Elly paced the tiny space, her arms tightly folded, her voice thick with rage. ‘I’m tired of running into brick walls, tired of boards and committees and superior professionals whose aim in life is to thwart me. If it were just me they injured it wouldn’t matter so much. Did you see that child’s face? Did you? Just an abused waif, sick and terrified, and I’m prevented from helping her. One day soon, through no fault of her own, she’ll die in a gutter of her venereal disease and not one soul will care.’
‘We know you care very much, Elly. I care too. Until I came here I never knew the world held such misery. But you of all people must know it does no good to batter yourself emotionally when you have no power to overcome such problems.’
‘I should have the power. Who are these men to tell me whom I may nurse? Who are they to say to one: “you shall be helped”, and to another, “you shall be turned away”?’ Elly ground her teeth.
‘They’re the medical officers appointed by the Board which runs this hospital. They and their overlords may be arrogant, penny-pinching, moralistic and totally lacking in empathy, but they are in charge. You have to come to terms with it, Elly.’
Elly stopped pacing and faced her.
‘You’re absolutely right. I know I must work deviously, not confront them as a man would, but, oh, Jo-Beth, it hurts me.’
Jo-Beth put comforting arms around her friend. ‘I know. I know. Yet if you hadn’t become so upset you’d have seen a possible solution. Have you forgotten the nuns who sometimes visit in the wards?’
‘The Sisters of Charity from the refuge. How stupid of me. Of course they’d take in the child. I’ll visit them this evening.’ Elly straightened up. ‘I’m back to normal now, thanks to you, my dear, and heartily ashamed of my fall from common-sense.’
‘Nonsense. You just need a cup of tea.’
‘There isn’t time. I’ve sent for a supply of leeches for little Lilly Smith. She should be bled slowly, rather than cupped. It’s not a pleasant process, and I’m hoping she’ll sleep through it.’ Not to mention the rest of the ward, she silently added.
‘I’ll come with you. We can talk while we work.’
Fighting down the disgust that the voracious little grubs always engendered, Elly accepted the jar of leeches from the porter, lifting them one-by-one, black and dripping, from the fresh water to lay them on a cloth. Their slimy segments contracted at her touch, curling up like snails without their shells.
Jo-Beth shuddered at the sight. ‘Horrible parasites. How do we attach them?’
Elly put a finger to her lips, indicating the sleeping child. ‘They’ll do it themselves, with their sucker mouths. But we lay them over a bone so that, if necessary, pressure may be applied.’ Elly carefully wiped Lilly’s forearms with a few droplets of milk, then laid three of the leeches on each arm. They attached immediately and began to gorge. The child stirred without waking.
White-faced, Jo-Beth pressed a hand over her mouth and swallowed. ‘When do you remove them?’
‘That, too, the leeches decide. When they’ve drunk their fill they simply let go and roll off. We can’t pull them without tearing the skin. However, a little salt sprinkled will encourage them to release it.’ Elly smiled bleakly. ‘You will grow accustomed.’
She had drawn a screen around the patient’s bed – an innovation of her own about which the Board had not been consulted – and felt as private with Jo-Beth as it was possible to be in this communal life of theirs. Now she took time to study her, finally saying, ‘Jo-Beth, what’s amiss? I know you’re not happy and it’s understandable, given all that’s happened. Yet I feel there’s more.’
Jo-Beth dragged her fascinated gaze from the swelling leeches. ‘Very little escapes you, does it? However, I’ve decided I must not add to your burdens. It’s unimportant, I assure you.’ She rose and walked away to the window overlooking the courtyard.
Elly was struck by her grace. The brown uniform gown, an honorary distinction from the trainee nurses, could not mar her elegant carriage or the features refined by grief and hard work. Just the hint of a white ruffle at throat and wrist lightened the severity of her dress, and her red-gold hair, despite being drawn back from a centre part and confined in a roll at the nape, was still a glory. Elly knew that this woman, however kind-hearted, would never be suited to a nursing career.
She said on impulse, ‘Captain McAndrews is growing most attentive. He’s highly connected, I believe.’
Jo-Beth turned. ‘That’s so. He’s also refreshingly modest concerning his family connections. Yes, I do enjoy his company, and no, I have no intention of encouraging him to make any advances. How could I put him in Ethan’s place? How could you imagine I’d even dream of it?’
‘Of course not. The idea is unthinkable.’ But was it? Jo-Beth couldn’t grieve forever. She had youth and beauty, and when at times she forgot her sadness, a vitality which drew others to her. She’d certainly captivated Captain McAndrews, a perfectly nice man, as Elly had been assured; a man who could offer Jo-Beth the kind of life she was always intended to lead.
Hearing a sigh and a yawn, Elly leapt up to lean over her small patient and cover her arms with a sheet.
‘Hello, darling. Did you have a good sleep? I have a surprise for you if you will lie quite still while I fix your arms.’ She called Jo-Beth to hold the sheet in place across the girl’s chest, while Elly, herself, raised the other end and removed the engorged leeches. As she had predicted, most of them had rolled off Lilly’s arms onto the cot and, when encouraged with salt, the last one released its hold to join its fellows. With them back in the jar and hidden under the cot, Elly could then staunch the bleeding with wax and olive oil plasters. Smiling, she removed the sheet, patting the child’s thin cheek, and was surprised to receive a wan smile in return.
‘S’prise,’ Lilly said, hopefully.
‘You shall certainly have your surprise, my dear. Jo-Beth, do you suppose our little friend would like a visit from a real monkey?’
~*~
Christmas loomed on the horizon and the hot weather blasted in from the deserts, driving a dry westerly wind across Sydney, flinging up stinging particles in faces, sifting beneath doors and windowsills, scraping nerves and generally creating misery.
In the hospital Elly dragged the Weekly Committee mercilessly through wards heated like ovens with the windows closed against the wind and stench, inventing reasons to keep the members sweating into their unsuitably heavy jackets, even denying them the comfort of the boardroom and a glass of sherry by arranging to have the room redecorated “for Christmas”. The operating theatres were hell-holes. If she could, Elly would have locked the Committee in to experience vicariously every moment of terror and pain suffered there; but they made good their escape, then found reasons to send others in their place the following week.
Elly’s expression grew more grim as she went back to battle with raging infections and fever-induced delirium with no ice available and the water supply to the Hyde Park bore now regularly cut off between the hours of three p.m. and six p.m. Any patients admitted between those hours, even those for emergency surgery, remained unbathed.
When Pearl knocked at Matron’s office door late one night she found her buried in paperwork. Elly raised a weary head in question.
‘Matron, I have to tell you I will be leaving soon after Christmas.’ Pearl stood formally, hands clasped, her pie frill cap perched incongruously above her long queue.
Elly sighed. ‘We’re off-duty now Pearl. Sit down and give me more details.’
Pearl relaxed and sat down. She surveyed the pile of reports, receipts, submissions. ‘You work so hard, Elly, and I’m sorry to leave you like this. Yet I did warn you that I intended to go to the goldfields when I had enough money saved.’
‘And now you have enough?’ Elly thought how worn the girl looked, like everyone else on staff. Yet light glowed beneath the translucent ivory skin and she had an air of hope and excitement.
‘I believe so. I
don’t want to wait any longer. I need to find Li Po.’
Elly nodded. She understood what drove Pearl to leave sanctuary of a sort to brave the unknown hazards of the road. But she had to say what she felt.
‘Pearl, have you considered that you’ll be hundreds of miles away in a bleak, comfortless area where strong men die of the conditions? You’re not robust and you will have no protector in a brash and lawless society living and dying by their own rules. The risks are enormous.’
Pearl’s face set in stubborn lines. ‘I have to go. I have to find Li Po.’
‘Do you have any idea of where to begin?’
‘I shall go to each camp in turn, starting from the town of Bathurst over the ranges.’
‘Can I help? Do you need food, medical equipment?’ Elly didn’t waste her breath with further talk of danger, and she certainly wouldn’t point out her own need for Pearl’s trained hands and mind. Letting her go without argument was part of their agreement.
Pearl graciously accepted the offer of a medical kit and the loan of a canvas satchel. ‘Also, would you return this package to J.G. when you see him? It’s something he loaned me which I promised to give back. Only, please wait until I’m gone.’
Containing her curiosity, Elly put the package away in her cabinet then began to discuss possible dates, with Pearl agreeing to wait until mid-January to book a place on a wagon going over the mountains to Bathurst. She would not take a coach seat, which would be more expensive. Elly also agreed, reluctantly, to take care of the little monkey, Peanut, still technically under official banishment but in fact living in the nurses’ new quarters over the large store-room, sunning herself on the windowsill by day and enjoying the nuts and fruit supplied by Pearl.
At the door Pearl turned. ‘Elly, you have been kind. You are my friend...’
‘That’s what a friend is for. You owe me nothing, Pearl, although the hospital owes you a great deal. I’d like to thank you for your unstinting help.’ Elly added earnestly, ‘And, Pearl, if you will be advised by me, on your travels you’ll wear your Chinese trousers and jacket and revert to being a youth.’
Pearl’s secretive smile materialised. ‘I intend to. They served me well before, and ragged as they are, they’ll serve again. That jacket has many uses. Goodnight, Elly.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘Do you like elephants?’
Elly, immersed once more in her paperwork on a hot December evening, raised her head to blink at her reflection in the glass-fronted cupboard opposite. Elephants? Why did she imagine she’d heard such a question?
‘If not elephants, perhaps kangaroos and emus?’
She swivelled towards the door and saw Paul Gascoigne’s tall frame draped against the jamb. Something in her leapt at the sight, which promptly made her stiffen and eye him with cool enquiry.
‘I thought they might be more enticing than just Pepper and me,’ he explained. ‘As an inducement to an outing, that is.’
‘I don’t go on –’
‘Ah, but it’s Christmastide, or almost. Everyone goes on outings then. It’s a commandment.’
Elly relaxed into a smile and beckoned him in. ‘Whose commandment?’
‘Mine. I just brought it down as number eleven.’
‘Don’t be sacrilegious.’
‘Madame! Nothing could be further from my mind. Anyway, if it isn’t a commandment it ought to be. We should be made to celebrate the birth of the Christ Child. It’s a joyous occasion, whatever else we believe.’
This was a new Paul, thought Elly, a lighter-hearted man intent on cajoling her with the same methods used by J.G.
He seemed to catch her thought. ‘Don’t dare tell me I sound like J.G. He’s already swollen-headed over his success with the ladies, even daring to offer me lessons.’
‘I don’t think you need any.’ Elly indicated the chair opposite her desk. ‘But if you wish to prick the bladder of J.G’s self-importance, just mention a certain lady named Pearl.’
Paul laughed as he carefully lowered himself into the chair.
‘Have you hurt yourself, Mr Gascoigne?’
‘A bruise from a badly-aimed brick. It’s little enough. Can’t you bring yourself to use my Christian name after all we’ve been to each other, camp-fire friends, co-travellers, companions in celebration?’
She said slowly, ‘I suppose I may. Paul, then. At least in private.’ Her expression was as mischievous as J.G’s. ‘My name is Eleanor.’
‘What a strict, corseted name. Lovely for introductions to the Governor, yet hardly to be used by a friend. I shall call you Nell.’
‘You dare!’
‘I won’t, of course, Elly. Now, to celebrate our new mutual status, friend, will you accompany me on an outing to see the elephants?’
Elly stared. ‘You really mean it? Where?’
‘Botany Bay. Have you never heard of the Sir Joseph Banks Hotel’s Annual Boxing Day Gala? It includes a circus, menagerie, dancing and dining and a walk along the beach to follow.’
Despite her resolution, longing overwhelmed her at the thought of such festivity. How wonderful to get away from the eternal tensions under this roof, just for a day. And elephants! She had a momentary vision of a set of scales, with the hospital balanced on one side and a heap of ponderous grey pachyderms on the other, tipping the scale downward.
With the air of playing a trump card, Paul added, ‘Of course one travels by sea, down the coast on the most magnificent steamer in Port Jackson. It even has a bar and quadrille band for entertainment aboard, to while away the tedium of the voyage.’
Tedium! Elly thought of the sea-wind blowing in her hair, of music, laughter and companionship, and she succumbed.
‘Thank you. I’d love to come, as you must well realise. I’ll arrange with the others for my time away to be covered. Praise Heaven Pearl doesn’t leave until mid-January.’
Paul showed no elation. However there was a hint of self-satisfaction there, enough to cause her a few qualms. Had she given way too easily? Was this a mistake? Her doubt turned to annoyance. But she’d accepted the invitation; she’d go and she would enjoy herself. To compensate for her inner turmoil, she abandoned her intended enquiry into the incident of the brick. It might be childish of her, but if Paul wanted to play at political Pattacake with opponents who reinforced their arguments with violence, it could remain his own affair.
~*~
Christmas Day passed swiftly in the usual duties combined with snatched attendance at Divine Service as and when staff could be spared. Fortunately, there were no new admissions to the women’s wards and by the following morning Elly knew that she could leave her nurses with a clear conscience.
Pearl and Jo-Beth saw her off joyfully, assuring her of their ability to handle all conceivable problems. An hour later Paul led her up the gangplank of the Sir John Harvey with an admiring glance at her striped blue and white cotton gown and her frilled parasol adjusted to shade the new straw bonnet.
‘Have you just stepped out of a bandbox, Elly? How do you manage to appear so fresh?’
Delighted with her appearance, and the promise of the day, she sparkled back at him like a girl just out of school.
‘It’s a trick no lady will reveal,’ she confided as she stepped down onto the deck. ‘Oh, how I’ve dreamed of this trip. I haven’t been on the water since our excursion down from Port Stephens, when I behaved so rudely to you.’
‘We’ve agreed to forget our differences. Come up to the bows for the best view of our progress down the harbour. If you’re extremely well behaved I might even buy you a beer.’
For Elly, the trip was all she had hoped for, enveloped in a halcyon blue and gold aura of sunlight, fresh air and freedom. As they passed between the sandstone cliffs, emerging into the ocean and turning south, her cares fell away. She took off her bonnet to feel the breeze, confident that the false coiled plaits she wore pinned over her ears covered the tips of her hair and hid its true length.
Strolling abou
t the deck on Paul’s arm, she exchanged greetings with fellow passengers all dressed for festivity. They were a living pattern of Sydney Town: tradesmen and their wives; apprentices and butcher’s boys; milliners and maids; clerks, booksellers, waiters, teachers and even the poulterer who supplied the hospital’s needs. Elly bowed sedately when they met and passed on, her eyes twinkling as she confided to Paul that she scarcely recognised Mr Scrubshaw without his apron.
Paul whispered how he’d already exchanged greetings with his wine merchant. ‘And over there, the exceedingly well-turned out gentleman with the flower in his lapel, he’s Hanslow the director of our fashionable funeral obsequies.’
Elly cast a critical eye on the lady accompanying Mr Hanslow, deciding she could not be his wife. In fact, several of the ladies aboard had the sort of dashing air about them seldom seen in consorts.
As before, Paul caught her thought. ‘It’s mixed company. I thought you’d rather enjoy it. The stuffier carriage folk will be at the Gala, but they’ll go by road, through the heat and dust.’
‘You’re quite right,’ Elly agreed. ‘I wouldn’t have missed the boat-trip for any money. I couldn’t have thrown off my bonnet and kicked up my heels and drunk a beer with the ‘carriage folk’ on the watch. Oh, I’m as carefree as one of those gulls.’ She pirouetted lightly, pointing to the cluster of birds wheeling overhead. ‘Thank you for bringing me, Paul.’
‘The gratitude is all on my side. Christmas is a lonely time for me.’ Elly’s attention was caught by a note of more than ordinary sadness behind the words. Remembering Paul’s revelations on the hospital steps not long ago, she snapped open her parasol and leaned back on the ship’s rail, choosing her response with care.
‘It can be lonely with no-one to share our celebrations. Have you no-one left at all, Paul?’
His profile revealed little, although his hands clutched the rail as if he’d embed them there. ‘No-one. Oh, there is a remote cousin with a wife and child living up near Maitland on the Hunter River. I have no contact with them. They migrated in ‘48 then moved on immediately to seek employment on the land. They came originally from Calais, so I never knew them back in Yorkshire.’
A HAZARD OF HEARTS Page 19