Betty Neels - Sister Peters in Amsterdam

“I must thank you for getting me out last night. I was very frightened, you know. It was so dark. I believe you saved our lives, and I am indeed grateful. Just thanking you doesn’t seem enough,” she added worriedly.

“Thanking me is quite enough, Sister Peters. It just so happened that I was there. It could have been anyone else, you know.” She felt surprised at this.

“But I knew it would be you.” The professor was studying the papers before him, his pen busy once more, and she didn’t expect an answer. She gave a small, unconscious sigh.

“Did you and Dr. Beekman sleep last night? You both look very tired.”

“It was hardly worth it, Sister. We’ll go off early if we can.” He glanced up from his work, half smiling. “Thank you for you solicitude. Now, if you are ready, shall we have the next patient?”

Romance readers around the world were sad to note the passing of BETTY NEELS in June 2001. Her career spanned thirty years, and she continued to write into her ninetieth year. To her millions of fans, Betty epitomized the romance writer, and yet she began writing almost by accident. She had retired from nursing, but her inquiring mind still sought stimulation. Her new career was born when she heard a lady in her local library bemoaning the lack of good romance novels. Betty’s first book, Sister Peters in Amsterdam, was published in 1969, and she eventually completed 134 books. Her novels offer a reassuring warmth that was very much a part of her own personality. She was a wonderful writer, and she will be greatly missed. Her spirit and genuine talent will live on in all her stories.

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CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

IT was one o’clock, the corridor leading from the main hospital to the Children’s Unit was very quiet. As Matron accompanied the professor to the ward, her thoughts were busy. She knew that the morning clinics were over; Sister Peters would be back from lunch and the children should be quiet enough for him to have a talk with her, before making his decision.

When the exchange plan had first been suggested by the Grotehof Hospital in Amsterdam, her own hospital committee had had no hesitation in recommending Sister Peters, who was in charge of Children’s Casualty and Out-Patients as well as the ward. However, she had hardly expected matters to have gone forward as rapidly as they had. The professor had arrived within a few hours of his conversation with her, and she had had no time to speak to Sister Peters. She hoped that everything would go smoothly. As they reached the glass doors of the ward, she looked at the tall man beside her; he seemed very pleasant; rather quiet perhaps, but he had a charming voice and spoke excellent English. He did not open the doors but stood watching the girl sitting on a low chair with her back to them. She wore a shapeless white gown over her uniform, but the frilled cap—a dainty affair of spotted muslin—perched on top of a coil of vivid red hair, showed her rank. She had just put down a feeding bottle on the table before her, as she hoisted a fat baby on to her shoulder. She patted his back while he glared at them through the door. Presently he gave a loud burp and was rewarded by a light kiss on the top of his head as he was neatly tucked under her arm while she stooped to lift a fallen toddler to its feet again. As she stood up, two small children ran over to her and caught hold of her apron and toddled beside her as she went over to the cots. The doors squeaked as the professor opened them, but she didn’t look around.

‘I’m all behind, Nurse.’ She spoke in a clear, unworried voice. ‘Johnny’s been sick again. I popped him into a bath and put him back to bed. He’d better be seen as soon as I can get someone.’ She tucked the baby expertly into his cot, picked up one of the toddlers and looked over her shoulder. She was surprised to see Matron, but remained unruffled. Still holding the child, she went across the ward to her. She was a pretty girl, with large brown eyes, extravagantly fringed with black lashes, a small straight nose and a wide mouth, nicely turned up at the corners. She was smiling as she spoke to Matron.

‘Good afternoon, Matron. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.’ Matron returned her smile.

‘Good afternoon, Sister. Have you no nurses on duty?’

‘The clinics were late this morning, Matron. Nurses are all at second dinner; they’ll be back any minute now.’

She glanced at the man standing so quietly at Matron’s side. She supposed he was a visiting doctor looking around the hospital, and wondered why he chose to come at such an awkward time. Matron’s next words cut across her thoughts.

‘Sister, this is Professor van Essen, senior consultant pediatrician at the Grotehof Hospital in Amsterdam.’ She paused. ‘He is just taking a look round.’ She tuned to him. ‘Professor, this is Sister Peters.’

The girl put out her hand. ‘How do you do, sir?’ She smiled at him in a friendly way, and thought how handsome he was in a dark, beaky-nosed fashion.

The professor shook hands and returned her smile, saying only, ‘How do you do’ in a rather formal way. He caught Matron’s eye.

‘May I go round with Sister, Matron? That is, if she can spare the time.’

He waited patiently while Sister Peters took off her gown, handed the toddlers over to a nurse who had just come in, and put on her cuffs. Having adjusted these to a nicety, she indicated her readiness to conduct him around the ward. His tour was a thorough one, his questions searching and numerous. Sister Peters began to think that he would never go, and blushed guiltily when he said at length:

‘Forgive me for taking up so much of your time, Sister. I do have an excellent reason for doing so, and that must be my excuse.’ He hesitated, and she thought he was going to say more; instead he smiled at her so charmingly that she felt a distinct stab of regret when he left the ward.

She wondered about him once or twice during the rest of the day and so far forgot herself as to day-dream about him—something quite alien to her nature, for she was a sensible young woman who accepted her life cheerfully and made the most of it. Only persistent cries of ‘Adelaide, it’s your turn to make the tea’ from the other occupants of the Sisters’ sitting room brought her back to reality, and as she jumped to her feet to put the kettle on, she told herself not to waste her time on such senseless mooning. This sensible attitude of mind, however, did not last very long, and her last thoughts before she slept that night were of the professor from Holland.