by Jane Smith
‘Honestly, Simone, you’re the world’s worst patient,’ Carly grumbled.
‘I didn’t ask to be sick,’ Simone sulked. ‘And I didn’t ask you to bring me back to the present either.’
‘Oh, you’d rather have died, would you?’ Carly snapped.
That shut her up.
The girls had been back for a week, and Simone was recovering well with the help of antibiotics. But her recovery wasn’t quick enough for Simone. She was bored.
Simone’s dad put his head around the door. ‘Is there anything I can get you?’
‘Vegemite toast.’
Simone’s dad looked worried. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Simone rolled her eyes as he left the room, but Carly could tell she was pleased. Her father had taken a whole week off work to look after her.
The door opened again and Simone’s mother hobbled into the bedroom on crutches. ‘Carly and Dora, it’s time to go to the Tube station. We’ve got a full schedule today!’
‘Leaving me alone again?’ Simone complained.
‘Your friends don’t want to spend their entire holiday in your sickroom,’ Mrs Shaw replied. ‘Besides, your father will keep you company.’
‘Have fun then ... without me!’ Simone shouted as Carly and Dora followed Mrs Shaw out the door.
They did have fun. They crammed themselves into the train and travelled underground through the city. They rode on the London Eye and gasped at the view of the city – so wide and sprawling and grand – from their glass cabin at the top of the giant wheel. They went to the Tower of London, where Carly and Dora toured the dungeons and the museums and queued up to see the Crown Jewels, while Simone’s mum sat with her foot up in the café and drank tea.
They got back to Simone’s flat late in the afternoon – tired, dirty and contented. It was good to be back in the twenty-first century. It was good not to worry about sickness and war. It was good just to be a tourist again, and a kid.
Carly felt a bit bad about leaving Simone behind while they had fun. She needn’t have worried though; Simone was in a cheerful mood when they got home. She had showered and dressed, and was sitting at the dining table with her father. They had spread papers all over the table and were bent over a book. Simone smiled up at her friends. ‘We’re doing algebra,’ she said.
‘But you hate maths,’ Carly said, surprised. ‘You flunked it.’
‘I know,’ Simone said happily. ‘But Dad’s explaining it to me. It’s not that hard.’
The next day, Simone was well enough to go out.
‘Not far,’ her father warned. ‘And I want you home in an hour.’
‘Worry wart,’ Simone said, but she kissed him on the cheek as they left.
They took the lift downstairs and walked along the busy street. Simone stopped and studied the map on her phone. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘I think Florence used to live somewhere around here.’
Carly’s heart pounded. ‘That’s interesting,’ she said. ‘But we’re not going back.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Simone said with a sly look. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her lace ribbon. ‘You haven’t been cooped up in a sickbed getting bored to death for the last week. I want some adventure!’
‘Wait,’ Dora protested. ‘You were only cooped up in a sickbed because you nearly died from the last adventure!’
‘We’re NOT going back,’ Carly cried. But it was too late. Simone had wrapped the lace around her neck and was tying a bow.
‘We can’t let her go alone!’ Dora yelped. ‘She’s not well enough yet.’
‘Ugh, that girl is so annoying!’ Carly said as she and Dora grabbed the shawls from their bags, flung them around their shoulders, and plunged back to the past.
They were still in London. That was a relief.
The entrance to the Burlington Hotel was right in front of them, where moments ago there had been apartment buildings.
‘It’s Florence’s hotel,’ Dora said. ‘Should we go in?’
Carly shrugged. She was still a bit cross about being dragged back to the past. ‘Do what you like.’
As they stood on the footpath uncertainly, they noticed something odd. People who walked past slowed down at the doors to the hotel. They stopped and pointed and craned their necks to look at it. Carly heard one passer-by say, ‘That’s where the famous Florence Nightingale lives!’
At that moment the doors opened and a man in a three-piece suit, with a round belly, a bald head and a bushy whiskers trotted down the steps towards them.
‘Excuse me,’ Simone said. ‘Is Florence Nightingale in the hotel?’
The man frowned. ‘She doesn’t enjoy all this attention.’
‘But we’re her friends,’ Dora joined in. ‘We worked with her in the Crimea.’
‘Did you now?’ The man turned to study Dora with interest. ‘Pleased to meet you. My name is Dr Farr. I am also a friend of Miss Nightingale’s.’
The girls introduced themselves, and
Simone asked if they could visit Florence.
‘You can try,’ Dr Farr replied. ‘But I don’t know if she’ll see you. She’s never been well since the war, and she’s busy working, though she rarely goes out. She doesn’t like to be distracted.’
They thanked the doctor and made their way up to Florence’s rooms. Simone knocked, and a maid let them in. They found Florence sitting at a desk, staring at papers. She greeted them with a smile. She looked pale and thin - and sad.
‘It’s good to see you,’ Dora said. ‘You’ve become famous!’
Florence sighed. ‘I wish it wasn’t so ... I don’t deserve it.’
‘What rubbish!’ Simone cried. ‘What about all those lives you saved? No wonder people love you!’
‘I didn’t save them,’ Florence said.
Carly, Dora and Simone stood in puzzled silence.
Then Carly asked, ‘What do you mean?’
Florence shrugged and waved a hand at the papers on her desk. The girls crowded over them. They saw lots of numbers and old-fashioned handwriting. They saw something that looked like a complicated pie graph. They couldn’t make sense of any of it.
‘These figures tell me a disturbing story,’ Florence went on. ‘Did you know that more soldiers died at my hospital than in any of the other hospitals during the Crimean War?’
‘But ...’ Carly stammered. ‘But ... they were sick and starving when they came to us. They were too sick to save!’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Florence said. ‘But it’s not true.’
‘Hang on,’ Dora interrupted. ‘The death rate dropped after you took control.’
Florence shook her head sadly. ‘No. Since the war ended over a year ago, Dr Farr and I have been studying the evidence. The death rate dropped after John Sutherland took control. It was his reforms that made the difference. The drainage, the sewerage, the cleaning up. What people need for health is sanitation, fresh air and light.’
Simone glanced at Carly. I told you so was in Simone’s eyes, but she didn’t say it. Instead, she said, ‘But your nursing still made a difference. It made the soldiers feel comfortable and cared for. That’s important.’
‘Maybe.’ Florence shrugged. ‘But people talk about me as if I’m a hero, and I’m not. Do you know, I always wanted to open a training school for nurses? Well, I’ve done that now, thanks to that fundraiser. But I’ve lost interest in it – what’s the point? How can nurses heal people when the filth in this country just kills them anyway?’ Florence slumped and put her head in her hands.
‘OK,’ Carly said slowly. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’
‘I’ll have to make this news public, I suppose,’ Florence said tearfully. ‘I’m not the one they should love ... it’s the sanitation experts.’
‘No,’ Dora said. ‘They love you because you’re kind and strong. Anyone else would just take all the glory and never admit they were wrong. People love you because you care!’
‘Besides,’ Simon
e said with a sly smile. ‘You can use your fame. Tell the world what a difference good sanitation makes. Make the government clean up the cities! People will listen to you.’
‘You’re right,’ Florence said, standing and clasping her hands. She wiped her tears away, and her eyes sparkled. ‘You’re absolutely right!’ Then she kissed the girls on the cheek and said, ‘Please excuse me. I have to get to work.’
So Carly, Dora and Simone said goodbye, left Florence’s hotel room, and stood once more on the street.
‘Time to go?’ Carly asked, and her friends nodded. And with a tug at their shawls and lace, they were gone.
By the time they got back to the flat, Simone was weary.
‘I guess I’m not back to full strength yet,’ she admitted.
Her parents were waiting for them.
‘Where were you?’ Simone’s mother asked. ‘We were worried.’
‘We were just walking. It was less than an hour!’ Simone replied.
‘Seemed longer,’ her father grumbled. ‘We’ve got used to having you around.’
Simone smiled. ‘Want a game of Monopoly?’
Mr and Mrs Shaw agreed, and they all sat down at the table to play. The phone rang.
Mr Shaw grunted loudly. ‘Don’t get it.’
But Simone was already on her feet. She spoke into the receiver, listened, and cupped her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘It’s Bianca,’ she said with a frown. ‘She wants you to go to the office. Something about an important meeting.’
‘Tell her ... tell her I won’t be back for the rest of the week. Tell her I’m in an important meeting right now.’
Simone beamed and gave Bianca the message. ‘She wasn’t happy,’ she said as she came back to the table.
‘Too bad,’ said Mr Shaw. ‘We haven’t got you here for long. We’re going to make the most of it.’
Simone grinned and rolled the dice.
Florence Nightingale is well known as ‘the mother of modern nursing’. She is most famous for her work during the Crimean War, but she did her best work in England after the war.
When she returned from the war, Florence investigated why so many British lives had been lost through disease. A very clever doctor and mathematician, Dr William Farr, studied the patterns of illness and showed Florence that poor hygiene in the hospitals had caused most of the deaths. Her own hospital had been the worst of them all.
Florence was horrified. But she put her new knowledge to good use. She spent the rest of her life spreading the word about the importance of fresh air, good drainage, sewerage and waste removal. She persuaded the government to make changes that saved countless lives. These were the days before people understood how disease was spread. They didn’t know about viruses or bacteria – what we call ‘germs’. But they were starting to know that hygiene, fresh air and clean water were important. Florence’s reforms allowed people to live longer, healthier lives.
All her life, Florence had wanted to help people. She came from a rich family and she didn’t need to work. But she felt guilty that her family had so much money while other people starved. She believed that God wanted her to help poor people. Her parents and sister
thought that nursing wasn’t a respectable thing for a young lady to do, and they tried to stop her – but Florence wouldn’t be stopped.
Florence’s first job was in the Institute for Sick Gentlewomen in London. She was very good at organising the hospital and quickly became its superintendent. But that wasn’t enough for her. She wanted to train other nurses and make a real difference to people’s lives. When the Crimean War broke out in 1853, the Times newspaper reported terrible stories about the conditions in the army hospitals. The British Government sent Florence and thirty-eight nurses to fix the problem.
The hospital at Scutari was near the city of Constantinople – now known as Istanbul, a city of modern-day Turkey. It was a long way from the fighting, but the conditions there were every bit as awful as described in this book.
The patients loved Florence Nightingale. Carrying a lamp, she used to roam the corridors at night to check up on the patients. One of them later wrote a poem in which he called her ‘The lady with the lamp’. The nickname stuck.
Queen Victoria really did send her a brooch, and a fundraiser brought in enough money to build a training hospital for nurses.
Florence wrote many reports and books about public health and nursing that helped improve lives. She also did important work improving sanitation in India. In 1907, King Edward gave her an Order of Merit, an award that recognised her service. In 1908, she became the first woman to receive the Freedom of the City of London – another important recognition of her good works.
Florence became sick when she was in the Crimea, and she never fully recovered. Sometimes she worked from her bed because she was too ill to get up. She died in London on 13 August 1910, when she was ninety years old.
Florence was a remarkable woman. She was kind and practical, brave and clever. Her father had given her a good education and she loved maths. She really did invent a graph that was a bit like the pie graphs you might use in maths today.
Most importantly, Florence was able to admit her mistakes and learn from them. And she cared enough about people to try and make the world a better place.
What’s it like being a woman in Victorian England?
What’s it like? Don’t get me started. Men make all the rules and they don’t like women questioning them. They want you to fix things but they don’t want to give you the power to do it. You have to be clever. You have to cooperate ... up to a point. You have to talk them around to your point of view. It’s not easy.
So why do you bother?
What choice do I have? I’m so lucky. I have so much, and others have so little. It’s my duty to help others. How could I ignore all the suffering in the world? I know that cleaning up the cities can save lives, so how could I do nothing about it? I have the power to make things better, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.
If you hadn’t been a nurse, what would you have wanted to be?
I’d have been a mathematician. I love statistics.
It teaches you so much about the world!
Do you ever wish you had just taken the easy life?
Don’t be ridiculous.
I attribute my success to this:
I never gave or took an excuse.
*
Live life when you have it.
Life is a splendid gift – there is nothing small about it.
Jane Smith likes books, history, chocolate and cats. She is grateful to the heroic women in the Carly Mills books who helped make the world a better place.
