Read Online Australian Hospital by Joyce Dingwell - Free Book Online

had been, numerous slippers and shoes.
    Eve hugged them to her as though they were very precious. Once she turned her head to Candace, and said, “As you see by my wardrobe I don’t have to work here or anywhere else. It’s just a pastime with me. I only do it because my godfather gets a thrill out of it. He’s one of Manathunka’s most valued patrons. He hates to see me doing this, but all the same he’s tremendously proud.” She held out a slip of gleaming peach satin, ran her fingers almost with worship over the smooth sheen, and smiled to herself.
    Candace transferred her bags to the room that Eve had vacated. It had the same view as the men’s ward—a green valley with a thicket of trees. She thought this quite as lovely as the view of the river.
    The room was untidy, though. The waste-paper basket overflowed; there was a suggestion of old perfume; talc had been spilled carelessly on the floor.
    Candace tidied it as much as she could without broom and duster, unpacked what things she would immediately need, then went across and tapped on the door of the room that now belonged to Eve Trisby.
    “Come in. Oh, it’s you.”
    “I was wondering about uniform, Sister.”
    Eve was now regarding her closely. She was not as satisfied at what she saw as she had been when she was standing on the steps.
    There, the girl had looked ordinary and rather mousy, and that had pleased her. Now she was discovering what many people soon discovered, that Stephen Halliday had discovered—that here was one of those women who grow more attractive on longer acquaintance.
    She noticed the clear skin, the soft hair, the eyes that did not shine so much as glow.
    She gave herself a quick look in her mirror. The brilliant contrasts of the almost-white curls and black eyes against Candace’s understatement reassured her. Her first impressions had been right. The new sister was a mouse. She decided to make her mousier still. At Manathunka the nursing aides wore neat, dull hospital stripes, but the sisters could choose their own colours, and uniforms of blue, pink, green, lilac and primrose hung in the lobby wardrobe.
    Arnold, as deputy, invariably chose blue. Eve herself could never make up her mind whether she looked more lovely in green or primrose.
    She did not care for pink. It killed her dead-white skin. It might give this girl a glow, though, whereas the pale lilac, a very insipid shade, she had always thought, would make her even mousier still.
    “The uniforms are in the lobby cupboard. Yours is the mauve.”
    “Thank you, Sister. Oh—and meals? I think I heard the bell. Could you show me the dining-room?”
    “I could, but I’m not going to. I dined in town, and I’m not hungry. You go down the stairs and”—Eve paused—“turn to the left.” She smiled slightly.
    “Thank you, Sister.”
    Candace closed the door.
    At the bottom of the flight she turned as directed. There was the sound of laughter, the clatter of dishes, the smell of food.
    A little shyly, she entered a long hall furnished with two correspondingly long tables and a large sideboard.
    The tables were almost filled, but there was space at one end, and Candace slipped quietly in.
    She soon found she had been noticed, though. A silence fell on the chattering girls, someone tittered, then one of the young aides—for obviously that was what they were—asked, “Are you the new sister?” “Yes.”
    “Then you’re in the wrong room.”
    “I was told to come here.”
    “Then someone told you wrongly. You go in the other direction—”
    “Among the elite,” put in a pert young voice.
    “Be quiet, Elaine, she didn’t know. Would you like me to show you, Sister?”
    “No, thank you, I think I’ll be able to manage. I’m terribly sorry.” Candace stepped hurriedly out.
    Her cheeks were burning. She heard the voices and laughter begin again. Did I merely make a mistake over the right and left, or did Sister Trisby misdirect me intentionally, she thought.