Mindful of Bates’ warning May presented herself to Sister, who was rustling down from the far end of the ward. She was subjected to a tight-lipped scrutiny, but thankfully Sister merely informed her that she was well behind with her work and she must sweep and dust the ward at once, then report to Staff Nurse. May rushed back clutching broom, box of dusters, shovel and bucket of tealeaves in an unwieldy bundle. Earlier, May’s imagination had dwelt excitedly on the moment of her first entry on to a hospital ward as a fully-fledged nurse; it would be a dramatic and significant occasion. Instead she felt hot, flustered and awkward. Everything had been such a rush and her dress was tight and her starched collar bit into her neck as she bent down and dumped her tools on to the floor. She picked up her bucket, tipped it and threw a sweeping arc of tea leaves in front of her and began to savage them with the broom. Almost at once a hoarse voice called from her right.
‘Nurse, Nurse.’
At first this made no impression on May at all; then suddenly she realised that the prone figure in the second bed was beckoning to her. Her heart sank; what could he want that she would possibly be able to do for him? She looked round, but all the other nurses were out of sight behind screens further up the ward. May was sorely tempted to rush up and tug at someone’s skirts and beg them to come in her place, but the old man’s gestures were becoming more frantic, and visions of delirium raced through her mind – he might fall out of bed while she was away. Squaring her shoulders she put down the broom and marched over to him.
‘Yes? What can I do for you?’
To her relief it was obvious from the expression in the patient’s eyes that he was alert and fully conscious; indeed, he appeared to be trying not to laugh.
‘New, are yer, gal?’
May hesitated, then admitted, ‘Yes, it is my first day. Can I help you?’
‘No, lass, I can help you. Yer doin’ it wrong.’
May bridled. ‘Doing what wrong?’
‘Everythin’, so far. Ain’t that right, ’Arold?’
May turned to the next bed. A blue-chinned individual with a squashed nose gave a faint nod as he lay propped up on his pillows. He panted, ‘’Sright. You tell ’er, Dad. She’s only young.
‘I’m twenty-two!’ May said indignantly.
‘That’s wrong, too,’ the old man was chortling. ‘You didn’t oughter tell us personal things like that – Sister’d ’ave yer guts fer garters.’
‘She already has done,’ May rejoined gloomily.
‘Right then, you listen to us. Yer gotter dust first, before yer sweeps.’
‘Why?’
‘Cor blimey, yer worse than a new recruit. ’Cos they always does it that way, that’s why. Dust first, everywhere yer can find ter dust, dust it, fast. ’Ere, ’and me that glass, duck, Staffs looking this way. Now, put yer tools neat-like next the fire, don’t leave ’em about like that – ’cos someone’ll trip over ’em, that’s why,’ forestalling May’s interjection. ‘Yer’ll ’ave ter move now, she’s lookin’ again. When yer done what I told yer come back and ’and me me glass again and I’ll tell yer what to do next. Right, ’Arold?’
‘Right, Dad.’
With a hurried word of thanks May stacked her utensils near the hearth, picked up her duster and began to rub everything she could see with it. Halfway up the ward at hollow-cheeked grey-faced man pushed himself up off the pillow and called her over.
‘Aspidistra,’ he gasped, then fell back exhausted. May looked wildly round, then rushed back to the centre table and passed her duster over the glossy leaves. Then she was off again on her headlong charge.
‘You are nearly running, Nurse Winton,’ came the carrying tones of Sister stationed at the far bed. ‘Nurses do not run other than in the case of fire or haemorrhage.’
‘No, Sister, thank you, Sister,’ a flustered May tossed the apology over her shoulder. Down the far side, back to the entrance, dusting frantically as she went, May felt the beginnings of a stitch, and was aware of her corset digging uncomfortably into her ribs. She trotted over to the old man; on her circuit she had noted the charts over the beds, and now with a quick flick upwards she read his name.
‘Good morning Mr Tomkins. Would you like a drink of water?’
He grinned his approval as he took the glass. ‘Thank yer, Nurse,’ loudly, then, dropping to a conspiratorial tone, ‘Now, get yer broom and put the end with the bristles on the floor.’ Harold gave a sycophantic chuckle from the next bed, and May glared at Mr Tomkins. ‘I have seen a broom used before!’
‘I wouldn’t ever’ve believed it. Throw an ’andful o’ tea leaves on the floor, they lays the dust, see, then push the broom forrards – away from you, what yer was doing before put dirt all over yer shoes and stockings. Up this side, down the other, and keep level. If yer doing it wrong ’Arold an’ me’ll shake our ’eads. Orlright?’
‘All right,’ May echoed. She flashed a smile of thanks at him and then was off for her broom. Apart from banging into a trolley and earning a glance of reproof from Staff Nurse she got round the ward without mishap. Scrambling her implements together she returned them to the kitchen.
‘Give ’em ’ere, Nurse. I’ll empty yer shovel for you, just this once.’
‘Thank you, I’m afraid I don’t know your name – I’m Nurse Winton.’
The maid looked surprised, but pleased. She wiped her hand on her apron and held it out to May.
‘Pleased ter meet yer, I’m sure. Me name’s Roberts. Missus Roberts, but you can call me Maudie, like the others.’
They shook hands and then May pounded back to the ward and thankfully noticed Staff Nurse at the centre table.
She put her hands behind her back and reported: ‘I’ve dusted and swept, Staff.’
Staff Nurse’s practised gaze scoured the ward. ‘Fluff, third bed from the end, Nurse Winton, and the fourth locker on the right is crooked.’ May panted off to rectify the faults. ‘Well, it’ll have to do, since it’s your first day, but tomorrow Sister will run her finger over every ledge; it must be perfect. The bedpans are waiting for you in the sluice; wash them, and then bottles, test glasses and spitting mugs.’ May swallowed, but as Staff moved away she hastily asked, ‘Please, Nurse, would you show me the right way to do them?’
Staff Nurse gave an exasperated sigh, then, obviously having heard of the mackintosh episode said, ‘Well, you are new. I’ll send Pro Three to help you.’
May’s spirits lifted when Pro Three turned out to be the helpful, dark-haired girl. She whisked down the ward with a smile, and the words, ‘I’m Sellers, by the way,’ as they went into the sluice. ‘Bates didn’t tell you what to do this morning, did she?’
May shook her head.
Sellers continued, ‘Sister scares her stiff, and she takes it out on everyone else, if she gets the chance. She can’t help it.’
‘Well, I did upset her at breakfast, and my step-mother has often told me how tactless I am.’
Sellers grinned at May. ‘Oh, so that was you, was it? You’re certainly making an impression on your first day. Now for goodness’ sake listen carefully and do just as I tell you – I haven’t got long.’
Sellers reeled off her instructions; May listened intently.
‘Lysol, this bottle here, put about that much,’ finger held against the bottle, ‘in the sink. Use this tow, and watch for the handles, they’re hollow and you must get them absolutely clean inside, Staff will have a squint down them when you’ve finished. Bottles, urinals, that is, some of them get a bit smelly, put a piece of bicarb in and pour really hot water down their necks.
It was obvious from the smell what these funnel-mouthed objects were used for, but May was puzzled. ‘Why don’t they just use bedpans, Nurse Sellers?’
‘They do on a women’s ward, but the men use bottles, it’s really much easier.’
May still didn’t understand. ‘But however do they use them – isn’t it rather awkward? And why only men?’
Sellers turned and stared at May. ‘Have you no baby brothers, Winton?’
May shook her head.
‘Oh dear,’ Sellers hesitated, then her face cleared. ‘You must have noticed male horses, what they do – well, men are the same. Only smaller, of course,’ she added hastily.
May looked at Sellers in amazement. ‘How very odd!’
Sellers was obviously trying not to smile. She said kindly, ‘You’ll see odder things than that in hospital. Now, these are spitting cups, you do know how they’re used?’
‘Yes, Nurse.’ May peered inside. ‘Ugh, how revolting!’
‘Yes, I prefer bedpans myself, but actually you can learn a lot about a patient’s condition from these, Winton. But just wash them out now, and put turps in the bottom when you’ve finished. Here it is. Test glasses, for urine, you know – don’t touch them until you’re sure they’re finished with. If they’re stained you can use some nitric acid, but only a few drops, mind, and be careful, it can give you a nasty burn. I must go now – if you’re really in difficulties come and find me or Bates, but don’t go near the ward while the honoraries are there, whatever you do though they mostly come round in the afternoon.’
Sellers was gone before May could ask who or what the honoraries were – they sounded like a variety of geranium, but presumably were something more important.
May marched resolutely over to the sink, turned on the hot tap and reached gingerly for the first bedpan. Suddenly Sellers was back; she opened a cupboard and handed May a piece of waterproof sheeting. ‘Jaconet, pin that round you, otherwise you’ll have no aprons left by the end of the week.’
‘Thank you, Nurse.’
May picked up the lysol bottle and poured the recommended quantity into the sink.
Once she had overcome the initial feelings of nausea May found a certain satisfaction in attacking the bedpans; at least you knew where you were with bedpans, there was no pretence about them: and she had remembered to fill the urinals first so they could soak in their bicarb. She paused for a moment and stared at them in wonderment. Well, she had learnt something today, at least!
At ten o’clock Staff Nurse appeared at the sluice door. ‘Haven’t you finished yet, Winton? Really, you’ll have to learn to work faster. Report to Sister at once.’
May’s heart jumped. ‘Why, what have I done wrong now?’
‘Everything, very likely,’ Staff Nurse replied, then relenting, ‘She will send you off duty for half an hour to dust and sweep your own room and make your bed; and if you move quickly you’ll have time to snatch a glass of milk in the dining room before you come back.’
May sped along the corridor to Sister’s table and found Pro Two already there, being dismissed as well. She raced off and May panted after her, determined to find out the whereabouts of the brooms and dusters in the Nurses’ Home. Having asked this May continued, ‘Wouldn’t it be easier for the maids to do our rooms?’
Pro Two, who had a rather unpleasant flat-vowelled accent replied tersely, ‘We’re cheaper. Do get a move on, Winton, otherwise I’m not waiting for you.’
It struck May that after years of being told to walk in a more decorous and ladylike manner she was now being constantly scolded for her slowness! She quickened into a trot, only to be told, ‘Don’t run, we aren’t allowed to run except in cases of fire and haemorrhage – you’ll get into trouble with Sister.’
‘Which Sister?’
‘Every Sister,’ was the repressive reply, and May lapsed into silence and concentrated on copying Pro Two’s scuttle – ungainly, but definitely fast.
Pro Two, though not particularly friendly, did give May the help she needed, and twenty minutes later chivvied her down to the dining room where large pitchers of milk stood waiting and, to May’s delight, piled slices of bread and basins of dripping. She spread a slice and then noticed one of the new probationers watching her.
‘Hello, I’m May Winton. You started yesterday as well, didn’t you?’
The girl nodded; she was tall and bony, but with striking features. Her voice was clear, ‘Ada Farrar.’ She shot out her hand.
May, perilously balancing glass and plate in her left hand shook it firmly. ‘How are you getting on?’ she asked.
Ada Farrar emitted a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snarl. ‘Do you know, some little pipsqueak of a doctor, barely wet behind the ears, came into the ward this morning and we had to practically get down on our knees and salaam to him! Fancy, the Sister must be well into her fifties, she must know a thousand times more than he does, and yet she kowtows to him – just because he’s a man!’ She put down her glass with a bang and added, unnecessarily, May thought, ‘I’m a suffragist, myself. Well, I suppose I’d better get back, I don’t want another shouting match,’ and flashing a smile surprising in its charm and vivacity she was off. May, cheered by the encounter, followed suit.
The rest of the morning passed in a whirl. May cleaned all the baths and basins and polished the taps, then she polished the taps again, since Staff Nurse said they were smeary. After this a great pile of soiled linen had to be sorted out, and the worst stained drawsheets rinsed out, since the laundry maids were apparently more fastidious than the nurses. As soon as the linen was neatly folded in its baskets, it all had to be taken out again while she searched for a patient’s personal shirt that she had put in by mistake. By this stage May felt that she was spending as long undoing her tasks as she was doing them, and it was clear from Staff Nurse’s terse comments that she shared this view.
Then she was back on the bedpans and bottles. ‘But I did the bedpans this morning, Staff Nurse.’
‘They’ve been used again, Winton.’
‘Oh.’
‘And there’s the bandages to be washed, they’re soaking in carbolic over there. Do get a move on, Winton.’
When she saw the bandages May felt sick – she thought she could have faced the bloodstains with stoicism, but the foul, yellow-green streaks of pus were another matter altogether, and she had to force herself to pick up the reeking slimy mass. She closed her eyes tightly and threw them into a sink full of hot soapy water. But eventually they had been scrubbed and hung out to dry and there was the exquisite relief of leaving the smelly sluice and being sent to cut bread for the patients’ dinners. Once in the kitchen May would have been in further trouble had not Maudie come to her rescue and shown her the correct way to handle the knife – and even then the slices were either too thick or too thin.
Still, Staff Nurse’s rebuke was followed by a summons to the ward, and May spent a hectic but interesting half hour rushing round with trays and plates of dinner, soon realising her worst mistakes would be either put right or concealed by the patients themselves: the more Sister harangued the junior pros the more the men closed ranks on their behalf. After dinner May scurried round the ward again with her broom, and then was sent to Sister to be dismissed for her own dinner.
‘Nurses Sellers and Winton, you will be off-duty until five. You may go now.’
May’s face lit up – three and a half hours without any scrubbing, sweeping or dusting, what bliss!
As they left the ward she said to Sellers: ‘I was expecting another dressing-down from Sister. I seem to have made one mistake after another today.’
Sellers was reassuring. ‘Well, it’s obvious you’ve never done much housework but you’ll learn. And you’re really very lucky to be starting on Simeon – Sister’s very fair, she only tells you off for what you have done wrong.’
‘Well, I seem to have given her plenty of scope.’ May’s voice was rather downcast.
‘Don’t worry. Sister Simeon is a good teacher, she really looks after her pros – after all, she came on early today specially, because it was your first day.’
May tried to look grateful, but privately she felt that she would prefer rather less consideration from Sister in future. She changed the subject.
‘Nurse Sellers, are we allowed to go outside this afternoon?’
Sellers stared at her. ‘Of course we are! This isn’t a prison.’
‘But I suppose we have to have a companion if we do go out?’
‘Goodness – wherever do you come from? This is London, you know, not Casablanca. There are some areas, Limehouse, for instance, the Chinese quarter, that people say are dangerous at night, but personally I’ve always found them very respectful. I don’t suppose you’ll get dragged into an opium den in the middle of the afternoon. No, there’s no problem about going out – it’s if you don’t get back by five o’clock that the trouble starts!’
By now they were at the dining room, and separated, May taking her place at her lowly table where she looked in dismay at the plate of watery stew and soggy potato that was slapped down in front of her. But she felt positively hollow inside, so she raised her knife and fork, remembering as she did so the delicious lunches sent up by Chef at Stemhalton. A wave of homesickness threatened to engulf her, but she fought it down and reached for the bread.