Archie laughed; Bertie raised his monocle and his eyebrows; her grandmother said she was disappointed; the Marquis said ‘Really?’ and talked of the weather. The general opinion of the house party was of incredulous disapproval, though Lady Hindlesham formed a surprising, and temporary alliance with Lady Clarence by giving the latter the reassuring information that some London hospitals took lady pupils. ‘Paying probationers, I believe they call them now, just for a few months, Lady Clarence, some girls from very good families have gained a little nursing experience in this way – under the particular supervision of the Matron, of course.’
May said firmly: ‘I wish to be a proper nurse, Step-mamma,’ and Lady Clarence sighed.
Welcome support came from Lord Hindlesham. ‘I am on the governing boards of several hospitals, Miss Winton, but I always feel the patients are spruced up for our annual visits. You must let me know what really goes on when you’ve been nursing for a while.’ May was relieved that someone, at least, thought she was capable of staying the course. Then Louise Dumer said that although she personally couldn’t stand the sight of blood, Lord Canfield – with a blush – had told her how May had bound up his cut hand with a handkerchief when he’d once fallen headlong out of the dog cart, and she was sure May would be a very good nurse. May, mentally commending Bertie’s diplomacy, since she distinctly remembered ripping up her petticoat for this piece of first aid – and after all, she had pushed Bertie out in the first place – warmly thanked Louise for her confidence.
A letter was awaiting May at Allingham on their return, with an imminent interview date. May telegraphed an acceptance before she informed Lady Clarence, who immediately pointed out that May could not possibly go on that date since she was not herself free, having a houseful of guests. May insisted that she could stay with Great Aunt Ursula, who was now too old and infirm to leave her London home in the summer. Lord Clarence, when appealed to, finally gave his decision in favour of his daughter, and May and Bella set off for St Katharine’s on a scorching August afternoon. May’s impressions of her interview visit were of a confused medley of strange sounds and even stranger smells, and of looming grey buildings surrounding darkly shadowed courtyards.
A horse-faced woman wearing a severely cut dress of dark blue and with an improbably frilly housemaid’s cap on her head looked May up and down and commanded her to enter an inner sanctum – ‘Your maid will wait here.’
Matron proved to be a surprisingly young-looking woman with an even more improbable confection of lacy frills perched on her neat smooth hair.
‘Sit down, Miss Winton. How old are you?’
May jumped at the abrupt opening, but replied swiftly, ‘I’m twenty-two next week, Miss Anderson.’
‘Only just old enough. We do not accept nurses for training below that age, as you will know.’
May had not known, but thought it politic to conceal this ignorance.
‘Why do you wish to become a nurse?’ The question was fired at her with the velocity of a rifle bullet, and May hesitated before blurting out her answer.
‘I want something to do, I’m bored.’ As soon as she had said it May realised how lame her explanation sounded, but it was the truth, so she let it stand.
Matron had raised her eyebrows; now she subjected May to a searching scrutiny, and the latter was suddenly conscious of the expensive texture of her costume, and the tailored elegance of its fit – yet she had deliberately chosen the plainest outfit in her wardrobe.
‘So you were bored – yet many girls would have given their eyeteeth for your opportunities.’
May could think of no correct reply to this comment; she remained silent.
‘What skills have you to offer me if I should choose to accept you?’
May thought rapidly. ‘I was well taught by my governesses, I am fluent in French and German,’ Matron did not look impressed, so May plunged on. ‘I can sew, I’m very strong – and I can swim a full length underwater at the Bath Club.’
For the first time Matron smiled. ‘We do not expect our nurses to carry out their duties underwater, Miss Winton; and unlike Guy’s we do not have a swimming pool in our Nurses’ Home – perhaps you should have applied there. Why did you apply to St Katharine’s?’ Another rapid shot. ‘We don’t take lady pupils here, you know.’
‘I do not wish to be a lady pupil. I wrote to St Katharine’s because of its situation.’
The matron looked rather surprised. ‘Indeed? Despite the proximity of the River, Poplar is not generally considered a salubrious area of London.’
‘I should like to be near the Docks – you see, my grandfather built ships, though not in London, on the Tyne.’
‘Oh, and what was his name?’
‘Frears,’ May murmured, looking down at her gloves.
‘The Frears?’
‘Yes, Miss Anderson.’
‘Well, at this stage in an interview I usually point out to applicants that although nursing has its rewards, the financial are not amongst them. But I assume I may omit this in your case, Miss Winton.’ May nodded; Matron leant forward. ‘However, I should tell you that we have girls from a variety of different backgrounds at St Katharine’s – if you come here you would be wise to be discreet about your personal circumstances. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Miss Anderson, I do.’
‘Address me as “Matron” please, Miss Winton.’
It took May a moment to realise the significance of this last request. She stared at the woman behind the desk. ‘You’re accepting me?’
‘Subject to a satisfactory medical report from your own doctor, and on probation for the first six weeks, yes. You appear to be a tall, healthy girl, and you obviously have a strong pair of lungs.’ Matron leant forward and smiled winningly; inexperienced as she was, May felt a twinge of apprehension at the sight. ‘As it happens, Miss Winton, one of our intending probationers, who was due to start in September, is unable to begin for family reasons. So we have an immediate vacancy for you; how very fortunate. Send us your measurements by return of post and we will have your uniform dresses waiting for you – charged to your account, of course. Good afternoon, Miss Winton.’
The interview was over. May was in such a daze that she saw little of the hospital; she and Bella climbed back into Aunt Ursula’s landau and the coachman steered carefully into the stream of traffic along the Dock Road. When she thought over events later she could not decide what she had said to gain a place so rapidly: was it the mention of the Frears fortune; or her boast that she could swim a length underwater – or had Matron simply accepted her because she was short-handed? May rather suspected the latter, much though she would have preferred to believe that it was some sterling quality which Matron had instantly discerned beneath her frivolous exterior. Well, she had made her bid for independence, she would try her hardest to stick at it. But she felt her enthusiasm drain away as she stood again in front of the grimy portals of St Katharine’s.
‘Where do you want your trunk, Miss?’
The cab driver’s voice shook May out of her reverie. She was on her own now. Lord Clarence, reluctantly abandoning his partridges for the day, had escorted her to London on the early train, and taken her to lunch at his Club. But May insisted on saying goodbye there and making the final stage of her journey alone: ‘After all, I must learn to look after myself now, Papa,’ and her father, looking suddenly stunned, had acquiesced. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and marched towards a pair of beady eyes fixed on her from the porter’s cubbyhole.
‘Would you be so kind as to show me the way to the Nurses’ Home? I have my luggage with me.’
The porter’s head poked forward, like a tortoise coming out of its shell. He subjected May and her luggage to a searching scrutiny. May smiled at him, and his leathery features softened fractionally in response. He gestured into the recesses of his lair. ‘Jack.’ A gangling lad with a cheerful smile and a bush of red hair appeared from the shadows: ‘Evening, Miss.’
‘Nusses’ ’Ome – and luggage, trunk later.’ And the tortoise subsided into immobility, and resumed his steady stare across the archway.
May turned and paid the driver, who had fetched her luggage and was now staring in horrified fascination at the looming bulk of the hospital.
‘Rather you than me, Miss. I reckon ’Olloway jail ’ud be more cosy.’
He grinned when he saw the size of his tip, leant forward and muttered confidentially, ‘Any time yer wants to escape, you let me know. I’ll be round wiv the files and a rope ladder.’ Chuckling to himself he left.
May gazed after him, feeling totally bereft: her last contact with the outside world had gone.
‘This way, Miss.’ The obliging Jack had already picked up her baggage and now he set off at a brisk pace round the courtyard. ‘You’ll like the Nurses’ ’Ome, it’s new, just finished last year – opened by ’Er Majesty ’erself, it was.’
May remembered the Queen, elegant and beautiful in the drawing room at Stemhalton, and could scarcely imagine her in these grimy surroundings. Still, they had probably cleaned the place up a bit – planted some flowers, perhaps. Jack was still chatting; he seemed to need no answers – no doubt association with the tortoise had taught him to dispense with these. ‘Course, there’s still the old Nurses’ ’Ome, round the back, that’s used too, but not for the new nurses – Matron likes them to start off nice.’ By this time they were approaching a high, bare frontage of raw red brick, pierced with row upon row of oblong windows and totally devoid of ornamentation. May wondered fleetingly what the old Nurses’ Home could be like if this was ‘nice’. But her guide had not finished. ‘I ain’t bin in myself, but,’ in an awed voice, ‘they say every room’s got ’lectric light, with its own switch.’
May gulped. ‘What is the lighting in the wards, then?’
‘Well, some of ’em’s electric, but others is gas and Abel Block, well, that’s still lamps and candles. ’Ere we are, Miss.’ He beat a tattoo on the door, which was instantly opened by a thin-faced elderly maid. She looked harassed.
‘Good afternoon, Nurse. Don’t waste time Jack, give me the bags. Is that all?’
‘I have a trunk as well,’ May said hastily.
‘Fetch it Jack, don’t dawdle, may I have your name, Nurse? This way, follow me.’ May gasped ‘Winton’, and was already rushing to keep up, along the corridor, breasting a flight of stairs at top speed, then up again, and again, right, left – May was lost long before the maid skidded to a halt outside one of a row of identical doors and flung it open.
‘In here, Nurse Winton. Go down to Home Sister’s room in ten minutes.’ She turned away.
‘Where is…’ Before May had finished the maid had interrupted.
‘Sanitary facilities at the end of the corridor.’ And she was off.
May closed the door, then stood in front of it surveying her new domain. It was a narrow, high room with an iron bedstead down one side, a peculiar piece of furniture that was half wardrobe, half chest on the other, and, in front of the window, a small table and high backed chair. That was all; and May noticed that the lower pane of the window was of frosted glass. The only concessions to comfort were a minute square rug on the polished linoleum floor and a brown speckled mirror hanging over the washstand, with its plain white jug and basin.
With hands that were suddenly shaking May unfastened her handbag and took out her brush and comb. By the time she had visited the ‘sanitary facilities’, washed her hands and face and tidied her hair the ten minutes were up. She looked round for the bell to summon the maid, and did not find it; the full realisation of where she was and what she had done hit her with the force of a physical blow. She pulled herself together. ‘Don’t be a fool, May,’ she chided herself. ‘You came here because you wanted a change, well, you’ve certainly got one. Brace up and enjoy it.’ She marched to the door, flung it open and set off down the corridor.
Five minutes and several flights of stairs later May found herself still no nearer Home Sister’s room. A slight figure in a neat green costume appeared at the other end of the corridor. It was a pretty girl with brown curly hair and a worried expression. Each rushed forward with the same question.
‘Could you tell me the way to…?’ Both stopped at once. May spoke first.
‘Are you new too?’
‘Yes, and lost. I’m Alice Rydal.’
‘How do you do? My name is May Winton.’
They solemnly shook hands, and then looked round for help. A door opened further down the corridor and a woman in blue stripes and a white cap shot out. May and Alice Rydal rushed forward with an urgent plea for directions.
‘Down there, first right and second door on the left.’ The nurse tossed the instructions over her shoulder as she scuttled off.
A sharp ‘Come in’, followed instantly on their knock. They opened the door and found themselves confronted by a tall, gaunt-featured woman in a plain dark blue dress sporting an incongruous display of white lace frills on her hair and a large white bow under her jutting chin.
‘Nurses Winton and Rydal, I presume. You’re late.’ The voice was uncompromising. ‘Too late for tea. Follow me, Nurses.’ May just had time to notice that there were four other young women in the room before there was the clatter of cups hastily deposited on saucers and the formation of a small procession. May and Alice brought up the rear. This time the journey was shorter and ended in a large airy classroom well-lit by windows set high up in the wall, presumably to avoid the temptations of a view.
‘Sit down, Nurses.’
As soon as they were seated Home Sister produced a piece of lace-edged muslin and proceeded to instruct them in the art of cap construction. More pieces were produced and they all made caps which Home Sister promptly ripped apart. It was some time later before the correct arrangements of tapes and ribbons had received grudging approval, whereupon Home Sister embarked on a lecture on their duties as probationers. As far as May could understand these involved cleanliness, fresh air – ‘All nurses must walk out once a day – all nurses must sleep with windows open’ – and the eating of regular meals. May cheered up on hearing of this last responsibility, and hopefully followed Home Sister and her other charges to supper.
Supper was served at one end of a big, empty room and May soon realised the necessity for Home Sister’s order, since it appeared to consist of stewed leather in grey gravy with a helping of what might once have been cabbage. Fortunately the rice pudding was creamy and much more palatable, and the cocoa quite pleasant. The meal passed in silence, the presence of Home Sister at the head of the table effectively discouraging all conversation. May noticed that she did not partake herself – had she eaten already, or were Sisters above such humble needs as food?
As soon as the last cup had been set down they were off again, back to the bare classroom where they awaited the arrival of Matron herself, to address them on the subject of Nursing Ethics. She now seemed a much sterner and more remote figure than at May’s interview, and the winning smile had vanished utterly.
Nursing Ethics were apparently embodied in the words obedience, punctuality, accuracy and cleanliness. It was becoming clear, May reflected, that in the hospital, Godliness came a very poor fifth. It further emerged that the new nurses would have to learn to look without flinching on repulsive sights, manage delirious patients by sheer force of personality and have an inexhaustible supply of patience. May’s heart sank. Matron then moved on to etiquette. She assured them that hospital etiquette was very simple: nurses apparently must stand in the presence of the visiting medical staff, the governors, the treasurers, the superintendent and, of course, Matron herself. At this point one girl half rose from her seat, and had to be frowningly restrained by Home Sister; she subsided in a blushing heap. Nurses must also stand in the presence of the resident medical officers, the Sister, and the nurse who was in authority over them at the time. May had decided by now that if she ever did wish to sit down she would have to go and vi
sit the tortoise in his cubby-hole, since there was clearly no one else in whose presence she could do so.
A gleam of humanity did show through when Matron pointed out that patients’ visitors, however poor and ragged, were entitled to equal respect, and more consideration in the light of their obvious anxiety and distress – but only, she emphasised, at the properly alloted visiting times. Except for clergymen: Matron rounded off her speech with the information that, ‘It is rarely wrong to admit a clergyman at once, unless there is some reason, obvious to everyone, that it is not possible.’ And on this note Matron ended her speech and swept through the door held open by Home Sister.
On her departure Home Sister rounded up her flock and sent them off to their rooms, with a reminder that lights out was at ten-thirty and the rising bell would ring at a quarter to six. The girl next to May squealed at this news but was rapidly silenced by a minatory glare. Home Sister escorted each new nurse to her room and bade a frosty goodnight: ‘Trunks outside before you retire, Nurses.’
May unpacked her trunk and took her clothes out from their tissue paper wrappings, uncreased as a result of Bella’s skilful packing. Her dresses and costumes hung, looking distinctly subdued, in the strange, cramped wardrobe.
She struggled out of her clothes, her hands fumbling with their unaccustomed task of unfastening all the hooks and buttons, arranged her new uniform over the single chair, ready for the morning, and climbed into bed. She began to write letters announcing her arrival at St Katharine’s to her parents, and then to Emily, in India. There was a rush of footsteps and voices in the corridor then the noise died down again. Just as she was engrossed in a description of the hospital supper for Emily the light abruptly went out. She stumbled to the switch and tugged at it, then noticed that all the other windows were dark too, though the corridor was still dimly lit. At last she realised that when Home Sister had said ‘Lights out at ten-thirty’, that was exactly what she had meant. May felt her way back to the bed, climbed in and fell asleep.
Mayfair Rebel Page 7
