Island Hospital (10 page)

“That’s torn
it
...
we’re out of gas. Doc must have emptied the spare tin last time he was out, and like a fool I didn’t think to check it.”

Sheila stared at him blankly. “What do we do, then?”

Jim looked at her wryly. “Hope you can swim, lass. Remember to keep your mouth shut when you hit the water or else the cold shock will stop you taking the next one. Here, shove this lifebelt on and pray harder than you’ve ever prayed before.”

Sheila slipped the lifebelt on with fingers that had gone numb suddenly. She was conscious of not being frightened, only angry that they hadn’t succeeded. Would Alan believe that they had tried?
Would
...

Mercifully, Sheila was to remember very little of the next little while. There was an impression that she heard Alan calling to her... but of course he couldn’t be there. He couldn’t be saying
Sheila
...
try to answer me
...
Sheila, forgive me
...
for sending
you ..
.
Then it faded as had all the other sounds and she only knew that her head ached relentlessly and her eyelids were too heavy to lift. She couldn’t move ... her hands ... her legs ... were like lead.

Eventually there came a time when she managed to open her eyes, wincing with the effort as even the shaded light seemed too much. There was someone beside the bed. She squinted a little unt
il
her eyes finally focused.

“That’s more like it, lass. Given us a fair turn you have.”

“What
...
happened, Jim?” Her tongue felt as if it hadn’t been used for speech for a long time.

He glanced anxiously toward the door. “The Matron will have my life if I talk too much. You struck your head as the
Sea Witch
hit the reef and keeled over. We drifted clear and luckily a fishing boat picked us up. You looked half dead, so we arranged for the plane to collect us before heading for the Harbor. Luckily the wind had dropped a bit, so it wasn’t so bad until we landed. Then all hell broke loose. If the Matron hadn’t turned up just then and rescued me there wouldn’t have been enough pieces to sweep up.”

“What do you mean?” Sheila whispered.

“The Doc. He was fair demented about you. Then having to go off to Vancouver with that logger
fellow
...
leaving you half dead ... he didn’t like it one bit, I tell you.
”

There were footsteps and Jim made a beeline for the door. “I better be going.”

It was Alan, and he came in on cautious tiptoe, ignoring Jim’s: “She’s all right, Doc.”

He bent over Sheila and his hand closed over hers. She could feel his strength flowing into her battered, weary body.

Somehow she found the strength to speak. “Alan ... don’t worry ... I’m better.”

“Well, I should hope so! Turning this place upside down the way you have ... I’m beginning to think I live in a madhouse instead of a hospital.”

Sheila’s eyes flew open as if he had flung cold water in her face. “I’m sorry to be such a nuisance. I’m sorry I make a mess of everything I try to do. Perhaps if you were more reasonable in your demands I’d do better, so there!”

Alan laughed heartlessly. “That’s right! Blame it all on me if it makes you feel any better. You’ll live. Go on, shut your eyes. If you knock your head on hard timber again you’ll know what to expect next time.” He released her hands and put cool fingers on her eyelids. “Shut them tight. That’s an order.”

Sheila closed them quickly. She couldn’t bear to have him see the tears that were threatening. If only he’d go away and leave her in peace. Where on earth had Jim got the idea that Alan had been upset by her accident? How tired she
was
...
She began to drift away into sleep and it could only be a dream that Alan’s lips had touched her forehead before she slept.

The next time Sheila wakened. Clare was making her bed. The green eyes were somber.

“About time you made an effort, honey. This sleeping around the clock is getting to be a bad habit. How’s the head?”

Sheila moved cautiously as Clare adjusted the single pillow. “It’s beginning to belong to me.” Talking was easier and she didn’t have to search for the words so much. “What day is it?”

Clare chuckled, “It’s Friday, if you really want to know. You’ve been lying like a blinking log long enough. Things might improve if you came back on
duty...
they can’t get worse. Alan isn’t fit to speak to and Matron refuses to, and for some reason they seem to think it’s all my fault. I can’t think why ... I only work here. I don’t whistle up guide boats on to rocks, but I might as well.”

Sheila moved restlessly. “Why won’t they let me up? What’s wrong with me anyway? Alan seems to think I’ve committed a crime to be lying here at all.”

Clare tucked in the blankets briskly. “That isn’t the way it looks to me, but you could be right. Your injuries have been diagnosed as concussion and bruises and after-effects of exposure ... no bones broken. Comfy?”

Sheila wriggled her toes experimentally. “Yes, thanks. Do you think I could have something to eat? I think I’m hungry.”

Clare laughed. “I do believe you’re better. Flap officially over, I think. What would you fancy? Scrambled egg? Soup?”

Sheila thought it over. Her brain still felt fuzzy around the edges. “Both, please, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all.” Clare paused as she went toward the door. “I hear voices. You’re about to be officially visited, I surmise.”

She was gone before Sheila could question her. Matron came in, followed by Alan. They looked as if they had been arguing and Sheila watched Alan’s face for reassurance. There was nothing in his manner to suggest that he might have kissed her or even that he had been annoyed enough to scold her.

Matron drew the curtains and handed Alan the ophthalmoscope. His touch was curiously gentle as he examined her eyes. She winced a little at the beam of light.

“That’s it. Another day and we can think about getting you up. Headache?”

Sheila shook her head and then frowned. “Only when I shake my head,” she murmured. “I feel so silly just lying here.” She glanced at Matron.

Joyce Painter’s mouth curved into a smile. “Doctor Greenwood is quite right. There’s no point in putting you back on duty until you’re quite fit. If you’ll excuse me, Doctor, I must have a word with cook.”

She left Alan and Sheila looking at one another.

“Why won’t you let me up? I’m all right now.”

He gazed at her steadily. “And have you flopping all over the place? You’ll have to let me-be the judge whether you like it or not.”

“But you don’t know how I feel,” she persisted stubbornly.

“Perhaps not, but don’t spoil it by being childish. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve missed seeing you about in that fancy get-up of yours.”

“We’re proud of our uniform. At least you can tell what hospital we’re from, which is more than you can over here.”

Alan threw back his head and laughed. “That blow on the old bean hasn’t dimmed your fighting spirit! But, honestly, you’ll be allowed to come back on duty as soon as I think it’s wise.”

Some perverse mood struck Sheila. “I suppose as long as you have Clare you can manage.”

“You’re right. I’ve got Clare
...”
he said very evenly.

“Who’s got Clare?” Clare marched in with a tray and looked from one to the other.

“Sheila’s just reminding me what a useful member of the staff you are. I’ll leave you two to get on with the food.” Alan marched off without a backward glance.

“Whew! What’s eating him?” Clare put down the tray.

Sheila didn’t meet her eyes. “I suppose we were arguing. I’m sick of being in bed.”

Clare made no comment and helped Sheila to eat. She did it gently and efficiently, but it was obvious that her thoughts had followed Alan out of the room.

Sheila lounged lazily in the deck chair and listened to the rustle of the long grass as the wind swept through it on its way to scurry across the surface of the bay. It was almost time to go back to the hospital for tea, but it seemed too much of an effort for the moment. She heard footsteps and turned her head. It was Jim, and he was carrying a tray awkwardly. He placed it gingerly on the ground beside her.

“Doc said to bring it. He’ll be along for a cup of tea any minute now if it’s okay by you.” He looked at her quizzically. “I told him you wouldn’t mind. That’s right, ain’t it?”

Sheila moved restlessly. “Jim, you’ve got a nerve! I suppose you told him that I’d like his company! For all you know I might have other ideas.”

Jim chuckled. “Tell that to the marines, me gal. I’ll be off. I expect one of these days you’ll be getting around to a mite of work, like the rest of us. I got to finis
h
patching up the
Sea Witch
if she’s to be as good as new.”

Sheila’s face clouded over. “Was I any good ... on the trip, I mean?”

Jim stared at her, puzzled for a moment. “You mean did you help? I’ll say you did. Couldn’t have made the trip without you.” He began to move away. “Make a sailor out of you
yet
...
just get those sea-legs of yours in trim again.”

Sheila glanced up to watch him go, and her cheeks flushed as she saw Alan coming down the path.

With a groan he eased himself on the grass and tried to arrange his long legs comfortably. “Where’s that tea?”

“You’re just in time. The spoon would be turning somersaults if I let it get any stronger. Had a busy day?”

“Busy? Yes and no. It’s been one long series of interruptions. I start on my letters and it’s Mary at the door. Matron wants to see me about a patient. I attend to that and slink back to my office again. Then it’s Clare ... she’s bored and wants someone to talk to. Then it’s Mary again. Matron wants to know where her staff has got to.” He took the cup of tea Sheila handed to him. “What’s this Jim’s been telling me about your missing me?”

Sheila blinked in surprise. “I only asked him where everyone was
...
” she stammered in embarrassment.

Alan grimaced. “Trust him to mix things up. He’s as bad as the rest. Some day I’ll get things straight here if it doesn’t kill me first.”

Sheila stirred her own tea with unnecessary deliberation. What on earth had possessed Jim
...?
“You could always keep office hours,” she suggested quickly.

Alan ran his fingers vigorously through his hair. “In a place like this? You’re crazy, girl. I could put large notices on my door ... lock it ... say I’ve gone to town. It wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. No one respects my half day apart from the outpatients, and
they
only do because no one will open the door wide enough!” He held out his hand for another sandwich. “You forget there’s no tradition of respect for medical staff in this neck of the woods ... no fancy ward round with Sisters and their retinue dancing attendance on the Chief. We keep the personal relationship with the patients by our informality, but we also lose our privacy. We are the servants of the public far more than your doctors are, even though they’re part of a National Health Service and we’re not.”

Sheila watched the changing emotions flit across his face. This was a different Alan from the one she knew. “What are you trying to work on behind the flimsy barricade of your office door?”

He looked at her doubtfully. “I don’t suppose it would interest you in the
slightest
...
”

“Please tell me.” Sheila tried to pretend that his answer didn’t matter.

“Keep it under your hat, then I want to get it worked out
before I say anything. There’s bound to be people who’ll object. You probably know that we have a hospital scheme of sorts ... nothing as comprehensive as your English one, but it still helps. There’s nothing to cover medical care though except private insurance plans, and even that doesn’t help much in a place like this where one hospital and one doctor have to cover such a wide area. We need something that will cover specialist care as well. It’s all right for the loggers if they get hurt on the job, but it doesn’t help their families for the wife and children aren’t covered.” He held out his cup. “Give us some more tea, Sheila. Talking’s thirsty work.”

Sheila smiled at him. She had forgotten her earlier embarrassment. “You’ll need more than tea to put your plan into action. I suppose what you really want is something like the Australian Flying Doctor Service, only on a smaller scale.”

Alan stared at her. “Are you a mindreader or something? I’m already dickering for a small plane that we can keep on the lake. It would do for a start. Then if we can persuade the big logging camps to sign on, we might be able to run two planes. That would give us a chance to have one en route to Vancouver and still have the other in reserve for emergencies.”

“What about pilots?” Sheila was beginning to take fire from his enthusiasm.

Alan chuckled. “Me, for one. I just need a few lessons as a sort of refresher course to catch up on all the latest wrinkles. How about you?”