A Sister's Life: The ups and downs of life as a 1950s Theatre Sister (Nurse Jane Grant Book 3)

by Jane Grant

  It got very hot in the corridor; the windows were all open and the sun poured in. An old man with a yellow face, in a hospital dressing-gown, appeared on the lawn from the direction of the Men’s Medical Ward. He was stumbling along as fast as he could go towards the boundary of the hospital grounds.

  ‘He wants to go ’ome,’ said Grannie Weedon.

  A nurse could be seen hurrying in pursuit; she caught up with him a few yards from where the patients from B2 were sitting.

  ‘Come on, Dad.’

  ‘Going down the end,’ he muttered.

  ‘You can’t get out there, Dad,’ said the nurse, not in the least deceived. ‘There’s a fence. Come on, back now, to the ward.’

  Staff Nurse Copley came out of the glass door and took his arm on the other side. Both nurses urged coaxingly; ‘Come on, Dad,’ and tried to turn him round, but he resisted with all his feeble power.

  ‘Why don’t they let ’im go ’ome?’ said Grannie.

  Staff Nurse Copley stopped tugging and looked smilingly into his face.‘You want to go for a walk, Dad?’

  ‘Yes, nurse. A walk. I was going for a walk.’

  ‘That’s right, Dad. A nice walk. You take us for a nice walk.’

  Still talking, they got him turned round, and across the grass and through the door towards his ward.

  The patients in the corridor watched silently, with varying thoughts, according to their natures and situations. Some felt pity, some indignation for the deception, some admiration for the adroitness of the nurses. On Grannie Weedon’s cheeks were two large tears that rolled down without her doing anything about it.

  The lawn was emptying; from the distance came announcements from the loudspeaker about raffle tickets and lost children, and at last the final one; ‘Will you all please put papers in the baskets provided, not throw them on the grass.’

  At last the hard-working nurses came to push all the patients back to bed. After the heat of the corridor it was deliciously cool and peaceful in the end ward. The four patients lay quietly, now and again indulging in a little desultory conversation.

  ‘My poor husband,’ said Mrs Berrymore. ‘I do feel a heel. My leg was hurting and I took it out on him.’

  ‘What did you think of my son?’ asked the Mum. ‘He come right over from the other side of London today. No ‒ I’m not going to him Sat’day ‒ I’m going to my daughter’s, she lives just up the road from me.’

  ‘I told my husband these grapes weren’t as good as the last. They aren’t either, he must have got them in the market. But I do wish I hadn’t said anything.’

  ‘You going home Sat’day, dear?’ asked old Mrs Rowbotham for the tenth time. ‘I’m going to my son’s first.’

  ‘We’re all going home on Saturday.’

  ‘Home. Home. I just can’t believe it.’

  ‘They’ve looked after us well here,’ said Mrs Rowbotham. ‘They been good to us.’

  ‘I wish I was going straight home,’ said the Mum. ‘Whenever I goes to my daughter’s I upsets her. Wish I didn’t speak so quick.’

  ‘You married, dear?’ asked Mrs Rowbotham of Mrs Berrymore, again for the tenth time.

  ‘Yes, Gran. I’ve got a baby boy of two.’

  ‘You got just the one? People don’t have the families they used to. I’ve had nine, seven living. Your baby miss you, I expect.’

  ‘Yes, he does. He was quite ill at first.’

  ‘Oh dear, now. There’s one will be glad to see you back.’

  Nurse Kerrigan now appeared to take names for next morning, when the chaplain came round with Communion. ‘You want Communion, Gran?’

  ‘No, dear, I saw the lady with the Shop and she give me three.’

  ‘Communion, Gran? You want Communion?’

  Gran still did not grasp the question. ‘Put her down,’ said Mrs Berrymore. ‘You know she always does.’

  Nurse wrote all their names down on a list and departed. Mrs Berrymore and Mrs McKie began discussing the hairdresser. ‘Yours looks nice this time.’ ‘She hasn’t done it quite high enough up.’

  Grannie was talking about her childhood to the Mum.

  ‘Used to be sent down in the ’ayfield to me old gran’father with ’is drink and ’is dinner. ’E’d say to me, You like a bit o’ pudding then? and I’d say, No thank you, Gran’father, I’ve ’ad mine. So ’ed say, all right then, my little old girl.’

  ‘There now,’ said the Mum. ‘We were happier, those old times, I shouldn’t wonder, than with all we got now.’

  The evening faded, and there came up over the willows and copper beeches on the boundary a really wonderful sky. One side of it was bright blue, with floating white clouds. The other side began to build up into the replica of a harbour with sea and cliffs behind, all etched in silver grey. As they watched, the clouds shifted, and the whole area turned into a pinky-grey bank, below a silver-grey sky.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The weekend of the fête I was on duty in theatre, but as it was a Saturday and I had already spent the morning cleaning and changing the sterile dishes, at about four o’clock I went down to Mary’s ward for a cup of tea.

  Mary’s office was very comfortable and pleasant looking, with a couple of easy chairs as well as the hard ones at the official desk. On the windowsill was a large glass bowl filled with roses, from which drifted a delicious scent. On the wall was a Murillo reproduction in colour, and on the narrow shelf running round the wall were some pretty Wedgwood ornaments.

  I asked after old Mrs Maitland. ‘Oh, she’s quietened down a lot,’ said Mary. ‘I think I’ve beaten the poor old thing down at last.’

  ‘Has Maitland been down today to see her?’

  ‘Yes, they had a session after lunch. They each rub the other up the wrong way. It must be very trying for them.’

  ‘It’s rather sad really,’ I said. This was the first time the thought had come to me with any force.

  ‘I felt sorry for Maitland yesterday,’ said Mary. ‘She looked so ground down, with an enormous lot of jobs to do for Mother. And on her way she must have run into Camden, because Susie heard them talking in the sterilizing room.’

  ‘Poor thing. Will she ever see that her passion is hopeless?’

  ‘Well, that’s the point. I think she has seen it. Susie was sorting laundry next door, and from what she could gather there was some talk of a scandal about Camden taking out a young girl. I wondered if it was Rhona?’

  ‘What was said?’

  ‘She only heard bits and pieces, but Maitland was saying with a titter that he would be in trouble as a cradle snatcher. Camden asked haughtily what did she mean? Susie said he sounded furious. Then Maitland back-pedalled as hard as she could, and said she was sorry, she thought it was common knowledge. Then he stormed off apparently, and Maitland came out a couple of minutes later looking like a ghost.’

  “What a fool the woman is!’

  ‘But, Jane,’ said Mary doubtfully, ‘do you honestly think it’s a good thing? Rhona and Camden, I mean.’

  ‘He would be an awful handful for her, I should think. Anyway, I don’t think personally that anything will come of it.’

  ‘I expect the attraction is that she’s a bit different from most of the girls who chase him?’

  ‘She’s very naive. I think the way Don’s behaving is making her take it seriously. If he didn’t make such a hoo-ha about it, the affair would probably just die away naturally.’

  ‘Jane ‒ has Don rung you up?’

  ‘Not since the night you put him on my track at Copley’s,’ I said with an attempt at lightness. ‘He flew off the handle then, and I’m just waiting for him to get back on.’

  ‘I think you’re silly. Why don’t you ring him?’

  ‘Oh no. Let him come to his senses and ring me.’

  ‘He may not, you know,’ said Mary thoughtfully.

  In spite of feeling rather a pang, I managed to say airily; ‘Maybe.’ Mary then suggested that we should do our duty by goin
g round the stalls.

  We threaded our way through the trestle tables, managing not to buy a number of useless things; obtained the proper number of raffle tickets, and collected some jam and groceries. Arriving at the New Stall, we found Sister Sadd on duty.

  ‘You’ve arrived just as you’re needed,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to take something down to the ward. Stay on guard will you ‒ and mind you sell those dreadful embroidered cushion covers.’

  ‘Crumbs. I’m not that good a saleswoman,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, they’re just terrible, aren’t they?’ said Sadd, smiling in a kindly way. ‘But that dear old love in the corner of the ward worked so hard at them, I must tell her they fetched a good price.’

  By that time all the best of the goods on the stalls had been sold, and the customers were thinning out. Mary went to help Home Sister clear her stall, and I remained for some time unable to attract a single sale.

  I saw Camden walking in my direction. He paused at the stall, and I immediately offered to sell him a set of egg cosies, a nightdress covered with pink bows, or a crinoline lady to cover his telephone. But seeing that my witticisms about the latter were falling flat, I looked into his face and saw that he was white and angry.

  ‘I must say,’ he said slowly and vehemently, ‘when you do a job you do it thoroughly.’

  Still not quite with him, I replied that I liked to give satisfaction, but he broke in; ‘Was it necessary to retail to Maitland and the whole of the theatre staff that my car broke down the other night?’

  ‘What?’ I asked stupidly.

  ‘It happened to be true, of course. But a corny excuse like that doesn’t exactly give me a name for originality, does it?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t tell anybody.’

  ‘Well ‒ who did then?’ he asked accusingly.

  ‘How the heck do I know? Next time I shouldn’t have a row with her brother on the hospital doorstep. You know what the grapevine is like.’

  There was a slight pause. He said in a different tone. ‘I’m sorry, Jane. My immediate reaction was that it must be you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said briefly.

  ‘Well ‒ I’ve said I’m sorry. How’s Don?’

  ‘I haven’t seen him since.’

  ‘Oh ‒ come.’ He gave a quick smile. ‘I’ve never ceased to be amazed,’ he said, ‘at the havoc an innocent flirtation can cause. Anywhere else one can get away with three divorces and ten seductions. But in hospital ‒ no.’

  ‘And that’s what it is, is it?’ I asked, arranging and rearranging the articles on the stall. ‘Just an innocent flirtation?’

  ‘Good Lord, yes,’ he said in genuine surprise. “What else could it be?’

  ‘Girls like that, you know,’ I said, feeling angry on behalf of Rhona, ‘don’t flit in and out of romances. They probably take things seriously.’

  ‘I’m sorry if that’s so. Well ‒ all that’s left to me is to bow out as gracefully as possible.’

  ‘And not before time.’

  He seemed about to walk away, but he turned back to say reasonably; ‘Honestly, Jane, this has just built up out of all proportion ‒’ then, on an elderly couple approaching the stall with the evident intention of making a purchase, he gave up and walked off.

  As the old couple tried conscientiously to find something not utterly useless to buy, in the meantime telling me of their experiences in the hospital, and how good Sister and Nurse had been, and what clever doctors there were here, and wasn’t that one of the chief surgeons who had just gone off ‒ I wondered what the effect of Camden’s defection would be on Rhona, and still more, on Don.

  When I had got rid of my customers, Sadd came back, followed by Rhona, with Teddy behind her carrying her parcels. Rhona was looking agitated and unhappy.

  ‘I’m sorry to have kept you, love,’ said Sadd. ‘I ran into Wood and we had a long talk about the raffle. Would you believe it, she wants me to take round those blooming dressed dolls again on my half-day!’

  Teddy came up. ‘Well, now you’ve made your apologies, Sister, how about mopping me down? You promised.’

  ‘That’s what comes of being Sir Galahad,’ said Sadd. ‘Come behind the stall then, I’ll find a cloth or something. Look, Jane, he went to help Rhona, and got pickles all down his coat! What a hero, eh?’

  ‘I only bought them for something to buy,’ said Rhona crossly. ‘Would you like to try and sell them again to some mug?’

  ‘Mug’s the word,’ said Teddy. ‘They’re covered with grass.’

  ‘Come along,’ said Sadd busily. We’ll use one of these lovely floor cloths. Knitted by poor old Mr Blowers, my dears, he drops more stitches than he knits. It’s the last resort of the OT for him ‒ but poor old boy, he does love to be useful.’

  ‘Didn’t he break the OT’s weaving frame?’ I asked.

  ‘Tell you the truth, he’s broken most of her equipment. Dear old man, remember when he tried to mend your stethoscope?’ she asked Teddy, as she mopped him down. ‘That day on the ward?’

  ‘I remember. It worked quite well before you let him have it.’

  While they were talking, Rhona came close to me and said in a low tone; ‘Weren’t you talking to Peter?’

  ‘He was here for a minute,’ I said awkwardly.

  ‘D’you know where he went?’ She gave a sort of forced laugh. ‘He half said something about our having tea.’

  ‘I thought he’d left,’ I said. “Look, why don’t you come back with me? I’m just going to change my apron.’

  ‘All right.’

  We moved away, and Teddy called after us; ‘Are you going to see your mother?’

  ‘I’m going there later,’ said Rhona.

  ‘I might see you then.’

  ‘Well, don’t bother to wait,’ she said discouragingly.

  We walked across the lawn, skirted the buildings and then took a short cut to the Nurses’ Home through the wood. It was cool and quiet under the tall chestnut and fir trees, and I sat against a tree trunk on some pine needles and suggested a cigarette. I had another half an hour before I needed to get back to the theatre.

  Rhona asked abruptly; ‘What’s happened to you and Don? Have you had a row?’

  ‘Not really. I haven’t seen him much lately. He knows where I am and can find me if he wants.’

  Rhona laughed rather harshly. ‘So does Peter. He knows I’m here this afternoon. He seems to be avoiding me.’

  I said carefully, ‘Well, you don’t know, perhaps it’s a good thing,’ to which she replied fiercely, ‘What do you mean ‒ it’s a good thing?’

  I trod gingerly on the thin ice. ‘Well, you know, these surgeons ‒’

  ‘What d’you mean ‒ these surgeons?’

  ‘I’m sure he’s trying to do what’s best for you.’

  She flushed and grew suddenly tense. ‘What’s best? I know what’s best, Jane. I love him. I think he loves me too a bit.’

  I said nothing. After a moment it all came out in a torrent. ‘When the fan belt broke we were on the common. The car kept going a little way and then stopping. He got out and gave the wheel a kick and swore, and I started laughing. Then he got in beside me and put his arm round me and we talked about everything. There didn’t seem to be any barriers. He told me about his first wife, and how it happened. Oh well, we got so close. I told him how my pony Bramble broke his leg and had to be shot, and it was all my fault because I made him jump and he didn’t want to jump, he knew the ground was too soft. And I kicked with my heel to make him because Clive Borley was watching. And he jumped because he wanted to please me. It was so awful. And Peter said, that’s the sort of thing that happens to everybody. And I said how I couldn’t forget it, and he said the only way you can go on living is to be sorry and then forget. And he said it had happened to him lots of times. So we sat there for ages and nobody came by. We thought we saw a fox and Peter said “It took off like a bomb when it saw we weren’t a henhouse.” Then he
stopped a lorry and got a message to a garage. And when he got back in the car he kissed me. It was wonderful. We were so close. I didn’t want it ever to stop. And I thought it wouldn’t. And then when we got back, Don was waiting and he spoilt it all. So I’ve simply got to see him today.’

  There was a slight pause. ‘I didn’t realize,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry, Rhona.’

  I let her cry for a little while without speaking. When I heard somebody coming along the path, I suggested we went to my room where we could be quiet. But the next minute I saw it was Don coming. Rhona saw him too, and turned her back to him, standing with her head a little bent.

  He took in the scene. ‘I saw you come along here,’ he said.

  ‘We were just going to my room.’

  ‘How about going and having a cup of tea?’

  We turned round and walked back through the wood and towards the canteen. We didn’t speak for a while, there seemed to be too much that couldn’t be said. Then Don muttered, ‘It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, and there was another silence.

  He held the door open for us, and said looking at Rhona, ‘A cup of tea is a pretty good tranquillizer.’ I smiled, this seemed to me a typical Don remark.

  The canteen was by now almost empty. We went and sat at a table in a corner, and Rhona looked in her mirror and began to tidy herself, while Don went to the counter.

  ‘Good old Don and his cups of tea,’ I observed.

  ‘He thinks that puts everything right.’

  ‘He doesn’t really. But he wants to help. Don’t reject him.’

  ‘Everything was all right,’ she said resentfully, ‘till he and Daddy started in.’

  There was a pause. ‘No it wasn’t,’ I said. ‘Don’t think it was, Rhona, because it’ll only make it worse.’

  She turned very white. ‘What do you mean? What do you know about it? Is there something you haven’t told me?’

  Don was now approaching the table, trying to carry cups of tea. I said quickly, ‘Well, I think you know really, don’t you?’