Hannah took a deep breath of sharp sea air and strawberries as they passed the hokey-pokey men from Sicily who were selling their penny licks. She was sorely tempted, but – she glanced at the boys who were struggling, wide-eyed, along Marine Terrace with her – she wasn’t here for a holiday, more was the pity.
Even though it was early in the season, there was an air of gaiety and abandon among the wandering crowds: children frolicking like lambkins, running along the pavements without looking where they were going; pretty misses and foppish striplings walking brazenly arm in arm; people stopping to buy from the brightly coloured stalls and barrows along the front.
They made slow progress.
‘Charlie, where are your shoelaces?’ Hannah asked.
‘Which Charlie are you talkin’ to?’ Charlie said.
‘The one without his laces,’ she responded.
‘I ain’t got any and I’m glad ’cause I was always trippin’ up.’
‘Those shoes will hinder you – they must be four sizes too big.’
‘Ma says I’ll grow into ’em.’
‘Mine are too small,’ Peter commented, reaching down to press on the gaping toe of his boot. ‘This is all Mr Glanvill ’ad.’
Having reached the Hall by the Sea, they took the Canterbury road which turned away from the main sands near the railway station, before finding the infirmary on their right. It was an imposing building nine bays wide and two storeys high, its design reminding Hannah of a drawing of a Greek temple she had once seen in a book in her father’s study.
‘I don’t like it,’ Peter announced, seeming overawed as he gazed up at the massive stone columns on either side of the main entrance. ‘I’m not goin’ in there. Mr Glanvill says it’s the gateway of death.’
‘I shouldn’t listen to him – what does he know? Take Charlie’s hand if it makes you feel safer.’
‘No way. I’m not ’olding on to ‘is ’and,’ Charlie argued. ‘We aren’t babies.’
‘Then you must behave like young gentlemen and walk in side by side, quietly, behind me. Do you think you can do that?’ she went on more gently, not wanting to make Peter cry.
‘Yes, Nurse,’ Charlie said.
‘Yes …’ Peter echoed weakly.
Inside the reception hall, the porter, an elderly gentleman with spectacles, stained teeth and a twinkle in his eye, introduced himself.
‘My name is Mr Mordikai. You must be Nurse Bentley with the boys from St Pancras. We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to the house.’
‘Thank you.’ Hannah glanced from the oil paintings on the walls to the rug on the floor, a Turkish carpet that had seen better days, and suppressed the thought that she’d have burned it if she’d been matron. ‘I’d be very grateful if you could direct me to the ward, so the boys may be admitted – they’re tired after a rather trying journey.’
‘Ah, leave them with me. I’ll take them along to meet Sister Trim.’
Peter slipped his hand into Hannah’s, whispering, ‘Don’t leave me.’
‘There’s nothing to be frightened of,’ she began, before recollecting how she’d felt as a probationer walking on to a ward for the first time: the stares, the stink of sickness, the uncertainty. ‘I’ll stay with you until you’re admitted.’
‘Sister won’t like that,’ Mr Mordikai said.
‘I’ll speak to her. I’m sure she’ll have no objection.’
The porter raised one thin eyebrow – a sign of doubt, perhaps – but Hannah was undeterred. Having made sure she had the letters, including the one from Ruby, she watched him put her bag and basket behind his desk, then followed him, a hefty figure dressed in a bowler hat, waistcoat and striped shirt, into a wide corridor. There were doors leading off from one side, into examination rooms, bathing rooms and sluices, with the wards coming off the other.
‘You will notice that the house has undergone much building work. This is the older part of the infirmary.’ The porter stopped beneath a sign above an open door. It read, The Lettsom Ward 1858, in gold lettering.
‘I’d be much obliged if you’d wait here while I find Sister,’ he said, before proceeding to look for her.
Hannah took in her surroundings. The tall windows were wide open, and the beds – iron cots like those at the Hospital for Sick Children – were occupied by boys of various ages, some sleeping, some looking at picture books, some playing quietly with toy boats and spinning tops. There was a nurse, wearing a dark blue dress with her white apron, cuffs, collar and cap, pushing a trolley of dressings and medicines along the ward, and a lady on a chair reading to two boys who were sitting cross-legged at her feet.
There were more doors opening on to a balcony which overlooked the sea, where a fishing skiff with seagulls circling above it was tacking towards the harbour.
‘This ain’t nothin’ like London,’ Charlie breathed.
‘It’s a wonderful view, isn’t it?’ Hannah said. ‘I think we’ll be very happy here in Margate.’
‘This is most irregular.’ A woman about ten years older than Hannah, with an angular nose, pale lips and a widow’s peak of dark hair emerging from under her cap, came marching up with the porter. ‘There’s no need for you to remain on my ward, Miss Bentley.’ She emphasised the word ‘Miss’, and Hannah, realising that it was a deliberate slight, didn’t try to correct her. ‘Mr Mordikai will fetch the duty physician to admit the boys.’
‘I’ll wait with them, if you don’t mind,’ Hannah said firmly, as Peter clung to her hand and Charlie hid behind her.
‘I do mind. Visiting hours are from two until four on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and the same on Sundays for the sake of the fathers who are at work during the week.’ Sister Trim looked past her. ‘Ma’am?’
‘I’d reconsider if I were you.’ Hannah turned to face the speaker, an older lady dressed in royal blue and white, her grey hair up in a bun. ‘One can always use an extra pair of hands when one is short-staffed. I’m Mrs Knowles, matron of this house.’ She smiled. ‘Welcome to Margate.’
Hannah thanked her, aware of Sister Trim’s sullen glower.
‘As soon as the boys have been admitted, come along to my office.’ Mrs Knowles turned from Hannah to Sister Trim. ‘Nurse Bentley will be joining you on the Lettsom after she’s completed her orientation.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ the sister said in clipped tones, before directing Hannah and her charges to sit on a bench at the far end of the ward to await the doctor. Hannah overheard her muttering to the porter, ‘I wish Mrs Knowles would stop meddling, taking on nurses who aren’t trained in our ways. It’s a recipe for disaster.’
‘I believe that it’s unwise, but it isn’t my place to take it up with her,’ Mr Mordikai agreed. ‘Let me go and find the duty physician.’
After an hour of being seated, Charlie began to fidget and Peter to flag. Hannah was just beginning to wonder if she dared ask Sister Trim if they’d been forgotten, when a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman wearing a plaid waistcoat, white shirt and cravat, with dark, high-waisted trousers, strolled into the ward.
He greeted every patient by name as he passed by.
‘How are you today, Johnnie?’ he asked, pausing beside one of the boys whose left leg was immobilised in a cast.
‘A little better, thank you, but my plaster – it does itch so,’ he replied.
‘I’ll bring you a knitting needle next time I’m on the ward – don’t tell Sister, though.’
‘Oh, I won’t,’ the boy grinned.
‘What was that, Doctor Clifton?’ Sister Trim’s voice carried along the ward.
‘I’m afraid I cannot say,’ the doctor said with humour. ‘I have taken the Hippocratic Oath – whatever, in connection with my professional service, or not in connection with it, I see or hear, in the life of men, which ought not to be spoken of abroad, I will not divulge, as reckoning that all such should be kept secret.’
He continued along the ward, like a breath of fresh air, Hannah thought, comparing him with the rather stuffy doctor who’d carried out the rounds at the Hospital for Sick Children in London. He had been an elderly physician who’d failed to move with the times: his tie always looked as if he’d dipped it in a bowl of soup, and his cuffs were often spattered with blood. His examinations were perfunctory, and he did little to put their young patients at ease. Doctor Clifton was quite another kettle of fish.
Well-spoken and youthful, he couldn’t have been more than twenty-eight years old. His light brown hair was run through with strands of gold as if he’d been out in the sun, and he wore it short, to just above his collar, with a side parting and swept back. His sideburns were neatly trimmed.
‘Good afternoon,’ he said, joining Hannah and her charges.
‘You must stand up when addressed by your elders and betters.’ Hannah gave Charlie a nudge.
‘You may remain seated,’ the doctor said kindly.
‘This is Miss Bentley with the two boys for admission,’ Sister Trim said, scurrying up alongside him. ‘Nurse Finch will be with you shortly.’
‘Thank you, Sister,’ the doctor said. ‘Please accept my apologies for keeping you, Miss Bentley. The infirmary is always busy – we have over two hundred patients, three-quarters of them children – but the extra visitors coming to Margate for the summer put even more pressure on our resources. I have patients queuing up for beds.’
The boys were staring at him warily, their eyes on stalks, like wavering snails ready to duck back inside their shells.
‘I have the paperwork for Master Swift and Master Herring.’ Hannah handed over the letters from her pocket.
He read them, then looked up. ‘These are all in order. Where is Nurse Finch to take the notes?’
‘I can do it,’ Hannah said, noting that his eyes were blue with a hint of green, like the sea, one slightly darker than the other.
‘I don’t think so.’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘There are certain medical terms—’
‘She’s a nurse,’ said Charlie.
‘Hush,’ she said softly. ‘One mustn’t speak unless spoken to.’
‘It appears that I must apologise for a second time. Sister Trim didn’t say so and Mrs Knowles hasn’t seen fit to mention it.’
It seemed that the doctors and nurses were locked in conflict at the infirmary, just like they were at the Hospital for Sick Children.
‘I trained as a lady probationer in London and I’ve been offered a position here.’ It had crossed Hannah’s mind that she would be in a pickle if Mrs Knowles took against her for any reason.
‘Forgive me for the misunderstanding.’
‘Of course.’ She noticed the dimples in his cheeks, which gave him an air of boyish charm. ‘You weren’t to know.’
‘Ah, here is Nurse Finch,’ Doctor Clifton said as the other nurse she had seen on the ward turned up with a trolley, neatly organised with pens, ink and paper, boards and board-clips, flannels and soap, and two pairs of pyjamas. ‘Nurse Finch, this is Nurse Bentley – she will be assisting me.’
‘Yes, Doctor.’ Hannah noticed the warmth in the nurse’s striking grey eyes when she gave Hannah a brief smile. She was a handsome young woman, tall and elegant, with brown hair and a clear complexion. ‘Matron’s given me orders to take you under my wing later.’
‘Nurse Finch, there’s no time for gossip,’ Sister Trim called. ‘Benjamin has been sick, and his sheets need changing. Mattie’s wound is weeping – it needs a dressing to keep off the flies.’
Nurse Finch left the trolley and returned to her work. Hannah wondered how long she’d been working at the infirmary – she was a few years older than her, in her late twenties perhaps.
Hannah pushed the trolley along behind the boys, who followed Doctor Clifton to one of the examination rooms across the corridor, like lambs to the slaughter. The doctor held the door open for them, catching Hannah’s eye.
‘It will soon be dinnertime. The food is excellent – I can thoroughly recommend it,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Now, which of you two young gentlemen is going to be first?’
‘Not me,’ Charlie said quickly.
‘Peter, then.’ Hannah pushed him gently forward. He didn’t resist, seemingly reassured by the doctor’s manner as he removed the filthy bandages from his neck and poked and prodded the scrofulous lumps. He measured his temperature and listened to his chest with his stethoscope, while Hannah took down his observations.
‘Are you keeping up?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Doctor,’ she said, although her hand was aching and the pen was scratchy, leaving blots of ink across the page. She didn’t like to delay him – his time was precious.
He moved on to Charlie and, at the end of his examination, summed up his plans for them.
‘Gentlemen, you’ll receive a nutritious diet as prescribed, daily saltwater baths and as many hours as possible in the open air. Mr Anthony, the house surgeon, will discuss the options for surgery in the morning. Nurse Finch will take over now – one of the conditions for admittance is a thorough scrub to remove any unwanted visitors. I’ll see you on our rounds tomorrow morning.
‘Thank you, Nurse Bentley,’ he added with a smile, before he left the room.
‘I won’t ’ave a bath of any sort,’ Charlie said.
‘Doctor knows best,’ Hannah said, ushering them back towards the ward. In her experience, they thought they did anyway.
‘I told you, I can’t ’ave a bath.’ Charlie brushed back tears.
‘Cry baby,’ muttered Peter.
‘Leave him alone,’ Hannah scolded as she steered them back towards Nurse Finch who was putting bandages away in a box. ‘It’ll be your turn soon enough.’
Peter fell silent. She feared that he was about to face something far worse than a bath, but it was better he didn’t know about it until the last minute.
‘Trimmie’s asked me to take them now,’ Nurse Finch said. ‘I mean – Sister … Sister Trim.’
‘What’s for tea?’ Charlie asked her. ‘The doctor said it was nearly dinnertime.’
‘It’s mutton and potatoes today. Come along. Let’s get you settled in.’
Charlie and Peter seemed to have no qualms about going off with Nurse Finch while Hannah made her way to Matron’s office.
Mrs Knowles called for tea and Florentines. ‘I won’t keep you long,’ she said. ‘I’m delighted that you’ve agreed to take up the position here. There will of course be a month’s probation, but it’s only a formality. I’ll have a contract prepared for you to sign in the next few days. You’ll spend a week in various departments – outpatients, the splint room, theatre and the wards before you take up your position on the Lettsom. You’ll find that Judith Trim is an excellent sister, strict but fair.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
‘I’ve asked Nurse Finch to look after you. She’ll meet you in the dining hall at six. I’ve also arranged for one of the maids to see what you require in the way of dresses and aprons, and tell you about the arrangements for laundering. You may wait in the reception hall until Nurse Finch is ready.’
Hannah didn’t like having to wait – she would much rather have started work straight away – but she filled in the hour meeting with the maid, then sat and read her letter from her sister.
Dear Hannah,
I have had to resort to subterfuge to send this letter because Pa has decided to censor all my correspondence. Although it is an inconvenience to her, dear Miss Fellows at number three has agreed to post and receive letters on my behalf until the storm dies down. I expect you are asking yourself why, and the only way I can respond is to say that there was a misunderstanding. I admit that I did play a part in it, but Pa has blown it out of all proportion.
I hope you are well and happy in London. Do send me your news.
Yours affectionately,
Ruby
Hannah frowned as she put the letter away. What had Ruby done to raise their father’s ire? She felt a little frustrated that she hadn’t gone into more detail, but she guessed that she couldn’t reveal too much in case Pa happened to intercept her post. Who knew what he would do if he found out that Ruby had gone against him?
She was still worrying about her sister when she and Nurse Finch took their places in the dining hall later.
‘Ignore Trimmie,’ Nurse Finch said. ‘Matron told her that you were coming here highly recommended, and she’s afraid that you’ll be favoured over her. My name’s Charlotte, by the way.’
‘I’m Hannah. Thank you for looking after me. It all feels rather strange after London. I’m sorry about Sister Trim – I have no intention of treading on her toes.’
‘She has her eye on the prize: the position of matron one day,’ Charlotte said.
‘Mrs Knowles didn’t give me the impression that she was planning her retirement.’
‘Well, Trimmie has expectations, whereas I would hate to be in Matron’s shoes – she always seems to be stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. If she isn’t fighting a running battle with the doctors, she’s under siege from Mr Cumberpatch, the superintendent, who’s in charge of maintenance. As you may have noticed, there’s been a lot of building work over the past two or three years, although we still haven’t got a purpose-built nurses’ home. Never mind, the house that the infirmary rents for us is only a short walk away.’
‘How long have you been working here?’ Hannah asked as they tucked into their mutton, peas, carrots and bread, served with part of their daily ration of ale.
‘Five years – I was twenty-three when I started nursing. Before that, I was engaged to be married, but the man – he was no gentleman – in question jilted me three days before the wedding.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Hannah said quickly.
‘Don’t be. I was distraught at the time, because I really did believe that I loved him, and he felt the same about me, but I reckon I had a lucky escape, because a year later, he eloped with my younger sister. I was shamed and humiliated by my own flesh and blood. Imagine that!’
‘I can’t.’ Hannah was shocked, thinking of Ruby’s letter and the concern she felt for her. ‘Why would a sister do such a thing?’
‘I think she was jealous of my good fortune and set out to seduce him. Anyway, I’ve never asked her – we haven’t spoken since. After that, I needed occupation and an income, not wishing to impose on my parents any longer – my father is a bookseller who retired through ill health. To that end, I spent three months volunteering here before applying for a place on the wards. Anyway, that’s enough about me. What about you?’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Don’t tell me you became a nurse for the money.’
‘Everyone knows we work for nothing in return but God’s favour.’ Hannah smiled back. ‘No, I ran away from home to escape my father and the threat of a forced marriage to a man who was more than twice my age.’
‘Then it’s my turn to be sorry for being flippant.’
‘I turned to nursing because it was the only respectable occupation I could think of, having met a private nurse, an admirable woman who was taken on to care for my half-brothers when they had scarlet fever.’ She lowered her voice. ‘One of them – Theo – was taken up by the angels, but Christopher survived. I thought I could care for children like them and earn a decent living at the same time, enough to rent a small house and bring my sister to live with me, but it turns out that one can only do that when one’s been appointed to manage a ward.’
‘It’s a shame, but that’s the way it is. Marriage is the only other way out of this life of drudgery.’ Hannah wasn’t sure if Charlotte was being serious. ‘It’s all that I ever wanted until my fiancé broke my heart. I’m not sure I could go through with it again.’
‘I intend to hold on to my independence to my last breath,’ Hannah said. ‘I’ve seen the way my father has mistreated my stepmother and kept a tight hold on the purse-strings. He’s been violent to her, too, and she has no redress.’
‘You mean he beats her?’
‘He’s hurt her,’ Hannah responded.
It had started not long after Theo had passed away. She and Ruby had been upstairs in their room when they’d heard a crash and the sound of breaking glass, followed by an eerie silence. Hannah had stared at her sister as the shouting began.
‘You are my wife, my property, and you’d do well to remember it! Get out of my sight before I do you an injury.’
‘You hit me,’ Stepmother had cried.
‘I did nothing of the sort. You walked into the door. Oh, look at you, you miserable, snivelling whore. There was a time when you wanted nothing more than to be with me. Now you can’t wait to get away.’
‘What shall we do, Hannah?’ Ruby had whispered.
‘I don’t know. Pa will take it out on us, if we go down …’ Hannah’s heart had pounded as she’d heard her stepmother’s footsteps and the banging of doors. ‘We should find out if she’s all right, even though there’s no love lost between us.’
They had crept downstairs, following the sound of Stepmother’s sobbing to her boudoir where they’d knocked softly at the door, Hannah praying that their father wouldn’t turn up. ‘It’s me and Ruby,’ she’d said and after a while, their stepmother had opened the door and, keeping her face half covered, reassured them that all was well. There had been a minor disagreement over her plan to order a new coat for a special service at the cathedral where Christopher would be singing in the choir. Pa had knocked over a candlestick, breaking a pane of glass in the dining room. In her hurry to fetch the maid to clear it up, Stepmother had walked into the door, bruising her eye.
‘You see, it’s all my fault. I’ve always been prone to accidents.’
‘He called you a …’ – Hannah couldn’t bring herself to echo Pa’s exact words – ‘… an unfortunate woman.’
And Stepmother had deliberately misunderstood her. ‘I certainly am – I can’t possibly go and hear Christopher sing, looking like this. Go to bed, you two. It’s kind of you to come and find me, but there’s nothing to be done.’
Hannah shuddered at the memory.
‘Then your stepmother has all the disadvantages of marriage and none of the benefits.’ Charlotte sighed. ‘What do you think of Doctor Clifton?’
‘He seems very professional.’
‘Oh, come on. He’s like a god. Everyone says so, except Trimmie.’
‘I can’t say. I’ve only met him once.’ She had steeled herself against taking any significant notice of members of the male sex for some time, and it had become a habit. The doctor had a stirring voice, deep and authoritative with a lilt of tenderness when required, which she had observed when he had been examining Charlie’s knees. His countenance, eyes and smile were pleasing, but not excessively so.
‘I’ve seen him go beyond the call of duty many times, but he’s set far too high above the likes of us,’ Charlotte went on.
‘You would entertain another engagement?’ Hannah enquired.
‘I didn’t think I would, but now that a decent amount of time has elapsed, I would consider it.’ Charlotte chuckled. ‘I’m not interested in Doctor Clifton, if that’s what you’re thinking. Watch out for Mr Anthony, the surgeon – he’s a most disagreeable man, but very good at his job. And then there are the medical students who come here two or three at a time to see what we do at the infirmary. What else can I tell you?’
‘How were the boys? Sister Trim said she didn’t want them disturbed when I stopped by to see them.’
‘Charlie was none too keen on having a bath – Mrs Merry, the bathing attendant, had a devil of a time with him – but you should have seen the way his eyes lit up when he saw his dinner. He devoured the whole lot, but Peter hardly touched his, the poor little mite. I’m afraid he’s completely lost his merriment.’ Charlotte wiped her mouth with a napkin. ‘If you’re ready, I can show you where you’ll be sleeping. You’re sharing my room.’
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Hannah said.
‘Not at all, as long as you don’t snore like Charity used to. She’s gone to run a private convalescent home nearby – working on the wards left her almost worn out. Shall we go? Mr Mordikai said he’d arrange to have your boxes left outside the door.’
‘I haven’t brought much with me. The rest of my things are being sent on.’
‘I expect there’ll be a uniform waiting for you. Mrs Knowles is good like that – she looks after us.’
Hannah followed Charlotte out of the dining hall and they made their way out of the infirmary and along the road to a terraced house overlooking the sea.
‘This is it,’ Charlotte said as she opened the front door, letting Hannah inside. ‘Our room is on the top floor. It’s a little cramped, but it’s home.’
It was cosy and well-appointed with two beds, a washstand, table and rickety chaise. There was a pair of drapes in a heavy, blue brocade, and a striped rag rug.
‘Of course, the views are much better in daylight.’ Charlotte smiled as she showed Hannah the sights from the windows: a moonlit courtyard garden and other houses to the rear; the sea to the front. Hannah unpacked her few belongings, then turned in. Having assumed that she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she didn’t remember a thing from when her head hit the pillow, until the rattling of windows, laughter and the deep, throaty yells of masculine voices disturbed her. They began to sing,
‘If any sick they bring to me,
I physics, bleeds and sweats ’em.
If after that they choose to die,
What’s that to me? I Lettsom.’
‘What on earth’s going on? Is there a fire?’ Hannah leapt out of bed, but Charlotte was already at the open window, gazing into the darkness.
‘Gentlemen! That’s quite enough. There are ladies trying to sleep.’
‘Sleep? Oh, come down here, beautiful creatures …’
‘Who are they?’ Hannah clutched the collar of her nightgown, holding it across her throat, as she looked past Charlotte’s shoulder to find three faces looking up, their features illuminated by the moon. They were louche young men with trimmed beards and crumpled shirts. One had a tie dangling around his neck. Another carried what looked suspiciously like a tankard, and the third smiled inanely, flashing his white teeth.
‘You are like angels,’ he said, but Hannah didn’t think he was addressing her – his gaze lingered longingly on Charlotte.
‘Henry, they are angels,’ said one of his companions. ‘They are too good for the likes of us.’
‘For goodness’ sake, go home to bed!’ Charlotte said, half scolding, half laughing. ‘We have to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow. And you’re making yourselves look ridiculous.’
‘You heard what the lady said.’ Henry’s companions lifted him under the arms and dragged him away protesting, before he called back, ‘Goodnight, my darlings.’
‘They’re going to have sore heads tomorrow.’ Grinning, Charlotte closed the curtains. ‘They’re the latest crop of medical students who’ve come to make the most of what Margate has to offer. They get in the way on the wards, but I don’t mind – they liven the place up.’
‘I’ve met their kind before,’ Hannah said. ‘It never ceases to amaze me how they suddenly transform from boorish louts to respectable physicians, like butterflies emerging from their cocoons.’ She returned to bed and heard nothing more until Charlotte woke her.
‘Morning,’ she said brightly. ‘It’s time to rise and shine.’
‘That felt like a very short night,’ Hannah sighed, but she didn’t take long to get ready, eager to find her way around the infirmary. However, Matron’s plan for her orientation fell apart as staff shortages meant that she was sent straight to the Lettsom, where Sister Trim gave her a lecture to start the day.
‘I expect you to turn up on my ward smartly presented and clean to honour the memory of our founder, Doctor Coakley Lettsom, gemmologist, philanthropist, botanist …’
As Sister Trim listed his interests – apparently, he had even introduced the mangelwurzel, whatever that was, to England – Hannah wondered how on earth he’d had time to be a doctor as well. She could only deduce that he must have had the support of an obliging wife and a multitude of servants.
‘He made a fortune from his private patients, but he used it wisely, endowing this infirmary to the residents of Margate and beyond. Now, I don’t know how you were taught, but we have our own way of doing things around here.’
‘I understand,’ Hannah said.
‘A child’s prattle is wearying and sometimes the parents are horrible. They can be uncivil and treat you like a servant, but you have to bear their ingratitude and do your duty without complaining.’
Hannah had to bite her tongue as Sister Trim continued, ‘Always speak in a low and gentle voice. Walk carefully – I hope your shoes don’t squeak – and not on tiptoes, for there’s a sham quietness that disturbs the sick more than the loudest noise.’
‘Yes, Sister.’ She heard a water closet flushing and the gurgle and banging of water in the pipes, and the tick-tick-tick as they heated up to provide the day’s baths.
‘The doctors will stop here on their rounds at about nine o’clock when all the patients should be ready, the bedpans emptied, and the bedsides spick and span. Then it’s breakfast time for those who are not nil by mouth. Lunch is taken out on the balcony, come rain or shine. When the patients are outdoors, you will change the beds, dust the ward – including the windowsills – and mop the floors.’
‘May I assist with Master Swift’s bath?’ she dared to ask.
Sister Trim stared at her. ‘We don’t allow favourites here. Anyway, that’s the bathing attendant’s responsibility, not yours. Make haste. Nurse Finch will show you where to find the equipment you need: a place for everything, and everything in its place.’
Soon the ward was tidy, although Hannah hadn’t got around to attending to all her patients by the time the doctors made their appearance. She heard them before she saw them: the sound of their metal-tipped shoes tapping against the teak floorboards. Doctor Clifton introduced her to Mr Anthony, who was in his forties, and one of those men who made up for their lack of stature by being as disagreeable as possible. He had delicate fingers, a Roman nose and a bald head, and his loud voice alarmed the children.
‘Good day, Nurse,’ he said gruffly. ‘Tell me about Master Herring. Has he complained of pain overnight? Has he evacuated his bowels this morning? Why haven’t you removed his bandages in readiness? Even with my excellent vision, I haven’t the capacity to see through gauze.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t have time to prepare on this occasion,’ she said, refusing to be cowed.
‘Well, that just isn’t good enough, but it’s the sort of incompetence I’ve come to expect from Matron’s handmaidens.’
‘Nurse Bentley is new to the house,’ Doctor Clifton said.
‘Excuses, excuses.’ Mr Anthony turned on him. ‘There’s no excuse for laziness.’
Hannah’s face burned. He was a bully – she’d met his like before. Whenever there was a foul smell on the ward, the surgeons would scurry past while the nurses valiantly rushed in. Had Sister Trim deliberately tripped her up, keeping her away from her patients while she lectured her? she wondered as Mr Anthony waited, huffing with impatience as she removed Peter’s bandages.
Eventually, the doctors finished their round, giving their instructions for each patient. The surgeon rushed off to begin on his list of operations for the day.
‘Don’t worry about him,’ Doctor Clifton said, stepping up beside her. ‘He’s a brilliant man, but his manner leaves a little to be desired.’
‘You mean ol’ fly-rink, the one with the bald ’ead,’ Charlie said, overhearing.
‘It’s none of your business.’ Hannah tried not to smile.
‘I don’t know ’ow you ’eld your tongue.’
‘Charlie!’
‘I never knew what nursin’ was all about.’
‘Never mind,’ she said, amused. ‘Neither do the doctors.’
Doctor Clifton didn’t appear the slightest bit offended. He kept his voice low, so she had to lean in to hear him.
‘Would you do me a favour? Give this to Johnnie from me. Remind him to hide it from Sister, or we’ll be in the doghouse.’ Like a magician, he let a knitting needle fall from inside his shirtsleeve.
‘Do you knit, Doctor Clifton?’ she asked.
‘I undertake a little sewing, although I prefer to leave the suturing of wounds to the surgeons. No, this belonged to my dearly departed wife.’
‘I’m sorry …’ She felt guilty for asking the question, but how was she supposed to know that he was a widower? Charlotte hadn’t mentioned he’d been married. She’d assumed he was one of the luckiest men in the world, born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth into a good family, educated at Oxford or Cambridge before registering with the Royal College of Physicians. He certainly had all the advantages that nature could bestow. She glanced from his hands, strong yet gentle, his nails blunt and clean, to the knitting needle. ‘I can’t take this,’ she said. ‘It’s a danger to the children. They will have someone’s eye out with it.’
‘Don’t you have any compassion for Johnnie’s predicament?’
‘I have every sympathy for him, but this isn’t the solution.’
She realised now why he’d been soft-soaping her, acting on friendly terms – so he could take advantage of her good nature. If he imagined that she would side with him rather than Sister Trim, then he was wrong.
‘Good day, Doctor,’ she said hotly.
‘I’ll have to find another way,’ he sighed.
‘Please don’t. If I find that anywhere near here, I’ll have to report you.’
He frowned, and she wished she’d made more light of it.
After he had left the ward, she helped Peter with his breakfast, served up in a pewter dish marked ‘Margate infmry’ on the rim.
‘I’m not ’ungry.’ He couldn’t swallow even a morsel of porridge. ‘Me neck ’urts.’
‘He ain’t up to dick,’ Charlie said from the next bed along. ‘He ain’t well at all.’
Hannah couldn’t help wondering what a bath and a day in the sun was going to do for him. No amount of dressing changes was going to alter his fate. When she left his bedside, Peter lay back on the pillow, his face as white as the sheet which covered his skinny frame.
‘Master Swift, you’re the first one on my list!’ Hannah looked up as a middle-aged woman with roughened hands, plump arms and a beaming smile came across to Charlie’s bedside.
‘No, Mrs Merry.’ He sat up and pulled the sheet over his head. ‘I won’t ’ave anuvver bath.’
‘Come on, Charlie. It will do you good.’ Hannah went across and tugged the sheet away, much to his annoyance.
‘The bath is lovely and warm,’ Mrs Merry said.
‘I’ve seen what ’appens to soap when you leave it in water. That’s what Ma says’ll ’appen to me.’
‘That’s a load of old—’ Mrs Merry broke off as Sister Trim stalked towards them.
Charlie shrank back at the ferocity of her stare.
‘Rules is rules. You bathe daily, or you leave the infirmary so that another sickly child can have your place,’ she said.
Charlie looked at Peter whose eyes glazed with sudden tears.
‘It’s all right. I won’t leave you, my friend,’ he said gamely, and he slipped out of the bed, wincing as his legs bore his weight. Anticipating trouble, Mrs Merry picked him up under one arm and carried him off. A few minutes later, Hannah heard his howls of anguish echoing through the corridors.
‘My word, it sounded as if someone was being murdered,’ Charlotte exclaimed when Mrs Merry returned with a dejected Charlie limping along behind her, shivering in his pyjamas.
‘Somebody’ll be murdered if they carry on like that,’ Mrs Merry said gaily, boxing Charlie’s ear. ‘Look at my apron. I’ve almost ’ad a bath myself. Get changed, then you can go and play out on the balcony.’
Hannah helped him – he smelled faintly of seaweed.
‘I ain’t feeling no better,’ he grumbled, ‘and the salt’s got into me cuts and grazes.’
‘It takes time,’ she said, and she sent him out into the sunshine to join Peter, who was already sitting up, watching a steam packet with a long pennant of blue smoke trailing from its funnel, making its way across Westbrook Bay towards the pier.
‘Charlie, can you see them angels dancin’ on the sea?’ she heard Peter say.
‘No,’ Charlie said. ‘Where?’
‘They’re like lights on the tops of the waves. Oh, look at ’em. There’s ’undreds of ’em out there.’
Hannah took a moment to look too, but she couldn’t see anything, apart from the sun’s rays glittering across the surface of the sea. Both boys seemed brighter and more settled, but she couldn’t help wondering if this was simply the calm before the storm.
She wasn’t sure if the infirmary was going to suit her either. She missed Alice and the children’s hospital, having felt perfectly at home there. However, she had no option but to stay on, no matter how much she wished she could take the next boat – even the hoy – back to London, because this was the only way she could see of bringing Ruby to live with her, something which seemed all the more urgent now, thanks to her letter.
Pa was trying to interfere with her correspondence. How long would it be before he had lined up some unsuitable suitor for her? Mr Edison was long gone, refusing to entertain marriage to either of the Bentley sisters after Hannah’s running away from home had shown the young ladies to be flighty and out of control, but there were bound to be others.
Hannah’s dearest wish was for them to be reunited, and she was determined not to let her sister down.