The Angels of Lovely Lane

by Nadine Dorries

  ‘It is not an exaggeration to say that as a new probationary nurse you are on the bottom of the pile, I’m afraid,’ Mrs Duffy had told them, ‘and you will spend most of your early days in the sluice room cleaning out bedpans. Bedpan rounds are every two hours, so just as you finish cleaning up after one another comes along. I’ve had some girls come back here at night in tears, unable to face food and complaining they can’t shake the smell off. They don’t last long. Usually gone before the year is out, so don’t any of you fall into that trap. Just grit your teeth and remember nothing is ever as bad as it seems, and I’ve heard it all. There isn’t one gruesome detail I haven’t had described to me about bedpans, I can assure you.’

  When Mrs Duffy said this, Victoria almost heaved.

  ‘Come along, Nurse Baker. You are the daughter of a lord, aren’t you? You should be made of stronger stuff than that. It will be your job to show a stiff upper lip to the others.’

  Victoria racked her brains to make sense of why she, the eighteen-year-old daughter of a hereditary peer, should be made of stronger stuff than anyone else. If anything, she was the most terrified of them all.

  Until recently, she had never cleaned her own toilet or washed her clothes and had not even contemplated the prospect of cleaning out a bedpan. In the circles Victoria had moved in at home, no one ever discussed such things. She had known that many patients spent a long time in bed recovering from illness and surgery, but it had never occurred to her that clearing away the products of a bowel evacuation would be her responsibility.

  ‘You had another telephone call from home last night. Was it your aunt again?’ Mrs Duffy was never nosy, but always chatty, which sometimes amounted to the same thing.

  Victoria almost bent over with embarrassment. She did not want to lie to Mrs Duffy, but in recent weeks hardly an evening had gone by without a call from Roland via the pay phone that was situated on the wall in the laundry room. She had received a number of demanding letters from her Aunt Minnie, too, who seemed incapable of understanding that Victoria could not come and go as she pleased. Anyone would think you were in a nunnery, she had written.

  What Victoria didn’t mention to anyone, not even Aunt Minnie, was the alarming letter she had received from Roland.

  I have been dismissed from handling the affairs of Baker Hall, he had told her. Your aunt has instructed a large firm from Manchester. It is a bit of a blow, I don’t mind admitting. Doesn’t bode well for me locally. Victoria paced her room as she read this. ‘Why? Why?’ she said out loud. She didn’t really need to ask; she knew the answer. It was Aunt Minnie’s way. She had to be the one who was in charge. The decider and the controller. Please don’t tell them at home that I have written to you, but when it is time to visit, let me know and I shall collect you from the station and we can talk.

  Without a second’s hesitation, Victoria had gone straight to the phone box on the corner of Lovely Lane and called Roland. Without even knowing it, Aunt Minnie had brought them closer together. Now, the most difficult part of telephone conversations with Aunt Minnie was not letting slip that she knew everything that was happening back at Baker Hall.

  Victoria could not wait to see Roland again. With every day that passed and every telephone conversation they became closer and closer. She wanted to see Roland far more than she did her Aunt Minnie, who had telephoned Victoria the previous evening demanding that she return for a week. Victoria had explained to her that it was impossible. ‘I have my PTS exam in a few weeks, Aunt Minnie. I can’t just come and go as I please.’

  ‘Well, that is just ridiculous. She says she can’t come, Gerald. What? What shall I tell her? Your father says it’s not a prison, Victoria, you must be able to get away sometimes. They aren’t the bloody Japs. Life is not easy here, Victoria, I can tell you. Gerald, will you shut up. I cannot hear her. Victoria, your father wants to see you. He wants you to come home. He’s not happy, what with everything as it is. Can’t you come for a visit, dear?’

  ‘I honestly can’t, not until my PTS exam is over. Please understand that. It really is very important.’

  ‘What I don’t understand, Victoria, is why with so much happening here you have taken yourself off to bloody Liverpool, of all places, to prance around like this. Gerald, WILL YOU SHUT UP!’

  Victoria heard the telephone receiver click back into place.

  ‘It was Aunt Minnie, Mrs Duffy,’ she said now. ‘She would like me to visit home, but I told her I can’t. Not until after my exams.’

  ‘Well, you will be going straight on to the wards as soon as the exam results are known. It could be a while before you have time to visit home. Best wait until we know what your ward off-duty will be.’

  Victoria could barely hide her disappointment, but it was Roland she wanted to see, not Aunt Minnie. She was desperate to see Roland again. The man who had made her feel safe as her world fell apart. ‘Of course, Mrs Duffy.’

  ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. There’s another letter for you.’ Mrs Duffy took an envelope out of her apron pocket.

  Victoria removed the clips from her hair and took off her cap before lying on her bed to savour the contents of the letter. She had recognized the handwriting immediately.

  I hope you have managed to avoid my brother and keep your heart safe from him and ready for me, he wrote, only half in jest. He tells me he has seen you about the hospital looking beautiful in your uniform and I don’t mind admitting I am eaten up with jealousy.

  The truth was, being absent from Baker Hall had made her very sure that Roland had already won her heart. His brother Teddy could be the next Laurence Olivier, but he did nothing for her. Roland had lit a torch somewhere within her and nothing Teddy could say or do would alter that. She had told none of the girls anything about Roland. For now, he was her secret and she would keep it that way.

  * * *

  It was Sunday evening and the results of the PTS exam were due to be delivered to the nurses’ home.

  The girls waited nervously in the hallway for Mrs Duffy to return from Matron’s office with the announcements and a list informing the new nurses which ward they had been allocated for their first placement.

  ‘Oh my God, was there anything ever as bad as this,’ groaned Pammy, who was sitting on the stairs.

  ‘Will you move away from the window, Nurse Harper,’ Dana snapped. ‘Looking out won’t make Mrs Duffy get here any quicker.’ It was unusual for Dana to snap at anyone and the assembled girls fell silent, until Pammy, who could never keep quiet, chirped up once more.

  ‘Oh, God, I can’t wait to know which ward I’m on, never mind the results. I feel so nervous I want to be sick. Just think, tomorrow, if we have all passed, we will all be proper nurses.’

  Lizzie burst in from a holiday at home, allowing a fierce wind to blow down the hall, and as she opened the front door, they all shrieked.

  ‘Oh, it’s you! We thought it was Mrs Duffy with the results list,’ Pammy told her.

  ‘Are your twelve weeks up already?’ said Lizzie, amazed. ‘Golly, that went quickly.’

  ‘For you, maybe,’ said Dana. ‘Feels to me like the longest twelve weeks in my life, ever.’ She meant it.

  The routine of the classroom had become more difficult as they entered their last week of training and the prospect of being set free on the wards for a month, to learn the more practical skills and to nurse real patients, came tantalizingly close.

  ‘I’m not sure whether I am nervous or excited,’ said Victoria. ‘I have a funny feeling in my tummy and I know I am not going to sleep tonight, no matter how much Horlicks Mrs Duffy forces down me.’

  ‘You will all be fine,’ said Lizzie, smiling. ‘Just as long as you all pass and none of you are sent to ward two and Sister Antrobus, you’ll survive.’

  The girls had all heard the name Sister Antrobus. Her reputation was fearsome. It was legendary both in the school of nursing and on Lovely Lane. ‘Pick your faces up off the floor, nurses,’ Lizzie continued. ‘I have heard t
hat so many girls have dropped out after being allocated to that ward, they aren’t going to place any more new nurses on ward two. They are going to save her for the hardened third years. I have a feeling it will be my placement before finals.’

  She picked up her suitcase and began to hump it up the stairs. ‘My mother has sent me back with the most ginormous fruit cake. I’ll just unpack and then I’ll put it on the night drinks trolley, if any of you fancy a slice.’

  Just as Lizzie turned the bend on the stairs, the door opened once more and this time the girls fell silent. Mrs Duffy stood in front of them and to their surprise she was accompanied by Sister Haycock and Sister Ryan. ‘Hello, Sister,’ they all said at once.

  ‘Evening, nurses,’ said Sister Haycock brightly. ‘I thought I would pop in to deliver the news. I remember what a dreadful time it is waiting for the results.’

  No one spoke a word. Dana licked her lips. Victoria thought that if Sister Haycock didn’t get a move on, there was a chance she might faint. Beth beamed with a self-assured confidence.

  ‘Matron is responsible for the ward placements, and you have all done so well over the past twelve weeks that I thought I would like to break the news to you myself.’ Still no one spoke as Sister Haycock unbuttoned her coat and hung it on the hat stand.

  ‘Any chance of a cup of hot chocolate, Mrs Duffy? And maybe one of your biscuits,’ asked Sister Ryan. Her stomach always came first.

  ‘There is. Honestly, these nurses, a nervous wreck they all are. They’ve got me all of a dither, panicking all day they’ve been. ’Tis a mystery why Matron makes them wait until Sunday night for the results, is it not? Anyone would think they were awaiting a death sentence, not their first ward placements.’

  ‘I’ll put you all out of your misery in just a second,’ said Sister Haycock. ‘Nurse Harper, run and put the kettle on for Mrs Duffy. We shall all need a drink after this, if I’m not mistaken.’

  Beth could not erase the smile from her face. She adored being given extra responsibility and had quickly become Mrs Duffy’s little helper. ‘I already have, Sister. It’s simmering now,’ she preened.

  Undoing the knot of her green paisley headscarf and shaking the raindrops on to the floor, Sister Haycock laid the scarf over the mahogany hat stand and moved towards the hall fire.

  ‘Well, it looks as though no one is going to allow me to sit down until they know their fate, so here goes.’ There were sharp gasps from the girls as they grabbed hold of each other’s hands. Emily pulled the envelope out of her handbag while Beth scooped up a chair and slid it behind her and Celia, with a sickly grin, slipped one behind Sister Ryan. Beth had beaten her again and Celia was annoyed.

  To make matters worse, Mrs Duffy gave Beth an approving smile from the doorway before turning her attention to Dana.

  ‘Nurse Brogan, have you been to mass today?’ she asked.

  Dana blinked like a rabbit in the headlights. Sister Haycock opened the envelope and looked at Dana, waiting for her to reply before she began to read out the results. ‘Only, I have to write back to your mother tonight.’ Dana blushed with embarrassment until her face was the same colour as her hair. She wanted to scream. How could her mammy have interrupted this of all moments?

  ‘Yes, Mrs Duffy,’ she replied in an exasperated tone, and whispered to Pammy, ‘I knew my mother would find a way into Lovely Lane.’

  Sister Haycock began to speak.

  ‘Nurses, I am absolutely delighted to inform you—’

  Sister Ryan pushed a plate in front of the letter and cut her off. ‘Try one of these millionaire’s shortbreads,’ she said. ‘Mrs Duffy made them this afternoon as a special treat. They’re sublime. Go on, have one.’ Sister Ryan winked at Emily, but no one saw her as all eyes were fixed on the letter in Emily’s hand.

  ‘Oh, thank you. I don’t mind if I do.’ Emily reached out and took a shortbread from the plate. ‘Oh, yes. Mrs Duffy, they are delicious.’ Crumbs fell from the shortbread on to the letter as she nibbled at the biscuit and made a slight rattling sound as they hit the paper. ‘Can I have a hot chocolate too, please? It’s always such a treat to come here, isn’t it, Sister Ryan?’

  ‘Are you for real?’ This was from Pammy, who could contain herself no longer. Emily began to giggle.

  ‘I am, Nurse Tanner, and so are you, a real nurse. Every one of you passed your PTS, and Nurse Harper, you have won the course prize for attainment. You got top marks in the exam.’

  Mrs Duffy appeared carrying a tray filled with small glasses of dark brown liquid.

  ‘I checked with Sister Haycock first and she said it was quite in order for a celebratory glass of sherry. It’s not always the case that everyone gets through. Isn’t that right, Sister? What a lovely night this is.’

  Mrs Duffy placed the tray on the table.

  ‘Go on, help yourselves, you are all proper nurses now, fancy that.’

  For the following ten minutes, the Lovely Lane home was filled with the sound of excited chatter, congratulations for Beth, and the clink of glasses as everyone tucked into the celebratory millionaire’s shortbread and the sweet sherry.

  ‘Well, now we have to see who has been placed where,’ said Emily at last, opening yet another envelope. ‘Ward one, Nurse Baker, female medical, Sister Prior. Ward two, Nurse Tanner, gynaecological, Sister Antrobus.’ There was a sharp intake of breath as the girls all turned to Pammy. None was paler than Sister Haycock herself, who looked as though she might faint.

  ‘But, Sister Haycock, Nurse Lewis said no new nurses would be placed on ward two because so many had left before...’ Pammy’s voice tailed away in despair.

  Sister Ryan came to the rescue and saved her from having to finish the sentence.

  ‘Well, I’m quite sure I have no idea where Nurse Lewis got that idea from,’ she said. ‘These third years seem to think they know what colour bloomers I’m wearing these days. I will admit that there was some gossip about only third years being placed on ward two, but Matron has clearly rejected the idea.’ Just at that moment, the kettle whistled deafeningly. ‘Right, come on then, let’s away to the kitchen to hear the rest. Let’s not have the drinks late tonight. It’ll be an early night for all of you if you know what’s good for you.’ As ever, Sister Ryan was keen to finish the biscuits. ‘Next week will be one of the hardest of your life and we want you all to do well. Nursing is a vocation, not a job.’

  Sister Haycock’s brow was furrowed and she appeared troubled. ‘That’s a very good idea, Sister Ryan.’

  Mrs Duffy led the way out of the hall, talking to Sister Ryan as she went. ‘In my experience of looking after the probationers, Sister, there is always something that has brought each nurse through this door. An experience that makes them believe they are called to be a nurse in the first place.’

  She looked across to Dana. ‘Not everyone can do the job, you know, Nurse Brogan. It takes a special kind of person. If I can give you any advice, it would be to hold on to that. To whatever it is that brought you here. Whatever difficulty you encounter, remember the reason why you chose your vocation in the first place. Come on now, drinks.’

  The nurses milled en masse into the kitchen, except for Pammy, who looked as though she would fall over her own trembling bottom lip if she moved.

  ‘Come on now, Nurse Tanner,’ said Sister Haycock. ‘It’s only Sister Antrobus, not a firing squad. She’s not that bad.’

  But Sister Haycock’s reassurances did not quite ring true. Pammy stood, terrified, with tears flooding in her eyes, the joy of having passed her PTS obliterated by the news that her placement was ward two with the dreaded Sister Antrobus. Emily wanted to put her arm round her shoulder and give her a hug, but she just could not. She was filled with anger at what Matron had done.

  ‘I have to go into the kitchen now,’ she said. ‘I need to let the others know their fate.’ She looked apologetically towards the kitchen door. Whichever ward the other girls were placed on, it would be a doddle compared to poor Nurse Tan
ner’s.

  As they huddled around the list, Dana grinned when she read that she was to be placed on ward eight, male surgical.

  ‘Lucky you,’ said Pammy. ‘I would give anything to be on male surgical. They have charge nurses, not sisters, and Lizzie said they can be a right laugh.’

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ said Sister Ryan. ‘Nurse Harper, here is a little prize for coming first.’ She handed an envelope to Beth, while Celia Forsyth bristled. She had expected the first place honour to be hers.

  ‘Well done you,’ she said to Beth, through gritted teeth.

  ‘It’s only a book token,’ said Beth. ‘You can have it if you want.’

  ‘No, don’t be silly. It’s all yours, fair and square.’ Celia thought Beth was being ridiculous, but as she was one of her few friends, she couldn’t say so. It wasn’t the book token Celia had wanted. It was the status, and the respect, that having come top in the PTS exam would have brought her. She turned to leave the kitchen, cocoa mug in hand, heading towards the stairs and her room.

  ‘Don’t worry about Sister Antrobus,’ she said, as she brushed past Dana and Pammy. ‘She only weeds out the students who aren’t cut out to be nurses. I’ve heard that she gets them packed off pretty quickly.’

  Dana saw the tears of fear in Pammy’s eyes threaten to spill over. ‘Well in that case, you wouldn’t last five minutes on there, would you? So you’d better keep your opinion to yourself. Pammy will be just fine,’ she snapped.

  ‘Oh, shut up, Brogan,’ Celia barked back.

  ‘Steady on, Nurse Forsyth,’ said Beth, who was following her out. Beth looked embarrassed.

  ‘Nurse Harper isn’t as bad as you think,’ said Pammy. ‘She’s a bit of a stickler for the work and everything, but she’s not mean like Celia Forsyth. I reckon she may be feeling a bit lonely, thinking that she’s backed the wrong horse. I know I would, if I were her.’ They heard Celia’s voice boom down the stairwell.