‘A stinking Kraut!’
The words hit Mary like a slap in the face as she passed the door of the laundry room. Two nurses had their backs to her as they pretended to arrange already folded towels piled on the shelves. Mary stopped, every impulse telling her to keep on walking, but she willed herself to stay, to refuse to creep away. Do nothing, she thought, and you might as well give in your notice to the Hospital Board.
‘I presume Sister Davies knows you two are in here?’ Without waiting for a reply from the two girls who spun around to face her, she continued, ‘And when I go on to your ward I also presume I will find it spotless?’
‘Yes Matron.’ The one who spoke had blanched so much that Mary thought she would faint and she had to prevent herself from reaching out towards her.
‘Good. Then I will tell her that, as you have carried out your duties so well on her ward, you will be continuing your training on Tudor Ward.’ They barely suppressed their dismay. The geriatric ward was the least favourite amongst all the student nurses. ‘I need not remind you that your role as nurses includes the hygiene and the social and psychological welfare of the patients, regardless of any difficulties you might encounter.’ Their heads were lowered so she couldn’t see their faces. ‘Nurses?’
‘Yes, Matron.’
‘Good. However I do not think I will inflict you upon the patients on the ward there.’ She didn’t miss the look of relief they exchanged. ‘No, you will be in the sluice room.’ It wasn’t relief on their faces now. ‘You will take over from the students in there, dealing with the bedpans. Now get along. Report to Sister Rees on Tudor, tell her what I have said. I’ll be checking on the two of you later.’
They glanced at one another. For a moment Mary thought they were going to challenge her. ‘Now!’ she snapped.
Waiting until she saw them go through the swing door to the geriatric ward she turned to go back to her office. She had a full afternoon of interviewing prospective student nurses and Bob Willis the Hospital Secretary would be waiting for her.
Vivienne Allott was standing at the side of the corridor, one foot flat against the wall, arms crossed.
Mary knew she must have been listening. ‘What are you doing, Nurse Allott?’
‘Nothing Matron.’ The girl met Mary’s stare.
‘That’s quite obvious, Nurse. I’ll rephrase the question. What should you be doing?’
‘I’ve just come off shift.’ She didn’t move.
‘Then I suggest you go home.’
Still no movement.
‘Stand up straight when I address you, Nurse.’
Vivienne Allott moved slowly. She straightened the front of her apron, adjusted her cap. Although she maintained the surly pout when she looked up to meet Mary’s stare, there was apprehension in her eyes.
‘You do realise I could report you to the Board for insubordination?’ Even as she spoke, Mary knew she couldn’t. She had no grounds other than Allott spreading rumours about her. And they weren’t just rumours, were they, she said to herself. She was with Peter. There would be problems if it came to the Hospital Board’s attention that she was living with him. They’d take a dim view of their Matron ‘living in sin’, let alone with a German. There were some mealy-mouthed old beggars on the Board.
And Nurse Allott knew it as well. ‘But you won’t, will you, Matron? I’ve done nothing wrong.’
Over the last week it had been one long line of sly remarks and outraged looks. The hospital had become a bedrock of gossip about her and Peter. Mary hated pretending to be oblivious to the atmosphere when all she wanted to do was lash out. Now, standing in front of her was the probable source of all the tittle-tattle. Mary folded her arms. She moved closer to the girl. ‘I know it’s you, you vicious little cow.’ Shocked, Vivienne took a step back. Mary followed her. ‘I know you’re the blabbermouth, the one who is spreading your vindictive gossip. And I’m warning you, if I hear any more spiteful remarks – from anyone – I will hold you personally responsible.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Vivienne Allott protested.
Unheeding, Mary continued, ‘I will make sure you’re so far up to your armpits with bedpans you don’t come out of the sluice room for weeks. Now, do we understand one another?’
She nodded, barely moving her head.
‘Nurse?’ Mary wasn’t going to let this go so easily.
‘Yes Matron.’ But even though her tone portrayed nothing but acceptance, the hostility in her gaze shook Mary. She forced herself to turn and stride away. She didn’t trust herself not to hit the girl. Her lips twisted into wry self-condemnation. Perhaps there was more of her father in her than she appreciated.