The Hive

by Claire Rayner

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, and her voice was high and thin. ‘Why should I say I have a headache when I haven’t? Really, I am tired. I’d rather like to go to bed, if you don’t mind——’

  Daphne had brought a bottle of gin and another of orange squash with her, each with a glass over its neck, and not looking at Susan, began to pour out two large drinks.

  ‘I think you do, Pip. East said something that—frightened you. And you’re working yourself up into a state over it. If you have got a headache, that’s why. Here, have a drink, and then we can talk.’ She held out a glass invitingly but Susan remained by her washbasin, refusing to look at her.

  Daphne carefully set down the glasses on the bedside table, and then, with a purposeful movement turned back towards the younger woman, who was still standing twisting the strings of her sponge bag.

  ‘Come on, Pip. We’ll have to talk about it. Say what it is, and it’s never so bad, is it?’

  Susan shook her head, mutely.

  ‘Damn it all, I warned you, didn’t I?’ Daphne sounded angry suddenly. ‘Didn’t I? I said it wasn’t always a good thing to talk too much about some things, but you wanted to go to these bloody discussions, so we did. I thought perhaps you might even have—some sort of idea about it yourself. And then I thought, No, not my Pip. She’s so honest and transparent, I’d know. So I didn’t think about it again. And they have been a giggle, haven’t they, the other discussions? That Cramm thing was funny, wasn’t it? It served us right, I suppose, laughing at poor old Jo. It’s not so funny when it happens to you——’

  Susan looked up then, and her face was piteous, her jaw trembling so that she could hardly speak.

  ‘You’ve known all along—all along—I’m—what they said —we—what they said—it’s horrible——’ She began to cry, the tears rolling cut of her eyes as easily as a child’s.

  ‘Oh, don’t—Pip, honey, don’t——’ Daphne moved swiftly across the room towards her, but Susan shrank back against the basin, shaking her head, almost in a panic.

  ‘Go away—go away! I can’t bear—go away——’

  ‘Don’t be such a goose!’ Daphne said softly, and gently put an arm round her, and pulled her towards the bed, to sit her down firmly.

  ‘Here. Drink this. And calm down. And when you have, we can talk intelligently about all this silly fuss—come on now——’

  She held the glass of gin and orange to Susan’s lips, and she swallowed, forced to by the pressure of the glass. Then, she took it, and began to drink, her head down.

  Daphne stood quietly beside her, her own untasted drink in her hands, and when Susan had finished, exchanged their glasses, putting the full one into her unresisting hands.

  ‘I’m just a fool,’ Susan said dully. ‘Just a fool. I thought we were just friends, good friends. Mummy thinks you’re a good friend to me—she’s glad we’ve got each other here, she says, and all the time, you knew, you knew I was like that—and that you are too—you knew——’ Her voice began to rise tearfully.

  ‘Be quiet!’ Daphne said sharply. ‘And drink that. Do you want the whole bloody Home in here? Just be quiet for a minute or two and calm down——’

  Susan drank the second glassful, and after a while, shook her head muzzily, and dropped sideways on to the bed. Gently, Daphne took the empty glass from her, and lifted her legs on to the counterpane. Susan lay still, her eyes closed, tears drying on her thin cheeks.

  ‘That’s better,’ Daphne said softly. ‘Much better. Now, let’s talk sensibly. Can you be sensible and calm now?’

  Susan made a small movement of her head, her eyes moving behind her closed lids.

  ‘All right. Now, what’s happened? Nothing. East decided to talk about a man she had in who was homosexual——’ Susan moved her head fretfully on the pillow, and Daphne put out a hand gently, to rest it on her forehead.

  ‘—a man who was homosexual. And she suggested that some other people might have friendships of the same sort. And now you’re upset because you’ve suddenly realised that might be the case with us——’

  ‘Don’t—oh, Daph, please don’t——’ Susan opened her eyes momentarily, and then turned her head away from the hand on her forehead, closing her eyes again. ‘It’s too horrible——’

  ‘But why, Pip, why?’ Daphne’s voice was very soft now, very gentle. ‘What does it change? We’re still the same people as we always were. What’s the difference? All right—maybe we do—care more for each other than is usual. Is that so dreadful? Isn’t it rather a nice thing, lucky for us? You always said that, didn’t you? Lucky us. Poor everyone else, no friends like we’ve got. Isn’t it just the same—still just the same?’

  Susan lay very still for a moment, and then turned her head and looked up at Daphne. The light behind her threw her face into shadow, and in the muzzy state distress and gin had caused, she seemed to Susan to have a nimbus of light round her head.

  ‘What shall we do, Daph?’ she said, whimpering the words. ‘What shall we do? I thought it was so lovely, the way we were, and now she’s made it all horrible—so horrible—made it into something dirty——’

  ‘No, love,’ Daphne said. ‘No one could do that, not even East. There’s nothing dirty about loving someone, is there? Not like—oh, Arthur. She’s dirty, if you like—no love ever comes into her talk, or what she does. But we—we do love each other, don’t we?’ and there was an appeal in her voice.

  ‘It—I don’t know. It’s—the wrong word for us to use. We’re the——I mean, we’re girls. It’s wrong—all wrong——’ Susan rolled her head on the pillow, and closed her eyes again. ‘I feel so awful—awful—my head really does ache, Daph, honestly it does——’

  ‘The light hurts your eyes——’ Daphne leaned over and switched it off, so that only the light from the courtyard outside coming in through the big half-curtained window illuminated the room.

  ‘There—that’s better, isn’t it? Yes, of course it is. Look, let me undo your collar for you—you’ll feel much more comfortable——’

  She opened the stud that held Susan’s collar, and then undid the tight waistband of her dress, and Susan stirred, and moaned a little.

  Daphne moved closer, and began to stroke her head gently. ‘It’s all right, honey, it’s all right. You’ll see. It doesn’t matter one bit. We love each other, and that’s a wonderful thing, not a bad one. It won’t change anything, now you know, really understand. Why should it? It may even make it better—you’ll see——’

  Susan moved convulsively, and then gripped Daphne’s hand hard, looking up at her in the darkness, peering at her.

  ‘Is it all right, Daph, really? Isn’t it bad, honestly not bad? Did you always know, did you, and didn’t you mind—for yourself I mean—didn’t you mind——?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t mind—and I’ve always known——’ Daphne stroked her cheek, so that the other relaxed, and lay staring up at her, her eyes gleaming wide in the dimness. ‘Ever since I was—oh, a kid—I’ve known I was—well, a bit different to the girls I knew—always rushing about looking for boys, like Arthur—and they made me sick, really they did. They seemed to me to be—dirty—I knew I wasn’t, you see. And I always knew that I’d find someone like you one day, someone I could love, who’d love me—you do love me, don’t you, Pip?’

  Susan whimpered again, moving away from her, and then closer.

  ‘I don’t know—I don’t know—oh, Daph, I feel so awful—so tired—I want to go to sleep——’ And she began to cry again, like a baby, moaning and sniffing, rolling her muzzy head on the pillow.

  ‘Come on,’ Daphne said softly. ‘Bed for you, lovey——’ And she began to undress Susan, helping her into her nightdress, coaxing her gently.

  She pulled the bedclothes back, and helped her in, and Susan gripped her hands hard, and pulled her towards her.

  ‘I’m so cold, Daph—so cold—I do feel so dreadful—I had too much gin, I think—so cold—don’t go aw
ay, Daph, please don’t—stay with me, please——’

  Daphne stood very still, looking down on her, where she had fallen back against her pillows.

  ‘Are you sure you want me to stay, Pip? Quite sure?’

  ‘I’m not sure about anything——’ Susan began to cry again. ‘I don’t understand—I don’t understand—you do, Daph, don’t you—you do——? Don’t go away—please—make me warm again—I’m so cold——’

  ‘Oh, God——’ Daphne whispered. ‘Oh, God——’

  ‘Daph——’ Susan said again. ‘Daph?’

  ‘I—shall I come into bed with you—warm you like that?’ Daphne said after a moment.

  Susan nodded against the pillow. ‘Mmm. Make me warm, Daph. I’m so cold, and I’m frightened——’

  ‘There—there——’ Daphne said, and moving quickly, undressed, letting her clothes fall to the floor. ‘It’s all right, Pip, it’s all right——’

  Softly, she slid into the bed beside the weeping Susan, and like a kitten, she curled herself up in the circle of Daphne’s arms, and Daphne held her close, stroking her shoulder with one hand, as she lay and stared at the blank square of window with it’s pattern of light shining through the trees outside. She stroked the bony shoulder under her hand until Susan fell into a light restless sleep. She was still awake when Susan stirred and murmured, and put her arms round Daphne’s neck.

  Susan woke abruptly. She was stiff and uncomfortable, and as she tried to move, she felt Daphne’s warm gentle breathing body beside her. And then she remembered, with a wave of sick shock filling her like a tangible thing.

  She stared at the dark head so close on the pillow, and tried to remember properly. Had it happened, that re-awakening, the murmuring between them in the darkness, or had she dreamed it? But Daphne was there, really there, breathing softly, her face blank in sleep.

  She moved away from her in the narrow bed, and lay still again, carefully not allowing her body to touch Daphne’s anywhere, pressing herself against the wall, keeping rigidly still.

  It had been like this when she was a child, she remembered suddenly. I used to lie like this until I couldn’t tell where my legs or arms were any more. Just like this. And she lay and stared at the window in her turn, willing her whole body to disappear, the way it had used to, so long ago, when she was a child.

  THIRTEEN

  ‘If anyone wants me, tell them I’m in the dispensary, nurse.’ Susan hurried across the waiting hall towards the dispensary, and stayed there as long as she could, fiddling with her drug book and watching the hall through the patients’ hatch. She saw Daphne come in, and moved a little, so that there was no chance she would see her through the small square, and waited.

  The dispensary was busier than usual, with the three pharmacists hurrying to deal with the long queue of patients bringing prescription cards from the diabetic clinic, and when Daphne came in, the senior pharmacist said snappily, ‘Well, Sister? What can I do for you? We’re a bit pushed this morning, and I’ve really no time to fill any forgotten orders now—you really must try to get your requisitions down in good time, you sisters——’

  ‘I just want a word with Sister Phillips——’

  Daphne uncharacteristically ignored the rudeness in the woman’s voice, and stood awkwardly beside Susan near the hatch, ignoring the irritable glances of the girl who was trying to deal with a box of capsules beside them.

  ‘Pip?’ she said softly. ‘Can you come back to your office? I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Daph—I can’t just yet. I must get this sorted out—the nurses are too bad, really they are—there’s a quarter grain of morphine unaccounted for, and I must try and see what’s happened—I suppose one of them just didn’t bother to come and find me to sign the book—I’ll have to keep a much closer eye on them—won’t it do later?’

  She was running her finger down the list of entries in her drug book giving it intense and frowning concentration.

  ‘What happened to you this morning? And you weren’t at breakfast?’

  The back of Susan’s neck reddened, as she kept her head down.

  ‘I said I wanted to get up early for a bath—and I took so long over it, I hadn’t time for breakfast—just a minute, Daph—Miss Velati, can you sort this out with me? I really can’t see where that quarter grain’s gone——’ She turned away from Daphne to the pharmacist beside her, and felt rather than heard her go.

  After a moment, while the pharmacist checked the book, she turned to look through the hatch again. She saw Daphne move heavily across and disappear through the big doors at the end, and suddenly, tears rose thick in her throat.

  ‘It—it doesn’t matter, Miss Velati. I’ll—I’ll check with the nurses again. Look—can you let me have an amphetamine tablet? I had a bad night, and I’m dead on my feet——’

  The girl looked up at her sharply. ‘I shouldn’t, you know. I’ll get shot if someone finds out——’

  ‘Please—I do feel grim.’

  ‘I must say, you look pretty rotten—well, all right, but for God’s sake don’t tell anyone I gave it you—and I can’t do it again.’

  ‘It’s very good of you to spare the time to talk to me, Mr. Jamieson,’ Dolly said. ‘I know how busy you are, but I think this is important. And I’m afraid there’s no one else I can really talk to but you.’ She smiled at him as he sat in his chair behind his desk, and said earnestly. ‘You see, sir, not everyone has the same care for the welfare of the hospital that I know you have——’

  Jamieson looked at her closely, at the high colour, the brightness of her eyes, and smiled back, smoothly.

  ‘I can always spare the time for you, Sister. I know from experience that you are not one of those who like to chat and waste time for the sake of it—too much to do, hmm? Sit you down, now, and tell me what it is that’s on your mind.’

  She sat down, and folded the ends of her apron over her knees tidily before leaning forward on the desk.

  ‘Well, sir, this is a very difficult thing for me. I—I have come to know of something that I think is very—dangerous. It’s a nursing matter, and in the normal way, I would talk to Matron about it, and it would remain simply a nursing matter. But our new Matron——’ She shook her head, and then said with a nice display of awkward honesty. ‘Oh, dear. This is difficult. I’d hate you to think I was merely complaining about Matron, not only because I owe a respect to her position, but because you know that I applied for the post. I wouldn’t want you to think I was telling you this in a spirit of—well, disappointment.’

  ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t do anything so—unpleasant, Sister.’ Jamieson was alert now. Whatever this business was, he knew Dolly well enough to know she would not come to him with mere gossip. This was something real, and might well be of use to him. ‘Just tell me what it is, and we’ll see what can be done.’

  ‘Well, sir. It’s—look, let me ask you a question. Suppose you discovered that two of the doctors—the residents—were—not what they should be. That they were—well, to put it straight, that they were homosexuals? And they were both in residence in the Royal?’

  He leaned back, and pursed his lips sharply. ‘Dear me, that is a difficult question. I’m not sure I can answer it. Certainly, I’d be very—concerned.’

  She nodded. ‘I’m sure you would be, sir. It’s—it wouldn’t be a very good thing for the Royal, would it? Anything could happen—there might be a scandal of some sort, and that would be a bad thing for us, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Indeed it would.’

  ‘Well, sir, I’m afraid we have that sort of problem here.’

  ‘Among the doctors, you mean? Or the nurses?’

  ‘Much worse than that, sir. Among the sisters. It does worry me, Mr. Jamieson. I mean, sisters are in a very—important position. They have young nurses under their charge, and well—I’m worried.’

  ‘You’re right to be, Sister, quite right. But surely, you should tell Matron, and let her deal
with the matter?’

  She sighed. ‘That’s the problem, sir. She knows.’

  ‘She knows? You’ve already told her?’

  ‘Not directly, sir, but she knows—and—she approves.’

  His eyes lit up with malicious interest. ‘You surely don’t mean that she’s the same, do you?’

  ‘Oh, no, sir—at least—I don’t think so. It’s always a possibility of course. It might be the reason she doesn’t intend to do anything about the matter——’

  ‘Someone has told her, and she says she won’t do anything?’

  ‘It’s these group discussions of hers——’

  Dolly launched into a detailed account of the previous evening’s meeting, pointing out carefully that the two sisters who were involved had been present at it, and what Elizabeth had said. ‘It isn’t that I want to go roundabout to things, sir,’ she said earnestly, ‘but I supposed this was the case, and I thought if I—well—brought the subject up at a group meeting, it would be a kind way to warn the sisters concerned, and warn Matron, without having to go directly to her with tattle. I’m in a very awkward position, you see, sir. I’m not the gossiping sort, and I hate the idea of telling tales like that. This seemed to me a good way to do it without starting a lot of trouble. Anyway, Matron understood what I was saying, well enough, and said quite straight out that she saw no harm in such—friendships. She said she would never send away any people like that who were on the staff, no matter what.’

  ‘Did she indeed,’ Jamieson said slowly.

  ‘Yes, sir. And there are plenty of people who heard her say it. And as I say, I’m worried. What can I do? I’m afraid that one of these sisters might—infect some of the young nurses, and there may be some scandal. Of course, if that happens, not only will it not do the Royal’s reputation any good, it might mean some nurses would leave. Would you let a daughter of yours live in a hospital where such goings on were tolerated? Of course you wouldn’t—and there’ll be others who’ll feel like that. We may find ourselves in a bad way, on the nursing side, if something isn’t done about this matter soon. I really don’t know where to turn for the best. I can’t say more to Matron than I have—so I hope you may be able to help.’