The First Year

by Lucilla Andrews

  ‘Don’t I know it!’ She promptly explained why. ‘If I forget the drinking-waters they say loudly, “Nurse Forbes is just fetching them jugs in now, Sister,” and cover up and remind me at the same time. If someone asks for cocoa and I give him coffee by mistake he’ll swear blind he never touches anything but coffee. And last night, when I overcooked the rice-pudding, they must have heard Bennings storming on to me about wasting food as no one would touch it, for they all demanded dry rice-pudding and said it was ever so tasty! Higgins,’ she added lovingly, ‘was heaven. He said it reminded him of home, as his missus always burnt the rice-pudding ‒ but he didn’t let Bennings hear that. He told her in front of me that he’d had a lovely supper, ta very much, as he was always a one for rice-pudding!’

  Erith bounced into the kitchen. ‘You girls shouldn’t be drinking cocoa in here. It’s after nine-thirty, and Sister’s already chaperoning the first round.’

  Josephine explained that we had not hurried as our lecture was not until a quarter to ten and we were both off duty. ‘Does it matter if we take our time over our cocoa as we’re off?’

  Erith glanced anxiously at the door. ‘Not in most wards. But Bennings has got a thing about pros. lingering in kitchens. You girls had better drink up and go and get some air before your lecture ‒ and before Bennings discovers you haven’t gone.’

  It was too late. The door opened just then. Nurse Bennings frowned at us from the open doorway. ‘This is a ward kitchen, not a canteen! Will you two probationers get your cloaks and go off duty at once!’

  Josephine put down her half-finished cocoa reluctantly. ‘Sorry, Nurse; yes, Nurse.’ She moved to the door, accidentally knocking my arm as she passed me. I had been determined to finish my drink, as I was hungry, and was just about to drink quickly. The jar to my arm made me relax my hold on the cup, and the cocoa spilled over and down on to the front of the clean white apron into which I had just changed to present a pristine appearance in our lecture. Josephine gasped, ‘Rose, I’m so sorry!’

  Which annoyed Bennings on two more counts. ‘Really, Nurse Standing! Are you incapable of holding a cup without spilling it?’ She turned on Josephine. ‘And, as for you, Nurse Forbes! How dare you use a Christian name in a ward? You know that is forbidden!’

  Josephine apologized again. ‘I’m sorry, Nurse. I forgot. And I’m sorry about Nurse Standing’s apron. It was my fault. I jogged her arm.’

  ‘Nurse Forbes,’ said Bennings calmly, ‘you do not have to make excuses for your friend. I have worked with Nurse Standing.’ She looked at my stained apron. ‘And I have already discovered that if there is anything to be spilt or dropped Nurse Standing will spill or drop it. The sooner ‒’ but she broke off there, and her expression changed as she glanced down the corridor. She looked very attractive when she smiled like that. The tone in which she said, ‘Good morning, Mr Waring. How nice to see you back again! Have you had a pleasant holiday?’ matched her smile.

  The white-coated figure of the S.S.O. appeared at her side. He said he was glad to be back, had had a pleasant holiday, and had come to do a round. ‘Sister is with Sir Henry, I imagine?’

  He glanced casually into the kitchen as he spoke, nodded at Erith, looked correctly through Josephine and myself. Everyone looks through first-year pros.; they simply do not exist on the landscape. Unless they have ruined aprons. Consequently, although the S.S.O. avoided looking at my face, he looked for several seconds at my apron.

  Bennings was purring at his elbow. ‘Sister is with Sir Henry, Mr Waring. But I could take you round if that will suit you?’

  He said that would suit him very well, thank you, and they moved away from the doorway.

  Erith closed the kitchen door quickly, leant against it, and began to laugh. Josephine asked what the joke was.

  Erith shook her head weakly. ‘You wouldn’t understand ‒ you’re too new. But you must have noticed how she changed into an angel of sweetness and light?’

  I said I had. ‘She looked a different girl. She’s daft. She ought to smile more often. It makes her quite lovely.’

  Erith, still grinning at her private joke, said Bennings would smile a lot now her beloved Jake was back from his fishing holiday.

  ‘Is that where he’s been?’ I asked. Josephine and I had discussed his absence a couple of times, but had been too busy by day, and too tired by night, to trouble to inquire of anyone why the S.S.O. never appeared in his ward.

  Erith shot a keen look at me. ‘Do you know Jake Waring? Is that why he gave you the look he did just now? I must say, Standing,’ she smiled again, ‘you do look a sight, sprayed with cocoa.’

  ‘I’ll bet I do. No ‒ I don’t know Jake Waring ‒ only who he is.’ Which was perfectly true. Josephine said nothing; she just finished her illicit cocoa and watched Erith watching me.

  Erith suddenly slapped her thigh. ‘That’s who you are, Standing! Why didn’t I get there before! Bill Martin’s description absolutely fits you.’

  Josephine looked at me now. ‘Angela was right,’ was written all over her face. I decided to be dumb ‒ and why not, being a blonde?

  ‘What fits me, Nurse?’

  As we expected, she repeated my basement encounter with surprisingly little exaggeration. ‘That P.T.S. pro. was you, wasn’t it, Standing?’ I nodded, and she laughed. ‘Was Sister P.T.S. livid? She always adored Mrs Clark. We all rocked when we heard about it ‒ even Sister Francis was amused; all but Bennings, that is. She was not amused.’

  I said I supposed you had to take life seriously if you won a gold medal.

  ‘It wasn’t that. A P.T.S. pro. doesn’t count as a nurse. No. It just happened that you bulldozed yourself and Mrs Clark into two of Bennings’s private problems in that basement.’

  Josephine was as fascinated as I. ‘Which two, Nurse?’

  Erith pulled open the door and looked up the ward. Then she shut it again and returned to her former position. ‘Both happy chaperoning, so I’ve got a moment. As I was saying ‒ two problems. One, a dark lad called Bill Martin, who was running round with Bennings a while back. I’m not sure if they got as far as being engaged ‒ it was when I was on nights last spring; but they certainly got around together, and then something seemed to happen, as Bill Martin wasn’t around Bennings any more. But, for all that, when he comes in here, you’ll see Bennings giving him the old green light she gave Jake Waring just now.’

  ‘What? Both of them at once?’ I asked.

  Erith said it was obvious I was very young. ‘Bennings collects scalps, my child. It’s her favourite hobby. As Bill Martin isn’t around much any more and the S.S.O. is, Bennings is busy trying to collect him. I assure you, she has a positive thing for him now; the whole hospital knows that.’

  ‘And has he got a thing for her?’ I asked.

  Erith said that was the 64,000-dollar question. ‘Could be. He’s a quiet type, but he certainly smiles at her, and, like Bennings, Jake doesn’t smile easy. So don’t go knocking him down again, Standing. And stay clear of Bill Martin. Bennings doesn’t encourage pros. to trespass on her preserves.’

  I said she was welcome to both of them. ‘Thanks for giving us all this inside information, Nurse. Now, I suppose I had better hare over to the Home and change my apron.’

  Josephine came across with me. She said she had been enchanted to hear all about Bennings’s love-life. ‘She’s dead lucky. That S.S.O.’s frightfully good-looking.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ I buttoned a clean apron round my waist quickly. ‘I’d say he was too fair. And I don’t go for that sort of my-work-is-my-all expression. I like men to look human, even if they are doctors.’

  Josephine was surprised. ‘Rose! I never thought you had any views on men. You’re too much of a tomboy.’

  ‘Impossible not to be if you are brought up with brothers on either side of you. Question of self-defence. But, in theory, I’m all for the boys and a love-life. Only snag is, just when does a pro. have time for a love-life?’

  I
expected her to agree with me; it was a subject frequently bemoaned by our set. Instead, she said rather primly that she thought it was quite a good thing. ‘And after the dirty look the S.S.O. gave you this morning, Rose, I think it’s another good thing that you like dark men. But do hurry up! We’re going to be late for that lecture.’

  Angela was off duty that morning too, and after the lecture she asked Josephine and me to go shopping with her. ‘I want to go up West to buy a hat for a wedding. Come and help me choose one, girls.’

  I loved choosing other people’s clothes and said so. ‘Only I’ve got very bad taste in hats, Angela. But if you buy what I don’t like you’ll probably do well; so I’ll come and lend moral support in reverse.’

  Josephine declined the invitation. ‘My feet are killing me, and I must write up my lecture notes.’

  Angela said Josephine was making a great mistake. ‘A nurse needs relaxation and change in her off-duty. Do you far more good to come.’

  I laughed. ‘Angie, you sound exactly like Sister P.T.S.! But do come, Josephine. It’ll be fun buying Angie a hat.’

  Josephine said, thank you, no. ‘I’ve shopped with Angie before. You’re in for a Marathon, Rose. And you’re tougher than I, even if you don’t look it. I’m saving my feet for this afternoon.’

  ‘What’s so special about this afternoon?’ I asked. ‘We can’t run any faster than we have on other afternoons, and, anyway, it doesn’t matter how fast I run ‒ I never get done. Even if I was jet-propelled Sister and Bennings would still chase me with their eternal, “Get on, Nurse Standing.” So why worry?’

  Josephine agreed that I was not the worrying type. ‘But we’ve got eleven men going down to the theatre this afternoon.’

  ‘Eleven!’ I gaped at her. ‘Where are they coming from? We’re full ‒ and all with post-op. men.’

  She said Sister had come in to discuss the afternoon’s list with Bennings when she was serving breakfasts. ‘There’s to be a general post this morning. Our semi-convalescents like Higgins are moving to Albert, and we’re taking the men who’ve been resting in Albert over the week-end.’

  ‘I’m not losing Higgins? Oh, no, Josephine! And I never even said good-bye to him.’

  She said she had meant to tell me over cocoa, but had forgotten. ‘I think Francis Adams this afternoon will be just like Piccadilly Circus in the rush-hour ‒ so I’m going to rest my two feet.’

  I turned to Angela. ‘And you want to take me for a brisk morning’s shopping? My love, I’d be nuts to come.’

  She said coolly, ‘So what? Everyone knows you’re nuts, Rose. Of course you’ll come.’ And of course I did.

  We had a frantic and hilarious morning in the West End. She bought not one, but two, hats, and promised to lend me either if ever I had a heavy date.

  I thanked her warmly. ‘Though I can’t see myself ever having time to be dated.’ And as we ran down the escalator to our tube train I told her about Bennings’s love-life. ‘That’s years ahead for us, and the hats’ll be out of fashion then. Junior pros. don’t exist. We may have to be seen’ ‒ we shot round the corner and galloped up the straight tunnel towards our platform ‒ ‘but not noticed or heard.’

  Angela puffed slightly. ‘I’ve been thinking. Have you’ ‒ we leapt on to the train as the doors were closing ‒ ‘stopped breaking things yet?’

  ‘I’m getting better.’ I fanned myself with one of the bags containing a hat apiece. ‘I’ve not broken a vase for two days, and I only dropped the enamel bowls in the sluice this morning. No one was about, luckily, and they didn’t break ‒ one of them chipped.’

  ‘How’s Josephine getting on? She breaking things?’

  ‘Not she. She’s really good. I’ll bet our Josephine ends up with a medal. She’s got only one thought in her head.’

  Angela looked at me a little curiously. ‘But, Rose, surely ‒’ She could not go on, as we had to change trains then, and when we were in the next train we had forgotten that former subject. I remembered about it later, and meant to ask Angela what she had been about to say, then forgot directly and never asked her.

  We arrived back in our Home with ten minutes to spare before we were due on duty. Home Sister was in the hall. ‘Have you nurses had lunch?’

  Angela replied quickly, ‘Yes, thank you, Sister,’ and pushed me into the lift. ‘Coffee and buns at eleven,’ she murmured as she slammed the gates, ‘are called “lunch” in many circles. It was only a pale grey lie.’

  There was no time to discuss ethics; so I merely nodded and pulled off my gloves and coat in preparation for the quick change into uniform we were both about to perform. Five minutes later we were back in the lift and sailing downward.

  I reached the outer door of Francis Adams as the hospital clock chimed one.

  Josephine was waiting anxiously in the changing-room, ‘Rose, what happened? You weren’t at lunch.’

  I could not reply, as Bennings was behind me. ‘Do you probationers intend to spend the entire afternoon chatting in here, or are you considering coming on duty? If you are may I remind you that it is two minutes past one o’clock and you should have reported at one?’

  We apologized, and she gave us our afternoon’s work. ‘Nurse Standing, will you do the ward routine? Nurse Forbes, Sister wishes you to go down to the theatre with all our cases. Come with me and I shall tell you what you must do.’

  Josephine had not been wrong when she said that that afternoon in Francis Adams was going to resemble Piccadilly Circus in the rush-hour. The traffic was phenomenal; but, unlike street traffic, it never jammed. The theatre stretcher-trolley came and went; one man was sent down; another prepared; a third was ready waiting; the first man returned to his bed again ‒ and all before I realized that bed was empty. Bennings moved like lightning from bed to bed. I had never seen her working under pressure before; her brilliant efficiency filled me with respect and admiration. She gave pre-medication injections, filled hot-water bottles, made postoperative beds, checked each man before he left for the theatre, seeing that he was properly prepared, checked constantly each of the returned cases, supervised all I did, dealt with all telephone inquiries, and throughout kept an eye on Sister, who was escorting one of the constant teaching rounds and might require something from her staff nurse.

  These rounds I now accepted as so much a part of the normal afternoon ward routine that I scarcely saw the crowd of silent young men who moved so slowly from bed to bed. Once I noticed them properly, because I had to wait behind the trolley from which I was laying the afternoon teas, as I could not push my trolley through the ranks, who were now standing with their backs to me. As I waited for someone to notice my trolley I counted the heads for something to do. There were thirty-one students round that particular bed; but the ward was so silent that the sound of the consultant surgeon’s lowered voice hummed round the ward with the hum of a drowsy bee on a summer’s afternoon.

  Someone touched my arm. Josephine was beside me. She looked very hot. Her face was pink, her dark hair plastered to her forehead.

  ‘Bennings wants you ‒ now.’

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘List over already?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m to do the routine instead of you. Get on.’

  Sister overheard our whispers and, turning, frowned us to silence; so I could not ask Josephine about the theatre. I had not yet seen any operation, and this was her first day there. I handed over my trolley; the young men noticed the movement and the trolley, and shifted to allow Josephine room to pass.

  Bennings was waiting by Bed 18. She smiled at the man lying in that bed. ‘Back in a minute, Roberts.’ She jerked her head meaningly at the door. ‘Just a moment, Nurse Standing.’

  I followed her to the door, curiously. As soon as we reached it she stopped. ‘You haven’t been to the theatre yet, have you?’

  ‘No, Nurse.’

  She hesitated. ‘I suppose I must send you down. Roberts must leave in a couple of minutes. He’s next on the list.�
� She hesitated again. ‘I didn’t want it to work out this way ‒ Roberts is going to be a long case ‒ and I should have preferred Nurse Forbes to carry straight on now she’s used to it; but, as she didn’t feel well during the last case, I can’t send her back again, and you’re my only spare junior.’ She looked me over doubtfully, then asked simply, ‘Do you faint easily?’

  I said, ‘I’ve never fainted in my life, Nurse. But ‒’

  ‘You’ve never been through with a theatre case?’

  ‘No, Nurse.’

  She sighed. ‘This would be Erith’s afternoon off. Well! There’s nothing else to be done, so you’ll just have to cope, Nurse Standing.’ She told me in detail what I should be expected to do. ‘And, above all, remember ‒ Roberts is scared stiff. So, no matter what you feel inside you, pretend to be quite confident. He’s had his pre-med, and it’ll take effect soon, but his morale needs boosting. You’ve got to do that for him while he’s waiting. Understand?’

  My mouth felt rather dry. ‘Yes, Nurse.’

  ‘Right. Then let’s get back to him.’

  When we returned to Roberts in Bed 18 she gave him another of her rare and attractive smiles. ‘This is Nurse Standing, who is going to go down to the theatre with you, Roberts. Nurse will stay with you all the time, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. The doctor will give you another injection in your arm when you reach the theatre, and that will send you straight off to sleep. When you wake up it will be all over and you’ll be back here. Nurse Standing will look after you while you are asleep, and come back here with you.’

  The theatre porter was waiting with the trolley. He was a tiny man with a wrinkled monkey face. Bennings had told me that the theatre porters were absolutely reliable. ‘They will know exactly what to do if anything goes wrong on the way down or back; do what they tell you and you’ll be all right.’

  The porter patted Roberts’s feet sympathetically as he tucked the top blanket over the stretcher. ‘You’ll be fine, mate,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Me and the nurse’ll be there to hold your hand.’