Island Hospital (11 page)

Sheila hesitated. She didn’t want to be blasted by his scorn. “I have been up,” she admitted:
“...
and I did take the controls for a few minutes.”

Alan’s face was alight with excitement. “See? We’re half-way to victory. We could take lessons at the same
time
...
”

“Lessons in what?” said Clare’s voice from behind them. “So this is where you got to, Alan.” She sat down on the grass beside them.

Sheila looked at her. Why hadn’t Clare stayed away? “Cup of tea? I’m afraid it’s rather stewed.”

Clare gave her a sideways glance. “No, thanks. I’ve had mine. I was really looking for Alan ... you haven’t answered my question.”

Alan ignored Clare’s interruption. “Think it over, Sheila, and let me know what you think of it.” He stood up and stretched. “I’m going for a swim ... alone.” He strode off toward the hospital.

“What’s got into him?” Clare’s green eyes were full of angry questions.

“He’s just fed up, I think.”

“What were you two talking about, by the way?”

“Nothing much ... he asked me not to say anything about it,” Sheila said uncomfortably.

“Oh, that! You don’t have to be secretive. He’s always blabbing about his plans to anyone who’s fool enough to listen. I fell for it until I realized that he’d never get past his pipe dreams. I don’t suppose you could help being a sucker. Well, I must be going. Some people have to work.”

Sheila started to gather up the tea things. “Where’s Matron? I’ll ask her if I can start tomorrow.”

Clare snorted. “Save your breath! She won’t let you until the big noise, Doctor Alan Greenwood, gives the word. I dropped a hint and got stepped on.” She got to her feet with a single lithe movement that reminded Sheila of a leopard at the zoo. “I’ll take the tray.” She picked it up, ignoring Sheila’s protest, and went up the path.

Sheila sat a little longer and watched the sunlight fade from the mountain peaks. Had Alan just been using her as a convenient pair of ears? A splash roused her and she looked down toward the bay. It was Alan swimming across toward the point as if all the sharks in the world were at his heels. She smiled a little as she followed his progress. He was so enthusiastic about everything he did, whether it was hatching schemes for medical insurance or looking after his patients, or snatching his few free moments for his own pleasure, or ... scolding her. She turned to collect her belongings and started slowly up the path.

“Don’t go, Sheila.”

He stood in a growing pool of water like a cross between a
red-headed seal and a very damp Irish setter. There was a pleading smile on his face.

Sheila hesitated. “I’ll stay for a few minutes. Won’t you get cold?” She didn’t really want to stay. She wanted to be alone by herself until she had examined her own feelings. Clare had managed to plant just enough doubt to make her distrust herself and ... Alan.

Alan glanced around. “Not on your life! Has that she-cat taken herself off?”

She gulped. “I suppose you mean Clare. I thought you liked her.”

Alan gave her an odd look. “I do ... at times, but this isn’t one of them. She’s been getting in my hair this past week ... a shadow couldn’t have stuck closer.”

Sheila settled herself on the pile of rugs. “What were we talking about? Oh, I know, lessons in flying.” She pretended to herself that she wasn’t really watching for his reactions, trying to decide whether his words were genuine or not.

Alan stretched himself out in a remaining patch of sun-light, his smooth tan contrasting oddly with his thatch of red hair. “Would you like to fly—properly, I mean?”

Sheila looked away and blurted out irrelevantly, “Why don’t you burn? I thought all redheads did?” The absurdity of her answer struck her and she burst out laughing.

Alan looked startled and then joined her. When they had sobered down he studied her seriously.

“But what has sunburn got to do with flying anyway? Delayed reaction after concussion, I suppose. For the record, brown-eyed redheads, especially Canadian ones with tough hides like mine, usually tan. Now, how about answering the question I asked?”

Sheila searched for an answer and then stopped. Mary was coming toward them, her soft footsteps making no sound as she crossed the intervening grass.

Alan leapt to his feet and there was a glint of anger in his eyes. “This obviously isn’t meant to be my half day! I’m going to finish my swim. Tell Mary I’ve gone to drown myself or anything else you like.” He raced down toward the shore and dived into the water with a resounding splash.

Sheila turned to meet Mary’s startled gaze.

“Why has the doctor gone away? I come to bring a message for him, but now I cannot give it to him.”

Sheila smiled. “He won’t be long. Was it important?”

A gleam of amusement appeared in the other’s black eyes. “Only to Miss Clare, I think. Do you come back for supper now, Miss Griffiths?”

Sheila sent a last look toward the empty bay. Alan had disappeared from sight around the point. “I might as well.” She followed Mary back to the hospital. She was conscious of a growing resentment toward Clare. Was the other girl still in love with Alan? Her overwhelmingly possessive attitude seemed to suggest that she had no intention of letting him go easily. Alan’s own behavior gave her few clues. Sometimes he seemed moved and even hurt by things that Clare did or said. And yet there were other occasions when he was completely indifferent.

Sheila sighed a little. She didn’t even know what she wanted herself. It was probably only injured pride that made her so fiercely determined to prove to Alan she was just as capable and efficient at coping with this life in the wilds as any Canadian girl. She had been so interested in what Alan had told her about his plans, but Clare’s remark had spoiled that. The other girl’s interruptions had been so pointedly contrived. No one but Clare could have been brazen enough to persist, and if she didn’t love Alan, why did she do it?

Concentrated thought made her head ache and Sheila went thankfully to her room. Not even her own job had gone to plan. If she hadn’t been foolish enough to get that knock on the head she wouldn’t be forced to dilly-dally while Alan decided whether she was fit to go back to work or not. Clare had made it plain that she thought Sheila was slacking. Perhaps Alan might be more reasonable tomorrow.

Fortunately there was a rush of patients and the question of Alan’s permission managed to get overlooked. It was an outbreak of influenza, not serious in itself, but with nasty complications for those who hadn’t the sense or hadn’t been able to take themselves to bed. Whole families came in as there was no one left at home to cope where there; were small children. The side wards began to resemble
crèches
with their assortment of youngsters of all ages. It was simplest to nurse the mothers in the midst of their offspring as it cut down the fretting.

Sheila hung up line after line of diapers and the washing machine never seemed to stop. On top of all the extra work Alan seemed to have been bitten by the bug of research.

He explained to Sheila rather bitterly. “It’s my only hope of getting the whole family together. Most of the kiddies are well enough to run around now. You should be grateful that I’m taking them off your hands long enough to X-ray them and anything else I can think of. You nurses will be the first to thank me when it’s all down in black and white, if we have an epidemic.” Sheila smiled at him soothingly. “I think it’s a very good idea, but you’re not likely to have epidemics in isolated spots like this, are you?”

Alan glared at her despairingly. “That’s just where you’re wrong. I don’t suppose you’ve even read about that polio epidemic among the Eskimos! It took just one carrier to introduce a plague that struck the Arctic regions worse than anything they had experienced since the white men moved in. It might take days before we got warning of an outbreak. Don’t forget that measles or chickenpox can be as nasty as smallpox to the Indians. Their racial immunity is very low to childhood diseases. Just
wait
...
if you stay here long enough you’re not likely to go scot free. You English get so used to being boxed up in a small country that you never think what it might be like to have a flaring epidemic where hundreds of miles of sparsely settled areas may be involved, and your only transport a silly little boat like the
Queen Mary
until the
Sea Witch
is seaworthy again.”

Alan paused for breath and Sheila managed to get a word in. “What will you do if your tests are positive?”

Alan’s voice was calmer. “Well, at least I can get in one inoculation before they go home, and believe me, that’s something.”

Sheila laughed, but her laughter held sympathy. “You’ll either end up with a knighthood or in an early grave.”

Alan’s fist pounded the table, making her jump. “Can you see me a flipping knight? Talk sense, girl! It’s only by grabbing the chance this very minute that I’ve got a hope on God’s earth. These poor devils have a hard enough time scratching a living without having to be held up by illness into the bargain. Catching the children now makes it a welfare job, and that’s covered by the government. The mission hospital boat does its part, but we need more of them. Tell your old ladies in England to mark their pennies for the medical missions ... it’s better than togging up the natives in Manchester cottons.”

Sheila was very quiet as she listened to Alan. The place of Harbor Hospital was becoming more apparent. When she had applied for the job she had only imagined a nursing post with a different sort of background. She had really expected to do much as she had done in England, but with more responsibility. How different reality had been.

“You make me feel ashamed, Alan,” she said softly.

He stared at her in amazement. “Whatever for? I’ve only asked you to spend ten minutes of your valuable time to hold some squawking brats for me while I stick needles into them for their own good. It wasn’t meant to be a sermon! Ye Gods and little fishhooks ... trust you to go all sentimental!”

He stood up impatiently. “Thanks for your help, and I suppose
should say thank you for listening. For goodness sake, Sheila, give your ideas a shake! You’ve kept them wrapped up in cotton wool long enough.”

He stormed off, leaving Sheila to clear up the mess and restore the somewhat tearful children to their mothers, dishing out sweets en route as a bribe for smiles. There were the records to be written and the syringes to be boiled. Alan might call it ten minutes work, but he didn’t make allowances for the aftermath, either physical or emotional.

Her confidence felt severely shaken. She had been regarding herself as a reasonably mature 23-year-old, able to cope with most things. Alan had taken her apart and shown her how unpractical most of her notions were. But her initial bewilderment was giving way to healthy resentment. Somehow, some time, some place, she would show Alan that she wasn’t quite so useless after all.

She stared around the tidy dressing ward and then subsided into muffled laughter. There wasn’t anything handy to demonstrate her new-found ability on ... she couldn’t even be sure that anything she might tackle would measure up to Alan’s standards.

Clare came in. “What’s the joke? I thought Alan was with you.”

“He was. He’s been giving me a lecture on the uselessness of the English,” said Sheila casually.

Clare gave her a suspicious look. “Well, at least you seem to have found it amusing. Did Alan?”

“I don’t think so. He went storming off.”

Clare fiddled with something in the cupboard. “Do you know where he’s gone?”

Sheila went toward the door. “Haven’t a clue.” She knew she sounded just like Clare, but at that moment she didn’t care.
“I’m
going to start settling the side wards. Give me a shout if you wa
n
t a hand.”

She knew a moment of absurd triumph at the look of annoyance and surprise on Clare’s face. At this rate she and Clare would be showing bared claws any minute. If Clare and Alan had shown any signs of being genuinely in love, it would have been different. Sheila stood still. She wasn’t in love with
Alan
...
so why was she fussing? It was a very thoughtful Sheila who smoothed wrinkled bedclothes, rubbed tired backs, and shook up pillows. It was almost a relief to find that Alan had been called out on a case and that Clare was busy in the labor ward. Matron was in one of her silent moods and dinner was eaten in almost complete silence.

Matron brightened up over coffee. “Well, Miss Griffiths, are you glad you came to Canada?”

Sheila hid her astonishment. Was it mere chance that the other woman had hit on the subject of her thoughts? “Very much so,” she said warmly. “I’m beginning to learn just how little I know about conditions outside England. Working in a big hospital as I did, one takes so many things for granted.”

Matron glanced at her in amusement. “Who has been educating you?” she asked dryly.

Sheila was nonplussed for the moment. “Doctor Greenwood pointed out a few home truths while we were innoculating the children,” she admitted wryly.

Joyce Painter laughed. “That young man is going places unless he finds the resting place of many a reformer ... and early grave.”

Sheila stared at her. “I told him the same thing.”

Matron settled herself more comfortably in her chair. "I’m glad you like it here. Any chance of more of your colleagues wanting to join you?”

Sheila shook her head. “Most of my friends were either moving on to higher posts or getting married,” she confessed. “I can’t think of even one who might be tempted to come.”

Matron sighed. “The pioneer spirit seems to be sadly diluted these days. It’s more money and soft living and too many jobs to choose from. When I think of the struggle I had ... but I won’t bore you with that. You’ll have heard it all from the older ward sisters. Has Clare said anything to you about leaving?”

Sheila blinked at the change of subject. “No, not a word. In fact, she mentioned that she might even postpone taking her holidays until later.”

Matron looked keenly at Sheila. “Any idea why?”

Sheila hesitated. She felt uncomfortable discussing Clare with even as democratic a person as Matron. “She said something about now that I was here.”

Matron stood up. “So that’s the way the land lies, eh?” She went toward the door and then turned. “Ever think of marrying Alan?”

She was gone before Sheila could find breath enough to answer. Mingled with her embarrassment was the feeling that she would never understand Canadians. They might mean what they said, but they managed to put it in such a way that one had to be Canadian to understand what they were getting at. Did
Matron want her to marry Alan ... think Alan was interested in her ... suspect she was attracted to him ... or what? Sheila rested her head against the back of the chair. It would be much better if she didn’t explore the tangle of her thoughts ... just yet. She must have dozed off, for she roused to hear an amused voice asking: