by Anna Jacobs
‘I’m afraid the authorities aren’t allowing us to make any structural changes to this house, so we have to take the rooms as they are. I can’t see what they’re making such a fuss about. It’s quite a small country house and seems nothing special to me.’
‘Mr Pashley has already shared the details of Greyladies with me and even after seeing only the outside, I agree with him that this house is valuable to the country historically. We can’t ruin one of Britain’s architectural treasures, Matron. That would go against the very thing we’re fighting for.’
A huff of air was his only answer.
‘I think the first thing to do would be for you, or someone else, to show me round.’
‘Wouldn’t you like some refreshments first, Dr Somers?’
‘No, thank you. I stopped at a friend’s house on the way here.’ He went back out into the entrance hall. ‘Once I have a full picture of the house in my mind, I can decide where I want my office. A room as big as this would make a beautiful sitting room for our patients.’
Her expression went even more acid, if that were possible, so he changed the subject again. ‘I met the owner of Greyladies on my way from the village. I thought he was one of our patients because he was limping, so I offered him a lift.’
‘That man! For a cripple, he has some utterly ridiculous ideas about his own importance.’
Benedict couldn’t hold the reproof back. ‘Don’t ever call someone a cripple again in that tone of voice, Matron! People with serious physical problems have enough to get used to without facing the scorn of more fortunate people with whole bodies.’
She blinked, opened her mouth, then snapped it shut like a steel trap, but the look she threw in his direction showed exactly what she was thinking.
‘The tour?’ he prompted.
They walked round the house, and he couldn’t help exclaiming at how beautiful some parts were, especially the big stained glass window which must flood the entrance hall with rainbows of colour in fine weather.
He found a much smaller room on the ground floor which would make a perfect office for himself, and another next to it which would suit Matron, who had taken possession of the former dining room. Since he knew by now that it would be war between them, he didn’t scruple to use his authority as Commandant and Medical Officer of Greyladies to ask her to move to the smaller room. Good heavens, the larger one could hold six severely injured patients.
‘We must all make sacrifices for these men, who have made great sacrifices for us,’ he reminded her when she glared at him. ‘And there will be far worse injuries to come than those who’ve arrived so far.’
‘Tell that to the owners of the house.’ She gestured towards an ancient wooden door at the rear of the entrance hall. ‘They have refused to give me the key to that door, so they can walk into the house at any time and interfere with our treatment.’
‘Have they walked in without invitation?’
She hesitated. ‘No. But they might do so at a crucial moment, and we can’t risk that. If it were up to me, I’d burn that old door and replace it with a sound modern one. Look at it! The wood’s rough and it needs painting.’
He wasn’t having that! ‘If anyone burnt or damaged the door, I’d personally see them prosecuted for it. It’s an immensely valuable antique dating from the sixteenth century.’
‘I can see that Mr Latimer has been bending your ear already, and no doubt blackening my name.’
‘No. He didn’t mention the door, or discuss his dealings with you in any way. It was Mr Pashley who admired the former entrance door connecting the two parts of the house.’
Even that didn’t please her. ‘You will find Mr Latimer too weak willed to do anything properly. He even changed his surname to his wife’s when she inherited this place. What sort of man goes against the usual customs of our country like that?’
‘It’s family tradition for the Latimers, I gather.’
Another angry huff of sound expressed her feelings.
Benedict wondered what sin he’d committed to be given the penance of working with this harridan, who found fault with everything and had upset him several times in the first hour. ‘There’s another problem that must be solved if this place is to function properly, and that’s the need for a lift to take the patients up and down. There are three floors designated for use, after all.’
She stared woodenly at him.
‘I’ll have to discuss it with Mr and Mrs Latimer, and see if they’ll agree to some minor structural changes, perhaps in the servants’ area at the rear. No time like the present. I’ll go and see them straight away. I should introduce myself to Mrs Latimer, anyway. We need to maintain good relations with the family, who can probably help us in dealing with the locals. Do you use the connecting door to visit them or the rear door of the old building when you want to consult them?’
‘I do not consult them about anything. I know my job already.’
As a new young doctor, he’d been secretly terrified of a matron very much like her. As a surgeon in his late thirties, with a great deal of experience working with badly damaged human beings, he wasn’t in the least bit afraid of her or anyone else. But he was angry that he had to waste his energy on the stupid, bigoted woman when there were men desperately needing his help, men who needed a calm, happy environment in which to recover.
He didn’t usually judge people so quickly, but in this case, she had made her feelings and approach to the medical profession very plain: old-fashioned and authoritarian. Nineteenth-century medical practice not twentieth. She was completely the wrong person to work here. And he wasn’t at all sure that Greyladies was the right place for him and his patients, either. It was too small and on too many levels. How were injured men to get up and down those staircases if they couldn’t build a lift?
The War Office was doing its best, he knew, but there were bound to be some changes needed to the places allocated in such a hurry.
He had some influence with the authorities, thank goodness, and was quite prepared to use it to get the best for those in his care, and for the doctors with whom he’d share his skills.
Phyllis came bustling into the big hall where the family lived. ‘The new doctor’s come to see you. I put him in the servants’ dining room.’
‘I’ll fetch him,’ Joseph said at once. ‘I think you’ll like Dr Somers, darling. He’s not at all like the Dragon.’
Harriet put down the diary she was trying to write, and waited for them to return. The doctor was a man approaching his middle years, with a face that might once have been good-looking but now looked careworn, as if he’d seen some terrible things.
He held out his hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs Latimer.’
She shook it, pleased at this sign of respect and a modern attitude towards women. ‘It’s good to meet you, too, Dr Somers. Please sit down.’
He took a chair but didn’t wait for her to speak. ‘I should have been here at the beginning to prepare the house for patients, but I was dealing with a group of doctors I’ve been training and a group of bigwigs whose goodwill is important for my type of medicine.’
‘Your type of medicine?’
‘Rehabilitation surgery and the convalescent needs linked to it.’
She watched his brow wrinkle and there was a pause, as if he was unsure how to continue.
‘I gather Matron Dawkins has been somewhat … er, aloof in her dealings with you, Mrs Latimer.’
Harriet contented herself with a nod. He was trying to be polite and professional about the Dragon, which spoke well of him, but his expression had become grim when he spoke of Matron Dawkins. That displeasure had happened quickly!
‘We need to make some changes to the front part of the house, to enable our patients to get around.’ He held up one hand to stop her speaking. ‘If you’d just let me finish? I don’t want to do anything to damage the house, which is beautiful, but some of the men need a lift to take them up and down to their various areas. They ca
n’t sit in their wards all day. And I think I know how we can fit in a small lift without damaging the fabric of the house. Would you consider it?’
Harriet looked at Joseph, and he nodded encouragingly. ‘We’d certainly consider it, if it didn’t damage the house. The men’s welfare is important, but I’m the current custodian of Greyladies and I take that responsibility very seriously, too.’
He relaxed visibly. ‘I only ask you to stay open-minded until you see what I’m thinking of. We could go and look now. I’d explain better with that part of the house in front of us.’
‘Of course.’ She stood up, hesitated, then decided if they were being frank, she needed to say something. ‘Dr Somers … could you allow some of the men to visit us once they’re able to walk around? They could use our garden, which is at the side and has several pleasant places to sit? It’s such a waste not to use it, because there are places there which are sheltered, even during the winter.’
He looked at her in puzzlement. ‘It’s very kind of you to invite them. What’s stopping them from coming?’
‘Matron has forbidden it.’ Harriet tried to soften her words. ‘I think she’s worried about … um, about their welfare. But how would it hurt for them to come here, into the house even, to borrow books and sit reading quietly? They would surely enjoy a change of scene, however minor.’
Dr Somers bit his lip as if trying to think what to say. ‘Matron isn’t used to the sort of hospital I shall be running. It’s not necessary medically to supervise the men for every minute once they’re convalescent. It can be a question of time for healing between operations and minor adjustments, and they do better if given as much freedom as possible.’
In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. ‘One of the officers, Captain Averill, is an acquaintance of my husband’s family and even he has been forbidden to visit us.’
‘I seem to have jumped straight into the deep end of a difficult situation, Mrs Latimer.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry for that, but I’m not going to pretend that relations between Matron Dawkins and ourselves got off to a good start. Or that she has any goodwill about improving them.’
Joseph nodded. ‘My wife is right. We’ve tried but we’re simply not welcome to help the men. In fact, she told my wife she had enough to do, staying here and looking after our children. As for her attitude towards my … physical difficulties, it’s not good.’
‘I won’t pretend either. For the patients’ sake. They are more important than anything else, in my eyes. But we’ll keep such thoughts in confidence and feel our way carefully. She is an experienced matron and has done an excellent job of setting up the wards and medical supplies.’
Heaven help the people she’s in charge of, though! thought Harriet, not for the first time. She stood up. ‘Then please show us your idea.’
He looked towards the old door. ‘Shall we go back that way? It would … send a message.’
‘Of course.’
When Benedict led the way through the door, Matron was walking across the hall, holding a folder of papers. She swung round at the sound of the door opening and glared as he walked through it, followed by the Latimers.
‘Ah, Matron. Just the person I wanted to see.’ He knew his voice was a bit too jovial, but it was the best he could manage. ‘Mr and Mrs Latimer have agreed to consider giving permission for a lift, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the fabric of the house, and I know just the place we might be able to put one.’
She ignored the Latimers completely. ‘Surely the War Office would have had a lift installed if they’d thought it necessary, Dr Somers?’
‘They’ve left such minor changes to my discretion. I am, after all, an expert in this sort of medicine. Let me show you all what I mean.’ He led the way into the kitchen, going through it to the laundry area. ‘That storage space could be used and its contents stored elsewhere, in a temporary hut, if necessary.’
He flung open the outer door. ‘Let’s see what the building is like here, whether I’ve remembered it correctly. Yes. Yes, I have.’
He waited till his three companions had come outside and studied the outbuildings.
‘This part of the house seems to have been added on to the newer building almost as an afterthought. As you can see, they didn’t bother to beautify the rear of it, because it’s out of sight. I don’t think we’d be damaging anything worth keeping if we put in a lift here.’
Joseph limped up and down, studying the building and Harriet followed him. They spoke to one another quietly, then turned back to Benedict.
‘I think you’re right,’ Harriet said.
‘And what’s more,’ Joseph added, ‘I think you could put a glass walkway here so that the men could get into the front of the house from the lift without disturbing the kitchen staff.’
‘But who would keep an eye on them? Make sure they don’t stray?’ Matron exclaimed in an outraged tone. ‘I can’t spare any staff to oversee this area.’
Benedict let out his breath slowly and threw her a sop. ‘We could give official permission to those capable of it, to move about the house on their own. Others should, of course, be accompanied by a nurse or orderly – or even another patient as they improve.’
‘I agree about installing a lift. It’d make the nurses’ and orderlies’ work easier. But I do not approve of patients wandering about on their own under any circumstances.’
‘It’s part of their rehabilitation, at least for those who can achieve near normality. And it’s my job to help them get to that stage. Given the war, I fear we’re all about to learn a lot more about what helps and does not help to rehabilitate badly damaged men. We must therefore all keep our minds open to new ways.’
She said nothing, simply scowled at the Latimers, then at him.
‘I was thinking …’ Joseph said hesitantly. ‘Aren’t lifts powered by electricity?’
‘Yes.’
‘There is none at Greyladies.’
‘Oh. I see. I’d assumed that in such a big house you’d have installed electricity, even if only for the main living areas. Most people are doing it, it’s so convenient to be able to light the place up without all the fuss of gas or oil lamps.’
‘We don’t have gas, either. There was talk about having it brought into the village, if enough people were keen, but then the war began.’
Matron’s face now bore a smug smile.
‘I should have checked that sort of thing before getting too enthusiastic,’ Benedict said with a frown. ‘But there are electrical power lines only a mile or two away. I saw them as we drove here. I’m sure we can overcome that problem, given the urgency of the situation. However, you’re right about one thing. It’s no use making any changes until we’ve got the electricity and gas supply set up.’
He turned and gestured to Harriet to precede him into the house. ‘I’ll walk back to the connecting door with you.’
They all looked at Matron, unsure whether to say goodbye to her.
She solved the problem by giving them a slight inclination of the head. ‘I must get back to work. I don’t have time to chat.’
What was this if not work? Benedict wondered as he escorted the Latimers to the offending door, then went to find Matron again. ‘I’d like to visit the patients now, if you don’t mind.’
‘It would be far better to do that later on, or in the morning even. There are nursing duties to attend to, you know, and we have our routines.’
He tried to speak calmly. ‘I need to see them now, so that I can review their cases tonight.’
‘Kindly give me half an hour, then, to prepare.’
‘Prepare what?’
She puffed up again, anger sparkling in her eyes. ‘I am used to making sure doctors see a clean and tidy ward, with patients ready to be questioned, if necessary.’
He decided he’d better give in a little, in the interest of their relationship. ‘Fifteen minutes, then.’
Benedict waited for ten minutes, leaving his batm
an to unpack and settle him in his room. Then impatience got the better of him and he set off. As he walked towards the wards, he heard raised voices and stopped to eavesdrop, in the interests of gathering real information about how things were run.
‘I’m not going to undress and go to bed at this time of day, Matron.’
‘You will do as you’re told when you’re in my hospital, Major.’
The person replying had a deep voice, an educated accent. ‘Who’s going to force me into my pyjamas?’
‘The orderlies, if necessary.’
‘I don’t think they’d dare do that to a major.’
What the hell was going on? Benedict wondered. He moved quietly towards the door, stopping when he could see the speakers. Fortunately, Matron had her back to him and though the man defying her saw Benedict, he didn’t say anything, but waited, his sound arm resting in his sling. He was standing next to another man, a captain by his uniform insignia. He too had his arm in a sling.
There was no reason for them to stay in bed, if that was all that was wrong. Why was Matron insisting on it?
Taking a deep breath, he entered the room.
Matron swung round and moved forward quickly to block his further progress. ‘We aren’t ready for you yet, I’m afraid, Dr Somers. I need to get your patients into bed first.’
He didn’t want to confront her in the presence of a nurse, who was standing in the corner looking embarrassed. How the hell could he deal with this idiocy?
‘It is my job to prepare patients for a doctor’s round and—’
Someone yelled in the next room, a cry of sheer pain, and he turned instinctively to go and help the person.
He found a man writhing on the bed in the throes of a nightmare. The movements were giving him pain, clearly, but he hadn’t woken, which was strange. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ he asked in a low voice.