by Kate Eastham
Something clicked inside Maud’s head then, and she took a firmer grip of Mrs Cassidy. ‘You need to stand back for a moment,’ she said calmly. ‘Let your daughter have some space.’
But Mrs Cassidy clung to her child more tightly.
Sue was crying now, big tears rolling down her face, trickling through the black sutures.
Maud and Alice exchanged a glance.
‘The wound has healed very well,’ said Maud steadily. ‘Sue could have been killed that day. You could have lost her completely, but you will have a healthy daughter to leave the hospital.’
‘What use will that be?’ spat her mam. ‘When she’s ruined for life!’
Maud was shocked. ‘Now just one minute,’ she retaliated, ‘a woman doesn’t have to be beautiful to marry. And she doesn’t even need to be married, or have a man, to be something in this world.’
‘Doesn’t she?’ screamed Mrs Cassidy. Then, as if she’d shocked herself, her voice was quieter when she spoke again. ‘Look at me, Nurse, just look at me. Working for next to nothing on that flower stall. And if I lose that job, then I’ll be back to nothing and Sue will be out on the street begging for food again. When I had a husband at home, he was bringing in a wage as well. We didn’t have much, but we had enough for food on the table and a bit of life.’
Maud did understand what she was saying, of course she did, but a bright girl like Sue … Maud could have put the case for her finding work in nursing. But she knew that there was no point, not yet. Mrs Cassidy was heartbroken, devastated. There was nothing that anyone could have said, right then, that would have made a jot of difference.
‘I can’t stand ’ere and look at her like that,’ said the woman, wiping her face on her sleeve. ‘I’ll be seeing you, Sue,’ she called as she walked away.
‘I didn’t know it was so bad,’ sobbed Sue. ‘I must look like a monster.’
‘No,’ soothed Alice, ‘you are a beautiful girl with an unusual mark on the side of your face that will start to look much better when the stitches are out. And when you’re ready, we’ll get the mirror and we’ll let you see for yourself.’
Sue nodded.
‘You just let us know, Sue,’ said Maud, ‘as soon as you’re ready.’
‘I’ll wait till you’re taking out the stitches,’ said Sue, lifting her chin in a mildly defiant gesture.
By the time the day for removal of the stitches came, it felt like Maud and Alice were more nervous than Sue. Her mam hadn’t returned to the ward, as yet, and beyond monitoring the wound for suppuration and checking her temperature twice daily, they’d been working closely with the girl, trying to build up a bit of confidence. They’d encouraged her to show her face, not even think of hiding away, so she’d been up and down the ward as usual, chatting to the other patients. And after the scene with her mam, many of the women on the ward were giving Sue pennies or finding her an old brooch or an embroidered handkerchief. Her drawstring bag was now bulging with treasure and no longer able to slip under her pillow.
Maud had devised a plan. She’d bought a brand-new tortoiseshell mirror and matching hairbrush, and she’d suggested that they take Sue up to theatre where they could have some privacy to remove the sutures. Mr Stafford had tried to insist that a medical man was required for the procedure, but Mr Jones had put him straight. Maud smiled every time she remembered his words, and she’d repeated them to Alice on request more than once. ‘My dear Mr Stafford, our surgical nurses are more than competent to snip one side of a stitch and pull it through the skin. The advances we are currently making in theatre rely upon their skill. Where would we be without their assistance in theatre and the crucial post-surgical nursing that they perform? They are with the patients twenty-four hours a day; we come and go on the wards. If I was a patient, I’d much prefer a nurse to attend me, not some bumbling medical student!’
Maud carried a stool as she walked up to theatre, with Sue and Alice following behind. Many of the other patients were calling out to them, wishing Sue luck or blowing a kiss. The strength of feeling on the ward for their youngest patient was almost overwhelming. As Maud turned to open the theatre door with her hip, she saw Alice desperately trying to blink back tears.
‘Right, Sue, you come and sit yourself down here,’ called Maud, indicating the stool, which she had placed right by the open window where the best light could be found. ‘Now, Nurse Sampson …’
Sue giggled and whispered, ‘You can call her Alice in here, Maud. Sister Pritchard can’t hear us.’
‘Now, Alice,’ smiled Maud, pulling a length of bright green ribbon from her pocket, ‘if you could tie Sue’s hair back with this whilst I scrub my hands.’
‘It matches your eyes, Sue,’ said Alice, making a show of pulling back her tousled red hair and tying the ribbon with a luxurious bow.
After Maud was satisfied with the cleanliness of her bright red scrubbed hands, she removed a pair of small pointed scissors and some forceps from a bowl of carbolic acid, placing them on one lint swab and drying them with another.
‘Now, Sue, if you could twist round a little, so I’ve got the best light. Good girl, that’s it.’ Maud surveyed the line of sutures set close together.
Mr Jones had really sweated over them, and the mastery of his skill showed. The scarlet line of the wound was healing well, with only one small area that appeared raised due to an ever so slight misalignment of the edges of the wound.
‘These look very good indeed,’ Maud said. ‘Now, I’m going to start at the top and work down. You will feel them tugging a little as they come out, and one or two might sting, but there shouldn’t be any really bad pain. Are you ready?’
Sue nodded and then took Alice’s hand.
Maud worked her way meticulously down the line of sutures, ensuring that each stitch was drawn cleanly through the wound, then placing it in a small white enamel bowl positioned carefully at the side.
As each one came out of the skin, it left a red dot either side of the scar – a pattern that stretched from Sue’s eye, over her fine cheekbone and then curled in to skim by the corner of her mouth. The more stitches that were removed, the more Maud could see the consistency of the lasting damage to Sue’s face, and her stomach began to tighten. They all remained silent as the process continued. All anyone could hear was the steady rhythm of Maud’s breathing as she concentrated on the job in hand.
At last, the final stitch was pulled through. Maud placed it in the enamel bowl with the rest.
‘All done,’ she murmured, straightening up, then taking a step back. ‘It has healed very well,’ she said. ‘Do you want to see?’
Sue nodded, her lips pressed into a firm line.
As Maud brought the hand mirror, Alice held tight to Sue’s hand.
‘Are you ready?’ asked Maud, holding the mirror in front of Sue’s face but with the tortoiseshell back towards her.
‘Yes,’ said the girl, with her chin tilted and her big green eyes wide.
Maud turned the mirror.
Sue just stared at her reflection for what seemed like an age. And then her chin began to tremble and a single tear started to roll down her face. She couldn’t speak.
‘Do you want me to take the mirror away?’ asked Maud, her throat tight.
‘No,’ gasped Sue. ‘No.’
Maud held on to the mirror and Alice held on to Sue’s hand for as long as it took.
Eventually, Sue reached up a hand to her cheek, to touch the scar. She prodded it with a finger, frowning. Then she moved her hand over the whole of it, wiping it over and over, as if trying to scrub it away. Tears were now streaming down her face.
She turned her face to the side, glancing at her good side and then at the side with the scar. Then she did it again and again, sighing at last and motioning for Maud to lower the mirror. With her shoulders slumped and her head bowed, she muttered, ‘I hate it. It’s so ugly.’
And then she got up from the stool, pulled the green silk ribbon out of her hair, threw it to
the floor and walked silently out through the door.
Alice made a move towards the door but then stopped, realizing Sister Pritchard had seen Sue, and would look after her.
Maud sighed. ‘That’s one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do,’ she said. ‘Maybe there would have been a better way?’
‘I don’t think so, Maud. We waited until she was ready to see the scar, we did our best to prepare and support her …’
‘But now all we can do is wait and see what she makes of it,’ added Maud, moving to the bin with the enamel bowl to empty out the discarded black sutures. Then she took the instruments to the sink and scoured them vigorously.
‘When she’s ready, Alice,’ she said, as she scrubbed, ‘we’ll see if she’ll let us wash her hair. Fluff it out a bit, arrange it around her face. I’m not much good with hair but I’m sure we can do something. Oh, and I brought that gold ring. Like we said, I’m going to call by Lewis’s this afternoon to see if anyone has reported it lost. If not, then I’ll take it up to the pawn shop. Are we still agreed?’
‘Yes,’ said Alice, dabbing at her eyes, ‘good thinking. Let’s get her some money for a whole new set of clothes. Stella and Marie have already been knitting – they’ve got a hat, a scarf and a shawl made from knitted squares of bright wool.’
‘She’ll like that,’ said Maud, putting her arm around Alice’s shoulders. ‘She’s going to come through this, Alice, and be even stronger. Just you wait and see.’
Despite her encouraging words for Alice, Maud’s heart felt like a heavy weight in her chest as she made her way to Lewis’s that afternoon in the pouring rain. She’d taken a sturdy umbrella from the stand just inside the door of the Nurses’ Home and it did keep the worst of the downpour off her. However, the footpath was crammed with other people and similar umbrellas, so as she walked she had to keep holding it up above her head or squeezing it sideways just so she could get through.
Nevertheless, she walked on. Even though the water was soaking up from the hem of her dress, she walked on through the rain.
Arriving, dripping wet, at the glass-fronted shop on Ranelagh Street, she stood for a moment looking up at the grand sign that read Lewis’s & Co Clothiers & Bootmakers. She’d regularly passed the shop and admired the window displays but never once been in through the door. And she had no idea why she was hesitating in the street, with the rain drumming on her umbrella. Come on, Maud, she said to herself, taking a deep breath and pushing through the door. She heard the tinkle of a bell as she emerged in the shop and folded her umbrella.
‘Please, miss,’ tutted a sharp voice behind her, ‘don’t stand there dripping on the tiles, put your umbrella in the stand at once.’
Maud turned to find a tall woman with scraped-back hair and pince-nez glasses on a fine chain pinching the bridge of her long nose.
‘Apologies,’ said Maud, immediately walking in the direction of the umbrella stand that the woman was indicating with a very straight and pointy finger.
‘You’re not a regular customer,’ continued the woman, as Maud turned back to find her almost blocking her way.
‘No, I’m not,’ bristled Maud. She’d had too busy and distressing a day to trifle with the petty details of a shop assistant’s world. ‘I just need to see your manager about something and then I’ll be on my way.’
‘I’m Miss Madden, I am the manageress,’ snapped the woman, glaring down her long nose.
‘I see,’ said Maud. ‘Well, perhaps you will be able to help me.’
Maud fished in her pocket and produced the ring that Sue had given her in the backyard. It glinted deep gold, even in the dim light of the shop.
‘We are not a pawn shop,’ said Miss Madden immediately, pulling her mouth down in disapproval.
Maud held the woman’s sharp gaze; she was not in the mood for snobbishness. ‘I realize that, Miss Madden. I just need to ask if any of your customers has reported the loss of this gold ring. It was found on the pavement immediately outside the shop.’
Miss Madden held out her hand to receive the ring. And then she removed her pince-nez and used them like a magnifying glass to inspect the item.
‘No, I’ve not heard of any losses being reported,’ she said, as she continued to scrutinize the ring. And then she looked at Maud with narrowed eyes. ‘Who found it? It looks like an expensive ring.’
‘I found it,’ said Maud, knowing that if there was any hint of it having been retrieved by a girl from the street then the police might be called.
‘I see,’ said the woman, replacing her pince-nez and handing the ring back to Maud. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but we at Lewis’s cannot help you today, madam. Now, good day.’
‘Thank you,’ said Maud politely, slipping the ring back inside her pocket.
The woman still stood there, right in front of Maud, scowling and waiting for her to leave.
Maud neatly sidestepped her, moving further into the shop, surveying the range of women’s clothing. She didn’t need anything but there was plenty of time before the pawn shop closed, and the devil in her wanted to prolong Miss Madden’s agony for as long as she possibly could.
After she’d browsed the women’s clothing, she moved to a selection of the men’s. Hearing Miss Madden tut as she stood behind her made her all the more determined to view the full range. Then she saw a display of shiny silver pocket watches, and she was genuinely interested. They were of a simple design, functional more than anything, and she was immediately drawn to them. She’d been trying to think of a suitable homecoming gift for Harry and had brought some money that she’d saved from her wages, thinking that she might find something at the pawn shop. But seeing these brand-new watches, at a surprisingly affordable price, she couldn’t resist. After all, a watch was a personal item and he could make it his own. And given that he never could turn up on time for anything, it would be ideal.
After paying Miss Madden, who seemed to almost begrudgingly agree to the sale, she watched her painstakingly wrap the watch in a tight layer of tissue paper before slipping it into a small brown paper bag. Maud waited patiently as Miss Madden secured the bag with a length of string. Eager now to leave the shop, she walked straight to the stand to pick out her folded umbrella and then heaved a sigh of relief as she heard the shop bell tinkle behind her.
The rain had stopped completely, and when she glanced up to the sky there was even a patch of blue. She took a deep breath and started to smile as she turned over the package in her hand before slipping it into her pocket. Not long to go now, my love, she murmured, counting off the days in her head as she started to walk away from the shop, with the weight of the gift for Harry tapping satisfyingly against her thigh.
11
‘Moral activity? There is scarcely such a thing possible! Everything is sketchy. The world does nothing but sketch.’
Florence Nightingale
Sue Cassidy hadn’t let them near her all the next day. She would only communicate with Sister Pritchard or Nurse Devlin, and she averted her eyes whenever Maud or Alice walked by. Maud had tried to approach her a number of times but she’d sat with her head down and stubbornly refused to speak. Maud could sense how sorrowful Alice was beginning to feel about the situation, but there seemed to be little that she could do to help.
‘She’ll come round,’ soothed Maud. ‘Just give her time. She’s firing all of her rage in our direction because we’re closest to her. What else can she do? Her mother hasn’t been back to visit since she walked out that day. Her anger has to go somewhere, and we are the ones who are best placed to deal with it. You know we are.’
Alice was nodding. ‘I know you’re right,’ she murmured, glancing once more in the direction of Sue’s bed. ‘I just hope it doesn’t take much longer, that’s all.’
Maud was all set to make another approach to Sue again later that day but, in the end, there was no need. She’d seen her sneaking a glance towards Alice as she walked down the ward and then, later on, she heard her call out
as they were passing by.
Maud continued on her way up to the sluice, with the bowl that she was carrying. ‘Sue wants me to wash her hair,’ Alice called excitedly as she came in through the door after her.
‘Phew!’ said Maud, turning with a smile. ‘At last! Well, why don’t you bring her in here? We can get her head over the sink, and I’ll go and get another kettle full of hot water so that we can have as much warm water as we need. There’s soft soap on the shelf up there, Alice.’
When Sue came quietly into the sluice with Alice, she looked a bit sheepish. But as soon as she glanced to Maud and started to mouth sorry, Maud was straight there, reaching out to her. ‘There’s no need to apologize. You needed to do what you had to do, that’s all there is to it. Now come on, let’s have a look at this mane of hair. Yes, it certainly does need some attention, doesn’t it?’
Sue leant over the sink, with a towel pressed over her eyes, and Alice poured the first lot of warm water over her matted hair. By the time Maud returned with the extra hot water, Sue’s head was a mass of bubbles. ‘I think I might have overdone the soft soap,’ laughed Alice, ‘but we’re giving it a good do, aren’t we?’ she said, getting her hands right in and massaging down to Sue’s scalp.
‘Are you all right in there?’ Maud whispered in Sue’s ear.
‘Yes, just about,’ was the muffled response.
Maud mixed the hot into the cold and they poured jug after jug of water over the girl’s head. When at last there were no suds left, Sue stood up, flushed in the face and slightly out of breath. Alice was already giving her hair a good towelling and Sue started to laugh as her head was jolted from side to side.
‘This really is squeaky clean,’ beamed Alice, clearly delighted. And it was very satisfying indeed to see the true colour and the first shine of Sue’s glorious locks.
Maud led the girl back through, to sit by the fire on one of the benches at the end of the ward. Another patient shoved up to make room for her. ‘Come on, lass,’ she said, ‘you’ll be catching pneumonia if you don’t get that lot dry soon.’
