I read the note over her shoulder. ‘It’s maniacal all right; but it’s still a line. Of that I’m sure.’
‘Another hunch?’
I thought it over. I had not wasted any thought on Bill at all yet; now I considered him and his note. ‘Yes. Call it that.’
‘What are you going to do? Don’t you want to go?’
‘Not particularly. Even if we were allowed to.’
She agreed that it would be unwise to accept. ‘The men can break with precedent and get away with it. We certainly can’t. What are you going to say to him?’
I rinsed my tooth-mug, collected my wet apron, and picked up my cloak. ‘I’ll tell him the truth. I’m growing wise at last. So wise that I’m going to get my last lecture written up before Sister Tutor has to chase me again. Have a nice day-off.’
She called me back. ‘You’ve forgotten your shoes.’ As I pushed my feet into them she asked, ‘Don’t you feel rather hard done by, not being able to accept? A ball’s always fun ‒ and you’d have a front seat at all the gossip. You’d see who the S.S.O.’s asked. That should be amusing.’
‘I doubt it,’ I replied casually. ‘It’ll probably be Bennings in the end. I see quite enough of her on duty. I’d rather go to bed early.’
When I got out into the corridor I discovered I was breathing carefully. This was going to be difficult, very difficult. This was the one time when the girls would have to do without their good laugh. I had never minded being laughed at before; but never before had I felt about any man as I now so suddenly and irrationally felt about Jake Waring.
Josephine returned from her day-off looking radiant. I was in bed when she came in and switched on the light in my room. ‘Hallo, Rose! How’s Francis?’ Then, without waiting for an answer, she hastened to tell me she had had the most glorious day. ‘Rose, I’m too happy to talk about it, but I’ll tell you everything some other time. Now I’d better go and make up a clean cap. See you in the morning.’
For once I did not feel like talking either. ‘You do that. So glad you had a good day. Give me a shout if you don’t hear me getting up after the bell.’
She promised to bang on the wall and added that she didn’t think she would sleep a wink. She went out humming to herself.
I was pleased she had had a happy day; we had not had a happy afternoon in Francis, and to-morrow looked like being equally hectic. Roberts’s condition was quite satisfactory, but we had had another heavy operation list that afternoon; Erith had spent four hours in the theatre, and Bennings had been tireless in her work and her lectures to myself. The only good thing about that long afternoon and evening had been that the pressure of work had entirely prevented me from having any private thoughts. Now that I had time to think I was far too sleepy. I seemed only to close my eyes and then I heard Josephine thumping on the wall that divided her room from mine. ‘Rose, the first breakfast bell’s gone! Are you up?’
I told Josephine about Roberts as I gulped my breakfast. I was half-way through when Night Sister rose to say grace. We jumped up, swallowed what we could surreptitiously as we stood with bent heads behind our chairs; then, still chewing, we raced off towards Francis. ‘MacGill,’ I continued breathlessly, ‘says she often has hunches. She says you can’t always go by the book.’
She blinked and managed to look dreamy with her mouth full. ‘I take it all back, Rose. I thought I could run my private life according to the book too. It seems I can’t; and I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to find I’m wrong.’
‘All well between you and Gus?’
‘His name’s Guthrie! I suppose Angie told you? Yes, all’s superbly well ‒ but here we are back in dear old Francis, and I mustn’t start thinking of Guthrie or I’ll take to dropping things, like you. I say!’ She gazed at me. ‘I suppose you aren’t in love, Rose? Is that what ails you?’
I hung up my cape. ‘But of course! How did you guess?’ I beamed like the Cheshire Cat. ‘Taking to having hunches too?’
She smiled back. ‘Rose, you’re bats!’
I had no opportunity to reply to Bill’s invitation that day; next afternoon in my off-duty I wrote a brief ‒ and, I hoped, civil ‒ reply thanking him for his invitation but saying that I did not consider myself sufficiently strong-minded to face the break with tradition, much as I loved dancing. And if he wants Josephine now, I added mentally, he can try asking her. He’s too late, but I doubt that that will worry him. Probably competition’ll spur him on. Then I got to wondering if that was not one of the fundamental differences between the male and female angle on such affairs. If a man belonged to someone else, I automatically lost interest in him; but I had frequently heard my brothers saying that so long as the bar was not an actual wedding-ring the presence of another man in the picture only added spice to the situation. Or was that simply the attitude of mind of the very young male? Possibly, I decided, licking the envelope. Well, Bill Martin was very young, a mental eleven ‒ if you were being kind ‒ was the conclusion I reached.
I left the note in the porters’ lodge on my way back on duty just before five. The lodge stood at the entrance to Casualty Hall; the Hall was a short-cut to all the wards and officially not allowed to be used as such. Unofficially it was used as such constantly. I looked round for a dark blue dress. Sister Casualty was not in sight. I did not know anything about her or had even set eyes on her, but I had been long enough in the hospital to retire at once at the sight of a dark-blue dress. The Hall was sprinkled with patients and a staff nurse was standing in the doorway of one of the dressing-rooms, looking away from me. I crossed the Hall quickly, turned right by the Eye Department, and was half-way down the little corridor that joined Eyes with the main corridor when I met Angela.
She said she was in a frantic hurry to get some wet plates from X-ray. Her hurry did not prevent her stopping to chat with me. ‘Rose, have you seen that poster?’ She gestured towards Eyes. ‘There’s another in the main corridor. I’ve just been admiring it. It’s a smashing poster ‒ makes the Ball sound fascinating. Aren’t you wishing you had the nerve to go? They’ve booked a splendid band.’
I said I had not noticed the poster and was not going to change my mind. ‘I’ll come back with you and have a look at it. It’s only ten to five ‒ so I’ve got the time.’
We walked back through the Eyes corridor and stopped at the poster. It was very attractive. Angela murmured something I did not catch as we stood admiring it. I guessed she was repeating herself. When Angela had a point to make she had a habit of doing that. ‘It does look fun,’ I agreed, ‘and if I wasn’t a first-year I’d leap at the invite. I adore dances, but I don’t want to break any more unwritten laws. I’ve done quite enough breaking already without going out of my way to do it with my eyes open. And what in the world,’ I added intentionally, ‘do I care whom the S.S.O. takes! The man couldn’t interest me less.’
She did not answer, so I glanced round. Then I saw she was not there. I turned right round, wondering what had happened to her. She was standing about ten feet away, looking very pink in the face and listening to Sister Martha, who was looking very displeased. Angela was pink-faced; I think my own must have changed to scarlet as I saw who was standing directly behind me reading the poster over my head.
As I could not ignore him … I said rather nervously, ‘Good evening, Mr Waring,’ and then wished my mother’s training in good manners had not sunk so deeply under my thick skin. Good manners as ordained in the outside world do not apply in a hospital. This was no case of a lady recognizing a gentleman but of a sub-human junior daring to address one of the two most senior residents in the hospital. By the expression on the S.S.O.’s face it was clear that he had not forgotten that we were standing in Martin’s.
‘Evening, Nurse Standing.’ He withdrew his gaze from the poster momentarily, then studied it again without another word.
I hesitated. He must obviously have overheard the words I had thought I was saying to Angela. I wondered if I ought to apologize. I look
ed up at him and decided against it. Only make matters worse. I walked away and back to Francis as quickly as if Bennings were on my track.
Bennings certainly spent most of that evening on my track, but her scolding rolled over my head. I had too many other things on my mind to bother with her. Roberts cheered me a lot that evening. He was now free of his enclosing curtains and well enough to tell me how he felt. ‘Proper poorly I’ve been, Nurse Standing, an’ no mistake. But that Mr Waring done another good job on me, I reckon. He says as I’ll be a new man once I get rid of this new packet and won’t have no more trouble not ever. And you know, Nurse, I feel that in meself, I do. Sort of stronger, even though I’m what you might call weak as a kitten still.’
I had just finished my evening tidying in the sluice when Bennings returned from her supper and came to inspect my work. ‘Nurse Standing, those bowls are still dirty! Wash them again at once.’ She ran her fingers along the top shelf. Her fingers remained clean, but she said the paintwork was stained. ‘You must get it and keep it white.’ Then she walked over to the sink. ‘If you allow your draining-board to get as wet as this the bottoms of your detergent packets will get soggy’ ‒ she picked up one vast packet to prove her point ‒ ‘and give ‒’
But she did not have to say any more, as what she was about to forecast happened. The sluice was deluged in white powder.
I was holding an armful of stacked enamel washing-bowls. I said apologetically, ‘I’m awfully sorry, Nurse ‒ it’s all over your feet and legs. I’ll just get a cloth and then I’ll mop the rest.’ I dumped the washing-bowls on the draining-board; I was not looking at the bowls but at the mess, so I did not dump them carefully. They promptly rocked, then overbalanced into the sink. The sink was full of hot water, which naturally overflowed to the floor. The water and the detergent powder mixed as magnificently as on the pictures on the packets, and in a couple of seconds the sluice floor and Bennings’s feet were hidden in a bubble bath. I stood stock still, uncertain whether to laugh or cry. Bennings, not surprisingly, was furious. She was also practically speechless. She only gasped, ‘Nurse Standing! Really!’ And with a flick of her apron skirts swept herself and a large number of bubbles from the sluice.
I leant against the sink and began to laugh weakly. Then I took a string-cloth, the floor-mop, and a bucket, and cleared up the mess. I had just finished when Sister Francis returned from her own supper. She glanced in at the open doorway, then stopped. ‘That does look very nice and clean, Nurse Standing,’ she said with an approving smile. ‘I am glad to see you take such pains with your sluice, but you have no need to wash the floor. The floors are not your work. But I have to admit a newly washed floor does finish off your cleaning very nicely.’
I told the girls about it at supper. ‘Just imagine, I was doing the right thing at the right time! You can’t imagine how this has helped my morale! None of you are going to know me in future. I’m going to turn over a new leaf. I’m going to listen with both ears, keep my eyes open, walk quietly, say nothing. Discretion will be my middle name. After another four weeks in Francis even Bennings will be eating out of my hand!’
Angela said, ‘But you aren’t going to have Bennings for another four weeks. The change-list has just gone up outside Matron’s Office. Sister Martha told us; so I tore down before coming to supper. You’re leaving Francis at the end of this week, Rose.’
I knew they expected me to be delighted, so I beamed. ‘Goody!’ I thumped the table. ‘I’ll hate leaving the men, but, apart from that, it’s the best news I’ve had in years. Where am I going? Not that it matters. Anywhere will be a sinecure after Bennings.’
Home Sister called sternly down the table. ‘Less noise, Nurse Standing ‒ if you please. And unless, perhaps, you wish us all to join in your conversation it might be advisable to lower your voice.’
I said, ‘Yes, Sister. I’m sorry, Sister.’
‘A new leaf,’ murmured Angela, ‘isn’t that what you said, Rose? Quiet, discreet, tactful. That’s you, dearie.’
Bill Martin rang me at the Home that night. ‘What’s all this about having cold feet?’
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘but that’s what I’ve got. I’m no pioneer; not even an instinct for a revolution ‒ and I do like a quiet life.’
He laughed. ‘You do, eh? Well, not to worry, love. Uncle understands. And if you look like having a quiet life let me know. I’d like to be in on it.’
‘I’ll do that.’ I thanked him again for asking me. ‘I hope it’s a good party.’
‘It’ll be that all right. Too bad you’re going to miss it. Some other time perhaps. See you around in Francis, Rose.’
‘Not much longer you won’t. I’m moving to Casualty at the end of the week.’
He whistled down the receiver. ‘Are you, indeed! There’s a thing, now.’
‘Why? Something unusual about a first-year in Casualty?’
‘How you do harp on about your first year, love!’
‘Difficult not to. It gets dinned into us all the time.’
He laughed again. ‘You take Uncle’s tip and don’t take it too seriously. Never take anything too seriously ‒ although I doubt that I have to tell you that. You aren’t the serious character some of your colleagues become.’
I made a face at the receiver. So much for taking people at their face value. I promised Bill not to become serious.
‘That’s the form, Rose. Cheers for now. See you around Cas., then. That should be interesting.’
‘Why?’
‘Cas. is an interesting place,’ was all he said as he rang off.
Chapter Six
A PRO.’S EYE VIEW OF MIDWIFERY
In the middle of the next morning Erith was sent off-duty with a suspected attack of appendicitis. Sister Francis had to rearrange the pros.’ off-duty, and I found myself with another free 2 to 5 p.m. I went for a walk in the nearest park, fed the ducks, and thought about leaving my nice men in Francis. I did not think about Jake Waring. I did not think about him on purpose. I was now getting very good at lecturing myself à la Bennings about having ideas above my station. I gave myself a really high-powered talk on thinking only of my job, Casualty, the future, and not reaching for the moon or believing in fairy-stories. Cinderella was a good story, but she did at least have one chance to meet her prince on equal terms; it needed no imagination to realize how impossible that was ever going to be for me. It would be roughly three years before I approached the strata of nurses in training who mixed socially with even the registrars; the S.S.O.’s appointment lasts two years. I did not know how long Jake had been S.S.O.; I only knew it would never be long enough.
When I returned to Francis, Josephine was looking harassed and weary. ‘Rose, it’s been ghastly. Everyone has been on the warpath! The S.S.O. has shot between us and the theatre like a jet; Sister’s spent half the afternoon in Matron’s Office; and that poor wretched Bennings ‒ hell though she had been ‒ has carried the ward, Sir Henry’s round, chaperoned for Dr Gretton, who would choose, to-day to look at Simmond’s heart, done all Erith’s work, and organized the theatre men! She has blown me through the roof a couple of times for form’s sake, but, Rose ‒ can that girl work! She staggers me! No wonder she got a gold medal.’
I reached the same conclusion for the hundredth time myself before another hour had passed. At six I came to a far more novel and surprising conclusion. I discovered Bennings was human.
She glided into the clinical room, where I was stacking the flower-vases for the night. ‘Nurse Standing, those flowers,’ she pointed to a vase on the floor, ‘are dead.’
I apologized and said I would throw them out instantly. ‘Not to-night,’ she replied calmly; ‘there’s no time. Have you got a cold?’
I stared at her. ‘No, Nurse.’
‘Sore throat? Sore finger?’
‘No, Nurse.’
‘And what, apart from your routine, haven’t you done?’ I thought a moment. ‘Seven’s back, Eleven’s dressing, Fourteen’s pou
ltice, Thirty-four’s mouth, and the extra fluids.’ She nodded.
‘Right. I’ll do them. And the drinks. Elsie can cope with suppers alone for once, then Sister and I will do the routine between us. Sister wants you to go to Mary now.’
‘To ‒ Mary, Nurse? To-night?’
‘Yes. For the evening. They are having a crisis and must borrow a pro.’
I thought, And what are we having here? My expression must have shown my thoughts, because Bennings laughed ‒ she actually laughed ‒ not at me, but with me. ‘In Mary, Standing, a crisis is a crisis. We may be hectic here, but no general ward can touch Mary when it comes to a real crisis, and they simply have to have an extra pair of hands to-night. We are the one ward with a Sister and Staff Nurse both on duty this evening, so we can lend a pro. most easily. Take your cloak and go there now; then when you finish don’t come back here to report ‒ go straight to supper and then Chapel. All right?’
I said, ‘Yes, Nurse.’
She seemed very amused about something. ‘Sister and I can manage the pros.’ routine, Standing,’ she said drily. ‘We ‒ er ‒ were once pros. ourselves, although I doubt if you’ll believe me when I say that.’ She disappeared then, leaving me to collect my cape, scurry off to Mary, and think what a pity it was that poor Sister Francis could not be struck down with something too, as then obviously Bennings would soften into a truly pleasant person.
The maternity block lay at the opposite end of the hospital. I took a short-cut across the park and walked as quickly as I could, but I was not quick enough for Sister Mary. She stood, a short, well-corseted, red-faced woman, waiting impatiently for me in Mary corridor. ‘Are you the junior from Francis Adams, Nurse?’ she demanded as soon as I appeared at the head of the stairs.
‘Yes, Sister.’ I pulled off my cape. ‘I’m Nurse Standing.’ She told me to bustle to, immediately.
‘I haven’t got all evening to waste here in the corridor. Come with me.’ She marched into the kitchen and thrust a diet-sheet into my hand. ‘First I want you to see to the suppers. My mothers are sensible and co-operative women; they can all eat what they choose; that list is to help you get your numbers straight. I have no time to take you round, so you’ll have to find out for yourself who is who. If you want anything I’ll be in the large nursery’ ‒ she opened the kitchen door and pointed out a door ‒ ‘that door there. Remember, you must not enter either nursery without a mask. Now, to return to the suppers, you will need’ ‒ she had closed the kitchen door and now opened the fridge door ‒ ‘milk.’ She took out a vast jug, closed the fridge, and opened a cupboard. ‘Here you will find cocoa, meat extract, tea. Do the food first ‒ Kate, my ward-maid, will be up with it directly; then take round the drinks. When you have done that come into the nursery and help me with the babies. It is all quite straightforward routine. Do you understand what you have to do?’
The First Year Page 9
