‘Who’s that?’ she asked.
‘He’s one of Mr Cooper’s patients.’ Nurse Riley’s voice was clipped with impatience. ‘You don’t need to go in there. Now this way is the sluice, where you’ll be spending most of your time . . .’ She swung open the door to a small room. The stench caught the back of Jennifer’s throat, making her eyes water. She reeled back, holding her apron to her face.
‘That awful smell . . .’
‘Bedpans,’ Nurse Riley said. ‘You’ll get used to them. Have you ever cleaned one before?’
Jennifer shook her head. Her gaze was fixed on the towering pile of porcelain pans ranged on the floor beside the large sink. They were covered, but the smell still made her stomach churn and her throat tighten.
‘Bushell will show you what you have to do.’ Nurse Riley nodded towards the skinny blonde girl standing at the sink. ‘Be quick about it, mind. No chattering, please. I will be keeping my eye on you,’ she warned.
‘She’s a laugh a minute, isn’t she?’ Jennifer said, when the door had closed behind Nurse Riley.
‘She’s actually very nice, usually.’ Daisy Bushell shrugged. ‘Although I must admit, she has been rather snappish this morning . . . But still, she’s much kinder than Sister. She’s the one you really have to watch out for. Now, about these bedpans . . .’ She reached for the topmost one. ‘Here’s what you need to do. You have to empty the contents down here –’ She pointed to the large hole in the centre of the sink ‘– unless you’ve been told to keep them for inspection. Oh, and make sure you pick out any bits of tow before you empty it away.’
‘Tow?’ Jennifer said faintly.
‘It’s a kind of wool stuff that the nurses use to wipe the patients when they’ve finished using the pan,’ Daisy said. ‘They shouldn’t throw it in the bedpan, it really needs to go in a separate receiver dish, but sometimes they forget so you have to check and fish it out with forceps before you empty it.’
‘Fish it out . . . with forceps . . .’ Jennifer echoed queasily.
‘Once you’ve emptied the bedpan, you tip it upside down over this spray,’ Daisy went on briskly. ‘Remember to put it over before you switch on the spray, otherwise you’ll make an awful mess. Clean the pan out thoroughly, then use this mop to scrub each one with plenty of disinfectant. Keep the mop in the disinfectant when you’re not using it. Then rinse out the pan again, dry the outside and then put it up here.’ She pointed to a rack on the wall. ‘Do you think you can manage that?’
‘I suppose I’ll have to, won’t I?’ Jennifer replied gloomily. She looked around. ‘Where are the gloves?’ she asked.
‘What gloves?’
Jennifer stared at her in horror. ‘You don’t mean I’m supposed to clean these – things – out with my bare hands?’
‘That’s the idea,’ Daisy shrugged. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it soon enough. And mind you scrub inside the handles, too. Sister always checks the handles.’
‘And what about those?’ Jennifer pointed to a row of bottles, covered by calico cloths.
‘You clean them in the same way, by emptying them out and then rinsing them. But be sure to check first with Sister or Nurse Riley that they don’t need to take a speci-men.’ She looked anxiously at the clock on the wall. ‘We’d better get a move on,’ she said. ‘The consultant is due to do his rounds at half past ten and we need to have all these done, the ward cleaned, the patients washed and the beds all made by then.’
Jennifer gazed at her hands despairingly. The thought of picking up one of those revolting bedpans was more than she could stand.
Gingerly she picked up the first pan and held it at arm’s length. Holding her breath, she whipped the lid off another pan, gave it a quick half glance and tipped it over the sinkhole, her face turned away. The slopping of the contents down the hole made her retch.
Daisy watched her with amusement. ‘I don’t actually mind the bedpans,’ she lisped. ‘It’s the patients I can’t cope with. All those horrible, gaping wounds, and the missing limbs – ugh!’ She shuddered.
‘They didn’t seem too bad to me.’ Jennifer shrugged.
‘You haven’t seen them up close,’ Daisy warned her. She picked up one of the bedpans from the draining board, dried around the outside, then hung it up on the rack.
‘What about those patients in the private rooms?’
Daisy stared at her in horror. ‘Oh, you must never, ever go in there,’ she warned, her voice hushed. ‘Sister would have a fit, apart from anything else. Only the trained nurses are ever allowed in those rooms, even to clean.’
‘Is that right?’ Jennifer was intrigued.
‘I mean it, Caldwell. You mustn’t ever go in there.’
‘All right, keep your hair on. I wasn’t going to break the rules. I just wondered who was in there, that’s all.’
‘Well, so far as I know they were both brought in yesterday. One is a soldier. He’s suffering from gas gangrene and he’s had his arm amputated. And the other is an airman whose plane crash-landed.’ Daisy pulled a face. ‘It’s a very sad story, from what I’ve been told. Apparently he had the chance to escape, but he went back to try and pull his wireless operator free. That’s when he got burned by the exploding fuel tank.’
‘How awful.’ Jennifer thought about the figure in the shadowy room, swathed in straps and bandages. ‘Will he live, do you think?’
Daisy sent her a strange look. ‘I don’t know, do I? Goodness, don’t you ask a lot of questions?’
‘I can’t help being curious, can I?’
Sister Holmes appeared as Jennifer was finishing off the last bedpan.
‘Are you still in here? What on earth has taken you so long, girl?’ she demanded. ‘I hope you two haven’t been gossiping instead of getting on with your work?’ She looked at Daisy, who blushed guiltily.
‘Just finished, Sister,’ Jennifer said
‘Let me see.’ Sister Holmes picked a pan off the rack and turned it around in her hands, peering down the hollow handle. ‘Still filthy,’ she declared, handing it back to Jennifer. ‘You’ll have to do them all again.’
‘They seem clean enough to me, Sister—’ Jennifer started to protest, but Sister Holmes snapped her a look that shocked her into silence.
‘I don’t care how they seem to you,’ she said. ‘I am telling you they are not cleaned to my satisfaction. I want you to clean them again. And make sure you do it properly this time. Good heavens, at this rate by the time you finish them the patients will be wanting to use them again!’
She turned and left, slamming the door behind her.
The rest of the morning didn’t go much better for Jennifer. Once she’d finally finished the bedpans, Sister made her rinse the soiled bedlinen before it went off to the laundry, and scrub and dry the mackintosh sheets. Then it had been time for more bedpans and bottles, and cleaning the bathrooms from top to bottom. By the end of the morning three of her nails were broken and her skin itched from being constantly doused in disinfectant.
And then Sister made her help with serving the patients their meals before she was finally dismissed to the dining room for her own.
Cissy was already there, sitting at a long table with the other VADs.
‘I didn’t think you were coming,’ she said.
‘Neither did I. That wretched woman kept me working right up till the last minute.’ Jennifer collapsed into a chair and stretched out her aching legs. ‘That’s better. I haven’t sat down all morning.’
‘I was lucky,’ Cissy said. ‘Sister Casualty is an angel, she sent us off on time.’
‘You are lucky.’ Jennifer grimaced. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve been scrubbing bedpans with your bare hands all morning either?’
Cissy pulled a face. ‘You haven’t?’
Jennifer held out her hands. ‘Look. And I’ve got the broken nails to prove it.’
‘All we have to do is tidy up the consulting rooms between patients, and make sure no one vomits while they
’re waiting to be seen,’ Cissy said.
‘I wish I was on Casualty with you, in that case.’
‘Me too.’ Cissy leaned forward. ‘You’ll never guess who I’ve been paired up with?’
Jennifer followed her friend’s gaze to the end of the table, where Eve Ainsley sat alone, picking at her food.
‘No! Poor you. I don’t think I envy you at all, in that case. How’s she been getting on?’
‘Oh, she’s already in Sister’s good books. She’s a real teacher’s pet, just like she was in the classes.’
Jennifer looked down the end of the table. ‘What’s that mark on her face?’ she asked.
Cissy shrugged. ‘Reckons she walked into a wall in the blackout,’ she said, helping herself to another slice of bread.
Jennifer frowned to see the fading bruise on the girl’s cheek and felt a pang of guilt. She wondered if she’d had her accident after Jennifer had abandoned her to go off with Johnny. Oh,well, it was Eve’s own fault, Jennifer told herself. She should have accepted a lift when she had the chance.
Thinking about that night reminded her of Johnny Fayers. Not that he was ever far from her thoughts. She was annoyed with herself for thinking of him so much when he clearly didn’t care about her.
It had been a week now, and she still hadn’t seen him. Jennifer kept trying to tell herself that he didn’t know where to find her, but she had a feeling that someone like Johnny would be able to find out if he’d been interested. Unfortunately, he hadn’t bothered.
And that was exactly why he fascinated her so much. Unlike most of the men she met, he actually presented a challenge to her. Jennifer’s mum had always said she only wanted what she couldn’t have, and she was right.
Cissy sighed. ‘And to think, last night I was dancing with a handsome Frenchman!’ she said.
‘If he could see you now!’ Jennifer laughed.
‘What about your Norwegian – what was his name?’
‘Nils.’ Jennifer smiled at the memory. His name was about the only thing he’d said that she understood.
Cissy giggled. ‘That’s right. I knew it was something odd. Are you seeing him again?’
Jennifer shook her head. ‘He wasn’t my type.’
‘Really? You seemed quite keen when you let him kiss you?’
‘It was only a kiss!’ Jennifer shrugged. ‘Anyway, can you imagine my dad’s face if Nils turned up on our doorstep? He’d have a fit!’
But not as big a fit as he would have if Johnny Fayers rolled up in his car, she thought. Not that there was much chance of that happening.
Back on the ward after lunch, there were more bedpans and yet more cleaning.
As Jennifer passed the private rooms on her way to the sluice, she couldn’t resist peeking through the first open door at the injured airman. She could barely make out his shape in the dimly lit room. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look, she thought. As long as she didn’t touch anything . . .
The room was dark and very warm. The man’s laboured breathing was the only sound.
Jennifer crept closer to look at him. His face and the upper half of his body were swaddled in bandages. A complex arrangement of straps suspended him above the mattress. The room reeked of disinfectant, masking another, more acrid smell. Jennifer sniffed for a moment, then realised with a shock that it was the odour of burned flesh.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
Jennifer swung round. Sister Holmes stood in the doorway, her shape outlined against the bright light from the corridor.
‘I— I—’
‘Who told you to come in here?’
‘No one, Sister.’
‘Then what are you doing?’
Jennifer glanced at the figure on the bed. ‘I – I just wanted to look at him,’ she said.
‘You mean you wanted to gawp?’ Sister Holmes snapped. ‘I’ve a good mind to take off those dressings and let you have a look at him. That would soon stop you being nosy, I can tell you!’ She glared at Jennifer. ‘May I remind you, Caldwell, that this is a hospital, not a sideshow? These men have been badly wounded while serving their country. They deserve your respect, not your morbid curiosity.’
‘I didn’t mean anything by it,’ Jennifer murmured lamely. She stared at the floor, unable to meet Sister Holmes’s basilisk stare. Daisy Bushell was right, Sister was far more terrifying than Nurse Riley.
‘Since it is your first day I will overlook it,’ Sister Holmes said finally. ‘But be assured, if I find you breaking the rules again, I will report you straight to Matron. I will not have—’
She was interrupted by a cry from the next room. She immediately hurried away and Jennifer followed her.
Next door Nurse Riley was standing over the bed, so pale and still she looked as if she had been carved from wax.
‘Nurse Riley?’ Sister Holmes spoke sharply to her, but she didn’t move. ‘Nurse Riley, whatever is the matter? For goodness’ sake, speak to me, girl!’
Nurse Riley looked up slowly, and Jennifer saw her cheeks were wet with tears. ‘Private Gerrard’s dead,’ she whispered.
Jennifer looked towards the young man in the bed. She had never seen anyone dead before. She would have liked a closer look, but a second later the door slammed in her face.
That was when Nurse Riley started screaming.
Chapter Fourteen
KATHLEEN SAT BESIDE Dora Riley’s bed in the sick bay, gazing down at her. Dr McKay had given her a sedative to calm her, but a pair of defiant green eyes still stared back at Kathleen, fighting sleep.
‘I should be on the ward, Matron,’ she insisted. ‘Sister Holmes needs me.’
‘You’re not going anywhere until you’ve rested.’
‘But I’m not tired. I just had a bit of a – funny turn, that’s all. I’m all right now, honestly.’
‘That’s not what Dr McKay thinks. He says you’re suffering from nervous exhaustion.’
Dora Riley pressed her lips together, and Kathleen could see her fighting back a sharp retort. She certainly seemed more like her normal tight-lipped self, in contrast to the hysterical, tearful girl who had been carried up to the sick bay earlier.
But Kathleen wasn’t sure that was a good thing. According to Dr McKay, it was the pressure of holding in her emotions that had caused her to collapse.
‘Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you, my dear?’ Kathleen urged.
Dora turned her face away to stare at the wall. ‘It’s nothing,’ she mumbled. ‘There’s nothing wrong, Matron, I promise you.’
‘But we can’t help you if you don’t tell us.’
‘I don’t need help!’ A dull flush rose in the girl’s freckled cheeks. She appeared to be more embarrassed about her outburst than anything else.
Kathleen regarded her steadily. She had never met anyone as stubborn as Dora Riley. Her dogged determination might have helped her to overcome a great deal in her life, but it also meant she could be her own worst enemy at times.
‘There’s no shame in accepting help,’ she said quietly. ‘Everyone needs a helping hand from time to time.’
‘I can manage, Matron.’
Kathleen looked at the girl’s bitten-down nails. They told a very different story.
She tried again. ‘You seemed very badly affected by Private Gerrard’s death,’ she commented.
Dora winced at the sound of his name. ‘It came as a shock, that’s all, Matron,’ she muttered.
‘Surely not. With your experience, you must have known he was unlikely to recover from his injuries?’
Dora kept her gaze fixed on the wall. ‘I thought he was going to fight it,’ she said quietly. ‘For his wife and kids.’
So that’s it, Kathleen thought. At last she was getting closer to the truth. ‘And I suppose it made you think about your own husband?’
Dora flashed her a look of dismay and Kathleen realised she was right.
‘Tell me,’ she prompted gently, ‘has he been injured?’<
br />
Dora turned her face to the wall. ‘He’s in a military hospital. In Oxford.’ The words seemed to be dragged out of her.
‘I see.’
‘He was shot in the chest,’ Dora went on in a flat voice. ‘I’ve telephoned the hospital to find out how he is, but all they’ll tell me is he’s comfortable . . .’ Her voice trailed off, lost in misery.
Kathleen was silent for a moment, taking it in. No wonder she’d reacted so badly to that soldier’s death. The poor girl must see her husband’s face in every wounded soldier she tended.
Comfortable. It was a term they often used when patients’ families telephoned the ward. It was supposed to be reassuring, but Kathleen only realised now what an empty phrase it was. Especially to a nurse, who would know what it really meant.
‘We must arrange for you to have some time off, so you can go and visit him,’ she said. ‘Oxford isn’t that far.’
‘I can’t.’ Dora shook her head. ‘Families aren’t allowed to visit patients in military hospitals.’
Kathleen thought about it. ‘Surely under the circumstances, they would allow a short visit?’
‘What circumstances, Matron? I’m no worse off than a lot of other wives and girlfriends, am I?’ Dora’s voice was flat. ‘I’m luckier than a lot of them, too. Some men never even made it off the beach. At least my Nick has a chance—’
‘And if he’s as brave and determined as his wife, then I’m sure he’ll grab it with both hands,’ Kathleen said.
‘I hope you’re right, Matron.’
Kathleen stood up. ‘At any rate, you should take some time off, to recover your strength.’
‘If it’s all the same to you, Matron, I’d rather go back to work. I’d feel better if I was keeping busy.’
‘Very well. But I will have you transferred to another ward.’
Dora looked appalled. ‘But Sister Holmes will be short-staffed!’
I’m sure Sister Holmes would prefer that to having nurses collapse in a tearful heap on her, Kathleen thought. The ward sister had looked most shaken when Kathleen had gone up to the ward to see her.
Nightingales at War Page 10
