Give me another chance, the girl pleads again, pulling a handkerchief from the tiny pocket of her coat and quickly wiping her nose. The handkerchief is white with a pale blue trim and tiny flowers in the corners.
Andrew thinks, How touching. I cant stand seeing a girl cry, I dont like it at all.
None of that, he says. Try again next year, love, but for now, would you like me to get you a position as a ward assistant in the hospital? The work is dirty and hard, but at least youll see what its like from the inside, where you want to be. He scans the courtyard of the nursing school, full of students, and continues, You picture a spotless white coat, shiny instruments, bright corridors, everything sterile and sunny, and you walk in like a demigod, nodding to patients who look at you with pleading, humbled eyes. Right?
He leans closer under the girls straw hat, pauses, and remarks, Youve got so many freckles, Daisy! The sunshine must love you, its kissed you all over.
A laugh bubbles up. The sight of those lightcopper freckles on her skin, the way the sun seems to douse Daisy in its warmth, his wifes birthday today, the plan to go to the country house where pike and perch swim and a toothy, swift pike darts about, and the bees in their hives buzz angrily while Andrew chats with them, teaching them a thing or two all of that makes him feel lighthearted.
Daisy raises her head, squints. The professor is laughing Thats odd. It feels wrong, improper! I prepared so much and now Ive messed everything up, Im trembling before the board, my ticket crumpled in sweaty hands, I cant even look up. What a mess
Uh Im not laughing at you, Andrew says earnestly. Daisy, youre a very beautiful young lady. He pauses, then adds, How about an icecream? I cant its scorching hot! He pulls his shirt collar up, clutching his battered satchel under his armpit. Dont get fancy! Im not taking you to a restaurant or a ballet, just for icecream. He digs into the pocket of his woollen coat, pulls out a crumpled handful of notes. Heres some money go buy one for yourself and one for me. Ill wait for you on the bench over there. He waves toward a wooden bench.
Daisy squints, shrugs. What flavour do you want? she asks softly.
Anything, but quickly. If you dawdle, Ill be left with a soggy spot, and that wont get you the ward job, love. Hurry, Daisy! He watches, amused, as Daisy darts over with her thin, delicate legs toward the icecream stall.
What a proper girl, like a child! he mutters, shaking his head. How did someone like her end up on my radar?
He sits on the bench, places his satchel beside him, and pulls a handkerchief from his coat pocket. Unlike Daisys, its huge, patterned in a garish bluegreen check, downright hideous. He wipes his forehead and then his neck, grimacing. Disgusting! Its awful to be sweaty, tired, and old. Its awful to feel grand next to this freckled, tender girl. Not because I want to flirt no! God help me! I love my wife more than my life; I never stare at students. It just hurts that life has passed me by, leaving me only to watch the bright, bold, stubborn Daisy, who seems to have the whole future ahead of her while Im left here, balding and worn out.
Andrew continues to stare at Daisy, who looks away, embarrassed.
Why are you studying me so closely? he asks. Heres your icecream, I got you a scoop of vanilla. She hands him a paperwrapped block.
What about you? he asks, irritated at her empty hands. I told you to get two. Now youre not listening! Whats next? Ill tell you! He widens his eyes, looking like the pike he plans to catch tomorrow in the village pond. Nothing! Youre told what to do and you dont do it! You hear instructions and ignore them! You
No! I understand! Im doing it now! she cries, snapping the whiteandred straw back to the stall, buying a second scoop, and hurrying back. She flops onto the bench beside his satchel.
Eat, orders Andrew. Then goodbye. I have a lot to do I still need to load my wifes things for the country house, carry bundles, haul crates. Eat, eat! Where are you going now?
Daisy wipes a corner of her mouth with a fingertip, shrugs. The icecream is overly sweet, cloyingly fatty, making you want a drink more than a bite.
So you dont know where youre headed? he snaps, kicking his foot. Youre wandering somewhere, arent you? He worries that shes homeless again.
Daisy thinks, If he had a beard, hed look like an old wizard.
Im staying with my aunt for now, she admits. But her relatives are coming from up north today, so Ill have to leave. Its not a rubberflat apartment. Aunt Lena had warned her, Daisy, youve got a conscience, the flat isnt endless. If you dont move, youll be stuck.
Going home then? Andrew asks, finishing his icecream. Where do you live? How did you get here?
It doesnt matter. Just take me in, will you? Give me another exam, please! I can retell three tickets, four, I just got panicked and mixed everything up
Stop that. You cant have your head tangled like that, love. How will you work then? Youd cut out a spleen instead of an appendix! he threatens with a finger. Its impossible!
How could you cut one thing instead of another? Daisy exclaims. Its different Want more icecream? Two? She grabs his hand; he jerks away, huffing.
No, I dont want it and I wouldnt advise you to overindulge. Go away, Daisy Krasinski. I must leave; my wife is waiting. Come back next year, thats all. He stands, bows, and walks down the park lane without looking back. Daisy, in her whiteandred straw hat, sighs dejectedly and stays on the bench, tucking a tiny suitcase into the bushes as if it were a toy.
Its its really over, she sobs, her freckled nose trembling, hands folded on her knees. Theyll laugh at home. No one believed Id study to be a doctor
In the modest village of AshfordbytheFens, split by a winding main road into a row of tidy terraced houses and older cottages with cheerful gable ends and rooster weathervanes, no one truly believed that tiny Daisy, as spry as a grasshopper, would ever finish medical school and stroll through the local infirmary in a white coat, giving orders to nurses, the oldest of whom is now approaching sixty.
The younger staff at Ashford Hospital run around without looking back. There are no proper instruments, no decent windows; even the winter shutters are patched with old stockings, and the chief medical officer, Nigel Finch, seems convinced that alcohol rubs will cure anything. Consequently, the stock of antiseptic evaporates quickly, and Finch, a redcheeked, swollen man with blue veins on his nose, a puffy face, dark bags under his eyes, and dry lips, rarely leaves his office, doesnt consider himself responsible, and refuses to hire fresh, modern doctors, always in a sour mood. Daisy plans to confront him, but she fails her biology and genetics exams clearly not meant to be.
Andrew has already disappeared from sight, while Daisy remains on the bench, still holding the icecream stick.
Now I just want a drink she mumbles, pulls the suitcase from the bushes, looks around, and heads for the bus stop, hoping to catch the next train before night falls.
She fears walking alone at dusk, startled by every shrub, convinced ghosts and spirits linger a legacy of her chatty grandmother who used to scare her with tales of demons and goblins. Little Daisy shivers, listening to night sounds: a fence board creaking, a branch snapping, an apple thudding to the ground, chickens clucking, a rooster crowing at dawn, dogs barking from an alley, while her grandfathers snoring rattles through the house. The snoring somehow calms her. Who would dare enter our home with that old man sleeping? she thinks, finally drifting off.
Now her grandfather is gone, having succumbed to pneumonia. Nigel Finch still prescribes his endless alcohol rubs. The old mans face smooths out, his hands relax, the blanket folds neatly.
The end of it all, mutters the ward matron, Tamara Evans, passing by. Hes exhausted
The dark road from the station to the house remains the same: brambles, trees, abandoned brick cottages that probably house all sorts of mischief. A tiny figure drags her suitcase, sobbing. Why did Andrew not believe her? She could have succeeded, become the best of all.
Didnt get enough points, love. Happens. Come back next year! Andrew seems to think in his head. Why cling to him? She trusted him for no reason, now its clear she was wrong.
A lanky lad, Vicky, catches up, steps beside her, leans down, and grabs the suitcase. Daisy flinches, then recognises him its Victor.
What are you doing here? Guarding? she snaps. You didnt believe Id get in, did you? Hand it over, Ill carry it myself!
Calm down, love! Victor grumbles. Ive always had your back, you know? Aunt Lena called, said you were coming back, so I came to meet you. Upset?
He stops, Daisy rushes into his arms, clings to him, then pulls his thin hands to her cheek and cries, childlike and bitter.
Finally Victor kisses her. Hed been waiting at the station, nearly ready to leave, but now he leans in, their lips meet awkwardly, like two fledglings pecking. Daisy pauses, then leans back, his mouth forming a little pipe as they part.
This is odd, but Im glad youre back, Victor whispers, after the kiss, If youd stayed, I would have visited you, for sure. Daisy nods. All is well, though she still feels sorry for her grandfathers lost dream.
A gust of wind rattles a sparrow against the window; Andrew, now a little older, still in his woollen coat, pulls a list of applicants from Nadines hands, flipping through frantically.
Alright! Karney, Carver, Carlington Oh dear, what a surname Next: Kersey, Kepler, Koon, Kettle, Kirkby He runs his bony finger over the columns, frowning.
What are you looking for? Nadine asks, removing her glasses, breathing on the lenses, wiping them with a white handkerchief edged in blue with tiny flowers.
Where did you get that? the professor demands.
From the market. There were yellowflower ones too, but I prefer this. She hides the kerchief in her bag, blushing.
Nothing! Andrew snaps. Kendall, Collins, Costello, KyrieBon Good grief! Where is she?
Who, Andrew? Nadine flusters, smoothing her pregnant belly.
Dont panic. You mustnt panic! he orders. Daisy Krasinski. I need that applicant. Where is she?
He looks at Nadine, who shrugs, pulls an apple from her bag, and begins to chew, nervousness making her hungry.
Shes not here! She didnt come! Ive wasted my nerves for my wife, Taisha, because she didnt turn up. I even called the dean, begged for an exception, but he said there were no places. Ive stirred the whole department, and shes still absent. Her dream, her calling, gone. I told the students not to trust me, Nadine, understand?
Nadine nods. She wont trust anyone now, she thinks, hurt.
Andrew is soon spotted near the admission board, spectacles perched, looking displeased.
Looking for someone? A protégé? laughs senior lecturer Fiona Hart, a sharptongued woman. Not everyone gets lucky today.
Im not looking for anyone! the professor yanks his hand free of her grasp and strides to the icecream trolley.
He buys a doublescoop, sits on the same bench, and eats thoughtfully.
Fine then, he decides. Thats what she deserves. I have pike in the pond and perch, and my wifes birthday again why do I keep remembering Daisy?
He wonders why amongst all the failures he remembers her alone; many have tried to bribe or beg him, but she offered nothing, just a promise to study hard. Pure, naïve, and thats why she stuck in his mind.
Meanwhile, Taisha, cheerful and welldressed, watches her husband. Men grill kebabs on the patio, sing with guitars, talk about fishing and football. Women sit on the veranda with the birthday girl, laughing and leafing through fashion magazines. Everything seems fine until Andrew suddenly pales, shakes, and starts gasping for air.
Everyone rushes, feels his pulse, throws out diagnoses. Taisha never notices shes already in the car, Andrews head resting on her lap. The car drives into darkness on a road without streetlights, and fear creeps in.
Whats happening? Hurry! whispers Taisha, clutching his hand. He seems asleep, only groaning occasionally.
Its the heart, probably. What on earth! shouts their friend Igor, driving, eyes scanning the chaotic lights and the crowd on the roadside. Why are we stopped? We need to get through!
An old man on the footpath shouts, Turn back! The fuel tanker has blocked the road! He curses, Who gives rights to these milkdrinking babies! Igor ignores him, swerves around, and they head for the nearest village clinic.
Wheres the emergency ward? Igor yells at the park keeper. Weve got an infarction! Call a doctor! The keeper shivers, looking like hes been given a lemon, shoulders trembling.
Theres a ward everywhere, sir! Everywhere you want! Infarction? Thats just a little cough, my old mum died of it. He babbles about his late mother, tears spilling.
Enough! I said call a doctor! Where are the Hippocratic physicians? Taisha, get inside, bring a stretcher! Igor pounds on the doors; theyre locked. He bangs, screams.
Finally, the infirmary door opens and Nigel Finch, blearyeyed, redcheeked, smells of last nights drink, staggers in. Whats all this racket? Women, stop slamming the doors, your heads will split. What are you doing here? Calm down! He shouts at Taisha, who falls silent, straightens, and pushes the doctor aside to get inside.
Andrew lies in a cold, empty ward as dawn barely filters through papercovered windows, the walls painted a sad blue, the linoleum a dark grey. He calls, Taisha Taisha his voice weak, the room smelling of chlorine. His wife sits on a hard metal chair, halfasleep. He tries to reach for her hand but cant move, sighs and closes his eyes.
The doubledoor opens and a woman in a blue coat with a headscarf steps in. The coat hangs loose on her slender frame, but she isnt embarrassed. She fixes her scarf, leans over the sleeping woman, and says gently, Water? Lets give you some water. She lifts Andrews head.
Daisy? You? he gasps, his freckled nose twitching. The woman nods, smiling.
Im Daisy, Andrew. Dont worry. Nigel told me there was no heart attack, something else. You mustnt stress. Here, drink. She hands him a glass; he takes a few sips, nodding gratefully.
Darcy, what are you doing here? Ive been looking through the lists for two years, and you How could you be Daisy? he mutters, but Daisy places a finger over his lips, silencing him.
Ill come back next year, I promise. Last time I returned, Vicky met me at the station, we married, we had a son, Sam. He was so tiny I couldnt leave him. I became a ward assistant, as you suggested, learned a lot she says.
What is this place? What can I learn here, Daisy? Andrew asks, bewildered. Its horrible, the matron agrees. Thats why I wanted to be a doctor, to change things. But the chief doctor wants to keep it as it is, and theres no money, no supplies. Many hospitals suffer the same, were stuck at the bottom of the queue.
It needs tearing down, this old infirmary! Andrew shouts, pounding the blanket. Mold, drafts, nothing proper!
Andrew! Taisha exclaims, trying to calm him. Dont shout, love, you cant.
Daisy smiles. You look like a wizard, Andrew, she jokes. Just a beard would finish the look.
Who? Daisy! You, Daisy? Andrew stammers.
Im Daisy Krasinski, and youre a professor, not a wizard. Forgive me, Ill get a doctor for you. Taisha
Mrs. Finch, lets get you some tea with biscuits, shall we? Daisy says, taking TaishasAs the sun slipped behind the hedgerows, Andrew watched Daisy slip away, her crisp scarf fluttering, and felt, for the first time in years, a hopeful promise that the old infirmary might someday be rebuilt with fresh purpose.
