Pack Up Your Troubles

by Pam Weaver

  ‘She does that to everyone,’ said Eva.

  Connie was calming down but she wasn’t ready to let go yet. ‘Then there was that day when she found the dust in the room I’d just cleaned …’

  ‘The old cow has been doing that one for years,’ scoffed Betty. ‘She had a pair of white gloves on, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Connie slowly.

  ‘Some of the older girls have told me about it,’ said Betty. ‘She makes a big thing of putting on one glove and keeps the other in her hand, right?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ said Eva.

  ‘And when she comes out of the room,’ Betty went on, ‘she’s got both gloves on and one of them has a dirty finger. Am I right again?’

  The two girls looked at her with blank expressions.

  ‘That’s because she’s already blacked it with shoe polish.’

  Neither girl spoke.

  ‘It’s a set-up,’ cried Betty. ‘There was nothing wrong with the room you cleaned.’

  Connie was trying to recall everything that happened and Betty was right. She had searched that room from top to bottom but she’d never found the source of that black smudge. No wonder if it was boot polish!

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ gasped Eva. ‘That’s an awful thing to do.’

  They looked from one to the other and burst out laughing. ‘The crafty old cat!’ cried Connie.

  Betty got up from the bed. ‘I’ve got a bottle of sherry in the wardrobe. Fancy something to drink, girls? Connie?’

  Connie blew her nose noisily.

  ‘She’s up for it,’ said Eva. ‘Is that a letter from Kenneth?’

  Connie blushed. ‘From Roger, actually.’

  Eva grinned. Betty poured the sherry into the one glass she had stashed in her wardrobe and some more into the lid and a third lot into her tooth mug. Eva got the glass, Connie the tooth mug. Connie sipped slowly. Even though the mug was clean, the sherry still tasted vaguely of toothpaste.

  ‘Ga always pulls me up on my shortcomings,’ said Connie. ‘She was convinced from the start that I’d never make the grade. Do you honestly think I can do it?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ cried Eva. ‘You’re a really caring person, Connie. Just the sort of nurse the new NHS will need.’

  ‘Don’t let Matron see that you’re getting into a flap,’ advised Betty. ‘Find a way to bring her down to size.’

  ‘She’s pretty small if she has to resort to such mean tricks,’ said Connie.

  ‘Atta girl,’ said Eva, giving her a hearty pat on the back.

  ‘Anyway, enough of that,’ said Betty. ‘Have I got a juicy bit of gossip for you!’

  Connie and Eva looked up.

  ‘Sister Hayes is leaving,’ said Betty. ‘She’s pregnant.’

  ‘But she’s not married,’ Connie blurted out.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Betty. She puffed up her chest and imitated Sister Hayes as she was on their first day. ‘This hospital has a good reputation for clean living gels with fine upstanding morals. We don’t allow men in the nurses’ home under any circumstances.’ Betty paused for effect and then lifting the lid of the sherry bottle to her lips added, ‘Sound advice if you don’t want to get in the family way, gels.’

  And all three of them roared with laughter.

  It was supper time and Matron made a surprise visit to the women’s ward. ‘We are short of nurses in the special clinic,’ she announced to Sister Wayland.

  ‘We don’t usually send the students,’ Sister reminded her. ‘Dr Saunders prefers the older nurses.’

  ‘Needs must, when the devil drives,’ Matron said coldly. ‘Who have you got on duty?’

  Sister Wayland read out the names on the duty roster.

  ‘Give me Nurse Dixon,’ said Matron.

  Connie put Mrs Meyer’s meal on the locker and with an apology left her chewing a morsel of fish. Mrs Meyer had little appetite these days and she knew she hadn’t got long to live. It had taken a while to trace her daughter who lived in Kenya but she was now on her way. They’d told Mrs Meyer she was coming, and somehow it kept the old lady going. As Connie did her best to encourage her to eat a little more she couldn’t help wondering how she would feel if her mother was taken ill when she was twelve thousand miles away. She could only hope and pray that Mrs Meyer’s daughter got here in time to say her last goodbye.

  ‘You will report to the special clinic,’ said Matron. ‘Have you any objections to that?’

  Connie shook her head. ‘No, Matron.’ What was the special clinic? Connie was dying to ask but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Matron turned and walked away. A couple of seconds later, she came sailing back down the ward, her mouth looking as tight as a cat’s bottom. She was holding up a stocking. Connie braced herself.

  ‘What’s the meaning of this?’

  Connie stared at her blankly. ‘I don’t know, Matron.’

  ‘I found it attached to the cupboard door,’ said Matron. ‘You have just come from that cupboard, haven’t you?’

  ‘I needed to get Mrs Meyer a new gown,’ said Connie.

  ‘Don’t answer back,’ Matron snapped.

  Connie thought about protesting but what was the point? The woman had already made up her mind Connie was responsible for putting the stocking there and nothing would change it. ‘No, Matron.’

  There was a loud bang and Sister came running. ‘Who has been messing around with the cupboard door again? I thought I told …’ The words died on her lips as she saw Matron. ‘Excuse me, Matron. I thought you’d gone.’

  Matron puffed out her chest. ‘I had until I saw what this stupid nurse had done.’

  She threw the stocking in Connie’s face and turned on her heel saying, ‘Please remember that this is a hospital ward, nurse, not a changing room.’ And with that she swept out.

  There was another loud bang. Sister bent to pick up the stocking. ‘Someone spilled some cleaning fluid on the floor,’ she said. ‘I kept the door open with the stocking to assist the drying. If it’s not tied back, it bangs all the time.’

  Biting back her tears, Connie returned to her patient. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Meyer, but I have to go. I am needed elsewhere. I’ll get Nurse Frances to help you.’

  ‘You’re trembling, dear,’ the old lady said with effort.

  Connie smiled even though she was struggling to keep a lid on her emotions.

  ‘Take no notice of that miserable dried-up old prune, dear,’ said Mrs Meyer. Connie felt a bony hand patting hers. ‘Remember what I said and think of her with her knickers around her ankles.’

  And despite everything, Connie laughed.

  *

  Stan almost missed the lane, it was so well hidden by undergrowth. At the end he was faced with two doors. They were unmarked but the doctor had said one was for women and the other for men. For a second, he panicked. Which one was which? All at once, the door opened and he was face to face with another man. Keeping his head down, he went in. As the door closed behind him, the man was lighting up and he could see his hand was shaking.

  The reception area was small with seating around the walls. He went to the hatchway and he was handed a card with a number on it. X527. The nurse on the other side, some old bat with grey hair, smiled and asked him to take a seat until the doctor called him. This was the worst bit. He was in mortal fear that he would see someone he recognised.

  *

  Connie discovered that the special clinic was for patients with venereal disease. Patients accessed the clinic by a back entrance and the nursing staff used an internal yellow door. She was dreading this but she also realised that as unpalatable as it might be, a good nurse had to deal with all patients with all sorts of problems and from all walks of life. Her first lesson was not to judge a person. She had been assigned to look after two women, X65 and X495. X65 was about thirty-five, a brassy looking woman who smoked incessantly. Her language was crude and according to her notes, she had been to the clinic several times. X495 was much younger.
A respectable looking woman dressed in a smart suit and a faded fur, she had only been married a couple of years. Although no one asked for details, she made it clear that she was mortified to be in the clinic. She told Connie she had only just discovered that her husband had been visiting what she called a house of ill repute and that he had passed something unmentionable on to her. Connie’s heart went out to her and she did her best to make her feel at ease.

  After the doctor had seen them both, he said he was popping out for a fag. As soon as she was dressed, Connie walked X495 to the door.

  ‘Do I have to come again?’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Connie sympathetically. ‘The treatment is for six days.’

  ‘Don’t waste your sympathy on that witch,’ muttered the doctor as he came back in and the door closed. ‘She might look like the cat’s whiskers but she runs a brothel just outside the town centre. I pity the man who gave her that. He’ll probably have no chance of fatherhood by the morning.’

  ‘But I thought …’ Connie began.

  ‘That X65 was the worst?’ said the doctor. ‘Raped when she was six, and used by her mother’s men friends until she left school. I wouldn’t say she’s got a heart of gold but no one deserves what happened to her in life.’

  Connie was stunned. A nurse called another number. ‘X527. X527.’ There was a movement on the other side of the screen and the nurse said, ‘Right this way, sir.’

  Connie followed the doctor back into the women’s section.

  *

  Stan had been sitting in the corner until she called his number. He had reached for a magazine from the table but then it occurred to him that someone else might have already picked it up and he changed his mind. You never knew what filthy disease they might have. Instead, he leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes and tried not to think about the itch that was driving him mad.

  When the nurse called him into the other room, he had to go behind a curtain and undress. While the doctor took a swab, he stared at the top of the man’s head. He had a wart in the centre. It didn’t have hairs on it like his mother’s wart on her top lip, but it made him shudder. Thinking that his examination had hurt him, the doctor apologised.

  ‘Does it hurt you to pass water?’

  ‘It burns.’

  ‘I think that without doubt, X527, you have gonorrhoea,’ said the doctor, returning to his seat and writing up his notes. ‘The swab will ascertain whether or not this is so, but you will commence treatment straight away. You will need to come back for daily injections.’

  ‘Daily?’ he spluttered.

  ‘I think six days should do the trick,’ the doctor went on. ‘This new Penicillin therapy has had some very promising results.’

  ‘But every day?’ he complained. ‘It will be hard. I have commitments.’

  ‘If you cannot manage the night clinic,’ said the doctor, ‘we can put you down for the day clinic. It starts at ten o’clock but of course there is always the risk that you might bump into someone you know. Would that be better?’

  ‘I think I’ll stick to the nights.’

  The doctor motioned to the nurse and she brought a small tray with a glass syringe. ‘I cannot stress the importance of maintaining the full treatment,’ he said. ‘Drop your trousers again, X527.’

  On the bus on the way home, he sat on the edge of the seat. Now he had an unbearable itch and a sore backside.

  *

  Connie went home as soon as she’d finished her late duty and caught the last bus back to Goring. The house was in darkness when she walked in. Everyone was already in bed. Her heart was heavy. If Ga moved as well, this place would soon be a thing of the past. Pip greeted her lavishly and it occurred to her for the first time that he would soon be without a home. What was going to happen to him? Ga wouldn’t keep him. She’d never liked him. He was far too old to go all the way to Australia and she certainly couldn’t look after him in the nurses’ home. That realisation added another layer to her heartache. She went to bed and cried herself to sleep.

  She was dreaming that she was eating an ice cream, but for some reason the cone kept slipping into her ear. It was so cold she woke up to find Pip with his head on the pillow, breathing into her ear. She pushed him away sleepily but a second or two later, he was back. She opened her eyes and he made for the open door and looked back, his tail wagging. Obviously, he wanted to go out. Connie groaned. Swinging her legs out of the bed, she groped for her slippers.

  As she was pulling on her dressing gown, Connie heard an unexpected noise. Someone was downstairs. Why didn’t Pip bark? She crept out onto the landing, Pip padding along just ahead of her. Should she wake Clifford? If she did, the whole house would be awake and she’d feel a right idiot if it was nothing. She didn’t put on the light as she went downstairs. Afterwards, she wondered why she hadn’t. It would have been far more sensible and a lot safer. A light would have sent the burglar running.

  She and Pip padded along the passageway to the sitting room door. As she walked in and turned on the light, she wasn’t sure which one of them was the most surprised, herself or Isaac Light. Pip had stopped right next to her and she grabbed his collar.

  There was a canvas bag on the sofa and Connie could see a couple of silver picture frames sticking out of it. Isaac was riffling through the contents of the roll top desk and he had found some cash. There were several pound notes in his hand and he held a letter opener. As soon as he saw Connie, he held the letter opener at arm’s length and advanced towards her. Pip growled and he stopped in his tracks.

  ‘Put it down, Isaac,’ said Connie quietly, ‘or I let the dog go.’

  Isaac dropped the letter opener and the money.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ Connie asked. ‘My family has shown nothing but kindness to your family. Is this how you repay us?’

  ‘Kindness,’ he spat. ‘Is that what you call it? You sit here in your cosy little house with all this …’ he waved his arm extravagantly, ‘this stuff, while we get shoved from pillar to post. We’re not all dirty gypos you know. Some of us want to make an honest living.’

  ‘When did you get out of jail?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘Yesterday,’ said Connie, ‘and here you are today, robbing the very people who tried to help you.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing,’ he said baring his teeth. ‘Even my bloody van’s been taken away.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Connie. ‘If it’s not there, that’s only happened recently. It was there a couple of weeks ago because I saw it. Kez has moved over to Slinden.’

  He looked surprised.

  ‘Kez and Simeon have a place over there,’ she went on. ‘They’ve set up in business together making toys. They’re doing quite well.’

  ‘While I’m left on the rubbish heap.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ said Connie. ‘They want you back. Half of this is your fault anyway. They went all the way to Portsmouth to see you but you wouldn’t see them.’

  ‘That’s right,’ he said sulkily. ‘Blame me. Everybody blames me.’

  ‘Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself,’ said Connie crossly. ‘And keep your voice down unless you want the rest of the family to hear you.’

  ‘I never done what they said,’ he hissed.

  ‘I know you didn’t,’ said Connie. ‘And what’s more important, Kez knows that too. She believes you and so did Reuben. I know how much you’ve suffered.’

  At the mention of his father’s name, Isaac’s face coloured. ‘What do you know about suffering?’

  Now Connie was furious. ‘What do I know about suffering?’ she hissed. ‘I work in a hospital where half the people who come there have come far too late to get help because they can’t afford to pay the doctor’s shilling. What do I know about suffering? My family are going to the other side of the world and I’ll never see them again. My own brother is in a hospital with half his face blown away and only a stump for a hand. What do I know about suffering? I work bloody hard to ma
ke a living, so why can’t you get off your backside and do the same?’

  She had surprised herself with her own passion and Isaac’s cocky attitude was somewhat deflated. ‘Are you going to call the coppers?’

  ‘I think I should,’ said Connie. ‘They’d come and take you down to the station straight away. Of course, you’ll be locked up again. Remember how small the cells are? But of course you do. You must be really keen to go back seeing as you only got out yesterday.’

  Isaac’s face had gone white. ‘Please,’ he said faintly. ‘Don’t tell.’ He went to the bag and took out the photo frames. ‘I won’t do it again.’ He dug deeper and took out Clifford’s silver cigarette case, her mother’s best teapot, several other items, including her mother’s silver thimble. ‘Please don’t tell,’ he kept saying. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry about your brother too. I don’t want to be locked up again. I can’t stand it.’

  ‘You should go and see the Frenchie,’ said Connie, her voice softening. ‘He’ll give you another chance, I’m sure. He helped your father.’

  ‘He can’t help me,’ said Isaac, the old belligerence coming back. ‘I went there. The place is all locked up.’

  Connie frowned. ‘All locked up?’

  ‘He’s gone,’ said Isaac. The bag was empty and Isaac backed towards the French doors.

  ‘Have you had anything to eat?’ Connie asked.

  ‘I’ve already helped myself to a pork pie … thanks.’

  Pip growled again. Isaac put his hand up in a defensive gesture and slipped out into the night. She let the dog go and closed the French doors.

  ‘You wanted to give him a second chance, didn’t you?’ she said patting Pip’s side. ‘Let’s hope we made the right decision.’

  The dog licked her face and Connie felt strangely emotional. She bent down and put her arms around his neck. ‘Good boy,’ she said quietly. ‘Good boy, Pip.’

  As she stood to her feet, Connie knew she wasn’t alone. There was someone in the hallway. Dear God, had Isaac brought someone else with him to the house?

  ‘Who’s there?’ she said cautiously and her mother stepped into the room. She was in her dressing gown, her hair in a long plait at the side of her head. Her eyes were red and she had obviously been crying.