The Angels of Lovely Lane

by Nadine Dorries

  ‘If I were you, Tanner, I’d be wishing I could do another twelve weeks in PTS’ were Celia’s parting words as her bedroom door slammed.

  ‘Oh, blimey, Antrobus must be bad,’ said Pammy. ‘We will see each other every day, won’t we, Dana?’ she said, suddenly looking very young and scared. ‘We can let off steam on the way home, can’t we?’

  Dana hugged her friend. ‘We can. We just have to make sure we don’t do it on the ward, that’s all. You’ll be fine. You just show her what you’re made of.’

  ‘We might be on different shifts,’ said Pammy. There was an air of despair about her and it caught in her voice. ‘I may not ever see you. We may hardly ever see each other.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Pammy. Remember, it all starts tomorrow. We become real nurses for the first time. Don’t let anyone spoil that for you.’

  Dana was not about to make the same mistake on her first day on the wards as she had made in the school, and so that night, before bed, she meticulously went through everything a dozen times. Yet, as she lay staring at her uniform hanging on the wardrobe door, her thoughts were not filled with what the following day would hold, but were full of Teddy. She had seen her doctor every day through the classroom window as he walked towards the main entrance of the hospital. He had no idea that she watched him. When she turned off her light at night he filled her thoughts, something she had confided to no one. Now, there was a chance, albeit a slim one, that one day soon she might bump into him on the wards, and she couldn’t wait for that moment to arrive. If she had known that that meeting was but a few hours away, she would probably not have slept at all.

  Chapter twelve

  The following morning the girls walked up to the hospital as usual, but when they reached the main entrance, they parted ways with shouts of good luck and plans to meet in the same place to walk back at the end of the day.

  Dana’s day began in the office, listening to the day’s instructions and patient details, but her first report-taking was rudely interrupted by a phone call from Matron, just as the night staff nurse had finished handing over her report.

  There was no ward sister on ward eight. It was run by two male charge nurses and neither of them was a favourite of Matron. She said, falsely, that their standards were lacking and that their manner towards both patients and nurses was overly familiar.

  ‘She just doesn’t like men!’ the charge nurse exclaimed, after he had almost slammed the phone in the office down following a conversation about the number of old newspapers stacked up in the dayroom, the flower vases which hadn’t been scrubbed properly and the general mess on his office desk. ‘Did she come up here before the day shift began?’ he asked the poor night staff nurse, who really couldn’t have cared less about the papers. It had been a long and hard night. She just wanted to get home to her bed.

  ‘She came in at seven. She has a bee in her bonnet about something today. Of course, it’s the new probationers’ first day on the wards, and she’s been a bit crazy about that, ever since she lost control.’

  Just as the night staff nurse stood to leave, her colleague, who had remained on the ward while the day shift were all in the office taking report, popped her head around the door.

  ‘Charge Nurse, bed three, Mr Townsend, terminal prostate CA with metastases, he’s just gone,’ she said, an expression of sadness on her face. The charge nurse looked up and gave her a reassuring smile.

  ‘That’s OK, queen, you go now. You too, Staff; you have done enough for one night. Your twelve hours is well and truly up.’

  ‘Thanks, Charge,’ said the night staff nurse with a sigh of relief. If the patient had died on her shift, she would have been honour bound to perform the last offices and prepare the patient for the mortuary. ‘Have a good day, all,’ she said as she left the office. ‘And you, love,’ she added to Dana as she passed her. ‘You’ll be fine here. You’re on a lovely ward and working with a nice lot.’ She turned and winked at the charge nurse, who grinned back at her.

  He turned to his day staff nurse. ‘Staff Nurse Rowlands, will you do the honours and take our new Nurse Brogan here with you, and I’ll carry on with the day report. The old fella’s wife said she would be in first thing this morning to give him a shave and I said it would be all right. Sod Matron and her strict visiting hours. It’s my ward. Nurse Brogan may as well dive in at the deep end.’

  Dana had no idea what he meant or what anyone was on about. She hadn’t understood a word the night nurse had said, but she knew her own name and that he was asking the staff nurse to take her somewhere. She followed the older girl obediently out on to the ward. Muted wolf whistles from the patients made the colour rise in her cheeks.

  ‘Take no notice,’ the staff nurse grinned as they walked. ‘This is male surgical. You’ll get a lot of that. Oi, you lot, pack it in,’ she said to no one in particular. Then, ‘Here we are, love,’ making an opening in the drawn pale blue curtains which were fastened around bed three. ‘You wait here, Nurse Brogan. I’ll just nip back to the phone and tell the porter’s lodge to be ready with the trolley for a transfer to Rose Cottage.’

  Dana was so confused, her head hurt. Wherever in God’s name is Rose Cottage? She saw the patient sitting upright against the pillows, and looked at the name above the bed. Mr Townsend.

  ‘Hello, Mr Townsend,’ she said. ‘I’m Nurse Brogan and I’m helping Staff Nurse to look after you this morning.’

  Mr Townsend continued to stare straight ahead and didn’t answer her. Dana looked around and wondered what she should say next.

  ‘Did you have a good night?’ she asked, trying her best to appear confident and professional and to remember what the night nurse had just said about him. She knew there had been something and that by the look on the nurse’s face it wasn’t good. ‘Hello there,’ she said again. Still no reply. ‘Never mind. Are you not feeling very well? You definitely look a bit peaky to me. How long ago did you have your operation, then?’

  At that moment the staff nurse opened the curtains and holding them together at the top, so that the other patients couldn’t see inside, manoeuvred a trolley with a bowl of warm water on top and various towels and sheets on the bottom into place.

  ‘What are you doing, nurse?’ she asked.

  ‘Well,’ said Dana with a very serious face, ‘Sister Ryan said that with every practical procedure we undertake, we must always chat to the patient. She said reassuring the patient was the most important part of a nurse’s job.’

  ‘And she’s right, love, she taught me that too. But I’ll tell you what, if I told her the patient was dead I bet she’d tell me not to bother.’

  Dana gasped and put her hand to her mouth. Mr Townsend was dead. ‘Come here,’ said the staff nurse, lifting the covers from the foot of the bed and taking hold of one of Mr Townsend’s feet. ‘Get his other foot.’

  Dana took hold of the other foot which was now cool to the touch. ‘When I count to three, pull,’ Staff Nurse whispered. ‘One, two, three, pull.’ They both pulled and Mr Townsend slipped down the bed and flopped back against the pillows. Dana didn’t like the look on his face. His head had lolled strangely to the side and his bottom set of false teeth was falling out.

  ‘Now we go to the top of the bed. See this clip? Push it to the side and the bedrest lifts back to a flat position against the headboard.’

  The bedrest clanged against the frame. The pillows collapsed back, and with them Mr Townsend.

  ‘Right, come on. Just copy me. He’ll be as stiff as a board soon and it’s not so easy to get the shroud on once they start to stiffen up.’ Staff Nurse yanked the pillows out from under Mr Townsend, leaving just one under his head.

  ‘There you go, love, I’ll leave you one,’ she whispered to him. ‘You never liked lying flat, did you? He had Ménière’s disease and used to feel a bit dizzy if he was laid flat on his back,’ she explained to Dana. ‘Always be careful with that. Patients with Ménière’s can often pass out when you lie them down. And don’
t worry about talking to a corpse. I talk to them sometimes too, but I don’t really expect an answer.’

  Dana smiled sheepishly. She was desperate to prove she could be a good nurse.

  ‘Right, let’s get started. I’m going to fetch him a shroud, which I forgot, and his notes from the filing cabinet. They will need to accompany him to the mortuary. Never forget to send the notes with the porter on the trolley, if you ever do this on your own. I’ll be about ten minutes. Don’t try and lift him. Those pyjama bottoms are hospital issue and they’ve had it. Use your scissors to cut them down the front from the middle and then just lay them to the side. Remove the jacket and peel the dressings off his wound. There’s a rubbish bag taped to the side of his locker. Put the dirty dressings in there and then use the tape to seal the bag. This is one time you don’t have to worry about cross-contamination. We have to move quickly. The porters will be here in half an hour, rigor mortis is already setting in and I’ve still to collect our day list from the charge nurse. Our operating list begins at ten. Oh, and pop his top set of teeth in. Thanks.’ Nurse Rowlands rushed out through the gap in the curtains and Dana was left alone, with a pair of scissors in her hand, about to cut the pyjama bottoms off a dead patient.

  ‘Oh, God, no,’ she whispered, freezing with fear. ‘What did she say I had to do?’ she said to Mr Townsend. ‘Oh, God in heaven, what am I talking to you for, you poor man? You can’t help me, so ye can’t.’ At that moment a loud noise escaped from Mr Townsend’s mouth. It was too much for Dana’s nerves. She screamed and ran out between the curtains.

  ‘Whoa. What’s up, Nurse Brogan?’ Clutching a set of case notes, Charge Nurse was walking down the ward towards her, with a doctor in a white coat, on his way to see a pre-operative patient.

  ‘Mr Townsend,’ she squeaked, ‘he made a noise.’

  ‘Hang on, doctor, just give me a minute.’ The charge nurse handed the case notes to the doctor, put his arm round Dana’s shoulders and led her back behind the curtains.

  ‘Hello, mate,’ he said to Mr Townsend. ‘Lesson number one from me, Nurse Brogan.’ As he spoke, he placed his fingers on Mr Townsend’s pulse. ‘Try not to run down the ward squealing. It doesn’t exactly instil confidence in the patients. I like them to think that we might just know what we’re doing. Yep, the night nurse, who is fifteen years qualified and has seen more dead bodies than you have hot dinners, was absolutely right. Mr Townsend is very definitely dead.’

  ‘But he just made the loudest, most horrendous noise.’ Dana was on the verge of sobbing. Everything had gone wrong in the space of five minutes. This was not how her first day was meant to be. She had wanted to shine. To be proud. When she had lain in bed the previous evening, she had imagined the charge nurse saying to her, ‘It has been a delight to have you on my ward. You will make a fantastic nurse.’ Instead, she had made herself look like a complete idiot.

  ‘Aye, well, as you can see, you laid him down almost flat, and Mr Townsend often had a bit of wind. All the patients on this ward do, and I can tell you, they are not as shy about holding it in as they are on the ladies’ wards. What you heard was air escaping from his body. Nothing to worry about.’

  Dana felt rinsed with relief, and then overcome with embarrassment. Just then the doctor popped his head round the curtains. To her horror, it was Teddy, and she could tell he was only just holding in his laughter.

  ‘Anything I can do to help?’ he asked with a grin.

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact there is,’ said the charge nurse. ‘I need you to sign a death certificate before you leave the ward.’

  ‘Sure, no problem,’ Teddy replied. ‘Let me do the check now.’ He lifted his stethoscope from around his neck and placed the earpieces in before slipping the other end under Mr Townsend’s pyjama jacket. Dana half expected him to shout, ‘He’s alive.’

  Teddy winked at her. ‘Yep, he’s well and truly gone,’ he said as he removed the stethoscope.

  ‘Are you all right now, Nurse Brogan?’ the charge nurse asked Dana kindly. ‘Only we’ve got a busy day today.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Dana. When the two men had left, she felt her cheeks burn as hot as coal. She felt useless, a hindrance, an idiot, and it was made all the worse by the fact that the doctor who had witnessed her humiliation was Teddy. The man she had spoken to on her first night who had barely left her thoughts since.

  Without warning, the metal runners on the curtains swished back and Dana jumped out of her skin as Teddy popped his head round the curtain again.

  ‘Bloody hell, Nurse Brogan,’ he whispered. ‘You want to do something about those nerves of yours.’

  ‘How can I do something about my nerves when you spring on me like that?’ Dana was mad, but she was finding it very difficult not to grin.

  ‘Tell you what, why don’t I give you a lesson about how not to scream while you’re running down the middle of a ward and scaring the patients half to death, eh? We could discuss it over a drink in the Grapes on Saturday.’

  ‘Get lost,’ said Dana. ‘I’m trying to make an impression here. It’s my first day.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that. Things can only improve. Are you coming to the doctors’ social? It will be a laugh. If I know you are coming, I can work out how I am going to persuade you to dance with me. You see, I have two very clumsy left feet.’

  ‘Did you not hear me?’ Dana hissed at him. It was the second time that morning she felt as though someone was speaking Chinese to her. She knew nothing about a doctors’ social. ‘I have to cut this poor man’s trousers off now, so will you go away.’ She waved the scissors she was holding at him.

  ‘OK, then, I’m off. I’m obviously going to have to turn up the charmometer for you, Nurse Brogan. I can see you are not easily impressed.’

  Dana took a deep breath and forced herself to stop grinning. She was about to perform one of the most solemn and personal duties a nurse could undertake. Regardless of how loved someone was, or how popular, in the moments following death, when the soul fled the body, it was the nurse who had the privilege of being in attendance. To say a prayer, to open the window, to prepare the patient to meet his or her maker. Last offices were never rushed. Curtains were drawn, nurses spoke in whispers and full respect was accorded to the dead whether the deceased had been a lord or a road sweeper. In the final hour, they were equal. Washed with the same soap, dressed in the same shroud, and laid on the same mortuary slab.

  This was no time to melt with shame and Dana recovered quickly, as she moved towards the bed with the scissors. She tentatively lifted the pyjama waistband and moved down to the crotch and began to cut. She was relieved she had managed to work the procedure out for herself. She worked from the crotch down one leg and then back up the other leaving a flap to cover his dignity in the middle. Replacing his top teeth took longer. Taking the denture out of the glass on his bedside locker, she put her fingers in his mouth, then pulled them out again. She tried once more. His jaw was becoming stiff and didn’t yield very easily to her touch. She heaved. Her eyes were watering. She was successful on her third attempt, and managed not to heave again by turning her head to the side as with half-closed eyes she slipped the teeth into place, adjusting the bottom set as she did so. ‘Oh, thank God. I’m sorry,’ she whispered, very quietly. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Townsend. I’ve never done it before. It’s my first day and you are my very first patient. Well, here goes,’ she added as she tentatively removed each of the gauze and lint dressings from his abdomen, as gentle and careful with the patient in death as she would have been in life.

  ‘Here we are,’ said the staff nurse, arriving through the curtains with the shroud. ‘Let’s get cracking. I want to have him nice and clean as quickly as possible before his wife gets here.’

  Dana couldn’t help herself. She still kept talking to Mr Townsend, or rather apologizing to him, all the way through the procedure. ‘Oops, sorry,’ she said, when she had to bend his by now very heavy and stiff arm. ‘Oh, sorry again. Silly
me,’ as she helped to roll him and failed to stop his arm flopping on to the bed when she leant over to tie the shroud. ‘I hope this doesn’t tickle,’ tying his toes together with a gauze bandage threaded through a name tag.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said when the staff nurse giggled. ‘You must think I’m mad.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Staff Nurse. ‘Look, if talking to them helps you to get over any fear you have, you do it, love. Sometimes, when it’s the early hours of the morning and you’re doing this job all on your own on a dark ward, it does help. I know, because I’ve often done it meself. We all have.’

  Dana breathed a sigh of relief. She knew she was holding her fear at bay. The only thing that had stopped her from running down the ward and out of the door was pretending that Mr Townsend was still alive. And, what was more, it had worked.

  Just as they left the cubicle, Dana saw an elderly lady walking with a stooped back, carrying her shopping basket and greeting the patients on either side of the ward as she came.

  ‘Morning,’ she was saying. ‘I’m just off to shave our Tom. He didn’t manage very well himself yesterday, and it put him right out of sorts. I told him, don’t worry, love, I’ll come and do it in the morning. The charge nurse said he would let me. How have you all been? Had a good night?’ She halted her to catch her breath and wait for a reply.

  ‘OK, stick with me,’ the staff nurse said quietly to Dana. ‘If you thought last offices was tough, wait until you have to do this.’

  For Mrs Townsend, it all happened in a flash. She wondered why the patient in bed two looked so embarrassed and threw a pleading look up the ward. She followed the direction of his glance and saw Pammy and Dana walking towards her, with looks of compassion on their faces just as she noticed the curtains were drawn around her Tom’s bed. And then she heard Dessie shout in through the office door as he pushed a flat trolley on to the ward, ‘Trolley for transfer to Rose Cottage.’ Staff Nurse and Dana reached her side, and saw the fear fill her eyes as it dawned on her. The moment she and Tom had dreaded since the day he first became ill had arrived. And Dana thought it was a terrible thing to see.