can see that you’re a man who always wants his own way. Jenny, don’t let him flatten you.’
As they walked back along the corridor, Jenny said: ‘Aunt Bess doesn’t feel well…’ and was cut short by his patient: ‘My dear young lady, no one with a subdural haemorrhage feels well, and if you are referring to her remark that you should not allow me to flatten you, I rather imagine that there would be little possibility of that.’
She stopped so suddenly that he, walking a little behind her and to one side, bumped into her and was forced to catch her by the shoulders to steady her. She brushed him away with a wave of one beautifully kept hand. ‘I can’t imagine why you are so rude, Professor. Do you dislike the English, or just women? Whichever it is, isn’t going to help Aunt Bess very much.’
‘My dear Miss…’
‘Look,’ she interrupted him impatiently, ‘the name’s Wren—quite easy and so much nicer than Er.’
He laughed then, and for the first time she realised with a little shock that when he laughed he looked quite different—years younger; someone she would like to know… She squashed the thought at once and prompted: ‘You were saying?’
He had stopped laughing and was looking down his nose again, holding the door open for her at the head of the little staircase. ‘Merely that I do not dislike the English, nor, for that matter, women. I hope your curiosity is satisfied?’
‘Pooh!’ exclaimed Jenny, and ran down the stairs very fast, but despite his size, he was at the bottom only inches behind her, to open the door and usher her politely into the entrance hall. ‘Where can we talk?’ he asked abruptly.
She led the way through the small groups of people wandering round, out of the door and turned down a little flagged path which led to the tiny church adjacent to the house. Through the churchyard gate, among the ancient tombstones, she said: ‘Here.’
Rather to her surprise he remarked: ‘A peaceful and quite beautiful spot,’ and then leaned himself against the old grey walls of the church, crossed his elegantly shod feet, dug his hands into his jacket pockets and went on: ‘Your aunt is very ill; the thing is to get to the haemorrhage before it does any further damage; any moment it could worsen, although somehow I don’t think it will, but we mustn’t take chances. If I can operate quickly she has a very good chance of recovery.’ He glanced at the paper thin gold watch on his wrist. ‘It is now three o’clock. I have already spoken to Cowper’s; the theatre is available at six o’clock. Doctor Toms will be there, of course, and I have an excellent anaesthetist standing by as well as an extremely able assistant. Will you telephone for an ambulance and bring Miss Creed to the hospital at once? I presume that you will stay there until the operation is over.’
‘Of course. I must see Mrs Thorpe—the vicar’s wife, you know, and our housekeeper…’ Jenny was half talking to herself and he looked amused. ‘The ambulance first, of course, but don’t I have to have your authority for that?’
‘I talked to them a short time ago; they are more or less expecting a call for an urgent case, so there should be no difficulty.’
She eyed him curiously. ‘You were so sure—you had everything arranged.’
‘I like to be prepared—besides, I respect Doctor Toms’ judgment, I merely confirmed what he strongly suspected.’
She said inanely: ‘Yes, well…I suppose so. Have you a car here?’
He nodded in the direction of a magnificent Panther J72 drawn up on the gravel sweep outside the entrance and she opened her eyes wide. ‘Is that yours? I thought…that is, I…’
‘An unlikely car for a not-so-young Dutchman.’ He smiled faintly.
‘No—yes—I mean, she’s a beauty.’ She was suddenly a little breathless. ‘And you’re not even middle-aged!’
‘Forty, as near as not—and you, Miss Wren?’
‘Me? I’m twenty-five.’ She hadn’t meant to tell him that. ‘Where shall I take Aunt Bess?’
‘They will be expecting her. The usual routine before operation—nothing to eat or drink—but of course you know that.’ They were walking towards his car as he spoke and after the briefest of goodbyes, Jenny went indoors to telephone and then see Florrie and Mrs Thorpe. There was no time to lose, but even in her haste she found herself wishing that she could have spared a moment to watch the Professor drive off his splendid car.
Florrie grasped the situation within minutes; Jenny knew that she would be able to leave everything in her capable hands. The same couldn’t be said for Mrs Thorpe, who wasted precious minutes exclaiming: ‘There, I only said to Mr Thorpe yesterday,’ and ‘Well, I never,’ and ‘It’s to be hoped—’ She would have gone on for some time in this tiresome manner if Jenny hadn’t cut her politely short, begged her to organise the visitors on the following afternoon and arrange for Baxter to sell tickets again.
‘Probably I shall be back by then, Mrs Thorpe, but I’ll let you know. Mrs Trott’—Trott was the elderly lodge-keeper-cum-handyman—‘said she would help out if it was necessary at any time, and I’m sure she will—it will only be for a day or two while I’m with my aunt.’
Mrs Thorpe looked important. ‘Now, don’t worry about anything, Jenny, I’ll see to everything.’ Her bosom swelled alarmingly. ‘None of us would dream of letting Miss Creed down.’
Jenny thanked her nicely, glad that her aunt couldn’t hear her doing it, for she had no opinion at all of the vicar’s wife, although she used that lady’s services quite unscrupulously whenever it suited her to do so, and hurried back to her aunt’s room. Miss Creed hadn’t been told that she would be leaving almost immediately; the ambulance Jenny had telephoned for would be arriving very shortly. She sent the devoted Florrie away, found an overnight bag, rammed in what she considered necessary for her aunt’s comfort and approached the bed.
Aunt Bess had her eyes shut, but she spoke immediately in a slurred voice. ‘Don’t imagine that I don’t know that you’re arranging something behind my back, Jenny, because I’m perfectly aware of it.’
‘Yes, Aunt Bess, I’m sure you are, but it’s nothing you haven’t been consulted about. The Professor wants you in hospital—he told you that just now—and I’m packing your bag to take with you. The ambulance will be here in a few minutes.’
‘I’m perfectly able…’ began Miss Creed.
‘No, dear, you’re not—not just at present. I’m coming with you and I shall stay for a bit. Everything’s arranged, so there’s no need for you to worry about a thing.’
‘I’m not worried,’ stated her aunt drowsily. ‘You’re sure that that enormous man knows what he’s doing?’
‘Yes, Aunt, I am.’ Jenny, to her own surprise, discovered that she really was sure about that, which seemed a little silly considering that she had never seen him operate.