by Edgar Garrett
Susan loved her job as a student nurse. It meant very hard work and long hours, but she wouldn’t have swopped it for any other job in the whole world. . . .
Which was something her shorthand-typist friend, Anne, simply couldn’t understand. . . and she was forever saying so when they met regularly on Susan’s free day.
“You’re wasting yourself,” Anne insisted one day. “You took shorthand-typing. Get an office job. The hours are easy and the money’s good. Stop slaving for that ogress of a matron.”
But Susan smiled and said, “Matron isn’t nearly as grim as she looks – and there must be discipline in a hospital. Besides, nursing is a worthwhile job.”
But Anne was not convinced. Later, before parting at the hospital gates, the girls planned a bus trip into the country the following Saturday.
It was another busy week for Susan, but she enjoyed every minute of it. There was always something happening on the ward; always something new to learn.
On Saturday, as arranged, Susan met Anne in the town square where they boarded a bus. It was crowded with children off on a picnic.
Soon the bus was rolling through the open country. The youngsters were all so happy: some laughing and waving from the windows and others singing gaily at the tops of their voices.
Suddenly the bus skidded. Plunging through a hedge it stopped in a ditch. The driver’s head struck the windscreen. Everyone was flung forward.
With the driver stunned, Susan took instant command and calmed the frightened children.
The passenger door was jammed. Susan told Anne, “Give me a hand with this emergency door.”
Between them they got the emergency door open and helped the children out. Happily none had suffered worse than minor cuts and bruises, but these – and the driver’s head wound – needed attention, so Susan got busy with the bus first-aid box.
Watching, Anne realised how utterly useless she was to help. She felt ashamed.
“Suppose it had been a serious accident? I just wouldn’t have known what to do,” Anne thought miserably. “I couldn’t have helped anyone.”
Meanwhile a passing motorist had telephoned for a doctor. When he arrived he congratulated Susan before smiling at Anne. “Thank goodness for nurses, eh?” he said.
Anne was unusually silent, even after the relief bus showed up.
She had a problem, but, by the end of the day, she had solved it.
And not long afterwards Anne, too, was a student nurse.
Hard work and long hours did not matter any more. Like Susan she was doing a worthwhile job.
From Deans Premier Book for Girls. 1966.
