A Girl Named Rose. Betty Neels

she was able to see around her. She longed to ask what this was and that was, but her companion, beyond making sure that she was comfortable, had little to say. Only as they slowed to go through the lighted outskirts of Amsterdam, did he observe, “A very restful travelling companion—no girlish exclamations of delight, no endless questions about windmills and clogs, no demands to know when we should arrive. I must congratulate you, Nurse Comely.”

      To which she made no reply at all.

      Once through the suburbs, the city took on the enchantment she had remembered from her brief visit. The sky was clear and starlit, silhouetting the gabled houses against the deep blue above, and once they were away from the main streets, there were only the street lamps reflected in the canal water.

      She hadn’t asked where they were going; she hoped just for a moment that they would go to his house first, but she was to be disappointed. They left the quiet old streets presently and turned back into the main part of the city. A short cut, she guessed, and knew that she was right when they turned into a wide courtyard with the hospital, quite unmistakable, beyond. Mr Werdmer ter Sane switched off the engine. “Well, here we are,” he observed quietly, and got out to open her door and usher her through the wide entrance.

      There was no waiting about; he lifted a hand to the porter on duty and led the way to a row of lifts. They got out on the second floor and Rose followed silently as he trod unhurriedly a long wide corridor and through swing doors.

      It was very quiet; there were wards on either side, their doors open and night lights burning and the shadowy figures of nurses going to and fro. Mr Werdmer ter Sane tapped on a door at the end of the corridor and went in.

      There was a cot in the room, barely visible in the dim light, surrounded by all the impedimenta of post-operative equipment. Sitting side by side in chairs drawn up to the cot were two people. They turned their heads as Rose and Mr Werdmer ter Sane went in and the man got up. He was a big man, heavily built and tall, and he looked tired and very anxious.

      “Sybren—you’ve made good time.” He looked at Rose and smiled. He was good-looking and his eyes were very blue. “And this will be our English nurse.” He put out his hand and then he put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Chrissy, now you will be able to sleep.”

      The girl took her eyes from the small figure in the cot. Mrs ter Brandt wasn’t pretty, but her eyes were a lovely grey in a white face. She smiled at Rose.

      “Thank you for coming.” She got up and offered a hand. “You’re from St Bride’s, aren’t you? The best nurse they have got, Sybren says. Little Duert will be all right now.”

      Rose said comfortingly, “I’m sure he will and I promise you I’ll look after him, Mevrouw ter Brandt.”

      The two men had turned aside to talk but presently Doctor ter Brandt said, “We’re going home now, darling— Sybren will take a look at Duert and explain things to…” He glanced over to Rose. “May I call you Rose? She will come on duty in the morning and you can phone her then and come and see Duert later in the day. And I promise you we won’t pull any wool over your eyes, darling.”

      Rose saw the look which passed between them; loving and trusting and very understanding. It must be awful, she thought, as she wished them a calm good night.

      Mr Werdmer ter Sane closed the door. “Now, before we find Night Sister and get you settled, let us go over the notes…” He gave her a sharp glance. “You are not too tired? There will be a meal for you presently, but this is too good an opportunity to miss.”

      He went and looked at the unconscious child, examining him gently. “He’s no worse, but he’s by no means out of the wood. I want every smallest change noted and I want to be told at once. I’ll give you a phone number and you are to ring me without waiting to report to the ward sister. Tell her, of course, but I want to know first. You understand?”

      Rose nodded. She was tired and hungry but since Mr Werdmer ter Sane didn’t appear to be either, she supposed she would have to forget that for the time being. He began to go over the case papers with her in great detail, and when he had finished, “You understand all that, Nurse? Have you any questions?”

      “No, not at present,” she told him and he turned to ring the bell by the cot. “Night Nurse,” he told her, “while Duert and Christina are here she isn’t needed.”

      The girl who came in quietly was big and fair-haired and pretty. She said something to Mr Werdmer ter Sane and smiled at Rose, who said “Hullo”, and offered a hand.

      “Wiebeke—Rose,” he said briefly. He went on in Dutch so that Rose couldn’t understand but when he had finished he said, “I was telling Wiebeke that you will be on duty at seven o’clock in the morning. She speaks English but if you have any hang-ups for heaven’s sake give me a ring.” He turned back to the night nurse, saying over his shoulder, “Wait a minute, will you? I’ll introduce you to Night Sister.”

      It was five minutes before he had talked to Wiebeke and taken another look at the child. Rose said good night to the other girl and followed him back the way they had come and into a small office. Night Sister was a large bony woman with a calm, middle-aged face. She got up from the desk as they went in, smiled at them both and asked in English, “This is our English nurse?” She shook hands and listened while Mr Werdmer ter Sane talked and then said, “We will go at once to the hostel, you must be tired, and tomorrow morning at seven o’clock we will see you here on duty. We are glad to welcome you, Nurse Comely.”

      She glanced towards their companion. “You are going home, Doctor?”

      “No, not just yet. I’ll wish you good night.” He nodded to them both and walked back the way they had come.

      “He is anxious,” explained Night Sister, “he is—how do you say?—godfather to the little Duert. We go this way.”

      Rose hardly noticed where they were going; she was famished and wanted a bed and a bath more than anything else in the world. It was several floors down and any number of passages before they went through a door and up more stairs leading to silent corridors lined with doors. Night Sister opened one. “Your room, Zuster Comely.”

      Rose went past her into a small, nicely furnished room, very clean and bright. “I’m not a sister,” she said shyly. “Only a staff nurse.”

      Night Sister laughed. “Ah, but here we call all nurses ‘Zuster’ and the sister is ‘Hoofdzuster’. The bathroom is at the end of this passage, there are six—but first someone will be coming very soon with your supper. And in the morning a nurse will show you where to go. You will be called at six o’clock.” She smiled again. “I hope you will be happy with us. Good night.”

      Left to herself, Rose unpacked and then since her supper hadn’t arrived, undressed and got into her dressing-gown. She was brushing her hair when there was a tap on the door and a young woman came in with a tray. She nodded and smiled and put the tray on the writing-desk under the window and when Rose asked, “What shall I do with the tray?” giggled gently, shrugged her shoulders and went away.

      The supper was all that she could have wished for: soup and savoury pancakes and a bowl of yoghurt and a jug of piping-hot coffee. Rose disposed of everything and crept down to the bathroom past the silent rooms. The water was hot and she lay for a while going over the events of the day, then mindful of the early start in the morning she got out reluctantly and presently was back in her room. A rather nice room, she thought drowsily, putting out the bedside light.

      It seemed that she had only just shut her eyes when she was being gently shaken awake. A girl was bending over her and she sat up in bed, not sure where she was for the moment. The girl smiled. “You get up,” she said, and “I fetch you.” At the door she paused, clutching her dressing-gown about her. “Okay?”

      “Okay,” said Rose and jumped out of bed.

      She was fetched by a whole bunch of girls who shook hands in a friendly fashion and exclaimed over the old fashioned uniform St Bride’s nurses still wore. They bore her along with