The Quiet Wards

by Lucilla Andrews

  ‘Lass,’ one Yorkshire mother said, ‘it’s a real treat to meet a lad like ’yon. Home-like.’

  Mr Rufford was born and raised in Wimbledon.

  At ten minutes to one Sister’s head came round the door.

  ‘Nurse Snow, you should have gone to twelve-thirty lunch.’

  I went over to her. ‘I’m sorry, Sister ‒ I didn’t realise that.’

  She tapped her foot. ‘If you are to work in my department you will kindly understand that I do not expect to have to chase senior nurses to meals. Surely you can read the notice on the wall in my office?’

  I did not like to remonstrate again with the explanation that I had had no time to read any notices since I had come on duty; I apologised once more, and said there were still three children waiting to be seen.

  Sister frowned, ‘Your room should be cleared by now. I shall have to send a probationer to finish off for you, which will be most inconvenient.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sister.’ I was sounding like a gramophone record.

  A few seconds later a harassed pro scuttled into my room; I told her what remained to be done, excused myself to Mr Rufford, and crossed the corridor to collect my cloak from our changing-room.

  The S.S.O. had come out of his room when I got back to the corridor. He was talking to Sister; his back was to the changing-room door.

  ‘I won’t be back until after three this afternoon, Sister,’ I heard him say. ‘I have to be on Mr Marcus’s round in Robert.’

  Sister was in the way, and I had to wait. I heard her answer clearly. ‘Something,’ she said, ‘always seems to be going on in Robert these days. I wonder why?’

  John noticed me, and side-stepped for me to pass. He was looking at her as I glanced up to see how he was taking this. I learnt nothing; his expression was as non-committal as hers. ‘I’ve no idea, Sister.’

  I told Lisa about this at lunch. ‘But really, that silly young woman needn’t flap! Our John never notices me. Often, when he’s around, I wonder if I’m there at all. If Sister could have seen the way he never looked at me in Robert ‒ or this morning when I had to haul him out for old Rufford ‒ she’d be a new woman.’

  Lisa reached for the salt. ‘I wish you’d say that again, dear girl, when she can overhear you. She was quite insufferable when he vanished with you. The pros have been having nervous breakdowns all morning; she came in and gave me the once over while I was waiting for him to come back, and I nearly burst into tears myself! Not sorrow ‒ blind rage. Blast!’ She had half-emptied the salt-cellar in her preoccupation with Sister O.P.s. ‘She found fault with every miserable thing I had done, and made me look an absolute fool in front of the patients. They were sweet ‒ as always ‒ but that only made it worse. I sniffed round the benches like a first-year.’ She sighed. ‘You know something, Gillian: if you are going to affect her thus, fond as I am of you, dear girl, I can’t help wishing you had kept your hands on those darned keys.’

  ‘You don’t wish it any more than I do,’ I said gloomily, thinking of Peter.

  She was instantly remorseful. ‘Dear girl, I am sorry. Why can’t I keep my big mouth shut? I know it’s wretched for you. And such bad luck your buddy Carol Ash isn’t on days to cheer you up.’

  I agreed. ‘I miss Carol. She and I could generally raise a laugh in the old days.’

  Lisa said, ‘Poor kid, she’s had a packet too. That was a bad do she had.’

  ‘Bad as they come. Hardly surprising if she’s a bit subdued now.’

  Lisa murmured sympathetically. She did not say anything specific, but the sound was kind. A few minutes later she said, ‘Still, there’s always Peter Kier, isn’t there? Don’t,’ she added quickly, ‘think I’m prying, dear girl. I’m just a busy little bee combing the horizons for silver linings.’

  I said I had not thought she was prying. ‘I’m all for a silver lining, Lisa. Tell me if you find one.’

  She smiled. She had a very attractive smile ‒ it illuminated her whole face, as smiles are meant to, but seldom do. She was not pretty; her features were too irregular, her eyes too small and deep-set, her mouth too wide, yet the general effect was attractive and lively. Lisa was the most mobile person I have ever seen. She was never still, mentally or physically; even her hair was mobile. It was light brown, and stood out from her head as if electrified, which at times indeed it was. Lisa combing her hair could put any near-by wireless out of action. It was one of her parlour tricks which we had discovered accidentally years ago in the Preliminary Training School. My set were all very proud of Lisa’s hair, if slightly scared of her forthright tongue.

  ‘Now do tell me,’ she said, ‘if you two are engaged yet? I know you’ve been inseparable for the past year and I’ve wondered ‒’

  ‘No call to wonder,’ I said, ‘we aren’t. We are just ‒’

  She broke in. ‘Let me guess ‒ good friends?’

  I nearly said old acquaintances, then decided against it. I was not yet ready to have a hearty girlish laugh at my late friendship with Peter. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘One thing I like about this hospital,’ said Lisa complacently, ‘is the number of Good Friendships that exist. Why do you think it is? Our hearts wrapped up in our work?’

  ‘Our feet hurt too much?’

  ‘Could be, dear girl. Of course, there’s always the ugly fact that none of us have any money. You can’t set up house on a houseman’s pay ‒ if you’ll excuse the horrible pun! Not unless you are someone like your pal Carol.’ She wagged her head at me. ‘We ought to be heiresses, Gill, you and I. Then we’d knock ’em cold.’

  ‘Heiresses?’

  She nodded, and her cap nearly took off from her wiry hair. ‘Yes. Like your pal Carol.’ She said she got quite a kick out of having all that cash in our set.

  ‘But Carol’s not all that wealthy?’ I protested.

  ‘Dear girl,’ she said, ‘don’t be dumb. Open any aeroplane bonnet ‒ if aeroplanes have bonnets ‒ and what do you find? One of her old man’s machines. He must have made a packet, and she’s the one and only, isn’t she?’ I said yes. ‘Well, ducks, she must have most of it, less death duties, tax, and what have you. I wonder the boys aren’t queueing up.’

  I said I had wondered that too. ‘Not because of her cash. Funnily, I’ve never connected her with much cash ‒ she’s a good soul, doesn’t throw it around. That’s one of the nicest things about Carol. Just shows,’ I went on thoughtfully, ‘how nice. There am I, her best friend here, and I had forgotten all about it. But to get back to the boys ‒ I’ve often wondered why she’s never run around with them. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s because she’s just not interested in them; which is a pity, because Carol’s a honey, and ought to have had a lot of fun all these years.’

  I expected Lisa to echo this, but all she said was, ‘I don’t really know Carol at all for all that she is one of us girls. You know how it is in a place this size if you’ve never worked together. But I know she’s a great buddy of yours, so she must be nice.’

  I laughed. ‘I am staggered and touched. To think I never even knew you cared!’

  ‘Dear girl,’ she said sententiously, ‘I am undemonstrative but I feel deeply.’ Then she laughed too. ‘Hang it, Gill, you and I have sweated over the sick together a lot. Remember our dark days as co-juniors in Luke and John?’

  ‘Don’t remind me.’ I closed my eyes. ‘Draw a veil. I don’t think we stopped laughing or collecting rockets from Sister L. and J. the whole four months. Wasn’t she a horror?’

  Lisa admitted that Sister L. and J. was sheer murder.

  ‘But reasonable murder, Gill ‒ I mean she was just hell-minded to one and all, regardless of sex and rank. She’s not like this glamorous so-and-so in O.P.s. Wait till you see her with the student men! She’s pure syrup.’

  I was still thinking of Sister Luke and John. ‘Remember that time we both wanted the same off-day to go to the ball? And Sister asked if we thought this was a hospital or a palais de danse
, and reminded us that in her young days probationers had never heard of dances!’

  ‘Wasn’t she ghastly!’ said Lisa with simple pride. ‘But she gave us the evening off all the same! Which reminds me ‒ I suppose, now you’re off nights, you and Peter will be joining the merry rugger throng?’

  ‘No.’ I took a piece of bread I did not want. ‘No, we won’t.’

  ‘Why not, for goodness sake? You both love dancing. You’re surely not going into purdah because someone has swiped some morph.?’

  ‘No,’ I said again, ‘not that. He’s taking Carol for a change.’

  She put down her knife and fork and gaped at me. ‘He’s doing what? Dear girl, why?’

  ‘He asked her.’

  Lisa’s hair was positively vibrant. ‘Dear girl, do you mind?’

  I was going to lie, when I changed my mind. I like Lisa and disliked lying to my friends, or come to that, my enemies.

  ‘Life’s not exactly an untrammelled song at the moment, so what’s one more snag? Only don’t get this wrong ‒ it’s got nothing to do with Carol.’

  ‘Then why is she going with him?’

  I explained.

  ‘I see.’ She looked down at her plate for several seconds. Then she said, ‘I suppose you know what you’re doing ‒ and certainly Peter Kier gives one the impression that he eats out of your hand ‒ but if I were you, I’d be careful.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well,’ she said slowly, ‘I’m all for kindness to dumb animals and children, but I think there should be a limit to altruism. And me, I think handing over your young man even to a bosom pal, goes beyond that limit. Tricky. Dead risky. Still,’ she brightened, ‘I’m sure you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ I said. ‘I don’t. I am in the dark.’

  She said I was in bad company. ‘With you in the dark is our respected Miss Mack. She’s like the proverbial cat on hot bricks with our John. The only fun I get these days is watching her watching him.’

  I was so relieved to drop the subject of Peter that I was happy to discuss the chances of this ‒ to me ‒ novel affair.

  ‘Maybe she’s secretly knocked him for six?’

  Lisa snorted. ‘Not her. And not him. Nothing short of a bulldozer ‒ and a dirty great bulldozer at that ‒ could make any impression on dear Mr Dexter.’

  I said I did not see why not. ‘She is quite lovely, Lisa ‒ and don’t forget he takes her out to tea. That’s purple passion for John.’

  ‘Phooey,’ said Lisa, ‘she hasn’t got what it takes! No ‒ don’t laugh ‒ she hasn’t ‒ truthfully. I’ve watched the other young men with her, and for all her golden hair and coives, they run like stags in the opposite direction. Notwithstanding the syrup. No sex appeal.’ She smiled up at the maid who was collecting our plates, ‘Don’t pretend to be shocked, Agnes. You know all about sex appeal.’

  Agnes giggled and said, ‘Get along there, Nurses; really, Nurse Smith, the things you say!’

  Lisa watched Agnes’s swaying back-view reflectively. ‘If only that man is really casting lingering, longing looks at Sister, how happy we will be in the department.’

  ‘But I thought you said he was too good for her?’

  ‘So he is, but who am I to wish our John ill? I’m fond of him. I think he’s sweet’ ‒ she talked as if he was her pet teddy-bear ‒ ‘and I find I can’t bear to think of his pining away under that granite exterior. I also can’t bear to think of life in O.P. as it was this morning. One degree lower than slave-labour. So if he’ll only take her off our hands, I’ll give him my blessing and even raise a subscription among the O.P. girls for a wedding present!’

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ I had seen the clock. ‘Lisa, it’s twenty-five past! She’ll kill us if we don’t get back on time.’

  We stood up quickly, and left the dining-room. Lisa glanced round casually, and said, ‘Bother ‒ I’ve left my pen in there,’ and ducked back through the glass doors as Peter came out of the men’s dining-room, which lay opposite to our own.

  ‘Hallo, Peter ‒ be seeing you,’ she called over her shoulder.

  Peter caught me up. ‘Gillian! Where are you working?’

  I forgot my desire to return to duty punctually, and stopped. ‘Hallo. O.P.s. Pro tem.’

  ‘That must be nice for O.P.s, darling.’ He did not look as if he thought it at all nice for anyone. Then he pulled himself together, and said he was glad I was back in circulation again.

  ‘Makes a change,’ I agreed.

  ‘Look here,’ he smiled suddenly, ‘are you off? Can we chat?’

  ‘On.’ I told him about Sister. ‘If I’m not back in three minutes I really will be out on my ear.’

  He dug his hands in his pockets. ‘Like that, is it? Too bad. I wish,’ he hesitated. ‘I wish you weren’t in such a panic.’

  ‘You do?’

  He was not much taller than I, and our eyes were nearly level. As so often happened when we met, we seemed to be carrying on two conversations at the same time. I was certain that he had heard as little of what my voice had said as I had of his.

  He shook his head. ‘When are you off?’

  ‘Six.’

  He said, ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Darling,’ he said impatiently, ‘you do ask the damnedest questions. Of course it is. You’ve been buried in Robert for months. Long time no see.’

  One of us, I thought, must clearly be up the wall.

  I reminded him that we had met a couple of days ago in the canteen.

  ‘Oh ‒ that.’ He waved the scene away with one hand. ‘You were all strung up then, sweetie, too grim and earnest. But you know quite well what I mean. It’s months since we’ve seen each other in a bright light ‒ and months since I’ve seen you without that covering layer of white starch. I was just wondering if I couldn’t bribe old Tom to stand in for me tonight, and maybe we could eat something somewhere and talk of this and that.’

  I did not understand this change of attitude, nor did I bother to understand it; it was too pleasant. I was also far too busy holding my breath ‒ in case I woke up and found that this was not happening and that it was all wishful thinking on my part ‒ to trouble about even a minor analysis of his words.

  I said I thought it would be a splendid idea if Tom Thanet was open to bribery.

  ‘I can fix Tom,’ he said easily, ‘and the boss should be all right. He’s pretty co-operative if there’s no crisis brewing. I’ll see what I can do.’ He rocked on his heels. ‘Will you mind if I leave things in the air until this evening? I’ll ring you and let you know ‒ or drop in chez O.P.s. All right?’

  I did not mind anything or anybody. I said that would be quite all right, and I would enjoy an evening out. And with that miracle of understatement I suddenly recalled Sister O.P.s, and rushed down the broad main hospital corridor to Out-Patients so quickly that I reached it before Lisa, who had been walking there by way of the basement stairs and corridor all the time I had been talking to Peter.

  ‘Haemorrhage or fire, dear Nurse?’ she asked as she caught me up.

  I said neither; I was just a keen type, and couldn’t wait to get my hands on my lamp again. We reported back to Sister Out-Patients, who looked at us coldly, and said that at St Martha’s hospital the senior nurses were expected to be punctual.

  As she spoke, the clock in the hospital tower struck the half hour. Lisa and I stood with our hands behind our backs and chanted smugly, ‘Yessister, sorrysister.’

  Chapter Five

  AN INVITATION FROM THE WRONG MAN

  Sister was off duty from two until five that afternoon; the department was as busy as it had been all morning, but there was an atmosphere of calm in the corridor and waiting rooms. Nurse Blakelock had been a staff nurse for two years and had a placid nature. She was also extremely efficient, and remained unperturbed by anything from the premature birth of a baby in the corridor to a seaman going berserk with a plaster
knife in the orthopaedic room, both of which incidents had occurred while she was in charge when I was last in O.P.s.

  ‘Never a dull moment, Snow,’ she murmured as she hauled me from the security of my children to the skin clinic, and then sent me to chaperone for a stray cardiac who had wandered up on the wrong day for her clinic, and had to be seen by some physician immediately. ‘I’ll rustle up a medical registrar from somewhere,’ she promised, ‘but for Pete’s sake stand by with the oxygen. That poor old girl is as blue as they come. And crazy! Imagine coming up on the underground with that heart!’ She warned me not to let Matron see me. ‘Put on a mask ‒ and if she asks what you’re doing out of the kids’ room say you’re borrowing something. I can’t leave my old Mrs Jenks with a pro.’

  At three she sent Lisa to relieve me. ‘E.N.T. kids for you now, dear girl,’ said Lisa, ‘and surprise ‒ who do you think is taking little Ears, Noses, and Throats this afternoon? Dear John.’

  ‘Oh, no! What’s wrong with Mr Dulain?’

  ‘In St Martha’s hospital, Nurse Snow,’ she said sternly, ‘senior nurses never mention a doctor’s name without curtseying. Let us have a little more respect around this establishment!’

  Mrs Jenks, who seemed to be an old friend of Lisa’s, shook with laughter, and said that Nurse Smith was a proper caution the way she carried on.

  ‘Talk about laugh ‒ Nurse!’

  Lisa said she was known as the Sunshine of St Joseph’s. ‘But how are the legs, Mrs Jenks? Still letting you run races on the underground, I hear.’

  I excused myself and went back to my room, which was now almost full. I had just time to take over from the pro who had been organising the ranks, when the S.S.O. arrived and comparative peace settled in the large room.

  The children, unlike the adults in the neighbouring room, felt no inhibitions at the sight of our uniforms, the men’s white coats, or the scent of ether and wet plaster that always hung around O.P.s. They had all been patients in Christian or Margaret ‒ the other large children’s ward ‒ and regarded their follow-up clinics as a social occasion. They hailed each other and us in loud voices, exchanged comic papers and sweets, talked, laughed, and often fought, with a total disregard of their admonishing mammas. ‘Hush now, Janet ‒ whatever’ll the Nurse think of you ‒?’ They were also expert at recognising the different professional stratas. ‘She’s not a staff nurse, Mum ‒ she wears a blue belt, ’cause she’s fourth-year!’