Pack Up Your Troubles (12 page)

‘I haven’t got any hairgrips,’ Betty Wellman whimpered.

‘I haven’t got any hairgrips,
Sister
,’ Sister Abbott corrected. ‘Can anyone help this girl out?’

‘I can.’

Connie’s head spun round at the sound of her voice. The girl rose to her feet and walked to Betty’s desk, handing her two Kirby grips. As she turned back to her seat, their eyes met and Connie’s face flamed as she registered the same shocked surprise on the other girl’s face.

It was Eva.

Eight

‘Has anyone seen Pip?’

When Connie had walked to the bus stop that morning, they’d seen the dog following her but now he’d disappeared. Gwen picked up his dog bowl. The food was uneaten. Clifford shook his head and Ga looked blank. ‘Isn’t he down by the gate?’

It was getting dark but there was still no sign of him. Clifford and Mandy walked right round the nursery calling and calling while Gwen stood by the back door and banged a spoon on his dog bowl. Ga didn’t join in but every time someone came back indoors she would look up from the letter she was writing at her desk and say, ‘Any sign?’

The family ate their supper but there was little conversation at the table. Nobody wanted to voice their fears. When Gwen put Mandy to bed, Clifford went outside for one last time. The whole time she read her daughter’s bedtime story, they could hear Clifford calling the dog’s name.

Back downstairs, when Clifford came in, Gwen didn’t need to ask. His face said it all. ‘I do hope he hasn’t run off altogether,’ she sighed.

The new nurses had spent the rest of the afternoon putting together their timetables. Their day would begin at 8.30 a.m. and finish at 6 p.m. They would have an hour for lunch and two short tea breaks, one in the morning, the other in the afternoon. Most of their first six weeks would be spent in the classroom but after a month, they would be spending some time on the wards. ‘I’m sure that you all know you have to pay for your textbooks,’ Sister Tutor said. ‘If you haven’t already collected them, please go to the office by tomorrow morning. It’s twenty pounds. If anyone has a problem with that, we can make arrangements for it to be deducted from your wages.’

Connie had thought it was grossly unfair that she should have to pay for anything at all. There had been a vague possibility that she could have started her training straight after VE Day but by starting now it had given her enough time to save up. It had been a struggle because money was tight and Ga hadn’t given her much money for helping in the nursery. Never mind, she was here now.

‘You will be having lectures on various subjects,’ Sister Hayes continued. ‘Anatomy, nutrition, physiology and the care of patients.’

Connie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was beginning to sound rather daunting. What on earth was physiology? Was she up to this? Sister Hayes had been talking for some time and several of her fellow students looked bored. One girl had closed her eyes. ‘You will be learning about hygiene,’ said Sister. ‘Especially personal hygiene.’ She paused. ‘For instance, as soon as I walked into this room I immediately knew that someone has not changed her knickers today.’

The effect of her words was electrifying. Everyone sat bolt upright, their faces speared by embarrassment and horror. Sister Abbot had singled out the girl wearing a cardigan, and the one without her cap. Surely Sister Hayes wasn’t going to draw attention to somebody’s lack of clean underwear?

‘And what’s more,’ Sister continued relentlessly, ‘someone in this room has underarm odour.’

Even though she had no reason, Connie, along with the rest of the girls was thrown into a blind panic as Sister Hayes walked slowly up and down the silent aisles, all the while heading in her direction. Even though Connie was always careful to wash and never left the bathroom without putting talc under her arms, she could feel her face heating up.

‘There is nothing worse,’ Sister Hayes continued, ‘than a helpless patient having to put up with a nurse leaning over them if she has underarm odour.’

When she finally reached her desk and picked up the register, the class heaved a silent collective sigh of relief. ‘You are all dismissed,’ she said, ‘be back here at eight thirty sharp tomorrow morning and your training will begin.’

Careful to avoid Eva, Connie headed for the door. The only remaining thing for them to do tonight was unpack, which she’d already done, and to find the dining room for their meal. Connie didn’t think she could eat much. She already had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Not only did everything seem to be alien but there was the question of which girl was her roommate. Please God, she silently prayed, don’t let it be Eva. What was she doing here anyway? She said she was going to join the GPO or the police, hadn’t she? So why had she enrolled on this class?

They accidentally bumped into each other near the door. Connie heard the beginning of Eva’s mumbled apology as it choked in her throat but she didn’t look at her.

‘Flippin’ ’eck,’ said Betty catching up with Connie in the corridor. ‘That woman was a bit near the knuckle with her knickers and underarm stuff, wasn’t she? My mum got the tin bath out for me before I came but I was terrified that she was going to point the finger at me.’

‘She does it to get your attention,’ said another girl. ‘My sister did this training course a couple of years ago and she says she does it with every new group.’

Connie grinned. ‘It certainly got our attention.’

Betty was going through her pockets. ‘Oh, blimey,’ she groaned. ‘I’ve left my keys in my room. I’ve locked myself out. Anybody here in Room 13?’

‘I found him, Mummy.’

Mandy had been tucked up in bed when she remembered that her favourite storybook was in Connie’s room. She’d left it there last night when her sister read to her. When she opened the door, she’d found Pip lying on one of Connie’s cardigans which had fallen to the floor. He looked the picture of misery.

With a little gentle persuasion, the family got him downstairs and in his basket, but only when they took the cardigan too. He wasn’t interested in his food, although he did drink a little water before lying back down.

‘Looks like he’s going to pine for her like he did the last time,’ said Gwen anxiously.

‘He’ll get used to it,’ said Ga. ‘She’ll be back every week for her day off, won’t she?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Gwen.

‘What do you mean, perhaps?’ Ga challenged.

‘What she means is that the girl needs a life of her own, Ga,’ said Clifford.

Olive scowled.

Mandy knelt by the dog’s basket. ‘Don’t worry, Pip,’ she said gently. ‘Connie’s coming back.’ She stroked the dog’s head. ‘You don’t have to be lonely. I’ll be your special friend, if you like.’

Connie sat in the nurses’ school room day after day, taking notes and trying to remember how to spell difficult names like Tincture of Guaiacum (used to test for blood in the urine), gonococcus (a bacteria which causes gonorrhoea) and encephalitis (inflammation of the brain). After lectures they got to spend an hour or two on the wards, usually doing the food trolley or the bedpan round. Some of her fellow students were a little disappointed to be doing such menial tasks but the ward sister had pre-empted any grumbling behind her back by stressing how important it was to make the patients feel warm, comfortable and safe when they were in difficult circumstances.

‘All nursing care is of equal importance,’ she told them.

So Connie learned to rub the stainless steel bedpan with a cloth before putting it underneath the patient because it could be very cold on the skin. She enjoyed helping the helpless to eat and when she was asked to do the temperature round, writing the results on the chart at the foot of the patient’s bed, it made her feel like a real nurse.

She went home for her day off and pottered around in the nurseries. Pip followed her everywhere but after a while she noticed his growing attachment to her little sister. Connie had been worried when her mother told her the dog was pining, but perhaps he was adjusting to another change in his life. She certainly hoped so. Connie was having to make some big changes herself. There was little chance of going to dances with Jane Jackson. Connie could only have two late passes a month, and half the time, she was down to work part of Saturday evenings on the wards. They met for the pictures a couple of times which had to be a poor substitute for dancing with a real live man.

The tension at the house was sometimes palpable. Clifford and Ga couldn’t see eye to eye about where the future of the nurseries lay and most of the friction between them centred around the use of the top field. Ga wanted to grow potatoes on a much larger scale but Clifford wanted to diversify.

‘We haven’t got the wherewithal,’ Ga insisted. ‘Not if we have to pay that dozy girl in the shop. I don’t know why I bother to keep her on. She’s always got a face like a wet week these days.’

‘You know yourself the ground is poor,’ he said. ‘Potatoes don’t bring in a lot so if we sold the land for building …’

‘Over my dead body!’

‘We could build something ourselves,’ Clifford persisted. ‘A factory or a shop. That would make a lot more sense than breaking our backs over a few stupid spuds.’

‘So now you’re calling me stupid?’ Ga retorted.

‘Did I say that?’ Clifford challenged. The rows became more unreasonable as time went on and there seemed to be no middle ground.

Connie began her nursing proper on the men’s ward. She was a little nervous when she reported for duty and the first day seemed extremely long, but she got through it without any mishap. She was working with another student nurse, thankfully not Eva.

Every day began with prayers on the ward. Sister would read the collect for the day from the Book of Common Prayer and they would all recite the Lord’s Prayer together. Connie knew that some of the girls resented this but she found it a pleasant experience and it brought with it a sense of calm.

Her calm on her second day on the ward was soon shattered when she heard the night sister’s report.

‘The doctor has asked for a urine sample from Mr Dunster.’

Connie’s heart sank. She wanted to say, whatever you do, don’t ask me, but she knew a good nurse would never refuse to withhold treatment from her patient, no matter how obnoxious they were. She’d had a run-in with Mr Dunster when she was on the ward one day after lectures and he was nothing more than a lecherous old beast. She’d had to take a urine sample then and when she’d taken the bottle to his bed, he had pretended he wasn’t feeling up to doing it himself. She’d had a suspicion that he was up to no good because as she drew the curtains around the bed, she spotted Mr Elliot and Mr Thomson nudging each other as they sat at the patients’ table.

In the privacy of his bedside, Mr Dunster left Connie to undo his pyjama cord and he closed his eyes as she guided his flabby member into the neck of the bottle. As soon as she touched it, she felt it stiffen. Her hand was trembling and she was starting to feel hot and embarrassed. Don’t think, she told herself. Don’t think about it. Then she felt his hand creeping around her buttock. She’d hit him away angrily, her face flaming and glared at him, tight-lipped, until he passed water. When it was done, he smiled and sighed, ‘Thank you, nurse. You’ve got a lovely touch.’

Connie had been furious of course, but she didn’t say anything. She was convinced that if she’d made a fuss, especially on her first time on the ward, Sister would have made her life a misery, and the other men on the ward would have had a good laugh at her expense. But she simply couldn’t face the dirty basket again.

As the day sister thanked the night sister for her report and the night staff left, Connie prayed a silent prayer. ‘Oh God, please don’t let Sister ask me to deal with Mr Dunster …’ But before her prayer was even finished, she heard Sister Brown saying, ‘After breakfast, Nurse Jefferies can do the drugs trolley with Staff Nurse Harris and Nurse Dixon, can you get the sample from Mr Dunster?’

Connie’s heart plummeted. Alone in the sluice room she took a bottle from the shelf and put it in the autoclave. While she waited for it to sterilise, her gaze fell upon a treatment trolley some nurse had abandoned without clearing it up and an idea slowly formed in Connie’s mind.

Sailing down the ward towards Mr Dunster’s bed, Connie prayed her second prayer that morning. ‘Oh God, please don’t let Sister see me …’

‘Good morning, Mr Dunster,’ she said loudly and cheerfully as she reached his bedside. ‘I’m afraid I have to ask you for another sample.’

‘That’s quite all right, nurse,’ he grinned.

As she pulled the curtains around his bed, Connie was aware of the other patients watching and heard one of them whisper, ‘Lucky dog.’

‘I’m glad it was you who came to help me, nurse,’ said Mr Dunster wanly. ‘I just don’t feel up to it today and you’ve got such lovely long fingers.’ He closed his eyes and leaned against the backrest with a sigh.

‘That’s what I’m here for,’ said Connie, tying on a face mask.

Someone on the other side of the curtain sniggered. Connie pulled on a pair of thick rubber gloves making sure that they snapped loudly against her wrists. Mr Dunster’s eyes flew open.

‘I’m afraid I owe you an apology,’ she said crisply. ‘I’m new here and the last time we did this, I didn’t know the correct procedure. I’m sorry about that.’ She whipped off the green cloth from the top of the tray to reveal a urine bottle and a large pair of flat bladed forceps. Mr Dunster’s eyes grew large.

‘Now I want you to relax, Mr Dunster,’ said Connie brightly. She heard another snigger from the other side of the curtain. ‘This won’t hurt … much.’

The silence seemed to grow as she guided Mr Dunster’s member towards the bottle, careful to keep a very firm grip to avoid any accidental spill. Moments later after sailing back down the ward with the sample, her head held high, she bumped into Sister by the door of the sluice room. Her heart went into her mouth. Oh Lord, now she was in trouble …

‘Well done, nurse,’ said Sister Brown and it was then that Connie noticed the twinkle in her eye. ‘You’re learning. He won’t be doing that again, and while you’re doing your own sterile tray, would you clear up this trolley? I think the night staff must have forgotten it.’