An Unsuitable Mother

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘Aye, and I’ll bet you’ll give me the pair that has the trunk attached,’ joked Beata, seemingly content to have made her friend happy, as both went off to their wards.

  It was good that they could laugh, for Nell doubted there would be much opportunity under Sister Pike if that first encounter was anything to go by. As yet, their working patterns had not concurred, but now, as the shifts were rotated, as was the norm, it was inevitable that they came under her regime.

  Whatever the sacrifices, it would be some weeks yet before Nell could purchase those new shoes for which she had been saving. Having changed from her wellingtons into her tattered footwear, she was set to begin a new day shift when her shabby demeanour was pounced upon by Sister Pike.

  ‘A tramp, an absolute tramp!’ she lashed Nell, who was forced to hang her head and take the abuse. ‘Immediately you’ve done backs and prepared the trolley for Doctor’s rounds, you can go home and change them!’

  Released to begin her duties, Nell hurried away to fetch a bowl of water with which to sponge down the first of twenty or more bedridden patients, being her usual gentle and cheerful self as she checked for pressure sores, trying to hide her underlying worry about the shoes. Perhaps Sister would have forgotten about it by the time this was done, thought Nell, powdering the patient’s skin, then just as quickly she mocked herself, for Pike had obviously not forgotten their first encounter. Never having given way to the temptation of using one bowl for all – not out of fear, but conscientiousness – all the tipping out and refilling seemed to take a lot longer today, as she wondered how to tell Sister that she had no shoes to change into.

  After finishing backs, she rushed off to set a trolley with all the instruments that the doctor might need for his rounds. It was then that she was pulled up and reminded of the order.

  Faced with the prospect of being exposed to that inclement weather, Nell gave an apologetic but helpless shrug. ‘I’m sorry, Sister, I’ve nothing to change into. These are my only pair. I’ve been saving for new ones, but –’

  ‘I will not hear excuses! The rest of us manage to look presentable; so can you! And I refuse to have such a ragamuffin on my ward. Now go and buy some if you have to, but do not return until you are suitably attired!’

  ‘And be quick about it!’ Sister bayed in afterthought as Nell fled.

  Thanking heaven that she was not working on a fever ward, or then she would have had to change out of her uniform too, Nell put on her coat and boots, thinking better of donning her trousers, for that would surely spell trouble – but oh how the tops of her legs were to perish in that icy wind.

  First she slithered home along impacted snow, all the way along Huntington Road, onwards to Monkgate, off which branched the Groves, there to collect what money and coupons she had saved, before tottering and skidding to the nearest shoe shop, which was thankfully not too much further on. It was a poor little shop, its meagre display of footwear lit by candlelight. But with her body stiff with cold, Nell was grateful of any harbour, and strung out her visit for as long as she dared in an effort to thaw her frozen marrow. When all was said and done, though, with insufficient funds, she was only able to afford a very basic pair made of stiff leather, which she knew from experience was false economy, and would render her almost crippled by the end of the day. But purchase them she must, then she began her trek along the frozen mile or more back to the hospital.

  Naturally there was rebuke for the amount of time it had taken, and the threat of her wages being docked. Then, a cursory flick of the wrist from Sister Pike signified that the properly clad nurse was fit to continue with her work – though on no account was that an end to the haranguing, for within half an hour the enemy was strafing her again, this time for having the temerity to voice an opinion on one of the patients who had been admitted with enteritis.

  ‘Sister, I’m beginning to think Mr Callow might have an intestinal blockage …’

  ‘Are you a doctor?’ demanded the imperious Pike. ‘No! You are not even a qualified nurse. It is not your place to make diagnoses! Kindly do not overstep your limitations again!’

  And Nell was forced to withdraw. But she was to remain worried about Mr Callow, and thereafter, even with so much else to do, she was to keep a close watch on him during the following hours.

  Within those hours, alas, she was to be castigated yet again by the sister, for overtaking her at speed.

  ‘I do apologise, Sister,’ said Nell, not in any way panicked, yet eager to be away with her bowl of water. ‘But we’ve an emergenc—’

  ‘It will be an emergency if anyone should slip on that water you are so keen to spill! Now calm down and try to adopt some degree of professionalism!’

  Nell had remained calm, but it was hard not to lose her temper. ‘It’s Mr Callow –’

  ‘Not him again! How many times do I have to tell you?’

  Intimidated though she felt, Nell was determined her patient would receive help. ‘I strongly urge you to come and see him, please, Sister.’

  Sister Pike uttered a gasp. ‘If you are so incompetent as to be unable to handle it. I suppose I must!’ And, pacing ahead of Nell, she went along to the ward, where, when the screen was pulled aside, it was plain to see that Mr Callow was in dire straits, for he was vomiting what appeared to be excrement.

  Giving a little ‘Oh …’, Sister went immediately to the telephone and informed the doctor. Alas, by the time Mr Callow was prepared to be taken to the operating theatre, he was in extremis.

  ‘The time that was wasted in trying to convince her!’ moaned Nell to her friends upon meeting them at lunchtime, though unable to stomach much food herself. ‘Too busy telling me I’m not qualified – I know very well I’m not qualified, people have been throwing that at me for years, but I thought I’d served enough time by now not to be taken for an idiot!’

  ‘You’ve got instinct,’ said Jean Wintringham, who was state-registered herself but never a snob. ‘That’s something we don’t all possess, and no amount of exams can supply. Just remember that when she’s treating you like muck.’

  ‘Thanks, Wince.’ Nell showed deep gratitude, then her face suddenly puckered and she went off at a tangent. ‘God, these shoes are absolutely killing me!’ She took one off to examine her blistered heel, then twisted the leather this way and that in an attempt to soften it. ‘They’re so stiff, I’m sure they’re made of rhinoceros hide – but shoes are one thing, patients are another! That poor man.’ Her eyes brimmed with angry tears. ‘I tried to tell her it was more serious than she made out. Perhaps she’ll take me a little more seriously from now on.’

  But if Nell had been expecting some sort of apology, some acknowledgement that she had been right all along, it was not to be granted. The best she received was slight lenience from Sister Pike, who chose not to pick so much fault with her during the rest of the afternoon. However, Pike was to maintain her starchy attitude, and it was a very difficult shift, without any form of camaraderie to rely on.

  Limping home through yet another cascade of snow some twelve hours later, her blisters rubbed away to expose raw flesh and made even more painful by the overlarge wellingtons, and the heels of her stockings caked in dried blood, Nell tried to rally her spirits by reminding herself that Sister Barber had been similarly voracious at first. Admittedly, it was dispiriting to be treated again like a junior after so many years of experience, and yes, much of the criticism was unjust – for apart from the shoes the rest of her appearance was scrupulously clean and neat – but she must give this newcomer the benefit of the doubt. For at least Sister Pike had acted upon Mr Callow’s situation once she had been apprised of the emergency. She would probably mellow in time, and besides, they would not always work together. But oh dear, Nell could not help sighing to herself, as she sank her injured feet into a bowl of hot water by the fire, the hours on day shift would seem very long indeed with no laughter to lighten them.

  The next day turned out to be equally horrendous. Despite her
heels being padded with sticking plasters, it was still painful to hobble about, and on top of all her normal duties – bathing patients, filling in charts, sluicing soiled linen, taking temperatures, pulses and throat swabs, testing urine, changing dressings – there was again much disparagement to bear too.

  Still four hours away from the end of her shift, Nell found herself hungry for home, something she had not felt for many years, for she had always been happiest at work. She still could be, if Sister Pike were not so harsh. But then, mulled Nell, it was understandable that she would want to stamp her own mark. Whatever the reason, Nell accepted that they were going to have to work together. Seeking to motivate a better relationship, in preparation of days to follow, she limped to her superior’s office, knocked, and waited for permission before entering.

  ‘Sister, I was just going to make Nurse Kilmaster and myself a cup of tea, would you like to join us?’

  But the hard-boiled face was unmoved by Nell’s friendly smile, as it glanced up from the notes and announced haughtily, ‘Sisters don’t drink tea with nurses. Besides, if you’re trying to get into my good books you’re going the wrong way about it. You should try being a little more efficient for a start. You’re far too keen on making cups of tea instead of looking after your patients.’

  Flushing with offence, Nell dared not argue, and started to back away.

  ‘Now you’re here, what’s the latest on Mr Wren?’

  Nell gave a progress report on the cancer patient. ‘Nurse Kilmaster’s sitting with him now, sister.’

  ‘He doesn’t require sitting with –’

  ‘I didn’t actually mean sitting,’ Nell quickly informed the pedant. ‘I meant –’

  ‘You meant gossiping,’ said the infuriating woman.

  ‘No, I mean we’re rather worried about hi—’

  Sister cut her off. ‘If the patient wants to chat he’s got no amount of neighbours who’ll entertain him. Your job is to attend to his physical needs. So long as all are comfortable there’s no need for any nurse to dally around the beds. I’ve also noticed that the tiles in the sluice have been neglected –’

  Not by me, simmered Nell.

  ‘Before you even think of making yourself tea, you can both go and scour them,’ ordered Sister. And she lowered her unforgiving eyes back to her notes: an act of dismissal.

  Lips compressed, Nell marched off to deliver the edict, complaining vehemently to her fellow nurse, ‘Too keen on drinking tea and gossiping indeed! I’ve been run off my feet since she arrived.’

  Beata responded with her usual pragmatism, as both limped to comply with the order. ‘We got spoiled under Sister Barber. It was always that way in the big houses, too, parlour maids didn’t drink with Cook …’

  ‘I’m unconcerned at not being allowed to drink with the bloody woman,’ hissed Nell from the side of her mouth. ‘I just don’t know how I’m going to get through this set of day shifts with such a lack of respect. Why, she’s treating us worse than prisoners of war!’

  Still much aggrieved over the insult, even days later, and on top of all the others that had been hurled at her since, Nell began to doubt herself, and to think that perhaps there was some truth in what Sister Pike said. As much to seek verification as to initiate dialogue, she was to enquire of the elderly resident whose leg ulcer she was attending, ‘Do you think I’m neglectful, Mrs O’Hara?’

  The owner of the liver-coloured ankle cocked her moustachioed face as if she had misheard, and said in a hoarse voice, ‘Who?’

  ‘Me. Sister says I drink too much tea and I neglect my patients.’ With firm but gentle ministrations, Nell applied the compression bandage.

  ‘You? Never! You’re a lot nicer to us than her ladyship. She’s not going to drive you away, is she?’ The croaky old voice sounded pessimistic.

  ‘I love being here,’ said Nell, finally elevating Mrs O’Hara’s leg with a pillow. ‘But she’s making my life a misery.’

  ‘Here, have one of my goodies, love.’ With great deliberation, the old lady shifted her buttocks and produced a fiercely guarded bag.

  ‘No, you shall have one of mine.’ Nell was always swift to share her own ration with the patients, though not wholly out of kindness, being aware that many of the incontinent ones stashed their sweets under the bedclothes all night. ‘But just wait till I’ve disposed of your old dressing or I’ll get another telling off.’

  After going to the incinerator and washing her hands, she returned with the promised bag. ‘Hurry and take one before Pikey catches us.’ Then, with Mrs O’Hara sucking on a pastille, she quickly handed them out to those nearby, the ones who could appreciate them anyway, all having a good moan about Sister Pike in the meantime as they dipped into Nell’s bag.

  ‘Shouldn’t I get one?’

  Nell swirled at the accusation from Sister Pike. ‘Just going, Sis—’

  ‘Not before you’ve given me a sweetie!’ It was as if someone had had a word in Sister Pike’s ear – as if she were a totally different person, in fact – for she was actually cheerful as she came to delve into the bag. ‘Hope there’s a black one – oh, good! May I have that?’ And to Nell’s astonished nod, she popped it into her mouth and made much of it as she went around beaming at everyone. ‘Is Nurse Spottiswood treating you all well?’

  Everyone sang Nell’s praises, except for Mrs Dolan who uttered demented howls, but only because she had lost the power of speech.

  ‘Good!’ said Sister Pike. ‘Then I can safely leave you in her competent hands.’ And away she sailed, leaving Nell to gape.

  Scarcely able to believe the change in her, Nell spent the rest of the day waiting for Pike to find fault. But no, she was as nice as pie. As indeed she turned out to be the day after that too.

  Then, lo and behold, she was back to her sarcastic self again, finding fault with something that had been to her completely satisfaction only the day before, telling Nell off for doing things that were beyond an enrolled nurse, even though she had previously stood and watched her do it, and generally making everyone’s life a misery.

  ‘I just can’t fathom her!’ fumed Nell to other colleagues, after yet another example of this strange behaviour.

  ‘Nor me,’ agreed all of them, Beata adding, ‘but I feel a bit sorry for her –’

  ‘You would, Mrs Goodheart!’ she was told.

  ‘No, I think it must have been the heat out in India or some bad experience there that’s made her so odd,’ explained Beata.

  ‘Potty, you mean,’ said a grim-faced Wintringham. ‘You never know where you are with her. Well, I’m not putting up with it, I’m off.’

  And this seemed to goad others into action, staff resigning in droves, which only exacerbated the problem for Nell and Beata, for it left them with more work to do. Even with probationers replacing those who had left, this was of no assistance, in fact it made more work for they had frequently to be supervised. And all the time there was Sister’s voice accosting her.

  ‘Nurse Spottiswood!’

  Nell flinched, and, though it turned out to be Matron who had summoned her today, as she was hurrying to the sluice with a bedpan, she remained on tenterhooks, for that official savaging over the Dive at Dawn episode had been quite enough.

  ‘I don’t wish to interrupt your duties,’ said Matron, in the no-nonsense manner that Nell had come to expect. ‘But I’d be obliged if you’d answer a question for me.’

  Only slightly less tense, Nell replied that of course she would.

  ‘Why do you think so many staff are leaving us lately?’

  Taken completely by surprise, Nell’s first instinct was to tell the truth. But remembering Beata’s opinion that something awful must have happened to Pike to make her like this, and considering that Beata was usually right, she thought it better left unsaid. For if Matron knew how disruptive the new sister had been, she would not hesitate to throw her out. As much as she abominated Pike herself, Nell would not want to be responsible for putting someone on the d
ole. Rather she be the one to leave than descend to such tactics. And so, as much as she would have liked to grasp this chance to rid herself of her bête noire, her reply now was innocent. ‘I’ve really no idea, Matron.’

  Matron missed nothing. ‘It seems to me that prior to Sister Pike’s arrival, all you nurses got along like a house on fire. Is that not the case now?’

  ‘Oh yes, we still get along,’ said Nell, hoping this half-truth would suffice.

  Matron could see she would receive no tales here. ‘Very well, Nurse Spottiswood, thank you for your time.’ And with that she directed Nell on her way.

  ‘You bloody clot,’ complained a less generous colleague, when later an astonished Nell divulged this exchange over refreshments. ‘One word from you and we could have been shot of her!’

  And indeed, Nell was rather inclined to regret her own reticence after enduring more weeks of being verbally abused.

  ‘I’m all for showing someone understanding, Killie,’ she muttered through tight lips, as she caught Beata up in the corridor, having barely spoken to her for days and grabbing this chance to pace alongside her. ‘But we can’t go on letting her trample all over us.’

  ‘She’s par for the course, love,’ said Beata, narrowly escaping injury from a swing door that had been let go by the person in front. ‘Like that one.’

  ‘Who does he think he bloody well is, lord of the manor?’ Nell glowered at Doctor Barker, who had become too full of his own self-importance to heed the two nurses behind him. It hadn’t taken him long to go the way of the other medical staff, one minute asking her on a date, the next ignoring her. ‘Treating us like serfs – God, what a day I’ve had!’ she declared, marching alongside her friend again. ‘I hope the plumbing’s fixed by the time I get home, the last thing I need is having to lug pails of water over the glaciers after all the horse-work I have to put up with in here.’ As at countless other households, Mrs Connell’s pipes had burst under the Alaskan temperatures, and Nell had felt obligated to tote water from a neighbouring house, in return for the kindly donation of the wellingtons. ‘Actually, can you do me a –’