‘This is very good, dear,’ he says to Judith after a few mouthfuls. ‘I can see I’m going to be well fed.’
The adoring look Judith gives him makes me want to shake her.
‘Judith has often said that cooking should be shared by married couples,’ I say to Alan. ‘How are you in the kitchen?’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean all the time,’ Judith says hastily. ‘Just once in a while.’
‘The kitchen is the woman’s domain,’ Alan says. ‘My mother wouldn’t let me in hers – said I made too much mess.’ He takes a sip of wine. ‘Ah, Cabernet Sauvignon. An excellent choice, dear.’
‘You patronising ass,’ I think. I cannot understand why Judith has fallen for such an idiot. I want to shout ‘Wake up, where are you?’ to her but I know I would simply lose her as a friend. I hope she comes to her senses before the wedding.
I am silent for the rest of the meal. Thankfully Sandy is able to chatter away. She, Jess and I wash up. We leave Judith and Alan alone in the living room Then Sandy and Jess go to work and I tactfully take myself out to the pictures.
I come on duty after nights off to find a baby with TB meningitis. He is nine months old and has ginger hair. His back is arched so badly that his head touches his heels and he has a dreadful scream-like cry.
Sister Howes gives the report. ‘He has had a lumbar puncture and the cerebro-spinal pressure was 480mm of water instead of the normal 100mm. Streptomycin was injected into the subarachnoid space and he is on it intramuscularly also. But I’m afraid there’s no hope. He is going to die – probably tonight. I have talked to his parents. They have gone out for something to eat and will be back later.’
We walk over to the baby’s cot and I feel a heavy sense of uselessness, as I look at the pathetic little human. Why does this have to happen to babies? I can accept the death of old people philosophically. Indeed, many of the patients I have nursed are ready for death and resent any intrusion other than pain control.
‘Deaths of babies are always hard,’ Sister Howes says. ‘It just doesn’t seem right.’ She goes off duty. The night sister visits shortly after as she has heard about the dying baby. I carry on feeding and changing babies with a heavy heart. I can see Nicholas, for that is his name, from wherever I sit and his piercing cry reverberates through my head like the penetrating screech of a train whistle. His parents return and the night sister comes back to talk to them.
‘Can I hold ’im, Sister?’ the mother says. ‘I want to ’old ’im while he passes on so ’e knows ’e’s loved.’
‘Of course you can,’ the Sister says. ‘Put on this gown and sit here.’ She gently lifts the arched form and places him in his mother’s arms. The father stands with his arm around his wife’s shoulder. Nicholas starts to convulse. The mother can barely hold him but she clings on to her baby. I am ready to cry but both parents are showing enormous restraint so I do too.
After an hour Nicholas gives one last jerk and is still. His mother cuddles him and kisses him. ‘Goodbye darling,’ she says as she puts him in his cot. ‘Remember we loved you.’ I can’t help it. Tears run down my cheeks and I find the parents are comforting me, not vice versa as it should be.
‘These things ’appen, nurse,’ the father says. ‘Can’t be ’elped.’
‘The doctor said he’d be retarded like if ’e lived and that would be no life would it? It’s for the best.’
I can’t believe their fortitude but I’m looking at a generation that has just lived through a major war where death was a daily occurrence and mourning a luxury.
I phone the night sister to inform her of the death and ask her to come and certify it. Sister Busby arrives. She is now Night Superintendent. ‘Hello, Nurse Ross. I’d forgotten you’re on here. Which baby is it?’ I show her the dead baby. She listens to the heart with a stethoscope and then asks me if I have laid out a baby before.
‘No Sister,’ I say. I feel unprofessional and foolish with my red eyes.
‘Come outside,’ she says. We leave the ward to sit in the tiny visitor’s room. Sister Busby just looks at me and she seems so sympathetic, I start to cry with a vengeance.
‘Don’t feel ashamed of crying,’ she says gently. ‘It’s when we stop crying we’re in trouble. Some sisters may tell you you’re unprofessional but I am delighted that you care so much.’ I dry my eyes. ‘Do you think you can lay him out now? Do it with love and compassion as your last nursing act for him.’
Sister Busby really is a grand lass and when I’m a sister I want to be like her. I wash the little baby and put on a clean white nightie. Then I fold his hands around a white flower I get from the ward next door. I wrap him in a sheet.
‘Goodbye Nicholas,’ I say as a porter comes to take him away.
1955 is nearly half over when Sandy suggests that we give a party to celebrate our 21st birthdays, all of which fall in that year. ‘I have a patient who owns the Daleswood Arms and he will let us use the rooms for free,’ she says.
In a matter of days we have a party organised. Other patients donate the crockery, cutlery and drinks, someone’s brother plays in a dance band and promises to bring them and Marie surprises us by producing an uncle who volunteers to act as Master of Ceremonies. We provide the food. One hundred student nurses and medical students have a super time eating, drinking and dancing. The whole affair costs six of us, we four with Marie and another girl, two pounds and ten shillings each.
I never fail to be amazed at, and grateful for, the generosity and affection Leeds people show nurses. Our distinguishing purple, black and white scarves earn us smiles and all number of price reductions when we are out, that I know other students do not receive.
My time on Princess Mary quickly passes. The only other death I have is of a newborn with such awful deformities, the death was a blessing.
I give report to Sister Howes at the end of my last night. I tell her I have finished the rotation and who is coming on tonight.
‘Would you like to perm for me?’ she says. I am surprised, then flattered. Sisters sometimes ask student nurses to come back as staff nurses when they get on well with them, as it is important that the trained staff on a ward work well together.
I haven’t really thought about where I want to staff but the prospect of working with Sister Howes, whom I admire, and nursing babies, who I love, fills me with pleasure.
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘I would like that very much.’
Chapter 20
Dear Madam,
I have much pleasure in informing you that your application for registration has been approved and your name has now been entered on the General part of the Register of Nurses maintained by the General Nursing Council for England and Wales. Your registration number is 235802 and you are now entitled to call yourself a Registered Nurse; your date of registration is 4 April, 1956.
Your State Registered Badge will be sent to you direct from the manufacturers; owing to restrictions in supplies of metal there is a delay of approximately six months. When you receive the badge great care should be taken of it in order that it may not fall into the hands of any unauthorised person; it is the property of the Council and arrangements should be made for its return to these offices on the death of a nurse.
Yours faithfully,
Registrar
15 Waterford Gardens
Bramwood, Leeds
10 April 1956
Dear Mum and Dad,
Many thanks for the roses. They are simply beautiful and add a touch of elegance to our humdrum living room. It is nice to have something to acknowledge I’ve finished. We all went over to the Nurses’ Home at nine o’clock last Wednesday to get our letters saying whether we’ve passed or not. We all have. All 13 of us that is, out of 33 that started. Then we went to the sewing room for a length of purple grosgrain to go round our waists as a belt to show that we are staff nurses. And that was it! Back to the wards and business as usual.
American nurses have a big ceremony when they graduate. They wear white uni
forms, carry a bunch of red roses each, have photographs taken, parents come – a general celebration. Us? We just went to Matron’s office. She congratulated us and said sorry that our badges aren’t ready but there’s a metal shortage coz of the war. And we’re to go on nights next month just to add insult to injury.
Judith is in love! I told you she’s engaged didn’t I? His name is Alan King and he finishes medical school at the end of this month and then has a year as a houseman before they can even think of getting married. Marie’s wedding is on 23 June.
Love Jenny
15 Waterford Gardens
Bramwood, Leeds
30 June 1956
Dear Mum and Dad,
We all got nights off together so we could go to Marie’s wedding last week. It was a lovely wedding. Marie looked stunning. She’s pretty anyway but as a bride, she was simply gorgeous.
I enclose two snaps. Number one is Marie and Charles. Don’t they make a nice couple? Number two is us in our hats. Aren’t we a scream? That’s me under that mass of pink fur stuff and that’s the coat Sandy helped me buy. That’s Judith on my right looking like Vita Sackville-West. Wee Jess looks like a mushroom and Sandy is under that bonnet of flowers.
We got up early and took the train to York and had a look round before going to the church. The reception was at a guildhall – I can’t remember which one – and was very lively. All Marie’s Italian relatives were there – men in hats with coloured ribbons hanging from them and the women in lots of frills. They certainly know how to enjoy themselves. And because we are Marie’s friends, we were all hugged and kissed by everyone when we arrived and again when we left. Judith said she felt like a teddy bear.
Marie is not going to stay until the end of the year so she won’t get her hospital badge and certificate, but she doesn’t care – she’s still an SRN. They sail off to Africa after their honeymoon. Judith thinks they have no business meddling in other cultures and imposing their beliefs even if they do provide medical care. I agree with her.
Nothing much else to say. I’m on nights on Princess Mary but it’s been moved temporarily to the private patients wing so it can be refurbished. Judith and I still go riding when we can and Sandy and I have started walking more in the Dales. The scooter is going well.
Love Jenny
15 Waterford Gardens
Bramwood, Leeds
3 December 1956
Dear Mum and Dad,
Four years ago today I started training here! I can hardly believe it. Today I became a permanent staff nurse and wear a purple uniform with long sleeves and a little cape. The sleeves end in solid cuffs which the hospital provide but we have to buy the little muslin cuffs to wear when we roll up our sleeves, which is most of the time.
I am on days now and won’t have to do any more nights unless I choose to become a night sister. Yippee!! I am still on Princess Mary and last month we moved to our new ward. They’ve ruined it. All glass and hygiene – each baby in a separate cubicle. They put a built-in bath in each cubicle and they’ve put them too high for us, as we sit down to bath babies. We told them, but who listens to nurses? I really miss the old nursery-type ward with the fireplace.
I was really touched last week. A very much wanted baby of an older couple died. We couldn’t find out why – he just didn’t grow. I laid him out and we usually place a white flower in their hands. The parents came to visit him and held him for ages and as usual, I had to cry with them. I can’t help it! Well, the next day they came back with a huge bunch of flowers for me because I had put a flower in their baby’s hands. It is so unbearably sad when a baby dies. I still haven’t got used to it.
This year we’re in the pantomime. It happens every year and is put on by the sisters and perms to poke fun at the consultants and the housemen and the Ass. Mats. of course. We have started rehearsals and it is great fun. I will tell you all about it later.
We had a letter from Marie last month. It took two months to get here. They both got severe diarrhoea and vomiting when they first arrived and I suspect that Marie doesn’t find it quite as glamorous as she expected. We have all written back as she is very homesick, she says.
Love Jenny
15 Waterford Gardens
Bramwood, Leeds
15 April 1957
Dear Mum and Dad,
Sorry I haven’t written for so long but there’s not much to say. We are all perms and because of that, we get every other weekend off. We have managed to get the same ones so finally we have some social life. We meet the housemen all the time at work and we’ve had a few parties with them. Last month we hired a bus and went to Blackpool but by the time we had stopped at every pub on the way, it was time to come back again!
Wee Jess is organising a cricket match between us and them to be held one Saturday next month. Lots of fun with a nice group but only Judith has someone special – her Alan, who is now in the house. I didn’t like him at first but now I know him better, he’s not so bad. Being a houseman has knocked some of the arrogance out of him!
The big news is that we’re all going to do Midder (midwifery), starting 1 August. We’ve all applied for Queen Charlotte’s Hospital in London. As it doesn’t have medical students, there is no competition for deliveries and it has a very good reputation. It should be fun living in London, though I’ll be sorry to give up this flat.
A Chinese restaurant has opened in Harrogate. Jess and I went there on the scooter last week. It is quite good but not as good as the Chinese food in Bombay.
People are really funny about it. They don’t know what Chinese food is and are very suspicious – as if it contains fish eyes or something!
Love Jenny
Queen Charlotte’s Hospital
London
15 January 1958
Dear Mum and Dad,
Only two more weeks in this awful place – I can hardly wait to get out of here. I shall never eat peas again! We have peas with every meal. They are bright green. I don’t know how anyone can start with a healthy pea and end up with a fluorescent one but they manage somehow.
You ask why I hate it here. Well, it’s not the mothers and babes; I love them and I love delivering babies. It’s the way we are treated. For example, we don’t change rooms when we’re on nights like at LGI. Fair enough but there is no attempt to be quiet while we are sleeping. The cleaners even come in and clean our rooms while we are in bed! One day when I was asleep, my door was flung open and my clean laundry was dumped on top of me.
The sisters are unbelievable. If I thought the ones at LGI were autocratic they are as lambs compared with this lot. One even expected me to get off the public phone because she was waiting for it. Because I wouldn’t, she spent the time banging on the glass door. On duty they treat us like skivvies instead of State Registered Nurses.
We have lectures every weekday from 8.30 to 10am and you have to be there. So if you’re a day off, you have to get up and if you’re on nights you have to stay up and try and keep awake.
We should have known there was trouble ahead when we arrived as there isn’t a single London-trained nurse in our set. They know better! Anyway, not for much longer. We have to stay in London in February to take two days of exams but of course, they’ve arranged them so that there isn’t two weeks between them for a holiday. Sandy and Jess are staying here for the month but I am going to live with Judith in the flat she’s taken in Wimbledon. I will try and get a job.
Sandy and I are going to Austria on 2 March, skiing. We are going to a little village called Westendorf. It’s £50 for 2 weeks and that includes room, food, travel, ski rental and 4 hours of lessons every day.
Alan is joining Judith some time in February and they’re getting married quietly after he arrives. She doesn’t want a big do. Jess is going to do Part II Midder straight away. She wants to be a district midwife. Sandy and I will go back to Leeds after our holiday. She’s going back to LGI and I’m doing Part II in Leeds.
Love Jenny
Pon
tings
Kensington High Street
23 February 1958
Dear Mum and Dad,
I am writing this at work, if you can call sitting around from 9 to 5 with an hour for lunch, work. I’ve never had it so easy! Mind you, getting a job was not easy and I feel sorry for those who have to try. I started off at Pontings and the personnel manager was very nice and said that if I couldn’t get a job anywhere else, to come back. I tried every store in the High Street and every store in Oxford Street with no luck. They didn’t want anyone for such a short time or they thought I was over-qualified.
So I came back to Pontings at the end of the day and she gave me a job as a ‘floating biller’. When people respond to newspaper ads and want, say, a pair of pyjamas and some shelves, I have to make sure that these items, from different departments, meet up to go in the same parcel. It’s dead easy. It is such a change to go home and not feel tired.
Because I got holiday pay from the hospital, which I used to pay for Austria, I didn’t get paid here for two weeks so I have been absolutely broke. So was Judith. We lived on herb omelettes for two weeks.
Alan arrives tomorrow so I am going to sleep on the sofa. They are getting married on Tuesday and only want me and their parents there.
Love Jenny
Chapter 21
I PARK MY SCOOTER and walk into LGI with a feeling of relief. I feel hugged by the warm familiar smell and cheered by the well-known sounds and sights. When I reach the main corridor I hear a voice say, ‘Hello Ross. Where’ve you been? Haven’t seen you for ages.’
It’s Jordan, a perm I know quite well. ‘Hello Jordan. I’ve been doing Midder at Queen Charlotte’s. I was supposed to start Part II today but there’s been a mix-up in the dates and I can’t start until June. So now I’m looking for a job. What’s been happening in dear old LGI?’
‘Well, we’ve a new Matron for one thing. I can’t stop now but why don’t you come to first dinner and I’ll fill you in. Save me a place if you get there first.’
Yes Sister, No Sister Page 17