‘Christmas, Sister? It’s not Christmas yet?’
Sister smiled. Her manner had mellowed with me lately. ‘Nurse, Christmas Day is next Tuesday. Have you forgotten?’
‘I had, Sister. I thought we had just begun December. I’m so sorry. But I really don’t mind about my half-day. Any day will do.’
‘Is your home too far off for you to reach it in a half-day? Bad luck, Nurse, but thank you for being so accommodating. This means I can let the nurses who live near London have priority. Now, about your work this morning. You have been in the medical room for a long time, and I consider you are now capable of running it alone for one morning. If you get into any difficulty come to me. But I expect you will be all right.’ She explained that she was one staff nurse short. ‘Nurse Blake is doing her Christmas shopping, and I cannot spare Nurse Astor, as the dressers are changing over to-day, and I must have my experienced nurses in the surgical rooms to show the new men what to do.’
The morning passed quietly for me, as I chaperoned alternately for Doctors Ross and Linton. The two men always worked well together and never wanted me at the same time. They and I had now become old professional friends, and they always greeted me with an amicable, ‘Well, Nurse Standing ‒ how’s trade?’ and wished me, ‘Good morning’ or ‘Afternoon’ when we met in the medical room. When we met in other parts of the hospital they looked correctly through me. Their varying attitude to myself made it far more easy for me to accept that fact that once again Jake Waring was ignoring me. Naturally, being so junior, I never even chaperoned for the S.M.O. or S.S.O., and when I worked with the surgeons it was only with the house-surgeons in the dressing-rooms. I often wished that this rule did not hold, but knew there was no sense in wishing for the impossible.
The years dividing us stretched blackly between us; even blacker was the thought of Sister Casualty. I had seen her stern and pleasant; in either mood she was an attractive young woman with an original personality. It used to fascinate me to watch her almost as much as I watched him. There was something about Sister that I had not met before and could not place; she was no ruthless Bennings, efficient but cold-blooded; nor a gentle figure-head like Sister Francis; and she was like no woman I had ever met outside a hospital. She seemed utterly absorbed by her work, seldom took her full off-duty, and yet managed to remain composed and even-tempered, despite the incredibly long hours she worked. I watched her with Jake whenever I had the opportunity. I knew what the hospital was saying, and that knowledge was what seemed so black; but when I saw them together, again, and again, it seemed to me that they behaved as very old and good friends and nothing more. My brother Hector once said, ‘If a man and woman don’t light a spark in each other at sight, Rose, they never light it. All this rubbish about love growing gradually is ‒’ Hector used a word my mother would not allow in the house. With Hector it was a term of endearment, and I could never think of him without that word. I kept all this to myself; I knew none of the Cas. girls would agree with me. Each one of them was convinced a romance was blossoming in our midst.
Astor had been at the Rugger Ball. ‘You wouldn’t have recognized Sister, Standing. She had her hair on top of her head and long ear-rings, and she looked out of this world! I’m sure that’s why she’s leaving. Positive.’
‘Is she really leaving?’ I remembered what she had said on my first morning and reminded her of it. ‘When?’
‘Can’t say for sure, as she hasn’t said anything to me, of course. But Davis has been tackled by Matron about staying on as Sister Casualty when her time is up in ‒ two months, I think. I expect they’ll work together for a while, then Davis will take over. We won’t want two Sister Cas.s.’
‘No, of course not. Then’ ‒ I concentrated on the gauze I was packing into a dressing-tin ‒ ‘I suppose Sister’ll retire to become Mrs S.S.O.?’
Astor laughed. ‘High time. They’ve been going steady for years. But Jake Waring’s obviously no ardent, high-speed lover. He reserves his speed for the theatre. Still, they are both old enough to know what they are doing, and if they’re taking it slowly it must be because they like it that way. But it’s a pity.’
‘Because Cas.’ll lose Sister?’
She nodded. ‘Cas. and Martin’s. She’s so ‒ I hate using the corny expression, but I must ‒ absolutely born for the job. You can train most normally intelligent girls into good nurses, but you can’t train anyone to be what Margaret Mercer is. It’s ‒ her whole life. I’m not really surprised she’s taken so long to accept poor old Jake. He’s a nice man, but she’s more than half in love with her job. Must be the hell of a wrench.’
I asked, ‘But you think she’ll make it?’
‘My dear ‒ of course. She’s a woman. What woman doesn’t fundamentally want marriage and a family above all else?’
I very nearly said, ‘But she isn’t an ordinary woman.’ Only I did not like to, in case she might wonder why I was so anxious for Sister Cas. to remain an active member of the nursing profession.
I thought over what Astor said, and decided she must be right. I was rotten at judging people, and Hector must be wrong for once; or else this long-standing affair was the exception to prove his rule.
At lunch that day I asked Angela if she knew Christmas was so close, and was delighted to find she too had forgotten the date.
‘Rose, who wouldn’t? One day is just like another here. I never even know if it’s the week-end or a weekday; I lost track of the calendar when we left the P.T.S. Christmas!’ She gazed gloomily round the large, bare dining-room. ‘I can’t visualize Christmas here. Wonder what it’ll be like?’
‘Didn’t you work over Christmas when you were part-timing?’
‘No. They gave us all a week’s holiday, and we started again a couple of days after Boxing Day. Certainly, I’ve always heard that hospital Christmases are a riot; but between you and me I can’t see how. Patients go on being ill, Christmas or no Christmas.’
‘I suppose so.’ And, for the first time in hospital, I was homesick. I thought of my parents and the boys and friends dropping in, and parties and fun. But here we were within a week of Christmas and I had forgotten the date. I agreed with Angela. I too had heard all the legends; like her, I did not see how there could be any truth in them. ‘I’m off from two to five,’ I told her, ‘and I must do my shopping for the parents and the boys then. When are you off?’
‘Been. This morning. I’ll do mine to-morrow.’
When I reported off duty at two Sister asked me if I would mind returning to duty an hour early. ‘I’ll make the hour up to you some other day, Nurse.’
I was so thrilled at being asked to work overtime that I would gladly have missed all my off-duty. When we were unusually pressed in Cas. Sister had occasionally asked the other girls to do this, but had never bothered to request my help before. I said I should be very happy to return at four. ‘I’m only going shopping, Sister.’
She replied amicably, ‘Do not worry if you get delayed by the traffic; but if you can manage it I shall be glad to use you.’
I promptly decided to avoid the West End and the worst traffic. I could buy my parents’ presents locally, and the boys could have gift-tokens and so save the inevitable, ‘Dear sister, I love you more than life itself, but can you see me in this tie?’ or, ‘Rosie, let’s face it, if I start using scented shaving-lotion I’ll be only one step removed from a Teddy boy.’
When I got back to Casualty at four Sister was standing in the Hall talking to Jake. She did not notice me until he said, ‘Sister, does Nurse want a word with you?’
She turned and smiled at me. ‘Shopping all finished, Nurse? Splendid! Will you go and take over in Room Nine? Ask the nurse in there to go to tea. They are still fairly full, but I think you will be able to manage. Do exactly as you have done in the medical rooms; that is, supervise and organize the patients; wait on the Casualty Officer, but leave the dressings and treatments to the dressers. And if you get any problem you do not understand co
me out here to me.’
‘Yes, Sister, thank you.’ I glanced at Jake, but as usual he was regarding the top of my cap. As I left he said something to Sister. I looked round and saw they were both smiling.
Room 9 was not fairly full; it was packed with minor surgical patients. The room-nurse looked pleased to see me. ‘It’s all yours, Standing,’ she said, quietly handing me a stack of history cards, ‘and I wish you joy. It’s been a grim afternoon. Not only new dressers but the new C.O., who came on at two. Have I to go to tea?’
‘Yes. Anything special about anyone?’
‘If there was you and I wouldn’t be in here. No. All straightforward ‒ and all yours.’
I looked rapidly through the cards I held, then round the room. A row of men were sitting patiently on the bench against the wall; several more were in wheel-chairs by the sinks; three in hard chairs by the dressing trolleys. The four shirt-sleeved dressers were working on the men by the sinks; the C.O., who stood with his back to me, was writing in the room log-book at the high desk.
I went up to him. ‘Good afternoon, doctor.’ I hoped I sounded professional.
He glanced over his shoulder. ‘What’s so good about it?’ Then he grinned. ‘Well, well, well,’ said Bill Martin softly, ‘so it’s you. I thought you had taken up residence among ‒ the physicians?’
I nodded at his short white coat. ‘When did you put that on?’
‘Hush,’ he murmured; ‘keep it dark, love. It’s so new it squeaks. Lunch-time to-day. Let’s get cracking. Who’s next?’
I read the name on the top card. ‘Smithers, H. J.’
‘Right you are.’ He strolled forward confidently, looking unrecognizably spruce in his spotless white coat. His black hair was smooth and neat, his grey trousers beautifully creased, his shoes shining with polish. It was the first time I had seen the transformation that takes place when a medical student qualifies. It was hard to conceive that this tidy young doctor was the tousled student I had known previously.
‘Mr Smithers?’ Bill asked.
A man raised a hand. ‘Coming, sir.’
‘And what can I do for you?’
A few seconds later he called me. ‘X-ray here, please. Then the wet plates to the S.C.O. Next?’
‘Green, M. R.’
Mr M. R. Green had already removed the bandage from his foot. He dropped it into my hand. ‘Got a shocking cut here, I have, doctor,’ he announced proudly, ‘regular deep.’
Bill examined it. ‘You certainly have. You’ll need some stitches in this, chum. Do you mind stitches? Good man. Stitches here, please, Nurse. Let’s have his card, and I’ll write ’em up.’
I moved the men forward; distributed bowls, footstools, slings, wheel-chairs. Bill examined, ordered treatment, wrote notes, signed certificates; the dressers dressed wounds endlessly; the men waiting moved their feet and told each other that you couldn’t expect them to go no faster, you couldn’t, and that young dark chap was an old hand at the game, you can see. ‘No hesitation; on the job every time! Experience what counts, it is, every time!’
‘Nurse Standing,’ a porter called me from the doorway, ‘I got a chair. Who was the man for X-ray?’
‘Nurse,’ requested a student, ‘lend me your scissors. Someone’s swiped mine.’
‘Next, please, Nurse Standing,’ said Bill.
‘Nurse.’ A second dresser was beside me offering me a broken hypodermic syringe. ‘What do I do with this? And can I have a new one?’
‘Miss!’ It was a patient this time. ‘Can I have a drop of water? I feel ever so dry.’
As I handed him the glass I saw he was very pale. ‘Do you feel all right? Why not sit outside? I’ll keep your place for you.’
He said he didn’t want to give no trouble. ‘I’ll be O.K., miss. I’m just a bit hot, like. It’s the smell of that ether what always turns me up.’ He drank the water thirstily. ‘Reckon I’ll be fine now. Ta.’
I took the glass away, then returned to him. He did not look any better ‒ he looked greyish. ‘I think you had better come out into the Hall with me.’
He stood up. ‘Maybe you’re right, miss!’ He suddenly pitched forward on top of me. I grabbed at him and did break his fall, but he was too heavy for me to do more than that. The other men called, ‘Here ‒ doctor …’ But as they called someone came quickly into the room and took the man’s weight from me.
‘Get a chair, Nurse,’ said Jake calmly. ‘I’ll hold him on the bench until you do.’
Bill pushed a wheel-chair forward. ‘Want a hand, sir?’
‘You hold the chair, Martin; I’ll shift him in.’ The patient was a heavy man, but Jake lifted him off the bench as easily as I might have lifted a child. ‘I’ll take him out to Sister,’ he told us. ‘You carry on here, Martin.’
Bill moved to the desk. ‘What was that chap’s name? I ought to make a note of this and the time.’
‘Ellis, D. S.’
As he wrote Bill asked, ‘What was the boss doing in here? Did he want anything? Or was he just having another check-up?’
‘No idea. Does he check up?’
‘When we’re new boys? All the time. He’s been hanging round Cas. like a broody hen all afternoon.’ He put down the pen. ‘I’ve lost the thread ‒ who’s next?’
‘The injured right foot ‒ chair by the sink.’
Sister came in. ‘Will you tell Mr Martin that the S.S.O. has seen that man Ellis and I’m sending him home in a car? All right, Nurse?’
‘Yes, thank you, Sister.’
She said she was going to tea. ‘Nurse Blake is in the Hall if you need her.’
‘Tea,’ murmured Bill when she left, ‘what is that quaint old-fashioned custom? Surely no one in Cas. knocks off for tea? Or do they?’ he added hopefully.
‘Not when they are C.O.s running a room. Will you see that Priority slashed wrist next? He’s soaking it in peroxide at the end sink.’
‘Anything you say.’ He washed his hands, then did as I asked. A couple of seconds later he called me. ‘Is the S.S.O. still outside? I’d like him to have a look at this wrist if he is; I think there’s a damaged tendon or two here. If the S.S.O.’s gone this chap must go to the S.C.O.’
‘I’ll go and see.’
Jake was talking to the porters outside the lodge. He turned as I approached. ‘Wanting me, Nurse?’
‘Please, Mr Waring.’ I explained why, and he went back to the room with me.
When he had looked at that slashed wrist he said slowly, ‘I think you had better come straight in, laddie. We’ll need to do a proper job on that wrist.’
‘Oh, no, I can’t come in, doctor,’ protested the young man. ‘I can’t, honest. I’ve got to get back on the job. I’m working now, you see. That’s why the Nurse outside gave me one of those Priority cards. I brought a letter from the firm.’
Jake touched the wrist gently with his neat hands. He had very small hands, as good surgeons always do. ‘Listen, laddie,’ he said, ‘I know you’re a Priority worker, but this is your right hand. That’s a priority if anything is.’
The young artisan agreed reluctantly that it certainly was.
‘And if we just patch you up now, you may get some stiffening. What’s your job?’
‘Fitter, sir.’
Jake smiled at him. ‘You need two good hands for that, don’t you? And you must know the difference in your line between doing a quick bit of patching and a proper job. This doctor and I’ ‒ he nodded towards Bill ‒ ‘think you need a proper job. We’d like you to come in and let us do it. What do you say?’
The man hesitated, then grinned. ‘I’ll come in, sir. No good moaning. I know you can’t hurry when you want to get a machine right ‒ you can’t do a real job in a few minutes; reckon it must be the same with your job. If you say you have to have time you have to have time. As you said, sir, I’ve got to have two good hands in my job.’
‘Sensible man. Right. Ask Nurse Blake to admit to Henry, please. I’ll sign the admission form n
ow.’
When this was done and the fitter had gone with the porter up to Henry, Jake told Bill to go and get some tea. ‘We’ll do that hand in the theatre at six-thirty, Martin. Will you let Sister Theatre know?’
Bill looked round the still half-filled room. ‘Now, sir?’
‘Yes. I’ll finish off in here. Who’s next, Nurse?’
Bill said quickly, ‘I don’t mind carrying on, sir.’
‘I’m sure you don’t,’ replied Jake; ‘but go and have some tea. I’ll see you in the theatre. And now, Nurse Standing?’ I beckoned the next patient forward to a dressing-chair, and Jake went over to him. ‘What’s the trouble?’
Bill washed his hands again. As he went out he murmured to me, ‘What’s got into old Jake? Is he in the habit of standing in as acting-unpaid C.O.?’
I shrugged. ‘Never worked with him before. Don’t know.’
Bill turned and looked at the S.S.O.’s bent back. ‘This needs looking into. Curious. Well, thanks for the moral support, Rose. See you around.’
I nodded in answer. There was nothing for me to do at that exact second, but I did not want to seem to be standing chatting. I did not think there was anything odd in Jake’s behaviour; Sister Cas. often did the same thing for us. I only thought that they had much in common in their attitude to juniors.
Bill vanished, and the room settled down again; but, although the work I did was what I had been doing all afternoon, I was now nervous. I dropped all my history cards, forgot three men’s names, and twice gave Jake the wrong form to sign.
On the second occasion he remarked mildly, ‘Nurse, I’ve already signed this. It might be a sound scheme if you read each form before handing it to me.’
Like a simpleton, I blushed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Only this morning, I remembered gloomily, I had longed to work with him; and now that opportunity had arrived I was longing for him to go. In a very short time he did go. He was, naturally, far quicker than Bill, and he dealt with the remaining patients in a third of the time it would have taken a C.O. When the room was cleared he wished me a formal, ‘Good evening, Nurse; thank you,’ and went across the Hall to Sister’s office. Sister had returned from tea, and I was convinced he was going to tell her I was hopelessly incapable of running a room. Filled with acute despondency, I tidied Room 9, and when Sister told me to stock and test I wandered round Casualty with the absolute conviction that I was stocking and testing for the last time.
The First Year Page 14
