I never touched rum again after that. I hadn’t been much of a drinker anyway, but not for want of encouragement, from Aisling, of course. Drink just didn’t agree with me, as I discovered on our trip together to Brighton.
We had decided to catch the train to Brighton, all because Aisling wanted to go to the Pavilion. I was entirely willing, but it was she who had all the ideas and made the plans, and I was happy to follow. It was obvious to anyone who cared to notice that Aisling and I had grown close. I hadn’t realised how close, of course, I only knew I was in awe of her. I followed her around like her devoted shadow. Aisling had the courage to be all the things I was so frightened of. Bold, fearless and unashamedly herself, she carried this innate belief that everything would be all right, come what may. I even started to feel that way myself. I had never had a sister, or a best friend and so she became all things to me. We were together as much as we could be, and if we were apart, I spent my hours thinking of her. Whenever I dared to dream of the future, Aisling was most definitely in it, leading from the front, me trailing behind her, quite happily as it should happen.
When the day came for Brighton it was bright and sunny, we couldn’t believe our luck, but the train was packed, too crowded, and it appeared everyone else in London had had the same idea. We spent the morning walking along the pier, sitting on the beach on pebbles that dug into our behinds, and throwing winkles at the seagulls to see if they would catch them. Eventually we decided not to bother going to the Pavilion after all. It was early afternoon when Aisling suggested we start making our way back, to miss the rush.
‘What? After coming all this way? It was you wanted to come,’ I said.
‘You can’t do that,’ said Aisling.
‘Do what?’
‘Let me make all the plans all the time and then criticise.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘Yes, you were.’
‘Not really. I thought you wanted to come here, that’s all.’
‘I did, but it’s too busy, and there’s nowhere to sit. It’s like being cattle, we have to keep shuffling forwards. Why don’t we go home?’
‘All right,’ I said, although I was confused by her change of heart.
Partway through our journey back, the train pulled into a quiet little station. I was staring out of the window not paying much attention when Aisling stood up, grabbed my arm and dragged me to the door of the carriage.
‘Come on, let’s get out here.’
‘What? Why?’
Before I knew it, we were the only people on the platform and our train had left. I didn’t know where we were. The station was positively ghostly. A tiny ticket office with a geriatric stationmaster and a half-dead lurcher were the only souls.
‘What’s the point of this?’ I asked, but she ignored me.
We trudged along a country lane to nothingness, with fields on either side. It was a dry earthen track that stretched for miles and we had no idea what awaited us in either direction.
‘Aisling, what are we doing here?’
‘Stop worrying. We can catch a later train. Isn’t it a lovely day? We don’t get to feel the sun on our skin often, we should make the most of it.’
‘I thought we were doing that in Brighton.’
‘It was too busy – I couldn’t breathe. It was as bad as Whitechapel.’
‘Honestly…’ I stopped and threw my hands in the air. ‘I have no idea what pleases you.’
She turned around, walking backwards, laughing, ‘Come on! Let’s find somewhere to sit down, under a tree, somewhere in the open. I miss having so much space!’
The shouting disturbed the dozing birds and started a ripple of their cries. One after another they shrieked and took to the air, out from under the canopy of the trees.
‘In London you can’t move for people, and Brighton was the same. I’m disappointed. I should like to go back when I’m rich enough to pay for other people not to be there.’
‘Good luck waiting for that day,’ I mumbled and tramped along behind.
We ambled along the uneven track for an age until Aisling found a spot under a tree in an open field. There wasn’t a soul around, just cows grazing. We sat down and leaned on our elbows, squinting at the haze of the sun as the warm air was shaken off the long grass. Aisling let out a sigh and flopped down onto her back with her hands stretched out to either side.
‘Why is it when you get a telling-off it makes you sulk so?’ she said. ‘Like after you got sent out of that lesson. You must have been told off before.’
‘I’ve been told off plenty. But it means a lot more at the hospital. I only want to get it right. I’ve pinned all my hopes on being a nurse, I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to be average; I want to be extraordinary. I want to be perfect. To prove it was worth it.’
‘What was worth it?’
‘Oh, you know. The upheaval.’
‘No one is perfect, Susannah. No one. Have you noticed that it’s only women who curse ourselves with such a stupid ambition? You don’t catch men worrying about being perfect. They go about the world making a great hash of things and don’t think much of it. You know what my brother says? “Do what you will, and if no one catches you, it didn’t happen.”’
‘But I did get caught.’
‘You threw a bandage, it’s hardly a crime. I’m only sorry you didn’t throw a brick at Mabel’s face – she’s such a curious combination of tart and self-righteousness. You know what my brother would say?’
‘I don’t, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me,’ I said, lying down beside her, propped up on one elbow.
She slapped me on the arm. ‘Well I won’t bother imparting my dear brother’s wisdom then. He’s a wise man, my brother.’
‘I thought you told me he shot himself in the foot with his own rifle?’
‘He did, but he was drunk. Anyone might do that.’
‘That’s why I don’t drink.’
The sun was shining straight into our eyes. I was relaxed and warm. I could easily have fallen asleep right there. Aisling rolled up onto her elbow so that our faces were now only inches apart. She squinted and picked something out of my hair. I held my breath.
‘You have grass in your hair,’ she said, but didn’t roll away.
I knew she was going to kiss me and I froze. My stomach threw itself in all directions and I didn’t know what to do. I was like a frightened rabbit. Aisling didn’t look away or move. Only her lips came towards mine.
I was saved by a distant rumble coming along the tracks behind us. I leapt to my feet.
‘Come on! It’s our train. We might miss it.’
I picked up my skirts and raced towards the station. Aisling came running behind me.
We spent the train journey home in silence. Aisling sat in her seat, stiff as a board, staring out of the window as if she might cry. I didn’t know what to say to make it right again, because I wasn’t sure what had happened or how to talk about it. We jerked from side to side with the movement of the carriage. Every so often I saw tears welling up in her eyes, but she seemed angry. When we were nearly back at London Bridge, I tried.
‘Are you speaking to me?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be speaking to you?’ she snapped.
‘Have I upset you?’
‘No, of course you haven’t.’ She still wouldn’t look at me.
When the train finally pulled to a stop and we alighted, I had difficulty keeping up, she was striding towards the exit at such a pace.
‘Where are you going, Aisling?’ I had to run to catch her up.
‘For a drink,’ she said.
‘What, on your own? In the daytime?’
‘Yes, in the daytime. Shocking, isn’t it? There I am, being outrageous, doing something simply because I want to do it. I guess I must be mad, or sick.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ I said.
‘You don’t drink, remember?’
‘I don’t think you should be on your own, drinking alcohol. I’ll come with you.’
‘You don’t think I should be on my own?’ Aisling came to an abrupt stop and several people almost barged into the back of her. I cringed, but she didn’t even notice. ‘I’ll be fine. I don’t need you looking down your nose at me.’ Then she stomped off.
What on earth was she talking about? I had never judged Aisling. I hardly considered myself in a position to judge anyone.
I caught her up as she turned out of the exit and followed her down the road. Where we were going, I had no idea.
‘I’m sorry I ran away,’ I said.
She stopped walking again, sending more people almost straight into the back of her. They moved around her, grunting and complaining. I was painfully aware of the inconvenience we were causing, but she didn’t care.
‘What are you sorry for?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. I was nervous.’
‘Do you think me disgusting?’
‘God, no! If anything, it’s me that’s… I… You know… I’m not sure what to say. Can’t we go for that drink?’ I asked.
‘Fine, you’re buying.’
‘I can do that,’ I said.
I don’t actually know how we got home. Afterwards, I could barely recall a thing – just vague images of me walking or being all but carried, and streaks of people blurring into one another as I glided down the street. It was like someone had run their fingers down a wet oil painting and sent all the colours into one another. The world was a smear of everybody and everything.
I’d never drunk alcohol before; my grandparents were teetotal. It tasted foul, and for a long while I didn’t feel a thing. All that talk of gin making you happy and giddy and gay – to start with, I thought it all a great swindle. But the very next moment I was a stumbling, dribbling wreck. Aisling had to drag me through the hospital and take me upstairs without anyone catching us. In the room we shared, the other nurses were already asleep. We both broke out into fits of giggles because we couldn’t see what we were doing or where we were going. I must have grabbed someone’s feet in one of the beds as I felt my way along and that set me off laughing again. There were shrieks and gasps and requests to be quiet until someone lit a candle. I remember scrunched-up faces with bedraggled hair squinting at us, like moles, as Aisling set me down on my bed. Even though the walls were made of stone and the draughts blew through without obstacle, it was still a room in the attic, and with six bodies in their beds, breathing and snoring, it was not the most fragrant.
As soon as I lay down, the room started to whirl about, so I sat bolt upright. The other girls were whining, sitting up and rubbing their eyes. Aisling was on the floor trying to pull my boots off, but then she fell back on the floor herself and started giggling. I did not feel well.
‘My Lord, you two! Where have you been? Look at you,’ said Nora, one of our roommates.
‘Oh Susannah, you are going to struggle tomorrow,’ said another.
‘We’ll all struggle tomorrow if we don’t get back to sleep.’
‘Where have you been?’
‘We went drinking.’
‘Susannah – drinking? Well now I’ve seen everything.’
Aisling pulled herself up next to me on the bed. Nora was standing over us, lecturing us in her nightgown. All I could see was her naked feet, toes wriggling, as she was telling us off, saying how selfish and irresponsible we were. Aisling was holding me upright; I couldn’t control my eyes.
Then Aisling said, ‘Oh, Nora, I would not stand there if I were you.’
‘What do you mean?’ she replied.
I threw up on her toes. Nora squealed like a pig and hobbled off crying. I spent the next few hours vomiting into my own chamber pot with Aisling holding my hair back in the pitch black. Whoever had said I would struggle the next day was correct.