A House for Sister Mary

by Lucilla Andrews

‘What did you say?’

  ‘That if we didn’t do something fast to save his sanity as well as his life, he wouldn’t have any future in which to be an addict. Then he threw this new stuff we are giving Tom at me. He said we must give it a chance.’

  ‘Sister said I must be patient.’

  Hazel’s reply was unrepeatable. I repeated it to myself several times as I stormed down the block stairs. Robert was sitting on the windowsill nearest the foot of our stairs in the ground-floor corridor.

  He got off and came up to me. ‘How’s Elkroyd now?’

  ‘Asleep.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Yes,’ I snapped bitterly, ‘it is. He can use the sleep after having me practically sitting on his chest as the only way of keeping him from trying to bang his head against the wall. I’m not all that light ‒ and nor was the pain he was in.’

  ‘That I gathered from the state he was in when I looked round the door. I wanted another look at his eyes, but that can wait until my night round, and if he’s still sleeping, tomorrow.’

  Tom Elkroyd was Mr. Muir’s only patient in Observation, and, as Mr. Muir had been called in by his colleague, Tom remained primarily Mr. Browne’s patient and in the general charge of the cranial residents. But Mr. Muir was involved, which involved Robert. I had noticed he got on well with Henry Todd, and he was by a few months Henry’s senior. Henry might pay more attention to him that he had to Hazel Carter, whom I guessed had rubbed him up the wrong way by demanding too openly that he write up that new script for Tom. In general it was possible to get our residents to order exactly what the nursing staff wanted, but it had to be done tactfully. Once any doctor, no matter how junior, suspected a nurse of teaching him his job, nothing would shift him. Admittedly I had bullied that houseman into being my witness, but there had been tears in my large blue eyes when he looked like refusing. He did not know that they were tears of rage, and I did not tell him. They got me what I wanted for Tom, and to help him more if necessary I would weep on Robert’s shoulder.

  I had first to swallow my fury with surgeons in general and dislike of Robert in particular. I asked meekly if he could spare me a few minutes. ‘There’s something I want to know about Tom Elkroyd.’

  He looked at me thoughtfully, then up and down the long corridor. Two junior night nurses and a posse of white coats were some distance off but coming our way. ‘We can’t talk here. Let’s go to Eyes.’

  The Ophthalmic Department was closed at night but left unlocked in case it should be needed. Patients with eye injuries or ailments who came in during the night were first seen in Casualty.

  He switched on the light in Sister Eyes’ glass-walled office. ‘We’ll use this.’ He put a second chair at the desk. ‘Well, Anna? Do you really want to know something? Or am I right in suspecting you just want something?’

  I hesitated, wondering what was the best approach. We had not worked together since I was too junior to have any direct dealings with the men. He was the only man on our staff I knew better out of as opposed to in a white coat. As a man he disliked frills. I cut them out. ‘Both. Why has Brown-plus-E got this later, later, fixation? And if it’s got to be later, why can’t he be given enough dope to take the edge right off? I know that’s going to mean stepping it up again and again. I know the rules. I’ve nursed addicts. I know they aren’t pretty. But if you had come into Tom’s room a few minutes earlier you wouldn’t have seen a pretty sight either.’ I told him briefly all that had happened. ‘Quite apart from how much good is the memory of cracking once going to do his morale, how much good is all that thrashing about going to do his head? Can’t he have more? Surely if the bosses say yes, no one can question them?’

  ‘No. They make the rules.’ He took a clean ophthalmic chart from Sister Eyes’ file and started doing sums. ‘Do you realise how much he’s already having in the twenty-four hours?’

  ‘Yes.’ I gave the figure without having to look at his. ‘But can’t you set his age, weight, and general condition against that? And in any case, it just isn’t enough.’

  He said, ‘There’s talk of switching him to another line.’

  I asked, ‘Can anything touch the white poppy for pain-killing?’

  He did not answer. He frowned at his figures, then took off his glasses. ‘Was he truly maniacal?’

  ‘Not truly. He went over the edge, but he did respond. Now it’s happened once, he may lose his nerve. I’m worried about next time.’

  ‘Yes. That could be a problem. I’ll talk to Henry Todd. The move has to be his, as you know.’ He replaced his glasses to look at me. ‘Why haven’t you discussed this with him?’

  ‘No chance today. I did see Browne this afternoon, but he was in a hurry, and this hadn’t happened then. And then you were there.’

  ‘Yes. I was.’ He drew a diagram of the brain on that blank chart-back and added the outline of a skull. ‘You asked, “why later, later?” The answer’s simple. Pro tem, he’s inoperable.’

  ‘God! No!’ Then I realised he had used that pro tem. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s sitting here.’ He drew a tiny circle. ‘See why?’

  I could not say anything for a few moments. I stared at his drawing until the mist cleared. ‘I knew it was deep, but not as deep as that. You’re sure?’

  ‘Afraid so. He’s got the symptoms of one a little higher. That put everyone off the track at first. But it’s way down here, and the only way to get to it is to go in this way’ ‒ he sketched an imaginary line with a finger ‒ ‘slap through that.’

  ‘That’ll kill him.’

  ‘Yes. Hence the hold-up. You know this new stuff he’s having ‒’

  ‘Which is doing sweet Fanny Adams ‒’

  ‘Anna, no one can be sure of that. He hasn’t had it long enough. There is just a chance it may inhibit this specific growth.’

  ‘An outside chance. I read it up.’

  He glanced at me. ‘How? It’s too new to have reached the textbooks.’

  ‘I discovered that. I asked Senior Sister Tutor. She got hold of some pamphlets for me. They said it had had a limited success, appeared harmless, and could be useful.’

  He was watching me more keenly. ‘That was very enterprising of you.’

  I was too concerned by the main issue to bother to take umbrage at the implication behind that remark.

  ‘I’m nursing him. I don’t like giving patients drugs I know nothing about.’

  ‘Reasonable. When you read it up did you read of its side-effects?’

  ‘No. Far as I can remember, the pamphlets didn’t give them. Why?’

  ‘It seems to have one odd and apparently safe temporary effect. It toughens this.’ He scribbled on his drawing. ‘When ‒ and if ‒ that happens with him he’ll start dropping things. Then he won’t be able to grip anything. Then it may be safe to risk going in ‒ and Brown-plus-E may take that risk. It’ll still be a very dodgy business.’

  ‘And he’ll have to be told that.’

  ‘He will. As he’ll be conscious throughout, that means his co-operation as well as consent. Think he’ll give it?’

  I nodded heavily. ‘He’s expecting something like this. He’s no fool. He knows we are not doing all these tests for fun. He’s very worried about his family, and he misses them a lot. Not that he’ll ever admit that. But when he has to be asked for consent I’ll bet anything he’ll say, “Oh, aye? Let’s get on with it then”.’

  We were quiet for a little while, then I thanked him for explaining.

  ‘Not at all. I would have done this before. I assumed you knew.’

  ‘No. I’ve been meaning to ask Henry Todd, but he always has to rush away after rounds. It’s been the same with Dick Richards (the houseman). I can scarcely waylay Brown-plus-E.’ I paused. ‘Does Sister Observation know?’

  ‘It was all discussed in front of her this morning.’

  ‘Then why couldn’t she tell me?’

  ‘Possibly because all this is still mainly hypothetical, and Sabb
y Wardell has always preferred to deal in facts.’ He stood up. ‘We covered the lot? Then let’s go.’ As he switched off the light and followed me out he asked, ‘Did Tom see me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. He’d not like that.’

  I said, ‘I am afraid he’s not going to like my having been there. He’s never let anyone see him weep before.’

  ‘I doubt he’ll mind your being with him. He likes you. He calls you “his Nurse Rowe”.’ We were back in the main corridor. ‘I’ll have that wee talk with Henry,’ he said, and we went our separate ways.

  Back in the Home a message in our rack said Mr. Dexter had telephoned Nurse Rowe twice since 9 p.m. Nick rang again some time later. ‘What train shall I meet on Sunday?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. It’ll depend on Jill Collins. We’ll be coming back together.’

  He grumbled, ‘Three dinners instead of two! Back to the old drawing-board.’

  I smiled reluctantly. I was glad to have him back in town, but not yet in a laughing mood. ‘Nick, perhaps we should call this off. Jill may have other plans.’

  He said, ‘You wouldn’t be trying to give me the brush off again, my love?’

  ‘Of course not! It’s just that I can’t answer for Jill. It’s late to ring her now.’

  ‘Then I must ring you over the week-end. What’s the number?’

  ‘I don’t know. Sorry.’

  ‘It’ll be in the book, I guess, under Martin. Wasn’t he the last owner? Right. I’ll find it.’

  ‘Nick,’ I said, ‘you are a dear.’

  ‘I am not! I am a nut! I shouldn’t be on speaking terms with you for standing me up for a scrubbing-brush! It’s just that I hate eating alone. Ruins my digestion. But don’t think I’m not cross with you, darling. I am raging,’ he added cheerfully. ‘I shall now ring off and try and cool down working out a nice new hyperbolic paraboloid roof.’

  ‘A nice what?’

  ‘A hyperbolic paraboloid roof. That’s a roof that contains all the advantages of a double-curved surface like a dome, but is much simpler to construct, as straight beams can be incorporated. You follow me, of course?’

  ‘Of course. Into the darkness.’

  He laughed. ‘Never mind, sweetie. I love you the way you are; though, after the way you treat me, God knows why! See you Sunday!’

  I went back to my room, thinking I should be walking on air. It was not Nick’s fault I was not. He did not know Tom Elkroyd, and even had he known about him he was unlikely to have been able to understand my present feelings about Tom. Had I attempted to explain my anxiety on the telephone, either Nick would have tried to laugh me out of it or he would have made some typically lay crack about Tom being responsible for my trying to avoid him, or any other outsider, that it was possible to become emotionally involved with a patient without sex entering into it. I had felt as close to Mrs. Bird, to dozens, if not hundreds, of other women and children, as well as to other men patients, as I now did to Tom. Perhaps, I thought, leaning out of my window and looking across to the lights in Observation, only another nurse or doctor could wholly understand how that could happen. It had made sense to Robert, and without either of us having to put it into words he had given me the impression that Tom Elkroyd mattered to him quite as much as he did to me. Nick might well have a word for that too, but it would have been too infantile ‒ and off the mark ‒ to be an insult. Robert, I decided, had been rather nice in Eyes. Perhaps his coming to Observation was not going to be such a bad thing after all. We did not have to see much of each other, and when we did there were invariably other people around. I had seen he was shaken by Tom’s cracking. If he did manage to get something done to prevent that recurring I should be very grateful to him ‒ which would certainly be a novel sensation.

  Tom’s injections were altered during that night. The new script was written, dated, and signed by Mr. Browne. Tom was not told of his increased dose. He told me he had had a right good night and felt much better. I had not intended mentioning last night, until he apologised for playing me up like a right mug. ‘Happen you’ll be used to that?’

  ‘I’ve known it happen, Tom. I won’t say I’m used to it.’

  ‘Soft, are you?’ he grinned. ‘Like my Betty.’

  Sister came in. ‘More comfortable, Mr. Elkroyd? Good.’ She turned to me. ‘I’d like a word with you when you have finished in here, please, Nurse Rowe.’

  After she had gone, Tom asked, ‘The Sister’s not having you on the mat, Nurse?’

  ‘I hope not. I don’t think so. She probably wants to tell me something about one of my other patients.’

  ‘You’ll know your workmates, Nurse.’

  He adjusted the dark glasses he had chosen to wear as he wanted his curtains open. ‘But the look the Sister just give you put me in mind of our foreman when he’s of a mind to have one of the lads on mat.’

  Robert was having coffee with Sister when I reached the duty-room. He lowered his cup. ‘Am I in the way, Sister?’

  ‘No, Mr. Gordon. This won’t take a moment. Come in and shut the door, please, Nurse Rowe.’

  That, in mid-morning, was an ominous sign. It heralded bad news or a lecture. Robert stood up. ‘I do have a lot to get through as it’s my week-end off. Perhaps I should get on, Sister.’

  ‘There’s another message from Mr. Browne I have to give you for Mr. Muir.’ She looked from him to me. ‘Nurse Rowe, Mr. Turner came in on his own to look at Mrs. Bird while you were with Frank Sands. I did not call you. Mr. Turner was very satisfied with Mrs. Bird. He wishes her to remain with us for another week and then transfer to a general ward. Later he wants her to spend at least a month in our convalescent home. I have been in touch with Sister Matilda and reserved her a bed for next Friday. I have contacted the almoners and will let you know when they give me details about a convalescent bed.’

  This was all good news. I was very pleased and said so.

  ‘It is pleasing,’ she agreed coldly. ‘What did not please me was the condition of Mrs. Bird’s room. I do not expect to have to complain to a staff nurse of your seniority about untidiness, but I was appalled by the disgraceful state in which you have allowed your team to leave that room. I had to apologise to Mr. Turner. I do not care to have to apologise for my nurses!’

  I did not care to be scolded like a junior in front of a third person. There was only one thing I could say: ‘I’m sorry. Sister.’

  She inclined her head. ‘Leave the door open as you go, Nurse.’

  Robert was gazing at some notes. He did not look up as I let myself out. It was something that he knew how to behave, even if she did not.

  I found Addy in the linen-room some minutes later. She made soothing noises while I exploded to her.

  ‘Is Mrs. Bird’s room really untidy?’

  ‘It is not! I’ve just checked. It’s spotless, apart from a few notes spread over her bed-table and a few reference books on her locker. Old Turner wouldn’t have objected ‒ and it isn’t even as if it’s his morning for a round up here! I don’t know why Wardell has to beef ‒ and if she must, why couldn’t she wait until she had me alone?’

  ‘She never does,’ said Addy, placidly refolding and then replacing a pillowslip that had been put on the shelf the wrong way round. ‘She’s taken me apart in front of the girls, the men, and, once, even old Sir Julius. She’s laid off us a bit lately, but you’ll just have to get used to it when she is in one of her moods. I noticed she had the makings of one this morning. You done anything to upset her?’

  ‘Don’t think so.’ Then I remembered last night. I explained to Addy. ‘Would Robert Gordon have told her? If he has, why should she object?’

  ‘Oh! Oh! That explains it.’

  ‘It does? How? What’s so wrong with my discussing one of my patients with one of his registrars in my own time?’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with your discussing a patient, love, but there are those who would say you picked the wrong registrar.’ She smiled at my ex
pression. ‘Hadn’t you caught on?’

  ‘Robert Gordon and Wardell ‒ No? Since when?’

  ‘They do say since he came back to Barny’s. They are always around together when they’re off. Hadn’t you heard?’ I shook my head. ‘Most people have. I haven’t mentioned it before as Wardell’s private life is none of our business, and as you are so patently allergic to Robert Gordon there was no need to warn you off. I’ll tell you now it has struck me your attitude to him might be one reason why you have so far got on very well with Wardell.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that ‒’

  ‘I would. I’ve worked with her longer than you have, and I know what she’s like when someone or something gets under her skin. We all suffer!’ She dealt with another pillowslip. ‘Why do you suppose Frances Gilroy left this ward?’

  Frances Gilroy was my predecessor. ‘I thought because she wanted to go back to the theatre?’ Addy was shaking her head. ‘Wrong? Wardell?’

  ‘Wardell. She didn’t hit it off with Gilroy, and in a few weeks gave her such hell ‒ and the rest of us ‒ that Gilroy landed up in Matron’s Office in tears, begging for a transfer. Matron smoothed that over by sending us Trimmer, smartly, but, as she was too junior to be second staff, she was temporary until you were free.’

  I was intrigued and too amused to stay angry. ‘I never thought the day would come when anyone would get het up about me and Robert Gordon! Are they that serious?’

  ‘That I don’t know. I know what I hear, but I never believe half I hear. What I do know is, Wardell has a very possessive streak. Haven’t you noticed? My ward. My patients. My nurses. My. My. My. So ‒ my man.’

  ‘She can have him. Any day of the week and twice on Sundays, even though he has done my Mr. Elkroyd a very good turn.’

  ‘Robbie Gordon’s a good doctor, love.’ She was smiling. ‘Or is that something else you haven’t heard?’

  The Elizabeth junior staff nurse was leaving the dining-room as I went into lunch. ‘I hoped I’d see you, Rowe. Sister Elizabeth says could you look in on her as soon as possible?’

  At lunch I looked out for Harriet, but she did not come in. I wanted to ask her why she was slipping. She heard every grapevine buzz in Cas, but had not said a word to me about Wardell and Robert. If, by some miracle, she had not heard either, I wanted to tell her.