by Kate Eastham
‘No, no, Sister, I’m absolutely fine,’ whispered Alice, her voice genuinely hoarse. ‘Has the Reverend finished with Mr Lloyd?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ said Sister. ‘Are you able to go back and sit with him again?’
‘Of course,’ said Alice, wiping the towel around her face to dry the tears, before heading back to her patient and walking slap bang into the solid form of someone standing at the bottom of the bed.
‘Sorry, Reverend,’ sniffed Alice, ‘I thought you’d gone.’
‘He has,’ said a voice that Alice instantly recognized: Roderick Morgan.
‘Sorry, Mr Morgan,’ she said, her voice still husky and struggling to keep an even tone. She could see his profile in the semi-darkness, clear-cut against the moonlight coming in through the ward window. He was taller than the Reverend Seed, of course it was him. Alice had a strange ache in the pit of her stomach, her heart was beating like a drum in her chest, and she was glad of the darkness, so he couldn’t see the redness of her cheeks.
‘I was just coming back to sit with Mr Lloyd, but now that you’re here, do you want to sit with him, there, on the stool next to the bed?’
‘Thank you,’ said Mr Morgan, his voice quiet.
Alice saw him sit and grasp Ray’s hand; it shocked her to see the obvious strength of feeling in that one action. They must have been close, she thought, seeing straight away the sadness in the man’s demeanour. She was perfectly calm now, able to distance herself and get on with her job. She went straight to Mr Morgan and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He turned to her and tried to smile.
‘Thank you, Nurse Alice,’ he said, ‘I’m glad that you seem to be working nights as well as days.’
‘I am this week,’ she said. ‘I’ll be on night duty until they can find a replacement night nurse.’
‘I see,’ he said, turning back to his friend. ‘At least he doesn’t seem to have any pain, at least there’s that,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve seen too many die in pain …’
Then he fell silent, lost in his own thoughts.
‘We’ll look after him,’ Alice said softly.
‘I know you will,’ he murmured, turning to smile at her.
‘I’m just going to check on the other patients. Shout out if you need anything,’ she said. ‘I’ll hear you.’
‘I will, Nurse Alice,’ he said, reaching up to pat her hand where it rested on his shoulder.
‘And Alice,’ he said, as she turned to walk away, ‘please call me Morgan, no one uses Roderick.’
‘Morgan it is,’ she said, starting to feel the beating of her heart again with the sound of his name in her mouth.
Morgan stayed by his friend until the early hours of the morning; he wouldn’t take any rest or accept any refreshment. He just sat, lost in thought. Just as the morning light was starting to show through the windows of the ward, Ray Lloyd took his final breath. Alice heard Morgan call and she was there instantly, her hand on the man’s shoulder as he sat with his head bowed, shedding tears.
When Sister Tweedy came she said another prayer and then told Mr Morgan to make his way home; they would see to Mr Lloyd and make sure that he was washed and laid out in the proper way.
‘A very nice man,’ said Sister as Morgan made his way slowly down the ward. ‘A great deal of respect for his friend – not many will sit all night. He must be a good man.’
As Alice walked home that morning, she felt tired but also buzzing with energy, and a bit light-headed. She wanted to put it down to having been up all night, busy on the ward, her first night shift, and, yes, a good part of it was that. But it wasn’t just that, she knew it wasn’t. And it seemed as though fate had intervened yet again, and made sure that she and Roderick Morgan had met once more. To Alice, as she walked back through the early morning streets, it felt like they were on a collision course. She wanted, she needed, for her daughter’s sake if nothing else, to steer away. But she knew, there and then, that the way she was drawn to Morgan was instinctive. There was a connection that had started to form on the morning of Maud’s wedding when he’d rescued her from the cornermen. He intrigued her, and she knew that her attempts to steer clear were futile. If fate intervened and she saw him again she would have no choice but to follow her instinct.
9
‘… when the night watch begins at nine, the wards are dark, except the Nurse’s candle. A spare candle, unlighted, is always at hand.’
Florence Nightingale
The next day brought another night shift for Alice and she’d hardly slept. Her mind and body were completely thrown out. The buzzing excitement that she’d had going home that morning had been fuelled by the delight of seeing Victoria, fresh awake from a night’s sleep. Sitting with her, holding her, smelling her hair, whilst Marie worked around them, making some food, tidying the kitchen. There sat Alice with her daughter on her knee, still with thoughts of the work she’d done on the ward, of Sister Tweedy, poor Ray Lloyd, and, of course, Roderick Morgan, dancing in her head.
The bright daylight was shining through every window, and although she knew that she needed to sleep, and Marie was urging her to, her body wouldn’t let her. Only by late afternoon did she start to feel some exhaustion seeping through into her heightened state and she was, eventually, forced to lie down and take some rest. She was in a dead sleep until two hours later she sat up sharply, her heart pounding, the sound of Victoria’s cry having pierced her sleep. Once she was awake, there was no chance of any more rest. She got up, feeling sick and groggy, her head a heavy weight on her shoulders.
Alice still felt groggy as she walked to work. She had no idea how the night nurses managed this day after day. I suppose they just get used to it, she thought, as she wove through the people out on the street, making their way home, or staggering out of the pubs. The world was topsy-turvy all right.
Arriving in plenty of time, Alice was heading up the ward when she saw Millicent coming the other way, arm in arm with another woman, someone not in uniform. It was Nancy.
It hit Alice, as always, in the pit of her stomach, when she saw Nancy. As much as she tried not to let her get to her, she still hadn’t got full control over it. She knew that she would definitely be able to hold her own against Nancy now, she wouldn’t be bossed about by her, but the legacy of that time on the ward, when she was sickly and anxious, still lived with her. Maybe it always would.
Anyway, Alice held her breath and kept walking as Nancy and Millicent passed her on the other side of the ward. Luckily, they didn’t seem to have seen her. Glancing back, she was relieved to see that they had almost reached the door. Then Nancy looked back over her shoulder and met Alice’s gaze. And she leant in to whisper something in Millicent’s ear, still keeping her eyes on Alice before turning away. Alice saw Millicent giggle and then she too glanced back, before the two of them exited the ward, arm in arm.
Instantly Alice was annoyed with herself. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for Nancy’s tricks yet again. And seeing her face, with that triumphant look in her eyes, was infuriating. Alice physically shook herself as she walked up the ward, in an attempt to rid herself of the crawling feeling at the back of her neck that Nancy’s gaze had left with her. She could still see her face, and she was desperate to free herself of it. Then something struck her: there had been something different about Nancy. She didn’t look quite the same, and now Alice was actively trying to recall every detail. She was in her ‘going out’ clothes, maybe it was that. But no, there was something else as well; her face was a bit flushed, a bit rounder in shape. Just being able to note that difference really helped Alice to distance herself. It made the Nancy that had just walked down the ward not the one that she’d been overpowered by last year. It made Alice remember that Nancy didn’t work at the Infirmary now, she was working out in the city, miles away. Alice hoped that the work of nursing a private patient was really suiting her, and that she would never decide to come back to the Infirmary.
‘Nurse Sampson,’ shou
ted Sister Law. ‘Stop dawdling and get up here.’
Alice almost laughed out loud. It felt a relief to be harangued by Sister Law, to be snapped back into reality. Despite her exhaustion, she knew in that moment that she was really looking forward to her second night shift with Sister Tweedy.
‘We’ve just had a visit from one of your set, Nurse Sellers,’ said Sister Law, when Alice reached the top of the ward. ‘Do you remember her?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Alice calmly, glad that she’d seen Nancy leaving the ward, and that she’d had a chance to deal with her feelings about the woman before Sister brought her up. ‘I’ll never forget Nurse Sellers.’
‘Well, I just wondered if you remembered anything at all from last year. You were always so distracted, so pale and sickly looking, you seemed like you had a lot on your mind,’ said Sister Law, her eyes bright and seeking information.
Alice stood her ground; she didn’t blush or try to stammer a response. She simply stood, silently holding Sister’s gaze.
‘You’re different now,’ mused Sister, shifting her gaze down the ward, before fixing on Alice again with narrowed eyes. ‘I can truly see the makings of a nurse, a good nurse at that … but you’re still pale and your cap is limp, always limp. So don’t get above yourself, Nurse Sampson. Even though Sister Tweedy was very pleased with your work last night and she seems to worship the ground you walk on. Do not get above yourself. You still have a great deal to learn and a great deal of work to do. Understand?’
‘Yes, Sister,’ said Alice, with a straight face, although inside she was grinning from ear to ear.
Alice was prepared tonight. She made sure that she grabbed a pillow off a spare bed to put down on the floor for Sister Tweedy as she knelt for the prayer.
‘That does feel better, Nurse Sampson,’ she said as Alice helped her up. ‘I will try to remember to use it in future. I will be sorry to lose you from the night watch; I think you’ll be back on days tomorrow. The night superintendent will be along to the ward later to confirm, but it seems they might have a new night nurse.’
Alice couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed – she was starting to feel at home in the night-time world – but she did need to complete her training, and there was more experience to be had on days.
On this, her second night, Alice was more prepared for the dark. She made sure to carry a candle with her and take tasks over to the table in the middle of the ward where the oil lamps stood. She was mainly seeing to patients as they called out, while they were trying to settle to sleep. She was busy and didn’t have any time to think about how very tired she felt. Passing the bed that had been Ray Lloyd’s, she felt a shiver go through her body as she thought about him, the poor man who she had never known, who had died there last night. And the man who had sat beside him – she had been thinking about him all day, she couldn’t get him out of her head. ‘Well, Alice,’ she muttered to herself with mock sternness, ‘unless you need rescuing from the cornermen again, you won’t be seeing him any time soon, so you might as well forget it.’
The patient in the bed now, a Mr Knox, had been to theatre that day. Mr Jones had removed a large lump from his chest wall, some kind of growth, Sister Law had said. They were hopeful that now the man had come through the operation things would go well for him. But Sister Law said the growth looked suspicious; it was probably cancer.
Alice couldn’t help but feel for the man, who had no inkling of Sister Law’s thoughts about his situation. She’d told them as she gave the night report that Mr Knox was a sailor, a good-natured sort who’d worked in ships his whole life. He’d been homeward-bound from Australia, and all that time, the lump had been growing. He hadn’t said a word to anyone about it on the outward journey, he didn’t want to worry the rest of the crew, but by the time they were heading home, he was struggling to hide it and it was interfering with his work. The ship’s surgeon had taken one look, shaken his head, and said he daren’t touch it, not out there in the middle of the ocean. Mr Knox had told Sister Law that he’d been desperate to get back to Liverpool. He’d told her that coming home was the slowest voyage of his whole life.
Alice could see that the man was still sleeping off the chloroform; she would go to him later and check the dressing, make sure there was no seepage of blood. And she would see if he could take a sip of water.
‘Nurse, Nurse, I need a urinal,’ shouted the man from the corner of the ward who she had attended last night. But this time she already had one in her hand. After stumbling about in the dim light last night, she’d made sure to be better prepared.
‘Coming, Mr Nugent,’ she called, only bumping into one other bed before she got to him in plenty of time.
By the time all the patients were settled and Sister Tweedy’s rounds were done, Alice was beginning to feel a bit heavy in her body and fuzzy in the head. She’d started out the night a bit groggy but still buzzing, and she’d been ready and able to match the level of activity on the ward. She wasn’t sure now what was happening to her body, but she had a tingly feeling in her limbs, and she was starting to feel a bit numb.
‘I’m just going to check on Mr Knox,’ she told Sister Tweedy, her voice a little slurry.
‘Yes, Nurse Sampson, good idea. I was going there myself but I need to get some laudanum for Mr Nugent. Let me know if he needs anything for his pain, will you? When he comes round from the chloroform, he might be sickly and he probably won’t know where he is. You sit with him, make sure he’s all right. I left a flask of brandy by his bed earlier – give him some of that if he wakes up.’
‘Yes, Sister,’ said Alice, already walking towards Mr Knox’s bed.
The man was still flat out and she didn’t want to disturb him, so she set her candle down at the side of his bed and then gently turned down the sheet to look at his dressing. That must have been quite some lump, thought Alice, seeing the size of the dressing, secured by a bandage around his torso. I hope it heals up for you, Mr Knox, I hope you do well, she said in her head, as she pulled the sheet back over him.
The stool was still by the bed from the night before, so Alice sat on it, right there where Morgan had kept vigil for his friend. There she was, watching over her new patient, but also thinking about him again, and starting to feel a tickle of excitement in the pit of her stomach. How ridiculous, she thought, scanning every detail of her patient’s face, trying to dislodge any thought of Morgan with almost physical effort.
She could tell, even though he was sleeping, that Mr Knox was indeed a good-natured sort. The lines on his face told her that he was someone who regularly smiled and laughed. Even as he lay asleep, he looked as if he had a smile on his face. His grizzled chin and his thinning grey hair, swept back from his forehead, matched what she knew: that he was a man in his sixties. His face reminded her of her father. She wondered if Mr Knox was a quietly spoken, deferent man, like Frederick Sampson. Somehow she didn’t think so, seeing the arms that lay outside the sheet, covered in tattooed anchors, ships and, on one arm, an exotic bird. And on the other arm, the thin, fading line of someone’s name, so ancient that it was illegible in the dim light. Probably some sweetheart from long ago, thought Alice, with a sigh, starting to feel sad for him and then yawning as she made every effort to fight off that fuzzy, heavy feeling that was creeping over her whole body.
Well, Mr Knox, she thought sleepily, I wish you well, I hope you have someone out there who loves you, and I hope you don’t mind me sitting by you, keeping watch. I’ll just rest my arms on the bed here next to you …
Alice had no idea what happened next; all she could think afterwards was that she must have blacked out from sheer exhaustion. What came seemed like a deafening noise that could wake the dead. So loud, or so it seemed to the sleeping Alice, that she shot up on her stool, nearly fell on the floor, and knocked her candle over, snuffing it clean out.
‘Sleeping on night duty!’ hissed a voice from nowhere.
‘Sleeping on night duty,’ insisted the voice
again, after Alice had righted herself on the stool, desperately trying to make sense of where she was and what she was doing. She could not only feel the breath of the speaker but smell the tinge of brandy on it as well.
‘We’ll see about this!’
Alice was unable to speak – and what could she say? She had no idea what had happened. And now she could hear Mr Knox groaning in the bed. Although she was terrified by what had just happened, she was, most of all, sorry for any harm that it might have caused him.
She was on her feet now, her mouth dry and her heart pounding.
‘Please, please,’ she said, trying to focus through the dim light on the shape of the woman next to her. ‘Don’t make any more noise, I don’t want any of the patients to be disturbed.’
‘Any of the patients disturbed,’ repeated the woman. ‘Disturbed … what about the neglect, the dereliction of duty?’
‘But I—’
‘No buts, Nurse. You have no say in this. I am the night superintendent, I can dismiss you now, on the spot. You are a disgrace to the uniform you wear.’
‘Please, please, I need this job,’ Alice almost sobbed, breathless now, as the reality of her situation began to dawn.
‘You may need this job, but does this job, this very important job, need a thoughtless, incompetent nurse like you?’
‘She isn’t thoughtless,’ piped a voice from the bed. ‘She’s a very good nurse.’
The superintendent immediately switched her gaze to Mr Knox, as he lay on his bed. She didn’t seem to know what to say.
In that moment, Alice, her head still swimming, started to get the measure of the woman: she was tall, with broad shoulders, wearing a high, starched collar and a cap knotted tightly beneath her chin. Her mouth was set in a thin, straight line. She carried a lantern which she held up now to Alice’s face.
‘The patient speaks highly of you,’ she said, ‘that might be in your favour. However, I will have to confer with Sister Tweedy as to what our course of action will be. It might be possible for you to be given one more chance,’ she said, implying that Alice made a habit of falling asleep at her patients’ bedsides.
