Front Line Nurse

by Rosie James

  The almoner was impressed at this quick response. ‘And where did you learn all that?’

  I used to ask our nurse, Nancy, questions all the time in the medical room,’ Angelina replied, ‘and she would always tell me anything I wanted to know. And then, Greta, the nurse who came after Nancy, did exactly the same. They always seemed to like explaining things to me and I used to write it all down and learn it by heart afterwards.’ Angelina smiled quickly. ‘They never said they were fed up with all my questions, but I expect they probably were. I’m afraid I have a habit of keeping on and on when I’m curious,’ she added.

  The almoner looked across at Angelina. Of all the interviews she had conducted, this was one likely to remain in her memory. She handed a notebook across the desk.

  ‘Write down your full name and address – and your age,’ she added, smiling. ‘Together with the names of any relatives or close friends you may have.’ There was a long pause, then she said, ‘And I will speak to the senior nurse, and give her all your details and tell her that, all being well, you will be joining the September intake,’ Miss Day added.

  Angelina nearly fell off her chair with amazement. Had the almoner actually said that she, Angelina Green, would be joining the training school in just a few months’ time? Or was she dreaming?

  She stood up. ‘Thank you, Miss Day,’ she said. ‘Thank you for giving me this chance. I promise I will be worthy of it.’

  The almoner stood as well. ‘I am sure you will,. Miss Green,’ she said. ‘Now then, the session will begin on the first Monday in September and you will present yourself to me on that day at eight o’clock. You will not be living in at first, but you will be given overalls to wear – and later, of course, you will be in uniform. But not before you have attended a number of lectures,’ she added, smiling.

  If it had been the right thing to do Angelina could have flung her arms around Miss Day’s neck. She had done it! Angelina Green had done it! She was going to be a nurse at St Thomas’s!

  The almoner came over and shook Angelina’s hand. ‘I can see that you are very happy to be joining us, Miss Green,’ she said, ‘but I hope you will not be too disillusioned at first.’ She sighed briefly. ‘Because of the present ghastly situation across the channel, nurses are needed more than ever. But nursing is a very hard job, the hours are long and arduous and the pay is small. A mere pittance. Not everyone manages to stay the course.’

  ‘Oh, I will, Miss Day,’ Angelina said. ‘I never give up on anything I start.’

  ‘I believe you, Miss Green,’ the almoner said, following Angelina to the door.

  Chapter 7

  August 1915

  In his study, Randolph Garfield tried to look forward to his friend’s usual visit with more anticipation but was finding it difficult. Tonight Randolph would have preferred to be by himself.

  The war was exactly one year old and all indications were that it was not going well. And he knew that Jacob Mason would have all the facts, ready with his opinions about who, and what, was responsible and how to solve the mess. Perhaps selfishly, the one fact that was weighing heavily on Randolph’s mind was that Alexander was more than likely to become involved.

  Randolph moved over to pour himself a brandy. With college closed for the summer break, Alexander was staying with Honora and her mother at their holiday cottage in Devon for a couple of weeks, and Randolph had accepted the invitation to join Jacob and the family for the coming weekend. Randolph wished he’d made some excuse not to go. He just didn’t feel like it, not while young men were dying in the trenches, many even younger than Alexander, by all accounts.,

  Jacob duly arrived, and took his usual chair opposite Randolph, his white napkin on his knee ready to enjoy his plate of cold meats.

  ‘Don’t look so worried, Randolph,’ Jacob said heartily. ‘Kitchener knows what he’s doing and I’ve got great faith in young Churchill. They’ll sort it out between them and before you know it, all those brave lads will be coming home again.’

  ‘You really think so, Jacob?’ Randolph said quietly, not bothering to point out that among ‘those brave lads’ were certain to be many hopeless, rootless youngsters – Jacob’s so-called ‘driftwood’ – for whom volunteering to sacrifice their lives might have seemed an escape, or even an exciting interruption to their sad and mundane existence.

  ‘Well, you will forgive me,’ Randolph went on, when I say that I fear for my son, Jacob. I have one son, one precious son, and I believe that conscription is to come into force next year which will include Alexander straightaway. Even if he doesn’t volunteer beforehand, which he may well decide to do.’

  ‘Oh, we must scotch that idea at once!’ Jacob declared. ‘Alexander is much too important to you – to us – Honora would be devastated! And as far as conscription is concerned, there are ways around that, Randolph. After all, you can declare that Alexander is essential to the economy, being heavily involved with the family firm, with Garfield Tobacco …’

  ‘But he is not involved,’ Randolph said. ‘He is studying at college, and likely to be doing so for at least three more years. There is no reason why he should not be called up.’

  Jacob held out his glass for a refill. ‘Oh, let’s not worry about that tonight, Randolph,’ he said. ‘Let’s look forward to the weekend ahead! I’ve heard from Elizabeth that the weather is lovely down there and that our youngsters are having a wonderful time together, in and out of the water all the time! Well, they deserve it, don’t they – with Alexander away so much. I know Honora misses him terribly when he’s not with her – well, we all miss him of course, but for Honora it’s different. Those two are meant to be together. Always were,’ Jacob added firmly.

  The following day Maria Jones tapped on the superintendent’s door, and went in. Emma Kingston looked up from her desk, smiling.

  ‘Oh, thank you for staying on, Miss Jones,’ she said, ‘and thank you, once more, for checking up on our little ex-orphans for me as you do.’ She paused. ‘I feel I have come to rely on you rather too much in this particular matter.’

  ‘I am not nearly as busy as you are, Miss Kingston,’ Maria Jones said, ‘and when I leave here each day my time is my own, while you are always on duty, always on call. I sometimes wonder how you keep so cheerful all the time. And anyway, I do love visiting the young people, and making sure they’re all right so it’s no hardship,’ she added.

  ‘That’s so good to hear,’ Emma Kingston said, ‘and don’t worry about me, my dear. This place is where I’m rooted, and where I’m at my happiest. Now then …’ She glanced at papers on her desk. ‘Of the four who left us this year let’s start with Joshua and Thomas. As far as you can tell, do you think that everything is still all right with them?’

  ‘I think they are perfectly happy, safe and settled,’ Maria Jones said. ‘Well, there’s been no complaint from either of the landlords, which is a good sign! And they both seem to like their jobs – especially on pay day! No – I think they’re fine.’

  The superintendent nodded, pleased. Over the years there had been one or two difficult youngsters who’d found it difficult to adjust to life outside the orphanage, but they were few and far between. Miss Kingston liked to think that that was because the door was never shut to the leavers, many of whom visited now and then if they needed help or advice about something, or if they just wanted to come back for tea. Wherever they went, they would always be her children and they knew it.

  ‘And what about Angelina and Ruby?’ Emma Kingston said, though she didn’t really need to ask. She had gone to the house just after they’d moved in, and once again since, and it had been obvious that it was just right for those two.

  ‘They are both very happy,’ Maria Jones said at once, ‘especially Ruby, who loves her job at the hairdresser’s. Though Angelina isn’t quite so keen on hers because she finds it tedious. But they like their room and they’ve made friends with the little family upstairs and look after their baby now and again – which they seem t
o love.’

  The superintendent nodded. ‘Give Angelina someone to look after and take care of and she’s happy.’ Emma paused for a second, before adding, ‘I can’t help thinking that Angelina’s natural goodwill emanates from appreciating her great fortune at having been rescued by Mr Randolph.’

  Maria nodded her agreement at this suggestion, then turned to go. ‘So that’s it, Miss Kingston. You can set your mind at rest about those four,’ she said. ‘As far as I can tell, there is absolutely nothing to worry about.’

  Emma Kingston stood up. ‘I repeat, I am very grateful to you, Miss Jones,’ she said. ‘You are a very hard-working and loyal member of the staff, and I feel I can trust you with anything at all.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Kingston,’ Maria Jones said. ‘It was Mrs Marshall who introduced me, if you remember, and I feel privileged to be working at the Garfield.’

  Just then they heard the doorbell ring, and the sound of Mrs Marshall’s feet hurrying to answer it. Emma Kingston raised her eyes.

  ‘Oh – I hope this is not a newcomer,’ she said, ‘because we simply don’t have any room at the moment.’

  But it was not a newcomer, and after tapping on the door, Angelina and Ruby burst in, all smiles.

  ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’ Emma Kingston said, coming over to give them a hug.

  ‘It’s because I have some news!’ Angelina exclaimed, ‘Guess what? I’ve been taken on, Miss Kingston! At St Thomas’s nurses’ training school! I start in three weeks’ time and I still can’t believe it!’

  ‘Well, well, well’ Emma Kingston said. ‘Do come in, sit down, and tell us all about it.

  Mrs Marshall, who’d been hovering in the doorway full of curiosity, broke in. ‘Would you like me to fetch you a pot of tea, Miss Kingston?’ The superintendent nodded.

  ‘What a good idea, Mrs Marshall – and no, don’t go, Miss Jones. You must stay and hear what this is all about! We like exciting news!’

  And hardly pausing for breath, Angelina described every detail of her interview at the hospital.

  ‘I still feel that I’m dreaming,’ she said, dipping her biscuit into her tea when it had arrived. ‘Because it’s a dream come true, you know it is, Miss Kingston.’

  ‘Yes, we did discuss it last year, didn’t we – but do they know that you are not quite fifteen?’

  Angelina didn’t flinch. ‘Oh well, I said I thought I was but that I didn’t really know, and anyway the almoner asked me all sorts of other questions about nursing and my ambitions and things like that. She seemed quite happy about everything so I don’t think my age matters at all.’ Angelina took another biscuit. ‘And I am going to be paid while I’m training – a very small wage, I believe, but I don’t mind about that. It will probably be enough to still pay my share of our rent, because I shan’t be living-in for a long time, I don’t think.’

  Maria Jones poured everyone a second cup of tea, and looked across at Ruby who’d hardly uttered a word. ‘And what do you think of all this Ruby?’ she asked.

  ‘I just think that Angelina will make the best nurse in the whole world,’ Ruby said, ‘because whatever she does, she’s always out there in front of everyone else. And anyway, it doesn’t matter if her wage is small because I have been given a rise in pay! Mrs Walker told me yesterday that she is very pleased with the way I have gained in confidence.’ Ruby smiled broadly. ‘I am going to be allowed to do some sets soon. I’ve stayed behind a couple of evenings each week so she could show me exactly how to do it. She says it won’t take me long to get the hang of it because she thinks I have a natural flair for hairdressing,’

  Emma Kingston felt a small rush of pride as she looked at Ruby, remembering the pitiful state the child was in when she arrived at the orphanage all those years ago. Now her life seemed to have blossomed, and she was looking so pretty in her flowery, printed cotton dress, with her fair hair – which had always been a rather unruly mass of tight curls – having been styled to follow the shape of her face.

  ‘I do like the way you’ve done your hair, Ruby,’ Emma Kingston said.

  ‘That’s thanks to Mrs Walker,’ Ruby said, ‘because almost as soon as I started at the salon she suggested I might like to do it this way. And every morning, before we open, we both do our hair ready for the day. We sit side by side in front of the mirrors, because as she often says – if we don’t look good ourselves, we’re hardly likely to encourage clients to come in.’

  Emma Kingston sipped at her tea thoughtfully. The moment she had approached the owner of the hairdressing salon about giving young Ruby Lane a chance of some work, she’d been optimistic. Mrs Walker was clearly a kind and considerate woman, and had agreed to take the girl on for a couple of months to see if her work and attitude proved satisfactory. Since Emma Kingston had not heard another word it was obvious that Ruby had found her niche. Many of the orphans who left to live and work further away were seldom heard from again, so it always delighted the superintendent when her children stayed close enough for her to chart their progress.

  ‘So, then, Angelina,’ the superintendent said, ‘when does the Garfield’s Florence Nightingale actually take out her thermometer?’

  ‘Monday the sixth of September,’ Angelina said happily. ‘I told the hotel this morning that I must leave them on the Friday before so I’ve got the weekend to prepare myself for the medical world, but I don’t think I’ll be given a thermometer straightaway, Miss Kingston! For one thing, there are lectures to attend, and there’ll be notes to write up and remember. And tests and exams!’

  ‘Well, you will certainly enjoy that side of things,’ Emma Kingston said, ‘because you always loved your schoolwork, didn’t you? But I’m sure you will soon be given more practical things to do as well. Patients to take care of, and that sort of thing.’

  ‘Can’t wait!’ Angelina said.

  *

  After the girls had left, Mrs Marshall gathered up the tea things and returned to the kitchen. Vera Haines was finishing for the day, and she turned to look at Mrs Marshall.

  ‘He’s been at it again … the priest,’ the cook said, lowering her voice.

  ‘Never! Are you sure?’ Mrs Marshall looked aghast.

  ‘Of course I’m sure, and I think it’s absolutely disgusting. I mean, a man in his position.’

  Mrs Marshall shook her head slowly. ‘This has been going on for too long, Mrs Haines, and I think something should be done about it. I mean – we should do something about it.’

  ‘But it would be so embarrassing,’ Vera Haines said slowly. ‘I really don’t think I could find the words.’

  Mrs Marshall pursed her lips. ‘Well, at least Miss Kingston should be told. She will know how to deal with this.’

  ‘Oh, you know Miss Kingston,’ Vera Haines said emphatically. ‘She will never hear a bad word said about anyone, anyone at all. So she’s not likely to believe us.’

  Mrs Marshall sighed deeply. ‘It’s awful to feel so helpless, isn’t it? I mean, what chance do people like us ever have of challenging someone like the priest? We’re not in the same class.’

  Vera Haines folded her arms. ‘Still, I think it’s absolutely disgusting and he should be thoroughly ashamed of himself.’

  ‘I totally agree,’ Mrs Marshall said, turning away. ‘It’s disgusting!’

  As she opened the front entrance door to leave for the day, Mrs Marshall heard scurrying feet coming up behind her. It was Miss Jones, and soon, the two began walking home together. This rarely happened, because although they lived fairly close, Mrs Marshall worked later hours.

  ‘Well, Angelina is certainly thrilled to be taken on at St Thomas’s,’ Mrs Marshall said, ‘I hope the life comes up to her expectations. Nursing is not for everyone.’

  Maria Jones nodded. ‘No, you are right, Mrs Marshall, but I really believe that it is perfect for Angelina, and I think she is going to do very well. In all the years I have watched her grow up it is obvious that she is quick to learn, quick to understand. An
d always with such boundless energy.’

  ‘That is true,’ Mrs Marshall agreed. ‘In fact she is about the one child that always got on my nerves because she would never take no for an answer. Always asking questions … “What’s this for, what’s that for?” I have been known to give her the odd slap, I’m afraid.’

  Maria Jones smiled. ‘I’m sure that did her no lasting harm, Mrs Marshall.’

  Presently, as they were nearing home, Mrs Marshall said, ‘I do wonder how little Ruby will get on by herself when Angelina lives in at the hospital. Ruby has always depended on her, hasn’t she?’

  ‘By the sound of it,’ Maria Jones said, ‘little Ruby has begun to take charge of her own life. Her job is going well, and she’s making other friends … no, Ruby will be all right. And anyway, I shall be keeping an eye on her from time to time, and she will be able to keep us up to date with Angelina’s progress.’

  They parted company, and Maria Jones said, ‘I hope you find your husband in reasonable spirits this evening, Mrs Marshall.’

  ‘Not much chance of that,’ was the laconic reply.

  Maria Jones smiled to herself as she walked to her own home at the end of the terraced block of small cottages. Surprisingly, she had become quite fond of Mrs Marshall over the years, even if the woman could be difficult at times. But she worked very long hours at the orphanage to support herself and her husband, who apparently never set foot outside the door, so she probably felt tired and depressed now and again, Maria thought.

  She opened her front door and went inside to the home she’d lived in most of her life, realising that she, herself, never felt depressed, even though she had lived alone for so long. She had barely known her father, and her mother had passed away when Maria was still in her teens, but she had quickly learned to be resourceful and make her own way in the world. This was mostly thanks to her mother who had taught Maria the handiwork skills that supplemented her wages as a cleaner. She regularly secured contracts from the market to make curtains and cushions and chair backs for customers, and sitting quietly by the window with her machine and needle and thread and embroidery silks, even at the end of a very long day, was her way of relaxing. They were her companions, she realised now. Her thoughts ran on, and she acknowledged that getting married had never appealed to her. Besides, just imagine having a son who might be in uniform and fighting this dreadful war! The news from the Front seemed to be getting worse every day. Imagine if someone you loved was over there …