‘I think we will,’ I said, feeling a hideous ‒ and enchanted ‒ fraud.
My landlady gave me a tremendous welcome and the inside story on the new ground-floor lodgers. ‘God knows they’re quiet enough girls and I’ve nothing against all-girlie parties, but I do wish they weren’t always so miserable and intense. You don’t think they’ll start burning their bras in my hall? I can’t stick the smell of scorching.’
Roxanne Alder, the girl with whom I shared the attic flat, was temporarily away on a modelling job. She had left welcoming messages strung all round the place and enough food in the fridge on the landing beside the cooker to keep me for a month.
In Martha’s at seven-fifteen on Monday morning, the Night Superintendent reminded me of Bert Mercer. ‘Have you been away, Nurse Maitland?’
I explained myself.
‘Luke? Oh ‒ yes ‒ I’ve a note about you from Miss Evans.’ The Chief Nursing Officer. ‘Here we are ‒ yes ‒ well, Staff Nurse, you’ll get to Luke eventually, but as we appear to have a minor influenza epidemic on our hands, you’re presently needed elsewhere.’ She looked up over her glasses. ‘Thirty-four staff and student nurses down since Friday. Most inconvenient as this is the holiday season. So you’ve been doing some more accident work in Canada?’
I hoped she did not notice the effect that had on my adrenals. ‘Yes, Sister. Though technically in acute surgery, more often than not I was in reception.’
‘Did their methods vary greatly from those used during your six months in our Accident Unit?’
‘Apart from the terms and administrative details, there was very little difference, Sister. Most of the surgeons and anaesthetists with whom I worked were British and had qualified here.’
‘At the British taxpayer’s expense,’ she observed coldly. ‘Presumably, that causes them no discomfort, but one wonders how comfortable they would be, were they, or their relatives, admitted as emergencies to one of the many smaller hospitals in this country chronically short of medical staff. However ‒ to return to your immediate future. Miss Evans wants you temporarily in the Accident Unit, as first staff nurse. Both first and second are on the sick-list this morning. Sister Accidents will come on at eight and with you early ‒’ she rootled for another note ‘you will have Nurse Jones, the junior staff nurse. I’ll try and catch Sister on her way in, but if I fail, when you report to her as her temporary deputy, will you explain I regret having no replacement at present for her second staff nurse, but one will be sent just as soon as a nurse with the necessary accident training can be spared from the wards.’ She sat back and straightened the lace bow under her chin. ‘Enjoy your break?’
‘Very much, thank you, Sister.’
She was a Londoner. In the twenty years since her general training ended, she had only left Martha’s to train as a midwife in Oxford. ‘Provincial experience is always useful,’ she said, ‘but you’ll be glad to be back.’ Simultaneously, her tone dismissed any question of doubt in my mind, all other hospitals as second-rate, the existence of the Atlantic Ocean, and myself. It amused me, but explained why nine out of ten nurses in the outside world reacted with an instant snarl to the name Martha’s, why so many Canadians had anti-English chips, and why Joss occasionally walked Martha’s wards in a Benedict’s tie.
The prospect of seeing him so soon, plus working with him, was such a glorious bonus that I was almost scared to dwell on it. Fortunately the problem of being temp dep to a Sister who neither knew nor was expecting me proved life needn’t be suspected of being too perfect. I had yet to meet the Sister, anywhere, who didn’t detest sudden senior staff changes, and above all having to hand over to an unknown deputy. Yet even here Joss being a Benedict’s man was another bonus. If Sister Accidents in two days had to cope with an unknown acting S.A.O. and myself, on past showing, God help us all.
Five years ago our old Casualty Department had been rehoused in the ground floors of the new and adjoining General Surgical and Orthopaedic Blocks and renamed Emergencies and Accidents. The twin departments remained under the overall charge of the former Sister Casualty, Miss Mackenzie. She now presided in Emergencies, which was infinitely the larger department. Every non-accident patient admitted to any of the two thousand beds came in through Emergencies. This was staffed by a posse of junior sisters, staff nurses, student nurses, medical orderlies and medic students acting as dressers. The S.M.O. and S.S.O. had their own offices and examination rooms in the department and all the non-A.U. residents worked there on rota. The A.U. men ‒ and Martha’s had yet to appoint a woman doctor to Accidents even as anaesthetist ‒ were the only residents in the hospital with no responsibilities outside the curved and windowless walls of the Accident Unit. And owing to the highly specialized and high-powered first aid that is modern immediate post-accident therapy, though hers was a junior sister’s post, inside the A.U. Sister Accidents ruled as absolutely as any Sister Theatre in her own theatre. Only once, and after a series of mutinous murmurs from the A.U. staff had vibrated on the grapevines, had Miss Mackenzie been known to exert her superior authority. Shortly after, there had been a new Sister Accidents. The grapevines never discovered if the previous one had resigned in fury or been sacked, but the day the new girl took over, every wire in the hospital was red hot with the news that Miss Mackenzie had smiled. Miss Mackenzie was a trim, pale, white-haired Edinburgh lady and in her thirty years as a sister had never been known to suffer fatigue, hunger, emotion, or fools. She could make senior consultants dither like nervous housemen, reduce the S.M.O. and S.S.O. to apologetic medic students. Lesser ranks became jellies or lost weight, depending on their temperaments. In the last month I spent in the A.U., I shed ten pounds. A gastric ’flu bug had caused another massive staff crisis and shot me from junior to first staff nurse overnight, and then for my final terrifying week to acting Sister, with Miss Mackenzie brooding over my every move.
On my last evening, etiquette insisted I call at her office to say goodbye. She had wished me good fortune in a voice of doom. ‘Miss Evans,’ she added, ‘has informed me of your domestic obligations. But should your mother’s welfare be to your satisfaction, and some young man not persuade you otherwise ‒ which I fear is very possible ‒ I hope we will see you back in your training hospital.’ She almost smiled. ‘You may appear but a wee-bit lassie, Nurse, but you know how to work. You managed quite well, just now.’
I had reeled to the Staff Nurses’ Home where my set had revived me with cooking sherry as everything stronger had been taken to our flat for the farewell party Roxanne and I were giving that night. There were now only four of my old set left; three were junior sisters and one a staff-midwife. I liked them all, but none had been amongst my particular friends. It was through one of these, Peter Anthony, that I knew what the girls were doing. Peter I had known years. When I left he had been a senior house-physician and his last letter some time in January said he had ended all with Sue ‒ or it could have been Carol ‒ was uncertain about his future but thinking of trying anaesthetics. Peter Anthony’s uncertainty was one of the few certainties in an uncertain world. As long as I had known him, when he ended all with the pre-Sue-Carol legion, he had spent hours flat on the floor of our living-room bleating about his uncertain future and why no one ever liked him. Roxanne and I only objected on one count. Our room was small and Peter was six three and weighed fifteen stone. When not bleating, he was good fun, being very easy-going, generous with his car, and invaluable as a chucker-out at our parties. He had never made a serious pass at either of us and only once a mild one at me when he brought me back from a rather bad party. He had turned up the following morning, a Sunday, smitten with guilt and a crashing hangover. After two pots of black coffee he said it must’ve been the vodka as he’d never fancied me and did I fancy him? I said sorry, no. He said that figured as he knew no one ever fancied him. He knew he was a sexual failure. He knew he would never make it in general medicine, he wasn’t sure whether he should try pathology and did I know the name of the dolly
with red hair and legs last night and better still her ’phone number. I had forgotten her name now, but not her keeping him off our carpet for a good two months. As I had also forgotten to answer his last letter, I wondered if anyone had told him I was coming back, or if he had left Martha’s. Someone in the A.U. would know. There was always someone in every department who knew everything about everyone.
The junior staff nurse was alone in the nurses’ changing-room. She had her back to me but I recognized her instantly though I had never before seen her in a staff nurse’s uniform. ‘You’re this Jones! Hi!’
Her real name was Helen Jones, but her set had nicknamed her Dolly long before they were out of the P.T.S. She had the smooth dark fringe, wide long-lashed blue eyes, chubby cheeks and dimpled chin of a Victorian china doll. When we last worked together on the same day and night shift in Albert two years ago, she had been the best junior I ever came across. I was delighted to see her and certain she was the girl whose name Joss hadn’t remembered. Behind that china doll’s face, Dolly Jones had a very good brain and five good ‘A’ Levels to prove it. Martha’s only insisted on two for student nurses.
She literally fell on my neck. ‘Staff, forgive the corn, but you’re corn in Egypt! When I got back from my days off yesterday, heard Chalmers had gone home with a temp Saturday night and White was ailing sick in the Home, I nearly threw a full-blown crise de neufs only I couldn’t as we were too something busy! But, really ‒ a girl can take so much! Morning, noon, and night ‒ “At St Benedict’s we did it this way ‒” ’ she broke off. ‘Hey! You have heard the ugly news?’ I nodded, smiling. ‘But the whole soul-searing story? Not only Sister but also our acting S.A.O. from that place over the river? As Peter Anthony said last night, yesterday was a black day for Martha’s. Our cherished A.U., the newest and most expensively equipped department in the hospital, taken over by a brace of Benedict’s throw-outs. Peter said he was very sorry he’d switched to anaesthetics, though actually he’s making a rather good R.A. (Resident Anaesthetist) here. Come to that,’ she added without letting me say anything, ‘and though it goes against the grain to admit it, our new boy knows his accident therapy. Yesterday was nightmarish. All London took to the roads and half ended up in mangled messes in here. The new boy coped as well as Stan L.’ She flapped her long eyelashes. ‘Wonder why Benedict’s chucked him out?’
I had intended asking how long Peter had been A.U. R.A., but was too incensed on Joss’s behalf to remember. ‘Couldn’t he have chosen? For the chance to work with Hoadley East? Even Benedict’s must know Hoadley’s one of the best orthopod surgeons in the world.’
‘I guess so ‒’ she did a double-take. ‘How do you know this? Don’t say you know Joss Desmond too! Is there a woman either side of the river who’s not on first names with the man? Top of the pin-up pops is our Mr D. ‒ and they do say as hot off the job as he is on ‒ only for God’s sake don’t let Butler hear you say that as he’s her private property! How do you know him?’
I was about to explain my family had lived next door to his for the first nineteen years of my life when I properly registered all she had said. I didn’t believe it all, but it was a useful reminder of the efficiency of our grapevine. I said I had been at school with Ruth Desmond, his only sister, and asked about Peter.
‘He came to us just after me ‒ ten weeks back. He took a course earlier this year, then had a short spell in the General Theatre ‒ didn’t you know? He knew last night you were coming to us today. He got it from one of the Office Sisters. That’s how I knew. He said he was going to ring you ‒ didn’t he?’ I shook my head. ‘He was fearfully pleased. Biggest erotic thrill he’s had since you left from the way he was carrying on. I haven’t known him so chatty since he used to haunt you in Albert ‒ I say, did you say Ruth Desmond?’
‘Yes.’ Suddenly I felt much happier. Her thinking me capable of giving Peter an erotic thrill showed how much salt the rest needed. ‘Why?’
‘You weren’t by any chance at the wedding on Saturday? You were? Oh my Gawd, Staff ‒ don’t mention it! Please! He ditched a date with Butler for it, or went off without her, or something, and the atmosphere between them first thing yesterday morning was sheer ruddy murder for the poor ruddy staff. Luckily, he made with the charm and softened her up,’ she smiled, ‘which didn’t surprise me one little bit. Dead sexy, that man. He could soften me up any day of the week and twice on Sundays, if I weren’t allergic to queues. I must say, it’s going to be quite amusing having something sexy around the joint for once. Maybe I should cross the river?’
The student nurses were arriving from their breakfast. ‘Maybe,’ I suggested, ‘we should get started? And as you know Sister’s form, will you start them off?’
‘Sure. Oh ‒ by the way ‒ how were the States?’
‘United, I believe. I’ve been in Canada.’
She gave me one of her innocent dolly stares. ‘Golly gosh, Staff, I wouldn’t know the difference. I dropped geography before “O”s.’ She held open the door for me. ‘Sister likes us to muster in the Receiving Room. She calls it ‘‘the R.R.” and the A.U. “the Unit”.’
‘Fair enough, I suppose.’
Dolly said meekly, ‘She calls Miss Mackenzie “Sister Emergencies”.’
That did shake me. ‘Oh, no!’ Miss Mackenzie answered with composure to ‘Sister’, ‘Sister Casualty’, or ‘Miss Mackenzie’. ‘Sister Emergencies’ evoked a look that could fragment a diamond. ‘Why hasn’t someone tactfully warned Butler?’
‘So who wants a shelf in a morgue fridge?’
‘That bitchy?’ I suddenly remembered how very little Joss had said about Butler. ‘She know her stuff?’
Dolly nodded gloomily. ‘She’s got a gold medal. That’s why Miss Evans gave her the job.’
I said slowly, ‘Hospitals don’t throw out their gold medals. Why on earth did she cross the river?’
‘Seeing you know Joss Desmond ‒ if he were yours would you let him off the hook without a fight? Not that he showed any inclination to put up one, yesterday. Maybe she did the right thing following him over. Maybe he’ll achieve the impossible and turn this back into a happy department.’
‘It isn’t?’
She shook her head. ‘Chalmers and Stan L. get along with Butler pretty well as they’ve just got to, since they work in each other’s pockets. White can’t stick her guts, and vice versa. She makes George Charlesworth nervous ‒ he’s J.A.O. and rather sweet. Peter Anthony says he and she simply don’t communicate.’
‘How about you?’
She hesitated. ‘I like the way she works and I like the work here. It’s the atmosphere and the constant “at St. Benedict’s” that makes me want to throw up. This last month the atmosphere’s been so thick I think Miss Mackenzie’s caught on to it. One of my set’s staffing in Emergencies. She says old Mother Mack wasn’t at all pleased by all the staff changes in here during Butler’s first two months.’
‘Who went?’
‘The last R.A. didn’t take up the option on his second six months ‒ that’s how Peter got here. One staff nurse and two student nurses asked Matron for transfers. One had to be put under sedation. Didn’t do the A.U. any good and everyone knows it’s the Sister who makes or louses up every department.’
I was trying to be detached. It wasn’t easy, but I was trying. ‘Accident work isn’t everybody’s baby but you have to get here to find that out.’
‘Oh well,’ said Dolly under her breath as we joined the waiting nurses, ‘if you’re determined to spread Christian charity, you’ve come to a joint that can use it.’
I suspended thought till I waited in Sister’s empty office at five to eight. It was one of a row of small offices lying off one side of the narrow corridor leading from the staff exit from the Receiving Room and ending in our changing-room. I opened the large log-book on the desk and looked through the long list of yesterday’s admissions. In every case the ‘seen and examined on admission’ column was signed ‘J. R. Desmon
d, F.R.C.S., Acting S.A.O.’
I thought about Dolly. She enjoyed a good gossip and improving on a good story, but she was neither a liar nor a fool. I thought about Joss on Saturday. Then, simply, I didn’t know what to think. I closed the book with a snap as quick steps came down the corridor. The next thing I knew was Peter Anthony lifting me up by the waist to kiss me as I was a foot shorter than himself.
‘Peter, off! Down, boy!’ I freed myself and dodged round the desk. ‘Want to get us both slung out first thing on a Monday morning?’
He backed smiling to block the doorway as he smoothed his slightly curly and very yellow hair. It was shorter than when I had last seen him and cleared his collar by about half an inch but his sideboards were longer and thicker. I had forgotten he was so good-looking as he was one of those people I invariably forgot in their absence and was delighted to see in person. ‘Hell, Cath,’ he protested, ‘we’re alone so what better start to a Monday morning? You don’t know how I’ve missed you! Why didn’t you answer your ’phone last night? I’d have come straight round if I hadn’t been on call.’
‘Didn’t hear the ’phone. Probably with my landlady ‒’
‘I’ll forgive you.’ He lunged at me again.
‘Peter, watch it! Sister’s due!’
‘My God, so she is! I don’t know if you’ve been warned, but ‒’ he glanced cautiously over his shoulder and turned puce. ‘Oh, sorry ‒ want to come in?’ He stepped aside and my heart seemed to lurch with joy. Joss came in slowly, wearing a clean long white coat, dark suit, Benedict’s tie and a polite expression. ‘Good morning,’ he said, ‘I’m waiting for Sister.’
Peter waved vaguely. ‘You won’t know each other. Mr Desmond from St Benedict’s, our temp S.A.O., Staff Nurse Maitland back home from the colonies.’
Ring O' Roses Page 3
