Steady Now Doctor (11 page)

“I don't see any problem,” said the Matron, “I'll go and ring St Daniel's.” She was back in about half an hour. “All's fixed,” she said, “but we'll leave it to you to break the news to your fiancée. We do hope you will come, I'm sure you'll love it down here.”

The train couldn't hurry back quick enough for Andy. He'd had to spend a restless night in a local hotel and he caught the earliest train he could in the morning. He kept out of Mary's way during the day until late in the afternoon he popped into the children's ward and said, “Cocoa?”

“About six o'clock,” said Mary. “I've got some good news.”

“So have I,” said Andy.

“Oh lovely,” said Mary.

Andy had the pan already on the gas ring by the time Mary came to his room. This pan was multipurpose, as they used it to cook cocoa, soup, spaghetti, and boiled eggs. One day, one of the Housemen went to the Ideal Home Exhibition and at evening cocoa time said, “Andy, I've been to the Ideal Home Exhibition, toured every stall, and have brought you back the most valuable possession I can think of.”

“That's very nice of you,” said Andy, surprised - it was a packet of scourers!

When Mary came in she was holding a large official envelope. “Oh darling,” she said, “you seem to have been away years.”

“I know,” said Andy, “but I'm back. Now then,” he said, “your good news first.”

“Well,” Mary said, “it's unbelievable,” and she opened the envelope and in it were the deeds of Auntie Rob's Instow cottage. She was giving her the Instow cottage as a wedding present.

“That's wonderful,” said Andy, “we're property owners now,” and he said, “if ever I should go off and you should divorce me you'd always own half of it.”

Mary went white, “Please Andy don't talk like that.” She said, “I know I'm not a physical person and very demonstrative, but I love you so deeply it hurts. I shall always love you whatever you do. I know how disappointed you were not getting into the Army, but I am ashamed to say I was overjoyed because I thought that I'd see more of you.

“I remember one day after the ball when I saw you playing with little Amy on the ward - this was before I knew you - I just had to stop myself coming up and saying, ‘please let me bear your children,' oh, I do want to Andy. I said I'd had a wonderful childhood, and I did, but I also had bad experiences. Three of us went for adoption once, my two best friends and I, and we were inspected like goods for sale. My two best friends were taken and I wasn't, and in some way I've felt rejected ever since. That's why I say that I can't bear to be away from you, having found you I don't ever want to let you go.” She was sobbing now.

“Oh my love,” said Andy, “I'm so sorry, come over on the armchair and sit on my knee.”

She cuddled up with her forehead pressed under his chin like a little girl. “Oh I'm sorry,” said Mary, “I know that there was no way you'd want to upset me, but I so love going to your family. To think, I might be part of it, and we have all these frustrations ahead of us. There's a year and two months. I don't think I can live without you for a year and two months. I might have to let the Master and Mother down.”

“You won't have to,” said Andy.

“I will if I can't be with you all the time.”

“Well, perhaps you can be with me all the time.”

Mary sat up. “Yes, you haven't told me your good news.”

“Well,” said Andy, “with your approval, in three months' time I accept a Senior House Officer job at the North Devon Infirmary, Barnstaple, where there is a self-contained flat overlooking the river. The Matrons have got together and the Matron at Barnstaple and the Matron here are quite happy for you to do your final year at Barnstaple. It's just like a dream, and with Auntie Rob giving us the cottage at Instow, we will always have a base. Unless you have any objections Mary Smith, I intend to marry you in eight weeks' time and have a month's honeymoon with you at Instow before we move to the flat in Barnstaple as man and wife where I will do obstetrics and you will finish your nursing.”

Mary was silent for much longer than she ought to have been.

“Are things all right with you?” said Andy. “Aren't you happy about it?”

“Yes, my love, it's more than I could possibly ever have wished for, even in my wildest dreams. I was just very sincerely saying a prayer for all those people who haven't been as fortunate as we are.”

“I have one disappointment for you.” said Andy.

“I don't think you have any disappointments for me,” said Mary.

“Oh yes,” said Andy, mockingly, “there is a very serious one. I cannot get St Paul's Cathedral in eight weeks' time, so it looks like the Ealing Register Office in Ealing Town Hall, and if you want to, we have got to get busy and start making arrangements to turn you into Mrs Howard. I am going to count to ten and during those ten seconds you have to decide whether you are going to be my partner for life.”

Mary turned her head this way and that way, grinning as if she was having to make a great decision. “All right then,” she said, and with a different voice, “I promise my love, I will always take the greatest care of you. I've watched people here take advantage of you, you're just too kind and too nice and you work so very hard, but aren't we so lucky?”

“Yes,” said Andy. “Like you, I can hardly believe it, but it is true and there will be times when we won't be as lucky as we are now, and we must remember this time when everything seems to be working for us. Let's say the Gods made the sun to shine on us.”

“What all of them,” said Mary.

“Yes,” said Andy, “every single one of them.”

Chapter 10

Wedding Bells

During the last two months at St Daniel's Andy paid less attention to his medical work than he had ever done, or ever did for the rest of his medical life. The wedding and Mary took up every spare moment of his time. They had chosen Ealing Register Office to get married in as Andy had once attended the wedding of one of his rugby mates there. Although Ealing Town Hall looked a bit grimy from the outside, inside the reception and wedding room were elegant and the Registrar, a delightful kindly lady, made sure the ceremony was carried out with dignity.

At least half of the 1
st
XV of St Jane's Hospital Rugby XV had got married in Register Offices and Andy had attended them all. With one exception, the brides were all with child before the wedding.

The sites and ceremonies of most of the weddings were appalling. Often there had been a queue, and it was more like having a passport stamped than getting married.

Andy had never forgotten the occasion at Ealing and was determined that this was where he was going to marry Mary.

They rang the Town Hall to fix the date, and a nice receptionist pointed out that they first had to come and make an appointment bringing their Birth Certificates, and had they residential qualifications?

“We have both lived in England all our lives,” said Andy.

“No,” said the receptionist patiently, “you have to have lived in the borough of Ealing at least seventeen days.”

“Oh, that's no problem,” said Andy, knowing that it was a tremendous problem. “When I've got my duties sorted out we will ring again.”

“Oh, love,” he said to Mary explaining the full gist of his call. “We have to be resident in Ealing for seventeen days before we are allowed to fix a date.”

“Never mind darling,” said Mary, “let's have a look at what they offer locally, it might be OK. What I hate, is having to show my Birth Certificate, against father and mother it says unknown.”

“Darling,” said Andy, “you are about to become the head of a dynasty and that will never happen to your children, your grandchildren or your great grandchildren.”

“Idiot,” said Mary, “now my life's gone by in a flash.”

They found their nearest Register Office. It was only 200 yards from the hospital and it was just dreadful. “I expect it doubles as an abattoir when they're not using it for weddings,” said Andy. They trudged back to the hospital in gloomy silence. O'Sullivan was standing on the steps.

“Where are those smiling faces of the bride and bridegroom of the year?” said O'Sullivan.

“Don't,” said Andy, “we've struck problems. We can't be married in Ealing until we've been resident seventeen days, and there is no way either of us can manage that within the next eight weeks, and down the road is more like a funeral parlour.”

“Ealing's no problem, man,” said O'Sullivan, “all you babes in the wood have to do is to leave a case at my Aunt Bessie's in Ealing. Tonight if you want, and in seventeen days you can choose your day.”

“Is that all right?” asked Andy.

“Would you ever doubt O'Sullivan,” said O'Sullivan.

“You're just marvellous,” said Mary, and kissed him.

“That makes you a Jamaican citizen,” said O'Sullivan.

Andy and Mary set off for Aunt Bessie's with a suitcase full of old shirts and socks. They were slightly apprehensive having seen O'Sullivan's residence with thirty to a room as to what they were walking into, but Aunt Bessie's house was a large terraced house in Darwin Road, South Ealing where only she and her pastor gospel- preaching husband lived. They had the warmest of welcomes with repeated ‘Bless yous', an offer from Uncle Keithley, Aunt Bessie's husband, to marry them in their front room which doubled as a church meeting place if they had problems with Ealing Town Hall.

“The trouble is,” said Andy, when they were cuddled up in his room drinking cocoa, “most people think doctors are worldly wise and they're not, they know little of what is going on in the world outside the hospital.”

“Rubbish,” said Mary, kissing the side of his face. She had an arm round his neck and was holding a mug of cocoa precariously in her hand. “You are the wisest man in the world.”

“Only when it comes to choosing brides,” said Andy, returning her kiss and spilling her cocoa at the same time.

They were most courteously received at Ealing Register Office. They had waited a month before going and Aunt Bessie, who the office knew, came with them. They were able to fix the exact date they wanted - three days after Andy's resident job finished and five days after Mary completed her second year exams.

Presents rolled in. The whole hospital had taken them to heart. They even had a decanter and glasses from Mr Gotter. They began by stacking things in Andy's room then Andy's father ran a shuttle service taking them to a room Auntie Rob had cleared for them in her house.

Andy's father bought him a suit and gave him 100 pounds. Andy was worried about Mary and money. He had no idea if she had enough money for all the things she would need.

“Darling I'm fine,” she said, “I have been saving for this since I was ten, and in addition to the Instow cottage, Auntie Rob keeps on sending me more than little amounts which I am banking. In fact, I am becoming a wealthy woman and I'm just wondering if you are only marrying me for my money.”

Time flew. There was a hen night and a bachelor night, both a few days before the wedding, not the night before. Andy looked round at the dozen companions who were sharing his so-called last night of freedom. Only a couple were from his rugby days. It was just two years since he had qualified, yet he had almost lost touch with his student contemporaries. There was one cousin he hardly knew, the rest were all from St Daniel's, mainly the cocoa drinkers or the ‘United Nations' as they called themselves, with representatives from Australia, New Zealand, India, Pakistan, Poland, Ireland, Jamaica and the Lebanon.

After a very heavy night they all finished up at O'Sullivan's drinking white rum. In the past Andy had thought he'd had a few hangovers after rugby games, but after this night, he really learnt what a hangover was. Thank God the wedding wasn't the next day.

They had great trouble in sorting out who to ask. The whole hospital wanted to come. In the end they settled for six nurses, Matron was asked but declined in the nicest possible way, and gave them a tea set which they felt had come from what had been her own bottom drawer.

The Master and Mother were bringing a dozen girls from the children's home to the ceremony, then staying on themselves for the reception that Andy's father had arranged in a restaurant across the road from the Town Hall.

Andy had an Aunt whom he hardly knew whose son had come to his bachelor night. David Hudson was to be his best man and the Master of the children's home was giving Mary away. There were Mr and Mrs O'Sullivan, of course, and Aunt Bessie and Mr Keithley, most of the ‘United Nations', three married rugby players, their spouses and babies, and sundry friends and hangers-on.

The reception, which was going to be limited to thirty for their quiet wedding, grew to sixty. Andy's father was quite happy about it but they couldn't ask any more as the restaurant only held sixty.

Andy never knew how much money his father had. Their house was nice, but modestly furnished, his cars were usually elderly, and since his mother died seven years ago, his father had led the quietest of lives. Only over the last two years had his father and Auntie Rob been on one or two coach holidays together.

The most excited person about the marriage was, of course, Auntie Rob. She had given Mary a room of her own to use in the pre-wedding preparations and to stay in for a couple of nights before the wedding and, of course, there was a room that she'd let them have for presents.

The first time Andy had ever been in Auntie Rob's house was when he went in to look at the accumulating presents. It was like a gingerbread house, all chintz and ornaments. He hardly dared turn round in case he knocked something over. An unkind person would have called it ‘fussy' but it wasn't. It was just Auntie Rob's house.

On the last day of May they went round the hospital saying goodbye to everybody. There were tears, hugs and more presents. To his surprise, Andy found O'Sullivan crying. “Oh God man, we're gonna miss you, we'll have no one to defend us in Casualty now.”

Andy's father had come to take them home. They had dinner with him. Andy and Mary sat up late talking and then she slipped off to Auntie Rob's for the night.

The next day they hardly saw each other and Mary was busy doing last minute shopping with Auntie Rob and Andy was fixing train tickets. He had reserved seats for the train to Instow via Paddington, Exeter and Barnstaple. “Now, that's the last you see of her, young Andy, until tomorrow.”

“Oh, come off it,” said Andy, “surely.”

“No,” said Auntie Rob, “it's unlucky to see the bride the night before her wedding.”

“Night, night my love,” said Andy as they went to the door about six o'clock, “think, this time tomorrow you'll be Mrs Howard.”

“I can't wait,” said Mary.

Andy slept fretfully that night, and most of his thoughts were not about Mary, but about his mother and how she would have loved to have been there. He hadn't realized that with her having been dead for seven years, he could still miss her so much. He awoke on his wedding morning not rested, but this was a day when the sun did shine for the bride, it was lovely, the 3
rd
June, his mother's birthday.

He bathed, shaved carefully, put on his new suit and some new shoes he'd bought himself. “Very smart,” said his father.

His father had got an old morning suit out which Andy didn't think would be appropriate for the type of ceremony they were going to, but said nothing. He was dying to see Mary and wondered what she looked like. As it was a Register Office they would be going together. They had hired a wedding car and his father and Auntie Rob were going to go on ahead of them to find a parking place.

He waited impatiently until about half past ten then excited, twittering, Auntie Rob came knocking on the door. “Right,” she said, “you can come and see your beautiful bride now.” Various people such as hairdressers and florists had been coming and going to Auntie Rob's. Andy just had a white carnation in his buttonhole.

“Come on,” said Auntie Rob as Andy hesitated.

She led him into her lounge and there was Mary.

Andy almost choked, she looked so utterly beautiful. Her fair hair had been threaded with flowers, she was wearing a white linen calf-length dress, her arms were bare and she had a bouquet of mixed carnations.

“Darling,” he said, “you look so beautiful.”

“Don't you dare make me cry,” she said, “otherwise my mascara will run down my cheeks and I'll have to go and start getting dressed again.”

As they drove towards the Register Office they thought there must be some special event on, as there were crowds of people outside the hall. As they drew nearer they could hear a steel band playing. “It's bloody O'Sullivan,” said Andy, and there were crowds in the street waving and they felt like royalty. They had almost to fight their way through into the reception area, which again was crammed with people, then into the room where the ceremony was to take place. Twelve excited little girls from the children's home were in the front row. The room was tastefully furnished and the Registrar was elegantly dressed. As they went through the ceremony Andy kept on taking little glances at Mary, he just couldn't believe how beautiful she looked.

They signed the register and it was witnessed, then they sat in the Registrar's chair and had their photographs taken. Uncle Keithley got up and felt he ought to bless the wedding in the name of the Lord and the Registrar very kindly made no objection. The official photographer came, more photographs on the steps of the Town Hall and confetti covering the pavement under the sign which said ‘No Confetti'. Fortunately the reception was in a restaurant just across the road. It all seemed unreal to Andy, but Mary gripped his hand so tightly it gave him the comfort he needed, as well as pins and needles.

They had a simple meal at the restaurant, melon, ham salad and trifle. They all had a sherry when they went in and there was some sparkling wine for the toasts and the cake.

Eventually the hire car came to take them back to Auntie Rob's to change. They left the restaurant in a further shower of confetti. When they got back Mary disappeared to change and then in about fifteen minutes came out in a dazzling scarlet suit. She looked tremendous but to Andy's disappointment had taken the flowers from her hair. “Oh love,” he said, “you look absolutely gorgeous, but couldn't you have kept those flowers in your hair, they looked quite regal?”

“No,” said Mary, “everybody would have thought you had married a florist.”

The chauffeur and the hire car had waited to take them to Paddington. His father and Auntie Rob arrived just in time to say a last goodbye before they left. The chauffeur carried their cases from the hire car to the train. Andy stopped outside the first class carriage.

“What are we doing here?” said Mary.

“Nothing but the best for you today, my love,” said Andy. So they sat in the splendour of a first class carriage. They went to the Pullman Car for dinner and gazed out over the endless countryside as they sped towards Exeter.

Mary said, “I think England is uninhabited.” Apart from a few cows and sheep they hardly saw a single person between Paddington and Exeter.

They drew into St David's Station and waited on the platform for the connection to Barnstaple and Instow, which was a bit of an anti-climax. It was getting dark by now, and as they approached Instow all they could see were the street lamps.

As they approached Instow Mary became very tense. There were no taxis at the station so they had to carry their cases for a couple of hundred yards to what was now their home. It was just a dark shape and Mary was strangely silent as Andy unlocked the door. They carried the cases in, Andy leading, and as he switched on the light he heard Mary's sharp intake of breath. Andy turned, she was looking white and tense.