Never While the Grass Grows. Betty Neels

on Saturday and you are to report for duty on Friday, you will be told when and where,’ rather took her breath.

      ‘I will arrange for you to leave your duties here on Tuesday evening, Sister. That will give you two days in which to prepare yourself.’ Miss Bellamy smiled very faintly and when Octavia said: ‘Yes, Miss Bellamy,’ in a suitably meek voice, dismissed her graciously.

      Once on the other side of the door, Octavia took to her heels. No nurse, and certainly no Sister, ran in corridors or wards unless there was fire or haemorrhage, but for once she forgot rules. She nipped up staircases and down passages at a splendid speed until she reached the Sisters’ sitting room once more. They were all still there; Octavia closed the door behind her with a flourish and cried: ‘Guess what?’

      Everyone turned to look at her as she went on: ‘I’m to stand in for Suzy on the Socrates…’

      There was an immediate outburst of surprised voices as she went to perch on the arm of a chair. ‘It’s true,’ she assured them, ‘as I was passing the Consultants’ room…’ she plunged into her story.

      Sister Moody took the news sourly and so, for that matter, did John Waring. Octavia’s conciliatory: ‘But it’s only for two weeks,’ was useless in the face of his unexpected annoyance, almost as though he had made up his mind that she was going away to spite him. She felt bewildered by it, because they had been good friends but never anything more, and her lack of conceit didn’t allow of her realising that he was considered something of a celebrity in the doctors’ quarters because he had been dating the beautiful Sister Lock for quite some time. She told him briskly not to behave like a crusty old man and was glad for once when their snatched conversation was brought to a close by the ambulance siren.

      She had spent a wakeful hour or two during the night laying her plans; she would have to do some shopping; Mr Yates had been right when he had said that she would know what to take—well, of course she would; any girl would, but it hadn’t entered his learned head that perhaps she hadn’t a wardrobe geared to take two weeks on a cruise ship in its stride. She wouldn’t need much, for she was sensible enough to know that shore leave would be on a rota system and probably brief, but lying in bed mentally surveying the summer clothes she hadn’t expected to wear again that year, she had come to the conclusion that they would require one or two additions. Cotton dresses and perhaps, although she was doubtful about this, a new evening dress. She should have asked about meals on board; did the nurses eat with the passengers or on their own? and surely if they did eat with everyone else, they would have to dress as they did? No one, she concluded, would want to eat his dinner opposite or beside a uniformed nurse. She closed her eyes, glad that she had decided what to do, and had then opened them again to review, hazily, her bank balance. There would be enough. She closed her eyes again and went to sleep.

      Monday and Tuesday slid past at a great rate, she went off duty on Tuesday evening, late and tired and grumpy because Sister Moody had meanly taken an evening for herself and left her to work until nine o’clock, but late though it was there was something she had to do. She went first to Men’s Medical and found Charlie still awake.

      ‘Jist the gal I wanted,’ he told her perkily. ‘I’m going the day arter termorrer. Got a job, jist like yer said.’

      Octavia settled silently on to the bed. ‘Tell me about it,’ she whispered. ‘Is it in London? I hope it’s not heavy work…’

      He grinned at her, showing terrible teeth. ‘Don’t yer fret, lady—it’s a real good job, ’andyman in a big ’ouse. I ’ain’t seen the boss yet, only some gent ’o’s acting for ’im. A real gent, too, coming ter fetch me an’ all…’

      Octavia frowned, ‘Yes, but Charlie, you ought to know something about it first…’

      ‘Not ter worry, Sister. Doctor Toms, ’e says ’e knows the boss personal and ’e’s a real bloke.’

      She looked at Charlie’s face; it would never be youthful again, but at least it had filled out nicely and his eyes were bright and hopeful. She smiled and asked: ‘How much are they going to give you?’

      Charlie told her and he grinned again, as his bony frame seemed to swell with pride.

      ‘Smashing, Charlie, the best of luck. I’m going away for a couple of weeks, but do let me know how you get on.’

      They shook hands like old friends and Octavia slipped from the darkened ward and made her way to Women’s Surgical; there was still Mrs Stubbs to say goodbye to.

      That lady was sitting up in bed, her bedside light on, her spectacles on her nose, mending a pair of tights. ‘That poor young nurse,’ she explained, ‘comes on duty and trips against one of those nasty trolleys and ruins her tights; I’m just catching the ladder before it gets too bad.’ She chuckled gently. ‘Night Sister won’t be round for another half an hour.’

      ‘Well, it’s splendid to see you looking so fit, Mrs Stubbs. When are you going to your new job, and where is it?’

      ‘Day after tomorrow, love, ’elping the ’ousekeeper, that’s what I’m going ter do. The gent what’s engaged me ’as several ’omes, so I don’t rightly know where I’ll be. That nice Mr Yates knows him, so I’m ever so ’appy. It’s an ill wind that don’t blow no one no good. I’ve been ever so ’appy ’ere, but it’ll be nice to be doing something again.’ She snipped a thread and glanced at Octavia. ‘And you’re off late? ’Ad a busy day, I’ll be bound.’

      ‘Well, so-so. I’m going away for a couple of weeks, so I’ll say goodbye, Mrs Stubbs, but I hope I’ll see you again; you must come and see us all, you know, once you’re settled in.’ She held out her hand and bent to kiss the elderly cheek. ‘I’m so glad everything’s turned out so well for you and I hope you’ll love your job—whoever gets you is jolly lucky.’

      And that was true, she thought, as she made her way to the Nurses’ Home. Nowadays, nice cosy little women like Mrs Stubbs were few and far between, and she would be handy to have about the house, mending and ironing and doing a little plain cooking and baby-sitting on the side. Octavia wondered fleetingly if the family she was going to was a large one. She had forgotten to ask, not that Mrs Stubbs seemed to know much about it—nor had Charlie for that matter. It seemed strange, but then if Mr Yates and Doctor Toms vouched for them… She opened the sitting room door and went in to cries of: ‘There you are—where have you been? It’s half past nine… We saved some tea… Have you done your packing?’

      She had decided to go home on Thursday afternoon and shop before she went; it seemed strange to hear everyone trooping off to breakfast the next morning and know that she was free to lie in bed if she wanted to. Not that she had the time for that; she bathed and dressed and got herself a sketchy meal in the little pantry at the end of the corridor and hurried out. Fenwick’s, she had decided, or perhaps Wallis’s, or even Dickins and Jones.

      She spent a busy morning and an even busier afternoon; the shops were full of autumn clothes and cotton dresses were hard to find. The departments selling cruise clothes had plenty but at prices which hardly seemed justifiable for the brief hours she expected to spend off duty. She found two finally; not quite what she wanted, but she was clever with her needle and there would be time to alter them to suit herself. The evening dress was a good deal easier to find, indeed, the choice was so wide that she found it difficult to choose. She settled finally for a pastel patterned organza, very plainly cut and costing a good deal more than she had intended to pay, so that by way of righting this, she purchased a pair of gold sandals, flimsy things with high heels; it was only when she got back with them that she found herself wondering if they weren’t quite practical for on board ship. ‘But who wants to be practical?’ she asked herself out loud. Probably she would spend most of her day in sensible lace-ups and a uniform.

      She tried on the new outfits that evening before an audience of most of her friends, and everyone agreed that the sandals had been an absolute must with the new dress; such an expensive garment would have been ruined with anything less—besides, one might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. Octavia went to bed pleased