Lovely Lane-04

by Nadine Dorries

  Matron placed her fingers to her lips and they were all suddenly very aware of each other’s breathing. At first there was nothing to be heard or seen and Matron almost let out a sigh of relief at the realization that this had been a false alarm. The child had been fantasizing after all. Maybe she had just wanted to see Sister Tapps so much that she had manifested an image of her in her mind. She turned to Aileen and was just about to suggest that they return to ward three when they heard the faintest sound.

  ‘Was that a mouse?’ whispered the superintendent.

  ‘No,’ said Matron, ‘I don’t think so. Shhh.’

  Once again they all stood and waited. It came again and this time it was louder and unmistakably the sound of a child. Aileen’s heart was racing and her mouth dried with anticipation and fear. She reached out and grabbed Matron’s arm.

  Matron raised her hand. ‘Let me and Branna go,’ she said. ‘If it is Sister Tapps, she has known us both for many years. Branna, come.’

  The police officer and Aileen stepped aside to let Branna past. Matron and Branna walked towards the room the noise had seemed to come from – Emily Haycock’s room. They stopped again and listened and the noise came again, but this time it was much louder and then they heard a thump and a moan of pain.

  Matron wasted no more time. She turned the handle and as she opened the door her hand flew to her mouth. It was not the fact that Louis, the missing baby that had caused so much trouble, was lying on the bed and kicking his legs, safe and sound and healthy. It was the sight of Sister Tapps, yellow, sallow and painfully thin, on her knees at the side of the bed, both of her hands clasped over her abnormally distended abdomen.

  It took her only seconds to regain her composure and she took control immediately. ‘Branna, take the baby over to ward three and hand him over to Nurse Tanner. Sister Paige, help me with Sister Tapps.’

  She didn’t have to ask. Aileen was already on her knees beside Sister Tapps, who appeared to be in too much pain to be aware of who was around her.

  ‘Officer, please hurry down to the casualty unit and ask them to get a stretcher up to the accommodation landing, and to send Dr Mackintosh up here as quickly as possible. Tell him to bring some pain relief with him.’

  The superintendent immediately raced along the landing at breakneck speed.

  A minute later, Branna was walking at the pace of a trot with Louis in her arms. As she entered the ward and the nurses saw who she had with her, they were greeted by what was at first an outburst of disbelief, which morphed into delight and then concern.

  ‘Where was he?’ said Pammy.

  ‘Matron said I was to hand him over to you,’ Branna said, passing him over very gently.

  Pammy felt a rush of pride followed by a warm glow. ‘Matron said that?’ she asked, her voice full of disbelief.

  ‘Yes, that’s what she said.’ Branna had already decided that this would be the first thing she would tell Maisie when she saw her.

  ‘Good job we left his cot made up. Who said they thought he was still here, eh?’ Pammy never let an opportunity pass to score a point over Beth. ‘I did, that’s who. I knew he wasn’t far.’

  ‘I’ll fetch him a bottle for you. He looks hungry,’ said Beth, ignoring Pammy as she made her way to the milk kitchen.

  ‘Sister Tapps is in a terrible state,’ said Branna to Pammy. ‘Matron has sent for your Anthony and a stretcher.’

  ‘Oh God, no. Why?’

  Branna looked as though she was in shock. ‘I’m no doctor and I’m sure I haven’t a clue, but I know this, it’s not good.’ She didn’t want to say to Pammy that she’d seen enough people die at home who looked in a better state than Tappsy had just now. In the village she came from in Ireland it was the way. Hardly anyone went to a hospital: they got sick, were tended to by local women, given potions and medicines that bore no name, and then they died. Branna blessed herself, took her rosaries from her pocket and then, leaving the nurses, went to phone Biddy over in the school of nursing.

  *

  Matron sat and held Sister Tapps’s hand as Dr Mackintosh examined her. The rash that covered her torso, her wasted frame and the symptoms she had managed to describe before the morphine injection had dulled both her pain and her senses were all too familiar to them both. The nurse on casualty had passed a catheter at Dr Mackintosh’s request and the smallest offering of dark brown urine told the final story.

  Matron could tell that the casualty nurse was nervous in her presence and so, not wanting to make anything worse for her beloved colleague and friend, she squeezed Sister Tapps’s hand and decided to remove herself to the doctors’ room. She paced the floor while she waited for Dr Mackintosh and it was not lost on her that she was behaving like so many of the visitors she had comforted over the years.

  Doreen, the casualty clerk, arrived at the door with a cup and saucer in her hand. ‘I’ve brought you some tea, Matron,’ she said, placing it on the table then slipping away again.

  Matron would have smiled if it all hadn’t been so serious. How many times a week did Doreen do exactly that for an anxious family member?

  When Dr Mackintosh eventually returned, his expression was pained.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Matron said as she leant against the desk, her hands folded in front of her. ‘You don’t have to spare me. It’s CA isn’t it? Advanced too.’

  He moved to the sink to wash his hands. ‘Sadly, you are absolutely right. I’m afraid it is cancer. That rash tells me it’s in her liver and there is almost no kidney function. Her body is unable to drain away the toxins, so they’re building up in her skin, hence that pinpoint rash that’s so intolerably itchy. I have no cure for that, unfortunately. And the pain, well, you could see for yourself.’ He ran the hot water and soaped his hands. ‘I’ve palpated her abdomen and there are a number of masses. I can’t even begin to guess where the primary is, but I’m afraid that’s of no consequence now. There is no way she can be operated on. She had a quite noticeable abdominal ascites, so I drained off a fair amount of fluid, which might relieve some of the discomfort.’

  Matron wanted to say so many things. About how Sister Tapps had dedicated her life to helping others and no one had done anything for her in return. She felt remorseful and terribly sad that this woman with whom she’d worked for so many years would never be given the acknowledgement and public thanks she deserved. There would be no retirement party, no cards, no thank you speeches – and no retirement.

  ‘How long does she have?’ she asked him as he pulled down the roller towel to dry his hands.

  Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he let out a long, deep sigh. Sister Tapps was no ordinary patient; she was one of their own. An important person in the St Angelus family and one who got on with the job of caring and nursing. No one ever doubted that with Sister Tapps her patients came first – to the point that her dedication riled some of the other sisters.

  ‘She’s had a maximum dose of diamorphine and can have that again in four hours along with an oral diuretic and cortisone. My guess is that we can rally her, but it will just be for a few days.’ His voice dropped as he looked up and saw the tears in Matron’s eyes and the almost imperceptible tremble of her bottom lip. She may be experienced, know everything there is to know about running a hospital, but this was something she could never possibly have imagined, even in her worst dreams. ‘A week at the most.’

  He hesitated for the briefest moment. Was it appropriate to hug Matron, he wondered. He didn’t care if it was or not. His instincts took over and he strode across the room, opened his arms and enveloped her. He felt her tears wet on the side of his face before she bent her head and they were absorbed by his starched white coat.

  ‘This is hell,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how you feel, but I’m asking myself why I never talked to her more. She was always asking about me and my family and I can’t even think what I know about hers. She is the kindest sister in this hospital. She took the baby because she knew nothing else but how t
o care for others.’

  Matron nodded and his starched coat crackled against her cheek. She pulled away, removed her handkerchief from her pocket to wipe her eyes and said, ‘I’ve known her for nearly forty years. We arrived here at almost the same time and I have so taken her for granted. She was just always here doing the job, never asking for anything, not until she had a difficult patch a few years ago.’

  ‘I heard,’ said Dr Mackintosh.

  ‘I shouldn’t have sent her away for Christmas. I had no idea she’d lost touch with her niece and nephew. I sent her off because I could see she’d lost weight and I thought she was working too hard. She told me her sister had died, but I assumed she was going to find her relatives, to make it up to them somehow.’ She let out another deep sigh and folded the handkerchief neatly back into her pocket. ‘But look at me – so impatient to have things my own way, I didn’t ask enough questions. And now I can’t even throw a party for her on the ward she loves, something I’ve been thinking about doing for years. I’d already planned her retirement do, but now I’ve lost the chance to even tell her how much she is loved by the families around here. Look at the child who saw her at the window, she only saw and recognized her because she thought the world of her.’

  Matron walked over to the window and looked out at the hospital complex. She had got many things right during her tenure at St Angelus, she was not so full of self-doubt that she did not know that, but perhaps she should have done things differently when it came Sister Tapps.

  There was silence for a few moments as she let what was happening sink in. ‘Let’s have her transferred to the ward. I will nurse her myself. I will stay by her side until the end – it’s the very least I can do to pay her back for the service she’s given to this hospital.’

  ‘She’s been in a lot of pain and I intend to keep that under control – that’s the best I can do for her.’ Dr Mackintosh’s words were loaded and his eyes met Matron’s. She didn’t question what he meant. They both knew. When the time came, he would not see her suffer.

  Matron nodded. There was no need for words. It was what they did for every patient who required it when the end came.

  ‘We’ll give her another injection of diamorphine at about six o’clock and then again at ten and again at about two in the morning, unless you call me sooner. I’m going to put in another shot of the cortisone too. Just give me four hours – she won’t be in pain and I think we’ll see her come to. The itching has been driving her mad and we have to strike the balance with the cortisone and diamorphine to stop that.’

  Again Matron simply nodded. There was a tap on the door and she shouted, ‘Come in.’

  The young nurse who had tended to Sister Tapps popped her head round. ‘Sister is awake now, Matron. She says she’s feeling much better and would like to go to the ward.’

  Matron and Dr Mackintosh looked at each other and smiled.

  ‘God, she’s remarkable,’ he said.

  ‘Tell Sister I shall be there in just one minute,’ said Matron.

  When the door was closed, Dr Mackintosh ran his fingers through his hair and asked, ‘Which ward do you want her to be nursed on?’

  ‘Her ward. I shall be looking after her myself. I’ll tell Dessie to put an adult bed up there and light the fire, and we’re away.’

  Dr Mackintosh didn’t seem surprised by her response. ‘Do we know who her family are?’ he asked.

  ‘I do,’ said Matron. She lifted her head and looked straight at him. ‘We are, and her ward is her home.’

  *

  Over on ward three, Baby Louis had settled straight back in.

  Beth was trying to plug in a record player one of the parents had carried all the way up the stairs together with several records of Christmas carols.

  ‘Right,’ said Pammy, ‘let’s put this one on. Have you got the needle ready?’

  ‘Yes. Give it to me.’ Beth placed the record on the turntable and then, biting her lip in concentration, she moved the arm across and laid it gently on the record.

  ‘It says here that’s a diamond stylus,’ said Pammy, who was reading the instructions the parent, Mr Thomas, had given her as he left.

  ‘We always play these records at Christmas, Nurse,’ he told her. ‘I don’t care if we don’t have them at home, but I want our Richard to be able to listen to them if he can. If Sister doesn’t mind.’

  ‘I do not mind in the slightest,’ Sister Paige had said. ‘I just don’t know how you managed that record player on the bus, Mr Carter.’

  ‘I’d do anything for my boy, Sister. We only had two, me and the missus. The first one died in the war and then, lo and behold, this one arrived. The missus called him a change baby, because, you know, she was on the change and that’s why he is like he is, a bit slow and different, like, but that doesn’t mean we love him any the less.’

  Richard was susceptible to chest infections and was a regular on ward three. But this was the first time he’d been a patient over Christmas. He usually made it through to the end of January before he was admitted.

  The sound of a male choir singing ‘Silent Night’ filled the ward and Pammy turned off the main lights. She carried Louis on her hip and walked into the bay with him to join the other nurses and patients. Once the parents had left, they’d pushed the beds and cots into a semicircle around the Christmas tree. There was a strange quiet among the children. Some of them were reading and looked up from their books and smiled at Louis in her arms, some were sharing a jigsaw puzzle on a bedside table, and others who weren’t so well were lying on their starched white pillows, staring into the fire.

  Pammy went over to Sister Paige, who was sitting by the fire filling in a Kardex on her knee. ‘Look at this little fella,’ she said, nodding at Louis, who was almost asleep in her arms. ‘You would think he had lived here all his life.’

  Aileen looked up. ‘That would be lovely for me if he did, but not for him, sadly.’

  ‘You aren’t going to be like Sister Tapps and the others,’ said Pammy. ‘You’ll get married soon, you will. I think that policeman was sweet on you.’

  ‘Was is the word,’ said Aileen. ‘He won’t even look at me now.’

  Pammy wanted to ask why, but thought better of it. Sister Paige had just returned from calling in to see her mother and she did not look best pleased. She walked over to the window with Louis to show him the river and saw a trolley being wheeled across the courtyard from casualty. It was taken through the side doors that led to the ramp to the lift. She could tell by the white hair splayed against the white pillow that it was Sister Tapps. Dessie was pushing the trolley and Dr Mackintosh was escorting it on one side, Matron on the other.

  She turned to Sister Paige. ‘Sister…’

  She didn’t have to say any more; the tone of her voice was enough to alert Aileen, who placed the Kardex on the chair next to her and joined her at the window. Dessie was just lining the trolley up to take it through the doors.

  Pammy blessed herself then kissed Louis on the head, just as the choir on the record player faded and the needle began to scratch round and round.

  23

  It was Christmas Eve and Aileen had been sitting at her mother’s bedside for almost an hour, dutifully enduring her grumbles, as she always did, and never once challenging her over her behaviour or the fact that she had deceived Aileen for so long.

  ‘The tea is cold… You aren’t visiting me often enough… Josie hasn’t been anywhere near… I can’t bear the food… There’s nothing wrong with me now…’

  As the litany of complaints continued, Aileen felt her patience slipping away. She thought she might scream soon. But at least it was a distraction from thinking about Freddie. Having to see him yesterday in her office on the ward had been excruciating. They’d effectively ignored each other and it had broken her heart. When she’d bedded down in the sisters’ accommodation last night she’d sobbed and sobbed, into the small hours.

  She sighed, looked down the ward and was bot
h surprised and relieved to see Sister Antrobus bearing down on them like a great white shark with prey in its sights.

  ‘Oh God in heaven, here’s that awful woman – thank goodness you’re here, Aileen.’ Mrs Paige reached out with her bad hand and grabbed Aileen’s.

  Aileen stared down, amazed at the force in her mother’s grip.

  ‘Don’t leave me! She’s a tyrant.’

  Aileen was sure that this was exactly what the nursing staff thought of her mother. She was grateful to them for taking on the burden of caring for her over Christmas; it was a welcome reprieve from her routine responsibilities and she had already thanked Matron for making it happen. Despite all the sadness around losing Freddie, moving into the accommodation block had brought a feeling of lightness and unexpected relief. It felt almost like she was going on a vacation, and even if she was still working on the ward, which was certainly no holiday, she had been temporarily liberated from what was really her second job. She had forgotten what it felt like to wake up and only have herself to think about. It was bliss.

  She had paid Gina two full weeks in advance and told her to take her own holiday. ‘You enjoy a break too, Gina,’ she’d said.

  Gina wasn’t so sure. She’d come to care so much for Aileen, she didn’t want to leave her alone over Christmas. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own? You won’t be lonely, will you? Mam and me, we have loads of food in, why don’t you come to us after you’ve finished on Christmas night?’

  Aileen’s heart melted. ‘I’d love to, but I still have to visit Mother every day and that will include Christmas evening. I promise you, though, I won’t be lonely. It will be the busiest day of the year on children’s ward.’

  Sister Antrobus’s voice boomed out as she approached. ‘Now then, Mrs Paige, it’s time for your enema. I’m sure Sister Paige has a lot to do up on the children’s ward.’ She reached up and with one deft tug pulled the curtains all the way down from the head to the foot of the bed, then strode round to finish the job on the opposite side.