‘Matron can not only run the best hospital in the country, she can apparently turn her hand to interior design too,’ the cook had said.
Mrs Duffy rebutted their observations which always landed in the Lovely Lane kitchen with her own well-rehearsed response. ‘I can’t retire, there are too many people who need me. Who will look after those nurses if I retire?’ Now she said to Biddy, ‘Who will look after little Louis when you can’t have him in Sister Emily’s sitting room? He’s a part of all our lives now, that poor little lad, and they need us. If it wasn’t for us, she wouldn’t be able to work.’
She pointedly turned her back to them both and leant out of the bus stop shelter, her brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, green paisley headscarf tied tight under her chin, brown wool coat buttoned fully to the throat, looking down the road to see if the bus was about to arrive. Her manner announced that the conversation was closed, better than words could have done, but Elsie had other ideas.
‘I don’t know why you keep your age such a secret. You must be nearing seventy, surely? I don’t care who knows my age.’
Mrs Duffy flushed bright red. ‘How dare you! I am nowhere near seventy. My hair went white as soon as I lost our Bill in the war, so I just look older than I am.’
Elsie was about to respond, ‘Aye, but which war was that?’ for they all knew Mrs Duffy had been a childless widow who had lost her husband in the first war and had been alone ever since and Mrs Duffy, who was aware of her own deceit, felt guilty and that just made the situation worse.
‘My age is my business,’ she said, ‘and besides, whatever age I am, I’m a long time off retiring. There’s no law against it. You can tell all those vultures over in the hospital what I said, too. My nurses wouldn’t want anyone else looking after them. I know their families, I do. Don’t you remember how I had to go all the way to Ireland to accompany Nurse Brogan back a few weeks ago? Do you think Matron would send me to do such an important job if she thought I was past it? You can tell them all that, I’m there for a long time yet. Matron, as you know, is very fussy.’
‘Oh, I’ll tell them,’ said Elsie. ‘They won’t believe it, but I’ll tell them anyway.’ And then, as if as a reminder, she whispered so that Ida couldn’t hear her, ‘She’s a good girl, Gracie. She will be a good help to you. Be nice to her.’
Mrs Duffy felt anger bubbling up inside. The unannounced arrival of Gracie to the nurses’ home had been yet another insult to her pride. To Mrs Duffy’s relief, the bus arrived and, for the first time ever, she walked past the row Elsie, Biddy and she usually occupied and no other regular passengers dared to sit on, down to the back of the bus, and sat alone.
*
Later on this grey and cold December morning, Mrs Duffy stood squinting through her glasses, studying the rota on the kitchen wall to see which nurses were on earlies and who she would be expecting in from nights. Not so long ago, she only needed to glance at the off-duty rota once a week on a Friday morning and she would remember it until the next one arrived through the door from Sister Horton’s office. Of late, she had need to check the rota every morning.
A voice from the door to the hallway made her jump.
‘I’ve lit the fire in the hall and in the breakfast room, Mrs Duffy,’ said Gracie, ‘and I’ve put the water on to boil and lit the grill. Shall I start the floors before the daily maids come in?’ Two women came in at ten for two hours to wash and polish the wooden floors that ran through the entire large house and they helped with the nurses’ rooms. Gracie, with dirty hands hanging down by her side, daren’t move until she had been given permission to do so.
Gracie’s mere presence was a reminder that Matron had thought she needed help. How could she prove she didn’t, with Gracie marching about the place with a dirty duster hanging from her waistband? Mrs Duffy turned from the rota and looked down at Gracie’s hands with disgust.
‘Well, I can see you have lit the fire! For goodness’ sake, wash your hands in the scullery. You can’t start making the beds like that.’
‘I will, Mrs Duffy, but Sister Horton said I was to help you with the breakfast too.’
Mrs Duffy removed her glasses and took a step closer to Gracie, as if to study her more closely. ‘Sister Horton? When did she tell you that?’ Her voice had risen an octave and Gracie’s dirty hands began to tremble.
‘Er, when she called in yesterday afternoon to collect little Louis. You were giving the men their tea out the back. She said would I make sure that I helped you with everything, not just the rooms. She said I was to help with the meals too, when I’m not up cleaning outpatients.’
Mrs Duffy’s jaw dropped open. ‘Well, I never! It’s unusual that she didn’t say that to me and there was no mention.’ She pushed her glasses further up her nose. ‘Honestly, no one talks to me any—’ She didn’t have the time to finish her sentence as the front door opened and Dessie walked in carrying a wooden crate full of milk bottles.
Emily had been sorry not to stay longer when she had been collecting Louis the previous afternoon, but she had taken the time to talk to Gracie. ‘How is it going?’ she’d asked. Any better since Monday?’
‘No,’ said Gracie. ‘She still hates me. She doesn’t want me here.’
‘Oh, Gracie, I’ll be here tomorrow and I will talk to her, I promise you. She is grumpy with everyone at the moment. I know what the problem is: she thinks we are taking over, making decisions without consulting her and she’s right. We are. Are you back up in the clinic tomorrow?’
Gracie had shaken her head. ‘No, I’ve got to stay here and help. They are making cakes in the afternoon with Mrs Tanner to sell in outpatients. I’ve been told I’m to stay here to help. I’m just glad Mrs Tanner is coming. She’s lovely.’
Emily had squeezed her arm. ‘Everyone loves Mavis, and everyone loves Mrs Duffy too. Just keep going until tomorrow. I’m sorry, I would stay now, but I have to dash with this little one. Please tell her I’m sorry and I was sorry to leave him in outpatients with you and Nurse Tanner too. We all got on the wrong side of Sister Antrobus for that. It’s just a good job Matron is on my side, otherwise I would have been out on my ear, long ago.’
Gracie, smiling, had helped her down the steps with the pram and as Emily almost broke into a run with the wheels bouncing, it occurred to Gracie that she had never seen Emily do anything other than run and rush; she appeared to be always running against the clock.
Now Dessie’s voice boomed down the hallway. ‘I just know the urn is going to be ready in about,’ he turned and took the two steps down into the kitchen and placed the milk crate onto the scrubbed pine table and then looked at his watch, ‘five minutes, just as soon as I have checked on those workmen.’ He took his cap off and held it in his hands as Gracie, seizing the opportunity, sidled away into the scullery to wash her own hands.
‘Dessie, are you checking up on me?’ Mrs Duffy eyed him suspiciously. ‘Only, Emily was here yesterday afternoon to collect Louis but I didn’t see her, I thought she must have been in a rush, and yet she seemed to have found time to talk to Gracie. Is she avoiding me?’ She felt hurt; she loved little Louis and felt cheated that Emily had not spoken to her first, especially as she spent a large part of her week looking after him. Her sitting room now contained a second-hand cot where Louis often took his afternoon nap. Dessie looked nonplussed.
‘Well, she never told me anything,’ he lied, ‘but I do know they are coming today to see you, after she leaves the school, because she told me so when she was putting him in the pram.’
Mrs Duffy smiled, her anger forgotten. ‘He’s grown so fast. He will be too big for that pram soon.’
‘You are kidding me?’ said Dessie, his eyes wide. ‘That Silver Cross is so big and cost that much, I’ve told Emily I’ll be having a kip in there me’self soon. Right, I’m off to see those lazy-arsed workmen and make sure they get going. Those blokes wouldn’t have survived on the docks and that’s a fact. I don’t know what regiment they were in, but the first thi
ng they do in the morning is make a brew. They mustn’t have a teapot at home, none of them. I’ll tell you what, are you putting a bit of bacon on for those nurses?’ Dessie rubbed his hands together and grinned, his eyes wide and expectant, entirely unaware of the irony in his words.
Mrs Duffy blushed. ‘Get on with you,’ she said. ‘Do your work and I’ll put a few extra rashers under the grill.’ Her humour was restored, she was needed, wanted, appreciated – and that was all she asked for in life, in order to make her happy. Dessie and Emily, the nurses she looked after – they were her family. How could she retire? How could she walk away from everything that made her feel worthy and loved? She took Sunday off every week and couldn’t get back quick enough on a Monday morning. Her job was her world, it was who she was.
Gracie appeared in the kitchen, hands scrubbed clean. The floorboards above began to creak and muted alarms rang and buzzed down through the wooden floors.
‘Come on, Gracie, those nurses will be down here in fifteen minutes looking for their tea and breakfast. If you have to be here, make yourself useful. According to the off-duty rota, Nurse Brogan, Nurse Tanner and Nurse Beth are all off today, which is unusual. They must be out shopping or something. You watch, I’ll end up having to take their tea up to them, that lot, honestly.’
Gracie lifted the large pot down from the shelf above the range. She had picked up the routine without any effort. ‘They said they were yesterday,’ she said, as she rinsed the oversized brown earthenware teapot out under the tap. ‘Don’t you remember? Nurse Tanner said they were getting the train to Bolton to go and see one of the nurses who got married and they asked, could they have their bacon sandwiches wrapped up in greaseproof paper to eat on the train. They said they would be down by eight.’
Mrs Duffy looked up at the kitchen clock – it was five to eight – and then at Gracie as though she had spoken in French just as they heard three pairs of shoes thundering down the stairs.
‘Morning, Mrs Duffy,’ said Pammy Tanner as she landed a kiss on her cheek. ‘We’re going to leg it to the station. Just in time for a quick cuppa first. The bathroom is full and the earlies will be down soon.’
Pammy looked to the table, expecting to see the sandwiches wrapped up and ready. Beth, who was often the first up and had covertly been helping Mrs Duffy in the mornings before she began her shift, took in straight away that Mrs Duffy had forgotten their sandwiches, winked at Pammy and Dana and went straight to the dresser to lift down the cups and saucers, catching sight of herself in the mirror on the way and tucking her thick red, shoulder-length hair behind her ears.
‘I’ve got it, Gracie,’ she said as the young girl held the tap on the urn and let the boiling water run into the pot as she spooned in six heaped spoons of loose tea from the metal canister next to the urn. Dana took hold of Mrs Duffy’s hand and squeezed it before she turned and, lifting up the crate, carried it to the fridge and placed it on the floor. ‘I’ve got the milk,’ she said. ‘Pass me the jug, Beth.’
Beth took the large blue and white striped jug down from the press and pushed it across the table. Dana lifted the large enamel plate out of the fridge and slid that down after it to Pammy who took the grill pan out from under the flames and had started taking the rashers off.
‘How many for breakfast this morning?’ she asked as she glanced towards the off-duty rota on the wall, too far away to see, and squinted her eyes. Breakfast was important. It was all the slips of probationer nurses had between them and the sixteen-stone men they had to bed bath as soon as they got onto the wards.
Gracie stirred the tea, banged the enamel lid into place, plonked the pot on the range and almost pushed Pammy out of the way. ‘Go on, get yourself off. You’ll be missing your train,’ she said. ‘I’ve got it covered here. I’ve been watching. I know what to do,’ she whispered under her breath so that only Pammy could hear her.
‘God bless your cotton socks, Gracie,’ said Pammy as she allowed Gracie to take over. Dana had emptied the crate and was filling the jug with two pints of milk at once as Mrs Duffy looked on, almost as though in shock. ‘Right, that’s us done then, eh, Mrs Duffy.’ She smiled at Gracie as she popped the milk bottles into the sink and whispered, ‘Take no notice of her; give it two more weeks and she will love you.’ Mrs Duffy was counting the milk bottles in the fridge. ‘See you tonight when we get back. We’ll be able to tell you all about how Victoria is doing, Mrs Duffy.’
Each girl planted a kiss on her cheek, ensuring there was no conversation about the fact that the kitchen was running late. As they reached the door, she shouted after them, ‘Are you going to see Nurse Victoria?’
Pammy turned back at the door. They had spent the whole of breakfast the previous morning talking about how much they were looking forward to visiting Victoria. ‘We are. Have you a message for her?’ Pammy asked kindly.
‘Wait, just a minute would you?’ said Mrs Duffy as she walked to her bag at the back of the kitchen and removed a brown paper bag. ‘I remember now,’ she said as she handed it over. ‘I’m just a bit distracted today, that’s all. It’s those workmen, the noise and all the commotion. It’s enough to drive anyone mad.’
‘Can I have a peep?’ asked Pammy, who was already peeling back the corner of the bag.
‘Of course you can. I crocheted a pram blanket for the baby. It’s a lovely lace pattern I’ve done a few times over the years, for various neighbours and it’s always well-received.’
Pammy pulled out the white blanket, edged in lemon and gasped. ‘Oh, Mrs Duffy, it’s lovely.’ The gossamer-thin blanket slipped through her fingers, the intricate lace-worked single ply wool blanket a result of deep concentration and hard work that was plain to see.
‘Do you think they will like it?’ Mrs Duffy asked nervously and then beamed at the expression on Pammy’s face.
‘Not half, she will love it, she will. It’s so gorgeous. I bet she takes that to the hospital, to bring the baby home in.’ Pammy felt her heart constrict at the look of sheer pleasure on Mrs Duffy’s face. Pammy planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘She will be mad for it, I know she will and I’ll tell you this, no one can match that in the way of a gift. You’ve always been Vic’s favourite and you still will be,’ she said as she folded the bag and slipped it into her own, glancing out of the door as Dana called from the gate in her soft, west coast Irish accent, ‘Pammy, come on! We’ll miss the train.’
‘I’m coming. Don’t forget, Mrs Duffy, Mam’s coming at two to use the kitchen to bake the cakes for the WVS. Me da’s gutted. He loved the leftovers at home, but our kitchen’s too small now, she needs to make that many.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ said Mrs Duffy. ‘I’ll make sure she takes some back for your da and the boys.’
Pammy turned and looked back as she ran to catch up with the others; Mrs Duffy was smiling and waving, just like any other normal morning, only just lately, every now and then, the occasional morning wasn’t as normal as most…
‘What took you so long?’ asked Beth and Pammy lifted her bag up from her side. ‘Mrs Duffy has given me a pressie for the baby and, honest to God, it’s gorgeous. A lovely pram blanket. It was so warm on my hands and as light as a feather. There’s nothing much wrong with her if she can do that. I don’t know what we’re all worrying about. I’m going to tell my Anthony, we need to get a move on, he’d better pop the question soon. This is making me broody.’
‘Your Anthony never gets the time to think about anything other than saving lives since he took up the Senior House Officer’s post on the receiving ward,’ said Beth. ‘Seems to me if you are going to marry a doctor, you won’t be seeing much of him.’
Pammy looked thoughtful. ‘Me mam says that. She said that Mrs Gaskell was at Matron’s party and that hardly anyone, apart from Matron, even knew what she looked like. A chest doctor’s widow, Madge said she was. Lost her husband long before her time, to Matron and the wards.’
They strode on past the park gates as Dana said, ‘Did
you see that woman just inside the gates as we walked past? She was there yesterday too – no! Don’t turn around!’ Dana sounded exasperated as both Pammy and Beth turned their heads to look.
‘There’s no one there now,’ said Beth. ‘Did she have a dog with her?’
‘I didn’t notice,’ said Dana. ‘But there are a few new dogs in and out of the gates since I got back from Ireland. I used to know them all from my window. Amazing how much can change in such a short time.’ Dana’s window overlooked the park while Beth and Pammy faced the gates. ‘She did have something in her hands, though, it could have been a lead, she just looked a bit odd.’
‘Quick, over the bridge, I can see the train,’ said Pammy as she broke into a run, all conversation about Mrs Duffy, women in the park, dogs and leads over.
*
The meeting with the works foreman, Bertie Botherthwaite, had been more difficult than Dessie had anticipated. ‘Make the pathway from the main house three flags wide in that direction,’ he’d said flicking the plan in his hands and turning it upside down. ‘It faces south and the nurses on their off duty can sit out on some chairs on a nice day. And dig up this section here,’ he paced out a section of land, about twelve feet long, ‘and then get one of your men to replant Mrs Duffy’s precious roses. If any of them don’t grow back we all know what to buy her for Christmas. That was the wife’s idea; she used to live here when she was a probationer nurse.’
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