‘He should of course. But that’s a luxury we are denied. Now I’ll show you the lower floor, with the operating theatres, as well as the Board Room.’
‘Could we see the women’s wards, first?’ Elly thoughts were grim. It would be better to know all she had to face.
The Matron frowned. ‘I don’t see why. They’re just the same.’ But flicking a glance at Elly’s determined expression she weakened. ‘Oh, very well.’
Elly followed her down the corridor, well satisfied with their first clash of wills. They stopped outside a room where a minor battle seemed to be raging, and entered.
‘I won’t. I won’t,’ screeched a young woman with ragged shift and unkempt hair streaming as she ran down the ward pursued by another woman in cap and apron brandishing a ladle.
‘Yes you will, Annie Moon,’ the presumed nurse said, cornering her prey and advancing on her with ladle poised.
Fascinated, Elly watched her throw her considerable weight against the recalcitrant Annie Moon then literally pour the contents of the ladle down her throat. Annie spluttered, cried and sank down in a heap in the corner.
The nurse poked at a childish figure in the next bed.
‘You’re next, Charlotte. Open wide.’ She went to a stone jar standing on the sill and refilled the ladle. When she turned around Charlotte had gone under the bed. Dragged out, she was pinned uncompromisingly to the mattress, her nose held and the dose administered. Charlotte choked, spat and bit her tormentor’s arm. A vicious slap knocked her flat on the bed where she began to sob, her thin frame shaking as if with an ague.
Elly’s eyes questioned the Matron, who shrugged. ‘Nurse Jenkins administers the black cordial because she has better control. They don’t like it.’
‘The black cordial?’
‘To open the bowels. It’s a rule of mine that each patient has a dose each day to cleanse the system.’
‘Surely an aperient may not suit all circumstances, recovering surgical cases, for instance?’
‘No exceptions,’ said Matron, firmly. ‘Rules are made to be followed.’
Elly swallowed a retort, saying instead, ‘Your Nurse Jenkins is severe. What does the girl Charlotte suffer from?’
‘She’s subject to epileptic fits. Someone brought her in off the street last night, unconscious.’
‘Has a doctor examined her?’
‘Not yet. There’s been no time. Mr Wykeham will see her this afternoon.’
Meanwhile, thought Elly, the poor child is subjected to the black cordial while being bullied into another fit. However, she held her tongue and followed the Matron down the ward as she greeted each patient, enquiring kindly about their comfort. Some ignored her, going on with their moaning and mumbling as if too preoccupied to attend to anything else. Others answered according to their natures, sprightly, grumpy or with a flow of invective drawn from the back slums. Matron answered all with a smile then passed on to the end of the room where a card game was in progress.
Ignoring the players she pounced on a bottle half-hidden under a cot. ‘Jenkins, get rid of this.’
‘I’ll do it for ye.’ A woman of middle years with a grossly swollen belly, picked up the bottle and with one heave raised the window. A wave of noxious fumes poured in, making Elly gag.
‘Shut it at once.’ Matron sprang forward to slam the window down. Jenkins grabbed the bottle and gave the fat woman a push, knocking her over.
‘What on earth is that?’ asked Elly. ‘A tannery?’
‘The drains,’ snarled the woman on the floor. ‘The privies,’ said another. ‘Doctor Houston just farted.’ It was Annie Moon. She poked out her tongue at Nurse Jenkins then hid behind the Matron.
Matron sighed. ‘It’s so unfortunate. Since our move to the central building we’ve suffered terribly from proximity to both the privies and the mortuary. Also the drains need repair. The cesspool is right under our windows.’
Elly didn’t hide her shock. ‘But that’s appalling! It’s so insanitary.’
Matron shrugged. ‘We keep the windows and doors closed while we continue to petition the Clerk of Works. Nothing happens quickly here, as you will discover, my dear.’ She closed her lips, as if regretting her confidences to a mere underling.
I wonder whether I want to make any more discoveries, thought Elly, half-regretting her decision.
Nurse Jenkins’ sharp nose twitched and, elbowing aside two patients, she marched up to Matron. Her carroty hair peeked out from under a grubby cap, vying for notice with a face pin-pointed with freckles.
Her pale eyes drilled into Elly. ‘Is she coming on the staff?’
‘Perhaps,’ answered Matron. ‘I’m showing her around the hospital.’
Jenkins’ gaze would have penetrated a brick wall. ‘You never did it for the others, or for me. Is she going for your place, then?’
‘Manners, Jenkins. Manners, if you please.’ Matron Box seemed more amused than affronted. She moved towards the door, trailed by the nurse still firing questions at her.
Elly followed slowly, taking in details: the crowding of two or three to a bed; the noise; the lack of privacy, all of which she’d expect to find in Bedlam, not in a general hospital. There were mentally disturbed patients mixed in with the seriously ill and helpless, children and frail aged, while it seemed the preferred form of treatment was coercion. And while the ward appeared superficially clean, the boards remained unhealthily damp from scrubbing, and in places the ceiling hung down, swollen from rain seeping through an unpatched roof.
She was hit with a sudden urge to take over, to change matters. It would not be easy, but in time, with patience and hard work and the right staff , it could be done. Wasn’t this what she’d longed for – a challenge to show the world what nursing could be? If she could ingratiate herself with Matron, make herself indispensable, then suggest small improvements...
In that moment she made her decision. She would join the nursing staff and let them discover, too late, what a whirlwind they had reaped.
~*~
Two months later Elly sat in the narrow room that was Matron’s power centre, pondering her immediate future. Copies of old reports lay before her on the table, demonstrating what would be expected from her at the next inspection by the weekly committee, plus the more detailed report required for the monthly meeting of the Board of Directors. Since Mrs Box’s recent collapse from liver disease and her subsequent departure, Elly had found herself Acting Lady Superintendent by default. None of the other nurses was remotely capable of administration, and at the hastily convened special meeting of the Board Elly had been all but begged to take on the position, temporarily.
The only protests, predictably from the unamiable Jenkins, had been swept aside, and Elly had proceeded to clear out the rubbish of ages from her predecessor’s wall cabinets. There were bundles of yellowed papers including old laundry lists, details of patients long dead or departed, notes on ward requirements from the dispensary and stores. Amongst the mildewed sheets were rusted canisters whose purpose she could only guess, and jars with their mysterious contents hardened and caked at the bottom. She had found only a few useful utensils and some linen that could still be salvaged. Judging by the vermin trails in the dust no-one had bothered to look inside for months, and her opinion of Matron Box had sunk. The woman had clearly been unwell, but this was the accumulation of years.
Elated at her sudden rise to a position where she could really bring about change, Elly scrubbed the shelves herself, listing her requirements, which included a supply of paper pads for reports and some facilities for making a hot drink. She expected to spend a good deal of time in this tiny space, keeping a finger on the pulse of the wards.
Today, beyond the wall the usual noise swelled, although kept within reasonable limits by Elly’s carefully timed appearances. Despite closed windows, the all-prevailing drains forced themselves upon her notice. The breakfast oats had been burnt and she’d thrown them away, so she was ravenous and, worst of all, sh
e’d hardly slept, having spent the night pursuing frightful hordes of vermin which emerged in the darkness to attack every living thing in the hospital.
Rats could be driven off, but the bugs marched in loathsome armies across the beds, biting and tormenting to madness, and impervious to any counter-attack. Something would have to be done. Soap and water to scrub down walls and floors; fresh whitewash wherever possible; incoming patients’ clothes steamed over burning sulphur before being stored away; and the patients themselves scoured from crown to heels and back again. There was not one bath in the whole of the hospital, while all water had to be carried in great casks from the bore in Hyde Park. Perhaps she could dunk the patients in the casks!
Elly stifled a yawn then set to work drawing up her plan of action. The Board of Directors would be the focus of her campaign to improve nursing training and status, but she had to move carefully. There’d been no mention of change on the day she had been formally instated, shaking hands with The Hon. Edward Deas Thomson, Colonial Secretary and Board President, then with the Vice-President, Captain Dumaresq. The Resident Surgeon and Apothecary, Mr Hugh Houston, who had almost knocked her down in the corridor that first day, had wished her well then rushed away again.
There were other physicians and surgeons present, as well as the majority of directors, all male. Yet Elly was conscious of one pair of eyes somewhere in the crowd, dark brown liquid eyes in a swarthy face, fixed on her with uncomfortable intensity. Elly left the Board Room soon after the business of the meeting had been concluded, and without having met the owner of that disturbing stare, although the memory of it went with her. But she left with the thing she most wanted, a challenge, which had begun to resemble Hercules’ Augean Stables.
Each day at five she rose from her thin, lumpy mattress to wash and dress in a room no larger than a cupboard, breakfasted with the other nurses in a draughty hall distressingly near to the privies, then began her day with a ward inspection. She retired at night after the last patient had settled, which could be any time up to midnight, too weary to do more than wash her face and hang up her clothes on their peg, then put out the candle.
The days raced by, full and hectic. Only in those early waking moments before she forced her feet out of bed onto the floor did she allow her mind to wander into personal fields. Sometimes she thought about Paul Gascoigne. Yet more often his quizzical regard faded in the memory of a darker, more intrusive gaze that had disturbed her in the Board Room, and whose owner remained a mystery.
~*~
A knock sounded at her door and Nurse Jenkins sidled in, her thin mouth surly as she began a litany of complaints.
‘That Sarah Hodges has taken to her bed with the quinsy and now there’s only me and old Betsy to look after the two wards. The kitchen’s had another fire so there won’t be no dinner today. And what about the black cordial? Matron Box –’
‘There will be no black cordial, as I told you. I am Acting Matron now, so you will kindly remember your orders.’ Elly held the impertinent stare coolly, until Jenkins’ eyes dropped. ‘As for the dinner, if it’s anything like yesterday’s or the day before, we’re better without it. I’ve put on a boiler with beef bones and vegetables and another cook will start tomorrow, after that appalling kitchen has been cleaned out. It’s no more than a lean-to, set far too close to those even more dreadful privies.’
Jenkins smirked, and Elly folded her lips on further complaints of her own. ‘Get back to your work, please. I am reminded that the commodes left in the wards overnight were not emptied this morning until eight of the clock. This should be done by six at the latest, with any spillage cleaned up immediately. I’ll see Nurse Hodges and decide what might be done for her. Meanwhile, please be so kind as to relieve Betsy Haybrook of any liquor she’s carrying on her person, or has secreted in the wards. You may warn her I shall conduct a thorough inspection later today before the official Committee rounds.’
Jenkins flounced out, leaving Elly to investigate Nurse Hodges’ claims of illness. She had already met opposition from the so-called nursing staff, male and female, who appeared to have the merest smattering of medical knowledge with little common sense between them. What they lacked in training they made up in good-will towards the patients, but their clumsy efforts often caused pain and difficulty while contributing little towards the patients’ recovery.
She had already dismissed two maids – both of them dirty, light- fingered and no loss to the hospital – but the nursing staff were no better. Of the three women, one was elderly and feeble and fond of gin, and the other just plain lazy, while Jenkins herself clearly intended to be as obstructive as possible within the bounds of dismissal. The wards men, coming under the Superintendent’s control, resented any suggestions from Elly and could not be compelled.
Nurse Hodges sat up in bed in the cramped, airless nurses’ quarters, sipping from a brown bottle which she hastily hid under the blanket when Elly entered. Her cap had fallen over her forehead and strings of hair hung across her face.
‘‘Mornin’ Matron,’ she wheezed. ‘I got the quinsy real bad. Can’t swallow a morsel. Can’t hardly get a word out.’
‘Indeed, I’m sorry to hear it Nurse Hodges. Be so good as to open your mouth.’
Sarah gaped, and a little wooden stick appeared in Elly’s hand, flashing up to depress Sarah’s tongue. Elly turned the woman’s face to the window, peered down her throat, then withdrew the stick, placing it in a bag at her waist.
‘It’s not quinsy, you’ll be glad to know. A small amount of inflammation with mucous, nothing serious. You may get up and dress. Be ready to resume your duties within twenty minutes, if you please.’
‘But... me throat. ‘Tis raw as a whore’s arse – ‘
‘Be quiet. There’s nothing wrong with you except laziness.’ Elly stripped back the blanket ruthlessly. ‘Out you come.’
Sarah slid her legs over the bedside, glaring. If she was a cat she’d spit, thought Elly, smiling despite her annoyance, and pointing to the brown bottle.
‘Come along. I’ll give you a cup of tea before you start. It will do you far more good than “Mother’s Ruin”.’
She left Sarah struggling into her patched woollen gown, sweat and food-stained and bursting at the seams, and made a mental note to order decent, washable uniforms. Her mind dwelt on staff deficiencies, and she knew she’d have to approach the Committee about an increase. Three nurses simply couldn’t do the work. Also, Elly wanted someone on duty in her wards during the night. But where could she find reliable women?
Only four members of the twelve appointed to the Weekly Committee made their appearance, full of importance and more interested in the refreshments awaiting them in the Boardroom after the inspection. They had no desire to view the wards men’s or servants’ quarters above the ruinous kitchen, nor any other out-buildings. They would inspect the wards and, possibly, the theatres. They were busy men, Acting Lady Superintendent Ballard must understand.
Only too well, Elly thought, as she led the way upstairs.
The warm day had encouraged effluvia from the drains to seep through the floorboards, causing handkerchiefs to be clapped to noses. The men’s wards were inspected, the patients questioned as to their treatment by the staff and their answers filed away mentally to be forgotten, as Elly could see. Nobody mentioned the obvious fact that someone had failed to reach a privy in time, although the party left in some haste to inspect the female wards.
The first seemed orderly enough. There was a distinct lurch about Nurse Haybrook’s walk, while the fumes of spirit wreathing her head would have made lighting a match inadvisable. But to Elly’s relief the nurse managed to stay upright until the party left for the second female ward.
Here Elly’s eagle eye swept ahead, detecting no fault. Nurse Jenkins stood at attention at one end of the room while those patients who could sit up, did so, with smiles pinned on their faces. Yet Elly felt uneasy. It was unusually quiet. Then suddenly the ward erupted. Every mouth op
ened, every woman and child screamed. Missiles flew from bed to bed, blankets were flung back and patients began to dance half-naked, shouting and singing lewd verses. Elly surprised a satisfied expression on Nurse Jenkins’ face, before she recollected and, with a frown at Elly, plunged into the fray, hitting out and making matters worse.
The stunned committee departed en masse to confront Elly in the corridor.
‘Disgraceful. Lack of control. A serious error made. A report to be submitted. Utter madhouse.’
These words and more filtered through to Elly, to be instantly obliterated by the rage shaking her like an ague. Jenkins! That sly little snake. She’d planned this uproar to discredit Elly, and succeeded. Why the patients had co-operated had yet to be discovered although, she suspected threats or bribery.
Elly drew herself up to face her accusers. ‘Gentlemen, pray excuse me while I deal with this emergency. If you have completed your inspection, I invite you to partake of refreshments in the Board Room with Mister Houston, who awaits you downstairs in his room.’ She nodded coldly, opened the door and stepped back into anarchy.
CHAPTER TEN
Jo-Beth stood on the quarter deck and watched the Captain take his sextant from its case, handling the instrument carefully. Sunlight flashed on the brass fittings, dazzling her vision.
‘You see the sun is almost at its zenith,’ he told her, ‘which determines the ship’s noon time. We measure the angle with the horizon to compare the ship time with Greenwich Time as per the chronometer, then convert the difference to degrees. Each hour equals fifteen degrees, and thus we determine our longitude.’
He turned to the mate, who also had his sextant raised to meet the horizon. ‘Ready?’
‘Aye, sir.’
The two men lowered their instruments at the same time, and the Captain said, ‘Then make it noon.’
The mate raised an arm to signal the striking of eight bells. The ship’s day had officially started.
‘How do you determine latitude?’ asked Jo-Beth, anxious for any excuse to stay by Ethan’s side. He was circumspect before his men, but his eyes rested on her at this moment, bright with desire, following her slightest move. Her lips tingled as if kissed and she had to look away, unwilling to reveal the turbulence he could arouse in her. She’d never felt like this before in her life. It was exhilarating. New sensations, erotic thoughts crowded out common sense. She wanted nothing more than to be in this man’s arms, shut away from the rest of the world. How painful strong emotions could be, and how easily one could lose control.
A HAZARD OF HEARTS Page 9