The Hive

by Claire Rayner

  ‘I don’t really see what I can do, Sister,’ Jamieson said slowly. ‘Even a consultant can hardly dismiss sisters over a matron’s head——’

  ‘But consultants could—ensure that there was a matron who would see her duty more clearly than—our present one seems to do,’ she said softly.

  ‘You’re asking me to make an official complaint to the Board?’

  ‘Oh, I really wouldn’t dream of advising you, sir. It’s up to you. I must say, if it weren’t that I’d applied for the post originally, and been turned down, I’d make the complaint myself, unpleasant though that would be for me. But I’m afraid the Board might not—well, they might think it was because I was turned down, you see.’

  ‘My dear Sister East, I’m sure we all know your worth far too well to think any such thing, but I do understand your unwillingness, and it does you credit. Look, Sister, leave this with me, will you? I’ll think about it all very carefully, and if you have any further—knowledge, don’t hesitate to see me. I’ll think about it very carefully——’

  When she had gone, he sat for a long time. He had no cause as yet to object to Miss Manton, from his point of view, but she was a vigorous and intelligent woman with a mind of her own, not nearly as pliable as Miss Biggs had been. Under Miss Biggs’ rule, his wards had been the best staffed in the hospital, because, as was his usual practice, he had ingratiated himself with her as with all the senior nurses. It was possible that in future he would have a less easy time with the nursing staff because Miss Manton was the sort of woman she was.

  He began to think about the committee meeting at which she had talked of French’s application for the beds, and wondered. Heston had told him that French and Manton were old friends. Did French have her in his pocket? If he had, it would be worth getting rid of Miss Manton, if possible, if only to appoint a Matron who would feel a similar loyalty to him, Jamieson. French was another Jamieson could do without. He was far too energetic and able altogether. It would be worth putting a stop in his way for the sheer hell of it, he thought. Really, Sister East had been very wise to come to him. There was plenty to think about in all this. And then he laughed aloud. How that woman wants that post, and how hard she’s trying to get it for herself! She’d make a very useful ally if she were the Matron.

  He slipped through the door of the flat swiftly when she opened it.

  ‘Really, I feel like an undergraduate on a spree,’ he said, as he followed her into her sitting room. ‘I left the car in the road, rather than in the hospital car park, in case anyone saw it, and wondered what I was doing here so late, and I positively crept through the corridor from my office——’

  He sat down and stretched his legs, and looked up at her with a small smile on his face.

  ‘Do you know, it adds a certain—spice—all this? I’ve always despised people who went in for illicit relationships, thought it was a waste of good time and energy, all the deviousness, and so on. But you know, I begin to see how amusing it can be.’

  ‘I’m glad you do,’ she said, and smiled back. ‘But you need have no further fears of being seen. I doubt very much that anyone will disturb us.’

  ‘Good.’

  There was a moment’s silence, then she said abruptly, ‘You’d like a drink.’

  He watched her pour them, and said softly, ‘You look—very attractive in that. The colour suits you.’

  She was wearing a long green house coat that showed her body to advantage, and as she turned with the drinks in her hands, he could see that she was wearing nothing under it. She had a soft untrammelled look, and he let his eyes rest on her body appreciatively. She reddened slightly, and came towards him with the drinks.

  He took his, and as she let go a little of the brandy spilled on his hand, and he smiled at her.

  ‘Nervous, Elizabeth? Not you, surely?’

  She managed a little smile, and sipped her drink, looking over the rim of the glass at him.

  ‘Not nervous. Just—excited.’

  He stood up, and put his glass into her hand.

  ‘Take these into the bedroom, Elizabeth. I’ll follow you in a moment.’

  She turned and went, saying nothing, and after a moment, he took her telephone off its hook, and followed her.

  Sister McLeod was making hot cocoa over the gas ring at the end of the sisters’ corridor. She had another of her head colds, and really, she thought, it’s no wonder, all this central heating. I’ve told them before about the ventilation here, but they won’t listen.

  Along the corridor, she could hear footsteps, and looked at her watch in surprise. Half past twelve. Who on earth could be prowling about at this time? Someone else with a cold? She peered out into the brightly lit corridor, and saw Daphne standing with her ear pressed against the panels of Susan’s door.

  Holding her steaming cup carefully, she came out of the little kitchen, and padded along towards Daphne, curiosity making her walk with her head forwards.

  ‘Something the matter, Sister?’ she said as she came up to Daphne.

  Daphne turned to look at her, and McLeod felt an almost physical shock. Her face had somehow fallen apart, as though the flesh were falling off the bones, and her colour was a thick yellowish grey that made her look positively ill.

  ‘Whatever is it? Are you ill?’ she said, and stooped to put her cocoa cup on the floor, before coming to put a protective arm round the other’s shoulders.

  ‘It’s Pip—Phillips. I think—I don’t know. I’m worried about her. I think she’s—ill, perhaps, I don’t know——’

  She pushed on the door fretfully, and then bent to listen against the panels again.

  ‘But she’s asleep, surely?’ McLeod said, her face twisted with puzzlement. ‘It’s half past twelve. Sister Cooper! I’m sure there’s nothing wrong——’

  ‘She’s locked the door!’ Daphne’s voice rose higher, and McLeod shushed her so that she spoke more softly. ‘She never does that! I wanted to talk to her, you see? I wanted to talk to her——’ Daphne put out a hand, and almost shook McLeod by the shoulder, her face crumpling. ‘You must understand! I looked for her—all day, but she never came to lunch, or to supper, and she wasn’t here when I got off duty, and kept coining down to see if she’d come in—and then——Oh, I don’t know how I could have—I fell asleep, you see?’

  She turned back to the door, and tried the handle again, but the door remained firm. ‘I fell asleep, and I woke up just now and came down here again, and the door was locked, and I can hear her in there—there’s something wrong, I know there is——’

  ‘Sister, this is silly!’ McLeod said sharply. ‘You’ve just got yourself upset for nothing. Look, I think you aren’t well—come back to your room, and I’ll take your temperature, and I’ve got some aspirin. You can have this nice hot drink, and I’ll make another for myself—now come along, Cooper——’

  But Daphne pulled away from her, and began to knock on Susan’s door.

  ‘Pip?’ she called, her lips against the wood. ‘Pip? It’s me—Daph—let me in, Pip—come on, lovey—let me in. It’ll be all right—you’ll see—there’s nothing to worry about—-Pip?’

  ‘Sister!’ McLeod said in a loud hiss. ‘Do be quiet! You’ll wake the whole Home—do come away——’

  But Daphne began to knock even more loudly, calling Pip, her voice rising more and more shrilly.

  Next door in Swinton’s room, there was a sound of movement, and a light went on, filling the fanlight with a bright yellow glow. Swinton appeared at the door, and peered round it, her hair tousled and her face bewildered.

  ‘What the hell’s all the din? Cooper? What’s going on——?’

  Beyond her, another door opened, and Cotton came out into the corridor, her hair in curlers under a pink lacy cap, pulling a dressing gown round her.

  ‘Is someone ill?’ she asked anxiously as she joined the little group at Phillips’ door. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Sister Cooper—I think she—I don’t know what it
is,’ McLeod said, pulling uselessly at Daphne’s shoulder. ‘She wants to wake Phillips, and it’s half past twelve. I think she must be ill or something.’

  ‘I’m telling you something’s wrong! She never locks her door!’ Daphne turned and almost glared at them. ‘Do you hear me? She never locks her door—there’s something wrong——’

  ‘But lots of people lock their doors, dear,’ Mary said reasonably, ‘I always do—do hush, Cooper—you’ll wake the whole place——’

  ‘But why hasn’t she woken up?’ Daphne cried. ‘Why not? You did when you heard me—why not her?’ she turned back and put her ear to the door again.

  ‘Listen—listen——’ She pulled Swinton towards the door, and pushed her head against the panels. ‘Can you hear that? That isn’t ordinary breathing, is it?’

  ‘It does sound a bit stertorous——’ Swinton said after a moment or two, and then stood erect again.

  ‘Listen, Cooper—stop and calm down for a minute, will you? I daresay she’s taken a Soneryl or something to sleep, that’s all. You’re making a great fuss about this, and I don’t imagine Phillips will be best pleased—do calm down, Cooper,’ and she shook the other woman slightly. But Daphne wouldn’t listen, and began to knock on the door again.

  ‘Look McLeod, you’d better get the master key, and open this door. You’ll never get her to stop this din if you don’t,’ Swinton said urgently.

  Other doors along the corridor were opening now, and Dolly and Cramm came out of their rooms too, so that there was a little knot of dressing-gowned people round the door. McLeod looked round worriedly.

  ‘Really, I don’t like to—I mean, it’s a sister’s room, and I’m sure it’s what you said——Oh, Cooper, do be quiet, she’s only taken a Soneryl——’

  ‘Get the key, McLeod,’ Dolly said crisply. ‘Go on,’ and with one swift look at the big woman’s face, McLeod turned and hurried down the stairs to her office.

  Dolly was standing close to Daphne now, and her voice cut across the repeated calls of ‘Pip’ so sharply that Daphne turned and looked at her, tears now streaking her face.

  ‘Sister Cooper! Why do you think something is wrong? What has happened between you two?’ Dolly’s face was set in hard lines, and for the first time, Daphne seemed to recover some of her equilibrium.

  She rubbed one hand across her wet cheeks, and said with an attempt at normality, ‘I—I’m not sure what’s the matter. She—she hasn’t been herself all day, and I’m worried. But nothing else has happened——’

  ‘No? Are you sure?’ Dolly said, and Daphne stood and looked at her, and then shook her head.

  McLeod arrived with the key, and they moved away to let her push it in the lock.

  ‘I don’t like doing this without a really good reason,’ she muttered. ‘It isn’t right——’

  They heard a key on the other side hit the linoleum, and then the door swung open, and Daphne pushed past McLeod to fumble for the light switch.

  Susan was lying in bed, neatly, on her back, the bedclothes pulled tightly across her body, her arms tidily on each side of her, the line of her legs under the counterpane straight. Her face was flushed, her eyes only half closed, with a line of white showing under the lids, and her mouth was open. She was breathing thickly, and there was a thin line of white along her lips where saliva had dried.

  Daphne almost fell across the room, to kneel by the bed, and began to shake Susan, lifting her shoulders so that her head lolled backwards, and her breath rattled even more noisily in her throat.

  ’Pip—Pip! Wake up—it’s me—Daph—wake up—Pip——’ But the heavy snoring went on, and there was no other movement. Daphne scrambled to her feet, and turned a face almost unrecognisable in its distress to the little cluster of women by the door.

  ‘Get a porter—get her to Cas.—hurry—somebody, get a porter——’

  They moved then, McLeod, after one horrified look at Phillips, running to the telephone in the hall, and Swinton going over to the bed to turn Phillips on her side with a practiced twist, arranging her head so that she could breath more easily. The snoring stopped, became a quieter thick breathing, and Swinton stood with a hand on one lax wrist, feeling for a pulse.

  Daphne was staring at Dolly, and suddenly, she threw herself across the small room at the big woman, clawing at her face. Dolly reared back, and with a small terrified yelp Mary shrank back against the door. It was Swinton who pulled Daphne away from Dolly, who stood breathing heavily, one hand on her cheek where the marks of Daphne’s nails could be clearly seen.

  ‘It’s you—you did this, you and your horrible talk—you did this—you’ve killed her—you said things and it made her—you killed her—you bloody fu——’ She launched into a stream of invective that made Mary cover her ears with both hands. Dolly just stood and looked at Daphne, her head high, and her face rigid with loathing.

  ‘You make me sick—you hear that? You make me sick,’ she said, when Daphne stopped, and collapsed into a heavy ugly weeping.

  ‘McLeod!’ Dolly turned and looked for McLeod, who was now back again, and hovering at the door. ‘Ring Matron, and tell her to come here at once, do you hear me? At once——’

  ‘But, Dolly——’

  ‘Do as you’re told!’ and obediently, McLeod went.

  She turned as two porters with a small folding stretcher arrived, their faces agog with interest, and Swinton and Mary helped them lift the unconscious Susan on to it, wrapping her up in a blanket, Mary murmuring in distress, Swinton silent and grim.

  ‘I can’t get her, Dolly.’ McLeod was breathless, and she sniffed heavily. ‘Oh, this cold, it’s getting worse—I do feel dreadful—there’s a busy signal, Dolly.’

  ‘I’ll go over to her flat, then,’ Dolly said, and stood back as the porters carried the stretcher out towards the stairs.

  ‘Take that other one over too, Swinton,’ she said, not looking at Daphne, who was sitting at the foot of the crumpled bed, no longer crying but staring blankly at the wall. ‘I’ll bring Matron there——’

  French stirred, and muttered before turning over, and then, he was completely awake. The knocking started again, and he fumbled under the pillow for his watch.

  Beside him, Elizabeth sat up, and then got quickly out of bed to start pulling on her nightdress.

  ‘What the bloody hell is it?’ French said, fear making him angry. ‘What is this? Have you——’

  ‘Be quiet, and stay here,’ she said softly, and went out, closing the door behind her.

  He got out of bed, and began to dress, nervousness making his fingers clumsy. He could hear voices beyond the door, and then Elizabeth’s voice sharp and loud.

  ‘I’ll come at once. Sister. Wait while I get my dressing gown.’

  There was a short rustling sound, and then a voice, nearer, said clearly. ‘I’ll get it for you, Matron——’ and the door opened, and Dolly East came in, to put the light on from the door switch. He stood blinking in the sudden brilliance, his tie in one hand, conscious of his bare feet under his trousers, of his crumpled hair, and he raised a hand to smooth it, automatically.

  Behind Dolly, he saw Elizabeth. There was absolute stillness for a moment, and then she pushed past the other woman, and moving stiffly, took her dressing gown from the back of the door, and went out, not looking at him.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Dolly said softly, and followed her.

  FOURTEEN

  Her throat felt raw, as though a piece of wire wool had been dragged across it, and Susan swallowed, somehow enjoying the pain. It made her feel more real, more aware of her body. She lay still, looking along the bedclothes at the shape of her feet, at the line of her legs, and a sharp pleasure rose in her, meeting the pain in her throat.

  ‘It’s nice, being me,’ she thought. ‘Very nice. I didn’t know how nice it could be. And she said it didn’t matter. Dear old Daph. She said it didn’t matter, and she was right. It’ll all be nice now, always and always.’

  Her tho
ughts slid away and she tried to remember. She had woken with the pain in her throat, and when she had spoken her voice had been thick and rough. She had asked the nurse by the bed what had happened, and the girl had said she had had a stomach wash-out, and not to worry——

  I wish I could have known about it. It must have hurt, a stomach wash-out. I wish I had been awake to feel it, because it must have been nice—all the people who must have been working on me. I wonder who they got to me? A consultant or one of the housemen? A consultant. It must have been. I’m a sister, after all.

  They let Daphne come to see her that night, after she had woken from her own heavily sedated sleep. Susan lay in bed in her little room in the sick bay, and watched Daphne as she hovered at the door.

  Daphne looks different, Susan thought dreamily. Quite different. Older. And so mis, poor old Daph.

  ‘Come and sit down, Daph,’ she said, pitching her voice low so that the thick huskiness was more obvious. ‘Come and sit here,’ and she patted the bed beside her.

  Daphne ran across the room, almost scuttling, to sit on the chair beside her bed, to hold Susan’s thin bony hand in both of hers, her eyes wide with anxiety and an odd triumph. But the anxiety was the most obvious.

  Susan looked at her, and stretched her legs under the bedclothes luxuriously, enjoying the movement of the sheets against her skin, and let her lips open in a sweet smile.

  ‘Don’t look like that, Daph. Don’t. There’s nothing to look like that about, is there? I’m still here——’

  Daphne let her head fall forward, so that her cheek rested against Susan’s hand, and gently, Susan moved so that she could touch the other’s hair.

  ‘We’ve got plans to make, Daph,’ she said softly. ‘Haven’t we? All sorts of plans. I’ve been thinking of all sorts of ideas. Have you?’

  Heston walked up and down his office, unable to sit still, ignoring Jamieson’s irritation every time he passed his chair. Beside Jamieson, Dolly sat straight backed, watching Heston’s perambulations, her face blank, but with a small muscle twitching spasmodically in her injured cheek. But she did not touch the scratch marks, under their coating of yellow acri-flavine.