An Unsuitable Mother

by Sheelagh Kelly

  When she and the night sister entered his cubicle, it was to find he had become lacklustre again, and was obviously on the verge of being sick. Nell’s superior was none too pleased at being dragged here on a whim. Being comparatively new, and unfamiliar with the nurse’s experience, she saw only the state-enrolled uniform, and relayed in condescending manner, ‘You’d better get some wool on your back before you start trying to tell others their job. He’s a classic case if ever I saw one.’

  And Nell was forced to submit to this view, for she had not the medical expertise to prove otherwise. Yet her hunch was difficult to shift, and though she had others equally sick to care for, during the following hours it was constantly to lure her back to the boy’s side, to check that she was not deluded. Whether she be right or wrong, Nell did not care, her anxiety being that his behaviour had grown progressively odd. And, unable to do anything to appease him, nor to ease his pain, it was a very long night.

  With her suspicions pooh-poohed by others, Nell was to lean on her trusted friend Beata. The latter was enjoying a few days off, before the rotation of shifts took her back on to nights, and at first she laughed when Nell turned up unexpectedly at the house in Lawrence Street that morning, joking that she could not stay away and guessing whom she had come to see. But upon hearing that Nell had actually come to speak to her about a serious matter, she paid careful heed, before promising to give her own opinion on the boy once she was back at work.

  Thirty-six hours later there came confirmation of Nell’s fears. ‘He’s never polio,’ stated Beata, as the two kept their appointed rendezvous outside the cubicle that evening.

  ‘That’s what I think!’ appealed a worried Nell, as both peered in at him. ‘So why can no one else see it?’ Reminding Beata about her visit to the night sister, she had more news to give. ‘The day staff ignored me too when I mentioned it.’

  At this point the small patient let out a wail, causing Nell’s face to collapse in despair. ‘This is what he’s been like all the time. The poor little mite’s in agony. What can we do for him, Killie?’ Then, after an anxious moment, she decided, ‘They’re more likely to listen if there are two of us pestering them. Will you come with me tomorrow morning, then we’ll both tackle Pike and the others together?’

  With Beata’s agreement, they parted, the friend scrubbing up and returning to the main building, Nell going back into the cubicle to try to pacify her fretful charge.

  ‘Poor old chap,’ she murmured tenderly, and stroked his head – but to her alarm that made him scream all the louder.

  And it suddenly dawned on her what this might be. Trying instead to soothe with her voice, she told the sobbing child how sorry she was for hurting him, but, determined to verify what she had just accidentally stumbled upon, she held him down so as to examine his head again. And that was when she found the swelling. Sick at the discovery, and the frustration of having to watch a child in agony, she scrubbed up then went straight away to find Beata again.

  ‘Oh, Killie, I think he’s got a tumour or something.’ She looked deeply concerned. ‘It’s not that obvious, but it’s definitely there – why didn’t I find it before this?’

  Beata tried to remove her look of guilt. ‘He’s got that much hair, it’d be hard to tell just from looking.’

  ‘Oh God, listen to him …’ breathed Nell. The cries were ones of agony and could be heard from afar. She wanted to cover her ears, but that would not help him. ‘I’ll have to fetch Sister – but I know she’ll refuse to listen to me.’

  The stockier figure had already set off with determination in her eye. ‘She won’t have to listen to you, she must be deaf not to hear that. I’ll go and tell her he’s keeping everyone awake, and needs to be given something.’

  Mercifully, she was to succeed where Nell had previously failed, the child being given an injection that at last allowed him to sleep. But only for a time, and Nell was to sit with him for the rest of the very long night, stroking his hand and singing to him softly, anything that might help to reduce his agonised writhing.

  * * *

  At handover the next day, joining forces with Beata, Nell made it her a priority to inform the day sister about the swelling she had found on the boy’s head, she acting as spokesman. ‘I think it might be a tumour.’

  Sister Pike was in one of her better moods this morning, though her attempt at wit was just as derogatory. ‘Oh, Doctor Spottiswood, is it? How many times have I told you not to get above yourself? The paediatrician examined him when he came in, and there was no sign of a swelling.’

  ‘Well, there is now!’ Nell’s voice began to rise. ‘He screams whenever his head’s touched.’

  ‘But he cries at us too!’ the day nurse jumped in, fearing she too would bear the brunt of Pike’s temper, her attitude as flippant as sister’s. ‘He’s just being naughty.’

  ‘It’s not naughtiness!’ Nell spluttered at her detractors. ‘He’s in agony – and if you don’t do something about it he might die within hours!’

  Beata, who had been quiet until then, spoke up and confirmed Nell’s view. ‘His head is distorted, sister. I’ve seen it.’

  ‘But have you felt it?’ demanded Pike.

  ‘I didn’t want to add to his pai –’

  ‘No, you haven’t then!’ Sister cut her off. ‘So, it’s probably a knot, with all that hair of his!’

  Whilst Nell looked about to explode, Beata remained calm, but there was an angry glint in her eye. ‘You don’t scream like that from knotted hair.’

  But still she and Nell were both met with derision. ‘He was quiet enough when I looked in on him,’ declared Sister Pike, and turned her back to do something else.

  ‘Only because he’s too weak to cry any more!’ Livid at being ignored, Nell pattered after her. ‘Sister, I’m begging you …’ She felt her eyes burn, not for her own humiliation, but at the thought of not being able to save the child. ‘Won’t you please at least let the doctor know what we’ve found, so he can come and have a look?’

  ‘Go home, Nurse Spottiswood,’ laughed Sister Pike. ‘If that child isn’t here when you get back this evening, I myself will pin a medal on your chest.’

  They discussed going over Sister Pike’s head, and taking the matter up with Matron, but that was a dangerous game, and with everyone against them, would she believe them either? As a stop-gap, and a measure of desperation, they decided to consult a friendly staff nurse, and, assuaged by her promise to take it up with the doctor if she got the chance, Nell and Beata were finally to go home.

  But the sense of helplessness and worry was to accompany them on their separate ways. Nell was to sleep little that day, and doubted that her friend could either.

  Long before she was due to begin her shift, she was back at the hospital and entering the child’s cubicle. There was little joy in seeing that he was no longer crying in agony, for in the hush Nell detected another sound, and she went to inform the day nurse who had mocked her this morning.

  ‘He’s formed a lot of mucus in his throat. Do you want me to fetch the …’ she flapped her arm in search of the word, the frustration of it all affecting her memory for even the commonplace, ‘… sucky thing?’

  The other poked fun. ‘Sucky thing? Is that a technical term?’ Then she added, ‘No, you’ll break his teeth.’

  ‘He’ll grow new teeth, but he won’t grow a new brain,’ accused Nell, more furious than ever, but trying her best to contain it. ‘Has the doctor been to see him?’

  There came a shake of the head.

  A stocky little figure had wandered up quietly, and now made contribution. ‘He needs to be told,’ said Beata.

  ‘What can I do if Sister says no?’ the day nurse enquired of both. ‘I can’t stride over her and drag him down by his scruff.’

  Nell moaned in despair, then lunged her face close to the other’s to make an indictment of neglect. ‘I’m telling you! If nothing’s done that child will be gone by morning – and it’ll be your fault,
and Sister Pike’s too!’

  Such was her frustration and anger on the child’s behalf, that Nell felt like banging her head against the wall. However, with others to be nursed, she and Beata were forced to go about their everyday affairs. But once the rest of the patients were asleep, they were to take it in turns to sit and hold his hand, and to watch him slip into a coma, to share the burden between them, for it was too harrowing for one to bear.

  When he died in the early hours, both were beside themselves from the effort of having to contain such rage and grief. Nell confessed to hating Pike more than she had ever hated anyone, even the Germans and all that they had done to her. How that detestable pig of a woman could call herself a nurse, could sneer at them for their lack of qualifications, when she had not one ounce of humility nor compassion … Had she been before them now, Nell would have gladly smashed her fist into that condescending face, imagined the act of doing so again and again.

  Alas, their only outlet for this fury was to clean the dead boy’s cubicle from top to bottom, scrubbing like maniacs until the job was done. By the time the day staff came on, she and Beata were almost too choked to speak.

  ‘Good morning!’ sang Sister Pike, in that self-important fashion that told she was in a good mood as she bustled around the wards on her rounds. ‘Oh – where’s our little brain tumour this morning?’ She turned in surprise to Nell, who launched herself.

  ‘He’s in the mortuary – where I said he’d be!’

  Somewhat shocked by the distraught attack, Sister looked from Nell’s angry face to that of Beata, then immediately withdrew, obviously to investigate, for when she returned a few moments later she had with her the other nurse who had doubted Nell, and neither of them could do enough for her, nor Beata. ‘Come into the office, my dears, and have a cup of –’

  ‘We don’t want your bloody tea!’ Beata looked ready to throw it in that patronising face.

  ‘What we want to know is why?’ demanded Nell, almost in tears. ‘Why wouldn’t you take a blind bit of notice of our warning? Did you think we were just saying it to bull ourselves up? We’re not idiots!’

  ‘Of course you’re not, nobody said –’

  ‘Well, that’s what was implied!’ retorted Beata, equally emotional.

  ‘Not at all!’ Sister tried to mitigate. ‘It was extremely hard even for a physician to differentiate between the boy’s symptoms and that of polio. Nurse Spottiswood did very well to spot it.’

  Nell contorted her face. ‘You think I want praise? A monkey could have detected there was something amiss! Both Killie and I have worked here long enough to know how polio presents itself, and we both said that poor little chap didn’t have it – I begged you to do something, and you mocked me!’

  Sister Pike fidgeted over this criticism, but maintained her repentant tone whilst managing to hang on to her authority. ‘Well, I’m very sorry if it appeared that way.’ Grim of face, she folded her hands as if to end the matter. ‘You were right, and the rest of us were wrong.’

  ‘At that child’s cost!’ A bileful Nell refused to be fobbed off.

  And nor would Beata, all caution thrown to the wind as she spat, ‘You can thank your lucky stars he isn’t a member of my family, because I’d kick up such a bloody stink!’

  ‘You’ll say nothing of this outside the hospital!’ Pike warned them.

  ‘No, because I’m ashamed to be associated with it!’

  Too furious and tearful to say more, her heart pumping dangerously fast, Nell wheeled away, and, with a last recriminatory look at Pike, Beata followed.

  Sister called after them, eager to make amends. ‘Would you like to stay behind and attend the post mortem? Just to see what it really –’

  ‘I don’t need to see!’ Nell spun back and came charging at her again. ‘I can tell you what killed him – a brain tumour, or an abscess. But it doesn’t matter which, because that poor child still died in agony, and I’ll never bloody forgive you!’

  Knowing they would both be unable to sleep, let alone eat, Nell shunned the canteen and invited Beata to accompany her to her austere abode to share a dram of whisky. Seated side by side on the bed, their backs against the wall, neither really wanted an inquest over what had just occurred – for what more was there to add – but simply to try and drown their sorrows as best they might. Amongst the many gifts received from grateful patients was a bottle that Nell had not yet opened. It was certainly put to good use now.

  But, if anything, the firewater made them even angrier, Nell’s tongue soon loosened enough to declare, ‘I feel like packing it all in! For all Pike’s fine words I know she still won’t pay any more heed to what I say. If I thought my staying would make a difference, then I would, but I just keep thinking, what if it had been William? Or Nina? Honestly, I do, Killie, I feel like packing it all in …’

  ‘Then do,’ said her friend, her own eyes similarly grave as she sipped from her glass.

  ‘And abandon more poor souls to those incompetent butchers? I know it’s harsh, I know everybody makes mistakes, but really …’ Nell took an angry swig. ‘And who’d stand up for them if I were to go?’

  ‘I would,’ vowed Beata, slightly less free with her intake than Nell, for she had yet to walk a straight trail home.

  ‘Pff, why should you have to stand alone?’ demanded Nell.

  ‘Just because I’ve made nursing my life, doesn’t mean you have to do the same. You’re still a young woman –’

  Nell cut in with a groggy laugh. ‘I seem to recall that when you were my age you regarded yourself as an old maid!’

  ‘Maybe that’s because everybody’s treated me as an old maid from the day I was born,’ murmured Beata. ‘And we’re not talking about me. You’ve been in this job for fifteen years –’

  ‘So’ve you!’

  ‘Aye, and often I’ve felt like chucking it all in as well, no more so than now. But there’s no point, because I know that this is what I was put on this earth to do. I’m married to the job, but you, with your good looks, could escape.’

  ‘Are you saying I’m a useless nurse, so I might as well get married?’ slurred Nell.

  ‘Oh, I can see there’s no talking to you when you’re kali-ed,’ scolded Beata, though with a fond look in her eye as she took a slurp of her own drink.

  ‘I know what you’re saying, Killie.’ Nell bumped shoulders with her in gratitude. ‘As a matter of fact, I received a proposal of marriage not very long ago.’ Her inebriated expression bore an additional look of smugness.

  But Beata didn’t seem surprised. ‘Joe, was it?’

  Nell sat bolt upright. ‘He told you?’

  The other shook her head. ‘I’ve been expecting it, from the way he talks about you. Been asking a lot of questions –’

  Even in her glassy-eyed state, Nell looked nervous. ‘You didn’t tell him about William?’

  ‘No, you clot, just normal stuff, mostly to do with work.’

  Nell showed uncertainty. ‘Do you think I should tell him?

  Beata replied in her usually understated manner. ‘That depends on whether or not you intend to accept his proposal.’

  Nell slumped back against the wall, eyelids droopy, head lolling, both from drunkenness and exhaustion. ‘Well, actually, I didn’t like to tell you before, but I turned him down. I felt terrible at hurting his feelings, but it was just such a shock and I reacted on impulse. I always said I wouldn’t marry.’

  ‘No law to say you can’t change your mind,’ said Beata, sensing a hint of regret.

  ‘I’ll never change my mind about Bill,’ replied Nell softly. ‘I know Joe’s your brother, Killie, and he’s a lovely chap, but I could never feel the same way about him …’

  ‘No, but you do like him?’

  ‘Oh, yes! He’s smashing company, we have lots of laughs. And Nina …’ Nell’s face lit up totally now, her thoughts obviously consumed by the little girl. ‘She’s just the gorgeousest little thing! Sorry, I’m making words up now, aren
’t I? But it would be no hardship being her mother, I feel as if she’s mine already. But would it be fair?’

  ‘To marry him when you still love Bill?’ questioned Beata. ‘I’m sure he feels the same way about Grette.’

  ‘Oh yes, he told me that.’ Swaying, Nell tipped back her glass again.

  ‘Well then. So long as you’re both aware what you’re getting into …’

  ‘But Joe’s not aware, is he? Not aware of William. And if I do the right thing and tell him I have a son, he might change his mind.’

  ‘Would it concern you if he did?’

  ‘Why yes, it would concern me greatly!’ revealed Nell. ‘I value his respect. I’d hate it if he looked at me in a different light.’

  ‘Then that says to me that you feel strongly enough to marry him. Knowing Joe, I don’t think he’d look at you the slightest bit differently. But by the same token, I can’t see the point in upskelling the applecart over something that happened all that time ago. So, you won’t find me sticking my oar in, it’s up to you whether you tell him or not. If William were on the scene it would be a different matter –’

  ‘But he isn’t.’ Nell looked set to weep again.

  ‘No, and I know you’ll never be able to replace him, but you could have more children. So, why don’t you take this chance, Spotty? It might not come again.’

  Nell gazed into mid-air, rubbing her midriff, for the whisky had scoured her empty stomach. ‘I suppose there is no point in staying to bang my head against a brick wall …’ she belched. ‘Pardon me.’

  ‘No point at all,’ agreed Beata. ‘Go and get married, have a family, whatever you bloody need, but don’t stay in nursing just to torture yourself, or for promises you made long ago.’

  After just two tots of whisky to Nell’s five, Beata went home to her own bed. But Nell, even with a great deal more alcohol to fuzz her brain, and having sobbed her guts up over the dead boy, did not immediately sleep, remaining just below the surface, and picturing herself answering all the demands that marriage to Joe would put on her. Could she have sex with him? Yes, probably. He was not physically unattractive, and even if he had been, she doubted it would matter all that much, for he was an amusing and likeable companion, and laughter had always been an aphrodisiac to her. And she was fond of him.