for their free periods to coincide she and Shorty were usually to be found at the club at least twice a week.
One morning, expecting a letter from Australia, she went along to the porter's desk in the main building to see if there were any letters for her. There was one, but not the one she had expected, so tucking it in her bib she was on her way back to the ward when she ran into Shorty. He was not looking pleased with life as he waylaid her.
"It's a damn rotten shame !" he announced.
"What is?" Fay demanded.
"I can't keep our date tonight. Sorry and all that—but blame my new boss."
"Oh?"
"Yes," the scowling young man went on. "You know I told you I was being switched to a surgical firm—well, I would get stuck with the stuffiest of the lot. My new Registrar tells me I'm expected to stand by on call all this week and half of next—just in case there's a theatre call."
"Well, that's reasonable, isn't it?" Fay enquired mildly.
"No, it isn't!" Shorty denied forcefully. "Not when I've been switched a week before I was due—just to suit their convenience—and considering my date with you was fixed before I knew that. He's just being his silly pompous self—it isn't as if he hadn't got two other housemen attached to hold his hand if need arises."
"Oh well, never mind—there'll be plenty of other times. And he wasn't to know, was he?"
"Yes, he was," Shorty was not going to give up his grievance easily. "I told him all about—who and where and why —I told him you'd got to get in a lot of practice if we're to stand a chance in the club championships—but that didn't budge him From the look on his face I thought he was going to tell me that a surgeon's life had to be a dedicated one—"
"Well, so it has," Fay pointed out.
"Oh, yes—" said the young man impatiently, "but—" he broke off suddenly. "Strewth! There is his lordship, and I'm due in Stanhope to do his round with him. Be seeing you—"
and Shorty was off at as near a run as his long legs and the slippery corridor permitted.
In the staff kitchen of Anderson Ward she found that with five minutes to spare she had time to read the letter she had tucked into her apron. It was from Toni and seemed to be in answer to the bread and butter letter which Fay had addressed to her weeks before. Toni's handwriting was firm and clear, but many of her sentences trailed off unfinished and a lot of the matter was unintelligible because of non sequiturs. Obviously Toni was no better, rather worse, and the realisation made Fay a little sad.
One paragraph was unmistakably clear, however. It ran: "Have you been seeing much of Mark lately? I do so want you two to like one another." Fortunately, Fay thought, she didn't have to answer that question, for the rest of the letter made it abundantly clear that Toni would have forgotten she had ever asked it long before a reply could reach her.
She sighed as she put the letter back in her pocket. Life was queer.
Flip came into the room as she was preparing to leave. "What's all that in aid of?" she demanded. "You in love or something, sighing like that?"
"Definitely not," Fay told her sharply.
"Just as well," the other girl opined. "There's another hoo-ha on with Registry. Sister's in the ward and yelling for you to sort it out."
In the ward Sister Browning was coping with a new admission—or rather, a readmission who rejoiced in the name of Paul Jones.
"Oh, there you are, Staff," Sister greeted her. "They've sent this child up without any notes. Registry say they can't find them and that therefore I must have them." Sister Browning was not renowned for her methodical habits and was at perpetual loggerheads with Registry. "But I haven't —I returned them about three months ago when he was discharged. I must have them because Dr. Fisher will be up to do her rounds in less than an hour. Chase them up for me, will you, Staff, and tell them that I'm quite sure I haven't
got the notes. I've checked. And please don't
One morning, expecting a letter from Australia, she went along to the porter's desk in the main building to see if there were any letters for her. There was one, but not the one she had expected, so tucking it in her bib she was on her way back to the ward when she ran into Shorty. He was not looking pleased with life as he waylaid her.
"It's a damn rotten shame !" he announced.
"What is?" Fay demanded.
"I can't keep our date tonight. Sorry and all that—but blame my new boss."
"Oh?"
"Yes," the scowling young man went on. "You know I told you I was being switched to a surgical firm—well, I would get stuck with the stuffiest of the lot. My new Registrar tells me I'm expected to stand by on call all this week and half of next—just in case there's a theatre call."
"Well, that's reasonable, isn't it?" Fay enquired mildly.
"No, it isn't!" Shorty denied forcefully. "Not when I've been switched a week before I was due—just to suit their convenience—and considering my date with you was fixed before I knew that. He's just being his silly pompous self—it isn't as if he hadn't got two other housemen attached to hold his hand if need arises."
"Oh well, never mind—there'll be plenty of other times. And he wasn't to know, was he?"
"Yes, he was," Shorty was not going to give up his grievance easily. "I told him all about—who and where and why —I told him you'd got to get in a lot of practice if we're to stand a chance in the club championships—but that didn't budge him From the look on his face I thought he was going to tell me that a surgeon's life had to be a dedicated one—"
"Well, so it has," Fay pointed out.
"Oh, yes—" said the young man impatiently, "but—" he broke off suddenly. "Strewth! There is his lordship, and I'm due in Stanhope to do his round with him. Be seeing you—"
and Shorty was off at as near a run as his long legs and the slippery corridor permitted.
In the staff kitchen of Anderson Ward she found that with five minutes to spare she had time to read the letter she had tucked into her apron. It was from Toni and seemed to be in answer to the bread and butter letter which Fay had addressed to her weeks before. Toni's handwriting was firm and clear, but many of her sentences trailed off unfinished and a lot of the matter was unintelligible because of non sequiturs. Obviously Toni was no better, rather worse, and the realisation made Fay a little sad.
One paragraph was unmistakably clear, however. It ran: "Have you been seeing much of Mark lately? I do so want you two to like one another." Fortunately, Fay thought, she didn't have to answer that question, for the rest of the letter made it abundantly clear that Toni would have forgotten she had ever asked it long before a reply could reach her.
She sighed as she put the letter back in her pocket. Life was queer.
Flip came into the room as she was preparing to leave. "What's all that in aid of?" she demanded. "You in love or something, sighing like that?"
"Definitely not," Fay told her sharply.
"Just as well," the other girl opined. "There's another hoo-ha on with Registry. Sister's in the ward and yelling for you to sort it out."
In the ward Sister Browning was coping with a new admission—or rather, a readmission who rejoiced in the name of Paul Jones.
"Oh, there you are, Staff," Sister greeted her. "They've sent this child up without any notes. Registry say they can't find them and that therefore I must have them." Sister Browning was not renowned for her methodical habits and was at perpetual loggerheads with Registry. "But I haven't —I returned them about three months ago when he was discharged. I must have them because Dr. Fisher will be up to do her rounds in less than an hour. Chase them up for me, will you, Staff, and tell them that I'm quite sure I haven't
got the notes. I've checked. And please don't
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