Arthur Upfield - Wings above the Diamantina

The Vigil

ELIZABETH RELIEVED the housekeeper at ten o’clock leaving the men to depart for Nettlefold’s study.

“I think she is sleeping, Miss Elizabeth,” Hetty reported. “I closed her eyes and turned her on her side half an hour ago. You will find the spirit lamp and the supper things in your dressing-room. Now, what time will I relieve you? Remember, you have not slept since last night.”

They stood just outside the bedroom, the door almost shut. The corridor was lit by one electric bulb midway along it. The electric power had to be conserved, so that it had been decided to light an oil lamp, placed on a small table opposite Elizabeth’s bedroom door after all had gone to bed.

“Mr Nettlefold and Sergeant Cox will be leaving for Emu Lake at six in the morning, Hetty,” Elizabeth said. “If you will, please get up in time to see that they have a proper breakfast and take good lunches with them. After they have gone you can relieve me. I have explained everything to Dr Knowles, and he tells me he will be staying until to-morrow afternoon.”

“What does he think? Oh, Miss Elizabeth, will the poor girl get better?”

“We hope so, Hetty.”

“And Sergeant Cox!”Hetty’s hands began to flutter like a bird’s wings. “Has he found out who she is?”

Elizabeth shook her head.

“No. He hasn’t found out yet. No one seems ever to have seen her before. Now, be off to bed, Hetty. You must be tired.”

“Very well! Good night, Miss Elizabeth!”

Again within her room, Elizabeth passed across to the bed to make sure that her patient was lying comfortably. That was more difficult than it sounds, because the girl was unable to voice a complaint or even subconsciously to move her body. For a while Elizabeth listened to her regular breathing, to become convinced that she was sleeping.

The room was large and oblong in shape, the corridor wall taking one side and two pairs offrench windows occupying spaces in the opposite side. The bed had its head to one of the shorter walls, while in the opposite one was the door leading to the dressing-room. As well as the small table beside the bed there was a larger one set against the corridor wall to the right of the door. On this table Elizabeth set the shaded electric lamp, and beside it she placed her chair so that she was able to face both the corridor door and the patient’s bed, the dressing-room door then being partly at her back and the two windows on her left.

Before settling in her chair to await the doctor’s promised visit, she crossed to the windows to close one pair and to draw the light curtains before both. Here, in western Queensland, there was absolutely no necessity to lock and bar windows and doors, and from one year’s end to the other neither windows nor doors were ever locked at Coolibah.

Shortly after eleven, Dr Knowles came in without a sound. He waved her back into her chair before closing the door, and, stepping across to the table, seated himself on the edge of it and scrutinized her closely.

About him there was a faint aroma of alcohol. His face was flushed, and before he sat down she noticed that he staggered ever so slightly. Yet when he spoke his voice was steady, clear, and low.

“You will have to guard against bed sores. Do you know how?” he asked.

“If by constantly moving the patient…”

“Exactly. During the night she must be moved from side to side, say every two hours. Most of us cannot sleep when lying on the left side, so you should be careful not to put your patient too far over that way. Throughout the day she may be allowed to lie on her back, but she must be constantly eased and half-turned to right or left, and maintained in those positions with pillows. Bed sores are the very devil to get rid of once they come, and our patient’s absolute helplessness will be productive of them unless every care is taken. You are still determined to nurse her?”

“Yes! Oh yes!” was her quick reply.

“Why?”

The interrogative was snapped at her. For a second she was confused. Then:

“Perhaps the answer to this question will be my answer to yours,” she suggested hesitantly. “Why do you fly about the country so recklessly?”

The dark brows drew closer together, and the white lids narrowed before the dark eyes. He was instantly on his guard, and Elizabeth knew it.

“I never fly recklessly,” was his evasive answer.

“Answer my question, please, if you want yours answered,” she persisted.

He smiled faintly.

“I believe I can correctly guess the answer you think I would make. No, I do not fly everywhere, and take what may be thought risks, because I am bored with life. In fact, if I had not found life most interesting, I should have departed from it years ago. How is it that life bores you?”

“I am not bored…now, Doctor. Iwas… terribly. Dad is always happy to live here in the bush. So was my mother. I should be, too, but I am not. I have never been truly happy here after I gave up my studies to come home and look after Dad. You see, I don’t do anything. Managing Hetty who manages the house is not doing anything, really. I cannot be bothered with the garden, and horses and car driving no longer interest me. If my mother was living or I had sisters…”

Knowles was staring at her-not rudely-merely as though he saw her clearly for, the first time.

“After a while you will find nursing boring, too,” he warned her.

“Oh no, I won’t!” she hastened to assure him. “It will give me something to do-something to think about. Do you know that for the last three years I have done nothing but read novels? I keep all the men supplied with reading matter.”

“There are plenty of people who wish they could do just that, Miss Nettlefold,” he pointed out, and then began to scribble with a fountain pen on a writing-pad. When he had finished he went on: “I have drawn up a diet list for the time being. Follow it strictly. I may alter it later. As the patient is sleeping, I will look in at daybreak, and then, during the morning, we will make another and a more careful examination of her.”

“You will let her stay with us?”

“Until you relax in your duties or”-and he smiled for the first time-“or I find out that you think you know more about it than I do. Now, no temper, please! I think she will be better off here in your care than in the hospital at Winton, but should you tire say so instantly, and I will remove her to Winton, She has no claims on you, remember.”

“Yes, she has,” Elizabeth said, a little fiercely. “She has conquered my boredom, and if only you knew what that means-”

“Believe me, I know what boredom is,” he said, quietly cutting in. “There is only one thing worse than boredom, and that is memory. Boredom can be banished, but memory cannot be obliterated. Now, I’ll be off. If the patient wakes during the night-but no! Feed her with coffee containing a teaspoonful of brandy to the cup at one o’clock and at four o’clock. If you should see any change in her, call me at once. Good night… Nurse!”

They rose together.

“Good night, Doctor!”

Having smiled at her for the second time, he spent a few seconds beside the bed feeling the patient’s pulse, and then left. From the table in the corridor he picked up the newly opened bottle of whisky and the glass he had placed there before entering the room, and departed for his own.

A few minutes after the doctor had gone, Elizabeth heard her father conducting the sergeant to his room; then heard the sergeant’s door quietly closed, and a moment later heard her father close his. The petrol engine running the electric light had long been stopped, and the accordion player now was fast asleep. The house was silent, and the world of the bush surrounding the homestead was silent, too.