Front Line Nurse

by Rosie James

  Humming a little tune, she went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, thinking of the two girls who’d called in to the orphanage earlier. It was lovely to see them both settled and happy with life, and Emma Kingston had looked as proud as punch to hear all their news.

  And why shouldn’t she be proud? She had always been as good as any blood mother to ‘her’ children, so any success and happiness of theirs was hers as well.

  Chapter 8

  December 1915

  ‘Nurse Green! At once here, please!’

  The senior nurse’s imperious voice rang through the long ward, and Angelina immediately stopped folding the corners of the bed sheet she was dealing with and moved swiftly to do as she was told.

  ‘This patient is due for his bed bath,’ the senior nurse said, ‘and after that please renew the dressings on his wound.’

  It was the end of Angelina’s second week on the men’s medical ward, and even if after every shift she sometimes felt ready to fall sleep on her feet, she realised just how much she’d learned in that short time. Now, after drawing the curtains around the patient’s bed, she smiled down at him.

  ‘How are you feeling this morning?’ she asked gently. She had glanced at the notes in the folder at the foot of the bed and they had stated that, among other things, the condition of 17-year-old Ralph Thomas was ‘As well as might be expected’. That didn’t sound very optimistic to Angelina.

  ‘Oh, I’m all right Miss, thanks,’ he said, his voice faint. ‘Much better than I was this time last week, that’s a fact. And it’s lovely and peaceful here – quiet, not like over there.’

  Angelina nodded. Young soldiers were coming in regularly now, but this was the first time she had seen one of them, and she had to admit that she was glad she hadn’t been sent to the surgical ward just yet. Bathing and bandaging and general care had been her experience so far, and she was managing to satisfy her superiors that she was more than capable. But she had never seen a limb hanging off, or a scull so badly maimed that you could actually see the brain, and even though she still felt full of enthusiasm, she realised that she had a very long way to go, much to learn, hoping she didn’t faint at the sight of the terrible injuries which Norma had told her about when they were together in the small bedroom they shared. Norma was older than Angelina, and had started her training at the beginning of the year. She was already waiting to be summoned to one of the theatres to assist the surgeons as they tried to put poor young men back together again.

  Angelina glanced at her patient. ‘Well, it’s lovely that you are back in time for Christmas, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘See – we’ve put up all the decorations just for you.’

  He tried to smile but didn’t reply. After fetching everything she needed, Angelina slipped off his hospital gown, placed protective sheeting beneath him, and very carefully removed the dressing from the large wound across his stomach, almost stepping back at the sight. The stitches were not holding, and the wound was beginning to gape and was oozing with pus.

  Very, very gently, she began to wash him all over with soap and strong antiseptic.

  Coughing painfully, he said, ‘You look too young to be a nurse, Miss. I mean, to be doing things … things like this.’

  She smiled down at him. ‘Oh, I’m older than you think, and I do things like this all the time,’ she said, realising that he was embarrassed. ‘You just close your eyes and relax. Do you have a family?’

  ‘My mother is still alive,’ he said slowly. ‘She’s in South Wales where our home is.’ He paused. ‘I don’t know if she’s been told I’ve been sent home. Perhaps they won’t bother because I’m sure I’ll be going back when I’m better – it’s crazy over there and men are dying like flies. They need every single one of us.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure your mother knows you are safe now,’ Angelina said, picking up a towel and starting to smooth him dry, taking immense care around the enflamed wound. As she felt him tense under the pain, she murmured, ‘Sorry, nearly done, then I’ll put another dressing on this and you will feel much more comfortable.’

  ‘I am so grateful Miss,’ he said, half-closing his eyes. ‘You have such a gentle, kind touch, I think you were born to be a nurse.’

  ‘I think I was,’ Angelina said softly. ‘Now, you have a little nap. They will be bringing warm drinks around shortly, and I will come and check up on you later.’

  Returning to the senior nurse who was sitting at her desk at the end of the ward, Angelina said, ‘I have completed that – and the patient is fairly comfortable. But I’m afraid the wound is still open and the inflammation seems to be spreading.’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’’ the senior nurse replied shortly. ‘We will keep a close watch.’ She returned her gaze to the notes in front of her. ‘Now please take the temperature of the patient in bed one – it was rather high earlier, and you may need to fetch another cooling fan for him. But …’ She paused. ‘Thank you, Nurse Green, you are doing very well.’

  Angelina was so surprised at that unexpected compliment – from a woman who seldom uttered one to any of the nurses – that she departed without replying.

  The day went as every day at the hospital went. Apart from two or three lectures each week and tests being set, it was routine, routine, routine. Bed pans being constantly requested, frequent shouts and calls from patients with delirium, and nurses scurrying after consultants who arrived on the ward without notice. When Angelina finished her twelve-hour shift at 6 p.m., having had only one short break, she admitted that she felt ready to drop. She hadn’t really expected to feel this tired because fatigue was unknown to her. Perhaps, heaven forbid, she would be one of those who didn’t stay the course, as the almoner had said happened to some.

  Downstairs in the staff quarters she went into her room, shutting the door behind her. Then she dragged off her cap and apron and released her belt before very thankfully slipping out of her long, serge grey skirt – which felt cloying around her ankles. Then she flopped down on the bed, remembering how pleased she’d felt the first day she’d been given her uniform. She had looked at herself in the mirror with a sense of real pride, because now everyone could see that she, Angelina Green, was a real nurse.

  She stared up at the ceiling defiantly. She would never give up, never! If necessary, she would die on the job!

  She lay there for a few minutes, her mind still too active to doze. She wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, and had only had a boiled egg and some cheese for lunch, but she’d go into the canteen in a minute for something to eat. Norma wasn’t off duty until ten o’clock, so they weren’t likely to see much of each other until tomorrow.

  Turning her head, Angelina looked up at the coloured baubles they’d hung up, the tinsel hanging over the mirror and the door frame. Christmas decorations seemed so out of place, she thought, with that terrible war going on and young men injured and dying. Yet every ward was adorned, there were balloons everywhere, and a brightly lit Christmas tree stood guard just inside the entrance of the hospital.

  Angelina’s thoughts turned to her soldier … poor Ralph Thomas. Just 17, no more than a lad. He wouldn’t have known that his was the first adult male body which Angelina had been asked to deal with, to touch. Of course, in the orphanage she’d seen many little boys without their clothes on, and from her study books she had seen detailed pictures of fully developed male genitals, but actually coming face to face with it in all its pathetic, human vulnerability, had been something of a shock. Angelina screwed her eyes tight for a second.

  And thought of Alexander.

  Christmas Eve 1915

  It was 10.30 a.m. – four hours into her day shift. Angelina, well wrapped up in an ungainly green apron about two sizes too big for her, and with a tight net covering her hair, was on her knees scrubbing the steel frame and legs of the bed which had held her young soldier. He had died in the night, his infected wound not responding to any medication available. He had eventually succumbed to pneumonia and now everything h
ad to be cleaned and cleaned until not a scrap of evidence that he had been there remained. Nothing of young Ralph Thomas must be passed on.

  Angelina had looked after Ralph Thomas from South Wales during his three-week stay at St Thomas’s, and felt she had come to know him. She certainly liked him. He had worked on a farm, and he’d told Angelina that he was determined to own his own, one day. He’d been working with crops and animals since the age of 10, and there wasn’t much he didn’t know about either. He and his pal from a neighbouring farm had volunteered together to serve their country. ‘It was the right thing to do,’ he’d told Angelina.

  Tears filled her eyes as she thought of his innocent loyalty, and she knelt back to reach for her handkerchief. Anyway, he would be in heaven now, safe, out of that horrible pain and discomfort, and hopefully surrounded by all of God’s creatures that he loved so much. So she must not dwell on this, she told herself fiercely. They had all been warned about getting too close, of feeling deeply about any of their patients, because if they did they would not be able to do the job properly. Nurses were not allowed to feel, only to work in the patient’s best interests.

  Dipping her scrubbing brush and cloth once more into the bucket of hot disinfectant, Angelina cleaned the last rung of the bed, wiped it all dry with a clean towel, and sat back. She’d gone over everything twice, and was satisfied that the next occupant would come to no harm.

  It had taken her more than an hour to finish the job, and now she got up from her knees and picked up the bucket, aware that there were some people nearby, talking quietly.

  A wave of horror swept over her as she recognised the group of visitors.

  Randolph and Alexander Garfield stood there, talking to the senior nurse. Honora Mason, dressed in a beautiful red winter woollen coat and small brimmed hat, was there too, looking so pretty and demure, her tiny diamond earrings adding their lustre to her perfect appearance.

  If only the floor could open up and swallow her, Angelina thought desperately. What must she look like, dressed like this instead of in her immaculate uniform, and looking hot and bothered and red in the face!

  It was not visiting time yet, but sometimes special people were admitted out of hours, and she knew that Garfield Tobacco was a very generous patron of the hospital. So that was probably why they were here.

  As she tried to sidle past the group, Alexander spoke.

  ‘Hello, Angelina,’ he said quietly, smiling down at her. ‘I was hoping we might see you … Miss Kingston tells us about all of you, you know.’

  ‘Good morning Mr Alexander,’ Angelina said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as strange to him as it did to her.

  The senior nurse spoke up. ‘Nurse Green has been standing in for one of the cleaners this morning,’ she said. ‘We are a bit short-staffed because of the holiday.’

  ‘And when do you have your holiday, Angelina?’ Alexander asked. ‘I hope you’re not working all over Christmas!’

  ‘No, I am on duty today and tomorrow, but I have Boxing Day off,’ Angelina said, darting a glance at her superior. This was a very unusual situation, and she wished she was somewhere else – anywhere else.

  ‘When you are cleaned up,’ the senior nurse said, obviously slightly irritated at the interruption to her tour of the wards, ‘please resume your normal duties here. We are expecting a new admission at two o’clock.’

  Honora suddenly spoke up. ‘I didn’t realise that nurses had to clean the wards as well as look after patients,’ she said quietly. ‘You must work a very long and tiring day, Angelina.’

  Angelina was surprised at the kindness of Honora Mason’s tone. She had seen her several times over the years when she’d visited the orphanage with Mr Garfield and Mr Alexander, and had always thought her rather snooty and off-hand. But today she seemed genuinely interested in what Angelina was doing.

  ‘Oh, I have only been on cleaning duty once or twice so far,’ Angelina said, ‘but I never mind doing it. I understood from the very beginning that nurses must be prepared to do anything required of them, whatever the circumstances.’

  Honora nodded slowly. ‘Well, thank goodness we have nurses,’ she said. ‘Who knows when any of us may need you?’

  ‘Shall we continue your visit?’ the senior nurse said, addressing Randolph. ‘I believe you wish to inspect all the wards on this floor. Please follow me.’

  And standing there still clutching her bucket, Angelina watched them go. As she watched, Alexander, at the end of the group, half-turned to glance back and wink at her.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Angelina,’ he mouthed silently.

  Chapter 9

  Boxing Day 1915

  ‘It’s so lovely to be back in my own bed,’ Angelina said, glancing over at Ruby who was only just stirring. ‘Sorry if I’ve disturbed you, Ruby – but I’m always up at this time, so my body has got used to it. I was hoping to have a lie in, but no luck. My mind thinks I’m still in uniform!’

  It was still not quite six o’clock, and Ruby yawned. ‘Never mind, we’ll have a longer day to talk,’ she said. ‘I want to hear all about what you do up there, Angelina. All the gory details!’

  ‘And I want to hear what sort of Christmas you’ve been having so far,’ Angelina said, smiling. ‘From what you’ve told me, you’ve hardly had a minute to yourself!’

  Ruby sat up, hugging her knees. ‘I’ve been thoroughly spoiled,’ she said, ‘because on Christmas Eve I was invited upstairs to see all the little presents they had for Nesta, and they insisted I stay there with them until quite late. Mr Carter poured us all a glass of sherry, and then we had ham rolls and mince pies.’ Ruby yawned again. ‘It was so kind of them and they made me feel like one of the family.’

  ‘Did they like the presents we bought for them?’ Angelina asked. Ruby nodded.

  ‘They loved them, and there’s one for each of us from them under the tree – I haven’t opened mine because I thought we’d do that together today, after we’ve had our Boxing Day lunch.’

  Angelina looked around at their little room which looked so pretty with all the decorations Ruby had bought, and with a small pile of presents tucked under the small Christmas tree with its trailing fairy lights.

  ‘Well, considering that this is our first Christmas by ourselves, Ruby, I think you’ve done really well,’ Angelina said. ‘I wish I could have been around more to help you, but you’ve thought of everything.’

  And it was true. Ruby had bought a small chicken for their lunch, which she’d already stuffed, the vegetables were prepared, and there were chestnuts to roast in the fire. It amazed Angelina how Ruby had come out of herself and grown up so quickly. She was so happy at work, too. It was something of a miracle, as if life in the outside world had been waiting there for Ruby Lane and she had met it head-on.

  Ruby smiled happily. She had loved being in charge of things. ‘And what is Christmas like at St Thomas’s?’

  ‘Oh – Christmassy,’ Angelina replied. ‘Well, as nice as possible, and we did have turkey for our dinner but it’s very busy and we didn’t have a long break. So I’ve been looking forward to today. But I want to hear all about you. What was Christmas Day with the Walkers like? Did it feel strange having Christmas dinner with them?’

  When Ruby had told Angelina that she’d been invited there, Angelina had been doubtful. Although Ruby was not nearly as shy as she used to be, she could be anxious and unsure of herself at times, and sitting down to eat with her employers might have felt awkward.

  ‘No, it was lovely,’ Ruby said, rubbing her eyes. ‘They treated me as if I was a special guest. Mr Walker even pulled out my chair for me to sit down! And Robert, their son, was there too and he is really nice. He asked me everything about myself, and I told him about you, and he told me about his college and the friends he’s made. He hopes to be an engineer, and I said I thought that sounded very clever and he laughed and said he would never be as clever as his parents.’

  Angelina smiled. She needn’t have worried about
her little friend after all, because it was obvious that in the right company Ruby would always shine and be her sweet self.

  ‘And did you have turkey with scrumptious gravy at their place?’ Angelina enquired.

  ‘Yes! And I had two helpings of everything!’ Ruby said. ‘Well, I didn’t take much at first because I didn’t want to look greedy, but Mrs Walker insisted I had more because she said I could do with some more weight on me, and Mr Walker said he thought I was just right as I was!’

  ‘Now you’re beginning to make me feel hungry, Ruby,’ Angelina said, ‘so I suppose we ought to start cooking the chicken – after we’ve had some breakfast!’

  In her pyjamas, Ruby clambered out of bed and went across to the window. It was still pitch black outside, and she shivered.

  ‘You stay there for a bit longer, Angelina,’ she said, ‘and I’ll get the fire going. Then I’ll put the oven on – we’ve got it to ourselves, because the Carters are out all day visiting friends.’

  *

  Later in the afternoon, after they’d had their dinner and opened their presents, Angelina and Ruby decided that now was the only time when they could go to the orphanage with their gifts for Miss Kingston, and chocolates for any members of the staff who were on duty.

  It was cold and pouring with rain, so protected by their hooded mackintoshes, and clutching their bag of presents, the two girls started on their journey. It only took about forty minutes, but the miserable weather slowed them down as they sloshed through the puddles.