The Nightingale Girls

by Donna Douglas

  ‘Don’t let appearances fool you,’ Katie replied wisely. ‘Bridget reckons she can be as snappy as the rest of them if things aren’t done her way. Ah, here we are.’ She pushed open the door to the sluice. ‘Welcome to our new home for the next three months. Fat lot we’ll learn in here, washing bedpans!’

  The sluice room was freezing. February had brought grey skies and frost, and the wind whistled through the open grating that covered the high window. Pritchard, the other pro, was already at the sink, rinsing out a bedpan under the tap. She was gangly, with buck teeth and spectacles.

  ‘Thank God you’re here.’ She thrust the bedpan at Dora. ‘You can take over with these while I go and finish the round.’

  ‘What are we supposed to do with them?’

  ‘Empty them down that sink, of course, and then wash them out. And be sure you do it properly,’ she added bossily. ‘I’ll be back to take the clean ones out again in a minute.’

  ‘Listen to her! I bet she was doing all the dirty jobs herself until we came along,’ Katie said, as they unfastened their cuffs and rolled up their sleeves. ‘Now she thinks we’re her slaves.’

  ‘I reckon we’re everyone’s slaves.’ Dora finished washing the bedpan and turned to face the others piled up beside the door. ‘I suppose we’d better get on with this lot,’ she said dubiously.

  Sister Parker had told them all about cleaning and sterilising, but she hadn’t prepared them for how awful the job would be.

  ‘Jesus, the smell!’ Katie pinched her nose. ‘I think I’m going to be sick!’

  ‘Just hold your breath.’ Bracing herself, Dora grabbed the first bedpan and swung it at arm’s length towards the big hole in the middle of the sink.

  ‘I’m going to close my eyes too.’ Katie picked up a bedpan and aimed it towards the sink.

  ‘Watch it!’ Dora jumped out of the way just in time. ‘Do you think you could keep your eyes open? That nearly went over my shoes.’

  ‘You two! Stop chattering.’ Staff Nurse O’Hara stood in the doorway, her arms folded. She looked like Katie, with her dark hair, round blue eyes and plump figure. But her frown was all her own. ‘You’re not in PTS now, you know. This is not the place for gossiping.’

  ‘Oh, go and boil your head!’ Katie muttered as her sister bustled off.

  But no one had told Glenda Pritchard it wasn’t the place for gossiping. Speaking in a rushed, excitable whisper, just low enough to escape the staff nurses’ sharp ears, she kept up a constant stream of chatter to Dora and Katie as she rushed in and out with the bedpans.

  ‘I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I found out I was coming here. Everyone says Male Orthopaedics is the best ward. I’ve heard it’s full of handsome young men with sports injuries, all laid up with nothing to do but flirt with the nurses.’ She blushed. ‘It’s a bit different from Gynae, I can tell you. Oh, poor you, having to wash all those bedpans! I’m so glad I don’t have to do it any more. What do you think of Sister? She’s lovely, isn’t she? So much nicer than Sister Wren on Gynae. She was utterly spiteful. You’re meant to warm those bedpans under the hot tap, by the way . . .’

  Dora allowed Glenda’s voice to wash over her as she got on with washing the bedpans. Her arms were pimpled with cold, and she had to grit her teeth together to stop them from chattering.

  After the bedpan round, she and Katie were sent to scrub out the bathrooms and clean the patients’ lockers. Then they had to pull the beds into the middle of the ward to clean behind them.

  ‘I thought they had a ward maid to do the cleaning?’ she whispered to Katie.

  ‘They do, but the nurses still have to do a proper clean at least once a week,’ Katie replied, clattering her mop into the galvanised bucket, which earned her a sharp look from her sister Bridget.

  ‘Do you have to make so much noise? You’re disturbing the patients,’ she warned.

  ‘Look at her. Thinks she’s the Rose of Tralee.’ Katie pulled a face. ‘I wish she’d skid on this wet floor. That would give me a laugh! Is it lunchtime yet? I’m starving, and I think my back’s going to break.’

  Dora was used to hard work, so the cleaning didn’t bother her. And the patients were so friendly, it made her job a lot easier. Most of them were recumbent on iron frames, or encased in plaster. Many had nothing more serious than a sports injury, while others had congenital deformities. Denied even the chance of sitting up and looking around them, they were dependent on the nurses for entertainment. They chatted to Dora as she went about her work.

  Sister Blake seemed pleased with her. ‘You’re doing a good job, Doyle,’ she complimented her. ‘As you’ve probably gathered, most of the patients on this ward get rather bored and starved of excitement. They welcome a friendly face and a bit of chat. It’s a very important part of nursing, keeping their spirits up. But just be careful, some of the younger ones can get cheeky sometimes,’ she warned.

  Dora didn’t understand what she meant until later that afternoon. She was carrying a pile of fresh linen from the cupboard when Mr Hubbard, a young man with a dislocated shoulder, called her over.

  ‘Can you spare a minute, Nurse?’ he asked.

  Dora glanced around. There were no other nurses in sight.

  ‘Shall I fetch someone?’ she asked.

  ‘No, you’ll do. Could you take a look at something for me? Only I’m a bit worried.’

  Dora looked around again. Sister Blake and Staff Nurse O’Hara were behind the screens with another patient. Staff Nurse Martin was in the kitchen. Even Glenda Pritchard and Katie were nowhere to be seen.

  She remembered what Sister Blake had said about them all working together to help the patients. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to his bed, feeling very important in her uniform.

  ‘What is it you wanted me to look at?’ she asked, in her best bedside manner voice.

  ‘This!’ Mr Hubbard threw back the covers. He’d unfastened his pyjama bottoms to expose himself. ‘I think you should give it a close examination, Nurse.’

  Dora took one look at the naked white appendage hanging there limply and jumped back in panic, sending his water jug flying. Laughter exploded all around her, ringing around the ward. Everyone was in on the joke.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Sister Blake appeared from behind the screens. ‘Nurse, explain yourself!’

  ‘I . . . I . . .’

  ‘Sorry, Sister, it was my fault,’ Mr Hubbard grinned, whipping the sheet back to cover himself. ‘The other lads put me up to it. We were just having a bit of a laugh with the new nurse, that’s all.’

  ‘Really, Mr Hubbard, that is hardly a gentlemanly thing to do to a young student on her first day!’ Sister Blake eyed him sternly. ‘Doyle is very shaken, as you can see.’

  ‘Sorry, Nurse.’ Mr Hubbard didn’t look at all sorry. It was all he could do to stop himself smiling. ‘It was just a joke. No harm done.’

  Sister Blake turned to Dora. ‘Are you all right, Nurse?’ Dora nodded, still shaken. ‘Go and get a cloth and get this mess cleaned up. Really, Mr Hubbard, anyone would think we had nothing better to do!’

  Dora rushed off to the sluice, a chorus of laughter still ringing in her ears.

  She stood at the sink, trying to calm herself down. It was a joke, she told herself over and over again. Just a joke.

  ‘Have you got that cloth yet?’ Staff Nurse O’Hara appeared in the doorway. ‘For heaven’s sake, Doyle, don’t look so terrified. They were only having a laugh. And they’ll probably do it again, too, if they get a reaction like that out of you. You’ve got to toughen up, or you won’t last five minutes on this ward.’

  Only having a laugh? Dora thought as she wrung out a cloth. Maybe it was just a bit of fun for anyone else. But for her, it brought back too many horrible memories ever to be funny.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘I HAVE A very important job for you to do and I want you to listen carefully while I explain it.’

  Millie was surprised. Her first three days
on Wren hadn’t been a spectacular success. As far as Sister Wren was concerned, she seemed to make a mess of everything.

  ‘Why are you taking so long?’ she’d demanded that morning, as Millie returned from collecting up the breakfast dishes. ‘You’re here to work, not gossip with the patients.’

  But Millie couldn’t help it. The women were so much fun, and terribly keen to stop her for a chat. It seemed rude to hurry by, and Millie did feel for them, being stuck in bed away from their families. It must be so terribly boring, she thought, seeing the same faces day after day.

  Sister Wren didn’t see it like that, unfortunately. Millie had only been working with her for a few days, but she had already realised that Sister had little time or sympathy for most of her patients.

  Given their dismal relationship so far, it was very surprising she should be entrusting Millie with an important task now.

  ‘Yes, Sister.’ She stood to attention.

  ‘The consultant, Mr Cooper, is doing his round later this morning,’ Sister Wren explained. It might not have been her real name, but she lived up to it perfectly. She looked exactly like a bird, with her tiny frame, beaky nose and dark, darting eyes. The thin hair under her cap was a dusty brown colour, like a sparrow’s wing. ‘It’s very important that when he arrives everything is in order. Mr Cooper is very particular, and I do not want any complaints from him.’ She eyed Millie severely. ‘When he arrives on the ward he likes to wash his hands straight away. So I will need you to have a basin of water ready for him.’

  ‘Yes, Sister.’

  ‘It must be waiting by the door, with a towel over it. The water must be neither too hot nor too cold. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, Sister. Not too hot and not too cold.’

  ‘Good. See that it’s done correctly, please.’

  She started to walk away. ‘Sister?’ Millie called after her, puzzled.

  Sister Wren turned slowly back to face her. Too late Millie remembered that humble pros were not supposed to speak unless spoken to.

  ‘Yes?’ she said icily.

  ‘What is the important job?’

  Sister Wren stared at her. ‘I’ve just explained it to you. Don’t tell me you need telling again?’

  ‘No, I just—’ Millie had had visions of being called on to give her opinion on some medical matter, or at least being allowed to pass the consultant some notes. ‘I just didn’t think fetching a basin of water was that important, that’s all.’

  Sister narrowed her eyes. ‘You get it wrong and you’ll see how important it is,’ she said.

  After the bedpan round it was time to clean the ward. As Millie and Lucy Lane swept, polished and buffed every inch of floor space, Millie kept her eyes fixed on the doors.

  ‘Why do you keep staring like that?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘I don’t want to miss the consultant when he arrives.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t. I heard the staff nurses talking. Apparently someone always rings from another ward to warn us when he’s on his way.’

  Reassured that she wouldn’t be caught unawares, Millie was able to relax and get on with her cleaning. She was determined to make a perfect job of it, to show Sister Wren she could be a good nurse.

  ‘Watch it, love, you keep on polishing it like that you’ll wear a hole straight through the floorboards!’ one of the women cackled cheerfully as Millie skimmed around her bed with the mop.

  ‘Really?’ Millie said anxiously. ‘This is how they taught us to do it in training. Have I got it wrong, do you think?’

  ‘Bless you, love, you carry on.’ The woman beamed at her. ‘You can go round and do mine afterwards. God only knows what state it’s got in since I’ve been in here. I don’t suppose that old man of mine has lifted a finger.’

  Millie finished the polishing, which passed even Sister Wren’s eagle eye.

  ‘You took your time about it, I must say,’ was her only comment. ‘Now get the patients washed and ready. And see you’re a bit quicker about it this time.’

  Millie loaded up a trolley with combs, flannels, towels and a bowl of water, and she and Lane made their way around, taking one side of the ward each. Every patient had to be washed, their hair combed, put into a clean nightdress and generally made presentable for Mr Cooper’s arrival.

  ‘This is very nice, I must say,’ said Miss Desmond, as Millie carefully combed through her bleached-blonde curls. Blanche, as she liked to be called, was a voluptuous woman, her fleshy curves barely contained within the richly patterned red silk nightdress she wore. She was due for a hysterectomy to get rid of her fibroids. ‘So what’s all this in aid of? Are we going for a night out?’

  ‘No such luck, I’m afraid, Miss Desmond. The consultant is doing his rounds.’

  ‘Ah. That explains why Sister is all of a twitch this morning.’ Blanche nodded knowingly. ‘She’s got a soft spot for Mr Cooper,’ she explained, when Millie looked blank.

  ‘Surely not!’

  ‘Where do you think she’s gone now? Off titivating herself in that sitting room of hers, I expect,’ Blanche said. ‘You watch her when he turns up. She’ll go all fluttery and girlish. And then she’ll try and lure him back to her sitting room for tea and biscuits. Although I reckon it’ll take more than a cup of Earl Grey to get him interested in her!’

  She roared with laughter. Millie caught the staff nurse’s warning frown and quickly gathered up the washing things, guilty at being caught idling yet again. Lucy was making much faster progress up her side of the ward, she noticed.

  ‘Mind you, I can’t say I blame her. He is a handsome devil,’ Blanche went on. ‘And he’s got a lovely speaking voice, too. I wouldn’t mind having a crack at him myself.’ She turned to Millie. ‘Reach into my locker and get my make-up bag, will you love? Can’t have him seeing me looking a state, can I?’

  Millie watched in fascination as Blanche applied deep red lipstick to her generous mouth. ‘Not that I know why I’m bothering,’ she said. ‘There’s only one part of my body that man ever looks at, and it ain’t my face!’ She laughed so hard her hand shook, wobbling her lipstick. ‘Sounds like every man I’ve ever met!’ She winked at Millie.

  ‘I don’t know how you can bring yourself to talk to that woman.’ Lucy fell into step beside Millie as she wheeled her trolley back down the ward. She had already finished and tidied her own trolley away, as usual.

  ‘You mean Blanche? She’s lovely. And she makes me laugh. Besides, she likes the company. None of the other women seem to want to talk to her for some reason.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. Who’d want anything to do with someone like her?’ Lucy frowned at Millie. ‘You do know what she does for a living, don’t you?’

  ‘She runs her own business from a flat off the Mile End Road, she told me.’ Millie noticed Lucy’s expression. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You are. God, you’re such an innocent, Benedict!’ Lucy lowered her voice. ‘She’s a tart. A prostitute. She sells her body for money.’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘Ask her, if you don’t believe me. Ask anyone,’ Lucy shrugged. ‘Everyone knows what she is. Everyone but you, that is,’ she said with a smirk.

  Millie glanced back over her shoulder at Blanche Desmond. Among all the drab, worn-out women she shone like a bright flame with her blonde hair and scarlet satin gown.

  ‘Well, I don’t care,’ she declared. ‘I still think she’s delightful.’

  ‘My mother would die if she knew I was having anything to do with women like her.’

  ‘And my father says we should treat everyone with respect unless they give us a reason not to,’ Millie said firmly.

  They were interrupted by Staff Nurse Cuthbert, stepping in front of them.

  ‘When you’ve quite finished gossiping, Sister wanted to know if you’ve finished with the patients?’ They both nodded. ‘You’ve washed them, combed their hair, changed their nightgowns? What about their teeth?’

  Lucy nodded. Millie
looked blank. ‘What about them?’

  Cuthbert stared at her. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t done their teeth? You have to take them out and clean them,’ she explained with exaggerated patience.

  Millie glanced at Lucy. Her expression was smug, as usual.

  ‘What, all of them?’ Millie looked up and down the ward in horror. ‘That will take forever.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get on with it, hadn’t you?’

  ‘You could have told me I had to clean their teeth,’ she whispered to Lucy as she clattered back down the ward with her trolley.

  ‘I thought you knew,’ the other girl said carelessly.

  ‘Won’t you help me?’ Millie pleaded.

  ‘Not a chance. I’ve done my bit. And hurry up about it! They’d better be cleaned and put back in before Mr Cooper shows his face or there’ll be real trouble.’

  Millie felt close to tears as she hurried back to the sluice. With so much to do and no one willing to give her a hand, she had horrible visions of not getting the job done in time and ending up in Matron’s office yet again.

  She was filling the basin with water when she had a brainwave. She didn’t have to go round to every bed, cleaning each set of teeth individually. Surely all she had to do was collect up all the teeth and clean them at the same time?

  Pleased with herself, she hurried back down the ward with the trolley, collecting up everyone’s teeth and throwing them into the basin of water as she went. Most of the women in the ward had false teeth – during training Sister Parker had explained how East End women often had their teeth removed at an early age to save on expensive dental treatment when they got older. When she had a basin full Millie carried them carefully back to the sluice, briskly trotting as fast as she could get away with, without breaking into a run.

  She was just rinsing the last of the teeth under the tap and feeling rather pleased with her own ingenuity when Lucy appeared in the doorway to the sluice.

  ‘What are you doing now?’ she demanded. Millie suppressed her annoyance. Lucy had become insufferably bossy since they’d started work on the ward.