The Fortunes of Francesca. Бетти Нилс

sped through the quiet streets.

      ‘Where are we going?’ asked Franny.

      ‘No beds at St Thomas’s, nor Charing Cross or the Middlesex. There’s a bed at St Giles’.’

      It seemed for ever before they reached the hospital but, once there, there was speed and efficiency. Surprisingly, there were no other patients in Casualty. Having given particulars in a quiet voice, Franny was told to sit and wait while Auntie was wheeled away to a cubicle at the other end of the vast place. There was a lot of coming and going then, and she longed to know what was happening behind the curtains, but she sat still, her hands folded in her lap, staring at the wall before her, not seeing it, trying not to think.

      It was some time before a nurse came to tell her that her aunt was rallying under treatment. ‘Sister will come and speak to you in a minute. Would you like a cup of tea?’

      Franny shook her head. ‘No, thank you. It doesn’t matter if I stay?’

      ‘No, of course not. Here’s Sister coming now.’

      Sister was young and briskly kind. ‘Your aunt is improving, but until several tests have been done I can’t tell you any more. She will have to be admitted, but you would have known that. It is most fortunate that the senior consultant heart surgeon is in the hospital, seeing another patient. He’s on his way down now. If anyone can do anything for your aunt, it is he.’

      She went away again, and presently Franny heard fresh voices and then silence, except for a murmur from time to time. Please, God, let Auntie pull through, she begged silently. And she shut her mind to a future full of problems; never mind them, just as long as Auntie got better.

      Night work, thought Franny desperately. Finn would be home at least for the next few months; she could get a job, any job, which left her free during the day. She didn’t need much sleep; she could shop on the way home, settle Auntie and tidy up the house and have a sleep during the afternoon…

      Someone was coming towards her, disturbing her chaotic thoughts. It was Professor van der Kettener, looming large and calm and somehow reassuring. She sat up straight and said, ‘Hello, Professor,’ in a tired voice.

      He stood looking down at her. How this girl dogged his footsteps, he thought. As usual she was looking rather the worse for wear. It was understandable, of course, in the circumstances, and her hair, hanging down her back in a pale brown tangle, bore witness to the fact that she had dressed in a tearing hurry. But she was looking up at him with a brave, hopeful face.

      He sat down beside her. ‘Your aunt is gravely ill. She has an atrial septal defect—I’ll explain that presently. It can be put right with open heart surgery. Before that is done there are a number of tests to be carried out to confirm those which have been done now. She will be admitted into one of my beds and in due course I will operate. It is a serious operation, but she is a resolute lady, isn’t she? If all goes well I can see no reason why she shouldn’t return to a normal life.’

      He looked at her. ‘You do understand what I am saying?’

      ‘Yes, thank you. Is she to be warded now? May I see her first, before I go home?’

      ‘Certainly you may. Come with me.’

      She went with him and he held the curtains back for her as she went into the cubicle. Auntie was conscious. She looked small and very frail, but she smiled at Franny.

      ‘What a fuss and bother,’ she whispered. ‘So sorry, love.’

      ‘You’ll be comfy in bed very soon, Auntie, and you’re going to be well again. Professor van der Kettener says so. I’m going home now but I’ll be here tomorrow—in the afternoon, I expect. I’ll bring the things you’ll need with me.’

      She bent and kissed her aunt and went back through the curtains to where the professor was waiting, talking to the sister. There were porters already there, with a stretcher and trolley, and a nurse and a young doctor.

      Sister turned to look at her and said kindly, ‘Would you like a cup of tea now? Do you have far to go?’ She glanced at the clock. ‘It’s almost four o’clock. I dare say there’ll be a night bus… Or have you someone you can phone to come for you?’

      ‘I’m fine, thank you, Sister. May I come tomorrow afternoon?’

      ‘Of course. Go to Reception, and they’ll tell you where your aunt is. Have we got your phone number?’

      ‘We haven’t a phone. I’ll ring about eight o’clock.’

      Franny smiled vaguely at them both and turned away, but was brought to a halt by the professor’s firm hand.

      ‘I’m going your way; I’ll drop you off.’

      He kept his hand there while he exchanged goodbyes with Sister and had a word with the young doctor who had come across to speak to him, and only then took it away.

      Going out of the casualty entrance, Franny said uncertainly, ‘But I’m not on your way. Besides, you have been up almost all night, haven’t you? You must be tired. I can get a taxi…’

      He took her arm and trotted her across the forecourt to his parked car.

      ‘Don’t talk rubbish. Have you any money with you?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘So stop making difficulties where there are none. Get in, do!’

      She got in and he closed the door on her, got in himself and drove off through the quiet streets. It was very dark and, save for the milk floats and an occasional car, the streets were empty. In another few hours they would be teeming with traffic.

      The professor drove without speaking, but his silence didn’t bother Franny—indeed, she was glad of it. She was tired but there would be a good deal of arranging to see to. She tried her best to think sensibly about that, but she wasn’t very successful.

      Her muddled thoughts were disturbed finally by the professor.

      ‘When you get home, have a warm drink and go to bed even if it is only for an hour or so. Later on you’ll find you can think clearly again. And don’t worry too much about the future. One thing at a time. Is there anyone at home now?’

      ‘My brother.’ She needed to add to that, ‘He’s a medical student, just started.’

      ‘Good.’ They were crossing Waterloo Bridge, and in a few minutes she would be home. ‘I’ll come in with you, if I may?’

      She couldn’t think why he wanted to do that, but she was too weary and worried to think about it. She said politely, ‘I dare say you would like a cup of tea.’

      He stopped outside her home, got out and came to open her door. Finn was waiting for them on the doorstep.

      The professor nodded at him. ‘You don’t mind if I come in for a few minutes?’

      ‘No, no, of course not, sir. Franny, is Auntie OK?’

      Franny looked at the professor. ‘You tell him. I’ll put the kettle on.’

      A little later they sat, the three of them, round the kitchen table with mugs of strong tea and a packet of Rich Tea biscuits, and the professor won a lifelong devoted friend in Finn because he treated him as an equal while he explained exactly what needed to be done for Auntie. He spoke with self-assurance and cheer, promising nothing but offering hope, and Franny, listening to his quiet voice with its almost imperceptible accent, took heart. Then he paused to say, ‘Would you not like to go to your bed? I’ll be off in a few minutes.’

      He stood up and she got to her feet, wished her goodnight and thanked her for his tea.

      ‘It was very kind of you to bring me home,’ said Franny, her eyes huge in her tired face. ‘I hope you will go home to bed, too. And do drive carefully.’

      He told her gravely that he would.

      Franny tumbled into bed after