The most wonderful wave of relief I had ever experienced swept over me. I was not in dire disgrace or about to be dismissed from Martin’s; I was merely going on nights. I was too grateful at this respite to feel any disappointment yet about missing Christmas in Cas.
Matron explained the reason for my transfer.
‘Nurse Sharp, the present junior, has just been admitted to Nightingale with influenza. Margaret, being a very heavy medical ward, requires a permanent night junior. Night Sister cannot be expected to manage by borrowing junior nurses from the other wards to tide matters over; she must have a proper substitute.’ She smoothed her organdie cuffs and smiled at me again. ‘It will be excellent medical experience for you, Nurse, and make a complete change from the first-aid and administrative experience you have been gaining in Casualty. I have explained the situation to Sister Casualty. Sister is going to send you to first lunch and then off duty for the remainder of the day. Go over to your room after lunch and pack your belongings; Home Sister will arrange for them to be moved to your new room in the night-nurses’ home this evening. You must be in bed by three o’clock this afternoon. Try to sleep. You have a busy night ahead of you. Is that all quite clear?’
‘Yes, thank you, Matron.’
She inclined her head, and the lace frills on her cap swayed.
‘That will be all, Nurse. I hope you have a pleasant Christmas in Margaret ward. It will not, naturally, be the merry Christmas you would have had in Casualty, but I know that now you are aware of the circumstances you will be quite content with the knowledge that you are being transferred at such short notice because your presence is necessary to the comfort of the patients. That comfort is ever our one consideration.’ She nodded at the door. ‘Close it quietly when you go out, please, Nurse Standing.’
When I returned to Casualty, Sister’s genuine sympathy made me feel hollow with guilt. ‘It is a shame that you have to move to-day, Nurse. I am really sorry that you should miss our party after all the work you have done for it. Come and see us on Christmas morning if you are not too tired. And, as you are now leaving my department, Nurse,’ she continued gravely, ‘I will tell you, as I tell all the nurses who pass through my hands, of the report I am going to make on you to Matron.’
I braced myself. ‘Yes, Sister. Thank you.’
She smiled faintly. ‘You would do better to wait until you hear what I have to say before you thank me, Nurse.’ Then she allowed herself to smile properly. ‘It is all right, Nurse. I am quite pleased with your work and your conduct in Casualty. You have made several mistakes ‒ one very serious one; but you have tried to improve, and I can understand that at your age and with your somewhat light-hearted temperament it is not always easy to take life and your work seriously. But I am going to tell Matron that your work is showing some improvement, and I know she will not expect more than that from any nurse at this early stage of her career. Now, be off to your lunch, and good luck in Margaret. I think you will enjoy working there. Medical wards are pleasant places, and medical patients really need nursing.’
I did not understand that last remark, but did not like to question her. I was now not only feeling guilty, but stricken with remorse. She could not have been nicer ‒ and what would she not have said had she known about last night! There was now no doubt that Josephine had been right: Jake must be keeping this to himself, which was incredible and wonderful and disturbing. And then I thought, not incredible at all. He is such a nice man; and nice people do things like that.
Angela was already in the dining-room when I got there. I sat down beside her. ‘Angie, I’ve left Cas.’
She choked over her glass of water. ‘Rose!’ she gasped as I banged her back. ‘You’ve not been thrown out?’
‘No! Isn’t it wonderful!’ I beamed at her scarlet face. ‘I’m on nights to-night. Matron says someone called Sharp ‒’
‘Matron?’ she interrupted me anxiously. ‘Rose ‒ he did report you?’
‘If you’ll only listen, honey,’ I said soothingly, ‘you won’t have to choke again. No. He can’t have reported me to anyone. I’ve seen Matron and Sister Cas. this morning, and neither of them said one word about it. But there’s a crisis on in Margaret, and as the one wardless pro. I’m the answer.’
‘Answer to what?’ Josephine sat down on my other side. ‘What have you done now, Rose?’
‘It’s not what I’ve done but what I’m going to do. I’m on nights in Margaret to-night.’ And I repeated what I had just told Angela.
Josephine was delighted for me. ‘Rose, what a stroke of luck! It gets you out of Cas. before you can put your foot in it again ‒ and will keep you out of Bill’s way. The surgeons don’t go near Margaret. It’s Martha, plus. You’ll see nothing but physicians for the next three months. Aren’t you thrilled?’
I had intentionally avoided looking at the change from that angle. It had occurred to me directly Matron mentioned Margaret, but in her office I had been too relieved at discovering what the interview was about to worry over anything else. The moment I got outside her office I had realized that in Margaret on night-duty I should see nothing at all of Jake. And by the time I came off nights he might very likely have left the hospital.
‘Aren’t you thrilled?’ demanded Josephine again. ‘You ought to be. Don’t look so glum. This really is a break with a vengeance.’
‘I know.’ I assumed a wide smile. ‘And of course I’m thrilled. I can’t believe my good luck. I do think it best that I should leave Cas. quickly. I’m only a little gloomy at the thought of missing Christmas in Cas. and that party. I was longing to see the S.M.O. shoot in in his jet.’
Josephine said that, if it was any consolation, from what she had heard of Margaret I would not have a spare second to remember the date once I got there. ‘Sister Martha was saying only this morning that Margaret is now the heaviest ward in the hospital. But there’s Gill Grey’ ‒ the junior Matron had mentioned to me and another member of our set ‒ ‘she’ll know more. Gill,’ she called down the table, ‘what’s Margaret like at night?’
Gill Grey was a plump, phlegmatic North Country girl. ‘Why? Who’s coming on nights?’
‘I am. To-night. What’s it like, Gill?’
For the second time she evaded the question. ‘What’s up with Sharp?’
‘She’s got ’flu. I’m taking her place.’
‘Then, if I were you, love,’ replied Gill grimly, ‘I’d get the ’flu too ‒ or the measles. Either would be a piece of cake compared to night-life in Margaret, so Sharp’s given me to understand.’
I said, ‘Gill, it’s not as bad as all that?’
She nodded calmly. ‘Aye. It would be. But you’ll find out, Rose.’
I closed my eyes. ‘I can hardly wait.’
‘Nurse Standing!’ Home Sister called to me sharply from her seat at the head of our table. ‘You are not yet a night-nurse. Will you kindly remain awake at meals until you become one? Thank you.’
Sister Casualty had been kind enough to say she was sorry to see me leave her department at this period; that night I discovered that Sister Margaret also had her regrets. She announced very frankly that she was extremely sorry to see me in her ward. ‘I do dislike sudden changes of staff, Nurse. They are so upsetting for my patients; particularly on the night before Christmas Eve. And I understand’ ‒ her eyebrows met over her nose ‒ ‘that this is your first night-duty, Nurse Standing?’
I said, ‘Yes, Sister.’
She looked meaningly at my night senior, Nurse Jones. ‘And I also understand,’ she continued, ‘that you have not previously worked in a medical ward, Nurse Standing?’
I said, ‘No, Sister.’
She looked me over and did not appear to find pleasure in what she saw. ‘You have recently been working in Casualty?’
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘And what were you doing in Casualty?’ she demanded. ‘You are very junior to have worked in that department.’
I walked in to that o
ne. ‘I don’t know, Sister.’
She took me up at once. ‘So you do not know what you have been doing for the past three months, Nurse? Indeed? I must say, you are going to be a lot of use to me if you are capable of spending three months in a department without discovering what you were supposed to be doing! Allow me to tell you, Nurse, that I expect every nurse in my ward to be able to account intelligently for every minute she spends on duty.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Yes, Sister.’
She thrust a large cardboard diagnosis list at me and told me to take the seat opposite to her own at her table. ‘Keep your eyes on that list, child, and try to follow the report I am about to give Nurse Jones. You will possibly not understand a word I say, but sit still and listen.’ She pushed back the chair next to her own. ‘Sit down, Nurse Jones, and I’ll get on. We have had a very heavy day, and how you are going to cope to-night with all these ill women and a brand-new junior I cannot conceive. However, as there is nothing to be done about it, you will just have to manage.’
Nurse Jones sat down. ‘I expect we will, Sister,’ she replied mildly. ‘Thank you.’ She folded her hands in her lap and tilted her head slightly to one side to listen to the day report.
Sister’s table stood in the centre of the long, silent, dimly lighted ward. The table was partially hidden behind red screens at night; the light above the table had been pulled right down to the extent of the flex; it hung only a few inches above the lace in Sister’s cap. The china shade of the lamp was covered with a red shade-cover ‒ the same red as the screens, and the two women opposite and myself were bathed in a soft rose-coloured glow. I had not met either Sister Margaret or Nurse Jones until ten minutes ago, and as Sister read her long, detailed report I glanced up from my list every now and then to see what they both looked like.
I decided that it was just as well to see Sister Margaret in a rose-coloured light. One look at her explained why Gill had said ’flu or measles would be preferable to night-life here. I guessed her to be in the late thirties or early forties. She had short thick ginger hair, a square jaw, pale complexion, and thin, pale lips. Her eyes were her redeeming feature. They were not large, but beautifully shaped, deep brown in colour, and her lashes were as thick, dark, and long as Bill Martin’s. She was a tall woman and she had the good figure that all modern hospital sisters seem to acquire with their blue dresses. She was really a very striking woman in a spine-chilling way.
There was nothing at all striking about Nurse Jones. She was small and thin; her complexion was not good, and her features too irregular to approach moderate prettiness. Yet somehow her whole appearance was attractively homely. She wore a hospital badge and a fourth-year belt, which showed she was over the final-examination hurdle and a State Registered Nurse. I should have been surprised at finding a nurse so senior on night duty as a ward nurse had not my fellow night juniors at supper told me that Margaret had even been known to have a permanent staff nurse in charge at night. ‘It’s such a busy ward that Matron only sends very senior girls there. As Jones is in her fourth year, she would normally be free of nights for good, but she’s doing an extra spell to oblige. She doesn’t mind what she does for her last couple of months, as she’s leaving to get married directly her contract finishes. Of course, if she wasn’t leaving she’d be a staff nurse for sure, as Matron thinks a lot of her ‒ and she won the bronze medal in her hospital finals.’
The prospect of working with a medallist did not cheer me. I remembered Bennings and her gold medal only too well. I asked the question that is all-important when you are going to work with the same person for at least two months. ‘What’s Jones like to get on with?’
The night juniors said they had heard from Sharp that Jones wasn’t too bad. The girl next to me said she thought Jones was considered fussy over details. ‘But she’s a good worker and the best thing about her, according to Sharp, is that Sister Margaret likes and trusts her. You really run into trouble on nights when the ward sister and your senior don’t hit it off. Then it’s hell on earth; every report is agony, as the sister does nothing but pick holes in what the night girls have done.’
I asked, ‘Do we see much of the ward sisters? I thought Night Sister ran us at night?’
‘So she does, during the night and in the Night Home. But you have to face the ward sisters every morning and evening. That can be a lot of meetings. But, of course, the brunt of the night is born by the senior. She has to answer to sister and carry your mistakes as well as her own.’
I said I was glad to hear Jones wasn’t considered too bad.
‘Must be tricky if you’re thrown with someone with whom you can’t get on.’
‘Not tricky at all,’ replied my neighbour placidly. ‘Night juniors have to get on with their seniors, and that’s all there is to it. It’s part of the job of being a night stooge, like counting laundry and cutting bread-and-butter.’
I thought about this as I risked another glance at Jones, and saw she was summing me up as I was summing up her. Her expression was curious but not unfriendly. I decided I liked the look of Jones. I shot another glance at Sister Margaret and decided to try to acquire some of Gill Grey’s North-country phlegm ‒ and to give my full attention to the diagnosis list.
When Sister had finished her report, without looking up from her log-book, she demanded to know of the pages whether the new night junior intended to sit at her table all night.
I bounced up. ‘No, Sister.’
She said she was glad to hear it. ‘Go and put the milk on to heat, Nurse; then set the kitchen for the night. Nurse Jones will be ready for you directly. And mind you do not burn the milk. I do not allow milk to be burned in my ward.’
‘No, Sister. Thank you.’ I walked as quietly and as quickly as I could towards the ward door.
I was not quiet enough. Sister called me back.
‘Nurse Standing, I also do not allow a herd of elephants to run rampant in my ward. Kindly tread more softly in future.’
In an effort to do the right thing, I replied in a whisper, ‘Yes, Sister. I’m sorry, Sister.’
That was the wrong thing. She asked if she was whispering.
‘No, Sister.’
‘Then why do you do it, Nurse? Perhaps you feel you know more about such matters than I?’
‘No, Sister. I’m sorry. Sister.’
She said, if that was the case, would I be good enough to learn to modulate my voice to the right flat pitch for night-duty. ‘The tone I am using does not carry as a whisper would do, nor is it so irritating to the patients. I do not allow my patients to be irritated, Nurse Standing. Now go and do those drinks.’
I said flatly, and thankfully, ‘Yes, Sister,’ and tiptoed out of the ward as quickly as I dared.
I took another deep breath when I reached the kitchen without being called back, filled the milk saucepan, lit the gas, and put the milk on to heat. I recollected how the night junior in Francis laid out an assortment of cocoa, tea, coffee, meat extracts, sugar, glucose, and so on, and arranged the various tins in a straight line on the dresser, then set the large wooden tea-trolley with thirty-six cups and saucers.
Jones came in as I added the teaspoons. ‘You can’t use that trolley at night, Nurse; it’s far too noisy. You must always set everything on a tray covered with a cloth or the cups will rattle.’ She laid a small tray rapidly. ‘Like this. And don’t put the spoons in the saucers for the same reason; leave them on the cloth until you need them. Noise is the one thing we don’t have at night; anything that may possibly make a clatter or clash is out, even if it does mean extra work. And be very, very quiet when you are working in here during the night. Make sure that serving-hatch’ ‒ she gestured to the hatch that opened into the ward ‒ ‘is closed when you are in here alone. If for some odd reason we are both in here for more than a couple of seconds then it has to be open, as we can’t otherwise hear the patients. Now’ ‒ she removed the milk from the gas ‒ ‘as you’re new, I’ll help you with your drinks to-
night and take you round at the same time. When we’ve settled the women we’ll go through the report together, but that won’t be until much later, when the men and Night Sister have done their rounds. The rounds are my concern; all you really need to know at this stage is that you must not make a noise, and you must never, ever, attempt to lift anyone up in bed by yourself. We’ve a lot of acute cardiacs in here, and they must not help themselves. If you attempt to move them alone they’ll insist on helping you and harm themselves; so remember, whatever else you may forget, don’t forget to come and get me every time anyone wants heaving up the bed. Got that? Good. Then let’s get going.’
We got going and we did not stop all night. The only time I sat down was during my meal-hour in the dining-room. Jones gave me her promised run-through the report, in writing. ‘Read it while you eat your meal, Nurse. I had a feeling we wouldn’t have time to talk it over, so I wrote it in bed this morning when I heard Nurse Sharp had been warded. I’ll try and elaborate on it another night, but it will help you to get a general idea of what’s wrong with our ladies, the treatments they are getting, and why.’
At five in the morning Jones cheerfully announced that it was time to start work. ‘Finished your routine? Good. Then let’s,’ she repeated, ‘get going.’
Jones switched on the ward lights; I carried in the early-morning tea, handed out cups to those who could feed themselves, and held the feeders of tea for the eight women who were too ill to hold a feeding-cup to their own lips. Then I helped Jones with her washing of the very ill women, and gave out washing waters to the remainder ‒ about half the ward. Between assisting Jones I scampered round with mouth-wash mugs, empty cups, used washing-bowls, stripped and made beds; collected used mouth-wash mugs and kidney dishes; made more beds; removed the screens from the centre table; tidied the table and refilled the ink-wells; removed shade-covers; pushed up fights; tidied the rows of wheel-chairs and the centre of the ward; cleared treatment trolleys; boiled used kidney dishes in the sterilizers, then removed them from the sterilizers and switched off the electricity so that they might be cool when the day juniors came to clean them; pulled all the beds away from the walls so that the ward-maid might sweep behind them, then pushed them all back again, clicking the castors correctly inward; replaced sponge-bags; used night-dresses, bed-jackets, and biscuit-tins in lockers; fluffed pillows that had become flattened since we made the beds; and then, suddenly, the ward was full of day nurses, and Jones told me to go and change my apron.
The First Year Page 19