Call Me Sister

by Yeadon, Jane

  ‘Don’t speak to LBP like that. She wouldn’t harm a fly. I think you’ve hurt her feelings. And who are you, anyway?’ The voice came from the bed. Although it was weakened by breathlessness, it still held a command I recognised.

  Memories of camping with a group of other Girl Guides in a field near Muir of Ord came flooding back. I looked again, suddenly remembering that this Miss Forbes had come to inspect how the camp was being run. Impressive in her uniform and with a gash of lipstick, the only feminine concession to her military bearing, she strode around inspecting patrols, checking our ties for their knots, our badges for their polish. Her experience as a district commissioner had given her the ability to carry her message over a twelve-acre field. At a jamboree, she must have struck terror into all those girls who failed to appreciate the fun of survival games played in the great outdoors. Heaven help those guides at a more local, smaller event she held responsible for loose guy ropes and wrongly-angled tent pegs.

  Now, however, with her powers sadly diminished, she lay under a heap of blankets covered in dog hair, no help to her breathing problems. I wanted to check her pulse but she was wearing so many layers of clothes it couldn’t be done unless she allowed it. Right now, this seemed unlikely. Maybe, as that Raigmore doctor had hinted, it was easier dealing with unconscious patients.

  A cold draught blew round my ankles, and still worried about LBP taking a bite out of them, I made my introduction brief.

  Miss Forbes struggled to sit up and then adjusted her hairnet. I wondered if it was the same one (as I recalled her saying) that only came off was when she was putting up a bell tent. Now, less efficiently, it sat over her eyebrows whilst she dealt out a measuring look.

  ‘Sister, you say? Young whipper-snapper, more like. Anyway, I don’t think you’re a very nice sort of person. Look how you shouted at LBP and came barging in here.’ She patted her chest as if that might help her breathing, then managed to wheeze, ‘So I think you should take your little black bag and get out before I call my doctor and tell him there’s a cheeky young brat here masquerading as a nurse and certainly not a Sister.’ She slid down the bed again. ‘So thank you for calling but goodbye.’

  I felt like the naughtiest girl in the patrol and wondered how Sister Shiach would have coped with the situation. Probably by this time, I thought miserably, she’d have had LBP enrolled in a ‘better-manners’ course run by Jomo. Meanwhile, Miss Forbes would be happy, chatty, washed, dressed and sitting with a cup of tea in front of a cheery fire reminiscing on how three sharp whistle blasts could alert help from every guiding corner.

  Clearly, I’d upset both my patient and her dog. I stood for the moment, undecided. Miss Forbes was giving a very good impression of being fast asleep, whilst LBP’s nose stuck out from under the bed as if she were on sentry duty. She must think I’m a threat to both her mistress and herself, I thought, and only a bucket-load of tact and diplomacy will put things right.

  Compared with Raigmore’s standard lightweight model, the commode near the bed was a substantial affair of mahogany-coloured wood. The Queen Anne legs added class. The back and pan lid were padded in rich red velvet. I sat down on the lid, hoping that it was as solid as the rest of the chair.

  If Miss Forbes had been taking her diuretic tablets the pan would need emptying, but she was so breathless I suspected she hadn’t been. It seemed more likely that her body was holding such a build-up of fluid it was putting pressure on both her heart and lungs.

  LBP’s nose, on very active duty, inched out a little further.

  I tried for a conciliatory tone, ‘You’re a good dog, LBP, and I’m very sorry if I’ve offended you.’

  She looked doubtful. Nevertheless, she managed to squeeze her head out sideways, which made it as unbecoming as her accompanying growls and snarls.

  I went on, ‘But, for a lady, your language is unbecoming and, frankly, I think your namesake, would be horrified by it. Lady Baden-Powell had very high standards.’

  As if I’d sounded a reveille, there was a stirring under the blankets. Miss Forbes shot open her eyes and gave me a look that was more curious than suspicious.

  ‘Do I take it you were a guide?’

  ‘I certainly was. I loved being one.’ Remembering growing up on a Highland upland farm where cats and dogs constituted high society, I was honest. ‘If it hadn’t been for guiding I don’t think I’d be where I am today.’ I recognised that my present position might not be regarded as the high point of a career, so I hurried on. ‘What I mean is that I learnt from people who were dedicated to giving young folk the benefit of their time and experience, that there’s an exciting world beyond home ground and that it’s well worth exploring.’

  ‘And did you learn how to make a cup of tea?’ Miss Forbes wondered.

  ‘Yes, and how to light a fire. Come on, LBP, you can show me where the sticks are.’

  Encouraged by her mistress’s tone of voice, LBP made her full appearance. She might have had an ancestry of Westie Scottish terrier blend but now, grey-haired, whiskery and dishevelled, she was more like a pocket edition of Miss Forbes. Still, she didn’t have swollen legs or a hairnet. The latter would have helped to hold back the long fringe obscuring her view. Perhaps her mistress wasn’t seeing too well herself. I was sure she’d have been vexed if she’d realised LBP had matted bits on her coat and nails that were too long. They clicked on the linoleum as she followed me into the kitchen.

  There was a whistling kettle on a solid Baby Belling ring. It looked as if it might achieve blood heat, if we lived long enough. The outside back door stood open.

  ‘There’s a flask of hot water on the table, and the tea caddy’s on the window sill,’ my patient instructed, her voice rising marginally. ‘That cooker takes as long to heat up as it does to cool down so I try to use what they call its residual heat.’ She gave a derisory snort. ‘Supposed to save energy. Whose, I wonder.’

  A smiling Queen graced the tea caddy with a red geranium standing beside it bursting with health in stark contrast to a back garden so overgrown that LBP, who’d gone out the open door, had completely disappeared.

  I was a bit anxious about her, but Miss Forbes was reassuring. ‘She’ll be all right. The back garden’s secure. That’s why I leave the door open. She can come and go at will. It’s not always easy for me to get to it.’

  Her admission that she had a difficulty emboldened me.

  ‘Would you think of having someone in to give you a hand. Maybe a home help?’

  There was such a long pause that I thought she must either have fainted or that my supposed tact and diplomacy were being given due consideration.

  14

  POULTRY MANAGEMENT

  The silence was actually Miss Forbes needing all her energy to get out of bed. It was so low she merely rolled out onto the floor. However, it wasn’t going to be so easy getting up from there. I tried to help but she shrugged me off. ‘Leave me. Once I roll over, I’ll get onto my knees.’

  It was hard standing by, just watching, but she persevered. Eventually she managed, then, using the commode arms as leverage, she pulled herself up. As soon as she did, she plumped down on the commode seat, exhausted and wheezing so badly I wondered if I should call her doctor.

  There was a telephone beside a stack of The Guide magazines on the kitchen table. I checked the line was operational, then fiddled about a bit, hoping to give Miss Forbes time to recover at her own pace.

  Eventually when I did go back, she said, ‘For goodness’ sake, don’t look so worried. From the way you’re looking, you’d think I was about to keel over.’ She was still breathless but she managed, ‘I expect it looks much worse for you. Actually, I was up a few times last night. I’m sure that’s making me more chesty than usual. I’ll get better as the morning goes on. I always do.’ She tried to inhale, but stopped short. ‘But as you’re there, you could help me put on my dressing gown.’

  It was a small concession that I was useful, and I was even more pleased when sh
e followed it up with , ‘You know, it’s not that I wouldn’t like a bit of help, it’s just that I hate upsetting LBP. She’s timid but she’s got it into her foolish head that I need to be protected. It puts her on red alert all the time. That’s not good for any caller or a dog. I do worry about her especially now that I’m not so able to exercise her. At least she’s getting that free run outside. That’s why I leave the door open. She can come and go as she likes. Plenty of fresh air’s good for the two of us, I say!’

  From the blood-curdling growls and snarls floating through the door, I figured that, at the very least, LBP’s lungs were beneficiaries.

  ‘She won’t get out the front, will she?’ I asked, remembering the broken gate.

  ‘No. The back’s blocked off. It’s a pity. She’d have even more space then, but I wouldn’t want her run over. We’re so near the road a car could easily get her. Now once I get that cup of tea, I’ll get washed and dressed and then I’ll see if you can light a fire with only one match. Mind, I’ll be watching!’

  Was there humour in that voice, I wondered, handing over tea in an enamel cup, the only one I could find without turning the kitchen upside down. Miss Forbes plunged her hand into the dressing gown pocket and took out a bottle of tablets.

  ‘These damn water pills make me pass enough to sink a ship,’ she said, ‘but at least I’m up now and able to make the loo – so much better than this thing.’ She wrinkled her nose and banged the commode’s arms. ‘I never did like latrines.’

  As she took a tablet with her last swallow of tea, I blurted out, ‘That should help your breathlessness too.’

  ‘I’m not that,’ she wheezed. ‘I’m just fine. I’ll manage the rest myself, and once that fire’s got going so can you. I’m sure you’ve plenty others to see to. We’ll see you tomorrow.’

  * * *

  Snow fell, feathering the windscreen. As I got into the car, I worried about Miss Forbes. At least, I supposed, she’d let me help her get washed and dressed to sit by the fire. I’d even made my peace with LBP, now happily sitting on her mistress’s knee. My patient was so independent she was never going to really admit her problems, but if this cold continued, by tomorrow morning I might have another Willie scenario, only there’d be a rabidly protective dog to deal with as well.

  At the time of my visit, I’d wondered why Miss Forbes was in such an unsuitable bed, but a sneak peek had shown that she couldn’t get near any other. Every room was crammed with guiding paraphernalia she was plainly unable to sort. Pride was an issue. So was confidentiality.

  It might be easier to keep in Muir of Ord, divided by a busy main road, but villages are prized for neighbourly interest. Miss Forbes mightn’t see it like that. Maybe I could ask Ann if she knew anyone who was discreet, a dog-handler, had guiding experience and an ability to empathise with a proud old lady, now frail and fallen on hard times.

  The anxiety chewed away at the back of my mind through a morning dealing with Ann’s list and reassuring her patients that I wasn’t a permanent replacement. As soon as was possible, I drove back to Conon Bridge so that I could leave a politically correct message on the answering machine. Then there were the long johns. They needed to get back to their owner. I’ll pop them in to Jock, I thought. It won’t take a minute.

  It was as startling to see a television aerial sprouting from the Duthie house as it was to hear flapping noises coming from the tree beside it. Two hens were perched on a branch halfway up it. Resisting Jock’s attempts to coax them down, they merely spread out their wings for balance, clucking irritably as if annoyed at being disturbed.

  ‘Come on, Dilly and Dally. Get down out of there. The other hens won’t touch you.’ Jock rattled a pail of grain which mightily interested every hen but those in the tree.

  With no sign of the pair moving and the defiant squawks continuing, I was reminded of LBP. The attitude was much the same. I nearly suggested chucking a brick at them but then remembered Jock’s soft heart. I couldn’t think how else to help. Still, it was an intriguing situation, so I went for, ‘I didn’t know any of your hens had names.’

  ‘The Campbells gave them to me. They said I’d need eggs for Willie for when he comes home and these are good layers.’ Jock didn’t sound convinced. ‘The bairns had them for pets but got scunnered of them. The Campbells are awful soft, you know. They just left that two to please themselves.’ He glared up at the tree. ‘And that bit’s true. I should never have let them out of that box.’ He kicked the one lying at his feet. ‘It’ll serve them right if they freeze up there. Just look at the other hens, they’ve all gone inside. Now that’s girls with common sense, common sense!’

  ‘And that should apply to us too.’ I handed over the long johns, which Jock took and tucked under his arm in an absent-minded sort of way.

  ‘Fine, fine,’ he said. ‘Willie was asking about them. I’ll get them to him this afternoon.’ He returned his gaze to the tree. ‘Once I get Dilly and Dally down.’

  I shivered. There were flakes of snow sliding down the back of my neck and my chilblains itched.

  ‘You’re not biking in?’

  It must be especially cold. Jock was wearing a raincoat. Compared to the rich red-brown of those pesky Rhode Islands, it was more like the colour of mud. As he tightened the belt, he threw me a challenging look. ‘Of course. Willie’ll be looking for me.’

  I remembered Sister Shiach and the old man she worried about falling off his bike. Ann’s list of afternoon work was short and I didn’t want to start worrying about Jock as well as Miss Forbes. Then too, being a compassionate sort of person, I thought about my poor feet. They deserved a decent pair of boots. I could maybe buy them ones in Dingwall.

  ‘Look. I’ll take you in.’

  You’d have thought it was an indecent proposal. ‘Oooh, no! I’ll manage fine.’ He said, then looking worriedly at Dilly and Dally. ‘I’m running short of time though and you’ll be wanting to get on with your work, Nursie, Nursie.’

  The snowflakes now melting and making a chilly track down my back made me irritable. ‘That’s true and this is holding me up so look, Jock, I’ll make a deal with you. I’ve got to go to Dingwall anyway, so if I help you get those brats down will you let me drive you there?’ Not waiting for an answer, I looked around. ‘Have you a ladder?’

  Torn between care for Willie and caution regarding transport, Jock had decided that in the meantime, he’d be safe enough with a ladder. He came back with a metal one, evidently stored at the back of the house.

  ‘Man’s work,’ he said, leaning it against the tree then clearing the rungs of snow, ‘but maybe you could steady it.’

  Continuing their stance, the hens looked down, shouting in defiance and spreading their wings as if readying for take-off. Still, I reckoned they looked safer than Jock. As he started to climb, his tackety boots cslinked on the rungs. Occasionally there was a scrape as his foot slipped. Never had such roadman-like noises sounded so dangerous. A cold hand clutched my heart. I held onto the ladder like grim death. What if he fell?

  Nurse training, like a few other things I was discovering on district, hadn’t catered for poultry management or immediate care of somebody flattened by a falling person. As I looked up at those trouble-making hens, I thought back to my farm childhood days. I remembered how efficiently my father wrung hens’ necks and shouldn’t have thought it, but found the memory uplifting.

  As Jock neared his targets, one of them panicked into flight. Her navigational skills were so poor she flew with all the grace of a frozen turkey. It made it easy to catch her. I stuffed her into the box whilst the other, flustered without her pal, followed suit.

  ‘Gotcha. You must be Dally. Join Dilly,’ I said, and shut the lid.

  Jock climbed down. ‘Are they all right?’ He peered through air holes punched into the box’s side. ‘They don’t sound very happy.’ He was definitely working on not repeating his last words. I wondered why. Maybe I’d find out on our way to Dingwall, if we ever got ther
e.

  I said, ‘They’ll be fine but I expect you know they’ll need their wings clipped to stop their flying careers. Have you a sharp pair of scissors?’ Momentarily I thought about the glinting, shining ones in Ann’s nursing bag, but couldn’t really justify using them. ‘If not, we can get a pair in Dingwall. Come on, Jock. We’ll miss the visiting time if we don’t go now. Just put away your bike clips and mind and take those dratted long johns with you.’

  Jock climbed into the car, carefully kicking his boots free of snow. Then he shut the door, sat back and sighed as if surrendering to an uncertain fate. Already he was making me feel nervous. Dingwall wasn’t far away but my passenger with his eyes trained on the speedometer and whistling whenever it went over thirty mph had a slowing effect.

  I don’t know who was the most delighted when we got to the hospital but Jock’s look of relief went as he got out.

  ‘I’m thinking Willie’s no keen to come home. Maybe having the telly’ll do the trick.’ He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. ‘I wouldna like to think I got it for nothing. Anyhow, I’ll no be watching it, watching—’ He slapped his hand over his mouth. ‘Uh! Willie says me always repeating myself drives him daft. It’s just a habit I got into when I was on the road and keeping myself company but he says that’s why he’d given up saying much to me,’ Jock sounded plaintive. ‘But how would I have known that if he wouldna tell me tell me?’

  ‘I expect it’s because he didn’t want to hurt your feeling,’ I said, moved at seeing Jock’s hurt expression, ‘but it sounds as if he’s plenty to say to you these days. So that’s good news and I’m sure he’ll be delighted with the telly. Anyway, hospitals are always wanting their beds freed up so whether your brother likes it or not, he’ll be home before he knows it.’

  My confidence must have reassured Jock a little for he walked off quite jauntily whilst I went to find a parking place near a shoe shop.