Lovely Lane-04

by Nadine Dorries

  Aileen was frozen to the spot, so Elsie knocked on the door for her.

  ‘Come in!’ shouted the voice Aileen had heard so often during her working life but had very rarely spoken back to, other than from the end of a phone.

  ‘It’s Staff Nurse Paige, Matron,’ said Elsie as she began to close the door.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Elsie, I know who it is, I invited her to the meeting.’ Matron smiled, but that did nothing to ease Aileen’s nerves.

  Blackie lifted his head in his basket and growled, and Aileen’s hands became clammy.

  ‘Blackie, stop it, be a good boy.’ Matron took something out of the drawer in her desk and threw it to Blackie. He immediately lost interest in Aileen as he began to munch.

  ‘I imagine you are wondering why I have called you here,’ said Matron. ‘Do sit down, Staff Nurse Paige, and please, do stop shaking. Blackie won’t be interested in you while he’s chewing that strip of dried beef.’

  Aileen attempted to laugh. She would have been grateful for a smile. Nothing came.

  ‘Now, as you know, there is a vacancy for a ward sister on children’s ward.’

  Aileen nodded as she lowered herself on to the seat Matron had gestured to on the opposite side of her desk. Her auburn hair was tucked under her cap, her ponytail wound into a French knot and her uniform apron immaculate. Matron might be about to give her the worst shock of her life, she might be about to demote her or, heaven forbid, sack her, but if she did, Aileen would walk out of her office with her head held high. She did her utmost, every single day, to be the best staff nurse and, yes, the best daughter too, and she knew it didn’t always work out, but, regardless, she always did her best.

  Aileen often resented her mother, but no one would ever guess as she was loyal to her too, and if she lost her job would never in a million years blame her. Josie, her married sister, would blame her. She would not shy from making accusations nor waste her words. If Aileen did have to leave St Angelus, it would give her sister ammunition she’d use a thousand times over. Josie had never wanted Aileen to be a nurse. She had never understood. Josie didn’t do anything for anyone else if she could avoid it. But Aileen never responded to Josie’s complaints. She kept her own counsel and left her own disappointment with both her mother and her sister buried deep within.

  At first, when Matron spoke, Aileen had trouble following her words. She saw her lips moving and heard the clock above the fireplace ticking. She was aware of Blackie chewing through his strip of meat. Someone was sobbing outside, and she could even hear the chatter of staff and patients below the window as they walked across the main entrance into the hospital. But she couldn’t take in Matron’s words and Matron, looking up from her blotter, her elbows on her desk, leaning slightly forward in her chair, hands clasped, silver hair lighting her face as she peered over her glasses, half smiled, as though waiting for Aileen to respond. Aileen didn’t, couldn’t. Aileen was in shock.

  Instead of being reprimanded, demoted or sacked, she had just been given the most coveted job, a job she had not even applied for, believing she stood no chance of getting it. Matron was speaking again. She was waiting for a response. Aileen, calling on all the reserves she had within her, dug deep to deploy something, anything, but she was beyond stopping the tears that rushed to fill her eyes.

  Matron looked down at a letter on her desk and, lifting it, shuffled it into the bottom section of her in-tray, pretended she hadn’t noticed Aileen’s tears and carried on talking.

  ‘Ever since you started as a wartime volunteer at St Angelus, I’ve been impressed by your total commitment to your training and, of course, by your high exam passes. Sister Tapps is similarly minded. She has been advocating you for this role for the past two years. I am aware of the slight problem you had, but the plan she came up with to resolve it seems to have worked. I do remember your mother, when she was in here as a patient.’

  Aileen swallowed hard. Matron spoke again.

  ‘I know that things must sometimes be quite difficult at home.’ She was deploying a tone Aileen had never heard her use on the ward. ‘But I want you to know that I understand. Not many people know this, but I’m going to let you in on a little secret – after all, you are about to become a ward sister – it was impossible for me to look after my mother at home. I worked long hours in Liverpool, she lived in Lytham St Anne’s… Well, I want you to know that I think your devotion and commitment to your responsibilities both here and at home are to be admired and respected. They are values I understand and have empathy with.’

  Aileen could barely believe what Matron was saying. All she could do was stammer out her thanks. ‘Th… thank you, Matron. I… I will do my very best.’

  Matron laid down the pen she had been holding in her hand and looked up at Aileen. ‘I know you will. That is why I agreed that it should be you. I didn’t take a great deal of persuading. As I said, you have values, Staff Nurse Paige, values I admire and look for in my nursing staff. Many nurses would have given up on either their mother or the job, but you have stuck it out and shown admirable determination. I hope – indeed, I know – that we train all of our nurses at St Angelus to a very high standard. Sister Haycock sees to that. But what we cannot teach are what one could argue are the most important qualities in a nurse. Respect, empathy, kindness – above all, kindness – and, of course, a love for St Angelus, our patients and everyone who works here. I see all of those things in you.’

  Aileen shifted forward on her chair. She could hear the faint rumbling of Blackie growling in his basket behind Matron’s desk. He had swallowed the last of his treat and had once again focused his attention on the stranger in his domain. Aileen moved from being tearful to nervous in seconds. Blackie had a reputation and it was one Aileen respected. She was trying to say something more than thank you, which in itself seemed so inadequate, given the enormity of the honour Matron was bestowing upon her, but as she struggled to speak, only two words, words she had no intention of saying, left her mouth before she could stop them.

  ‘But… Mother?’

  Matron was more familiar with Aileen’s mother than she had led Aileen to believe. There was barely a nurse in the hospital who hadn’t heard of Mrs Paige. As soon as she had recovered the power of speech following her stroke, she had taken every opportunity to complain to Matron about every nurse who looked after her. It was hugely embarrassing and concerning for Aileen, who was living at the Lovely Lane nurses’ home at the time. She thought she would have barely a friend left at St Angelus by the time her mother was discharged.

  ‘Ah, yes, your mother. Well, far be it from me to interfere in your personal arrangements, but I do think it is about time your sister began to pull her weight, don’t you?’

  Aileen nodded. She was truly incapable of comment and if she did start to talk about Josie and her selfish ways, she might never stop.

  ‘Would you like me to write to her – your sister?’ asked Matron. ‘I did meet her a few times when your mother was here as a patient. I could explain to her the importance of your new responsibilities and how it will take a little more than Branna’s daughter to help.’

  Aileen shook her head furiously as she finally found the confidence to speak. ‘No thank you, Matron. I will deal with this. I shall explain to my sister that Gina needs someone to help with the running of the house and Mother. Gina has been marvellous. She’s reliable, and hard-working too. I couldn’t have managed without her.’

  Matron smiled. ‘I forgot to mention your ability to solve a problem too. Anyway, congratulations, Sister Paige. Your new uniform is waiting for you in the housekeeping lodge.’ She had left the drawer of her desk open and, slipping her hand inside, she took something out. She leant across the desk and made to give something to Aileen.

  Aileen instantly knew what it was and a gasp caught in her throat.

  Ward sisters at St Angelus hardly ever left their posts. Most worked until they were well into their seventies, so a ward sister vacancy was a rare
event. It crossed Aileen’s mind that she was probably the first nurse in quite a while to have risen through the ranks, from the nursing school through to staff nurse and on to ward sister level. There had been Sister Haycock, of course – it had happened for her a few years ago, and everyone had expected it because she was the favourite of the most senior consultant at the hospital, Dr Gaskell. But now here was Matron about to pass on to her, Aileen, a tradition that Aileen had assumed had ended with Emily Haycock’s promotion.

  Matron moved her hand closer. In it was something firm and flat, wrapped in tissue paper. ‘Go on, take it, it’s yours,’ she said with a smile. ‘Think of it as a Christmas present.’

  Aileen grinned and as she reached out to take the gift, her eyes met Matron’s and she instinctively knew that Matron understood how much this meant to her. She unwrapped it with as much decorum as she could muster. The tissue unfolded like the petals of a flower and there, lying in her own hand, was a St Angelus silver belt buckle. It had been specially designed to reflect the values of the hospital: in the middle was a ship, its mast standing proud, the river weaving around it, and behind was the old workhouse building that had become St Angelus. An angel hovered overhead, its wings sweeping around each side of the buckle and forming the central clasp. Aileen had on countless occasions seen Emily Haycock and other ward sisters grasping the wings on their own buckles as they hooked or unhooked their belts. She was speechless.

  Matron always loved this part. This was the sixteenth buckle she had awarded since taking up her post at St Angelus and every one of the recipients had been rendered speechless. The buckles were bespoke, hand-crafted to order by a silversmith in Bold Street. He had designed the buckle himself years ago and she loved it, especially the angel’s wings. The silversmith had recently written to her informing her that he was about to retire, so she had ordered ten, to keep in the drawer, ready.

  Matron spoke, to allow Aileen to savour the moment. ‘This may sound rather unconventional, but I have been told that the best way to clean it is with a damp rag and cigarette ash. Brings the buckle up a treat, apparently. I use silver polish myself.’

  ‘Matron, it is beautiful. I don’t know what to say,’ Aileen stammered. ‘It is all a huge Christmas present. It’s the best Christmas ever – or it will be.’

  ‘Well, off to housekeeping with you, to get measured up for your navy-blue Petersham belt. Give the seamstress the buckle and she will sew it on for you. I know she’s running up some new dressing gowns for the children for Christmas, so you had better get in quick.’

  Aileen practically floated out of the office, far too distracted to notice that Blackie had stood up in his basket and was eyeing the back of her heels. But she turned back as Matron spoke again.

  ‘Sister Paige…’ The words shot across the room and stopped her dead. They were words that only she herself had ever spoken aloud, to the mirror at night as she brushed her hair and dared to fantasize about such a possibility. ‘Don’t worry about your mother, we will manage. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems, you know. There is always a way around every problem. We sometimes just have to look a little harder than we are used to.’

  Aileen nodded, not really knowing how to reply.

  *

  As Sister Paige disappeared into the corridor, it was all too much for Blackie, who charged out of his basket, barking at the closed door. Matron sat back down at her desk and picked up her pen. ‘Oh do shut up, Blackie, you are all bark. Into your basket now.’ She began to fill in the bed vacancy report but found she couldn’t concentrate and wrote her last words twice. Laying down the pen, she stood and rang for Elsie, who appeared in a flash.

  ‘That was quick, Elsie,’ she said, totally unaware, even after all these years, that Elsie hung around the kitchenette’s green baize door whenever she had a visitor. ‘I think I need a cup of tea.’

  ‘Yes, Matron. And a nice hot buttered teacake?’

  ‘Why not,’ said Matron. ‘Yes, please.’

  She stroked Blackie and briefly wondered if she’d done the right thing. Both Sister Tapps and Sister Haycock had recommended Aileen for the ward three post, but Matron had had qualms, not least because Sister Antrobus had applied for the post herself. She picked up the phone and rang the school of nursing. Emily Haycock must have been at her desk because she answered almost immediately.

  ‘We have a new ward sister for children’s, one Sister Paige.’

  ‘Oh, bravo, Matron,’ Emily said. ‘She was one of the best student nurses we ever had in the school.’

  ‘I know. And she has one of the most manipulative women I have ever met as a mother,’ Matron replied. ‘My problem now is how to tell Sister Antrobus she has been unsuccessful. I think she had her heart set on this post and no doubt she’ll remind me yet again that Staff Nurse Paige – or rather Sister Paige, as she now is – has missed six days this year due to her mother’s supposed ill health.’

  Emily was full of sympathy for Aileen. ‘That’s as may be, but with regard to Staff Nurse, er Sister Paige, you have to ask yourself, what are the qualities required of a nurse on children’s ward and does Sister Antrobus possess them.’

  An image of the forbidding Sister Antrobus flew into Matron’s mind as Emily continued.

  ‘You are always saying that standards are everything and I don’t know anyone with higher standards than Sister Paige. Added to that, the patients absolutely love her. I don’t know of a better nurse, in every way. I cannot recommend her enough.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right. But her mother is a problem and if that problem persists, we will have to find a solution. Right now, however, I have another problem to deal with and that is what to do with Sister Antrobus.’

  ‘Ah, well, can I make a suggestion, Matron? The maternity department is working flat out. There are four sets of twins due over the next week alone. Perhaps you could put it to Sister Antrobus that you value her experience on maternity more?’

  Matron smiled. Emily Haycock was spot on, though she wasn’t about to let her know that. ‘That could be a solution.’ She could easily flatter Sister Antrobus into accepting that. She put the phone down and felt easier having shared her concerns with Sister Haycock.

  *

  As Matron swivelled her chair around from the desk to face the window and watched the visitors begin to trickle through the main gate, the St Angelus mafia was in full swing. Elsie had already got on the phone to Madge Jones on switchboard, who had got on to Biddy Kennedy in the school of nursing, who got on to Branna in the kitchen on children’s. Before the teacake was toasted, everyone knew that the hospital had a new sister, Sister Paige, and that Sister Antrobus was not about to be granted her wish.

  2

  Kitty held on tight to the handle of the pushchair, with Maura repeatedly reminding her not to let go, as they wandered down the main corridor of St Angelus, scanning the signs for one that said Children’s Chest Clinic. Maura’s hands were warm and clammy and she wasn’t sure who was the more scared, her or Tommy.

  They had failed to find the clinic so far and were too afraid to ask the way. They felt far too insignificant to bother anyone they had seen pass by so far. Maura opened her mouth as a serious-looking doctor strode past them, his white coat kicking out behind, his stethoscope strung around his neck and flying out in front, but no words escaped. In Maura’s world, you waited for someone as important as a doctor to speak to you first. Maura and Tommy both felt awkward. This was not their world of the docks and the streets, where they were both well known and respected. This was a world of education and disease. The first was a stranger to them all, the second a far too frequent visitor, both to their own home and to those of their dockside neighbours.

  ‘Ask your woman here,’ Tommy hissed as a lady in a starched navy-blue dress strode past at a very determined pace, her head held high, her frilled and elaborate cap spilling down her back, letting everyone know that she was a very important nurse indeed.

  ‘Why don’t you, you eejit! You
ask.’

  He failed. By the time Tommy had got his tongue around his words, the woman had disappeared.

  Maura nudged him as a group of nurses marched by. ‘Go on now.’

  The nurses were clutching at their black and red capes as flashes of their pink uniforms became briefly visible beneath. Their heads were angled close to one another, starched caps meeting in the middle, and they were whispering as they went.

  ‘What happened there then, Tommy? You’re gasping like a fish out of water,’ said Maura as they stared at the backs of the departing nurses.

  She looked directly at Tommy and, seeing the anxiety etched on her face, he felt helpless. He was, just as she said, a fish out of water and he would have given anything to be anywhere but St Angelus.

  Angela began to grizzle in the pushchair. She was uncomfortable and they could both hear the rattling in her chest, but the biggest worry for Maura was that Angela had stopped complaining. Angela had been labelled from birth as a crier and Maura proclaimed almost daily that if she’d been her firstborn, there would have been no more. They’d already tried everything they could think of to ease her cough – a visit to the priest, several doses from the miracle-cure-in-a-bottle that Kathleen had brought back from the west coast of Ireland, and a prayer request to the nuns at Mass the day before. But the morning had brought no improvement.

  Tommy had crept down the stairs on his way to his early shift, careful not to wake their other children, who had slept in the bed with him. As he tiptoed over to his dozing wife, he took one look at the dark circles under her eyes and the red rings around those of his precious daughter and made the decision to call in the doctor. The kitchen was lit only by the waning moon, the struggling flat grey dawn and the dying embers in the fire.