Snowflakes in the Wind

by Rita Bradshaw

But now it was the first week of January, the old battered trunk was packed with her things and it was the morning of her departure. The night before, her grandfather and Robin had surprised her with the gift of a new hat and coat they had bought and kept for the occasion of her leaving. ‘Can’t have you turning up in Galashiels like the poor relation, now, can we?’ Wilbert had said gruffly as she and Rachel had oohed and aahed over the lovely deep-plum wool coat and matching hat, Abby with tears streaming down her face.

  ‘But it’s too expensive,’ she had murmured, touched to the heart of her at their thoughtfulness. It was true her old coat and hat had seen better days and the sleeves of the coat were halfway up her arms, but she had been content to make do. Once she started earning a wage she was determined to begin paying her grandfather a monthly sum of money for the uniform, books and everything else he had so cheerfully bought her; buying a new hat and coat had been something way in the future.

  ‘Nonsense.’ Wilbert had touched his granddaughter’s face in one of his rare gestures of affection. ‘You’ll look as pretty as a picture, lass, so let’s hear no more about it.’

  Abby thought about this now as she pulled on the coat and hat before walking downstairs where the others were waiting for her. Her grandfather had ordered the carrier’s cart to come to the farm that morning to take her to Kelso station where she would catch the train for Galashiels at midday. She and Rachel and the menfolk had had breakfast together earlier and it had been a subdued meal, and Abby had found she had no appetite whatsoever. Her stomach was doing cartwheels and she was already homesick. Surprisingly, in view of how she had felt about Rachel initially, it was the fact that the other girl would be here to look after the men and keep things running smoothly that comforted her. They had already begun to forge a strong friendship, and Abby could see that Rachel genuinely adored Robin which was all that mattered. She and Rachel didn’t know exactly what had occurred when her grandfather and Robin had gone to see Rachel’s parents the day after Boxing Day, but they had returned with grim faces, saying only that Rachel’s previous life was finished with for good.

  The carrier’s cart was already outside with her trunk loaded in the back, and as Abby looked at her grandfather and brother a wealth of memories flooded her mind and brought a lump to her throat. The little picnics the three of them had enjoyed when she had taken their lunch to them in the fields on the days she wasn’t at school; she and Robin feeding the motherless lambs with pap bottles in the warmth of the big barn; the comforting smell of her granda’s pipe in the evenings when they’d sat before the fire after the day’s work was finally done . . . So many things.

  Hugs and kisses had never been part of their family life but now Abby flung her arms round her grandfather first, then Robin, and lastly Rachel. ‘I’ll write,’ she choked out through her tears. ‘As often as I can.’

  ‘Aye, you do that, lass.’ Wilbert’s voice was thick.

  She was halfway out of the front door when Robin suddenly gave her another hug, a bear hug this time as he lifted her off her feet and held her close for some moments. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.

  Abby climbed blindly onto the seat next to the carrier, feeling utterly desolate. And then the horse was plodding down the track and the shouted goodbyes were fading and she was actually leaving the farm. For a moment she considered jumping down from the cart and running back and saying she had changed her mind, but then they reached the lane and the horse’s amble became a trot. They were some distance along the lane and she had dried her eyes and composed herself, when she saw a dark figure standing half-concealed by the hedgerow. For a moment she thought it might be Nicholas but of course that was silly; he had left to return to his hospital days ago. And then, as the cart passed, the man stepped forward and she saw who it was. They’d gone by in the twinkling of an eye, but for some minutes afterwards Abby’s heart continued to pound sickeningly. Joe McHaffie had doffed his cap to her but not in a nice way; his eyes had been narrowed like hard bullets and his teeth drawn back from his lips in a sneer and his whole persona had been one of dark menace . . .

  PART FOUR

  Bedpans, Sluices and Lavatories

  1930

  Chapter Thirteen

  Abby arrived at the hospital at three o’clock as the matron had instructed in her letter. She was shown to a small waiting room that smelt overpoweringly of disinfectant and was spotlessly clean. The young taxi driver who had brought her from the train station dumped her trunk at her side, accepting his fare and the tip she gave him with a cheery, ‘Ta, lass,’ and as he left she felt that her last friend in the world had gone.

  She sat down on one of the hard-backed chairs lining the walls and looked around her. The room was painted in a dull shade of green – vomit green, Robin would have called it – and there were no pictures on the wall to relieve the gloom.

  Abby swallowed hard. She felt very small and very alone. The girl who had shown her to the waiting room hadn’t said two words beyond, ‘Wait here.’ And so she waited.

  It was a full ten minutes later, which had seemed like ten hours, when a brisk personage in an immaculate blue-and-white uniform, her hair hidden under a white butterfly cap, peered in at the open door. ‘Are you the new nurse?’

  Was she? It was the first time she had been called a nurse and for a moment Abby thought the girl must be looking for someone else.

  ‘Abigail Kirby?’

  This time Abby nodded.

  ‘Come on and don’t look so scared – you’ll soon get used to everything. I started in the summer and for the first few weeks I didn’t know my backside from my elbow but now it feels like home.’ The girl wrinkled her small snub nose. ‘Albeit one that runs like the army. I’m Florence Kane but my friends call me Flo, by the way.’

  ‘I’m Abby.’

  Lifting the handle on one side of the trunk, Flo gestured for Abby to take the other and together they left the room to stagger down corridors and up stairs where the same sickly green of the waiting room dominated the colour scheme. Abby was completely lost by the time Flo stopped outside a door.

  ‘Here we are, your home from home.’ Again the snub nose wrinkled. ‘But don’t worry, you are going to be so tired it won’t matter there’s not enough room to swing a cat.’ Pushing open the door, Flo led her inside to where four iron beds, four chests of drawers and one wardrobe were crammed into such a tiny space that Abby couldn’t imagine how four occupants could live in the room as well. Pointing to one of the beds, Flo said, ‘That’s yours next to mine.’

  Abby gulped, Flo’s remark about the army coming back to her. The beds were made with such neat precision and tightness it didn’t look possible to sleep in them, and as though Flo had read her mind, she said, ‘Like everything else here, our beds have to be just so. Sister inspects them every day and if they’re not up to scratch you’ll come off duty dead on your feet to find them stripped to the springs and the bedding on the floor. She’s a tartar, Sister Duffy. Everyone hates her. She can make your life a misery.’ Flo smiled cheerfully. ‘Let’s put your things away.’

  Feeling more unnerved every moment, Abby helped Flo unpack the trunk, most of her belongings being deposited in the chest of drawers and the hangables in the section of the wardrobe allotted to her. While they worked, Flo filled her in on a few of the rules. ‘Keep your drawers tidy, don’t let Sister catch you sitting on your bed and no smoking in the room, and definitely no alcohol.’ Flo grinned. ‘No one keeps the last two but woe betide you if Sister finds out. We’re not supposed to leave the nurses’ home unless our uniform is perfect and our hair tidy, and ten o’clock is the deadline for being in if you have an evening off. The great thing is there’s a very convenient beech tree just outside our window and if anyone’s going out we leave the window open so if they’re late back they can climb up and come in that way.’

  Abby looked at Flo aghast. They were two floors up.

  Flo giggled. ‘No one’s broken their neck yet, althou
gh Pam – you’ll meet her later, along with Kitty – Pam got stuck the other night when she was the worse for wear after too many gins with her boyfriend. Somehow she found herself hanging by her knicker elastic, poor thing. We got her in eventually but in the morning there was this strip of white lace still hooked on the branch and blowing like a flag in the breeze. Pam had to climb out and get it before Sister noticed. Eyes like a hawk, she’s got.’

  Abby was overwhelmed. Smoking, drinking, climbing through windows, boyfriends. It wasn’t how she had pictured hospital life and if her grandfather or Robin caught an inkling of it they’d throw a blue fit. She suddenly realized that she had led a very sheltered life thus far.

  ‘Right, that’s done.’ Flo straightened her apron. ‘The bathroom’s at the end of the corridor and dinner’s at six. Do you want me to come for you then? You don’t need to wear your uniform today but from tomorrow you will. Do you know how to put in the studs and rubber buttons and fold your cap?’

  Abby shook her head. The uniform seemed horribly complicated, especially the cap. How she was going to convert the large square of white material into a small, neat, wearable butterfly cap like Flo’s, she couldn’t imagine.

  ‘I’ll show you tonight before we go to bed. Now, I’ve got to get back to the ward before Sister has my guts for garters for being too long.’ Flo was halfway out of the door when she turned, saying, ‘Make the most of the next few hours, Abby. From tomorrow morning every minute will be accounted for and you won’t know what’s hit you at first.’ And on that cheery note she left.

  True to her word, Flo returned at six o’clock and took Abby down to the dining room. The room was large and bleak, but at least the walls were whitewashed rather than being painted in the sickly green colour that seemed to be everywhere. When they walked through the door the noise of chatter and laughter hit Abby after the hushed quiet of the corridors, along with the very distinct smell of boiled cabbage.

  Flo led her across to a far table. ‘The nurses all sit in order of seniority. Sisters are on that table over there, then the staff nurses on the one next to it, and so on. We’re on the juniors’ table, of course, and I hate to tell you, but you are the lowest of us all until another poor dogsbody comes. Starting from tomorrow, you’ll have to pass the cruets and man the water jugs and teapots, and cut bread for everyone on our table, besides going to the kitchen hatch for fresh supplies if we run out which we always do frequently. Sorry, Abby, but that’s the way it is. I was so glad when Kitty came after me, and she’ll be pleased you’ve started. Sometimes you hardly get anything to eat you’re dashing about so much, and I can tell you once I’m a senior I’ll never slice another piece of bread in my life.’

  Pulling out a chair on the table furthest from the kitchen hatch, Flo said, ‘Sit here.’ She introduced Abby to the girls nearest them and Abby looked at what the nurses were eating. The brownish substance on their plates was clearly meant to be a stew, but it had the consistency of water, and a few nondescript pieces of vegetables floated on the surface as though looking for a final resting place. The girls had great slabs of bread at the side of their plates that were being used for soaking up the insipid-looking mixture. Sinking down onto her chair, Abby swallowed uncomfortably. She had been feeling quite hungry, having been unable to eat any breakfast, but not any more.

  A girl at the far end of the table called to Flo. ‘Flo, do you and the new lass want any bread?’ She was hovering over an enormous loaf, a wicked-looking bread knife in her hand, so Abby assumed this had to be Kitty whom she was scheduled to take over table duties from. This was confirmed a moment later when the girl came to their side and deposited hunks of bread on the plates of food one of the dining-room maids had placed in front of Flo and Abby. ‘I’m so glad to see you,’ she said to Abby. ‘Perhaps I can sit down and actually eat my meal in peace tomorrow, without cramming food into my mouth whilst looking after this lot. I’m Kitty, by the way.’

  Kitty was the antithesis of the neat, slim Flo, being tall and heavily built with bright red cheeks and matching wisps of red hair escaping her cap. Her face was covered in freckles and she exuded an air of friendliness that was very comforting in the circumstances. Abby liked her immediately. ‘Call me Abby,’ she said quietly. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘And I’m Pam,’ another nurse further down the table called to Abby. This girl was a willowy blonde with a peaches-and-cream complexion, and huge blue eyes. She was what Robin would have labelled ‘a looker’.

  ‘Pam’s our Mae West,’ Kitty announced in a stage whisper. ‘Don’t let her lead you astray, Abby.’

  Pam smiled serenely, apparently unconcerned. ‘Life’s too short,’ she drawled, ‘and just for that insult to my good name I’ll have another slice of bread, Kitty, if you please.’

  Abby was beginning to relax. Her room-mates seemed a nice lot. She had missed the camaraderie of her bunch of friends at the high school since the summer more than she had realized, she thought, dipping her bread in the stew the way everyone else was doing. It tasted as it looked but she cleared her plate anyway; she was going to have to adapt to hospital food which clearly wasn’t like anything she had been used to. When she had made a stew at home she had left it slowly cooking for hours so the result was a thick, delicious meal that was mouthwateringly good.

  A stodgy pudding that masqueraded as a lemon sponge followed. The heavy, indigestible square of glutinous dough tasted of nothing and certainly didn’t have a discernible trace of lemon in it, and the custard was a thick congealing mass of lumps, but the nurses at the table fell on the food as though it was the best cuisine.

  ‘Wait till you’ve been here a day or two,’ Flo said, noticing that Abby had left her pudding. ‘You’d eat the table you’ll be so hungry after working on the wards.’

  ‘Is that pudding going begging?’ Kitty appeared at Abby’s side again. ‘I’m faint with hunger.’

  Abby passed her the dish and Kitty returned to her seat where she made short work of her second helping. Abby noticed no one else had refused their pudding, and when enormous jugs of cocoa were plonked on the table by one of the maids for Kitty to serve, again each girl drained her mug dry in moments. The brown, watery concoction was nothing like the thick milky drink of home, and Abby was beginning to realize that living on a farm had had definite benefits regarding food. Her grandfather and the rest of the farmer’s workers might be as poor as church mice on the wages they received for their hard labour, and there were no niceties like electricity or inside lavatories at the farm, but food and milk and cream had always been plentiful and mealtimes had been something to look forward to.

  She found her way back to the room alone; Flo and the others had dashed off to their wards as soon as dinner was over. Plumping down on the hard bed, she let the feelings of homesickness swamp her and had a good cry. Then she blew her nose, squared her shoulders and found she felt a whole lot better for letting the emotion out.

  She was sitting reading through one of her textbooks just after ten o’clock when the others came back to the room.

  ‘Phew, what a day!’ After grinning at her, Pam flung herself prostrate on the bed and lay dramatically still for a moment or two before leaping to her feet again and opening the window, ignoring Kitty and Flo’s protests as icy-cold air swirled into the room. ‘I’ve got to have a ciggy else I’ll die. I wish I hadn’t finished that bottle of gin I brought back from home, my mouth’s as dry as Deuteronomy.’

  ‘I’m glad it’s gone,’ said Flo grimly. ‘If Sister Duffy had found it under the floorboard where you hid it, we’d all have been in hot water.’

  Pam had already lit her cigarette and taken a deep drag, short bursts of smoke shooting out of each nostril. ‘She’s a fiend, put on earth to torment us all and me in particular. I don’t know why but she seems to think it’s her personal mission to catch me out. I swear the woman’s obsessed.’

  ‘Not that you ever give her any reason to doubt you,’ said Kitty drily, and then took one
of the cigarettes Pam offered round. ‘You’re such a bad influence,’ she said gloomily. ‘I’d given up smoking at Christmas.’

  Over the next half-an-hour Abby discovered Flo was a Newcastle lass born and bred and the only girl in a family of ten; Kitty was the oldest among them being twenty-two and hailing from Peebles some twenty miles away, and Pam was a farmer’s daughter from a village on the outskirts of Galashiels. Once they’d had a chat they started getting undressed, totally unconcerned with stripping off in front of each other. Abby decided, ‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’ and did the same, although not without some embarrassment. She had been brought up to think getting undressed was a private thing but was beginning to realize that this notion, along with many others, wasn’t going to work here.

  Once they were in their winceyette nightdresses and dressing gowns, visits to the bathroom followed, and then Pam had one more cigarette before shutting the window and turning the light off. A chorus of ‘Goodnight’s followed and within moments, or so it seemed to Abby, all three girls were gently snoring. She lay awake for some time, her head whirling with the events of the day and thoughts of Nicholas filling her mind, but the friendliness of her room-mates had soothed something inside her and she drifted off to sleep without more tears.

  It was in the middle of the night when she awoke from a nightmare with a violent start, her heart pounding fit to burst. She had been back at the farm but it hadn’t looked the same, and she had been wading through thick mud in a panic, unable to run but knowing something terrible was behind her.

  Up in front of her she knew Nicholas was trying to reach her – she could hear his voice shouting her name over and over again – but she could make no progress through the bog that was hampering every step. Desperately afraid, she fought with all her strength to move forward but the sounds behind her told her she was losing the battle. At the last moment she found the strength to turn and face the dark entity at her heels . . . and then she woke up.