Free Nurse Lang by Jean S. Macleod Page A

pushing her unwilling curls securely beneath its tight headband and hoping that she looked as neat and efficient as the hospital and Grant would expect. There was a thrill of real pleasure about going back into the old familiar atmosphere of wards and convalescence and cheerful conversation again, and the dry, antiseptic smell of the place smote nostalgically against her nostrils as soon as Grant opened the great glass doors to let her pass before him into the white-tiled hall.
    “I want you to meet a friend of mine,” Grant said as he led the way along a corridor with doors opening on either side. “I’m relying on Doctor Hillier to help with Philip even before he comes over here and I think you should get on well together.”
    They turned a corner and came upon another row of doors with neat brass plates on them, and she recognized them as consulting-rooms where people came and went with hope or despair in their hearts.
    Grant stopped at the first one and she read the name on the plate. Doctor Hillier. The tempo of her heartbeats increased as he knocked at the door and went into a well-equipped consulting-room with a gay carpet on the floor, a desk at the window, two chintz-covered easy-chairs and a high couch placed conveniently near an angle-lamp on one wall. There were flower prints on the remaining walls, which were washed a pale, duck-egg blue, and Moira noticed that there were more flowers on the desk and on an occasional table in front of the long window.
    Almost a feminine room, she thought, and was hardly surprised when she turned to look into two vividly blue eyes set under a fringe of fair, soft hair.
    “This is Doctor Hillier,” Grant introduced her to the girl who had come through from an adjoining room. “Elizabeth, I want you to meet Moira Lang. She has promised to nurse Philip till we can bring him over here.”
    “I’m glad,” she said. “It will do Philip the world of good to have someone of his own age to take care of him. We couldn’t have spared you a nurse from here, Grant,” she said, smiling in his direction, “but I expect you knew that! We’re still hopelessly short-staffed and Christmas always means a spate of weddings which leave us with still more vacancies! I’m going to ring for some tea,” she added, “though I expect you’ve just had your lunch. It seems ages since I had mine. Matron seems to be treating us to a diet these days. She’s apparently under the impression that we’re all putting on too much weight!”
    While their tea was being poured Moira studied this woman who was obviously Grant’s intimate and friend as well as an able colleague. Elizabeth Hillier would be about Grant’s own age, or perhaps a year or two older, and there could be no mistaking her efficiency. It shone from her steady blue eyes and was accentuated by her crisp, astringent manner, yet beneath the surface Moira suspected an infinite fund of pity and understanding, attributes invaluable in her profession which would also make Elizabeth the sincerest of friends once her trust had been given. There could be no doubt that it had been given to Grant, and Moira felt that he must rely on Elizabeth's friendship more than a little and felt envious of what Elizabeth possessed. He had unbent in Elizabeth’s company immediately and she heard him laugh spontaneously for the first time in weeks as Elizabeth sketched a rough outline of all that had gone on at the hospital in his absence.
    “You missed the Board of Governors,” she told him, “which wasn’t fair! You’ve had two spells of ‘pressing business’ away from Mellyn when they’ve been here, and I think they’re beginning to smell a rat!”
    “I’d rather have been without this one,” he said.
    “I know.” Her face sobered. “I’ll come over and see Phil tomorrow, if I may?”
    “You know the mood he’s likely to be in.”
    “Yes, I think I know it.”
    Elizabeth had cast her mind back to those days when Philip had first