The Healing Time

by Lucilla Andrews

  ‘I expect so. I didn’t realise it as I didn’t get any real admin experience my fourth year. Some do, some don’t.’

  ‘Always the way of it.’

  ‘Dr Cousins, what about “Chesty”? Surely he’ll have guessed her age?’

  ‘He has.’

  ‘Did he mind?’

  ‘He did not. It’s one thing to make the rules and another to see a poor old body who could be anybody’s granny gasping for the breath that doesn’t have to be her last with proper and speedy treatment. Lawson’s a decent man and as Kirby was quick to remind him, we did have the empty bed.’ He blinked as three nurse-call lights began flashing on and off, on and off. ‘Sure to God, I’ll need dark glasses. If you want to go, Staff, I can finish off alone.’

  ‘Well, thanks, if you’re sure you don’t want me?’ I stood up as I spoke.

  He smiled up at me. ‘Now there’s an unfair question to put to a man with the Hippocratic Oath tattooed on his chest.’

  The three calls came from William main and were for nothing more serious than requests for extra hot drinks. In Mary main, the pneumonias were sleeping but their presence was making their fellow-patients restless. By the time I got back to the desk, Dr Cousins had gone and Mr Ross, our junior surgical registrar, was writing notes. Mr Ross was a pedantic young man, as good at his job as Dr Cousins, but wholly lacking the Irishman’s easy charm or habit of making verbal passes at every nurse without ever laying a finger on one. Dr Cousins was engaged to a house-physician at one of the London non-teaching hospitals. Her name was Teresa and she had qualified at the Royal Free. I hoped she was as nice as she looked in the photo he kept in his wallet. Brendan Cousins was one of the nicest men I’d met in years.

  The lights continued to flash with the regularity of traffic signals until midnight. Parsons appeared. ‘Can I go and eat early? My stomach’s flapping against my vertebrae.’ She pulled her hate face. ‘That sod Henry made me miss supper, too!’

  Nanny had gone dead. I crossed my fingers and told her to go and get her strength up. She had only just gone when the phone pinged. It was Mrs Worstley in a state. George hadn’t arrived home.

  ‘Whatever could he be doing this late, dear?’

  As George was a single man in the early thirties several reasonable explanations occurred to me. I offered the ones I felt she’d find least objectionable.

  She still objected. ‘He’d not decide to spend the evening with friends without telling me, Mrs Holtsmoor. He always let me know what time he’ll be in. He knows I worry.’ She sounded tearful. ‘I’m that worried now! Should I ring the police, love? I don’t like to as I know he’ll not like that, but I did hope he’d be still with his uncle.’

  ‘He left here ‒’ A thought struck me. ‘Hold on, please, Mrs Worstley. I’ll check the waiting-room.’

  I did not see George asleep in a large armchair with its back to the door, until I walked into the middle of the room. Obviously, Parsons had taken a quick look from the door before assuming the room empty and turning off the light. I didn’t wake him at once as his aunt was in such a tiz.

  ‘Eh, love, am I glad to hear that! The poor young lad!’ She spoke as if George were thirteen, not thirty-three. ‘You tell him aunty’s waiting. Thank you, love.’

  I nipped along for a quick look at my pneumonias, checked the panel, then gave George a shake. ‘Wake up and go home, lad! Gone midnight and Aunt Clara’s going round the twist!’

  He woke slowly and smiling. ‘It is you! I thought I was dreaming as I’ve just been dreaming about you. What’s that about Aunt Clara? And that reminds me, I never said goodnight to old Albert. He asleep?’

  ‘One would hope so at this hour.’ Joel had answered from the doorway. ‘A little past Late Visiting, Mr Duggan. Drop off?’

  ‘Out like a light.’ George stood up, still smiling. ‘Best kip I’ve had in weeks.’

  ‘I expect you can use some more.’ Joel stepped aside. ‘Good night, Mr Duggan.’

  ‘’Night, Doctor ‒ Mrs Holtsmoor.’ George vanished before I had time to explain his aunt’s call. I said as much to Joel.

  He smiled. ‘That’s done him out of the erotic thrill he probably gets every time she tugs on the old umbilical cord.’

  ‘She’s not his mother.’ My tone was sharper than I intended, or could have wished.

  ‘They tell me there’s more than one way of having an Oedipus, Mrs H, but as I’m only a hack physician and not a psychiatrist, how would I know? Still, enough of this. I’ve stopped in to tell you Dr Lawson’s just arrived in the old blocks. If he comes over to the Wing, he’ll certainly come up here. I’m now going up one floor to Luke and’ll be down in about twenty minutes for my round, if Dr Lawson hasn’t rung to say he’s coming over before then.’

  ‘Thanks for letting me know.’

  He didn’t answer. He just vanished.

  No lights were flashing, but I did another round. I was finishing in William main, when I thought I heard the glass door opening. The corridor and desk alcove were empty. I stopped in mid-corridor. I could have misheard. I did not think I had.

  ‘Nurse Parsons, duck!’

  The voice belonged to Mrs Elvis in Mary Small Ward Two.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, Staff! In that light your grey and white looked just like Nurse Parsons’s blue and white and you wear the same caps with those big bows up the back. They are pretty! I was wondering, duck, could I have a drop of cold milk? No, not hot, thanks. I never fancied hot but I do like it nice and cold.’

  I was removing her empty glass when I could have sworn I heard the door again. Again, no-one around, but I could smell tobacco smoke. Smoking was forbidden in our corridor but permitted in the waiting-room and George smoked. I looked in, in case he had returned to ask what about Aunt Clara? The room was empty. I returned to the corridor and the light outside the glass door flicked on, off, on, as if one of the neon strips was blowing.

  The Repairs and Works shop had a night maintenance staff, so quite possibly some electrician was working in the corridor. The thought of a nocturnal invader did cross my mind only to be dismissed, since whoever was around was, if anything, trying to draw attention to the fact. I walked closer to the glass door, looking back over my shoulder at the panel. No flashing lights there and the light outside had gone out again. I opened the door.

  It was a very long time since I had been so passionately embraced and kissed. ‘Sweetie, I’m terribly sorry about tonight ‒ My God! I’ve kissed the wrong one!’ The huge youth with Joel’s colouring and square jaw gaped at me in acute horror as he let me go. ‘Staff Nurse, I’m so sorry ‒ hell! Someone’s coming!’

  Not just someone. Steps were coming down from above and, almost simultaneously, Dr Lawson’s booming voice, up from below. ‘Here, stat, man!’ I half-pushed, half-pulled the large lad into our linen-room and closed the door. If he wasn’t Henry Kirby, I was Aunt Clara. If he valued his Martha’s future I hoped he would have the sense to stay put until I let him out. I smoothed my hair and discovered I had lost my cap.

  Joel reached it first. He handed it to me in a frozen silence before stubbing out the half-smoked cigarette lying in one of the fire buckets. I just had my cap on as Dr Lawson and Liz appeared up our stairwell.

  ‘No better anti-coronary therapy than climbing stairs,’ announced Dr Lawson, breathlessly. ‘And what’s that I smell?’ He sniffed Joel. ‘Haven’t you broken the habit yet? Not seen enough carcinoma of the lung?’

  ‘Enough to make me feel guilty each time I light one, sir.’

  ‘How well I understand! Filthy habit, in addition to the probability that it’s fatal! Always meaning to chuck it myself! Not enough will-power!’

  ‘I wouldn’t go along with that one, sir,’ replied Joel civilly, glancing at the linen-room door. ‘Good of you to come up so late.’

  ‘I thought I might as well pop up and see my old dears. How are they, Staff Nurse ‒ ah ha! My old friend Mrs Holtsmoor! This is a pleasure!’

  Joel gave the
linen-room door another dirty look as I said, ‘Good evening, Dr Lawson,’ and gave the official report. I hoped that name had not given Henry Kirby a coronary, but it should ensure his staying put. If not, quite a few people were going to join Aunt Clara round the twist.

  Chapter Eight

  V.I.P.s IN CASUALTY

  Parsons’ return nearly gave me a coronary. She did a double-take at the desk, then sprinted up the corridor to watch over both main wards, the correct procedure for a junior on such occasions. Joel glanced at his watch as she went by. Dr Lawson continued his anecdote; ‘… insisted on flying me out to the Bahamas to listen to his chest. Nearly broke a vessel when I told him clear as a bell! Said I was wasting his money! Told him ‒ wasting my time ‒ far more valuable ‒ remember it when I sent him my bill! Never thought he’d pay! He did, by return!’

  I echoed Liz’s admiring noises to the lesser extent befitting my lesser status and wished I could tell Joel he was wasting his time. I knew he knew anyone with any real knowledge of our ward at night would know the night nurses’ meal hours and, consequently, when I was most likely to be alone in the ward. Henry Kirby had slipped up on that only as he was so junior. In Martha’s, the medical students did no resident night work until their final year.

  Dr Lawson was ready to move. ‘All most satisfactory, Mrs Holtsmoor, thank you, thank you ‒ after you, Sister ‒ coming, Joel?’

  ‘I’ll see you down, sir.’ Joel glanced over my head to the linen-room door. ‘I’ll be back for my round, Staff.’

  Parsons shot out of Mary main as the glass door closed after them. ‘Pundits popping up after midnight! Downright indecent!’

  I swept her back up the corridor. ‘Do something for me. Check those three tent meters in Mary main and stay in the ward till I join you.’

  She widened her eyes. ‘Staff, I’ve just been brooding over ’em! They’re fine and so are the master controls!’

  ‘I still want those ward meters checked again and right now! I’m serious, love.’ I was. If she so much as set eyes on her current steady now and later the truth came out, authority would never believe the real truth. Authority would instantly assume I was trying to cover up after catching my junior and her boy-friend together. As instantly, the grapevine would buzz about their many illicit nocturnal dates. Officially, I had no idea at all why a roving student I had never seen in my life before had decided to kiss me. I wanted to keep it that way and I hadn’t much time. The fast lift was very fast.

  ‘Staff, I don’t get you ‒’

  ‘That doesn’t matter. Get, girl!’

  She shrugged. ‘So I’ll check meters.’

  I watched the panel till she vanished then opened the linen-room door. ‘Out! Fast!’ I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. ‘And no repeats, Mr Kirby!’

  He was sitting on the broad top shelf amongst the splints and bed-cradles. He swung himself down looking like a very large, very young koala bear about to have a nervous breakdown. ‘I don’t know what to say ‒’

  ‘Don’t say anything, boy! Move!’ I pushed him through the glass door. ‘Use the stairs and if you do meet anyone, then say you’re looking for your brother. Think up a reason, but only that! With me?’

  ‘Sure.’ He held out both hands. ‘Staff, I could kiss you again.’

  ‘Never push your luck, Mr Kirby.’ I closed the door and joined Parsons in Mary.

  ‘I’ve checked and double-checked. All fine. What’s going on, Staff?’

  I tilted my head. ‘Isn’t that Mr Hurst coughing in William main? Take a look whilst I get on with my four-hourly pulses.’

  From her look she was now convinced one of us was out of our minds, but being a good junior she did as she was told.

  Mr Hurst was an elderly man with bronchitis that recurred every winter. He had been one of the first victims of the flu virus currently affecting our zone. It was not a virulent type, but as invariably happened, it was hitting the very young and the over-sixties, seriously.

  A couple of minutes later Parsons stopped me outside a small ward. ‘Can he have more linctus?’

  ‘Dr Kirby?’

  That settled the poor girl’s problem. ‘Staff! Mr Hurst! Then I said I’d make him some tea. Okay?’

  ‘Fine.’ I went with her to unlock the medicine cupboard. I had handed her the dose and was repinning the key in my bib-pocket when Joel returned.

  He did his usual round, checked as usual on the notes his juniors had written earlier. Training them was as much a part of his job as training nurses was Liz’s. ‘That all, Staff?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  He pushed his chair a little back and folded his arms. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but is my impression that you actually believe that, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You don’t feel you have to explain why you apparently chose to fling off your cap and step out for a smoke?’

  ‘No.’

  He frowned. ‘How the devil do you expect me to take that as an answer?’

  That was up to him, but since his brother was involved, I had no other answer. I didn’t have to like Joel to object to becoming involved myself in the strong probability that this could end in his brother’s being slung out. In my present position, I could look the other way. Once Joel had the facts, he couldn’t. Had Henry not been his brother, he could probably have given the boy hell himself and left it there. His brother he would have to pass on to the Dean. The Dean was a great believer in making examples pour encourager les autres. What better example of his impartial stern hand than the S.M.R., W.’s irresponsible brother? In a university, that might provoke a student sit-in. In a much sought-after Medical School able to insist on three A Levels at Grade B as the minimum entry, student power was much less powerful.

  Joel said, ‘Why not be honest? So Duggan came back to be enlightened on Aunt Clara. Not that that lets you out!’

  I said truthfully, ‘I’m sorry you should think that.’

  ‘Sorry!’ He kept his voice in the quiet, flat range that carries much less than a whisper, but he was very angry. ‘So I should bloody well hope! You’ve not just been unethical, plus almost criminally irresponsible, as you’ve ill people in here tonight, you’ve been bloody silly! You may have been a widow too long, but that’s no excuse for making like a sex-starved teenager on-duty! Have as much sex as you like ‒ but for God’s sake ‒ have it outside this hospital!’

  ‘Thank you.’ I held on to my hands.

  He didn’t like that, which evened things up a little. ‘I take it you assume you’ve got me up against another wall?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it that way.’

  ‘Come off it! If being a Holtsmoor doesn’t ring the bloody bell you’ll pull the O.P.A. and we both know it! All right. This one’s to you ‒ but now hear this! This is the end of the line for this Old Pal. Any rep.mist. (repeat the mixture as before) and whatever your surname happens to be, I’ll have you out so fast you won’t know what’s hit you. And don’t think I don’t mean it!’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Then we’ll leave it there.’ He got up. ‘’Night.’

  ‘Good night, Dr Kirby.’

  Whilst seeing his point, I was so angry I could spit. Only I couldn’t as a light was flashing. Mrs Amato, the Maltese pneumonia, was awake and frightened. She had only come to live with one of her many married children a few months back, had never before this evening been inside an English hospital or an oxygen tent. It was over an hour before I was able to calm her enough to go back to sleep, and by then Mrs Clive had woken. And the lights began flashing in regular rotation again. I never got down to the dining-room that night and ate the scrambled eggs Parsons cooked with one hand whilst writing the 2 a.m. report with the other. I did not have another moment for private thought all night.

  It was nearer seven than six when Liz arrived for her final round of the night. Parsons and I had changed into our clean aprons and whilst she was doing a final tidy all round, I was putting the last touches to my
full night report.

  Liz surveyed the calm of both wards from their connecting corridor looking herself grey with fatigue. ‘You’re lucky your night turned out so quiet. Poor Luke is still chaotic. But then Luke is a really heavy medical ward.’

  Parsons limped out of the pantry as I returned from escorting Liz to the lift. ‘So we’ve had a quiet night?’

  ‘According to the acting Night Superintendent.’

  ‘Huh! Charming! Char-ming! I wonder why I’m all feet?’

  ‘Night nurses’ neurosis, Nurse Parsons.’

  She smiled wearily. ‘Night nurses’ amnesia, also. I know I’ve something left to do and can’t remember what it is ‒ yes!’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Clean glass cloths for the pantry.’ She went into the linen-room then reappeared holding a blue silk scarf at arm’s length. ‘How did this get on the floor in there?’

  ‘Someone must have dropped it.’

  ‘Staff, I’m not that dumb!’ She was very pink in the face but kept her eyes on mine. ‘This is my scarf.’

  ‘You must’ve dropped it.’

  ‘Oh, no. Oh, no! I didn’t as I know where I last left it. In Henry’s pocket when I took it off to put on my skid-lid last evening and I know I forgot to ask for it back as I cursed about it in the taxi! He must’ve ‒ the miserable sod! So that’s why you wanted me to read meters like crazy?’

  ‘Meters have to be read, love. And I have to finish my report.’

  ‘Yes. Sure. But, Mrs H, thanks. Thanks a lot.’ She removed herself muttering. ‘Let me get my hands on the sod! I’ll kill him!’

  I underlined a drug entry in red. Joel probably thought I should be grateful to him for covering up for me. In a way, I was. And the burden of gratitude was the final straw, as any young or youngish unattached woman would appreciate.

  Maggie MacDonald came on looking as if she had burdens. After I had reported and the day girls had vanished to their various jobs and Parsons to her train home, I said I hoped Sister wouldn’t mind my asking a personal question and was her domestic crisis under control?’