Lily's Journey

by Tania Crosse

  ‘It was his chest clinic today, and he does ENT on Saturday mornings, doesn’t he?’

  ‘That’s right,’ William confirmed. ‘He’s a brilliant doctor, mind. Very rarely needs to call in a consultant from Greenbank. And he’s nowhere near as gruff with his patients.’

  I should hope he wasn’t, but I was glad for the women who had to come to the Gynae clinic that it was William with his gentle, understanding manner who would deal with their sensitive problems. Nothing was set in stone, though. The hospital was run by the half dozen local general practitioners, and each had his own speciality. But rather than refer a routine case to a colleague, they would usually treat the patient themselves using the superior facilities at the hospital, including performing operations. Visiting consultants attended certain clinics on a rota system which made it all very complicated, and one of our responsibilities in the office was to make sure everyone knew exactly who was doing what and when, so that patients were booked in to see the right doctor at the right time!

  ‘I’ll walk back with you, Lily,’ Edwin suggested, helping himself to an apple. ‘I’ve got an ulcer patient I want to check on.’

  ‘All right. I’ve nearly finished,’ I replied, gulping down my drink. I didn’t want to miss an opportunity of being with Edwin, did I?

  ‘See if you can be the clerk for my Ortho clinic on Friday,’ he said as we started on the steep climb up Spring Hill. ‘It’ll be my first entirely on my own, so we can muddle through together. Mr Nunn, the consultant, he helped me with the first two, but normally he only comes once a month unless he’s asked for specifically. It was so lucky that George’s speciality was orthopaedics when it’s my particular interest. If it hadn’t been, I’m not sure I’d have come to work with Dad.’

  A kernel of uncertainty unfurled in my breast. I had hoped that my being there had been part of Edwin’s decision. But then I tossed the thought aside. It wouldn’t have made any difference. If Edwin had gone to work elsewhere, it would have forced our relationship onwards, but as it was, it allowed him to take his time. Such as now. The brand new clerk arriving at the hospital in the company of the handsome young doctor. It sent a thrill rushing through my body.

  ‘Right, Lily, might as well throw you in at the deep end,’ Mrs Elderman smiled that afternoon. ‘We’ve half a dozen specimens to be packaged up and posted to the Path Lab in Plymouth. They’re on the table there. Now, you need to go down to the cellar and find some suitable boxes and some straw.’

  I dreaded going down to the cellar, the only part of the job I didn’t love. The original part of the hospital had been built back in the 1890s and despite the addition of electric light, deep shadows enshrouded the unimaginable plethora of items stored down in the cellar. I expected to encounter the ghost of some long-dead patient lurking in the darkness. Once I did and my heart stabbed in terror. But it turned out to be a porter hunting for something in the gloom. I always ran up the steps and escaped as quickly as I possibly could.

  There were three blood samples, two of urine, one faeces and one unrecognisable lump that from the label was a piece of a tumour that had been removed in an operation that morning. I began to box them up carefully, but one of the urine bottles was leaking.

  ‘Go to one of the wards and ask Sister for some brown cotton wool to plug it,’ Mrs Elderman advised.

  I did. But first of all I went to wash my hands! Then I popped into the Duty Room which was almost next to our office to see if one of the sisters was taking her break there to ask permission to go to her ward. If I didn’t recognise their faces, they were distinguished by their starched veil caps and dark blue uniforms. I was out of luck, but a homely, mature nurse, the sort of rotund figure you felt you could trust, did the honours for me, and soon I was on my way to the Post Office with my precious cargo.

  It was one of the great things about the job, being so varied. On Friday morning, we did the wages which I had assisted with at Woolworths so I knew all about working out tax and national insurance. Then I was entrusted with going to the bank to collect the cash. Mrs Elderman had already rung ahead so that it would all be waiting for me, and had also explained that someone new was coming with the authorisation note. So off I went, feeling somewhat nervous and hoping no one would try to steal the money from me on my return walk!

  As I opened the door to the bank, a man was coming out and stood back to hold it open for me. I looked up to thank him and caught a sharp intake of breath.

  ‘Daniel!’

  ‘Lily.’

  He had seemed momentarily startled but then his voice had been flat, a mere acknowledgement of my presence. The instant I crossed the threshold, he slipped past me and went to stride away. Remorse welled up inside me, and I sprang after him, leaving the door to close on its own.

  ‘Daniel, wait. I want to apologise,’ I blurted out. ‘About the necklace—’

  He turned round, shaking his head so that he didn’t meet my gaze. ‘No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I understand why you couldn’t accept it. It was stupid and thoughtless of me to have put you in such an embarrassing position.’

  He glanced at me, his forehead swooped in that habitual frown, but at least his words had filled me with relief.

  ‘Then we’re both sorry,’ I smiled back.

  ‘Yes,’ he answered with a wry grunt, and then one eyebrow lifted. ‘Friends?’

  ‘Of course.’

  His eyes softened to a shade of lavender, pricking somewhere inside me. Just as I was feeling more relaxed in his company, he had done it again. Unsettling me and putting my nerves on edge. But at least I had made my peace and now my conscience was clear.

  ‘How’s the new job?’ he asked, but more out of politeness than interest I felt.

  ‘I’m enjoying it. I’m on an errand for the office now.’

  ‘Then I mustn’t detain you.’

  His formal choice of words and the little bow of his head as he turned away made me feel as if I had been dismissed. I went back into the bank, totally nonplussed. But the chance meeting was soon forgotten. That afternoon, I was to assist Edwin with his clinic.

  The waiting room was hopelessly small, no more than eight feet wide and not much more in length. The tiny receptionist’s table, where I sat feeling very proud in my white coat, was crammed with admission cards and papers, with scarcely any room to write. I had already become used to seeing patients sitting along the corridor on hard, uncomfortable chairs and benches because the waiting room was overflowing! And being the orthopaedic clinic made it even more chaotic with people on crutches or with limbs in plaster trying to negotiate the ridiculously restricted space!

  It all made for a jolly atmosphere, though, especially as, being such a small town, everyone seemed to know everybody else and chatted away as if they were at a party rather than a hospital. So different from when Ellen had collapsed on that dreadful night nearly three years ago now and had been spirited away in an ambulance. I had been left to wait in a silent, empty corridor that echoed with gloom.

  The memory flashed across my mind like an arrow. How that evening had changed my life! But there was no room for such contemplation now. I was living with a professional family, I was a hospital clerk-cum-secretary and I was in charge of my very first clinic.

  ‘Farmer Giles reportin’, young maid,’ a voice above me boomed.

  I had been busy writing and, as I glanced up, the first thing I noticed were the biggest pair of hands I had ever seen. They were huge and would have covered the entire table if the fingertips hadn’t been merely resting on the very edge. My eyes moved upwards to the giant of a man towering over me. Daniel was tall, a touch over six foot and with broad shoulders, but this chap would have made him look like an elf! His tweed jacket must have been specially made for him, and he had evidently hung onto it for years as it was in holes in several places and covered in bits of straw and animal hair.

  ‘Yes, sir?’ I gulped, putting an innocent expression on my face. I was glad I had met him
in a crowded hospital room and not up a dark alleyway at night! ‘Name, please?’

  ‘Like I said, Farmer Giles.’ He smiled down at me from a ruddy, weather-crinkled face and nodded vigorously. ‘Not pullin’ your leg. Really am, like. John Giles, farmer. Doctor ’Iggins sent us ter see this Doctor Franfield. I ’opes ’er can do summat. It’s my shoulder, see. Cas’n move it. No good fer a farmer.’

  ‘Well, no, I’m sure it isn’t,’ I sympathised. ‘You’re a new patient so I’ll have to fill out a form for you. Now I’ve got your name and you say Dr Higgins is your GP, so address, please?’

  ‘Meadcliffe Farm. Comes under Moorshop, like.’

  ‘And your date of birth?’

  ‘Ah, well, I’m not sure ’bout that. ’Ow old d’you think I am, maid?’

  I glanced up, my eyes stretched wide in a mixture of surprise and horror as I realised the waiting room had suddenly gone quiet and every gaze was riveted on me. I shut my mouth and swallowed hard as colour flooded into my cheeks.

  ‘Oh, er…’ I stammered. I was thinking on my feet, trying to compare the fellow’s seamed and wrinkled face with other older people I knew. The skin was brown and leathery, more so than Barry Coleman’s who had told me he was some years older than Uncle Artie who I knew to be sixty-two. So, I took a deep breath and croaked, ‘Nearly seventy?’

  A deathly hush settled on the waiting room and I could hear my pulse crashing at my temples. John Giles’s animated face had become stilled.

  ‘I be fifty-three,’ he said quietly.

  I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. I felt as if my face was on fire, but then a deep, rumbling belly laugh exploded like a bomb in the confined space. I dared to look up at the said gentleman who was crying with mirth as he wobbled like a jelly.

  ‘I be sorry, young cheel!’ he spluttered. ‘But you’m so serious fer a littl’un, I couldn’t resist! Eleventh of April 1902 I were born.’

  ‘Oh, thank you,’ I mumbled, writing it on the form in my neatest hand to a chorus of laughter. I hoped to goodness that Matron couldn’t hear the frivolity, and I vowed never, ever to be taken in again like that!

  ‘Well, you seem to have cheered everyone up!’

  My heart filled with relief as Edwin appeared in the doorway, a bright and sunny grin lighting his face as he came towards me. And suddenly everything was all right again.

  ‘Lily, would you arrange for Mrs Stupples to have an X-ray, please?’

  I nodded efficiently. ‘Of course, Doctor.’

  Edwin’s eyes smiled into mine and he winked mischievously.

  The weeks flew by and I hardly noticed the late summer turn into autumn. Edwin took his turn as the duty doctor for the month and was once called out in the early hours to remain at the hospital for the remainder of the night. Occasionally an emergency would keep him away, but basically he was there when I went to bed at night and when I woke up in the morning, and I saw him on and off throughout the day as well. I was in my seventh heaven. But even if Edwin hadn’t been part of it, I should have loved my job. It was so varied, the people were wonderful and I really felt as if I was playing a useful role in life.

  We celebrated Wendy’s twenty-first birthday in November with an even bigger party than usual. Uncle Michael had finally retired from the sea and I met him for the first time, a tall, slight man, nothing like I imagined. Ian was now officially Wendy’s boyfriend, and a couple of her work colleagues came to the party as well. Daniel had rung at the last minute to decline his invitation with the excuse that the generator at Fencott Place had broken down and he was still in the middle of repairing it. I had never considered before how the isolated house was supplied with electricity, and the thought fleetingly crossed my mind that, as well as being gifted academically, Daniel seemed able to turn his hand to all manner of practical matters. But I for one wasn’t going to miss him at Wendy’s party.

  ‘May I, Miss Hayes?’

  Edwin gave a mock bow, eyes twinkling merrily, and I responded with a sham curtsey. The lounge was bursting with so many people and there was little room to dance properly. So it was slow numbers only, and Edwin held me very close. My heart thrilled with rapture and, as the evening wore on, a few glasses of cider gave me the courage to rest my head against his shoulder as we danced. He didn’t seem to object, and when the music came to an end, he dropped a kiss on my forehead. The breath caught in my throat, and as the guests eventually left, Edwin had one arm around me as we said goodnight to them. I really felt the evening had brought us that much closer, and I was so happy, I could have burst!

  Then it was all down to preparations for Christmas both at home and at the hospital. Naturally, every effort was made to discharge patients for home wherever possible, but the wards were still half full and a couple of elderly people, both of whom lived alone, were looking forward to the company. One old lady who had been admitted in such a filthy, flea-ridden state that we’d had to burn all her clothes, later squeezed my hand and told me with tears in her eyes that it was the best Christmas she’d ever had.

  On Christmas Eve, William dressed as Santa Claus and paid a visit to every single patient, hiding behind a false white beard and bushy, stick-on eyebrows borrowed annually from the local amateur dramatic society. My favourite event, though, was the carol service in the evening. It began with the nurses, dressed in their cloaks, forming a candlelit procession, with other staff walking in pairs behind them. I paired up with Edwin and gazed up at his smiling face bathed in the warm glow from the candles. It was all quite magical, and I could understand why the little children stared at us in utter wonderment as we sang ‘Away in the Manger’ and ‘Oh, little town of Bethlehem’ as we glided serenely through the ward. Then we floated through the two women’s wards which were also on the first floor, and the doors to the private and amenity rooms had also been left open so that the patients there could watch us, too. When we came to the ward for the terminally ill, my throat choked and I couldn’t sing. And then my dear, sensitive Edwin took my hand and smiled down at me, and I found my voice again. When we went downstairs to the two men’s wards, I was feeling relaxed and happy again, even when Edwin left me to have a welcoming word with the young staff nurse who had just started at the hospital. And then we walked home together through the frosty streets of Tavistock.

  Christmas in the Franfield household was yet another jolly family event with visitors coming and going, and Deborah in her element. I was thankful, though, that Daniel had gone up to London to stay with his parents and grandmother, so that I could enjoy the holiday to the full without fear of seeing him. There should be no animosity between us now, but he still had that ability to make me feel uncomfortable.

  A few days later, we three clerks were invited to the nursing staff’s Christmas dinner which was presided over by the ward charge nurse and Dr Wilkins. I sat next to the new staff nurse, Sadie Jessop, and tried to make her feel at home.

  ‘It’s my first time at one of these dinners, too,’ I told her with a smile. ‘I only started here in September.’

  ‘Really? What were you doing before?’

  ‘I was assistant supervisor at Woolworths. What about you?’

  ‘I trained at Truro, and then I was working at Greenbank, but I fancied a change. Somewhere smaller, just like this. And I can still get back easily to Truro to see my family.’

  ‘Ah, I thought I detected a Cornish accent there! But if you worked at Greenbank, you might know Celia Franfield. She did part of her nursing rotation there.’

  Sadie Jessop shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. But it’s a big hospital as I’m sure you know. But Franfield? That nice young doctor’s Franfield, isn’t he?’

  I nodded with a grin, my heart warming as it always did when I thought of Edwin. ‘Yes. Celia’s his sister. And there’s a Dr Franfield senior as well. He was the one dressed as Father Christmas. I live with them all.’

  ‘Oh! You know, I thought you seemed rather friendly with each other.’

  I
’m sure I must have blushed. It was somewhat more than friendly, but I couldn’t say so to anyone yet. So I just explained what had happened when Sidney had died.

  ‘Oh, how sad.’ Sadie appeared genuinely moved, a concerned expression on her pretty face, and I really rather liked her.

  ‘Yes, it was. But the Franfields are a wonderful family. Mrs Franfield’s a nurse, too, but for the general practice. She’s ever so nice. Are you coming to the January Ball? You’d meet her there.’

  ‘Yes, I am. I thought it’d be a good way of getting to know everyone better. It’s held in the Town Hall, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right. Third Friday in January each year. I’ve not been to that before, either. Everyone really lets their hair down, so I’m told.’

  ‘Then that’ll be a first for both of us, too!’ Sadie beamed back at me with a smile that showed to perfection her beautiful mouth and flawless skin that made me feel humbled.

  I had been making myself a gown in a scarlet taffeta that strangely enough complemented my hair, accentuating its golden rather than its ginger hues. I had never had it cut or permed, and planned to let it swing naturally in its waving curls around my shoulders. The dress was tight-waisted and the bodice was topped with a broad, off-the-shoulder yoke. All I needed was a necklace. The one Daniel had wanted to give me would have been perfect. Instead I wore Ellen’s pearls. I wished she had been there to see me off. Cinderella shall go to the ball. I felt that tonight Edwin would declare his love to the urchin his family had taken in off the streets.

  I heard him stifle a little gasp when he saw me and my stomach tightened deliciously. Oh, yes! Tonight I would reach the stars! Edwin, looking as handsome as ever in a new suit, helped me into my best coat and offered me his arm.

  ‘Oh, you look lovely, Lily!’ Wendy exclaimed, winking at me on the sly. ‘Wish I was on the staff and could go. Have a wonderful time, won’t you!’