Give me another chance, the girl pleaded again, pulling a tiny handkerchief from the inner pocket of her coat and wiping her nose with it. The handkerchief was white, edged with a pale blue trim and dotted with tiny flowers at the corners.
I thought to myself, *How touching* and then, *Ah, she must think Im softhearted, that I cant stand a womans tears.*
No luck today, I said. Maybe try again next year, love. In the meantime, how about I get you a spot as a hospital orderly? The works grim and hard, but youll get a proper look at what goes on behind those white doors. I glanced over the courtyard of the college, full of students, and added, Imagine the crisp white coats, the gleaming tools, the spotless corridors, the sun streaming in youd be like a little demigod, nodding to patients who look at you with pleading, humbled eyes. Right? I slipped my hand under the girls small straw hat and lingered a moment. Youve got a face full of freckles, Miss Daisy! The sun must love you, has kissed you all over.
A laugh burst out of me. The freckles on her cheek seemed to glow, the sun itself must have been smothering her in kisses. I thought of my wifes birthday, the country house wed be heading to, where pike and perch darted in the pond, a cheeky pike snapping at anything that moved. Bees hummed angrily in their hives, and I imagined talking to them as if they were old schoolmates.
Daisy looked up, squinting. Professor, youre laughing thats odd. It feels all wrong. She had prepared for the exam, but now she was trembling, clutching her ticket, too scared to meet the boards eyes.
Im not mocking you, I said, softening. Youre a lovely young lady, Daisy. I tried to inject some levity. How about an ice cream? Its sweltering out here. I tugged at my shirt collar, the worn leather briefcase under my arm. Dont think Im taking you to a fancy restaurantjust a simple ice cream. I fished a few crumpled notes from the pocket of my tweed jacket. Take some money, go and buy us both an ice lolly. Ill wait for you on the bench over there. I gestured vaguely.
She raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and asked, What flavour?
Whatever you like, and hurry, I replied. Otherwise Ill be left with a soggy spot and no order for you as an orderly.
I watched her shuffle over to the stall with her thin, trembling legs. What a sweetheart, shes still a child at heart! I muttered, shaking my head.
Sitting on the bench, I pulled out another handkerchief from my coata massive, gaudy bluegreen checked one that looked halffinished. I dabbed my forehead, wiped my neck, and grimaced. Disgusting, I thought, to be sweaty, tired, old. The sight of that freckled, delicate girl made my stomach knot, not because I wanted to flirt, but because I felt a pang of oldfashioned propriety. I loved my wife more than life itself; I never ogled students. I simply pitied the way time had slipped past me, leaving me to watch the bright, brave lives of youngsters like Daisy, full of stubborn confidence.
She handed me a wrapped ice cream. Here, I got a vanilla one for you.
What about you? I snapped, annoyed at her empty hands. I said get two. She looked bewildered, then scurried back to the stall, bought another, and plopped down beside my briefcase.
Eat, I instructed. Then well be done. I have a lot to doload the car for my wifes weekend at the cottage, haul the luggage, the usual.
She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a finger, shrugged. The ice cream tasted too sweet, overly rich, more like a drink than a treat.
Its not your fault youre lost, is it? I muttered, tapping my foot. Where do you think you belong?
Im staying with my aunt for now, she replied. Familys coming from the north, so Ill have to move soon. The flat isnt permanent.
Homeward then? I asked, chewing thoughtfully. Tell me where you live, where you came from.
She waved it off. Just take me in for another exam, please. Im begging.
I snapped a finger at her. You cant just have a jumble of thoughts in your head and expect to be a surgeon. What will you do when you actually start work? Cut out a spleen instead of an appendix? Absurd!
She stared, eyes wide. Can you give me another ice cream? Two, maybe? She grabbed my arm; I jerked away, huffing.
No, I wont. And I suggest you stop. I turned and walked away down the park path without a glance back. The girl in the redandwhite straw hat sighed miserably and stayed seated, tucking a tiny suitcase into the shrubbery nearby.
Its all its really all over, she whispered, her freckled nose trembling. Theyll laugh at me at home. No one believed Id become a doctor.
In Redford, a modest market town split by the winding A46 into a row of brick terraces and thatched cottages with cheerful gables, nobody believed a wiry girl like Daisy could ever graduate from medical school and stroll through the local hospital in a crisp white coat, giving orders to nurses who were nearing their sixties. The college nurses ran about with no proper tools, old windows, and even the senior doctor, Mr. Nigel Finch, clung to the notion that alcohol sponges cured everything. He was a grotesque figure: flushed cheeks, a blueveined nose, swollen eyes, dry cracked lips. He rarely left his office, refusing to take on anyone modern and always in a sour mood.
Daisy had tried to get into his department, but failed every subjectphysics, biology, geneticsher fate seemed sealed.
I slipped away, leaving her on the bench, still clutching her icecream stick. Now Im thirsty, she mumbled, pulling the suitcase from the shrub, glancing around, and heading for the bus stop. She feared walking home after dark; every bush seemed haunted by the stories her chatty grandmother told of goblins and spirits. She shivered, listening to creaks, the snap of twigs, the distant cluck of chickens, a cock crowing at dawn, dogs barking in alleyways. The house beyond the garden door roared with her grandfathers snoring, a wheezing, rumbling sound that oddly soothed her. Who would bother a house with that old man sleeping? she thought, and finally fell asleep.
Her grandfather had since died of pneumonia, never saved by Mr. Finchs dubious remedies. The nurse Tamara, a nononsense woman, muttered, Hes gone The dark lane from the station to the cottage remained the sameovergrown hedges, abandoned brick houses full of whispers.
A lanky lad named Tom appeared, bent over the suitcase, and helped her lift it. She started to scream, but recognized him. Tom! You didnt think Id get in, did you? she shouted, demanding the case back. He grunted, Ive been rooting for you, love. I even shouted at you when you were about to quit. He tried to hug her; she flinched, then collapsed into his arms, sobbing like a child. He kissed her, clumsy but earnest, after three years of watching her from the platform.
She wiped her eyes, and he whispered, Its odd, but Im glad youre back.
I, Andrew Hughes, the aging professor, was later seen rummaging through the admissions list for the new intake. Keen, Carter, Carstairs Oh, bless the names. I muttered, tapping my thin fingers over the columns.
Do you need something specific? asked Nadine, the clerk, adjusting her glasses and wiping her nose with a fresh white handkerchief edged in blue.
Wheres the handkerchief you swore youd bought at the market? I barked.
She blushed, pulling the tiny cloth from her bag. I bought it there, there were yellow ones too, but this one suits me.
Nothing! Keep your head down, Nadine. I need a particular applicantDaisy Whitfield. Shes the one Im after. Where is she?
Nadine, now slightly pregnant, shrugged and bit into an appleshe always chewed when nervous. She never showed up. Ive been nagging the dean, begging for a place for her outside the normal competition. He refused, said there were no slots. Ive ruffled a lot of feathers, and she still didnt come.
Behind me, Dr. Fiona Fadey, a sharptongued senior lecturer, laughed. Not everyone gets lucky, love.
I snapped my fingers, Im not looking for protégés! I stalked out toward the icecream cart, bought a doublescoop vanilla, and sat back on the bench, chewing thoughtfully.
I mused, She stuck in my mind because she gave nothing in returnjust a promise to study hard. Pure and naïve.
Later that evening, my wife Tess, radiant and cheerful, stood on the veranda of our cottage, chatting with neighbours about barbecues, football, and the latest fishing tales. The sky darkened suddenly; I clutched my chest, felt the world tilt. Tess grabbed my hand, her voice trembling, Andrew, whats happening? Speak!
Our driver, Ian, shouted, Theres a fuel tanker overturned on the road! You cant get through! A grizzled old man on the roadside cursed, They closed the lane for the tanker, no one gets past! We were forced to take a detour to the tiny Redford Community Hospital, a threestorey brick building with yellowstained walls and peeling plaster.
Inside, I was wheeled into a bleak, cold ward as dawn barely leaked through the grimy windows. I tried to reach for Tesss hand, but my limbs wouldnt obey; I groaned and closed my eyes.
A nurse in a blue coat and a knitted headscarf entered, adjusting her gown. She placed a glass of water near my cheek. Water, sir? she asked.
I stared at her, my freckled nose trembling. Mister Whitfield? she repeated, bewildered. I managed a weak nod. Im Andrew Hughes. Dont worry; Dr. Finch says theres no heart attacksomething else, but you must stay calm. She helped me sip.
I tried to speak, Wheres Daisy? Ive been looking for her for two years. How could she?
She placed a gentle finger over my lips. Shh, youll scare her away. She explained shed become a hospital cleaner after my suggestion, learning a lot, and now she planned to return as a doctor. Ill go get her, she promised.
I, still halfconscious, muttered, Shell change everything here, wont she? This rotten placemould, drafts, no proper care.
She sighed, Thats why I want to be a surgeon. To fix it.
I chuckled, Or youll end up like Dr. Finch, a walking nightmare.
She smiled, I used to think the same, Professor Hughes. She adjusted my pillow, tucked a blanket over me.
Break it down, this place, I growled, thumping the blanket. No proper ventilation, no decent equipment!
Tess, hearing the commotion, hurried over, Andrew, calm down! You cant shout like that.
I softened, You look like a wizard with a beard, Tamara, you could’ve been a sorcerer.
A lanky figure enteredColin, a gaunt, shaggyhaired man, his white coat now greyyellow, a sign of years spent in this ward.
Colin, old chap, I said, surprised. What happened to you? Did you give up?
He laughed hollowly, I fought, tried to help, but theres never enough medicine, no supplies. Ive watched younger folk come, only to see them leave, too. Now Im one of the few who stays. He glanced at Daisys name on the board, Shell be a good one; youll have to teach her well.
I nodded, Teach her, yes. Well all have to fight, write letters, beg for help.
Colin sighed, Patience, love. Rest now, the pulses still racing.
Later, I drifted into a halfdream, hearing the wards door creak open. A woman in a navy coat and a scarf stepped in, her figure slender. She set a glass of water on the bedside table. Mrs. Whitfield? she asked, surprised. I nodded, my nose still freckled. She smiled, Im Daisy Whitfield. Ive been looking for you, Professor. I was told you were searching for me. I came back, married Tom, we have a boy, Samuel. I worked as a cleaner as you suggested, learned a lot, and now Ill apply again, for real this time.
I tried to protest, But she placed a finger to my lips, No more words. She adjusted the blanket, tucked the sheet tighter, and left.
I watched her go, feeling a mix of pride and melancholy. The wards air was stale, the walls cracked, but perhaps, with Daisys fire, something would change.
Tamara, the night nurse, called out, Doctor Hughes, breakfasts ready! I groaned, Fine, lets go. I shuffled to the kitchen, thinking of pike in the pond, of my wifes birthday, of the summer wed spend at the cottage, and of a girl named Daisy who might one day walk these halls in a proper white coat.
And thats where my story endsfor now.
