Give me another chance, the girl pleaded again, pulling a handkerchief from the small pocket of her coat and wiping her nose. The handkerchief was white, edged with a pale blue trim, and dotted with tiny flowers in the corners.
Professor Andrew Yates watched her and thought, How touching. And yet I cant stand a womans tears; they make me feel uneasy.
No hope for you now, he said. Try again next year, love. In the meantime, would you like a job as a hospital orderly? Its dirty and hard work, but youll get a glimpse of what goes on behind the doors. Imagine the spotless white coats, the gleaming instruments, the bright corridorseverything sterile and sunny. Youll walk in like a little demigod, nodding at patients who look at you with pleading eyes. Isnt that right? The professor leaned closer under the girls straw hat, stopped, and muttered, You have so many freckles, Miss Whitfield! The sun must love you, having kissed you all over. He burst out laughing, delighted by the sunkissed freckles on her skin, by the fact that his wifes birthday was that day and they would head to the country house where pike and perch swam in the pond, and by the buzzing bees in their hives that he seemed to be lecturing.
Daphne, the girl, raised her head in surprise and squinted. The professor is laughing That feels odd. Its all wrong, she thought, embarrassed before the exam board, clutching a sweaty ticket, fearing to meet anyones eyes.
Ah Im not laughing at you, Andrew said, trying to sound sincere. Miss Daphne, you are a beautiful young lady. He paused, then added, Shall we get some icecream? Its scorching today! He tugged at his collar, holding his battered briefcase under his armpit. No need for fancy restaurants or ballet tickets; just a simple scoop. Here, take these pounds, he rummaged in his coat pocket, pulling out crumpled notes. Buy one for yourself and one for me, and Ill wait for you on the bench.
Daphne frowned, shrugged, and asked quietly, What flavour would you like?
Anything, just quickly. Otherwise Ill be left with a soggy spot, and youll never become an orderly, he replied. Off you go!
He watched with pleasure as Daphnes thin legs carried her toward the icecream stall. Shes just a child at heart, he muttered, shaking his head.
Sitting on a bench with his briefcase at his feet, Andrew pulled a handkerchief from his coat. Unlike Daphnes delicate one, his was huge, patterned in a garish bluegreen check, utterly hideous. He dabbed his forehead and wiped his neck, grimacing. Its disgusting to be sweaty, tired, and old, he thought. Its repulsive to feel any greatness next to this freckled, tender girl. Not because I want to flirtno, God forbid! I love my wife more than life itself; I never look at students that way. It just hurts that life has moved on, leaving me only to admire youthful, daring people like Miss Whitfield, who seem destined for better futures than the cracked, balding men we become.
Daphne stared at him, embarrassed.
Why are you studying me? she asked. Heres the icecream, I bought you a doublecone. She handed him a paperwrapped cold treat.
And you? he snapped, looking at her empty hands. I said get two. Youre not listening! He widened his eyes, looking like the pike he planned to catch tomorrow. Nothing! Youre told what to do and you dont. You.
No! I understand! Ill get it now! she shouted, flinging her redandwhite straw hat back onto the stall, buying another cone and hurrying back. She plopped down beside his briefcase.
Eat, ordered Andrew. Then farewell. I have many things to do, including taking my wife to the cottage and hauling bundles of firewood.
Daphne dabbed the corner of her mouth with a finger, shrugged. The icecream was overly sweet and greasy, making her want a drink more than a bite.
So you dont know where youre from? he snapped, stamping his foot. Youre a drifter, arent you?
Yes, she admitted. Im staying with my aunt for now. My relatives are coming from the north later, so Ill have to leave. My aunt says the flat isnt permanent, so I must move on.
Whats your address? Andrew asked, finishing his cone.
It doesnt matter. Just give me another exam, please. Ill tell you three things, four thingsI just got confused the first time.
Stop that, the professor warned, tapping his finger. How will you work then? You might end up cutting a spleen instead of an appendix!
How could I cut the wrong organ? Daphne gasped. Its all different Want more icecream? Two more? She grabbed his arm; he jerked away, snorting.
No, thank you. I must go; my wife is waiting. He stood, bowed, and walked away down the park path without looking back. Daphne, still in her redandwhite straw hat, sighed and stayed on the bench, slipping a tiny suitcase into the nearby shrub.
Its its really over, she whispered, her freckled nose trembling. Theyll all laugh at me at home. No one believed Id study medicine
In the small market town of Littleford, split by a winding main road into the tidy terraced houses of the town side and the thatched cottages of the village side, no one believed the tiny, grasshopperlike Daphne would ever earn a medical degree and walk the local infirmary in a white coat, giving instructions to nurses all the way up to sixty.
The infirmary was a cramped threestorey building with peeling yellow paint and cracked windows. The chief physician, Dr. Nigel Finch, was a gaunt man with a reddened, swollen nose, puffy eyes, and dry, cracked lips. He rarely visited his wards, claiming he had no duty to hire fresh graduates.
Daphne decided to confront him, but she flunked both her chemistry and biology exams. It seemed not to be her destiny.
Andrew Yates disappeared from sight, while Daphne remained on the bench, holding the halfeaten icecream stick. Now I want a drink, she muttered, pulling her suitcase from the shrub, looking towards the bus stop, hoping to catch the next coach before night fell.
She dreaded walking alone after dark, haunted by the stories her chatty grandmother used to tell about goblins and spirits in the hedges. The night soundscreaking fences, rustling branches, distant rooster cries, barking dogsmade her shiver under the covers. Even the snoring of her grandfather in the next room, his muttered curses, strangely soothed her.
Her grandfather had since passed from pneumonia, and Dr. Finch still prescribed his old, ineffective tinctures. The familys grief was palpable as they watched his oncewrinkled face smooth out in death.
A nurse, Mrs. Tamara Hargreaves, muttered, He finally gave up. The dark lane from the station to her home remained littered with overgrown hedges and abandoned brick houses, rumored to house all sorts of mischief.
A young man named Victor, a regular on the train platform, spotted Daphnes suitcase and hurried over. What are you doing here? he asked, surprised.
You didnt think Id get in, did you? she retorted, demanding he hand over the suitcase.
Calm down, love, Victor replied, Ive been cheering for you. I even called your aunt to say you were coming back. Are you upset?
She lunged at him, and after a brief, clumsy hug, she pressed her cheek to his chest and wept, halflaughing, halfcrying. Victor finally kissed her, an awkward but sincere peck, after three years of watching her leave the station.
It’s odd and messy, but Im glad youre back, Victor whispered. If you had stayed, I would have come to you.
Daphne nodded, feeling a strange calm settle over her.
Later, Professor Yates, now a little older and still slightly dishevelled, rummaged through a stack of admission lists, muttering names: Kerr, Carver, Whitfield Ah, the Whitfields. ThenJohnson, Clarke, Bennett
Are you looking for someone specific? asked the admissions clerk, Miss Nadia Greene, wiping her glasses with a bluebordered handkerchief similar to Daphnes.
Wheres that handkerchief? Andrew demanded.
Its from the market. I liked the blue one better, Nadia replied, tucking the cloth into her bag.
Nothing! I need Miss Daphne Whitfield. Shes the applicant Im after.
Nadia, now slightly pregnant, shrugged and bit into an apple, a nervous habit. She didnt turn up. Ive been on the phone with my wife, Tessa, all day. Im exhausted.
Andrew sighed, She had a dream, a calling, and she didnt show. I even begged the dean for a special place, but they refused. Now the seats are full.
A senior lecturer, Dr. Felicity Fawcett, laughed, Not everyone gets lucky.
Andrew stormed out, heading back to the icecream trolley, buying a cone and sitting on the bench, chewing thoughtfully.
He thought, Why do I remember her above all the other failures? She offered nothing in returnjust a promise to study well. That honesty stays with me.
Meanwhile, his wife, Tessa, and their friends were barbecuing on the weekend, singing folk songs, and reading magazines on the patio.
Suddenly, Andrew clutched his chest, his face turning pale. Everyone rushed to his side, checking his pulse, shouting for a doctor. Their car sped toward the village infirmary, a drab threestorey building with yellowgreen mould on the walls.
Inside, a caretaker shouted, We need a doctor, now!
Dr. Finch staggered in, smelling of cheap whisky, and barked, Stop shouting! Youll give yourself a headache.
Andrew, lying in a cold ward, heard his own voice whisper, Tessa Tessa He tried to reach for her hand but could not move.
A nurse in a blue coat entered, gently lifting his head. Water, please, she said, offering a glass.
Whitfield? You? Andrew asked, bewildered.
Yes, Im Miss Whitfield. Ive been looking for you for two years. I promised Id return, and I have. Ive become a ward orderly, just as you suggested, and Ive learned a great deal.
He sputtered, What can I learn here? Its terrible!
She replied, Its terrible, thats why I want to become a doctor and change things.
Andrew, with a bitter smile, muttered, Or youll end up like our chief, a broken man.
She laughed, I once thought the same, but now I see theres hope if we keep trying.
The nurse added, Well fix this place, one step at a time.
Andrew, his breath shallow, managed a weak chuckle.
Outside, the night gave way to dawn, the infirmarys windows letting in the pale light.
As the sun rose, Andrew reflected on his life: I spent years chasing prestige, ignoring simple kindness. Daphnes perseverance, Victors loyalty, and the humble work of the nurses taught me that true worth lies in caring for others, not in titles.
He closed his eyes, feeling peace.
The lesson lingered for all who heard it: lifes value is measured not by the grandeur of ones position, but by the sincerity of ones deeds and the compassion one offers to those around them.
