Call Me Sister

by Yeadon, Jane

  I should have kept on my new boots. They wouldn’t have been so obvious as the tell-tale shoebox I was now carrying.

  ‘You’re a long way from home.’ Sister Shiach had come out of the chemist shop where I was now scissors-bound. She was laden with two large packs of incontinence pads. She swung them like weighing scales as she explained, ‘These are for one of my thrifties. She thinks that drying her used ones saves money.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I think her house smells like an ill-kept fish shop and she thinks I’m a representative of a spendthrift society.’

  I didn’t need to mention boots and maybe buying scissors to cut feathers wasn’t a very good reason to be in Dingwall either so I explained about Jock and how he wanted to tempt Willie back home with a television. Hens, I considered, were surplus information.

  ‘Sounds as if Willie’s getting hospitalised. Silly blighter doesn’t realise he’s lucky having Jock.’

  It’s a funny world, I thought, remembering Raigmore and Miss Caird, who’d had nobody. The last thing she’d have wanted was to be in hospital, but then she didn’t have a caring brother chivvying her to get better and back home.

  A wave of laughter and banter burst down the street, startling Sister Shiach. She looked at her watch. ‘Heavens! That must be pub-closing time. I’ll need to get on. You too.’

  Then she bent her head and hissed, ‘Blast! Look the other way. You’ll never guess who’s heading in this direction.’

  15

  PROGRESS OF A KIND

  There was something heroic about Ginny Saunders-Hewitt. In a defiant stance against the weather she skittered towards us wearing impossibly high heels and a very short skirt. Maybe the fur jacket was keeping her warm or, more probably, it was where she and the Captain had just come from.

  As soon as she caught sight of us, she grabbed her husband’s arm. ‘Oh, look! It’s Sister Shiach and,’ she aimed a cool if slightly ill-focused glance, ‘her little helper!’

  In a world of swirling snowflakes, the Captain’s face was like a Belisha beacon of cheer. He stopped to button up his camelhair coat, a bit hindered by Ginny hanging on but still able to look about. He raised his eyebrows when he spotted a Morris Minor mounted halfway on the pavement and very near where we stood.

  ‘So it is! If we’d spied that we’d have known it was you, Sister. Your parking skills are famous. Ha ha!’

  Shortly after getting to know Sister Shiach, I’d learnt there was only one way to really annoy her, and the Captain’s criticism of her driving had just done it. Blithely, he carried on. ‘It’s not something you do, is it? You just jolly stop.’ His speech might not be as slurred as it had been at our last encounter, but I reckoned he must have lost some brain cells since then. He can’t have known he was playing with fire.

  Sister Shiach’s eyes narrowed, her brow gathered, her lips tightened and she spread her feet as if readying for physical combat. For a delicious moment I thought she was about to clock the Captain with one of the incontinence bags but fortunately (or not) the car horn blasted.

  ‘That’s Jomo telling me not to hang about and that we’ve work to do. Nice to see you, Sister Macpherson, but don’t you be standing outside too long in this weather. I don’t want you to freeze.’ And with that she hurried away.

  ‘Whoops, I say! Must’ve touched a raw nerve there as well as stopping the good lady from getting on,’ said the Captain, ‘and maybe we should head home before we freeze too.’ He nudged his wife and winked. ‘And I’m sure that when we get there we’ll think of a few ways to keep us warm, eh, Ginny Gin?’

  ‘Oooh, Charles,’ she giggled, ‘You are a rascal. But come on. I never thought it’d be such fun revisiting those days of our youth. D’you think there’ll be hot water for a bath as well?’

  The pair staggered off in a waft of alcohol and mothballs, surely coming from the fur jacket. Maybe it too was enjoying a resurrection.

  But this was no time for reflection. The hospital-visiting hour would soon be up and Jock had to be collected before I could finish Ann’s list of patients. I’d make a quick nip to the chemist shop, then I’d be on my way.

  ‘Good afternoon, Sister. Are you collecting someone’s prescription? In this awful weather I suppose you’ll be finding a lot of your patients are stuck at home, not able to collect them themselves.’

  I wondered if the lady serving me was the pharmacist. Her grave manner, white coat and grey hair had the authority of someone used to giving advice. Behind the rimless spectacles was a shrewd gaze. I suspected that under it many a young chap bent on buying contraception would develop a sudden cough and go out of the shop with a packet of lozenges instead.

  ‘Actually, I’ve come to buy a pair of good strong scissors,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, nobody’s tablets then.’ She sounded disappointed, but still eager to help, pointed to an array of cutting implements displayed in a glass cabinet. ‘Would that be stitch, nail or plaster?’

  I couldn’t tell her she’d missed out on the feather category. ‘Plaster, please.’ I said, immediately regretting it when she came back with , ‘Ah! Someone’s broken limb healed now and ready for the cast to be cut off. Now who would that be?’

  Thankfully, she immediately patted her mouth in a delicate way and looked about. ‘Oh dear, that’s confidential I suppose. It’s just that we generally know every health matter around Dingwall. You’ll understand it’s only a kindly interest.’ She leant over the counter and whispered, ‘But Sister, you shouldn’t have to buy scissors. Surely you’re supplied with ones.’

  I whispered back, ‘Actually, I think I may have mislaid mine.’

  It was worrying how easily the lie slipped out. I decided that the next time I came shopping I’d not be wearing the uniform even if I knew I was already marked. She’d clocked the shoe bag.

  Nodding at them whilst wrapping up the scissors, she said, ‘It’s good you’ve had the time to get these. It must be your half-day but you’re late for going off duty and I bet you’ll be wanting to get home before the snow blocks the road. That plough’s always late on the road. Have you far to go?’ The question was casual, but I knew it was loaded.

  It could have been fun not letting on but she’d such an interrogatory manner and I needed to be on my way that I relented and told her.

  ‘Some of our Muir of Ord patients get their prescriptions elsewhere, you know,’ she sounded annoyed, ‘even if we give them a little advice for nothing. But you come back and see us again and if your patients can’t collect their prescriptions, you be sure and get them here.’

  ‘That Mabel Ross is awful nosy,’ declared Jock once I’d collected him from the hospital and told him about the scissors. ‘I was in school with her and she was as bad then – bigsy too. And the way she carries on you’d think she was the chemist and owned the place. I thought she was retired but she must be doing holiday relief for another assistant, assis —’ He clamped down on the last word.

  ‘That’s strong stuff, Jock,’ I said. ‘I wonder what she’d have said if I told her the scissors were for cutting your hens’ feathers.’

  But Jock was too busy watching the snowplough clearing the road before us to respond. Eventually he clucked in a disapproving way, reminiscent of Dilly and Dally, ‘Oh I mind when we cleared the road just with shovels. That’s awful heavy machinery they’re using. And see the mannies shovelling out that sand? I bet there’s stones in it. They’ll grind down under pressure of the snow so when it goes we’ll be left in a right mess. You can get a bad bike accident if you hit a pothole.’

  I wondered what was making Jock so scratchy. He’d told me that Willie was getting home in a couple of days so he should have looked happier. Instead he kept playing his fingers over his knee and whistling softly and tunelessly.

  As I drew up at his house, I said, ‘You’ll be looking forward to a bit of telly tonight. It makes good company.’

  There was a momentary silence, then Jock burst out, ‘I’ll no be switching it on. Willie’s been telling
me what he’s been watching watching. Mannies wrestling, Nursie, wrestling!’ He shook his head in disbelief and blew his nose with a scrap of material, last used, I suspected, to clean his bike. ‘I wouldna want mannies like that in our house, house.’

  At this rate I was never going to get back to Muir of Ord, but Jock was looking so upset I went for an exasperated, ‘Och, Jock! The only mannies likely to be in your house are the two of you and sometimes I’m thinking that’s two too many. Come on, I’ll show you how to work that telly so you get a decent programme and we’ll get Dilly and Dally sorted before they make the great escape.’ I added hopefully. ‘It shouldn’t take long.’

  Would Sister Shiach be proud of me, I wondered. It was nearly five o’clock and I’d left someone in her district happily dividing his attention between responding to a TV panel game quiz and chatting to Dilly and Dally through the box holes. ‘Now, hennies, stop complaining. At least you’re inside, but as soon as you get to know the others, you can join them. I’m sorry we had to clip your wings, but Nursie says you’ll soon love being stay-at-home girls.’

  He’d not be used to getting any kind of response so I wondered how he and Willie would get on once he was discharged. He seemed to have emerged fighting fit, in every sense of the word.

  It was a pity that the same didn’t apply to Miss Forbes. After I finished Ann’s list and before going back to her house, I thought I should check on the old lady. Since she wouldn’t welcome a random visit, I needed an excuse to call. I knew I had one as soon as I saw there was neither a light showing in her window nor smoke coming out of the chimney.

  16

  DOG CONTROL

  ‘It’s all right, LBP,’ I called, going into the house a lot more carefully than the last time. ‘It’s only me.’

  There was no answering sabre-rattling growl, which, in a way, was worrying. I couldn’t find the hallway light and had to grope made my way to the living room where the sound came of someone troubled for air. I made to switch on the light but was stopped as Miss Forbes wheezed, ‘Don’t you dare put on that light. LBP and I are enjoying a little peace and quiet in the dark. Can’t you see that?’

  ‘No!’ I said, and banged down the switch.

  At least LBP wasn’t a problem. In fact, she’d become a pathetic-looking little bundle shivering at her mistress’s feet. Now, shiny with retained fluid, they were even more swollen than ever, with the same oedema stretching up her legs. Heaven help her if they got knocked. A skin under such pressure would easily break, allowing serous fluid to leak out, making a soggy route for sores and ulcers to follow. It was a bleak prospect.

  I wished I’d spoken to her GP earlier. My patient needed constant care that would really get rid of the fluid, take the pressure off her lungs and heart and get her legs back in working order.

  She flapped a tired hand. ‘Just give me a mo’ and I’ll be all right.’

  Apart from discussing the joy of straight guy ropes and reef knots, I knew there was only one way to my patient’s troubled heart.

  ‘Look! I know you’re worried about your doggy, but really you’re doing her no favours at the moment. You don’t want to get to the stage where you really can’t look after her, now do you?’

  Making a sudden decision, I got down on my hunkers and gave LBP straight talk. ‘Now that we’re good pals, I’m happy to take you home with me. Then your mistress can concentrate on getting herself better and she’ll do that quicker if she’s in hospital.’

  Miss Forbes struggled to reach down to fondle the dog’s ears, seemingly unaware they were flattened, or that LBP was showing me bared teeth. Even if the bonding signs between us weren’t favourable, I persevered. ‘And, LBP, you’ll be good company for me, but I’ll need to phone the doctor first. See what he says.’

  Miss Forbes made a long and gusty sigh, then nodded, ‘His number’s in the telephone’s wee pull-out drawer.’

  The doctor answered at the first ring. He sounded wearied. ‘Uh! Miss Forbes. My old soldier. I worry about her, especially as I’m not sure what I can do. She messes about with her medication so consistently knows best. What she actually needs, of course, is to go into hospital to get properly sorted.’ There was a pause. ‘But I bet she won’t.’

  ‘I think she might now,’ I ventured, ‘I’ve a feeling that she knows that staying where she is at the moment isn’t an option.’

  ‘Really? That’s good and if that’s the case, I’ll phone for an ambulance. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if you need to go with her.’ The phone crashed down.

  Miss Forbes might not be particularly operational, but she’d got herself out of her chair and was able between wheezes to give some directions. ‘Right, Sister, you might have to fight your way into my bedroom but you’ll find a suitcase on top of the wardrobe. It’s packed already. Be Prepared, as you know, is the only way.’ She bent down and spoke to LBP. ‘And you’ll have to be a good dog and do what your temporary boss tells you. She’s not as grim as she looks.’

  There surely couldn’t be any bigger compliment than being trusted with LBP, but as I located the case, I worried about Miss Forbes’s level of faith. A dog that wasn’t used to anybody other than its owner might not settle for a new minder, especially this one. And in the meantime, what would I do if I’d to go in the ambulance? The house was cold and LBP looked so small, miserable and frightened, it was going to be difficult leaving her here on her own.

  Miss Forbes must have been reading my mind. She said, ‘I don’t want you coming with me. I’ll be fine as long as I know my dog’s all right.’ The set of her jaw made argument impossible. After realigning her hairnet, she fumbled in her pocket and produced a lipstick. Aiming it at her lips, she drew a bright red gash. ‘There!’ A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. ‘I’m all set and there’s the ambulance. After you’ve taken out my case, you go back and lock up.’

  ‘You’ll find LBP’s basket in the kitchen,’ Miss Forbes had instructed. ‘She hasn’t been using it much lately.’ She’d grimaced. ‘Not good, I know, but she’s been more of a comfort than a hot water bottle.’

  I presumed she meant the basket that was so well chewed only half of it remained, so I carried it as carefully to the car as I did LBP. I tried to tempt her with some food when we were back in Ann’s house but, child-like, she set her head away from it.

  I’d tied her fringe back with an elastic band. Maybe that had been a mistake because now I couldn’t help but see her eyes brimming with sadness and fear. Touched by such abject misery, I took her into my bedroom and that was the second blunder.

  When I woke next day, the little room with its sweetie-pink walls, matching carpet, rose-sprigged bedding and curtains had become Halitosis Hall. LBP’s basket too showed even more signs of deterioration, and her eyes watched beadily over an edge lowered practically to the ground

  ‘You’ll need to see a dentist,’ I said, jumping out of bed, ‘and Ann’s going to be furious what with her black bag being slavered over and her house smelling like a fish factory.’

  I shoved up the bedroom window and let in a blast of air. Before, Ann’s garden had been pristine under its mantle of white, but now it had small yellow patches on it made by LBP last night. I supposed I should be grateful that she knew better than to pee inside.

  I bent down and patted her. ‘If I didn’t know you better I’d say you were trying to look personable. Come on, you’ve something to do before we go to work. Ann’s snow needs some more melting.’

  ‘We couldn’t help noticing the ambulance at Miss Forbes’s house.’ Mrs Munro, dishtowel in hand, met me at the car. Her eyes, alive with concern and curiosity, suddenly took in LBP. Her face lit up.

  ‘What a cute wee doggie,’ she cried. ‘You didn’t say you had one.’

  ‘Mind your manners, LBP,’ I urged, worried that Mrs Munro’s twiddling fingers reaching through the small space left at the top of the car window might get bitten off. I got out of the car.

  LBP showed the whites of he
r eyes then bent her head as if in despair. Already her foetid breath was misting the car windscreen. I shouldn’t have had porridge for breakfast. I could feel it turning in my stomach.

  ‘Och, Nurse, is that a rubber band she’s got in her hair?’ Mrs Munro scolded. ‘The poor wee thing’ll no like that. Could we take her in to see Himself, d’you think? He loves dogs – is always on about having one, and to tell you the truth,’ she dropped her voice and looked around as if the whole of Muir of Ord could hear, ‘I think she might be the very one to brighten him up. Th ought I’d catch you and mention it before you go in. Maybe it’s the diabetes and maybe it’s being retired with little to do, but he gets down particularly at this time of year.’

  ‘He’ll want to run a mile from this one,’ I pulled a face. ‘She’s a smelly wee warrior and needs a bath and a visit to the hair dresser and she’ll make your house smell like the glue works.’

  Mrs Munro had the brightening look of someone on a happy-making mission. ‘D’you think that living in a croft was nothing but fresh air? Come on! I’m dying to take her in.’ Already she’d opened the car door and with only a cursory glance in my direction, lifted out LBP before I could scream, ‘She might bite!’

  But all LBP did was wag a tail I’d only ever seen tucked between her legs. She gazed trustingly up at Mrs Munro, who tucked her under arm and patted her head. This met with LBP’s full approval.

  ‘Rubber band! What’s the nurse thinking of?’ There was real rebuke in Mrs Munro’s voice as she headed back into the house. LBP cocked her ears and looked as if this was the first time since last night she’d heard anything sensible.

  ‘Is LBP all right?’

  I knew it would be the first thing Miss Forbes would ask. Driving in to Inverness, I’d been wondering what I’d tell her. Now, sitting during the afternoon visiting hours in a ward where I’d so recently worked, I still wasn’t sure. For a moment, I glanced round the ward.