The Nightingale Girls

by Donna Douglas

  ‘Cleaning the teeth. Look.’ Millie showed her the basin. But instead of being incredibly impressed by her time-saving brainwave, Lucy just stared at the bowl then at Millie and back at the bowl again.

  ‘How are you going to tell which teeth are which?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s easy, I’ll just . . .’ Millie’s smile faltered slightly ‘. . . I mean, I’ll . . .’

  Then full realisation hit her and she stared in horror at the assortment of teeth in the bowl. They all seemed to be grinning up at her.

  ‘Oh, Benedict, what have you done now?’ Lucy put her hand over her mouth, her eyes as big as saucers above it. They stared at each other for a moment.

  Then the phone rang.

  ‘Mr Cooper’s on his way.’ Lucy thrust the basin at her. ‘Get this lot handed out stat.’

  ‘But how will we know who to give them to?’ Millie asked.

  ‘I don’t know, do I? You’ll just have to guess for now and sort it out later.’

  Fortunately Staff Nurse Cuthbert was busy and Sister Wren had retired to her sitting room, so they didn’t witness Millie hurtling up and down the ward, skimming false teeth into the laps of surprised patients.

  By the time she had reached the other end of the ward, Sister Wren had emerged from her sitting room, her ashy brown hair looking suspiciously teased under her starched cap. The staff nurses and Lucy had already gathered at the doors to the ward, ready to greet their illustrious visitor when he arrived.

  ‘Benedict!’ Sister Wren snapped at Millie. ‘Is that the basin for Mr Cooper? Put it down at once.’

  ‘But Sister—’

  ‘I said, put it down!’ Sister Wren hissed furiously. ‘Roll your sleeves down, put your cuffs on and come over here.’

  With a quick, guilty glance at Lucy, Millie hastily put the bowl on the stand at the far end of the ward, covered it with a towel and hurried back to join Sister Wren and the other nurses, who were busy patting their hair and smoothing down their aprons. All she could hope now was that Mr Cooper didn’t mind too much that the water in the bowl was stone cold.

  She was still fastening the studs on her cuffs when the doors swung open and the Great One himself entered, followed by his firm, a procession of two registrars, a pair of senior housemen and several medical students. Millie could immediately see why Blanche had put on lipstick and Sister had teased her hair. Mr Cooper looked like Errol Flynn in a white coat.

  ‘Sister Wren,’ he greeted her with a nod.

  ‘Mr Cooper,’ she simpered. Her voice was high and fluttery, and nothing like the sharp tone she took with her nurses. ‘Your water is ready, if you would care to step this way?’

  ‘Thank you.’ Millie and Lucy exchanged panicked looks as he strode over to the basin, his retinue following behind. Millie crossed her fingers behind her back. The whole ward seemed utterly, deathly silent, although she guessed that was because they had been struck dumb by their ill-fitting teeth.

  Mr Cooper hitched up the sleeves of his white coat, flicked the towel aside and plunged his hands into the water. Millie closed her eyes and prayed.

  Please don’t let it be too cold, please . . .

  For a moment nothing happened. Then Mr Cooper said in his deep voice, ‘Sister, would you mind explaining why there is a set of false teeth in the bottom of this bowl?’

  Sister Wren opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, a voice rang out from the far end of the ward.

  ‘Oh, they’ll be mine, Doctor. The nurse forgot to give me back my set.’ They all turned to see Blanche grinning toothlessly at them all. Her bright red lips only emphasised the gaping cavern of her mouth.

  The silence seemed to go on forever. Millie could feel everyone staring at her, but she couldn’t look up from the shiny floor. She’d done a good job of polishing it, she thought. But it would take more than a spot of cleaning to save her now.

  ‘Nurse . . . my office . . . immediately.’ Sister Wren turned on her heel and stalked out of the ward. Millie trailed after her.

  She braced herself as best she might, but couldn’t have prepared herself for the full force of Sister Wren’s wrath. ‘Never . . . in my whole career . . . utterly humiliated.’ Cords of suppressed rage stood out on her thin neck. ‘Dumbfounded . . . disgrace to nursing . . .’ Millie let the words wash over her, until finally the storm blew itself out.

  ‘Well? What have you to say for yourself?’ Sister demanded when she finally paused for breath.

  ‘It was an accident, Sister.’

  Sister Wren closed her eyes, mentally composing herself. ‘You,’ she said, enunciating slowly and carefully, ‘are one big accident waiting to happen. I would send you to Matron but I’m sure she’s already seen more than enough of you. Now please get out of my sight. And be sure I will be mentioning this in my ward report. How we are going to survive the next three months with you on my ward, I have no idea.’

  Lucy was waiting for her in the sluice when she returned. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Millie’s hands shook as she washed them under the tap. ‘Has Mr Cooper gone?’

  Lucy nodded. ‘He said he’d come back and continue his round when Sister had finished dealing with you. He didn’t look too pleased.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ He would probably go straight to Matron too. Millie had a sudden, horrible vision of being packed off unceremoniously back to Billinghurst. Her grandmother would be delighted. ‘What do you think I should do?’ she pleaded.

  ‘I’d stay out of everyone’s way, if I were you.’ Lucy could barely hide her glee.

  But first Millie had to sort out the puzzle of the teeth. She was so miserable she could barely speak as she trailed up and down the ward with her bowl. But the women did their best to cheer her up.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, love, worse things happen at sea,’ Blanche said. ‘Besides, it gave us all a right good laugh. And they say that’s the best medicine, don’t they?’

  It was kind of them to try and make her feel better, Millie thought as she washed the bowl in the sluice room sink. But she still felt utterly foolish.

  ‘Really, Millie, you must try to think in future,’ she warned herself.

  ‘Did you know that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness?’ a voice said behind her.

  Millie swung round. A young man stood in the sluice-room doorway. She recognised him as one of the housemen she’d seen with Mr Cooper that morning.

  ‘Of course, presenting a bowl of false teeth to the hospital’s Chief Consultant in full view of his entire firm may also be considered an act of insanity,’ he drawled.

  His grin irritated Millie. ‘Have you come to gloat?’ she snapped.

  ‘I’ve come to tell you not to take it to heart.’ He wasn’t much older than she was, tall and lanky in his white coat, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. There was something familiar about him, but she wasn’t sure what. ‘If it’s any help, I actually think Cooper was secretly quite amused.’

  ‘Sister certainly wasn’t.’

  ‘Sister Wren has no sense of humour.’

  Millie frowned at him. ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m William. Will, to my friends. And you are?’

  ‘Benedict.’

  ‘No first name?’

  ‘You can call me Nurse Benedict, if you like?’

  He smiled. He had a nice smile, Millie thought . . .

  ‘Thanks for trying to make me feel better,’ she said.

  ‘I’m a doctor. It’s my job.’

  I’m a doctor. Something about the way he said it made her think. She looked up at him, more closely this time. The last time she’d seen that tall, lanky figure it had been looming out of the fog towards her . . .

  ‘It’s you!’ she cried. ‘You ran me over!’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ He frowned. And then, slowly, it dawned on him. ‘You!’

  ‘You owe me a new pair of stockings.’

/>   ‘And you owe me a new rear bumper.’ But we could call it quits if you promise to come out with me one night?’ he added cheekily.

  Millie had opened her mouth to reply when she heard voices in the corridor.

  ‘Sounds like Mr Cooper’s coming back,’ said William.

  He ducked out of sight, then stuck his head round the door again. ‘It’s been nice meeting you, Nurse Benedict. Perhaps I’ll run into you again sometime.’

  ‘Not literally, I hope!’ Millie was still smiling to herself as his running footsteps echoed away down the corridor.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  AT NINE O’CLOCK, just before the day staff went off duty, Sister Hyde gave her final report to the night nurses who were taking over the Female Chronics ward.

  ‘Mrs Tyler in bed two has been in a great deal of pain from her arthritis today. Dr Grange has prescribed Cincophen, but she may need extra pain relief during the night.’ Like the other sisters, Sister Hyde didn’t need to consult any notes. She knew by heart the state of every patient on her ward. ‘Miss Fletcher in bed four suffered a convulsion at ten-past four this afternoon. She has been quiet since, but you must keep an eye on her. And we have had one admission today. Mrs Mortimer, bed six.’ She swept them with a warning glance. ‘You may need to watch her. She has been rather trying.’

  Helen glanced across at Amy Hollins, who was barely listening. She had hoped that after their three months on Male Surgical they might get a break from each other. But here they were, stuck on night duty together, with only a solitary pro to keep them company. And even she was acting as a runner between several wards.

  Sister Hyde finally went off duty, after leaving a long list of jobs to keep the nurses busy.

  ‘She’ll be lucky,’ Amy whispered as the doors closed behind her. ‘Come on, let’s get this lot settled quickly and then we can relax.’ She stretched and yawned.

  Helen suspected Amy hadn’t been to bed. After their shift finished at seven in the morning and they’d had breakfast, they were sent straight to bed in the night nurses’ block, where a sister prowled the corridor to make sure they didn’t get up before noon. Helen usually couldn’t wait to crawl into bed, but she knew some nurses were more interested in their social lives than sleep, and managed to evade Sister’s beady eye to go off for the day with their boyfriends.

  She would have asked Amy, but the other girl would probably think she was prying. Better just to stay out of her way, Helen decided.

  ‘I’ll make a start on the drinks round, shall I?’ she offered.

  ‘I suppose so. Where’s that runner got to?’

  ‘Gone over to report to Male Chronics, I think.’

  ‘Well, I hope she comes back soon. We need her far more than they do. If she isn’t back in five minutes you’re to go and find her,’ she instructed Helen. ‘It’s not fair she should leave you to do the drinks round on your own.’

  Helen smiled as she headed for the kitchen. It wasn’t like Amy to be so considerate. Although her consideration didn’t stretch to helping with the drinks herself, she noticed as she put the kettles on.

  Amy had disappeared by the time she returned with the trolley, so Helen did the drinks round by herself. It took a long time, as most of the elderly women needed help with feeding cups. Almost half an hour had passed by the time she reached the new patient in bed six. Mrs Mortimer sat up ramrod straight, her long white hair beautifully brushed over the shoulders of her spotless nightgown.

  ‘Would you like a drink, Mrs Mortimer?’ Helen spoke to her slowly and encouragingly, as she did to all the women on the ward. ‘A nice cup of tea? Some Horlicks?’

  Mrs Mortimer gave her a withering look. ‘Good gracious, girl, why are you speaking to me like that?’ she said sharply. ‘It’s my body that’s afflicted, not my mind.’ She peered at the trolley, unimpressed. ‘I don’t suppose you have anything as civilised as a brandy, do you? No? I thought it was rather too much to hope for.’ She sighed heavily. ‘In that case, you may go.’

  She dismissed her with an imperious wave of her hand. Helen stood there, nonplussed.

  ‘Well? Was there something else?’ Mrs Mortimer said, as if she were addressing a rather dim servant. Helen shook her head. ‘Then I suggest you get on with your work, girl, and stop staring at me like a stunned trout.’

  Helen slunk off, pushing her trolley. No wonder Sister Hyde had called her ‘trying’. She could imagine the pair of them clashing terribly if Mrs Mortimer used that tone with her.

  Amy returned as she was pushing the drinks trolley back to the kitchen. She was herding the pro back in front of her like a lost lamb.

  ‘Look who I found,’ she said. ‘Gossiping on Male Chronics, she was. Not a thought for us, slaving away here on our own.’

  Helen’s brows rose but she said nothing.

  For the next hour she and Amy handed out medication with the Night Sister, changed dressings, straightened sheets and shook pillows, generally making the patients comfortable for the night. Then they turned off the lights and Helen and the pro went around pinning little green cloths over the lamps above patients who needed special care, and the one on the sister’s desk.

  After that, the pro headed off to catch up with her duty list on Male Chronics, leaving Helen and Amy alone.

  ‘Right, that’s it. I’m off for a rest,’ Amy announced.

  Helen sat down at the desk in the middle of the ward. ‘I’ll keep an eye on this lot and let you know if Night Sister turns up.’

  ‘She doesn’t do her rounds until well after midnight. Why don’t you come and have a cup of tea in the kitchen?’ Amy offered.

  If Helen hadn’t already been sitting down, she would have fallen over in a faint. Ever since they’d started on night duty, Amy had entertained a string of junior doctors in the kitchen. But Helen had never been invited to one of her midnight soirees.

  ‘Why?’ she asked blankly.

  ‘No reason. I just thought you could do with a break,’ Amy shrugged. ‘It’s so tedious sitting here night after night with this lot.’ She nodded around the ward. ‘You could come and have a laugh with us for a change.’

  Then, just as Helen was beginning to wonder if she’d fallen asleep and was dreaming it all, Amy added, ‘Your brother said he might drop in later.’

  Ah, so that’s it. Helen saw the studied nonchalance on Amy’s face and realised the real reason why she was suddenly being so nice to her. She was interested in William, and she’d decided she should start sucking up to his sister.

  As if that would make any difference, thought Helen. She tried to keep as far away from William and his love life as she possibly could.

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said, ‘but I’d better stay here, just in case any of the patients needs anything.’

  ‘The only thing this lot need is a good undertaker,’ Amy said. ‘Don’t look at me like that, they’re all at death’s door anyway. Although I hope none of them decides to die before tomorrow morning. If I’m late going off duty because I have to lay someone out, I won’t be very happy about it.’

  ‘I’m sure none of them will be that inconsiderate,’ Helen murmured.

  Once Amy had gone, she started on the list of jobs Sister Hyde had left for them to do. She had just started mending the linen when she saw three housemen creep past. Her brother William was one of them. He smiled and gave her a sheepish wave as he followed the others into the kitchen.

  Helen settled down to her stitching by the dull light of the shaded desk lamp. All around her was the creak and rattle of bedsprings, mingled with the noises made by the patients. Many of the elderly women on Hyde were disturbed, their minds gone with age and illness. At night they became even more restless and agitated. While other wards slept on peacefully, Female Chronics rang with the sound of whooping, sobbing, wailing and groaning, at least until the effects of their bedtime sedatives took over and an uneasy peace descended for a few hours. Helen was used to the noise. She didn’t find it nearly so distur
bing as the muffled shrieks and whoops that came from the kitchen.

  ‘Nurse?’ Mrs Mortimer’s voice startled her, coming out of the darkness. Helen hurried over.

  ‘What can I do for you, Mrs Mortimer?’

  ‘You can tell that rabble to keep their voices down. It’s difficult enough to sleep in this madhouse, without being disturbed by that racket,’ she grumbled.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Mortimer. I’ll tell them immediately.’

  She walked into the kitchen to find them all drinking cocoa and listening to William telling a lurid ghost story about a former patient who haunted Hyde ward.

  ‘And they say that on dark, still nights you can still see her in her blood-stained nightgown, wandering up the ward,’ he intoned in a grave voice.

  ‘Do you mind?’ Helen interrupted him sternly. ‘You’re disturbing the patients. And you can put that down, too.’ She snatched a slice of bread out of her brother’s hand. ‘That’s supposed to be for the patients’ breakfast.’

  ‘Don’t be such a spoilsport, Tremayne,’ Amy said sulkily.

  ‘She’s right,’ William said. ‘We’ll keep the noise down,’ he promised.

  As she left, Helen heard Amy saying, ‘Honestly, Will, I can’t believe she’s your sister. She’s nowhere near as much fun as you.’

  Back on the ward, Helen found one of the women had wet her bed and was busy dragging off the sopping sheets, draping them like washing over the sides of her cot. As Helen went to stop her, the woman grabbed her cap, ripping it off her head and sending pins scattering everywhere. Helen was still desperately groping around in the dark, trying to gather them up, when the runner scuttled into the ward to tell her Night Sister was on her way to do her round.

  ‘Oh, Lord, she’s early.’ Helen retrieved the last pin from under the patient’s bed and got to her feet. ‘You’d better warn Hollins.’

  The next minute was a desperate scramble as Amy smuggled the doctors out and tidied the kitchen while Helen tried to refasten her cap as best she could.