Coming Home to Liverpool

by Kate Eastham

  Seeing her friend slumped in her chair, with the room growing darker around her, Maud was instantly concerned.

  ‘Miss Fairchild,’ she said gently, approaching the chair. And then, not getting any response, she spoke again, more firmly. ‘Miss Fairchild.’

  ‘What … what? No, thank you, I don’t want any …’ Then, opening her eyes, Miss Fairchild squinted for a moment and tried to smile.

  ‘How are you?’ Maud asked softly, crouching down beside the chair and taking her friend’s hand. ‘Take your time. That’s it … let your breathing settle.’

  ‘Oh, I’m all right,’ murmured Miss Fairchild. ‘Better now, seeing your lovely face. But as we know, I’m not going to get any better, am I?’

  Maud gave her hand a squeeze. ‘That might be the case, but there still might be things we can do to help you at least feel a bit better.’

  Miss Fairchild sighed and then tried to say something else about not being sure if it was worth it – mumbled words that Maud couldn’t quite catch.

  ‘Well, let’s see, shall we?’ said Maud, glancing around the room. ‘Right, for a start, are you happy for me to light the lamp? I know it’s not completely dark outside, but it does feel a bit gloomy in here.’

  ‘Mmm,’ murmured Miss Fairchild, turning her mouth down. Then, with a dismissive gesture of her hand, ‘Do what you want, Maud, I don’t really care.’ And then she closed her eyes.

  Once the lamp was lit, there was an instant warm glow in the room. Then Maud went straight to the window and pulled up the sash, just a little, to let some air in. Turning her attention to the open fire that had died down almost to ash, she took some kindling from the side and used the bellows to give it some draught. Just the crackle of the wood as it caught and bloomed into flame made a difference and then, when it was well alight, Maud took the fire tongs and placed some choice pieces of shiny black coal carefully on top of the wood.

  When she glanced back to Miss Fairchild, she could see that her eyes were open and she was starting to smile.

  ‘You are just as skilful as you ever were, Maud. None of the housemaids, either before or since, have been able to manage a fire as well as you. They either neglect it, and let it go out, or they throw on too much coal and leave a smoking, smouldering mess.’

  ‘Well, I learnt from the best,’ said Maud, straightening up from the fire and surveying the room again.

  ‘Move my chair a little, will you, Maud, if you can? So I can see out of the window.’

  Maud managed to twist the chair just enough to afford her friend a view.

  As she did, Miss Fairchild gave a wheezy sigh. ‘I’m so useless,’ she said. ‘Even if I stand up for a few moments, I’m completely out of breath. Nurse Ashworth has to get two of the footmen to carry me to bed now. Just imagine … I’m such a useless lump.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Maud.

  ‘Bless you, Maud, but you know that’s not true. I’m not even half the woman I was. Remember how I used to stride through this house with the keys at my belt? Making sure all was in order, and the staff were doing as they were told.’

  ‘I do,’ smiled Maud. ‘And I’m sorry that you are having to bear all of this now, it just doesn’t seem fair. I wish I could do more …’

  ‘Oh no, don’t you worry yourself, Maud. This is the reality of my condition, I just have to withstand it. You know that, don’t you, being a nurse? But even when you were a young girl, coming here straight from your grandmother’s funeral, you knew how life could be. I could see it in your face, that first day. Sat at the kitchen table, no more than a child, with your white face and your big dark eyes. You never spoke one word, but I could see that depth of understanding in you.’

  ‘I remember that day,’ smiled Maud. ‘I’d never sipped tea out of a china cup before. I thought that it must be the Queen’s crockery. I was terrified that I’d drop the cup and break it.’

  ‘Oh, Maud, we’ve both come a long way since that day, haven’t we? And do you know what? Just talking to you about the old days, it seems to work better than any amount of tonic that Nurse Ashworth can administer.’

  ‘Poor Nurse Ashworth,’ murmured Maud. ‘She does seem to do her very best for you, though.’

  ‘She does her best by forcing medicines down my throat,’ chuckled Miss Fairchild.

  Resting back in her chair, she looked at Maud with some of the old life in her eyes. ‘Is there enough light for you to read to me? Our Nurse Ashworth has been proceeding with the book, but she has such a dull reading voice, I always end up falling asleep.’

  ‘Well, I’ll try, but I can’t promise to add any more colour than Nurse Ashworth,’ said Maud, taking the Jane Austen off the side and pulling over the footstool so that she could sit close to the lamp. She sat upright and held the book square, with both hands, and then cleared her throat. ‘Chapter nine. Mr Knightley might quarrel with her, but Emma could not quarrel with herself …’

  ‘Ha,’ laughed Miss Fairchild, ‘I love the way Emma is so self-satisfied. So sure of herself … such a madam. Read on, Maud, read on.’

  Maud was surprised at how much she enjoyed the reading – the act of focusing on the words, feeling the rhythm of them, and being transported back in time to a world that existed well over sixty years ago. She found it very diverting. And as she sat there by the fire, on her footstool, with the scent of Miss Fairchild’s lavender water in the air around her, Maud felt content. She read until she could read no more, and then she remembered the oranges in her bag and pulled one out.

  ‘Ooh, an orange. I haven’t had an orange for years,’ said Miss Fairchild, taking it from Maud’s hand and pressing it to her nose, breathing in the scent of it. ‘There’s a small knife over there on the side … that’s it, yes. It might help you get the peel off.’

  Maud spread her clean handkerchief on her knee as she used the knife to peel and segment the orange. She didn’t like the mess of the juice on her hands, but it was worth it to smell the freshness and see her friend taste the first piece. By the third piece Miss Fairchild had juice running down her chin.

  There was a firm knock at the door and Nurse Ashworth came in, carrying her porcelain plate with the glass medicine pot.

  ‘Miss Fairchild!’ she gasped, glaring at her patient, who was sucking the last of the juice from a segment of orange and holding her hand out for more.

  ‘My dear Miss Fairchild,’ she said, with authority, ‘you must not eat any more. Orange is far too acidic for an invalid. I have prepared some ground rice pudding for your tea.’

  ‘Piffle,’ said Miss Fairchild, with more juice running down her chin. ‘Absolute piffle. Of course I can have an orange.’

  ‘Miss Fairchild, Maud!’ insisted Nurse Ashworth, almost stamping her foot.

  ‘I am eating the rest of this orange, Nurse Ashworth, whether you like it or not,’ insisted Miss Fairchild, lifting her head and tilting her chin at a certain angle.

  Maud saw a glimpse of the housekeeper that she had once known, in that one simple movement. And the glint in her eye was unmistakable.

  ‘Well, don’t blame me if your constitution is upset,’ snipped Nurse Ashworth, leaving the porcelain plate on the side table with a decided clatter.

  ‘I won’t,’ smiled Miss Fairchild.

  ‘And Nurse Linklater,’ she said, ‘I trust that I can leave you to ensure that my patient receives her tonic, as prescribed.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ smiled Maud, feeling a little sorry for the nurse. She was, after all, only trying to do her duty.

  ‘Thank you,’ huffed Nurse Ashworth as she left the room.

  Miss Fairchild started to chuckle as soon as the nurse had clicked the door shut. ‘I enjoyed that, Maud,’ she said, rooting up her sleeve for a handkerchief and wiping the juice from her chin. ‘And don’t worry, I’ll soothe her ruffled feathers later. And I’ll take her nasty-tasting tonic. She’s not a bad sort, really, just very rigid with her ideas … How are you getting on at the hospital?’

&nbs
p; ‘Very well, I think,’ said Maud with a smile. ‘Even after only three days it feels like I’m completely at home again. And I love the work on Female Surgical.’

  ‘That’s good, Maud. Thank goodness,’ breathed Miss Fairchild. ‘Oh, and I forgot to say, I’ve had a letter from Alfred, already. He says that he’s doing well and the lessons are excellent.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve just come from the Blue Coat. He seemed very well indeed, and he was doing extra maths. He’s so good, isn’t he?’ laughed Maud.

  ‘Yes, he is. We did a good job there, didn’t we, Maud, rescuing him that day? I know I keep saying this, but you and he are like family to me now, and when something happens to me – and we both know it will – I’ve left everything to you.’

  ‘Oh, Miss Fairchild, don’t be talking like that, honestly—’

  Miss Fairchild held up a hand. ‘No, Maud, I need to know that arrangements are in place.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure. I have no family. You are very special to me, Maud. And all that you’ve achieved with your nursing. I’m so proud of you.’

  ‘Just take a moment,’ soothed Maud, ‘and get your breath back.’

  ‘No, I need to tell you … I have a tidy sum put by, savings from all the years I’ve worked as a housekeeper … Oh, and don’t forget, I want you to have the sewing machine as well,’ she said, pointing to the Singer sitting idly in the corner of the room. ‘As soon as you have an address … I’ll send it for you.’

  ‘Yes, of course, that’s fine,’ said Maud. ‘Now just catch your breath … that’s it. You have helped me so much already. You have been a friend and a mentor, there is no need to give me any inheritance.’

  ‘But I want you to have it, Maud. It will make me very satisfied indeed to know that I am leaving behind the means for you to continue to flourish in your work, to set up a home with that new husband of yours. And, of course, there will be money for Alfred’s education …’

  ‘I understand,’ said Maud, more moved than she could express adequately. ‘I suppose all I can say, then, is thank you.’

  Miss Fairchild nodded. ‘Is that a deal, then?’

  ‘It’s a deal,’ smiled Maud. ‘I don’t know what—’

  Miss Fairchild held up her hand again. ‘No need to say any more, Maud. Now, tell me, when will Harry be back?’

  ‘In about three weeks’ time. And I just can’t wait to see him! I never thought I’d miss him as much as this. I hardly ever saw him when we were in New York together.’

  ‘Ah, but you knew that he was there and he was coming home to you. That’s all that matters,’ said Miss Fairchild, wistfully. ‘You are drawn together, you and Harry, that’s the important thing, and no amount of distance can change that …’

  Miss Fairchild slipped a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes before rousing herself. ‘Now, make sure you send him to see me as soon as possible. I want to have a word with him about the inheritance and his responsibilities … And when you two get settled into a comfortable place of your own, then and only then, will I be ready to depart this world.’

  As Maud walked back through the city, she had no idea how to be or what to feel. The sorrow that she felt for Miss Fairchild’s condition weighed her down. But the prospect of an inheritance was something that, as an orphaned child, she would never have dreamed possible. Even though Miss Fairchild had mentioned it before, Maud had never presumed … but now, after today, she understood that it was important for her friend to know that she could pass something on. That her ‘tidy sum’ could do some good in the world. It was unbelievable, and Maud would have been lying to herself if she tried to deny the excitement of it.

  Just wait till Harry finds out, she thought, as her feet measured the ground beneath her. What a homecoming he will have.

  9

  ‘… no living thing can less lend itself to a “formula” than nursing. Nursing has to nurse living bodies and spirits. It cannot be formulated like engineering.’

  Florence Nightingale

  As they were approaching the door to Female Surgical on their way to work the next morning, Maud and Alice met Miss Merryweather head on.

  ‘Nurse Linklater,’ she called, ‘I need you to go straight to Male Surgical. They have an urgent admission for theatre, and Mr Jones has asked specifically for you.’

  ‘See you later,’ grinned Alice, giving Maud a pat on the arm.

  ‘There’s been a bad accident at the Tate sugar refinery on Love Lane. Some incident involving an out-of-control hoist – two men crushed to death against an iron girder, and another badly injured after jumping down. Sister will give you all the details. Ah, Mr Delaney,’ said Miss Merryweather, catching sight of the orderly tiptoeing by, ‘we need you on Male Surgical in fifteen minutes. Don’t be late.’

  Maud heard his deadpan, ‘Certainly, Miss Merryweather,’ as she turned to walk briskly towards Male Surgical.

  Sister Law was waiting just through the door. ‘Your theatre awaits, Nurse Linklater. But first, let me give you a brief outline of our patient. He is Wilhelm Langer, forty years old, a sugar boiler by trade, originally from Hamburg but moved to Liverpool ten years ago to work at the refinery. Whilst trying to save two men from a hoist ascending at speed, he fell from a height, sustaining a compound fracture of the tibia. They brought him in lying on a window shutter, and the men carrying him came at quite a pace so he was fairly shaken up when he arrived. But we’ve managed to settle him and put a temporary dressing over the wound.

  ‘Mr Jones is keen to reduce the fracture, get the leg straightened and immobilized as soon as possible. So time is of the essence. I’ve already prepared a bowl of egg white, camphorate of alcohol and subacetate of lead, to use for setting the limb. Don’t forget to leave a decent aperture over the open wound when you bandage. And anything else, just ask. Are you clear?’

  ‘Yes, Sister,’ said Maud, keen to get into theatre.

  ‘Mr Delaney has brought us a fracture box from the store room and left it propped against the wall in theatre,’ Sister called over her shoulder as she marched up the ward, with Maud following. ‘It’s best to give extra support for the leg in the box, as well as using the egg white bandage. Are you familiar with its use?’

  ‘I am, Sister,’ called Maud.

  ‘The rest you should be able to work out for yourself, Nurse Linklater,’ she said, stopping abruptly and turning towards Maud, with narrowed eyes. ‘As you know, I keep the theatre room in very workable order.’

  Maud was nodding, and then Sister gestured to the patient lying in his bed. ‘It will be a long job,’ she murmured. ‘The ones who survive a compound fracture, and the inevitable manifestations of a suppurating wound, always are … But this man is the main bread winner for his wife, Clara, and their three children, so we have to make him well. His wife will get some temporary support from Tate’s, though. They do tend to look after the families of their valued workers, at least for a period of time …’

  ‘Mr Langer,’ Sister called gently, as she approached the bed. ‘Mr Langer, this is the nurse I told you about, the one who will be assisting Mr Jones in theatre today.’

  Maud saw the man open his eyes and look in her direction, and then he was scrunching his face up in pain.

  ‘I’ll get you some more laudanum drops immediately,’ said Sister, walking away towards the medicine cabinet.

  Maud crouched down beside Mr Langer’s bed and took his hand. She could see the beads of sweat standing out on his pale forehead, and he was almost in tears with the pain. ‘Sister won’t be long,’ she murmured, ‘and when we get you into theatre, they’ll give you some chloroform. So even if the drops don’t work, you will be out of your pain, at least for a while.’

  ‘Danke,’ murmured the man.

  As Maud waited quietly with Mr Langer, she noted that he was so broad-shouldered that he filled the width of the bed. And his work clothes were encrusted with so much sugar that he actually smelt sweet. His pale brown
hair was neatly parted, his chin showing just one day’s growth of stubble, and there were gentle laughter lines around his eyes.

  As soon as Sister returned with the laudanum, Maud went straight into theatre. Seeing the high wooden table in the middle of the room made her pulse quicken, and she was instantly checking the preparations that had already been made. She noted the bowl of egg white solution and the wooden fracture box, with its hinged sides and footplate. Then she rolled up her sleeves and went to the sink to scrub her hands with carbolic soap, before gathering together some compresses, made from folds of linen, and two muslin bandages and submerging them in the bowl of egg white solution. After rinsing her hands, she gave the table a wipe down and then she prepared the bowls and instruments, laying out a surgical knife with a wooden handle, long-handled dressing forceps, straight forceps, curved forceps, a silver probe and a pair of sharp, pointed scissors. She took a large enamel bowl and positioned it carefully on the floor for the used swabs. Finally, she took the bottle of carbolic acid and sprayed a liberal amount over everything.

  Peeping out through the door into the ward, Maud could see the orderlies with their stretcher waiting by Mr Langer’s bed. Michael stood red-faced, with a fixed smile on his face, as Sister wagged her finger at him. Stephen stood quietly, as always, with his jacket hanging loose around his thin frame. She saw Michael roll his eyes as Sister Law marched away, and then the orderlies made a move to place the stretcher beneath the patient and carefully slide him into position.

  ‘We have no surgeon, or chloroform, yet,’ murmured Maud, glancing behind to ensure that her own preparations were still faultless. When she looked back to the ward, she could see the tall, shambling figure of Mr Jones striding through the door with a smoke in his hand and slim, dark-haired Dr McKendrick keeping pace at his side, carrying a wooden box.