It took only five seconds, and although they tried to be gentle, Ivy let out a chilling and ear-piercing scream as she was laid down on the bed.
‘Right, I need a bottle of 9 per cent Saline,’ said the doctor, swinging the trolley across the head of the bed. ‘There was one vein I managed to get into. I need to get more morphine into her now, through the base of the tubing. I need some plaster to cover the puncture afterwards and we need to keep pushing the IV through, like this.’ He opened the regulator on the tube situated close to the glass bottle. ‘She has lost a huge amount of body fluid through the open burns. About half the surface area of her skin is damaged and she’ll be as high as a kite soon on morphia. Those dressings on the burns are gauze soaked in liquid paraffin. The consultant is on the phone to a mate of his at the Queen Vic in East Grinstead. He was a doctor in the RAF during the war and specialized in burns. We can’t decide if the dressings should be changed frequently, or if we should just reapply more liquid paraffin over the gauze and see if the skin will heal and granulate underneath. These new IV antibiotics are a game-changer. You just keep an eye on her obs and let me know if there is any deterioration. I’m going to write up her pain relief and have a word with the pharmacist. We must keep on top of that. Find a way to keep the dosage constant.’
Sister tried her hardest not to, but she looked affronted. ‘Doctor, I know you are new here, but if you don’t mind, this is my ward and if you have instructions for my nurses, please do it through me in future.’
To Victoria’s horror, the doctor was unmoved. ‘I do apologize, Sister, but I’m afraid that at this moment the patient is my main concern, not the St Angelus protocol.’
There was a moment’s cold silence before Sister said, ‘You remain with the patient, Nurse Baker. Please do her observations while we sort out the pain relief.’
Victoria looked at Ivy and wondered how on earth she would take her blood pressure on her blackened and dressed arm. The drip was running through almost on full flow and this panicked her slightly too. It was the first time she had ever seen a patient being given so much fluid. A catheter had been inserted in Casualty, and yet still there was almost nothing in the bag. The fluids were going in, but not coming out.
‘Hello, Ivy,’ she whispered. ‘Are you in any pain now? Does it hurt to breathe?’
‘It was the chip pan, nurse. Our Eddie, he dragged me straight out, but when the pan fell on me he chucked some water on top of me and that made it worse. He’s a soft lad, is our Eddie, but he always means well. The kids will be home from school for their dinner soon. They’ll be wondering what’s going on. I suppose Mavis next door will see to them for me.’
Victoria was amazed. The prompt rescue explained why there was no lung damage from the smoke so that Ivy could still speak, but it was hard to see how anyone could survive such extensive surface burns.
‘Don’t you worry about the kids or your Eddie,’ she said. ‘We need to look after you right now, Ivy. Just you. Remember the promise you made to the doctor? I’m just off to fetch a new drip bottle; I’ll be back in two seconds. You say that first prayer Doctor asked for, to help him.’
Victoria was more like two minutes, but no longer. She risked a ticking off from Sister as she as good as ran across the corridor and flew into the clean utility room, grabbed a drip bottle of 9 per cent saline solution and shot straight back in through the cubicle door.
Before she had even reached the bedside, she could tell by Ivy’s breathing that something was terribly wrong. By the time she had called the doctor back into the room, Ivy was almost gone.
‘Get the head off the bed,’ said the doctor. ‘Quick.’
Victoria didn’t know where she would find the strength. She placed both hands on the bottom of the metal headboard and tugged upwards. ‘It’s stuck,’ she said.
‘Here, let me help.’ Staff Nurse had run into the cubicle. They lifted the headboard upwards and clear of the bed in one go, and looked at the doctor, but he shook his head.
‘It’s no good,’ he said. ‘She’s gone. I can’t even try to massage her heart; her chest burns are far too bad. Damn, damn, damn.’ The doctor smashed his fist into the wall. ‘I knew it, I knew it. I said that transferring her to the ward before she was properly stabilized would be risky. It was the shock. If we could just have kept her where she was for twenty-four hours. We need a unit near to Casualty for the more serious cases. I keep saying this and yet bloody Matron refuses to give up the space.’
Victoria just stared at him blankly. She hadn’t heard the rumours, and had no idea that he was referring to Matron’s own accommodation, which the trust had requested be turned into a casualty theatre and a serious admissions unit. A request Matron had steadfastly rejected. She knew that once she gave in, the four elderly sisters on the accommodation corridor, along with Sister Antrobus would be turfed out too. The four sisters had worked and lived at St Angelus for over sixty years. They had given their entire life to nursing the sick of Liverpool. She would protect them to her last breath.
As they covered Ivy with a sheet, a man with a blackened face and bandaged hands appeared in the doorway.
‘Is that our Ivy, nurse?’ he asked, his eyes filling with tears. ‘They wouldn’t let me leave Casualty till me hands were bandaged. What did she say? Was she in pain? Did she ask for me?’
To Victoria’s relief, Sister appeared in the doorway. ‘We shall go to the sitting room. Nurse Baker, perhaps you could bring a tray of tea. Mr Collins has had a very nasty shock.’
‘Yes, Sister, right away.’ But Victoria always regretted that she hadn’t been able to tell him that Ivy had said he always meant well, and that her voice had been loaded with love and affection for her soft lad as she lay there with her life slipping away.
*
There had been much discussion in the group regarding who would take holiday leave and who would remain to cover. Victoria couldn’t wait to return home to Baker Hall and yet she also dreaded it. For the past three months, every other weekend, Roland had driven over to Liverpool if Victoria had a day off and driven back on the same day. Over that time they had become even closer, and although he had never so much as kissed her they had held hands and never stopped talking. She knew it was Roland she wanted to see, more than the Hall. She had worked every weekend for the past month and so it had been five weeks since she had seen him. They had written to each other twice a week. She was tired of writing letters. She wanted to spend more than a day at a time with him and to know whether they had a future together, because difficult as not seeing him was, not being able to talk about him openly with her friends was equally hard. Dana knew, but Victoria had been too shy to say anything to the others until she was sure she had something to tell them. He had wanted to collect her, but it was a Monday and so she told him that she would take the train and arrive at Bolton at five thirty when he had finished work. She was glad of the day alone. Ivy and her distraught husband had disturbed her. She had wanted to do more. To visit Ivy’s home, to help with the children. But Victoria knew her job was nursing at St Angelus, and she had to remember that. Not becoming involved with patients and their lives was going to prove to be her biggest challenge.
She saw him as soon as she stepped down on to the platform. He was difficult to miss, because he was running towards her, shouting her name. It was almost nine months since Victoria had taken the train from Bolton to Liverpool. She was aware a very different person was returning. At last, she had finally been allocated her holiday and she could barely wait to see Roland.
‘Victoria, over here.’
She could see nothing now for the burst of steam from the engine, and then suddenly he burst through the white mist and she was in his arms.
‘I thought they’d never let you leave that hospital,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘I was scared to look forward to your coming home in case it didn’t happen.’
Victoria looked up at Roland and wondered how their friendship had become love. No words had
been spoken. It had just happened. A seamless transition. He smiled down at her as though he had read her thoughts. ‘Is it acceptable for me to do this?’ he asked, and without waiting for a reply lightly kissed her on the lips.
‘Well, I hope so,’ Victoria replied, smiling back up at him, ‘as you just did.’
‘Well, that’s a relief, then. I did worry I may have misread the runes. That maybe you had found a doctor who had stolen your affections, although I have to say Teddy came home last weekend and reassured me on that score.’
‘Teddy?’ Victoria almost shouted his name. ‘Don’t speak to me about your brother. I still haven’t forgiven him.’
Roland slipped Victoria’s hand into one of his and picked up her case with the other as they headed towards the car. He and Victoria had almost had a row about his brother and so he was happy to let the subject slip.
‘Your letters sound as though you’ve been having a beastly time,’ he said instead.
‘Oh, no, I’m not. Not yet anyway. The beastly time begins when I return to my new placement, after the holiday. I am on ward two with Sister Antrobus. They call her the Anteater, because she almost looks like one. She near killed Pammy’s nursing career stone dead. No one knows how she survived.’
‘Has Pammy given you lots of tips?’
‘Oh, yes. I’ve met a lot of women like the Anteater. Lancashire is full of strong women. She doesn’t scare me one bit.’
Slipping into the passenger seat while Roland strapped her case on to the back, Victoria untied her headscarf, shook it out and folded it into a neat square on her lap as her hair fell down over her shoulders. She knew, deep down, that it was a lie to say she wasn’t scared of the Anteater. She was terrified. She also knew that now, after Roland’s kiss, they were officially courting, even if neither of them had said so. A life as a solicitor’s wife in Bolton with Roland was very appealing, but she had resolved that she would continue with her nursing until she sat her finals in a little over two years’ time. Since St Angelus didn’t employ married nurses, one day she and the others would have to make a choice. For her it would be to be a nurse, or to be a wife and mother. To give up the job she was loving so much, the job that made her feel useful and vital and fulfilled on a daily basis, or not to marry the man she was sure she was now in love with.
They chatted as they drove about Roland’s work, the estate, and the impending sale. About the fact that her father refused to take his calls and that Roland thought the new solicitor was probably dragging things out, helping himself to a large chunk of what was left of the estate.
‘Gosh, Roland, I am so sorry. Aunt Minnie has gone quite mad. I can’t even mention your name on the telephone without her changing the subject. That’s why I haven’t told them you are bringing me home. We will arrive together.’
Roland removed his hand from the wheel and slipped it into Victoria’s. They exchanged a sheepish smile, shot through with the thrill of first love. Victoria found it difficult to stop grinning and, not wanting Roland to see that, she turned to look out of the side window. She breathed in deeply the scent of the heavy autumnal mist sweeping across the moors as they motored away from Bolton and out into the countryside. Despite everything, it was good to be home.
‘What will you tell them?’ he asked. ‘Will you tell them we are together and we hope to be married?’
‘Are we? Do we?’ Victoria was still grinning.
‘I jolly well hope so, unless you make a habit of letting men kiss you at railway stations.’ He lifted Victoria’s hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. ‘I know I’m not supposed to mention him and I don’t want to spoil the moment, but as you are looking so beautiful and serene and you are trapped in my car and cannot escape, I have to ask you again. Teddy’s heart is broken, you know. He thought he had finally persuaded your friend to fall for his charms, but it’s been months now and she won’t even talk to him. He was home last weekend, full of woe.’
‘I’m not surprised in the slightest. He’s a cad. Asked Dana to meet him and then stood her up without a by your leave. At the very least, he could have made contact with one of us to let her know.’
Roland turned the corner into the driveway and Victoria could see Baker Hall standing proud against the skyline in the distance.
‘But he says he did, that he gave a note to one of your nurses to pass on.’
Victoria gave a snort of derision. ‘Roland, do you really believe that? That he would give a note to one of us and we wouldn’t pass it on? No, I’m sorry, if Teddy doesn’t know how to behave, then he can keep well clear of Dana. She has vowed that hell will freeze over before she’ll ever speak to him again. And frankly, if he goes near her he will have me to deal with and then I shall hand him over to Pammy to finish off. No doctor plays around with or hurts the feelings of any one of us without having to face the consequences from us all.’
‘Ouch,’ said Roland, as he flinched. ‘Remind me never to be late.’
‘It wasn’t that he was late, Roland. He stood her up entirely. The poor girl stood there waiting for him for two and a half hours. She had to sneak out of the nurses’ home. She could have got into serious trouble. Don’t you understand?’
‘All right, I do. I am no longer defending my brother. I well and truly rest my case; he can battle on alone.’ Roland was laughing, but also thinking to himself how much more confident Victoria was since leaving Baker Hall and all the sadness that surrounded it. ‘I hear on the grapevine that they are almost packed up at Baker Hall. Although the new solicitor won’t speak to me, the agent is a good man and has been keeping me informed. I don’t want you to be upset.’
Victoria saw the concern for her on his face. He was everything her father had never been to her mother. Protective, and caring, and she loved it.
‘I won’t be upset. I have had a long time to think and to realize that there are things in life far more important than an estate. Health for one. Roland, have you ever eaten chips?’
*
As Baker Hall came into view, Victoria was surprised to see removal lorries parked in front of the house.
‘Have things gone already?’ she asked.
‘No, not quite.’ Roland had avoided going into details on the journey, but now there was no getting away from it. Victoria would have to be told everything. ‘I’ve seen some of the listings. The paintings are being sold at auction in London, but the rest is being sold here. Did you know that you had almost forty horse rugs in the stables, or so the inventory said?’
‘Yes. Some of them were there long before I was born. Mother looked after everything so well.’ Victoria’s eyes filled with tears and a sob caught in her throat. She had been desperate to come home, but suddenly, Roland or not, she wished she were miles away.
‘Victoria!’ Aunt Minnie ran down the steps. ‘What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until this evening.’
Two men with folders in their arms came down the steps behind Aunt Minnie and Victoria guessed that they were the new solicitors. She felt Roland bristle next to her. Her aunt completely ignored Roland as she continued. ‘I had hoped this would all have been finished weeks ago, but these men, they drink so much tea, it has taken them twice as long as expected. It’s the war, you know; all the best workmen appear to have been killed off. I’m amazed this lot are tolerated by their employers.’
‘I wanted to get here as quickly as I could. I’ve come to help, Aunt Minnie. You can’t do this all alone. Where’s Daddy?’ she asked.
She felt anger bubbling up inside. She was no longer the shy and unsure Victoria who had left home nine months ago. This Victoria had made friends, passed exams, fallen in love and held patients’ hands as they exited the world. She had worked long hours, been with people as they were told the best and the worst of news. In short, she had learnt about life outside Baker Hall. This Victoria knew her own mind. Roland had put the palm of his hand in the middle of her back and was exerting gentle yet reassuring pressure. If you fall, I will
catch you, said his touch, as clearly as any words.
‘Oh, your father. He’s worse than the workmen. Sitting in his study. Hasn’t lifted a finger. Shouted at them when they came in to take the pictures down. I told the auctioneer that he will have to sell your father as a job lot. He refuses to move.’
‘Poor Daddy.’ Victoria turned to Roland. She wanted someone who didn’t really know her father and all his faults to agree with her.
‘Poor Daddy my eye,’ said Minnie. ‘The dower house is lovely. You know, now that it is done, I cannot understand what has possessed us all to hold on to this crumbling pile for so long. I was dreading the auction only a few months ago, and now I can’t wait for it to come. I’m afraid there is nowhere for you to sleep inside – all packed up. You’ll have to go to the dower house and I will meet you over there.’
‘I think I’ll just take a look around the Hall, if you don’t mind.’ The pressure in the small of her back increased, just a fraction.
‘But the dower house is so warm. There are no fires lit in the Hall. It’s chilly in there. And I’ve had all your things moved over. Go and have some tea, darling. It will take a little adjustment.’ Minnie’s voice had moved from assertive to pleading and Victoria instinctively felt she was hiding something. ‘You don’t want to traipse around the place now. I know you won’t accept it overnight, no one knows that better than me, but honestly, in time you will feel just the same, glad to be rid of a freezing, oversized mausoleum.’
A sudden noise stopped all conversation.
A look of bewilderment crossed their faces as they stood united. Paralysed by disbelief. And then they heard a piercing scream from one of the maids and Roland moved ahead of Victoria, up the steps to the house. Still she could not move. She had heard that sound so many times before, but never inside the house. The sound of her father’s gun.
*
Her father’s dog put his head on Victoria’s lap and stared up at her, his eyes dark pools of misery.
‘That’s the worst thing about dogs, you can’t explain to them what has happened. They don’t understand,’ said Roland, as he sat next to Victoria on the big comfortable sofa in the library. The label attached to the string that hung from one arm said that it was lot number 147. They both nursed glasses containing the best brandy Baker Hall had left in the cellar. The funeral had been held that afternoon, allowing mourners time to travel from London.
The Angels of Lovely Lane Page 28