Christmas Angels

by Nadine Dorries

  Aileen’s heart melted. ‘I’d love to, but I still have to visit Mother every day and that will include Christmas evening. I promise you, though, I won’t be lonely. It will be the busiest day of the year on children’s ward.’

  Sister Antrobus’s voice boomed out as she approached. ‘Now then, Mrs Paige, it’s time for your enema. I’m sure Sister Paige has a lot to do up on the children’s ward.’ She reached up and with one deft tug pulled the curtains all the way down from the head to the foot of the bed, then strode round to finish the job on the opposite side.

  ‘But I don’t want an enema.’ Mrs Paige had lost the stridency in her voice and sounded almost like a child. ‘Tell her, Aileen! Tell her I don’t want one and I don’t need it either.’

  Aileen opened her mouth to object on her mother’s behalf, but she knew there was no point. Sister Antrobus was well known throughout the hospital for being obsessed with the bowel movements of her patients. A bowel chart was kept at the end of every bed and completed by the nurses during observations. One day missed and there was no argument brooked, an enema it was.

  Aileen stood to leave and glanced down at her mother. ‘I can’t, I’m afraid, Mother. You aren’t my patient.’ Then she bent down and whispered, ‘Just tell them in future that you’ve already been when they ask you in the morning.’

  ‘“Been”?’ her mother almost screeched. ‘“Been”? This woman, she demands evidence, she tells the nurses she wants to see when you’ve been. They have to write a description on the chart and whether it was a good movement. I ask you! She is a witch, Aileen. A witch, I say.’ Mrs Paige had found her voice in the face of such indignity.

  Aileen rolled her eyes. It hadn’t taken long for the real Mother to shine through. She turned to Sister Antrobus. ‘Maybe Mother could wait another day?’ she said tremulously.

  Sister Antrobus stood in her familiar pose, arms folded, and regarded her with a withering expression. ‘Have you ever worked with me before?’ she asked.

  ‘I have, yes, Sister,’ said Aileen with a sigh.

  ‘In that case you will know how strict I am about regular bowel movements, and while I am responsible for your mother, we shall abide by my rules. Goodbye, Sister Paige.’

  There was no ambiguity in Sister Antrobus’s statement. Ward sister or not, Aileen had been as good as ejected. As she made her way out, she enjoyed a brief moment of relief at having been released from her mother’s company, but then she felt guilty. She almost allowed the guilt to swamp her, but something made her stop. She’d found a flicker of strength within, and that flicker had been growing throughout the day; she knew that if she didn’t do something about her life herself, then others – her mother, Josie, the hospital – would make her choices for her.

  A plan had taken root in her mind as she’d lain awake that morning with no need to jump out of bed and dash down to the icy-cold back kitchen. She’d only toyed with it at first, had been too shy and apprehensive to allow herself to linger over it, but it had grown in its insistence and had punched its way to the surface. Right now it was practically shouting to her: ‘Never mind your mother, Aileen, tonight is about you and it’s your only chance.’

  She had one hour to return to the room and smarten up. She looked over her shoulder and saw an enema trolley being wheeled behind the curtains surrounding her mother’s bed. She almost turned back to say to Sister Antrobus, who was pushing the trolley with her usual no-nonsense efficiency, ‘Here, leave it to me, I will toilet her,’ but from nowhere she felt as though a hand was tugging at her arm and propelling her away. She turned her head towards the door and almost came to a standstill as once again she heard her father’s familiar voice whispering to her. Run, Aileen! Run!

  *

  The nurses from the choir had arranged to meet in the WVS post before they began their walk into town. There was a huge amount of pre-concert excitement as they giggled and chattered. Aileen felt proud to be wearing her ward sister’s uniform as the nurses rushed over and deferred to her seniority as she walked in through the main doors. She was the only ward sister in the choir and as a newer and younger sister she was a favourite with those who’d worked with her.

  ‘Here’s your lantern, Sister,’ one of her nurses shouted. She handed Aileen a wooden shepherd’s crook with a glass jam jar suspended from it containing a candle, its flame fluttering.

  ‘Isn’t it thrilling,’ said another. ‘We’re to be in the front row on the bottom steps because the choirmaster thinks our dresses and capes look pretty.’

  The atmosphere was one of high excitement and Aileen grinned. She felt it too. It was a lovely way to spend Christmas Eve.

  As they walked into town together, they passed the dockside houses, some with lights burning inside and many with a church candle, the light of Christ, flickering in the window. For many of the Irish Catholic homes this was the most joyous time in the religious calendar and a grand excuse for a celebration. The pubs were heaving, their doors open, men spilling out on to the streets, and through the windows of nearby homes Aileen caught glimpses of women cooking, bathing their children and wrapping presents. At one house, the windows were being cleaned. Everyone tried their utmost to make Christmas Day the one day when they wouldn’t have any household chores to do other than the cooking and the dishes.

  The sight of sixteen nurses walking down the street, lanterns lit, capes fastened and wrapped tight against the chill night air, caused a stir. Doors opened and neighbours called out.

  ‘Merry Christmas, angels,’ shouted several women as they hurried to their front doors, their smallest children hanging on to their legs.

  ‘Come in here for a singsong, angels,’ shouted men outside the pubs.

  The nurses smiled and waved as they wound their way down to St George’s Hall.

  Christmas Eve was officially Aileen’s day off, but she’d chosen not to take all of the day for herself. She had very much wanted to spend it on her ward with the children and the nurses and even though the morning had been busy, she felt more elated than tired. More so when she thought of her plan. What if it works, she asked herself, and the prospect was so sweet, so delicious and exciting, that an intense thrill ran through her and she had to drag her thoughts back to the present, to the people she was with.

  As the night darkened, the temperature dropped quite quickly and a sudden breeze blew in off the Mersey, threatening to extinguish the candles.

  ‘Will anyone come in this cold?’ a probationer asked Aileen.

  ‘I hope so, after all the effort,’ Aileen replied. ‘As long as it doesn’t snow.’

  The bitter breeze put paid to their chatter. The nurses pulled their cloaks even more tightly across them and Aileen, with her head down, allowed her thoughts to drift to her sad conversation with Matron that morning.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Matron had asked as she saw her across the landing between wards three and four. She wasted no time as she stormed over. ‘Have you seen that poor woman in there? Have you? Just like you, she was, always in and out on her days off.’

  Aileen looked sheepish, but she had her reply ready. ‘No, Matron, I haven’t seen Sister Tapps yet. That’s one of the reasons I’ve come in today, to visit Sister Tapps, and my mother too, and to meet up with the other staff for the carol concert. But I’m going to check that Louis is still doing well and help on the ward too. This is no ordinary day – it’s Christmas Eve and my very first one as a ward sister.’

  Matron’s face softened. ‘I’m sorry. You’re quite right.’

  ‘And,’ said Aileen, ‘we have Father Christmas visiting as soon as it gets dark – do you think I’m going to miss that? I mean, I’ve never seen him before, have I?’

  Both women grinned.

  ‘How is she?’ asked Aileen, looking across to ward four.

  ‘She’s doing OK, but, you know, we only have a few days.’ Matron paused. This fact was still hard to accept. ‘I’m wondering if I’ve done the right thing putting her on her own war
d with just me to look after her. Maybe she could do with seeing more of us?’

  Aileen removed her cape and shook it out, away from them both, then folded it and hugged it into her body. ‘Matron, I have an idea. Why don’t we ask Sister Haycock to organize something, like a rota of people to sit with her, and then tomorrow we can wheel her bed into ward three to have Christmas lunch with the children and Dr Walker and his wife. If you think she’s up to it, that is. And then if she’s in the bed and she isn’t so good, we can just wheel her back.’

  ‘Oh, Sister Paige, I was hoping you’d say that. But it’s just occurred to me – seeing you has reminded me – that there’s a more pressing problem. She has a niece and nephew and I wonder, could you speak to the policeman who was on the ward and ask him if he could track them down for us?’

  Aileen had been flustered by this. ‘Oh, well, I can ask someone else to do that, Matron,’ she’d replied. ‘Maybe Doreen in casualty? Someone who’s behind a desk all day. I can’t possibly do that today, I have so much to do.’

  Matron was surprised. She was sure there was something going on between Sister Paige and the policeman, Freddie Watts. It wasn’t often that she was wrong about such things. She had expected Aileen to jump at the chance. ‘Quite right. I shall call Doreen immediately. Is everything quite all right, Sister Paige? Is your mother behaving herself?’

  Aileen sighed. ‘No, Matron, not really! But Sister Antrobus really does seem to have the measure of her and has things under control.’

  ‘I’m delighted to hear it.’ Matron smiled.

  Aileen was about to head for the cloakroom door when Matron’s words stopped her dead. ‘Sister Paige, don’t waste your life. Make the most of it. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems, you know, or so I am always being told, and there is an answer to most problems.’

  Aileen looked down at her shoes. ‘Oh, I’m not sure about that, Matron. Sometimes there are just too many problems to deal with at the same time and they all seem to merge into one.’

  Matron sighed. She guessed something had gone horribly wrong with Sister Paige and that her mother was at the root of it. She was now convinced that her instinct to keep her mother in and to give Sister Paige a break had been right. But the young man… She’d been sure there was something. She put her hand on Aileen’s arm. ‘Sister Paige, I scrapped the marriage ban on nurses for a reason – because I never want to see another ward sister have to live the life of Sister Tapps and, yes, even Sister Antrobus, not to mention many others in this hospital.’

  Aileen noted that she did not include herself.

  ‘The ban was wrong and I realize that now. I don’t know what has happened to take the smile from your face and the twinkle from your eye that I saw there so recently—’

  Aileen looked up sharply, as though she were about to object. Matron raised her hand to ward off her words.

  ‘Sister Paige, I am older than you by many years. I have worked with nurses all of my life, I have seen that look in your eye and I saw a matching one in his.’

  Against her better judgement, Aileen let out a gasp.

  ‘Oh yes I did, and don’t try and tell me otherwise.’

  And that was when the plan had begun to properly germinate.

  ‘Sister Paige, sometimes, in order to achieve the things in life we want and, yes, deserve, we have to put aside our pride. We have to make the first move and perhaps even be the first to say sorry. I’m not suggesting you make a habit of it, mind – I certainly don’t – however, if it helps to get you where you want to go… And remember, if something feels right, that’s because it is right.’

  Aileen didn’t know how to respond so she just stood there in silence. Matron threw her a knowing smile and disappeared through the doors of ward four.

  *

  Josie was waiting outside the ward doors along with the rest of the visitors, but rather than sit on one of the wooden benches she remained standing, slightly aloof, away from the tapping feet and nervous, clenching hands. Not everyone enjoyed visiting, especially not those whose loved ones were failing to recover and might never return to their own home and bed. As she heard the brass hand-bell ring on the opposite side of the ward doors, she almost jumped.

  The doors were flung open and Sister Antrobus boomed out, ‘Visitors, please remember, visiting is for exactly one hour.’ Turning her back, making it clear she wasn’t the sort of ward sister who welcomed small talk, she strode away in her black brogues, taking one step for each of Josie’s three in her beige suede kitten heels.

  Scanning the ward for her mother, Josie eventually found her in the bed furthest from the door. She was sitting up against the starched white pillow, motionless, as though she too had been recently starched and ironed and placed there.

  ‘For goodness’ sake,’ said Josie as she pulled out the chair, ‘what on earth are you doing here? I said to get Aileen to stay at home from St Angelus for Christmas, not for you to book yourself in as a patient – it’s not a hotel, Mother.’

  Having spent the afternoon in the hands of Sister Antrobus, Mrs Paige was in no mood for Josie’s intimidation tactics. ‘I did my best,’ she said. ‘In order that you and your husband can hobnob on Christmas Day, I am being forced to spend my Christmas in here. I almost think Matron did it deliberately. You have no idea of the injustice and indignity I have had to face this afternoon, all for you and your husband. Come with you, has he?’ She made much of leaning forward and peering down the ward at the last trail of visitors streaming in through the door. ‘Concerned for the welfare of his mother-in-law, is he? Let me see now, when did I last see him? Oh, silly me, of course, it was Christmas Day last year, wasn’t it? I thought he might want to at least come and witness the sacrifice I am making.’

  ‘Oh, Mother, really.’ Josie squirmed on her chair and looked around the ward to check that no one had been listening. ‘You know he isn’t here – he had to go all the way to London on the train today, even though it’s Christmas Eve. He has a very responsible job, Mother.’

  Her mother’s next words took Josie completely by surprise. ‘And so, my dear, does your sister. The one thing I would say about sitting here in this bed is that I have a lot of time to think. You don’t know this, and, frankly, neither do I, not for definite, but I think Aileen may have a young man. And do you know, it has occurred to me that I wouldn’t want to live with you, not in a month of Sundays, so you can stop fretting on that score.’

  ‘A man? Who?’ Josie shuffled her chair closer to the bed and Mrs Paige smirked. Now Josie was paying attention. Mrs Paige was no fool – Josie was always interested in the house and what would become of it. She was happy for Aileen to remain in it so long as she was single and paying for the upkeep, keeping her inheritance warm. But she wouldn’t want the house sold and the money distributed; all or nothing was always Josie’s way.

  ‘Well we can worry about that when we know if it’s true or not, can’t we.’ Mrs Paige laughed, which unnerved Josie. Her mother rarely laughed. ‘Oh yes, my dear, we can worry about it then – or you can.’

  *

  Emily Haycock had been writing out the last of her notes and preparing for the January intake when Biddy came in with the tea tray. The room filled with the smell of hot buttered crumpets.

  ‘Isn’t it shocking?’ said Biddy.

  Emily put the cap back on her pen. She instantly knew what Biddy was talking about and sat back in her chair. ‘Sit and have one with me, Biddy,’ she said, having taken note of the second cup on the tray and the excessive number of crumpets. She had to think on her feet in order to keep one step ahead of Biddy. She was such a strong character and if Emily let her, she would completely take over the school of nursing, so a line had to be drawn. But Emily didn’t mind – Biddy was like a mother to her.

  Biddy sat down in the opposite chair. ‘I can’t get her out of my mind. Is there a kinder woman anywhere? Why would the good Lord choose her?’ she said, visibly distressed. ‘Everyone is talking about it, you know. We
all feel so lost, we don’t know what to do. Some of us have spoken to her pretty much every day for the last forty years.’

  ‘Maybe he’s chosen her because she’s so good, he can’t wait to take her to a better place?’ Emily said, hoping to offer a shred of comfort. But in truth she felt so desperately sad herself, it didn’t even feel like Christmas Eve.

  Without asking, Biddy placed a crumpet on a plate and held it out to Emily. They both jumped as the phone on Emily’s desk rang. Biddy poured the tea while Emily answered it.

  ‘Well, Biddy is with me, Matron, I’m sure there’s something we can do.… No, I think that’s a very good idea, if Dr Mackintosh thinks she’s up to it?’

  The conversation continued and Biddy had polished off her first crumpet by the time Emily put the phone down. She waited – she knew Emily so well. She understood that Emily needed to process her thoughts and that if she sat and didn’t speak and bided her time, Emily would tell her everything. Biddy had decorated the office and looked around with a degree of satisfaction at the holly branches on the windowsill. The fire needed more coal and she would attend to that before she left the room.

  Emily gave a big sigh and transferred her gaze from the handset to Biddy. ‘She only has days,’ she said in a voice leaden with sadness.

  Biddy dropped her second crumpet on to the plate and her hand flew to bless herself. ‘Holy Mary, mother of God.’

  ‘Matron is going to wheel her bed over to ward three tomorrow. She said she’s bright and chatty, although a little bit away with the fairies because of the diamorphine, but she’s confident that spending her day with the children will make her happier than being alone on ward four. She’ll wheel her back before visiting. Matron wants to do something for her, but she doesn’t know what. I hate to use the words “send off”, but you know what I mean. Something to show her she was appreciated… loved, even.’