Бетти Нильс – The Moon for Lavinia (страница 3)

Lavinia gave them without trying to make more of them than they were.

‘And your reasons for wishing to work with us?’

She told them the truth, fined down to the facts and without enlarging upon Aunt Gwyneth. ‘I think I could live on the salary you offer and have my sister to live with me, something we both would like very much—I can’t do that here because I can’t afford a flat—I live in at Jerrold’s. I should like to live in Amsterdam too; I’ve never been out of England.’

‘You like your work?’

‘Very much.’

‘You are accustomed to scrub?’

‘Yes. There are four theatres in our unit, I work in General Surgery and take most of the cases when Sister is off duty.’

‘You have no objection to us referring to your superiors at the hospital?’

‘No, none at all. If I should be considered for the job, I should have to give a month’s notice.’

They all three smiled at her and Mevrouw Platsma said: ‘Thank you, Miss Hawkins, we will let you know at the earliest opportunity.’

She went back to Jerrold’s feeling uncertain; her qualifications were good, she would be given excellent references she felt sure, but then so might the other girls who had been there. She told herself sensibly to forget about it, something easily done, as it turned out, for there was an emergency perforation that evening, followed by a ruptured appendix. She went off duty too tired to do more than eat a sketchy supper, have a bath, and go to bed.

There was a letter by the first post in the morning. She had got the job. She did an excited little jig in the scrubbing-up room, begged permission to go to the office at once, and presented herself, rather breathless still, before the Principal Nursing Officer’s desk.

Miss Mint heard her out, expressed regret that she should want to leave, but added in the same breath that it was a splendid thing to broaden one’s mind when young and that should Lavinia wish to return to Jerrold’s at some future date, she could be sure of a post—if there was one vacant—at any time. She finished this encouraging speech by observing that probably she had some holidays due to her, in which case she should be able to leave sooner.

Lavinia becamed at her. ‘Oh, Miss Mint, I have—a week. I knew you would understand about me wanting to go somewhere where I could have Peta with me…I only hope I’ll make a success of it.’

Miss Mint smiled. ‘I can think of no reason why you shouldn’t,’ she said encouragingly. ‘Come and see me before you go, Staff Nurse. I shall of course supply references when they are required.’

Lavinia went through the rest of the day in a daze, doing her work with her usual efficiency while she thought about her new job. She spent a good deal of her lunch hour writing to accept the post, and only restrained herself by a great effort from writing to Peta too, but there was always the danger that their aunt would read the letter, and telephoning would be just as chancy; she should have thought of that sooner and arranged for her sister to telephone her on her way home from school. Now the news would have to wait until she paid her weekly visit on Saturday.

The days flashed by; she received particulars of her job, how she was to travel, and the day on which she was expected, as well as the gratifying news that her references were entirely satisfactory. She had a few pounds saved; the temptation to spend some of them on new clothes was very strong, so on her morning off she went along to Oxford Street.

It was a splendid day and the gay summer clothes in the shop windows exactly matched her mood; discarding all sensible ideas about practical rainwear, hard-wearing shoes and colours which wouldn’t show the dirt, she plunged recklessly, returning to the Nurses’ Home laden with parcels; new sandals—pretty pink ones to match the pink cotton dress and jacket she hadn’t been able to resist, a pale green linen skirt with a darling little linen blouse to go with it, and as well as these, a long cardigan which happily matched them both. There was a dress too, pale green silk jersey, and as a sop to her conscience, a raincoat, coffee-coloured and lightweight. She laid everything out on her bed and admired them and tried not to think of all the money she had spent, cheering herself with the thought that she still had something tucked away and enough besides to get her through the first month in Amsterdam before she would be paid. And when Peta joined her, she would buy her some pretty dresses too; Aunt Gwyneth’s ideas ran to the serviceable and dull for her niece; the two of them would scour Amsterdam for the sort of clothes girls of Peta’s age liked to wear.

Her sister was waiting for her when she got to Cuckfield on Saturday morning and so was their aunt. There was no chance to talk at all until after lunch, and then only for a few minutes while Aunt Gwyneth was telephoning. ‘It’s OK,’ said Lavinia softly. ‘I’ve got the job—I’m going two weeks today. I’ll tell Aunt when I come next week, but only that I’m going—nothing about you yet—and don’t say anything, love, whatever you do.’ She smiled at Peta. ‘Try not to look so happy, darling. Tell me about your exams—do you think you did well?’

She didn’t stay as long as usual; her aunt had a bridge date directly after tea and was anxious for her to be gone, and a tentative suggestion that she might take Peta out for the evening was met with a number of perfectly feasible reasons why she shouldn’t. That was the trouble with Aunt Gwyneth, thought Lavinia crossly, she never flatly refused anything, which made it very hard to argue with her. She wondered, as she went back to London, how her aunt would take the news of her new job.

She thought about it several times during the ensuing week, but theatre was busy and there really wasn’t much time to worry about anything else. Saturday, when it came, was another cloudless day. Lavinia, in a rather old cotton dress because she was starting on the business of packing her things, felt cheerful as she walked the short distance from the station to her aunt’s house. And her aunt seemed in a good mood too, so that without giving herself time to get nervous, Lavinia broke her news.

It was received with surprising calm. ‘Let us hope,’ said her aunt ponderously, ‘that this new venture will improve your status sufficiently for you to obtain a more senior post later on—it is the greatest pity that you did not take up nursing immediately you left school, for you must be a good deal older than the average staff nurse.’

Lavinia let this pass. It was partly true in any case, though it need not have been mentioned in such unkind terms. Everyone knew quite well why she had stayed at home when she had left school; her mother was alone and Peta was still a small girl, and over and above that, her mother hadn’t been strong. She said now, schooling her voice to politeness: ‘I don’t know about that, Aunt, but the change will be nice and the pay’s good.’

‘As long as you don’t squander it,’ replied Aunt Gwyneth tartly. ‘But it is a good opportunity for you to see something of the world, I suppose; the time will come when I shall need a companion, as you well know. Peta will be far too young and lively for me, and I shall expect you, Lavinia, to give up your nursing and look after me. It is the least you can do for me after the sacrifices I have made for you both.’

Lavinia forbore from commenting that she had had nothing done for her at all; even holidays and days off had been denied her, and though she was a fair-minded girl, the worthy stockings, edifying books and writing paper she had received so regularly at Christmas and birthdays could hardly be classed as sacrifices. And her aunt could quite well afford to pay for a companion; someone she could bully if she wanted to and who would be able to answer back without the chain of family ties to hold her back. She sighed with deep contentment, thinking of her new job, and her aunt mistaking her reason for sighing, remarked that she was, and always had been, an ungrateful girl.

Lavinia wasn’t going to see Peta again before she left England, although she had arranged to telephone her at a friend’s house before she went. She spent the week in making final arrangements, aided, and hindered too, by her many friends. They had a party for her on her last night, with one bottle of sherry between a dozen or more of them, a great many pots of tea and a miscellany of food. There was a great deal of laughing and talking too, and when someone suggested that Lavinia should find herself a husband while she was in Holland, a chorus of voices elaborated the idea. ‘Someone rich—good-looking—both—with an enormous house so that they could all come and stay…’ The party broke up in peals of laughter. Lavinia was very popular, but no one really believed that she was likely to find herself such a delightful future, and she believed it least of all.

She left the next morning, after a guarded telephone talk with Peta and a noisy send-off from her friends at Jerrold’s. She was to go by plane, and the novelty of that was sufficient to keep her interested until the flat coast of Holland appeared beneath them and drove home the fact that she had finally left her safe, rather dull life behind, and for one she didn’t know much about. They began to circle Schiphol airport, and she sat rigid. Supposing that after all no one spoke English? Dutch, someone had told her, was a fearful language until you got the hang of it. Supposing that there had been some mistake and when she arrived no one expected her? Supposing the theatre technique was different, even though they had said it wasn’t…? She followed the other passengers from the plane, went through Customs and boarded the bus waiting to take her to Amsterdam.