Betty Neels - The Hasty Marriage

Joyce had left several jobs if the truth were to be told; she became bored easily, or the office was too small, the people she worked with not to her liking or she wasn’t paid enough… But Laura was a loyal sister.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ she told him carefully, ‘it upsets her to see people who are ill—she’s young and it’s difficult to decide what one wants to do sometimes. I expect she’ll stay at home…’

‘You didn’t, you decided,’ he persisted.

‘Yes, but nursing was something I wanted to do.’ She didn’t tell him that she had wanted to be a doctor, but somehow it had all fallen through because Joyce had to be educated at the best schools. It had taken her a long time to get over the disappointment. But that had been ten years ago and in that time she had become content enough, but always cherishing the hope that she would meet the man she would want to marry and who would want to marry her—and now she had, and a lot of good it had done her. She roused herself from her thoughts to hear her companion say, ‘Joyce is a very lovely girl, she must have any number of men friends.’

‘Oh, rather, but not one special one.’

‘And you?’ he asked, to surprise her.

She told him no rather shortly and briskly changed the conversation. ‘Are you going to be in England long?’

They were driving more slowly now, with London’s outskirts creeping upon them from all sides. ‘A week or so—I have to go to Birmingham in a few days and then to Edinburgh. I hope I may have the opportunity of seeing you again before I go back.’

‘But you’ll be driving Godfather home, won’t you?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Oh, you mean to come and see us before then,’ she stated forthrightly. ‘I’m sure Father and Joyce will love to see you—don’t wait to be invited…’

‘Joyce has asked me to stay the night on my way to Birmingham if I could arrange it—perhaps I could give you a lift home? Let me see, it would be on a Friday or Saturday—next weekend.’

‘What a pity,’ said Laura instantly, longing to accept and perversely determined to do no such thing, ‘I’ve already promised my staff nurse the weekend and I couldn’t possibly disappoint her, but thank you for asking.’ She would have to remember to give Pat Emery, her right hand on the ward, a long weekend and invent some excuse for not taking her own usual weekend. ‘If you would drop me off somewhere along Stratford Broadway, I can pick up a bus. I’ve heaps of time.’

‘I’m going to St Anne’s—I have to meet Mr Burnett there.’

She would be seeing Mr Burnett herself in a few hours’ time; he was the senior consulting surgeon on Men’s Surgical. She said: ‘Oh,’ rather blankly and added, ‘Do you know the way?’

‘Yes, thanks.’ He demonstrated his knowledge by taking a short cut through the rather dingy streets around them. ‘Do you go to Holland to visit your godfather?’

‘No, but I’d like to. He’s always come to us, you see. He and Father are such old friends—they talk and talk…’ She broke off as there was a sudden commotion in front of them; a squealing of brakes, shouting and a dog’s yelp. The car in front of them turned off the road, giving them a view of a group of people standing to stare at a little dog lying in the road. It tried to crawl away, yelped again, and lay still.

‘Stop!’ commanded Laura, and without waiting to see if her companion would do so, undid her seat belt and put an urgent hand on the door. Doctor van Meerum drew up smoothly, put out a restraining hand to stop her and said calmly, ‘Stay where you are—I’ll go and look.’

‘Don’t you dare leave him there!’ she urged him fiercely. ‘They drove on, the brutes—and look at all those miserable people, staring…’

He didn’t answer her, but got out of the car and crossed the street to where the dog lay, squatting on his heels to examine it and then picking it up carefully and carrying it back to the car, quite unheeding of the warning voices telling him that he would get bitten for his pains. The unhappy creature he held didn’t look capable of biting anything or anyone; Laura whisked the scarf from her neck and spread it on her knees, and opened the door to receive the stricken creature on to her lap.

‘Hind legs broken,’ said the doctor. ‘Do you suppose there’s a chance of patching him up in Casualty?’

Laura gave him a grateful look. ‘Yes—the Sister in charge is a great friend of mine, she could hide us away somewhere…could we hurry?’ She put a gentle hand on the whimpering little creature. ‘He must be in frightful pain. If only I’d seen who ran him down.’ Her voice was wobbly with her rage and the doctor gave her a long look, although he said nothing as he got back into the car and drove with what speed he could to the hospital, where he drove round to Casualty entrance, told Laura to sit still and went inside, to return almost immediately with Sylvia Matthews. She greeted Laura with a cheerful: ‘Hi there, ducky, what’s all this about a casualty?’ She cast an eye over the bedraggled little beast and grinned at the doctor beside her. ‘A hushed-up job, I gather? Do you want to do it, sir, or shall I get the CO?’

‘Oh, I’ll do it, I think, Sister, then if there’s any trouble I can deal with it. But we shall need someone to give the dope. Are you busy?’

‘Not at the moment. There’s an end cubicle you can have; whoever does the round hardly ever goes there, and if they do…’

‘I’ll take the blame,’ said the doctor easily, and opened the car door. ‘Laura, it would be less painful for that little beast if you could manage to get out and hold him at the same time.’

She nodded and slid carefully out of the car and into Casualty, where, obedient to the doctor’s advice, she sat down carefully again in the poky little cubicle at the end of the passage while one of the anaesthetists was fetched. He stared rather when he saw the patient and began an indignant: ‘I say, Laura old girl, I can’t…’ before he caught sight of Doctor van Meerum and stopped. ‘Sorry, sir—you’re the old man’s—I should say, Mr Burnett’s Dutch colleague, aren’t you? We were told that you would be here.’

‘Splendid,’ murmured the doctor, and stripped off his jacket. ‘If I could have an apron, and if you could knock this little chap out for long enough for us to set him to rights, I should be greatly obliged.’ He smiled with great charm. ‘I don’t know your name…’

‘Clark, sir, Jeremy Clark. I’m with Mr Burnett for six months. I’ll get the dope.’

To save the dog more pain, he rather gingerly put him under with Laura still holding him on her lap, but the moment the small creature had been transferred to the table she stood up, rolled up her sleeves and professed herself ready to help. ‘I’m not on duty until eleven o’clock,’ she explained, ‘and if anyone comes, you can head them off, Sylvia.’

Her friend nodded. ‘And there’ll be coffee when you’re through—in my office.’ She whisked away with a wave of the hand and a conspirator’s wink.

The dog’s legs were miraculously clean breaks. Doctor van Meerum set them, put them into plaster and set about checking for other injuries. When finally he straightened his massive frame, he remarked: ‘Nothing else, bar some bad bruising. What are we going to do with him?’

Jeremy spoke first. ‘What about a dogs’ home?’

‘Certainly not!’ exploded Laura. ‘And he must surely belong to someone—ought we to advertise or tell the police, and I’ll keep him in my room until…’

The doctor interrupted her. ‘I doubt if he belongs to anyone,’ he observed, ‘he’s half starved and he hasn’t a collar. I think, if you would agree, Laura, that he should come with me.’