The Secret Armour Read online

  The Secret Armour

  Lucilla Andrews

  Copyright © The Estate of Lucilla Andrews 2017

  This edition first published 2017 by Corazon Books

  (Wyndham Media Ltd)

  27, Old Gloucester Street, London WC1N 3AX

  First published 1955

  www.lucillaandrews.com

  The author has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, organisations and events are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organisations and events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Cover artwork images: Shutterstock © ADS Portrait/Chaadaeva/Bairachnyi Dmitry/Apostrophe

  Also by Lucilla Andrews

  from Corazon Books

  The Print Petticoat

  One Night in London (The Jason Trilogy Book 1)

  A Weekend in the Garden (The Jason Trilogy Book 2)

  Corazon Books is reissuing

  all of Lucilla Andrews’s novels.

  Be the first to know about the next reissue

  by signing up to our free newsletter.

  Go to www.lucillaandrews.com

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Preview: One Night in London by Lucilla Andrews

  Preview: A Nurse’s Life by Jane Grant

  Preview: A Country Practice by Judith Colquhoun

  Preview: The Country Doctor by Jean McConnell

  Preview: A Doctor’s life by Robert Clifford

  Preview: Home from Home by Cath Cole

  Preview: City Hospital by Keith Miles

  Chapter One

  A SAILOR IN A WARD KITCHEN

  The hospital smelt differently at night. The air was full of cooking, of coal-smoke, and coke-fumes. The scent of iodoform, of ether, and the exhaust of the ambulances in the yard outside, had gone with the daylight.

  I felt strange and lonely as I fixed my bicycle in the rack. I heard someone call my name, ‘Where’s Nurse Howard?’

  ‘Here,’ I said. Then I remembered, and added, ‘Nurse.’

  A girl came near in the darkness. She was very tall. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a message for you from Night Sister, Nurse. You are to come with me to William Brown, not to Agnes Small as Matron’s office told you this morning.’ She moved away quickly, and I had to skip a few steps to keep up with her. I recognized her as one of the fourth-year State Registered Nurses. I wondered how many more months, on top of the eleven I had already spent in the wards, would have to pass before I could walk as speedily and as smoothly. I galloped after her up the iron outside staircase to William Brown Ward. She flicked on her torch and held it behind her. ‘Mind the gaps between the stairs.’ She walked with the assurance of complete knowledge of her surroundings, and, behind her, I felt my way along the dark balcony. The square crack of light ahead was the main entrance to the orthopaedic block. She opened the door and preceded me into the nurses’ cloakroom.

  ‘I don’t suppose you know my name,’ she said. ‘We haven’t worked together before. I’m Mallinson.’ She took off her cape and gloves as she spoke and smoothed her unruffled fair hair. Her face was very pale, her deep-set blue eyes, tired.

  I replied, ‘Thank you, Nurse.’

  She unbuckled her wrist-watch and pinned it in her bib pocket. ‘We’ve got five minutes, as we can’t go in till half-past,’ she said. ‘I’d better tell you the geography. You haven’t worked in this block before?’

  ‘No, Nurse.’

  She sighed. ‘I knew it in my bones. In all my night duties at Benedict’s I’ve never had a new pro who so much as knew where the sluice was. I suppose you’ve never seen a splint outside of the Preliminary Training School?’

  I knew it was going to make her still more gloomy, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I said, ‘No, Nurse,’ again.

  ‘Ah, well!’ She braced herself. ‘That door there’ ‒ she pointed with her torch ‒ ‘is Sister’s office. It leads directly into the spinal ward. Fourteen beds. We’ll go into the diagnoses later. All you have to remember now is that they are my baby and that you must never, never, under any circumstances, attempt to move any spinal without me or another senior to help you. Got that?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Along that corridor’ ‒ she turned round ‒ ‘are the fractures. The near ward, acute, is your specific concern; the far is Miss Parks’, the orderly’s. She’s absolutely first-class, and a boon and a blessing. The main kitchen is the first door on the left, the fracture sluice between the two wards, the spinal up the other end.’ She looked me over, said my cap was a bit far back and I had better do something about it. She said it kindly, as if she was critical only because she was responsible. I pulled my cap forward as she looked at her watch again.

  She glanced back at me. ‘That’ll do.’ Then she turned human and grinned. ‘Nervous?’

  I had heard a good deal about Sister William Brown, and most of what I had heard must have been written on my face at that moment.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Nurse Mallinson soothingly. ‘Sister’s all right, so long as you don’t let her get you down.’

  Sister William Brown was a hefty young woman in the mid-thirties. She had a large jaw and a thin mouth. William Brown was reputed to be the best-run block in the hospital, and Sister William Brown was reputed to be the best trainer of probationers in the hospital. She was also reputed to terrorize all first-year probationers. Her standards were absolute. Included in these were her ideas on punctuality.

  In William Brown it was as great a crime to be five minutes early on duty as five minutes late. Sister said that to arrive too early showed a slipshod mind. She would not tolerate slipshod minds. Which was why Nurse Mallinson had given me a ward-geography lesson in the cloakroom.

  Sister looked up from the desk and above us to the clock on the wall. The hands showed exactly half-past eight. She capped her pen, told us to sit down, and gave us a quick and concise report.

  When she had finished she turned her head slowly towards me. Her eyes were pale brown and cold. She said nothing. I was not sure what to do. The Sisters in the three wards in which I had worked at Benedict’s had all ended their reports with, ‘Thank you, Nurse, that will be all,’ as dismissal. Sister’s black eyebrows travelled as slowly up towards her cap-frills as her head had turned to me.

  ‘Glue on the chair?’ she asked calmly. ‘Or are you merely short of breath, Nurse Howard?’

  I bounced up. ‘Neither, Sister! Thank you, Sister!’ I made for the door.

  ‘And where do you think you are going, Nurse?’ she called after me. ‘And what are you going to do?’

  I held my hands behind my back as hospital etiquette demanded, and guessed wildly. ‘To put on the milk for the drinks, Sister.’

  I had never done any night duty, but in the past eleven months I had occasionally come across the night pros bustling round the ward kitchens as I had gone off duty with the day staff. Every night pro I had seen appeared to live in an eternal milk-round. Sister nodded. ‘Off you go, then.’ She
glanced momentarily at her report-book, and, as she did, Nurse Mallinson winked at me, then re-composed her expression as Sister raised her head.

  I groped my way along the dark balcony. There was a perfectly good light that it was my job to see was kept on until midnight, but I did not discover this until later. The next square of light was the kitchen door. It was only when I was inside again that I remembered the corridor entrance which Mallinson had carefully shown me.

  There was a milk-churn on the floor by the refrigerator. I did not know if all the patients had milk, or even how many patients there were. I was too hazy after the report and my meeting with Sister Willy Brown to know anything, but at least I could put some milk on to heat.

  I tried lifting the churn, but it was too heavy. I looked for, and found, a large double-saucepan, put the inside part down on the floor, and tilted the churn. This worked beautifully, and I did not spill a drop. I was delighted. I was clearly a born nurse. Sister Willy Brown and I would get along like a house on fire.

  I picked up the full saucepan; the handle fell off, the kitchen was deluged with milk. Horrified, I stood in the middle of the mess and gaped helplessly at the door. Then I realized why I was staring in that direction, and that any moment now Sister might come in through that door. I leapt towards the sink and the floor-cloth. My back was towards the door when I heard it open. I dropped the floorcloth. ‘I’m sorry, Sister …’ I began as I turned round.

  It was not Sister Willy Brown. It was not even Nurse Mallinson. It was a man I had never seen before, who wore a duffle coat over pyjamas, and who had one foot in a walking-calliper. ‘Don’t look so upset, Nurse,’ he said cheerfully.

  I stared at him blankly. I had forgotten about patients. He waved his hand amicably, as if to get my attention, then hopped neatly on to the table and took off his duffle coat. ‘And for heaven’s sake don’t cry, Nurse! Waste of time, crying over spilt milk! Forgive the quick change, but I can’t swab the deck in my nautical garb.’ He rolled up his sleeves. ‘Didn’t you know the handle was broken?’

  I shook my head. ‘I was in a state! I was a mug not to have noticed it.’

  He smiled. ‘Sister Willy Brown been on the warpath for a new scalp? Not to worry. Just hand me that floor-cloth.’

  ‘Of course not ‒’

  ‘Don’t argue, child,’ he said firmly. ‘Just do what Uncle tells you and get busy bailing out some more milk ‒ with a cup this time ‒ into that thick chap on the shelf over there. That’s the one!’

  It was wonderful to be told what to do. Not to have to think for myself. I obeyed him thankfully. Then I discovered that my few months’ training had gone deeper than I knew. I heard my voice making professional objections about the damage he might do to his foot.

  ‘Leg,’ he said kindly, ‘and that’s sheer nonsense! This is good exercise, Nurse. Exercise is the thing for orthopods, or didn’t you know?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ I said meekly, as I started all over again with the churn.

  He was very quick, and cleared the mess far more efficiently than I should have done. He rinsed out the floor-cloth, replaced it in the bucket under the sink, washed his hands, and hopped back on to the table. He took a cigarette-case out of his pocket and glanced across at me. ‘Hallo! Now what?’ he asked.

  I was beside the dresser. ‘I was wondering which cups to use?’

  ‘Cups, breakfast. The ones without the blue rims. And feeders for the boys in the back room’ ‒ he jerked a thumb ‒ ‘in there. And we all like cocoa, please, with sugar. The cocoa is in the left-hand cupboard on your right, if you follow me?’

  I had relaxed enough to smile. ‘I do,’ I said gratefully. ‘Thank you.’

  He nodded approvingly. ‘That’s the girl!’

  I laughed outright. ‘Do you always do this?’

  ‘Mother’s Help,’ he said, ‘that’s me. The Nurses’ Pet. The one man who can get around on his two feet in Willy Brown.’ He grimaced. ‘Maybe I should say one and a half feet! And my name is Corford, David Corford.’

  He looked as if he expected some reaction to his name. As I had none, I said my own name was Howard. I even thought of myself as a surname these days.

  ‘Just Nurse Blank Howard? Nothing in front of it? Come now, Nurse, be a devil and go the whole hog. After all my brother is on the staff, which makes me practically one of the family.’

  I had no idea who his brother might be, and I thought I would probably be sent to Matron or transferred to another ward if I told him my Christian name. And then I thought about Sister Willy Brown, and told him what it was.

  He smiled through his small cloud of cigarette-smoke. He had a very pleasant smile. ‘Your parents must have had second sight, Nurse Howard,’ he announced. ‘Hey! Watch out for that milk!’

  When Nurse Mallinson arrived in the kitchen a few minutes later, I was alone and filling the cups with cocoa. ‘This is all very efficient, Nurse Howard.’

  I could not take the credit, so I told her I had had help. She smiled. ‘I guessed that. Mr Corford generally drops in to help at this time of the evening. He did most of your predecessor’s work for her. You’re dead lucky to have him in your ward, particularly as he has no right to be in here at all.’

  I asked why.

  ‘He’s a private patient. He should be in the Private Wing, only it was full when he came in, so they offered him a temporary bed here, and now he wants to stay. He’s Alistair Corford’s brother, to complicate matters further.’

  ‘Alistair Corford? Should I know him, Nurse?’

  ‘You should,’ she said grimly, ‘seeing as how he’s the Senior Surgical Officer in the hospital.’ Then she unbent. ‘Don’t let the fact that you didn’t know him bother you. You never know anyone’s name in your first year. They are all just so many men in white coats. But remember the long white coats are the big boys. Or did you know that?’

  ‘I did,’ I said, and she laughed.

  ‘Then there’s hope for you yet,’ she said, and picked up a tray of filled cups. ‘You’d be surprised at how many pros I’ve had who didn’t. This Mr Corford,’ she went on, ‘isn’t a doc, he’s in the Navy. A Lieutenant-Commander, I think. He’s had a lot of trouble with his leg. He’s got a plated femur and a packet of shrapnel-splinters left over from the War. Mr Vanders is going to tidy it up for him next week. I expect he should be in some R.N. hospital, but he’s on leave and Alistair is his brother, so I imagine someone has pulled a string and got him into Benedict’s. Now’ ‒ I had filled my own tray ‒ ‘we must get on. I’ll take these and you round, and after to-night you can do this alone.’

  Nurse Mallinson put her tray down on the centre table of the acute fracture ward and said good evening, this was Nurse Howard. The men sat up or raised their heads and said, ‘Good evening, Nurses,’ like well-behaved schoolboys. We handed round the cocoa, then moved into the chronic ward and repeated the performance.

  ‘We’ll go back to the acutes,’ said Mallinson. ‘Leave the empty tray here. You’ll want it later for collecting.’

  In a corner bed in the first ward was a man with both eyes and half his face bandaged. His right leg was stretched in a hip spica plaster. Mallinson took one of his hands carefully in her own and nodded to me to do the same.

  ‘Nurse Howard come to pay her respects, Langley. How are you to-night?’

  ‘Doing nicely, ta very much, Nurse. And ’ow’s Nurse ’Oward?’

  Mallinson said quietly, ‘Langley had an argument with the road.’

  His lips smiled. ‘It was me motor-cycle what ’ad the argument, ducks!’ Then he said he wouldn’t have no more of them sleeping-tablets, ta ever so, as he thought he’d sleep lovely, and he wasn’t keen on taking all them aspirins an’ all.

  We turned his pillows, straightened his draw-sheet, and, having made him as comfortable as we could, moved on to the next bed. The men lay or sat, reading, smoking, knitting, with their injured limbs sticking out at incredible angles, which they all appeared to ignore. Nurse Mallin
son showed me how to move their pillows and selves. ‘And you can’t have any hard and fast P.T.S. rules on bed-making with orthopods, Nurse Howard; you’ve got to deal with each fracture individually, even if it’s not in the book.’

  We straightened more sheets, rubbed backs, heels, and ankles; made fresh ring-pads; tucked cotton wool round rough plaster edges; collected cups; turned down lights; drew curtains.

  ‘Another thing, Howard, when you go round at night be careful of your apron skirts. Don’t let ’em brush against the weights, and don’t you knock into a bed-rail or catch hold of one if you’re talking. Any sudden jolt can be sheer murder for these chaps.’

  Mr Corford limped into the small room that lay off my fracture ward as we turned down his bed.

  ‘You’re bright and early to-night, Nurse Mallinson, it’s not yet ten.’

  ‘We’ve still got the spinals to settle,’ she said, ‘but Nurse Howard can come back and fix you up after that if you like?’

  He steadied himself on his locker top. ‘I might as well enjoy my freedom for a few more nights. Thanks.’ He smiled down at her. Tall as she was, he was nearly a head taller.

  ‘Ten-thirty suit you, Nurse Howard?’ What Mallinson said went where I was concerned, so I said yes.

  The hospital clock chimed the half-hour as we left the spinal ward.

  Mallinson said, ‘Nip along and settle Mr Corford now, Nurse. There’ll be a fuss if Night Sister arrives and finds his light still on. All you have to do is take off that calliper and put on a crepe bandage. The bandage is in his room already. Then fix up his cradle and foot-board.’

  Mr Corford was sitting on the side of his bed, his bad leg rested on a chair. ‘Ready, Nurse? Right!’

  He swung his body round as I lifted his calliper by the heel and laid his leg on the bed. ‘How’s that?’ I asked.

  ‘Fine, thanks.’ He undid the leather straps round his knee, and I started on those across his ankle.

  ‘How did you come to get your femur full of lead? Nurse Mallinson told me it was an old wound. I was wondering how it happened?’ The small dressing on his leg had slipped and would need redoing. I pulled my mask from my pocket and tied it over my face as I spoke.