The Children of Lovely Lane

by Nadine Dorries

  ‘What is this?’ she asked.

  ‘Miss Van Gilder thinks that the hospital spends too much money on ancillary staff. She wants a complete reorganization of how we do things and I’m afraid that she has blocked me into a corner.’

  ‘You? How?’ Emily was unable to hide her incredulity. She had never heard of Matron being backed into a corner by anyone. Matron was one of the most formidable women she knew. She might have been on the wrong side of sixty – no one was really sure of her age, and no one dared ask her – but Emily knew that some matrons kept going until they dropped. Not all had transferred on to the new NHS contracts; some were still employed under the old voluntary hospital and trust contracts. And Emily didn’t see Matron leaving St Angelus for a long time to come. This feebleness in the face of Miss Van Gilder was alien to her.

  ‘Well, I let her persuade me to allow her to review every aspect of how the hospital functions. She said she would produce a report for the board. I agreed, but, frankly, Sister Haycock, I had no intention of providing the board with a report full of suggestions as to how we turn the hospital upside down. The Liverpool District Hospitals Board can manage that quite well without any input from me or anyone else at St Angelus. Anyway, not only has she completed a draft of her review, she has made some very dramatic suggestions and has even gone outside the hospital and obtained proposals as to how her changes might be implemented. That document before you is a preliminary quote from a cleaning agency which appears to propose that we sack every one of our domestics.’

  ‘What? No! We can’t sack an entire community of women.’ Emily looked down at the sheet in dismay. ‘They all take a wage home and keep a family going. Have you seen the houses they live in? Have you seen Elsie’s? The house next door to hers was bombed and it’s still there. The wooden staircase still intact, open to the elements. If these women had the means, they wouldn’t work here, they would be off. To better housing and a better life. They need their jobs at St Angelus.’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know that, Sister Haycock?’ Matron’s voice was quiet but firm. ‘Do you think I have kept Elsie here all these years because of her intelligence or her wit?’

  They both heard a clatter from the kitchenette as something hit the floor.

  ‘I have done my best to support every war widow I can. I have no intention of anyone cleaning the wards other than the women who have done so since before the war, but I don’t have the authority I used to. The NHS is running before it can walk. It seems to me they just want to turn everything upside down, and what for? Nothing I have seen happen yet has anything to do with the patients. It’s all about money.’

  ‘Can’t we just tell her we have an obligation to our staff and we won’t be implementing these changes? It is just a report. Her report. Her suggestions.’

  ‘If I could, I would. But she has already, without even consulting me, included the presentation of the proposal on the agenda for the next board meeting. And, again without even asking me, she posted the copies to the members of the LDHB. They already have the agenda. If Dr Gaskell hadn’t tipped me off, I would never have known, because I am the only person she has failed to send an agenda to. Now, why would that be? Am I being overly suspicious? Does that not sound very odd to you?’

  Emily shook her head. She wanted to enjoy this rare moment with Matron, being united in one cause, not battling over the usual old chestnuts. But this was too urgent a situation for indulgent reflection. The livelihoods of dozens of women were under threat from Miss Van Gilder’s proposals, and it felt as though the woman had only arrived five minutes ago.

  ‘Good heavens, she hasn’t wasted any time, has she?’ said Emily as she turned over a page and read the list of porter’s lads to be laid off as part of the new regimen. ‘But I don’t understand. How can they save money by sacking most of our workforce? They will only have to pay other women and boys to do the same jobs.’

  ‘Yes, but look at this.’ Matron pushed her glasses up her nose and stood behind Emily. She jabbed her finger at a column of figures. ‘That is how they’ll save their money. They will re-employ our domestics but pay them two pounds less per week.’

  ‘They can’t do that, that would cut their wages almost in half!’ Emily jumped to her feet and walked towards the fireplace. ‘Most of these women are widows with children over fourteen. They can’t collect their war-widow’s pension any longer. They need their jobs. How are they going to manage to survive with no money coming in and no men to go out and work? Matron, our workforce comes from the homes of fallen soldiers. Men who gave their lives so that St Angelus could remain safe.’ Emily took a breath. Her own loss fired her emotions and she took a second to regain her composure.

  Matron stepped in. ‘Exactly. My sentiments entirely. Our job isn’t just running a hospital. It isn’t only about making the sick well. We are a family with a legacy and it is a legacy we must honour, together. Here, for goodness’ sake, drink your tea and eat a garibaldi before she arrives. I’ve never known a woman to eat a plate of biscuits as fast as she can.’

  Emily took a deep breath and sat back in the chair. She looked up at Matron fussing and in the midst of her concern she also felt happy. Here they were, she and Matron, working as a team, and it felt good. They had a mutual enemy in Miss Van Gilder and, united, they would thwart her plans. Emily had envisioned the Bone Grinder and Matron becoming the best of friends, but that hadn’t happened. This brought Emily some relief.

  Matron poured Emily some more tea and, placing her own cup in her saucer, sat back in her chair.

  ‘Many of our domestics were young married women when they started at St Angelus, earning pin money. I was young myself then. I’m not against all married women working, you know, Sister Haycock.’ She gave Emily a wry smile. ‘And now they are war widows, no longer working for pin money to supplement their husband’s wage, looking after each other’s children, a way of earning a few treats. That pin money now buys the food and pays the bills. That is how much the war changed things around here. I know some of them think I am as tough as old boots, but I do understand. What was once their pin money is now their only income. I do understand that.’

  Emily smiled and nodded. ‘I think they know that, Matron. You have a following amongst the domestics.’ She failed to add that in equal measure she was feared by the student nurses.

  ‘She will be here in a minute. Any suggestions?’

  ‘I will have to have a think, Matron, but why don’t we hear what she has to say anyway? Maybe when she says all this out loud, she will realize how awful it all sounds. At least we now know what we are up against.’

  ‘Apart from all this, she’s driving Sister Antrobus mad. It’s like two stags locking horns. And I have to say, I admire Sister Antrobus; she isn’t cowed by her. Miss Van Gilder has been asking her for the most ridiculous things and, frankly, Sister Antrobus is earning a lot of sympathy from the other sisters. We will have a revolution on our hands soon if she carries on like this.’

  Emily finished her tea and, leaning forward, laid her cup and saucer on the coffee table. ‘Poor Sister Antrobus,’ she said as she raised one eyebrow.

  ‘I know you don’t mean that, Emily.’ Matron gave another half smile. ‘I know that until recently she was the most feared sister in the hospital. Who knows, maybe one day you will grow to like her.’

  The irony was not lost on Emily, who had spent years battling Matron in order to get her own way.

  ‘To think, it used to be my visits to the wards that everyone dreaded. But what the nurses didn’t seem to realize was that I timed my visits for when the wards were at their quietest. After the drug rounds. Whereas Miss Van Gilder turns up unannounced at all hours. The nurses always start from the premise that I am out to get them. It just shows you, I earned myself a fearsome reputation without even trying that hard.’

  Neither of them heard Elsie tiptoeing slowly back into the kitchenette. She had been hovering with her ear to the half-open door ever since she’d
dropped the sugar bowl, and she’d heard every word.

  Branna was waiting on the other side of the door and Elsie almost shrieked as she bumped into her.

  ‘What did she say? What’s the latest?’ Branna hissed. She had nipped out from her cleaning duties on ward two, desperate to get the news.

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Elsie. ‘Other than Matron has not employed me for me intelligence. It’s just as well. What use would that be when I’m scrubbing her bath?’

  Branna had no idea what Elsie was talking about. ‘Is Miss Van Gilder there?’

  ‘No, not yet. Miss Haycock is, though. And Matron. Mighty pally they are too.’

  ‘Right, I’m off back before Sister or anyone misses me. I only came for a natter, but my time’s run out now. I didn’t want to disturb you when you were spying. I have news from Madge. She’s coming on Sunday. Written down some interesting phone conversations to do with the Bone Grinder, she says. She’s bringing all her notes with her.’

  ‘Ooh, good. That sounds promising,’ said Elsie. ‘Did she say what she had?’

  ‘No, you know Madge, she likes her news to make an entrance. She thinks she’s Mata Hari, but we won’t discourage her, will we? She did say someone’s been looking for Miss Van Gilder, keeps ringing the hospital. Anyway, she will tell us all, for sure. See you at Biddy’s on Sunday night.’

  Elsie opened the door to Matron’s office in an exaggerated manner and entered the room pushing a tea trolley and wearing a beaming smile. Before she had finished pouring the fresh pot of tea, the door opened again, without the customary knock this time, and in strode Miss Van Gilder.

  ‘Ah, Matron, Miss Haycock,’ she trilled. ‘Here early, I see, Miss Haycock. And yet I made a point of being here ten minutes early myself.’

  Emily felt both confused and surprised and had no idea how to respond.

  ‘When you have finished pouring the tea, could you leave the room promptly, please,’ Miss Van Gilder snapped at Elsie.

  Emily’s and Matron’s eyes met. Matron’s brow arched.

  It’s her audacity, thought Emily. Everything she says and does is out of the ordinary, a surprise. She knocks Matron on to her back foot and Matron has no time to recover before she knocks her back again.

  Elsie was concerned about Matron too. She retreated to the kitchenette but decided she would stick around and give the place a good clean. She might pick up some more useful information. She prepared everything Matron ate. Matron was not a cook, but she was no eater either. Elsie often discovered a meal she’d left her the night before hidden in the bin, covered in paper, in the hope that it be wouldn’t noticed. ‘When you live alone, Elsie,’ Matron had explained once, ‘food is not easy to swallow. Even the lovely dishes you cook and leave for me. Sometimes they’re hard to eat, alone. They stick in your throat and taste of sadness.’

  She felt sorry for Matron and it dismayed her to see that her efforts had ended up in the bin or the dog’s bowl. Everyone in the hospital looked up to Matron, but she spent her evenings on her own, sitting at the large dining table in her apartment looking out over the empty car park.

  Elsie had worked for her all the time she’d been at St Angelus. When the gossip spread across the hospital about Matron’s feelings for Sister April, Elsie had wanted to lash out at anyone who dared to say a word against her. Her heart bled for her boss. Matron would never know love. Never have children. Elsie couldn’t think of anything worse. ‘Being who she is must make it very lonely for her,’ she said to Biddy on a regular basis. ‘It’s not like she can tell anyone or talk about it. It must be the worst thing in the world to be born like Matron. So lonely.’

  *

  An hour later, Emily strode back into the school of nursing. ‘Biddy!’ she shouted into the kitchen as she mounted the stairs to her office.

  Branna hid behind the kitchen door, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

  ‘Do the floors on ward two clean themselves?’ Biddy said to Branna as she made for the door. ‘Is that all you do all day, drink tea?’

  ‘Right, I’m off then,’ said Branna. ‘You shan’t be seeing me in here again for a while. There are better places than here I can go to be insulted.’

  Biddy ran, as fast as someone her age and weight and with an incontinence pessary fitted could, in response to Emily’s shout. She could count on one hand the number of times Emily had called her with any degree of urgency. The cause was usually a rat, a mouse or a cheeky spider that had made itself at home on the ceiling above her head. But this was not an animal emergency. Biddy could tell.

  ‘Have you heard from your friend at St Dunstan’s?’ Emily asked, even before Biddy had reached her desk.

  ‘We haven’t. She’s been in hospital with her fibroids. Suffered from them since the last child, I hear. But her sister says she’s back home now, so we should hear in a day or two.’

  ‘OK, well, in that case, could I come to your mafia meeting, do you think, Biddy? Assuming you’re having one? I can avoid the Guinness no longer. Can I take you up on your offer? We need to work together on the Bone Grinder. It’s serious, Biddy, but don’t tell anyone that yet. I’m someone who wants to embrace a more modern way of running the hospital, but Miss Van Gilder has proposals that are a step way too far. Oh, and by the way, Miss Van Gilder has just informed us that representatives from the Acme cleaning agency will be visiting every ward in the hospital. Can Dessie come to the meeting too? Her changes will affect him.’

  ‘Oh yes, try and keep him away, Miss Haycock. We are all ready. The more heads on this one, the better.’

  *

  Down in the porter’s lodge, Dessie sat at his desk running his fingers through his hair.

  Miss Van Gilder had asked him to justify why he needed twenty-four lads. He had responded with a detailed list of the jobs the boys carried out on a regular basis. As he’d read it back to himself, he’d wondered how they managed with only twenty-four. His heart had swelled with pride. His lads worked damned hard and they earned every penny.

  Miss Van Gilder had read his notes and had just passed him her own.

  ‘Here is my proposal as to how we can reduce that number from twenty-four to twelve.’

  Dessie turned to the last sheet and the last column and blinked. ‘But, Miss Van Gilder, you have increased their hours to twelve a day, fourteen at weekends, and with no additional pay.’

  ‘Quite. You told me only the other day that when the hospital was busy, they quite often worked on into their own time. You told me they would never abandon the hospital when it was busy. All I am proposing is that we transfer that goodwill on to an official footing.’

  ‘But, Miss Van Gilder, if you do that, it is no longer goodwill. It becomes an obligation.’

  ‘We are all obligated. Why should the porter’s lads be any different?’

  Later that morning, Jake sat opposite him nursing a mug of tea. Both were equally disturbed by the news.

  ‘Jesus, Dessie, what will we do? They are laying off down on the docks. Where will these lads find work? And besides, they are the hospital. It only functions because of the lads. This place is one big family. You can’t sack your family.’

  ‘I know, Jake. But if we tell the board that the building is near falling down, I reckon they might even close us down. It’s the lads that do the repair jobs to keep this place going half of the time. To think, I only told her the lads worked overtime with no pay to make a case to keep them, not to make it official.’

  ‘She’ll be after the cleaners next and then Matron’s job. Why is Matron letting her get away with all of this?’

  ‘Because Matron is being asked to attend all sorts of committees and meetings all over the place to do with the hospital and the new NHS. If you ask me, she’s out of her depth and that’s why she hands things over to Miss Van Gilder.’ He sighed. ‘There is talk of a new hospital being built, a bigger, modern one with state-of-the-art operating theatres. I hear it could be five years away or f
ifty, depending on whether the government stumps up the cash. It means our hospital will close. That would be the end of us. We need to keep going as long as we can and look after our lads.’

  The phone on Dessie’s desk rang and made Jake jump and spill his tea on his sleeve. He watched as Dessie’s face creased into a frown of concentration.

  ‘Right. This Sunday at yours? I’ll be there. Seven o’clock as usual? I’ll pick up some beers. Does Miss Haycock drink sherry, do you think?’

  A smile spread across Dessie’s face as he put the telephone down.

  ‘You do realize that you and Miss Haycock are the only people who don’t know that you are sweet on her, don’t you, Dessie?’

  Dessie picked up an oil rag off the side and threw it at Jake. ‘Well, you and the lads are wrong. I like her very much. She is a very nice woman and I have the greatest respect for her, but I am not sweet on her.’

  ‘Yeah, right, and my mam, she’s the next Miss World, don’t you know, as long as she remembers to put her teeth in. Look at the state of you – you can’t stop smiling! Jesus, Dessie, you were suicidal a minute ago and now you can’t keep the grin from your face.’

  ‘Don’t talk such nonsense,’ said Dessie testily. ‘As it happens, there’s a meeting on Sunday. Biddy says Miss Haycock has asked to come along. Both me and Miss Haycock have our minds on the likes of you and the good of this hospital, not daft romance rubbish like you lot. She came back from the management meeting this morning in a right tizz, says Biddy. My mind is now on wondering what this is all going to be about. Not Sister Haycock.’

  ‘Of course it is, Dessie.’ Jake was grinning from ear to ear.

  Dessie shot out of his seat and stormed out of the porter’s lodge. He knew Jake would be scrutinizing his every expression. There was a new bounce to his step and it wasn’t just the prospect of finding out information about Miss Van Gilder that had put it there.

  23

  Dana was ready to collapse on to her bed when she got back to Lovely Lane. She was even more exhausted now that she was back on days – though for how long, she didn’t know. But before she got to bed, she knew there was something she had to do first. Tomorrow night, she was meeting Teddy, and the question of the summer holidays would be brought up. She needed to phone home and see whether they were expecting her back in Belmullet. Dropping her cape in the hall, she went straight to the laundry room, where the telephone was kept.