Free Tender Nurse by Hilda Nickson Page A

Nurse Craig? Suction in case it’s needed?”
    “Yes, sir. Everything’s ready.”
    Rita was wheeled in and lifted gently on to the table, her glamorous hair now hidden beneath a white operation cap, her face devoid of make-up.
    Martin gave her one of his rare smiles. “You’ll soon be all right, Nurse. Sure you won’t have an eye bandage?”
    She smiled tremulously, and moistened her dry lips.
    “No, thank you, Mr. Graham. I don’t want to miss a thing.”
    “Right.” He turned to Nurse Craig. “Scalpel, Nurse.”
    Then minutes later he held up an inflamed appendix.
    “There you are, Nurse Wainwright. A few more minutes and you’d have had a perforation. You’ll be all right now.”
    He glanced at Andrea. “Swab count, Nurse Grey.”
    “Eight swabs,” she replied quickly, having already taken a mental note. He glanced at Nurse Craig for confirmation.
    “Good. Catgut. Michel clips and away we go.”
    The last clip in position, he stripped off his gloves and Andrea helped him off with his gown. Rita was lifted carefully back on to the trolley to be taken to the small staff annexe attached to one of the women’s surgical wards.
    “That was very well done, Nurse Craig,” Martin said.
    “Thank you, sir.”
    He washed his hands and clumped out of the theatre.
    “Are you in a hurry to get off, Grey?” Jean asked.
    “No, Nurse.”
    “Good. Then go and put the kettle on and make the tea. We’ll start the clearing up.”
    With lightning speed, instruments were being washed and boiled, linen bundled up and catgut put back into Lysol.
    Andrea went round to the theatre kitchen and put on the kettle, Martin was stretched out in an arm chair in the small sitting room opposite, his white rubber boots still on his feet.
    “Help me off with these things, will you, Nurse Grey?” he said as she came in.
    She bent down and, putting her hand on the heel of each boot, gently eased them off.
    “Thanks.”
    Andrea got out two cups and the milk and sugar. He watched her for a minute, then said: “Only two cups? Don’t you and Nurse Craig want a drink?”
    “I — I don’t know. Nurse Craig didn’t say.”
    “In that case, we’ll have to invite you — isn’t that so, George?” he asked as George came in.
    “What?” asked George, giving Andrea’s ear a tweak.
    “The nurses must have tea with us.”
    George’s eyes flickered with faint surprise, but he merely said. “Oh, sure,” and took the other armchair.
    Andrea made the tea just as Jean Craig came into the kitchen. Jean took the pot into the sitting room and Andrea went back to the theatre. In spite of Mr. Graham’s “invitation” she did not feel that she was really expected to join them.
    Pat Rivers was already drying the gleaming instruments and putting them away. Andrea set about emptying lotion bowls and drying gloves. Then she began wiping all the fittings over with disinfectant.
    “Have you much more to do, Grey?” Pat asked.
    “No, just this and the mopping out.”
    “Do you mind if I go?”
    “No, I won’t be long.”
    She said good night, and no sooner had she gone, than Jean Craig came in.
    “Grey, Mr. Graham says you’re to come and have a cup of tea.”
    “But I haven’t finished yet, Nurse.”
    “Never mind. We’ll finish off later. His word is law, you know. I think he’s taken quite a fancy to you, Grey,” she added as they walked back to the sitting room.
    Andrea colored. “I — I don’t think so, Nurse. In fact, I got on the wrong side of him before I’d been here many hours.”
    “Well, you’re on the right side of him now.”
    “Ah, here they are,” said George as they entered the sitting room. “What do you mean by deserting us like that?”
    “Nurse Grey is very conscientious,” said Jean. “She likes to do her fair share of the work.”
    Andrea saw a faint smile cross Martin’s features, and thought suddenly of some of his earlier caustic comments.
    Jean disappeared into the kitchen to put more water