‘I’d like to speak to you, if you don’t mind, Dr Nestor,’ Sister said, not taking her eyes from Bridget. ‘You will wait for me, please – outside the ward,’ and meekly, David nodded, and with a quick glance at Bridget, slid out of the little group and went to the door. As it swished shut behind him, Night Sister said to Bridget, ‘Where is your Junior?’
‘In – in the kitchen, Sister – laying the trolleys for – ’
Night Sister pushed the kitchen door open, and called the junior out. ‘Go into the ward, Nurse,’ she said curtly, ‘and stay there until I tell you what to do,’ and with a startled look at the dishevelled Bridget, the junior scuttled into the dimness of the big ward.
‘Now, Nurse, come in here. Tidy yourself up at once.’
Under Night Sister’s icy-blue gaze, Bridget started to tidy her uniform, to set her crumpled cap back on her head, and when she had managed to make some semblance of order, stood still to wait for the onslaught of Night Sister’s tongue.
There was a long pause, and then Night Sister said, her voice thin with controlled anger, ‘Now, perhaps, you can offer some explanation of that disgraceful scene?’
Bridget took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. She was shaking with reaction, with tears very near the surface, and for one ghastly moment, as she opened and closed her mouth, she thought she wouldn’t be able to speak at all.
‘He – he was smoking,’ she managed at last. ‘Smoking. And there’s a tent up. I was frightened. And he wouldn’t – he wouldn’t put it out. I had to make him put it out – there was oxygen –’
‘Well? That still doesn’t explain what I saw, does it?’
‘He wouldn’t put it out,’ Bridget said desperately. ‘He just wouldn’t. And – and when I took it away from him, he – he –’ but she couldn’t go on.
‘Is Dr Nestor a friend of yours?’ There was a world of scorn in the way Night Sister said the word ‘friend’, a scorn that made Bridget squirm sickly. A friend of hers? How could she possibly explain the relationship that existed between her and David, the unwillingness she felt towards that relationship, the reasons for its continued existence? She couldn’t. All she could say was, ‘A – sort of friend, I suppose – a sort of friend.’
‘I can imagine what sort,’ and now Sister was really sneering. ‘I can well imagine. However, that is no concern of mine. You can explain the rest to Matron in the morning. In the meantime, since you are clearly not to be trusted in charge of a ward, you had better spend the rest of the night in Casualty where Staff Nurse can keep an eye on you, and I will send someone else here. And you will go to Matron as soon as you are off duty in the morning, do you understand? Go to Casualty now, and ask Staff Nurse to send Nurse Jessolo here to take over from you. And keep out of my sight for the rest of the night. I don’t want to see you – you make me sick!’ and she held the kitchen door open for Bridget to pass her.
Outside the ward, David was leaning against the wall, obediently waiting for Night Sister, and as Bridget went past him, he put a hand out to stop her. But she looked at him with such anger, such loathing in her face, that even he, unperceptive as he was, dropped his hand in confusion, and let her go.
The rest of the night dragged for Bridget. A curious Night Staff Nurse, down in Casualty, tried to get her to explain why she had been banished from her ward. But Bridget only shook her head, and refused to talk, which annoyed the Staff Nurse enough to make her send Bridget to the sluice to spend the long, dark hours cleaning equipment and making dressings ready to be packed in the big drums for the morning.
There were not even any accidents during the night to break the monotony, to keep the department and Bridget busy, so she had nothing to keep her thoughts from their sick repetition of anger, of fear and a sort of shame. She knew perfectly well that it had been David’s fault that the whole thing had happened. He had been drunk, and behaved outrageously. But part of her mind kept reminding her that he would never have behaved so if it had not been for the relationship between them, the memory of the hours she had spent necking with him. He had every right to expect her to behave as badly as he had himself, she told herself miserably. Every right.
The long night came to an end at last, and Bridget dragged her aching and miserable body to Night Nurses’ supper at nine in the morning, to sit next to the other three, trying to eat the cold meat pie and boiled potatoes and cabbage the hospital provided for this dull meal. Already, she discovered, everyone on night duty knew what had happened. The junior on the male medical ward had overheard Night Sister talking to David, after Bridget’s departure for Casualty, and had lost no time in recounting – not without embellishment – the details of the whole sordid business as she knew it.
Bobby was highly amused by it all, though Liz was sympathetic. Judith, as usual, simply followed Bobby’s lead, and laughed at Bridget’s misery with her.
‘Oh, come off it, Bridie!’ Bobby said at length, staring at Bridget over the rim of her coffee cup as they finished their meal. ‘Why all the glummery? So you got copped having a quiet snog – you aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last. Matron’ll give you a bit of a nagging, and that’ll be that! No need to behave as though the world had come to an end! Cheer up, love!’
‘Oh, leave her alone, Bobby,’ Liz said, uncomfortably, looking at Bridget as she sat slumped dumbly in her chair, her untouched food in front of her. ‘I’d be scared too. You know what a tongue Matron’s got – and I bet it wasn’t Bridget’s fault, anyway – was it, Bridie?’
Bridget looked up at her and said quietly, ‘No it wasn’t –’ and she warmed to Liz, managing a smile at the friendly face across the table.
And then, it was time to go to Matron’s Office. She stood outside the door, hearing the faint sound of Night Sister’s voice inside as she gave the night report, seeing the morning bustle about her with unseeing eyes, but aware of the incongruity of the Christmas decorations that bedecked the long corridor, of the chilliness of the wintry morning.
Night Sister came out of the office, and stood back, grimfaced and tight-lipped, to let Bridget go in, and summoning all the strength she had, Bridget walked across the carpeted floor to stand in front of the big desk at the far end of the room.
Matron looked up at her, and at the sight of the pinched, white face, the misery in the big, grey eyes, much of the anger that Night Sister’s account of the night’s happenings had roused in her dissipated. She had expected to meet – dumb insolence perhaps, a perky insouciance, regret at having been caught rather than regret that the episode had happened at all. But this girl was clearly deeply unhappy, terrified, and Matron, instead of showing the anger with which she had intended to speak, smiled at Bridget, and said gently, ‘Sit down, Nurse Preston.’
Her gentleness was too much for Bridget. She stared at the older woman, and then, the tears that had been so near the surface all night at last broke bounds, and came tumbling down her face, filling her throat and nose with tight misery, so that all she could do was collapse into the proffered chair, and bury her head in shaking hands.
Matron said nothing, letting the storm subside, and gradually Bridget brought herself under control again, and wiping her eyes to a puffy redness, at last sat silent, head bowed in front of the big desk.
‘Now, Nurse Preston. Tell me what happened last night. And why it happened. Because that is what really matters.’
Bridget took a deep and shuddering breath. ‘Dr – Dr Nestor came to the ward last night,’ she began. ‘And he was smoking. I could smell it. And – there was an oxygen tent up, and I was frightened.’ She looked at the older woman who just nodded encouragingly. ‘I told Dr Nestor – about the tent – but – but’ – she wanted to say, ‘he was too drunk to care – too drunk’ but this was impossible. For all her anger towards David, she knew that to say he was drunk and came to a ward would get him into very severe trouble indeed, and a streak of loyalty in her made it impossible to pile any more on to David than she had to. So she said, ‘I
– I don’t think he understood – not properly. Anyway, I took it away from him, and put it out. And then – then –’
Just as when she had tried to explain to Night Sister, she balked at this point, but Matron just raised her eyebrows at her, and sat silently, clearly waiting for her to go on. So she tried again.
‘He – it was Christmas, he said.’ Perhaps the fact that it was Christmas would constitute some sort of excuse. ‘And – and he – well, he grabbed me, and – and he’ – she closed her eyes and swallowed. ‘I tried to stop him, really I did. But – he’s very strong.’ As she said it, she could feel the almost brute strength of his arms round her. ‘And when I tried to stop him – my apron got torn, and – everything. And then Night Sister came,’ her voice trailed away into silence.
Matron stirred. ‘That is what happened,’ she said at last. ‘But not why. When I talked to you a few weeks ago, when you got your second-year belt, I asked you then if you were – sensible about your private life. This episode – this shows that perhaps you are not as sensible as you might be.’
Bridget said nothing, just sitting staring at her hands clasped on her lap.
‘Look, Nurse Preston. I know perfectly well that young women like you need boy-friends. I know how much it matters to you to have a boy-friend. But let me assure you that there is no need for any girl to – put up with the attentions of a man she does not really care for just for the sake of having such a boy-friend. Do you understand what I mean?’
Bridget raised her head and looked at her. ‘I – it isn’t that I specially want to – to –’
‘There are plenty of other people around from whom you can choose friends, you know. If you don’t really care for this man, and he does not really care for you – and I can’t think that he really does, for if he did, he would never have allowed last night’s scene to happen –’
But Bridget, to her own amazement, interrupted. ‘How do you know I don’t really – like him?’ she asked wonderingly.
Matron laughed at this. ‘My dear child, I am not nearly as stupid as some of you girls think I am. I am not a Matron of a hospital like this one as – as a freak of nature, you know. I do know something about people, about their needs, and behaviours, and listening to you explain what happened last night makes it clear – to me at any rate – that this Dr Nestor is not someone for whom you care very deeply. I suspect that – that your friendship is something that happened to you, and that it is not one you sought for yourself.’
Bridget nodded miserably, ‘Yes –’ she murmured. ‘Yes.’
‘I am beginning to realise that you are a person to whom things happen, Nurse Preston. You are not – not fully in control of your life, shall we say?’
Bridget nodded again, and at the warmth in the face across the desk said breathlessly. ‘That’s exactly it, Matron, really it is. I’m – I’m not very used to people –’ She stopped, and then said with a sort of ruefulness, ‘I never really had the chance to learn how –’
Matron nodded. ‘And you let other people push you about – even get the wrong impression of you, and you do nothing about it – the Sisters think you are silent because of insolence. That you are self-absorbed. Are you?’
‘Oh, no, Matron, really I’m not,’ Bridget said eagerly. ‘I – I’m just not good at – well, explaining to people. So I don’t try. And then – then –’
‘Then they don’t try to understand you,’ Matron finished. ‘Now listen to me, Nurse Preston. You are not a child. You are a grown woman, nearly. And you must learn how to control your own life. You must not let events and people take hold of you. Do you understand that? If a particular friend seems, after you have known him for a while, to be the wrong friend for you, then do something about the situation. Don’t just drift. This time, it is all right. I can see that what happened was not entirely your fault – except inasmuch as you should have been in better control of matters than you were – so we will say no more about it. But I shall be more than disappointed in you if you allow such an episode to happen again. Do you understand? I am not going to tell you to break off a friendship if you do not want to – I have no right to do so. But if I hear that you are still drifting, as you clearly have been, I will suspect that you are not fit to continue to train at the Royal. A girl who cannot control her own life will never make a nurse. Now go to bed, and come on duty tonight ready to make a new start. I will explain matters satisfactorily to Night Sister – but it is up to you to convince her that you are to be trusted in future.’
Bridget got to her feet, smoothing her apron in front of her. ‘Thank you, Matron,’ she said. ‘Thank you –’ For a moment, she wanted to explain to Matron that it wasn’t because she just wanted to have a boy-friend that she put up with David. That it was because she needed other friends – and that without a willingness to be David’s friend, she feared that the other three would shut her out – and that it was that that mattered to her. But already Matron was reaching for the pile of paper work on her desk, and Bridget allowed her inherent diffidence to override her need to explain.
Outside the office door, she leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. The darkness behind her closed eyes swirled momentarily, and she took a deep breath before opening them.
And as she opened them, and stood straight, she saw Josh standing in front of her, his friendly face smiling a little, his head on one side as he looked at her.
‘Hello, Tiddler,’ he said gently. ‘On the carpet?’
At the sight of him, her still very shaky control slipped again, and to her horror, she found tears welling up into her eyes again. Josh’s own face altered at the sight of her distress, and with a quick movement, he took her arm, and hurried her away down the corridor.
‘Come on, Tiddler. Can’t have you weeping all over the place – come and tell your Uncle Josh all about it –’ and he led her towards the hospital coffee shop, while she tried desperately to push her tears back down inside her again.
He chattered cheerfully as he settled her at the table in the corner, giving her time to regain control, and she was grateful to him for his quick understanding. Then, when they were settled with steaming cups in front of them, he leaned forwards and smiled at her.
‘Was it that business last night the old girl was wigging you about Tiddler?’
She looked at him quickly, and then dropped her eyes to her cup.
‘Yes –’ she said in a low voice. ‘And she was right, really.’
‘David should have been shot, the idiot. He was drunk as a lord, and he shouldn’t have come anywhere near the wards in that state.’
‘I know,’ Bridget said wearily. ‘But he did.’
‘Did – did you tell the old girl he was drunk?’
She shook her head. ‘I thought there’d be a row for him if I did.’
‘You’re damn’ right there – he’d have had the book thrown at him.’ Josh looked at her sharply. ‘You’re a good lass, Tiddler. Old David doesn’t know how lucky he is, I reckon. There aren’t many who’d carry the can back like you’ve done.’
She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, and suddenly felt desperately weary. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘But he is lucky,’ Josh said softly, and put a hand out towards her. ‘Any man with a girl like you to care for him is lucky, you know that?’
She looked up at him, at the face that was so achingly familiar, and all the feeling she had for him suddenly bubbled up inside her so that her mouth trembled, and her eyes brimmed with tears again. She put her hands in her lap, to avoid his touch, feeling that the warmth of his hand on hers would be more than she could cope with.
‘I – I don’t care for him,’ she said baldly. ‘I – don’t. I – hate him.’
He looked at her uncertainly for a moment. ‘Hate him? I thought – you said once that – I don’t understand. You’ve been going about with him for a long time, Tiddler. Or is it just that now you’re angry with him? You’ve every
right to be.’
‘I – it was –’ She took a deep breath. ‘It just happened. I never did specially care for him. Not really. He was – just one of the crowd.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Bridget!’ He sounded angry suddenly. ‘Don’t tell me you just went around with a man out of habit – I don’t believe it. Some girls would – but you?’
‘Well, it’s true.’ She hated herself then, hated her own weakness. ‘The others – they got mad if I said I didn’t want to go out with David – so I did. That’s all there ever was to it. I never want to see him again – and I don’t care what the others say. I just don’t care –’
‘Did it matter so much to you?’ he asked curiously. ‘What the other girls said?’
‘I never – I never had friends before them,’ Bridget said softly, ‘and they were such fun, and so gay – I – I wanted to be like them. But – well, I was wrong. I’m just not like them, and I never will be. I – I guess they’ll have to take me as I am. If they don’t like me that way, that’s all there is to it.’
He sat in silence for a moment. Then he said gently, ‘Tiddler – tell me something. If you don’t care for David Nestor, is there anyone else you care about? Anyone at all?’
She looked up at him, at his warm smile, at the deep clefts in his cheeks, and every fibre of her ached to say ‘Yes – yes. I care for you – for you.’ The words trembled on her lips for a brief second and then, across the crowded coffee shop, she saw Bobby appear at the door, her fair hair swinging over the thick sweater and tight trousers she had changed into.
The words died unspoken, and she sat in silence as Bobby saw them, and came swinging over towards them.
‘Hello, Bridie, my love. Hello, Josh, my angel,’ and she dropped a casual kiss on to Josh’s head as she slid into the vacant chair beside them. ‘So what happened, Bridie? Did the old girl have your guts for garters? Old David had a hell of a pasting from Night Sister. She threatened to tell the Chief of Staff all about his wicked ways, but he persuaded her to show a little of the milk of human kindness – poor old David – he’s feeling awful about it all this morning.’ She laughed then. ‘He’s got the father and mother of a hangover, and he’s been looking everywhere for you to apologise, and he couldn’t find you. He’s on his way to a clinic now, so he’ll have to wait to make his peace with you till later. I just met him in the courtyard.’
The Lonely One Page 9
