Free Nurse Jess by Joyce Dingwell Page A

a wise sidelong look.
    Practical Glenda sniffed. “ A rose by another name; ” she reminded. “ What does it matter so long as the money comes ?”
    Miranda, now shares in that popular private nursing home, agreed at once.
    Mavis, a young matron if not a nursing one, listened indulgently and a little pityingly, but Margaret and Jessa only listened—at least Jessa did—ruefully. No title or esteem for them, Jessa was thinking, and very little money.
    Also discipline, as Margaret, consulting her watch, established indubitably with a gasped, “ Ten past, Jessa, we ’ ll have to take off. ”
    “ You poor little subordinates, ” pitied Rene.
    “ Don ’ t say we didn ’ t warn you, ” reminded Dinah.
    It had no effect on Margaret, sweet, calm, satisfied Margaret, but Jessa felt a little disgruntled.
    Several times on their way back to Belinda she opened her mouth to remark something of the kind, but one look at the peaceful contented face beside her kept her silent.
    More than ever she found herself resolving to bring about a close association between the dedicated Margaret and the dedicated Professor. Why, they were made for each other, she thought. From now on she must make it her goal.
    As they alighted from the bus and walked up the hospital drive she told herself that she might as well do that good deed, anyhow, because, the way she was feeling right now, she would never be much good at anything else, not at Belinda. Undoubtedly the girls had unsettled her. Their social position ... the fun they had... their rewards. Here at Lady Belinda there was only hard work and no position, no fun, really no reward.
    ...No reward?
    The moment she entered the nurseries she knew it again, that worthwhile feeling. She tiptoed into the little cubicle and looked at the result of yesterday ’ s miracle, the Rh baby, who, with her help as well as the others, should grow into a lovely woman; her beautiful Country Girl.
    Yes, oh, yes, there was reward.
    When she went downstairs for tea she noticed that at last her letter had been taken. He had given her three days to claim it and she had not claimed it. Now he must draw the conclusion that she had deliberately inferred.
    Instead of feeling self-sacrificing and saintly, even martyr like , she felt curiously deflated, oddly unhappy. Thank goodness there was only the week-end, then Monday and Tuesday to go before they left for Crescent Island.
    Luckily Margaret ’ s excitement was contagious. She lost a lot of her deflation showing Margaret on the map just where Crescent was, telling her how distant it was, how long the journey would take.
    But somehow she could not lose it all —
    T he night before they left she encountered Professor Gink in the corridor again. There was no one in sight, nothing to prevent him stopping a moment as he had before to enquire about the Perfesser—but he didn ’ t.
    He looked down gravely and courteously and said carefully, “ Good evening, Nurse. ”
    And Jessa said as gravely and courteously and carefully back, “ Good evening, sir. ”

 
    CHAPTER VII
    THEY took off in Matthew Flinders 3 at nine o ’ clock the next morning.
    Margaret delighted Barry by her pre-knowledge of the trip that lay before her.
    “ Crescent Island is one thousand and fifty miles away northeast, and on the Tropic of Capricorn. ”
    “ What products? ” he grinned.
    She smiled back at him. “ I know that, too. The three C ’ s — copra, conchi, coral. ”
    “ Probably tourist coral soon, founted and painted and inscribed Crescent Island, seeing we ’ re to be a holiday resort. ” Barry sighed audibly.
    “ You ’ re unhappy over that, aren ’ t you? ” Jessa had brought her to the cockpit to be introduced, then gone aft.
    “ Progress, ” Ba retorted, “ but then you would be all for progress. ”
    “ Why do you say that? ”
    “ You ’ re a nurse. That means a predilection for everything scientific, modern and go-ahead. ”
    “ Perhaps, but it also