An Indecent Obsession (20 page)

‘I agree she deserves a lot of things, but strangling? Really, Sally!’ said Sister Langtry, enjoying the sparks.

‘The old cow! She couldn’t hit a bull on the bum with a handful of wheat!’

But the very promising display of Dawkin fireworks fizzled damply the moment Sister Sue Pedder walked through the door. Any further eruptions became impossible. It was one thing to blow one’s top comfortably to Honour Langtry, who was if not in the same age group at least a topflight nurse of many years’ experience; to Sister Dawkin they were peers. Besides, they had served together from New Guinea to Morotai, and they were friends. Where Sister Pedder was a kid, no older than the AAMWAs who had worked for something like forty-eight hours at a stretch in Moresby. And that was the rub, perhaps. No one could imagine Sister Pedder working for forty-eight hours at a stretch anywhere.

Barely twenty-two, extremely pretty and extremely vivacious, she was in theatres, and had not been on the Base Fifteen staff for very long. It was a current joke that even old Carstairs the urinary surgeon had whinnied and pawed the ground when Sister Pedder waltzed through his theatre door. Several nurses and patients had lost money at that moment, having laid bets that Major Carstairs was really dead but didn’t have the grace to lie down.

The nurses left to man Base Fifteen until its extinction were all senior in age and experience, all veterans of jungle warfare and jungle nursing. Except for Sister Pedder, who was not generally regarded as part of the group, and was eyed by some with a great deal of resentment.

‘Hello, girls!’ said Sister Pedder brightly, coming over. ‘I must say I don’t see much of the ward stars these days. How is life on the wards?’

‘A darned sight harder than life in theatres making goo-goo eyes at the surgeons,’ said Sister Dawkin. ‘But enjoy it while you can. If I have anything to say about it, you’ll be off theatres and on neuro.’

‘Oh, no!’ squeaked Sister Pedder, looking utterly terrified. ‘I can’t stand neuro!’

‘Too bloody bad,’ said Sister Dawkin unsympathetically.

‘I can’t stand neuro either,’ said Sister Langtry, trying to make the poor girl feel more at ease. ‘It takes a strong back, a strong stomach, and a strong mind. I dip out on all three counts myself.’

‘So do I!’ agreed Sister Pedder fervently. She gulped a mouthful of tea, discovered it was tepid and horribly stewed, but swallowed it because there was nothing else to do save swallow it. A rather awkward silence fell, which frightened her almost as much as the thought of being transferred from theatres to neuro.

In desperation she turned to Sister Langtry, who was always very pleasant but standoffish, she thought. ‘By the way, Honour, I met a patient of yours from X a couple of weeks ago, and discovered I went to school with him. Isn’t that amazing?’

Sister Langtry sat up straight and bent a far more searching gaze on Sister Pedder than Sister Pedder considered her statement warranted.

‘The bank manager’s daughter from Woop-Woop!’ she said slowly. ‘Saints be praised! I’ve been wondering for days which one of us he could possibly mean, but I forgot all about you.’

‘
Woop-Woop?
’ asked Sister Pedder, affronted. ‘Well! I know it’s not Sydney, but it’s not quite Woop-Woop either, you know!’

‘Don’t get shirty, young Sue; Woop-Woop is just Luce’s nickname for his home town,’ soothed Sister Langtry.

‘Oh, Luce Daggett!’ said Sister Dawkin, comprehending. She bent a fierce eye on Sister Pedder. ‘If you’re seeing him on the sly, ducky, you’d better wear your tin pants—and don’t let him reach for his tin-cutters.’

Sister Pedder reddened and bridled; fancy being stuck on neuro with this old dragon! ‘I assure you that there’s no need to be concerned about me,’ she said haughtily. ‘I knew Luce when we were both children.’

‘What was he like, Sue?’ asked Sister Langtry.

‘Oh, not much different.’ Sister Pedder began to lose her defensiveness, liking the fact that Sister Langtry was interested in her. ‘All the girls were crazy about him, he was so handsome. But his mother took in washing, which made it a bit difficult. My parents would have killed me if I’d looked sideways at him, but luckily I was a couple of years younger than Luce, so by the time I got out of the primary school he had already gone to Sydney. We all followed his career, though. I never missed one play he did on radio because our local station used to rebroadcast them. But I missed seeing him when he was in that play at the Royal. Some of the girls went down to Sydney, but my father wouldn’t let me.’

‘What was
his
father like?’

I really don’t remember. He was the stationmaster, but he died not long after the start of the Depression. Luce’s mother was very proud, she wouldn’t go on the dole. That’s why she took in washing.’

‘Does he have any brothers? Any sisters?’

‘No brothers. Two older sisters, very pretty girls. They were the handsomest family in the district, but the girls came to no good. One drinks and the less said about her morals the better, and the other got herself in the family way and still lives with her mother. She kept her baby, a little girl.’

‘Was he good at school?’

‘Awfully clever. They all were.’

‘Did he get on with his teachers?’

Sister Pedder laughed a little shrilly. ‘Good lord, no! The teachers all detested him. He was so sarcastic, and yet so slippery they could never manage to pin him down hard enough to have much excuse to punish him. Besides, he had a habit of always getting back at the teachers who did punish him.’

‘Well, he hasn’t changed much,’ said Sister Langtry.

‘He’s much handsomer now! I don’t think in all my life I’ve ever seen anyone so handsome,’ said Sister Pedder, lapsing into a reverie and smiling.

‘Oooops! Someone’s riding for a fall!’ Sister Dawkin chuckled, eyes twinkling, but not unkindly.

‘Don’t take any notice of her, Sue,’ Sister Langtry said, trying to keep her source of information in a receptive frame of mind. ‘Matron’s on her back and she’s got heat oedema.’

Sister Dawkin removed her feet from the bucket and rubbed them sketchily with a towel, then picked up her shoes and stockings.

‘There’s no need to talk about me as if I wasn’t even here,’ she said. ‘I am here, all thirteen and a half stone of me. Oh, my feet do feel better! Don’t drink the water in the bucket, girls, it’s full of Epsom salts. I’m off; I’ve got time for a quick nap.’ She pulled a face. ‘It’s those darned boots we have to wear after dark do my feet in.’

‘Have you elevated the foot of your bed?’ called Sister Langtry after her.

‘Years ago, love!’ came the faint reply. ‘It’s a lot easier to look for the pair of boots that are never there, and I don’t mean my own, either!’

This raised a laugh, of course, but after their spurt of amusement died the two sisters left at the table could do no better than an uncomfortable silence.

Sister Langtry sat wondering whether it was advisable to warn Sister Pedder about Luce, or at least make the attempt. In the end she decided that was where her duty lay, and reflected how unpalatable duty often was. She was well aware of the special difficulties young Sister Pedder faced at Base Fifteen, how friendless and isolated she must feel in this nest of senior sisters. There weren’t even any AAMWAs for her to mix with. Still, Luce was a definite menace, and Sister Pedder looked ripe, nubile and ready for mischief. And since Luce represented childhood and home town, her guard would be down.

‘I do hope Luce isn’t giving you any trouble, Sue,’ she said at last. ‘He can be difficult.’

‘No!’ said Sister Pedder, coming out of her daze with a start.

Sister Langtry picked up her cigarettes and matches and dropped them into the basket at her feet. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ve been a nurse long enough to be able to look after yourself. Just remember that Luce is a patient in X because he’s a little disturbed. We can handle that, but we can’t handle you if it rubs off.’

‘You make him sound as if he was a leper!’ said Sister Pedder indignantly. ‘After all, there’s no disgrace in battle fatigue; it happens to a lot of fine men!’

‘Is that what he told you?’ asked Sister Langtry.

‘Well, it’s the truth,’ said Sister Pedder, with just enough doubt in her voice to make Sister Langtry think something had happened which had given Sister Pedder pause to wonder already. Which was interesting.

‘No, it is not the truth. Luce has never been any closer to the front lines than the orderly room of a base ordnance unit.’

‘Then why is he in X?’

‘I don’t think I’m at liberty to tell you more than that he displayed some rather disagreeable characteristics which made his COs feel he might be better off in a place like X.’

‘He
is
strange sometimes,’ said Sister Pedder, thinking of that hideously passionless, automatic, merciless ramming, and of those savage bites. Her neck had been so deeply bruised, the skin broken in places, that she had thanked her lucky stars for the precious little container of pancake makeup she had bought at the American PX in Port Moresby on her way up here.

‘Then take my advice, and don’t see Luce any more,’ said Sister Langtry, picking up her basket and rising to her feet. ‘Truly, Sue, I’m not coming a matron act at you, and I’m not preaching. I have absolutely no wish to pry into your personal business, but Luce happens to be my business in every way. Steer clear of him.’

But that was too much for Sister Pedder to take; she puffed up with indignation, feeling chastised and belittled. ‘Is that an order?’ she asked, white-faced.

Sister Langtry looked surprised, even a little amused. ‘No. Orders come from Matron.’

‘Then you can stick your damned advice up your jumper!’ said Sister Pedder recklessly, then gasped. The precepts and disciplines of her training were too fresh still for her to be able to say things like that without immediately becoming devastated by her own temerity.

However, her retort fell sadly flat, for Sister Langtry had gone from the room without appearing to hear it.

She sat on for a few moments longer, chewing at her lip until the skin shredded, torn between the huge attraction she had for Luce and the feeling that Luce didn’t really care two hoots about her.

Part 4

1

It took almost a week for Sister Langtry’s rigidly suppressed feelings of confusion and embarrassment over her weakness in the dayroom to evaporate. Thank God Michael didn’t seem to suspect anything, for he was his normal courteous, friendly self at all times. A great salve for her pride, perhaps, but not much help with the pain she suffered in other areas of her being. Still, every day she continued to survive was one day less ward X had to go, one day closer to freedom.

When she walked into the ward one late afternoon about two weeks after the incident in the dayroom, she almost collided with Michael coming out of the sluice room in a hurry, worn and dented metal bowl in one hand.

‘Put a cover over that, please, Michael,’ she said automatically.

He stopped, torn between the urgency of his mission and her seniority.

‘It’s for Nugget,’ he explained. ‘He’s got a terrible headache and he feels sick.’

Sister Langtry stepped around him and reached one hand into the sluice room, where some drab but clean cloths sat on the shelf just inside the door. She took the bowl from Michael and draped a cloth over it.

‘Then Nugget’s got a migraine,’ she said calmly. ‘He doesn’t get them very often, but when he does he’s quite prostrated, the poor little chap.’

She walked into the ward, took one look at Nugget lying very still on his bed, a cool damp cloth over his eyes, and drew up a hard chair noiselessly to the side of his bed.

‘Is there anything I can do, Nugget?’ she asked him softly, putting the bowl down very quietly on his locker.

His lips barely moved. ‘No, Sis.’

‘How long to go?’

‘Hours yet,’ he whispered, two tears trickling from under the cloth. ‘It’s just come on.’

She didn’t touch him. ‘Don’t worry, just lie quiet. I’ll be here to keep an eye on you.’

She remained sitting beside him for perhaps another minute, then got up and went into her office.

Michael was waiting there, looking anxious. ‘Are you sure he’s all right, Sis? I’ve never seen Nugget lie so still! He hasn’t even squeaked.’

She laughed. ‘He’s all right! It’s just an honest-to-goodness migraine, that’s all. The pain is so acute he doesn’t dare move or make a noise.’

‘Isn’t there something you could give him?’ Michael demanded, impatient at her callousness. ‘How about some morphine? That always does the trick.’

‘Not for migraine,’ she said positively.

‘So there’s nothing you’re prepared to do.’

His tone annoyed her. ‘Nugget is in no danger whatsoever. He’s simply feeling ghastly. In about six hours he’ll vomit, and that will relieve the worst of his pain immediately. Believe me, I’m very sorry for what he’s going through, but I do not intend to run the risk of making him dependent upon drugs like morphine! You’ve been here quite long enough to understand what Nugget’s real trouble is, so why are you making me out to be the villain of the piece? I’m not infallible by any means, but I do not appreciate being told my business by patients!’

He laughed heartily, putting his hand out to grip her arm and giving it a friendly little shake. ‘Good for you, Sis!’ he said, grey eyes alight with more than warmth.

Her own eyes lit up; she was consumed by an enormous rush of gratitude. There could be no mistaking the way he was now looking at her. In that moment all her doubts were resolved; she knew she loved him. No more misery, no more self-examination. She loved him, and it felt like the end of a journey she had not wanted to make.

He searched her face, then his lips parted to speak; dumb with longing, she waited. But he didn’t speak. She could literally see his mind working, watched the love driven out by… fright? Caution? The grip on her arm changed its quality, from a caress to a merely friendly touch again. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he said, and walked out the door.

Luce didn’t even give her the time to think about it; she was still standing numbed when he walked in.