Hospital Circles

by Lucilla Andrews

  She said, ‘According to Tom Lofthouse, you didn’t lose your nerve or your head when you ran into a real accident.’

  ‘That was in hot blood. Baby, did I shake afterwards!’

  ‘Who wouldn’t?’ She eyed me speculatively. ‘Is it true Old Red just happened to pass by that morning?’

  ‘Yep.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Quite a coincidence?’

  ‘They happen sometimes.’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’ She looked as if she had heard a lot more, but was too tactful to say so. I cursed Tom Lofthouse. Several other Cas girls had now started casting me speculative glances, but so far no-one had made any cracks to me, which was a relief. I was not sure whether I owed that to Gwenellen, the universal awe of Old Red, or Aline’s being away. I suspected a bit of all three.

  Charlie had not yet been found a ward partner and was still working in the Hall. When he heard about Daisy’s move he was now sufficiently informed about Casualty to welcome me as a fellow-member of his L.M.F. club. ‘Like we lack moral fibre, man! Yellow, that’s us!’

  Luis was helping us clean the Plaster Room after a long session of plastering. ‘You call Nurse Dungarvan a man, Charlie? Aie, you English! In Spain for a man to call a pretty girl a man would be great rudeness.’

  ‘Luis,’ I said, ‘even in England, if a man called me that, I’d take it as great rudeness. But not from young Charlie!’ I ducked as Charlie threw a wet sponge my way. It hit the wall. I picked it up and chucked it back. It caught Charlie’s left ear.

  ‘Nurse Dungarvan!’ Sister was watching from the doorway. ‘May I remind you you are on watch? If I ever catch you indulging in horse-play again I shall refuse to have you in my department. Go and attend to Mrs Scutt! Mr Peters, I want you to escort a patient to X-ray! Luis, it’s high time you were off watch! Cast off! Nurse Dungarvan must finish this clearing alone, later!’

  Mrs Scutt was one of our regulars. She was a large, cheerful lady with bad varicose ulcers which she was constantly banging against the furniture in her house on non-Varicose Vein Clinic days. Her house lay just across the road from the hospital. That day was not a V.V.C. day in Out Patients and, in any event, as it was after six o’clock, Out Patients had closed.

  Mrs Scutt loved to talk. In her loud, squeaky voice she described at length the particular occasional table that had caused her present damage; she described her husband’s hernia; her mother’s left kidney; her daughter’s twins. Charlie came in as she was in the middle of her obstetrical details, and, though now fairly accustomed to the patients, he was slightly taken aback. ‘Sister’s at early supper, and Nurse Robins thought you might like some help, Nurse Dungarvan. But would you rather I came back?’

  Mrs Scutt, being an old hospital bird, had no difficulty in translating Robins’ euphemistic message, or in placing Charlie, though she had not met him before. ‘Lord bless you, duck, you don’t want to go! Learning you to be a new young doctor, are they then?’ She waved a huge and kindly hand. ‘You park your backside in that chair along of old Mother Scutt and watch how my little nurse finishes me leg real lovely. Now, like I was saying, duck,’ she continued to me, ‘they didn’t spot as she was carrying the two until the first come on. Mark you, I said as she was too big, but they said as it could just be the water, as they couldn’t hear no more than the one heart. But they was lying one on top the other, duck ‒ and the little lad was beneath and upside down. His sister’s afterbirth was in the road ‒ and the time they had getting it away!’ Her voice rose even higher. ‘And then the little lad started to push his way out backside first. All black and blue his poor little behind was ‒ and as for my poor Linda’s privates!’ She turned to Charlie. ‘A month back this was, dude, but she’s not been right downstairs since.’

  Charlie was sitting on the edge of a dressing-chair, and his eyes above his mask were as wide as Gwenellen’s at their widest. He said in a grave tone that would have done credit to the S.M.O., ‘So she is still having to stay in her bedroom? How inconvenient!’

  Mrs Scutt bellowed with laughter, slapped him hard on the back, and explained herself so plainly that Charlie went purple behind his mask. I kept my eyes on the dressing as Mrs Scutt produced photos. ‘Lovely pair of kiddies, aren’t they? Andrew and Anne. And isn’t their old Nan real made up with them, Doctor?’ She gave Charlie another slap. ‘Take a good look!’

  That slap knocked him off his chair. He grabbed at one leg of the dressing-trolley to steady himself, forgetting his own weight and that the trolley was on wheels. The combination sent the trolley rolling across the room behind him. It hit the wall, and the enamel tray on the top shelf set with stainless-steel dressing dishes and bowls, slid off. Tray and contents clattered to the floor. The noise was shattering.

  ‘Oh, God! Terribly sorry!’ Charlie dived for the dishes. ‘Will you have to start all over again?’

  Mrs Scutt stopped squeaking ‘Save the pieces, duck!’ to assure him her dressing was on real lovely, and all she now needed was her elastic bandage.

  ‘Perhaps you can put that on, dresser?’ suggested Old Red’s voice. He had come in and was leaning against the closed door, surveying the chaos with an expressionless face. ‘A word, please, Nurse.’

  Charlie’s mask had slipped down. I kicked his ankle as he opened his mouth. I said, ‘Yes, Mr Leland,’ and hurried out of the door he was now holding open. Before he closed it we heard Mrs Scutt’s irate, ‘He’s never going to tell her off, is he?’

  As it was perfectly obvious what Old Red wanted to say to me, I did not wait. ‘I’m very sorry about that crash, Mr Leland. I’m afraid there was a little accident.’

  He had moved a yard or so from the door. He said drily, ‘That’s a weight off my mind. It sounded as if someone had suddenly gone berserk. I came in expecting to have to make speedy contact with the Relieving Officer.’

  ‘With whom, Mr Leland?’

  ‘The gentleman to whom we turn when one of our patients, or staff, turns into an acute manic. And if I don’t have quiet now you’ll probably have to get him for me. I’ve just wasted ten minutes trying to listen to a man’s chest. I suspect he has a diaphragmatic hernia. I’d like a chance to confirm my suspicions. As I’m in the room next door to your present patient, you’ll appreciate my difficulty.’

  ‘Some difficulty, Mr Leland?’ Sister had come back and was beside me, looking very fierce. ‘May I help?’

  ‘Well, thanks, Sister, I’d be grateful.’ He ignored me to smile at her. ‘As I have just been telling your nurse, I’m having trouble listening to a chest. Either my stethoscope has a fault or I’m going deaf. May I borrow your stock stethoscope?’

  ‘My dear man, of course! Fetch it from my desk, Nurse Dungarvan!’

  When I returned to Mrs Scutt she was still indignant. ‘It’s that red hair, duck! Always the sign of a proper Tartar!’

  Charlie still looked upset, but Sister removed him before I could take him aside and soothe him. ‘Get this room shipshape! Get a mop to that mess on the deck! Isn’t that a pair of Spencer Wells under the radiator?’ She retrieved the instrument herself. ‘Good God, gal! Are you incapable of doing even a simple dressing efficiently? You are well into your third year! Surely you have learnt by now that care of equipment comes second only to care of the patients!’ I had learnt that. I had also learnt not to waste energy making excuses, and to recognize the signs and symptoms of a sister suffering from an attack of acute haema-dementia. Sister Cas was not often bloody-minded, and this was the first time she had been so with me. I hoped it was just a passing phase, sparked off by her catching me fooling around in the Plaster Room, and thanked my guardian angel for the way Old Red had just covered up for me. Had he not, by now I could be en route for Matron’s Office. Sister Cas was not a woman to make idle threats. God bless Old Red, I thought. One of these fine days, when he’s my uncle, I would thank him for this.

  Shortly after, Sister sent me to chaperon the patient in Room Two. ‘Miss Flora Mackenzie. I trust you are
capable of chaperoning, professionally!’ Chaperoning was so easy, it was the job reserved for the most junior nurses.

  Miss Flora Mackenzie was very old, very thin, very small, and very militant. She lived alone and had fallen off a ladder in her sitting-room. She had displaced backwards the lower end of her right radius and sustained a few other minor bumps and bruises, but was otherwise intact. She was more angry than shocked, particularly when Old Red suggested it was not wholly wise for ladies not in their first youth to climb ladders. ‘Then I would like it fine for you to advise me how I am to repaint my ceilings, Doctor! I cannot do a good job from a chair on a table! I have tried, but I am too wee to reach. I have not your inches, laddie, but I will not tolerate a dirty ceiling!’

  ‘Forgive me, Miss Mackenzie,’ he apologized, ‘but you are eighty-eight.’

  ‘And I hope I may be spared to repaint my own house when I am ninety-eight, Doctor!’

  He smiled at her as he smiled at Margaret. ‘I’m not a betting man, Miss Mackenzie, but if I were I’d put my shirt on your being able to do just that. However, I still have to say I do not approve of your climbing ladders.’

  ‘Aye. You’ve your job to do as you see fit.’ She eyed him sternly. ‘What now? I’d best warn you, I’m not staying in this hospital. I’ve my work waiting at home.’

  He knew she lived alone, and wasted no breath reminding her there was no-one there to look after her. ‘I’d like to set your wrist and put on a small plaster, which will take a little time to dry. There’s no question of anyone trying to keep you in St Benedict’s against your will, but if you would consent to remain with us, say, overnight, I’d be very grateful. It would give me a chance to see your wrist plaster has dried correctly and give our students a rare opportunity to see how fit and active a lady of your age can be.’

  ‘I’ve kept my health. The Lord has been good to me.’ Her old eyes appraised him. ‘So you want me in just for the plaster and to give your student laddies additional geriatric experience? And not because you’ve a foolish wee fancy in your mind that I require cosseting?’

  He hedged. ‘I’d like you to stay.’

  ‘Aye. No doubt, since you fear I’ll maybe return to my painting before my plaster’s dry.’

  ‘I don’t fear that, Miss Mackenzie; I’m convinced you’ll be back up that ladder before the ambulance has had time to drive away.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Suddenly she smiled. ‘Aye, that’s what I’d do. You’re a good judge of character, laddie, and as I’m not so bad at that myself, I’ll bide by what you say if you’ll answer me this; what’s your true reason?’

  ‘I think you are more shocked than you realize and, for a day or two, need us to look after you.’

  She looked up at him in silence, then nodded. ‘Maybe you’re right, laddie. I’m not as young as I was. I’ll bide a wee while in your hospital, but there’s to be no cosseting, you’ll understand!’

  He signed her admission form. I took it to Sister. She raised her eyebrows. ‘I never thought we’d be able to keep her. Go up with her to Bertha Ward, gal.’

  On my return Staff Nurse Robins was after my blood. ‘Dungarvan, you were supposed to have cleared the Plaster Room! It’s still in chaos!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Nurse Robins; I had to leave it. I’ll finish it now.’

  ‘Not now you can’t! There are two splinters waiting to be removed and one cut thumb soaking in the Women’s Dressing Room. There are two dressers in there, but as one of the splinters is in the thigh, you’ll have to get it out. Then do the Plaster Room.’

  Charlie was one of the two dressers. Three other women with minor injuries came in before the room could be cleared. Robins called away the other dresser to help the S.C.O. Charlie and I cleared up together.

  He was still upset about Mrs Scutt’s trolley. ‘I wish you’d let me explain to Old Red. Was he foul? … Oh, Christ!’ He had now knocked over a bottle of gentian violet. The sink he had just cleaned was stained badly. ‘I’ll never get this muck off.’

  ‘Meth’ll shift it, stat.’ I handed him the room’s stock bottle of methylated spirit. ‘Don’t work yourself into an acute anxiety state. Just pour on and watch. And don’t worry about this afternoon either. Old Red wasn’t foul.’ I stacked a large bowl-sterilizer, then turned on the water. ‘On the contrary, he was sweet ‒ careful!’ I lunged for the meth bottle and caught it before it hit the floor. ‘Honest to God, Charlie, you need to do something about your reactions!’

  ‘Sorry, Jo. But was he really sweet? Old Red? But everyone says he’s an absolute swine to nurses.’

  ‘Everyone says ‒ a right load of old codswallop.’ I replaced the bottle on the shelf, closed the lid of my sterilizer, and switched on the heat. ‘These things’ll need twenty minutes as it’s the end of the day. What time is it now?’ I hitched out Little Ben. ‘It can’t be ten? Hell! Robins is on until midnight with me, but Sister’s off at ten, and if I don’t get the Plaster Room straight before she does her final round she’ll kill me. Will you keep an eye on this sterilizer and turn it off if I forget it?’

  ‘Sure, but can’t I help you in the Plaster Room?’

  I did not want to hurt his feelings by saying I would manage far quicker alone, so I used an equally true reason for refusing his offer.

  ‘As the other dressers have vanished, you’d better stay up this end and make yourself very visible. If not, in Sister’s present mood, she’ll probably send out a landing party of the Royal Marines to round you boys up. You show her there’s one sterling lad on watch!’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir!’

  The Plaster Room lay beyond the A.R.R.U. It was quiet in there. I hung up the plastic sheet I had left soaking, rolled away those that had dried, scrubbed dried plaster from the table with the special remover, and wondered wearily how much longer it would be before the scent of wet plaster stopped reminding me of Marcus. I could now forget Bill for hours, even days, then one sniff of wet plaster and I went straight back to Marcus Small Ward Two.

  ‘Excuse me, Nurse ‒ oh, it’s you!’ Old Red had come in. ‘Have you seen a watch lying around? I’ve left mine somewhere; I thought in Cas. I’ve just asked Sister. It hasn’t yet been handed in. As I put on a plaster in here an hour ago, I wondered if I’d left it on that shelf above the sink. No.’ He looked underneath. ‘Hasn’t slipped down either.’ I searched with him and in vain.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Leland. Have you another?’

  ‘In my room. I’ll have to go up.’ He turned round as the door opened again. ‘Wanting me, Peters?’

  ‘Er ‒ no, sir.’ Charlie looked startled. He turned to me. ‘It’s that sterilizer you asked me to watch, Nurse Dungarvan. It seems to need some attention.’

  ‘Sounds ominous.’ Old Red smiled faintly. ‘Perhaps you should see to it before it blows us all up, Nurse.’ He held open the door for me. ‘Thanks for searching.’

  Charlie cantered after me as I hurried back to the Dressing Room. The sterilizer was bubbling quietly. ‘There’s nothing wrong with this thing, Charlie!’

  ‘I know that! But I couldn’t think of any other excuse to get you away when I bust in and found Old Red chatting you up! Sorry if I put my big foot in it, but what else could I say? This chap with the leg or something who wants to see you said something about being or having been a patient, but not being here as one now, and as he’s loaded with flowers for you and I didn’t know how Old Red would take it, I used the sterilizer.’

  I stared. ‘Charlie, what are you talking about? Who wants to see me?’

  ‘This chap with the limp. He’s got some flowers for you and was asking the porters, and I told him you worked here and I’d get you. As Sister and Nurse Robins are swigging coffee with that drag Jones, I took him down the short cut through Eyes and shoved him into 15. I’ve closed the door. Only the porters saw him come in, and they won’t talk! His name’s Francis, and he says you nursed ‒’ His voice stopped abruptly. ‘Come to investigate the sterilizer, sir?’ he asked of Old Red in a surpr
ised squeak that was nearly as high as Mrs Scutt’s.

  ‘No. As I heard no explosion, I presumed the danger had been averted. I just looked in to say I’ve found my watch, Nurse Dungarvan.’

  ‘Good.’ I was too shaken to ask where. ‘Shall I tell Sister, Mr Leland?’

  ‘Don’t bother. I’ll be seeing her.’ He walked off.

  Charlie and I looked at each other. Charlie asked, ‘Think he heard about your chap with the floral tribute?’ I shrugged. ‘Jo, I’m sorry. I always seem to be landing you in it.’

  ‘It’s not your fault if my old boyfriends choose to drop in at the wrong moments.’ He was groaning. ‘What now?’

  ‘I’ve really done it this time, haven’t I?’

  ‘Relax!’ I was trying to think fast and barely heard what he said. ‘I’ve got to get rid of this man before Sister or Robins finds him here. If not ‒’ I slid a thumbnail across my throat.

  ‘They surely won’t do you for this? How could you help it if some chap drops in with flowers?’

  ‘Charlie, grow up! When something like this happens everyone always blames the girl!’

  ‘Then how about Old Red? If he heard, won’t he tell Sister?’

  ‘Not him!’ I was too concerned for caution. ‘Jackie Jones mightn’t hesitate to run to Sister about something he only overheard by chance. Old Red is no smooth-talking, trouble-making sod. And anyway, he and I are sort of mates. If he did hear I’ll bet he’ll have another attack of deafness and maybe a touch of amnesia as well.’ Then I realized what I was saying. ‘Charlie, this is just between you and me. Promise?’

  ‘Sure.’ He grinned. ‘I say, Jo! You’re quite a bird, even if you do like ’em long in the tooth!’

  That crack penetrated, but I had wasted too much time to deal with it. ‘I know! I’ll get rid of my man, and you stay up here and create a diversion if anyone appears before I’m in the clear. Break something. Faint. Anything.’

  ‘Trust me, Jo.’