by Val Wood
She had no idea at all how she stood financially, or how her father had provided for her. She knew the house was hers, or would be when she reached twenty-one, but surely, she thought now, whatever monies had been left to her fourteen years ago must have dwindled considerably over the years. Perhaps, she mused, I am not as affluent as I have believed myself to be.
King’s Cross station was much busier than when Lucy had come last time and she and Milly Thomas walked together towards the exit.
‘I’m going to Euston Road,’ Milly said, ‘so I’m going on the Metropolitan line – the underground track,’ she added. ‘I was very frightened the first time I did it; I thought it would be very dark, but it turned out to be quite exciting. Do you think all those ladies are going to the suffragette rally?’ She pointed to a group of women. ‘Like the other girl said?’
‘Yes, I think they might be. Look,’ Lucy said. ‘Over there. Someone is unfurling a banner.’
Milly Thomas narrowed her eyes. ‘What does it say? I can’t read it from here.’
‘Votes For Women,’ Lucy said. ‘I wonder where the rally is going to be held?’
‘Will you go?’ her companion asked. ‘I don’t think I dare, at least not this time. I would hate to be arrested; whatever would my mother think? And I wouldn’t want my uncle to hear of it. I believe he thinks that women should stay at home, get married and have children. He’s very Victorian. Nothing wrong with getting married and having a family, but some women would like a career. I expect that’s what you’d like?’ She looked up at Lucy. ‘If you have a brain you should be allowed to use it.’
‘Yes,’ Lucy said. ‘I want to be a doctor and although now women can be, if they pass the exams, we’re still in a minority.’ She looked across the concourse where groups of women were gathering. ‘But these women also want to have a say in how the country is run. They want to be able to vote just as men can, though even some working class men are still excluded because of their lack of income.’
They said goodbye then. Milly gave Lucy a wave and wished her good luck and left the station and Lucy went to the cab stand to be taken once more to the same hotel as last time.
‘You going to the rally with them other mad women, miss?’ the cab driver asked her.
‘No,’ she said, not wanting any altercation to upset her positive state of mind or risk his refusing to drive her. ‘I’m here visiting relatives.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When Lucy booked in at the hotel, the reception clerk remembered her and asked if her companion would be joining her. Lucy frowned a little as she pondered his question. ‘Mr Thornbury? No, he is not.’ She gazed dubiously at him. ‘Why do you ask?’
He gave her a sceptical glance. ‘We don’t get many young ladies staying alone.’
‘Why not?’ she faltered. ‘Is this not a safe place for young women on their own? If it is not then I will cancel my reservation and go elsewhere.’
‘Oh no,’ he flustered, and a moment later she understood why his manner had changed. The manager was standing behind her.
‘Good afternoon, madam,’ he said courteously. ‘Is there some difficulty with your reservation?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, turning to him. ‘Perhaps there might be. Your desk clerk tells me that you don’t often have young women putting up here. I was enquiring if the hotel is a safe place to stay.’
The manager’s face turned pink and the clerk’s puce as he realized his error.
‘I have stayed here before,’ Lucy went on. ‘But if it is not suitable I will go elsewhere.’
The manager positively grovelled. ‘It is perfectly safe, I assure you, madam, and I don’t know why Grayson should think it otherwise; we have never had any trouble here.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Lucy said, ‘then I’ll stay. My uncle booked this visit as he did the last time, having been assured of your establishment’s excellence, and he will expect me to report back if it doesn’t come up to his exacting expectations.’
The manager assured her that they would fall over backwards to make sure she had a pleasant stay, and carried her small bag upstairs himself. Ten minutes later a complimentary tray of tea and biscuits was brought to her room.
I can see that it is going to be a different life here, she pondered as she sipped her tea, and I’m going to have to be more self-assured and demanding than is my nature.
She ate in the hotel that evening; Grayson the clerk wasn’t behind the desk when she came down for dinner, having been replaced by a woman who turned out to be the manager’s wife, and she wondered if he had been sent home. She was given a table in a quiet corner of the dining room and although the food wasn’t as good as the Italian food she had enjoyed on her last visit she scarcely noticed, being tired after her journey and intent on an early night. Nevertheless, she didn’t sleep well, her jumbled thoughts concentrating on the next day. So much depended on the interview, and if it proved to be successful she would be invited to visit the Royal Free Hospital where her medical training would take place.
Lucy’s interview was arranged for ten thirty, and when she came down for breakfast she asked the manager’s wife, Mrs Saunders, if she would order her a cab; then she enquired after the whereabouts of the desk clerk.
‘Gone,’ Mrs Saunders said. ‘Can’t have him upsetting our visitors.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Lucy was conscience-stricken. ‘Please don’t dismiss him on my account. Perhaps I took his comment the wrong way. Perhaps he didn’t mean it to sound the way it did.’
Mrs Saunders slowly nodded her head. ‘He did,’ she said. ‘He didn’t like me being here. He wouldn’t have minded if I cleaned the rooms, but he didn’t like the fact that I look after the books and assist in the management of the hotel. Don’t you worry, miss. I know how to deal with his sort, and, well, I’ll tell you honestly, I was looking for a reason to get rid of him.’
And that gave Lucy no comfort at all, but it did at least give her something else to think about over breakfast rather than the impending interview.
She was ten minutes early at the Gray’s Inn Road hospital and was ushered into a room which was already occupied by another young woman, perhaps in her late twenties, who was also there for an interview. ‘I’m an hour early,’ she murmured to Lucy, ‘but I was so nervous about being late I thought I’d come and just wait.’
The door opened again to admit another young woman who sat down and didn’t speak but just acknowledged them by a nod of her head and anxious eyes.
At precisely ten thirty the door opened and Dr Schultz came in. ‘Lucy Thornbury? Ah – Miss Thornbury, hello again. Will you come with me, please?
‘Did you have a good journey?’ she asked as they walked down the corridor, past wards and orderly rooms. ‘You weren’t held up by the suffragette rally, were you?’
‘No,’ Lucy said. ‘I wasn’t. I travelled yesterday. I saw quite a lot of women supporters gathering at King’s Cross station and many of them were carrying banners.’
‘Mmm. I do hope there isn’t any trouble,’ Dr Schultz murmured. ‘We can do without that. Dr Louisa Garrett Anderson is speaking, so large crowds are expected.’
‘Oh, is she really?’ Lucy had heard of Dr Anderson, the suffragette and social reformer.
‘Her mother was the very first female doctor, did you know?’ Dr Schultz asked her, ‘and co-founder of the London School of Medicine for Women,’ and Lucy, not knowing if she was being questioned on her knowledge of women in medicine or if Dr Schultz was merely chatting to put her at ease, answered that she had heard of the eminent doctor, and had read up on women in medicine.
‘You’ll probably get to meet her if you should be invited to the Royal Free,’ Dr Schultz said casually and Lucy’s heart thumped.
‘I’d be honoured,’ she murmured, and said no more as they approached the interview room.
Dr Schultz paused before opening the door. She smiled at Lucy. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ she whispered. ‘You�
��re in with a good chance. Dr Cavendish is here again, with the dean, and Dr Chadburn, who is another senior doctor. Good luck!’
Lucy murmured her thanks and entered. ‘Good morning, doctors,’ she greeted them quietly, looking at each woman in turn. ‘Thank you very much indeed for inviting me to return.’
The questions were far more searching than last time and Lucy answered to the best of her ability; one such question was from the dean, a stern-looking woman dressed in a severe grey gown.
‘Miss Thornbury,’ she said, ‘if perchance you should enter the medical profession, would you expect to attend only women and children or would you consider the treatment of sick or injured men?’
Without a pause Lucy answered, ‘I would consider that men were just as deserving of my learning and experience as women. I wouldn’t exclude them in any way but attempt to alleviate their illness, distress or injury.’
She sensed a twitching of lips on the dean’s face and a muted smile on the faces of the other two doctors. Dr Cavendish then asked her how she would feel about marriage before qualifying.
‘I haven’t given marriage a single thought, Dr Cavendish,’ she replied. ‘I haven’t any experience of young men apart from my cousin and childhood friends.’ She smiled. ‘There is no romance or prospect of marriage in my life.’ Then she thought for a second and said, ‘If there had been, then I’m afraid it would – or will – have to wait. Medicine is my dream and I would like to think I can make it a reality.’
Dr Cavendish nodded approvingly. ‘We’ve received a letter from Dr Mary Murdoch, whom we all know very well. You have recently spoken to her, I understand?’
‘Yes,’ Lucy answered. ‘She was kind enough to give me some of her time, and encouragement for which I was very grateful.’
‘Well.’ Dr Cavendish picked up a letter from the desk. ‘Although naturally she cannot recommend you as she doesn’t know of your capabilities, she gives a very favourable character reference on your intellect and understanding of what is entailed in becoming a doctor. Praise indeed from Dr Murdoch.’
She looked at her colleagues and they seemed to have reached some kind of conclusion, for she then reached for a handbell on the desk and rang it three times. ‘If you would kindly go with Dr Schultz, Miss Thornbury, and wait again in the waiting room; I’m sure she will send someone along to offer you a pot of coffee or tea and we will see you again shortly.’
Lucy followed Dr Schultz to another room, one which reminded her of her old common room at school with its battered but comfy sofas and easy chairs and low tables with magazines on them.
‘Would you like coffee or tea, Lucy?’ Dr Schultz asked her. She was much less formal than the other doctors. ‘You might have to wait a while so do make yourself comfortable.’
‘I’ll have coffee, please, if it’s no bother,’ she answered and suddenly felt drained of energy.
‘It’s no bother at all. I’ll send someone along.’ The doctor smiled. ‘Excuse me now, for I must take the next applicant along for her interview.’
‘Of course,’ Lucy said, relieved her session was over and wondering which of the two young ladies it would be. ‘Wish them good luck from me,’ she added.
Dr Schultz looked a little surprised but said that she would.
Within minutes a housekeeper arrived and asked her if she would like something to eat with her coffee. ‘You’d be as well to have something, miss,’ she said, and repeated Dr Schultz’s words: ‘You’ll have to wait, and if you’re chosen to go along to the Royal Free this afternoon you might get hungry.’
‘Oh.’ Lucy felt fluttery again. ‘Yes, thank you. A sandwich, or anything at all really, will be very welcome.’
As she sat waiting, she wondered why it was that Dr Schultz was taking the applicants in and out of the interview room when on the last occasion she was one of the examiners. Was it to put the applicants at their ease on seeing a familiar face? Was she in fact checking on whether they were able to cope with the pressure and anxiety of a further interview? It would make sense, she considered. There must be many burdens put upon doctors: the life-saving decisions they had to make, the relieving of their patients’ pain or discomfort.
Will I be able to deal with such circumstances? Will I be able to offer hope to those who are sick or injured? She sat back and closing her eyes put her hand to her forehead as doubts crept in. I don’t know, she thought. I would hope that I can but I’ve never had to deal with such situations.
But then other voices came rushing in from her past; other images filled her head. Loud noise and commotion of people screaming and shouting; impressions and sensations of being picked up and carried in a stranger’s arms, a stranger who uttered soothing words of comfort and said repeatedly what a brave girl she was; and she knew then that she had, after all, been in comparable circumstances.
Tears sprang to her eyes. Was that what had happened on that fateful train journey? Who was that unknown person who had comforted her? Had that incident been imprinted on her mind and made her who she was? And then she remembered Uncle William; Uncle William being constantly by her hospital bedside, holding her hand and assuring her that he would always look after her, that she would be in his care for ever and need never be afraid again. She blew her nose. And she hadn’t been afraid; she had trusted him absolutely throughout her childhood and he it was who had made her brave.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lucy ate her sandwich and drank the coffee, and as no one else came in to disturb her she slipped off her shoes, put her feet up on the sofa and closed her eyes again. She must have fallen asleep, for the next thing she knew Dr Schultz was leaning over her and gently shaking her arm.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Lucy apologized, swinging her feet down to the floor. ‘I closed my eyes for a moment; such a comfy sofa—’
‘It’s all right,’ the doctor said. ‘Taking a short nap is very beneficial. Would you like to freshen up, and then I’ll take you back to meet the doctors again.’
Lucy thanked her and in a nearby washroom she washed her hands, rinsed her face and combed her hair, which had become disarranged while she slept. Then once more she walked along the corridor with Dr Schultz, who didn’t chat this time but kept her eyes in front. When they reached the interview room Lucy was invited to be seated, and Dr Schultz took a chair at the end of the long table with the other doctors.
‘How are you feeling, Miss Thornbury?’ Dr Cavendish asked.
‘Rather strange now that it’s all over,’ she answered honestly.
Dr Cavendish gave her a questioning glance. ‘Why do you think it might be over?’
Lucy licked her lips. ‘I, erm, I hardly dare dream that I – might have been successful,’ she said softly.
‘And yet you said that medicine was your dream,’ Dr Cavendish reminded her.
‘It is,’ she said fervently, ‘and if I haven’t been successful this time I will keep studying and in another year or two, if it is possible, I will apply again.’
‘I really don’t think that will be necessary, Miss Thornbury,’ Dr Cavendish said calmly. ‘Not necessary at all to put you through this again. My colleagues and I have come to the unanimous decision that you will be a welcome asset to our profession. You are very young, but we do not think your youth will be a liability.’
Lucy put her finger to her right ear and pressed it to clear the ringing. Were they saying – what were they saying? But yes, they were all smiling, even the sombre dean, and they were all standing up waiting for her to say something. She looked at Dr Schultz, who was smiling broadly and beckoning to her.
‘Come along, Lucy,’ she said. ‘The good doctors are waiting to shake you by the hand.’
She shook hands with them all; her heart was hammering and she was so overcome that she could barely speak and a few tears trickled down her cheeks. When they asked her if she would be prepared to stay overnight as there was a visit planned that afternoon to the Royal Free Hospital in Hampstead where she would be g
iven a tour, she stammered that she had booked a second night at her hotel in the fervent hope that she would be invited.
The dean nodded and said that they liked to see a positive attitude in their students.
Dr Schultz took her back to the comfortable waiting room and said she would order her another drink and that it would be about an hour before she and another doctor would be ready to take her to Hampstead.
‘Perhaps I could step outside for a few minutes?’ Lucy asked her. ‘And then when I come back in the door it will be as a medical student.’
Dr Schultz laughed. ‘Of course, and if you wish to send your family a telegram with the good news, there’s a telegraph office just a hundred yards away where you can do that.’
‘Oh! How wonderful. Yes please, thank you, I would love to do that, thank you, thank you very much.’ Impulsively she reached up and kissed the doctor’s cheek. Dr Schultz looked very surprised, but gratified. ‘You have been so very kind,’ Lucy said by way of explanation of her reckless behaviour.
‘I remember how nervous I was when I came for my first interview and so I like to help a little if I can.’ A little smile touched Dr Schultz’s lips. ‘However, I will tell you that I will be one of your tutors and I may not always be kind, although I hope that I am always fair. Now,’ she said briskly. ‘Off you go. Be back in half an hour.’
Lucy stood outside for a second taking deep breaths and absorbing the sounds and sights of the road. Electric trams zinged past and horse-drawn drays and wagons rattled along accompanied by the phut-phut and sharp explosive bangs of motorized cars, of which there were far more in London than she had ever seen in Hull. She looked up and down and then set off as directed towards the telegraph office.
On a slip given to her by a clerk she wrote out a brief message home. Success Stop she wrote. Home tomorrow Stop Celebrate Stop.
