A Hospital Summer Read online

  ‘Mary.’ I sat down on her desk. ‘I’m not Agatha. I don’t have to hold the young men off. Apart from the daft Australians, no man’s made a proper or improper proposal to me since I’ve been in the camp. And don’t mind me reminding you that we’re surrounded by soldiers and not ravening wolves.’

  ‘Well, dear,’ she replied placidly, ‘I know you’ve been lucky so far, but some people do say those two words are synonymous.’‘

  I smiled faintly. ‘Perhaps it’s just as well I lack sex-appeal. Not one wolf have I ever met here! No one’s ever made an improper pass, much less forced me to run screaming from a fate worse than death. It seems I’m just not the type.’

  She thought this over. ‘Certainly David always said there was only one real weapon for a girl among men, and that is genuine innocence. He used to be very scathing about young women who allowed themselves to get taken for moonlight walks in the wood, and then got peeved by the consequences. I’m beginning to believe he’s right. All the same, watch your step, Clare. As I’ve already said, you kids are all growing up much too quickly.’

  When I returned to our Mess for lunch Miss Moreby-Aspin sent for me. ‘Dillon, m’dear, I’ve got news for you. You’re to come off day duty in the A.S. Block at twelve to-morrow and go on night duty. Pack your kit to-day and shift it down to the night house to-morrow afternoon.’

  I asked if she knew where I was going to work on night duty. When she told me I could hardly wait to leave her and ring up Mary. I did this before lunch. ‘Relax, my love. No more cause for anxiety from Aunty Mary. I’m leaving the wolves for the lambs to-morrow. I’m on nights in Families from then on.’

  She said softly, ‘Don’t they have M.O.s in Families, dear?’

  I laughed. ‘Have a heart, Mary! Only that horrid little Peters and old Major Scott. Major Scott’s a sweetie, but he must be at least forty-five. He’s got grey hair. And he’s married with five kids.’

  ‘Being married doesn’t automatically remove a man from the list of wolves, dear. In fact, they often make the best.’ Then she also laughed. ‘I’ll relax. I know I don’t have to worry about Martin Scott, and I know what you think of the boy Peters! I’m really quite relieved to have you buried among the women and children. I’ve not been at all happy at the thought of you in the main blocks, without Joe or myself to keep a weather eye on you. Let me know how you get on, and give my love to Joe when you write.’

  ‘I don’t know his address yet. I can’t write until he does ‒ if he does.’

  ‘He will. Remember I said he was a good man? Am I not being proved right? Always consult the Oracle of the Stables when in doubt, dear. He’ll write dozens of letters ‒ just you wait and see! I’m certain they’ll start arriving to-morrow.’

  The Oracle of the Stables, like Homer, could sometimes nod.

  I had no letter from Joe next day. I was a little upset about this, so well had Mary succeeded in convincing me. However, I had no time to brood on my lack of mail, as I had all my belongings to transport on my bicycle handle-bars to the night V.A.D.s’ home, a house that stood two miles from our day Mess. Kirsty was off from two until five that afternoon. She offered to help me with my moving. ‘I thought we were supposed to be Mobile,’ she said, as she helped me strap one large suitcase on my handlebars, and then held the bicycle steady as I got on. ‘How much more have you got?’

  ‘Two more cases as big as this one, a holdall, a rug, a greatcoat, a tennis-racket’ ‒ I rode round in circles to keep my balance ‒ ‘and my wireless. I’ll take that last, as I don’t want to jolt it.’

  She said perhaps the Mobile part applied only to our persons. ‘How else can they expect us to carry a full indoor and outdoor uniform? Better not let Madam see what you have, though. She raised Cain when I arrived with my trunk. But how otherwise could I have brought my clothes down from Scotland?’

  I said, much as I liked her company, I could never understand why they had sent her so far south. ‘There must be other military hospitals in the north. Look, I can’t keep this up, Kirsty, I’m going to fall off. I don’t mind falling, but my case may split, and then I’ll have to pack all over again. That I could not take. I’ll go ahead, and you catch me up.’

  She joined me with my holdall and rug on her handle-bars, and we cycled half the way together. We had to walk the other half, as it was uphill. The night house stood alone on top of the hill, a little back from the road. We propped our cycles against the wall and walked in at the open front door.

  A large, slatternly woman, who wore heavy pearl earrings, a soiled cotton dress, and dirty pink mules, came out of one of the downstairs rooms. She had a cigarette in her mouth. She shifted it to one corner as she greeted us. ‘Which of you is the new girl, ducks?’

  I said I was. ‘I’ve got some more luggage to fetch. We’ve brought the first batch. Shall we leave it in the hall or take it up somewhere?’

  ‘Might as well take it up to your room, ducks. I’ll show you the way. We’ll have to go quiet, as the other girl is sleeping.’

  She led us to the top of the house. ‘You’re in one of the attics, ducks,’ she whispered, loudly opening the door; ‘not much class about it, but it’s your own.’

  The tiny room had a sloping roof and a dormer window. It was furnished with one iron bedstead and three Army biscuits. Kirsty put down my holdall and looked about distastefully. ‘What do you sit on?’

  ‘The bed, I imagine.’ I walked to the window. ‘At least the view’s good.’

  The caretaker said it didn’t do to be fussy, and she could see I was one of those who was going to make the best of things. ‘I’ll fetch up your sheets and blankets now, ducks, and give you a hand with the bed.’ She padded off in her flapping mules, and we waited until her footsteps died away before venturing to talk.

  Kirsty groaned, ‘Clare, she’s a chip off the old block. She’s going to be as bad as Madam.’

  I sniffed. ‘Worse. Madam is clean. Oh, well. Let’s get on with our removals, Kirsty. I’m supposed to get some sleep to-day.’ When we had eventually brought all my luggage the caretaker, who said her name was Agnes, invited us both to a cup of tea.

  ‘Drop in whenever you want a cup, ducks. I always keep the pot brewing. Your girl friend, too.’ She leered at Kirsty. ‘I bet you girls have a good time up in the hospital with all those men, eh? Nothing to stop you! Wish I was a bit younger. Always fancied doing a bit of nursing, I did. Just my luck to be too old for this war. You young girls have all the fun ‒ that’s what I say!’

  The Military Families Hospital was a small, square, three-storey building standing about fifty yards from the main hospital. It was staffed at night by two Sisters and a V.A.D. Sister Mackenzie, the Senior Sister, was a qualified midwife as well as being an S.R.N.; her colleague, Sister Best, was an S.R.N. only. Miss Mackenzie presided principally over the maternity floor, which occupied the top storey; Miss Best was in charge of the children’s ward, which with the duty-room and rows of essential cupboards occupied the second floor, and the two women’s wards on the ground floor. One of the women’s wards was reserved for sick Sisters, V.A.D.s, and any A.T.S. who were considered too ill for the wing at M.O.Q.

  ‘We never have more than half a dozen A.T.S. or V.A.D.s in,’ explained Miss Best when she showed me round her domain on my first night, ‘you girls are all too healthy. We haven’t many sick women in either, now that they are shifting the families out of the camp. In fact, if it were not for the mums and babes above, Sister Mackenzie and I would spend the night twiddling our thumbs. We still get a lot of mums in, as they can’t be shifted until they’ve had their babies. I reckon we’ll be open for about another three months to deal with all the bookings, and then turn into an extension for the men. This camp may soon be too hot a spot for people to raise families.’

  ‘Are you a midwife, too, Sister?’ I asked, not then being aware of her qualifications.

  She grimaced. ‘I am not. And never will be if I can help it. Now you had better go upstairs
and introduce yourself to Sister Mackenzie before you do the black-out. Sister will give you your instructions for the night. She’s in charge, not I.’

  I thanked her, and went up the three flights of stairs feeling rather cheerful. Miss Best seemed a pleasant person; she was young, plump, and entirely lacking in the forbidding air which some Army Sisters appear to assume as part of their uniform. Miss Mackenzie at first sight was very different from Miss Best.

  She was English, despite her name; she was very tall and very fair, and her hair was pulled tightly back in a neat bun that was hidden beneath her cap, her eyes were large, blue, and cool in expression. She was young, possibly as young as Miss Best, but she was infinitely more dignified. Her manner reminded me a little of Miss Thanet in the Ob. Block. She considered me gravely. ‘Have you done any night duty previously, Miss Dillon?’

  ‘I did a month in the Acute Medical Block, Sister.’

  ‘Good. But you have never worked in Families?’

  ‘No, Sister.’ I noticed the badge of her training school that she wore pinned to her breast, and recognized it as the same as the badge worn by Miss Thanet. She saw my glance. ‘Do you know my hospital?’

  ‘Matthew and Mark’s? I don’t know it, Sister, but my father qualified there. And Miss Thanet, too.’

  ‘You knew Miss Thanet?’ She unbent slightly. ‘She was in my year. Where did you work with her? Ob. Block?’

  ‘Yes, Sister.’

  She smiled. ‘You are that Dillon? Yes, I remember Miss Thanet mentioning you.’ She did not say what Miss Thanet had mentioned. ‘Now, we must go round the midwifery department, and I will show you what I shall want you to do for my mothers.’ She showed me in detail, explaining everything as she went. Then she took me into the nursery, in which the new-born babies lay asleep in cots that were fixed waist-high to the walls, and looked very like sloping pigeon-holes. ‘Put on a mask.’ She handed me one from the glass jar by the door, and tied one on herself. ‘Keep a mask round your neck all night. It saves so much time. You will work in here a good deal helping me with changing, feeding, bathing. Ever bathed a tiny baby?’

  ‘No, Sister.’

  She looked at me calmly. ‘Ever held a tiny baby?’

  ‘No, Sister.’

  She was unmoved. ‘I’ll have to show you. Both are quite simple. How old are you?’

  ‘Twenty, Sister.’

  ‘I see.’ She walked across the nursery and opened a door on the far side. ‘This is the Labour Ward.’ She did not go in, but stood in the open doorway. ‘Now, Miss Dillon, there is something I have to tell you at once. There is an official regulation applying to young V.A.D.s working in Families. As you are unskilled, unmarried, and under age, you must not under any circumstances enter the Labour Ward when I am delivering a mother. That is official. Do you understand me?’

  I felt very grateful to the unknown official who had laid down that order. ‘Yes, Sister.’

  Her large, serious blue eyes did not waver as she went on. ‘There is also something else I must tell you at once. There is only one bell in Families that is ever rung three times; three short rings. That is the Labour Ward bell, and that ring is the Labour Ward SOS. If you ever hear me ring like that drop whatever you are doing and run as fast as you can to me. SOSs have to be answered whatever the regulations may say. A mother’s or a baby’s life may depend upon it. Do you understand that too?’

  I swallowed. ‘Yes, Sister.’

  ‘Good. Now go and do all the black-outs ‒ excluding the Labour Ward, which I will do ‒ then heat the milk for the night drinks. Sister Best will see to her own wards; you must see to my mothers, who will need their milk before they feed their babies.’ She glanced at the window. ‘It looks as if it’s going to be a clear night, so I don’t think we need bother about the P.A.D. routine yet. We’ll go into that later to-night. Oh, by the way ‒ just one more word of warning …’

  ‘Yes, Sister?’ I waited, wondering if she was going to warn me about what not to do when assisting at the birth of a baby.

  ‘Have you any serious views on cockroaches?’

  ‘Cockroaches, Sister?’

  ‘Yes.’ She removed her cape and rolled up her sleeves. ‘Because if you have you had better get rid of them. You’ll simply have to learn to love the wretched insects here. There’s no alternative if you wish to retain your sanity. They come out in all the ground-floor passages at night, and particularly do they love the kitchen. We’ve used every insect powder that’s been invented; the office have sent over squads of men to deal with them; nothing so far has been successful. Our Families cockroaches,’ she said evenly, ‘are extremely tough. The technique in the kitchen is to switch on the light before you go in at night, wait a few seconds, and then some of them do scatter. If they really bother you, providing the black-out’s intact, you may leave the kitchen light burning all night. That does discourage them a little.’

  I went downstairs feeling far more worried about the cockroaches than a summons to the Labour Ward. It took me some time to do all the black-outs as I was new to the building, and when I reached the kitchen it was growing dark. I did not dare switch on the light before blacking out, so I stepped rather gingerly into the room. The floor under my feet crackled as if I were walking on gravel. I reached for the light-switch in sheer panic, forgetting the black-out, and when the light was on, for the first and only time in my life I wanted to scream in horror. The floor was black with the creatures, and the black carpet swayed towards me as if to attack me for the havoc I had caused ‒ there were some dozen black corpses under my feet. I leapt out of the kitchen and stood in the corridor outside, drying my damp palms on my apron skirt. I was sweating with fear; I did not think I should ever be able to go back into that kitchen and do the black-out, or put on the milk. Eventually I went back, not because I had conquered my fear, but because I had to. Once back I discovered that Mackenzie was right; the light did disturb them, and after a while the majority scuttled away into their holes. It took me several nights to get over that initial horror, and eventually, although I never learnt to love them, I grew to accept them, and even respect them. As Mackenzie said, they were so tough, and they seemed to thrive on the more deadly types of insect powder. I used pounds and pounds of powder, and the cockroaches grew fatter and more numerous, if possible.

  On that first night Miss Best came in as I was filling the water urn. ‘Have you made tea, Dillon?’

  ‘Not yet, Sister. That small kettle’s boiling, if you’d like me to make some now?’

  ‘Would you? Thanks.’ She set a tray for her patients. ‘Three of my women are pining for a cup.’

  ‘Doesn’t it keep them awake?’

  ‘They’ve enough on their minds to do that already, poor dears. They’re all soldiers’ wives, some of their husbands are still missing, they’ve got children parked with neighbours to fret over, and on top of that the worry of having to move house as the Army wants their quarters. The tea’ll only soothe them.’ She poured boiling milk into some of her cups. ‘They’re a good lot and don’t grumble, but the War’s miserable for them.’

  ‘Are your women always good patients, Sister?’

  She held the milk saucepan poised and smiled at me through the steam. ‘Have you nursed women, Dillon?’

  ‘No, Sister. Even when I did my fifty hours I was in a men’s ward.’

  She said, ‘Then you’ve got a surprise coming to you. I expect you think men make the best patients?’

  ‘Well ‒ they are awfully good, Sister.’

  ‘I know. And that’s what we all thought ‒ until we nursed women. Men can be very good; women can be even better than that. The person who started the talk about women being the weaker sex had never set foot in a hospital ward. You’ll find out for yourself. You don’t have to take my word for it.’

  My first couple of weeks in Families were free of raids. I was glad about that, as it gave me a chance to learn what I had to do. The work was so very different from any I had done p
reviously, chiefly because it was all nursing. No cleaning was done by the night V.A.D., much to my joy. I liked working with Miss Best ‒ she was gay, good-natured, and she treated me as a companion and not a subordinate. Miss Mackenzie, on the contrary, was aloof and very reserved, but I preferred working with her, as she was an inspired teacher. She taught me more general nursing in my first week than I had learnt in all my previous months in the main hospital. She never gave an order without explaining exactly how she wanted that order to be carried out; she showed me how to change, bath, and feed her babies; she showed me the quickest and easiest way to remove bloodstains from sheets; how to deal with soiled infant napkins; how to think ahead and save my feet; ‘never go anywhere empty-handed, Dillon,’ was one of her maxims; another was that new-born babies require cuddling on occasions. ‘Give him a little love, Dillon, then he’ll settle down. The poor sweetie wants his mum, that’s all.’

  I found myself respecting Mackenzie more than any woman with whom I had yet worked. I told Mary about her on the telephone. ‘She’s quite something, Mary. She never lets her hair down, or drops her standards one inch. She even puts on her cuffs to eat our midnight snack of scrambled eggs. We eat them every night, cooking them over the duty-room fire as we used to cook in the Ob. Block. And she’s only twenty-six! I can’t get over it.’

  Mary said, ‘I’ve always heard that Matthew and Mark’s produced the best results. They’re terribly fussy there, but it must pay off. Incidentally, Agatha’s been accepted. She’s leaving at the end of the month and starting there in the September set.’

  ‘September? That’s ages to go. Why is she having such a long leave?’

  ‘It’s August already, dear. Or have you forgotten?’