Island Hospital (7 page)

The woman smiled suddenly. “Bless you. Lucky thing for me you’re here.”

Sheila moved her trolley into position, the instruments ready and sutures neatly coiled in their place. Her eyes met Clare’s and together they turned to watch Alan scrub up.

Clare went to tie his sterile gown and then picked up her anesthetic syringe.

“All set?”

They moved swiftly into their accustomed routine, each doing their own part with the smoothness of long practice. The instruments seemed to flow from her hand to Alan’s, waiting one before he could even ask. Clare tackled the anesthetic with a deftness and sureness that won Sheila’s admiration.

The minutes sped by until at last they could relax and listen to the sweet music of a new baby’s cry.

“Seems to me that I’ve heard that noise already tonight,” Alan commented dryly as he tied the last suture. “How is she, Clare?”

Clare adjusted the intravenous drip. “By the time she’s finished this pint of plasma she should be right as rain, barring accidents.” Clare’s hand went out to the wooden mallet used for taking off the oxygen cylinders. “I’ve touched wood just in case.”

Alan laughed. “Thanks, chum. You could have used your head ... it’s closer. Dressing, please, Sheila.”

Sheila scarcely noticed the final slipping of formality. “Elastoplast or binder, Alan?”

He shook his head. “Please yourself.” He stretched and yawned. “Gosh, I’m hungry, I could do with a bear steak right now. Seen any lately, Sheila?”

Clare switched off her machine. “Let’s get the patient back to bed, and then we can raid the larder.”

Clare poked her nose into the big refrigerator. “H’mm, you are in luck tonight, or should I say this morning? You can have your breakfast bacon and eggs now, or grilled hamburgers with all the trimmings.”

Alan came over and stood behind her. He reached a long arm past her and picked up a slab of apple tart. “I’ll just sample this while you’re cooking them thar hamburgers. Bite, Sheila?” Sheila opened her mouth in surprise and found herself eating a large corner of apple tart. She was amazed to realize how hungry she was.

Alan watched her with satisfaction. “That will put some fat on those skinny bones of y
o
urs.”

Sheila almost choked and Clare hooted unfeelingly with laughter. Alan strode over and slapped Sheila on the back.

“Stop it! I’m in no mood to do a tracheotomy at this hour of the morning.”

Sheila mopped her streaming eyes. “It’s all your fault for being so rude,” she gasped.

Clare plucked the grill from under the heat and began to arrange the hamburgers on thick slices of bread.

“Relish or catsup, Sheila? Sorry, no onions at this time.”

Alan laughed at the expression on Sheila’s face. “Give her both, Clare. The girl hasn’t a clue. She doesn’t know what’s nice when she sees it.” He thrust the thick sandwich at Sheila. “Eat it and agree it’s the best you ever tasted.”

She bit into it, and suddenly she was ravenous. “You’re right. It’s wonderful. You’ll have to show me how next time, Clare.” They ate their hamburgers and drank their strong, well
-
sweetened tea laced with plenty of tinned milk.

Alan stirred his thoughtfully. “Well, girls, this has been quite a night. Thanks for everything.”

Clare put her cup down. “Nice to know I’ve been of some use. What would you have done if I had gone to town?”

Alan looked at her across the top of his cup. “Managed somehow, I expect. Sheila and I would have got along all right, I guess, eh, Sheila?”

There was a sudden crash as Clare flung her chair back. “So it’s Sheila this and Sheila that. I would be grateful if the next time you find it necessary to kiss her you’d do it somewhere other than in full view of the hospital!”

She turned and ran out of the kitchen.

Alan stared after her and then glanced at Sheila. “Whew! What a gal! And I didn’t even kiss
you
...
”

Sheila’s eyes were troubled. “Can’t we explain?”

He shook his head. “It would look fishy
...
she’d never believe it.” He ran his fingers through his mop of red hair. “Women are the very devil. Go on, get off to bed. I hate the sight of the pair of you!”

CHAPTER FOUR

Feeling rather like a slapped child, Sheila left the kitchen hastily and went toward her room. Clare was pacing up and down the corridor and turned and looked at Sheila suspiciously.

“What are you doing here so soon?” she demanded sharply. “I thought you and Alan would be having a nice little chat with me out of the way.”

“He thinks women are the very devil and he hates the sight of the pair of us.” Sheila was too despondent to fence with Clare.

The other girl stared at her in disbelief at first and then an unwilling smile dawned. “As long as it’s both of us I don’t mind so much,” she admitted frankly. She yawned. “I suppose we might as well go to bed while the getting’s good. By the way, did Matron mention to you that you would be having next weekend off, if you want to go to Vancouver or anything?”

Sheila shook her head. “No, she didn’t mention it. There are some cousins of Mother’s living in Vancouver. I could look them up.”

Clare yawned again. “Sounds deadly dull, honey, but maybe you care for that sort of thing
...
not me. Give me the bright lights every time. ’Night!” she disappeared into her room.

Sheila thought of the women back in the ward as the
Queen of the Isles
hooted its way under the Lions Gate Bridge. They had been frankly envious when they knew she was going to Vancouver for her first weekend off.

“Have an extra look for us when you’re walking down Granville Street with your eyes glued to the shop windows.”

“Watch yourself crossing the road, honey.”

“Have a hamburger in Stanley Park ... that place near the entrance at English Bay that’s open at all hours.”

The memory of their friendly chatter rang in her ears as she stared at the scene opening out in front of her. High overhead toy cars shuttled endlessly across the suspension bridge while below the seagulls dipped and wheeled in the wake of the boats. A few fishing trollers passed them outward bound, their tall poles swaying and bells jangling as the steamer wash hit them. A ferry passed, crowded to the rails with people, heading toward West Vancouver where the houses climbed the steep slopes and above the Lions crouched and watched as they had down the centuries. Sheila thought of all the things that must have passed by those mountains ... the early explorers and traders, the trappers, the fishermen, the first settlers ... they would have watched the growing city, a wooden city that disappeared in a sheet of flame the year of the Great Fire, only to rise again, more splendid, more permanent, its tall buildings a puny challenge to the splendor of the mountain heights ... the streets that ran like arrows through the city’s heart to the water’s edge.

Sheila could see the dock now, crowded with people waiting to return to their wilderness homes.

“See any sign of your relatives, Sheila?”

She turned to smile at the First Officer, who had joined her at the r
o
a
d
. “Not yet. I’ve never met them before.”

“I expect you’ll find them waiting at the barrier. How about letting me show you something of the big city?”

Sheila hesitated. “I’m not sure what plans my cousins have made.”

He grinned. “I forgot you’d be sort of tied up. Where do these cousins live anyway?”

“At English Bay. Isn’t that somewhere near Stanley Park?”

“That’s right. Tell you what. I usually take a stroll through Stanley Park when I’m ashore ... it’s not all that far from my sister’s place. I’ll be by the hamburger stand at the entrance; you can’t miss it, your nose will lead you there. If you don’t turn up between four-thirty and five, I’ll know you can’t make it. Okay?”

“Thank you very much ... if you’re
sure
...
”

“Of course I’m sure. I’ve got plenty of time. The engineer has some engine tinkering to do and at any rate we don’t sail until tomorrow. The
Island Princess
is doing this trip, thank goodness. It gives us a breather. The Captain’s throwing me dirty looks, so I’ll be off. Be seeing you.”

Sheila began to search anxiously for a glimpse of her cousins. Then she saw them and smiled. She needn’t have worried. Their very Englishness, their well-cut tweeds, stood out from the groups around them, and seemed to subdue the gay colors of the women’s frocks, and the gaudy lumberjacks, to something that would be found in an English garden.

Sheila’s heart sank as she submitted to their cool kiss. They reminded her too much of what she had left. Already in the past few weeks, she had soaked up some of the color and vitality that was Canada.

Her cousins looked at her critically. “You’re not very like your mother, dear, except for your fair coloring. But then it is some years since we were home. Bring your case and we’ll find the car.
”

Sheila walked demurely at their heels, but she felt that she had more in common with the crowd that surged excitedly toward the exits, toward the shops, toward all the sights that a teeming city could offer.

She scarcely heard the quiet voices of her cousins pointing out places of interest. She was too busy craning her neck to see the tall buildings, the glimpse of the greenness that was Stanley Park, the glittering shop windows. She stared at the crowds of people that jostled one another on the wide pavements, the endless streams of traffic that surged forward when the lights turned green. The noise beat against her ears which almost ached as they picked up the unaccustomed medley of sounds ... ears that had heard only the low hum of voices, the chug of fishing boats heading for the outer pass, and the muted sounds of the wilderness.

She heard one of her cousins speaking. “All right, dear? We’ll soon be away from all these crowds.”

Sheila beamed at her. “But I love it, Cousin Annie,” and her gaze went back to the busy scene.

She never noticed the looks of pained surprise on their well bred faces nor their murmurs:
England must have changed for the worse since we were home last. I can’t think what the younger generation is coming to. Her mother was such a gentle girl.

The car stopped at last, and Sheila was amused to see the tidy box hedge, the well-painted gate and the leaded-pane windows at either side of the picture window. She followed her cousins up the path, and smelled the sweet, heady perfume of the little English violets, went through the front door into the cool shadows of a house where the furniture had the soft lustre that only loving care and polish could give it. She sat down in an armchair whose chintz must have been woven on an English loom, but the view before her could only be Canadian.

In the distance the islands merged in the backdrop of the Coast Range, while on her right Stanley Park rose high and green, its giant firs and cedars linking a modern city with a past so ancient that its records were only written in the rings of their vast trunks, and below her small boats tugged at their moorings, and children played on the sands or ran laughing into the wave that lapped the shining shore.

Sheila accepted the cup of tea put into her hand and ate the thin slices of buttered bread, and only she knew that she was remembering the thick slices, the savory hamburgers, the mugs of tea that could almost hold a spoon upright in its thick sweetness.

She answered her cousins’ questions politely, and it was some time before she realized that the vague period of years they kept referring to meant that it was 40 years since they last trod on English soil. She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice.

“I suppose you’ll be making a visit soon? Mother did say something about it the last time I was home.”

The two elderly women looked at one another uneasily and then at Sheila. “It’s all rather difficult, you know, with the exchange rate and so on. And of course, there is the
garden
...
it needs such constant care, and the gardeners are such a price and so unreliable. Why, when Mrs. Palmer—our neighbor and such a nice woman—went away last summer just for a month, she came back to find the lawns were burned to a crisp and some of her best plants dead ... the wretched gardener had done the weeding, but had never put a drop of water on the garden.”

Sheila knew then, and was sure that in their secret hearts they knew it too, that these two women would never see the green shores of England again. They had been away too long. They might be aliens too gentle and too different to be absorbed into the broad background of Canada, so they kept green their precious garden as a reminding link with their homeland, but even England might have changed too much by now unless they found a niche in an English village too remote to be in touch with time.

They kept shaking their heads at Sheila’s answers to their questions. “You mean they’ve built a housing estate on the Manor’s grounds and the general public have the run of the gardens at half a crown a time? ... it’s unbelievable!”

Sheila tried to explain. “It’s the heavy taxation and all the death duties. The Welfare State costs a lot of money
...
and of course the National Health Service with all the new hospitals they are planning and the modernization of the older ones just eats up money. And, of course, the roads ... and the housing
schemes
...
”

Sheila fell silent. She couldn’t bear to watch their faces as they saw the England of their memories and their dreams dying beneath the touch of her words.

The two women stirred at last. “What would you like to do now, dear? We can't offer to show you anything at the moment, as there’s dinner to see to. One can’t get resident help nowadays ... not since the war, with high wages and all, and nothing to show for the money paid.”

Sheila stood up. “I’d like to walk toward Stanley Park.” She felt she must get into the air, a freer air, not heavy with crumbling dreams. “Is it far?”

Her cousins looked at one another. It was Annie, the younger one, that spoke.

“If you follow the curve of the Bay you can’t miss it. She should be all right, Edith. It will be daylight for a long time yet.” She looked for approval from her elder.

Sheila stared at them in surprise. “But it’s just a park like Kew Gardens.”

Annie showed a glimmer of a smile. “And like Kew Gardens, dear, a young girl has to watch her step.”

Sheila went out into the bright sunshine feeling as if she had escaped from a family mausoleum. Not for a long time, if ever, had she stepped so far back into the
past
...
a past that had not been allowed to die a decent death.

Instinctively her feet quickened as she walked toward the tall trees. Already she was beginning to feel that the Douglas firs and the great cedars were part of her normal surroundings, and to be conscious that something was missing when she lost sight of them.

She smiled to herself as her nose told her she was nearing the famous hamburger stand. Would the First Officer be there or not? After all, she didn’t really know him very well. She sensed that her cousins would be horrified if they knew
why
she had wanted to go for a walk. She was rather startled herself that she had even accepted his invitation. What would Alan have said? She tugged at her straying thoughts. It was none of his business what she did on her weekends off, and, judging by his attitude lately he couldn’t have cared less.

“Good girl! So you made it. I was just about to count to a hundred and then push off.”

For a moment Sheila stared at the speaker and then she laughed. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

The First Officer chuckled. “Don’t tell me that it was the uniform you fell for! You’re worse than my sister. She can’t make up her mind whether I look too flashy in uniform or too respectable in my shore-going outfit.”

He slipped his arm through hers. “Let’s be off. Which will you have ... the formal gardens or the forest trails?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Not the gardens ... they look too civilized.”