1894
THE HOSPITAL HAD GREATLY expanded over the past three years, during which a new east wing with three floors of wards was added, with beds for both women and children. Outpatients remained in the basement area, while the old building was adapted to accommodate the nurses. Matron was in loco parentis.
Hester’s friend Edie was glad to escape the overcrowding at home to live in the nurses quarters. Hester was happy she and Edie were still together, but she knew her family missed her, as she did them. How would they react when Polly flew the nest, which, she suspected, was likely to be soon? However, she thought that young Harry deserved a proper room of his own, now he was also sixteen and a working lad. Granny Garter could then take over the box room for her sewing. She had quite a business going now and made no secret of the fact that her modest earnings were to be invested in Polly’s future career. For the moment, Polly had to bide her time in the laundry, like her sister before her. Harry, thanks to Fred’s connection with the docks, had a clerical post in the Dock Office.
‘You might get writer’s cramp, but you ain’t likely to lose a leg,’ Fred said bluntly.
Hester, now her probationary period was complete, was the proud possessor of the Hospital’s Certificate of Training, and officially entitled to be called ‘Nurse’. She wore a new cap, with ribbons at the back. She had just been assigned to the children’s ward. Sister had talked at length to her young nurses and been convinced that Hester possessed the right qualities to become a good children’s nurse; she was patient, gentle and very willing to learn.
‘You brought up your younger brother and sister, and helped to nurse them, no doubt, through sickness,’ Sister said. ‘However, I believe that they were always well-nourished and in normal health thanks to the care of a good family. Some of the children you will come into contact with are so ill, they have little chance of survival. You will often experience heartache but must always reassure your small patients and be cheerful. Each child is precious and deserves loving. The high mortality of the very young in our country is something that concerns us greatly. Those raised in poverty, with inadequate nutrition, are prone to rickets; limbs are wasted and deformed; disease is inevitable. Will you take on this challenge?’
‘I will,’ Hester said fervently.
*
Hester had been awoken as usual by the bell which rang every morning at six o’clock. With the other nurses she had a light breakfast half an hour later, to keep her going until a second, more substantial breakfast was provided much later after the early-morning chores. The night and day staff merged at seven o’clock and she would be on duty until nine that night. The longest break was two hours at lunchtime. It would be a further hour before the night owls went off duty.
Hester sat near the fire, with the sick baby on her lap. Little Samuel had been slow to thrive following his premature birth, which had caused in a haemorrhage for his immature mother, who arrived at the hospital too late to be saved. Samuel remained in the care of the hospital and despite the odds, survived. Although now almost six weeks old, the tiny boy was too frail to be bathed in a tub: Hester cradled him in a warm towel while she cleaned him all over with a soft flannel dipped in a bowl of warm water. It was vital that the procedure was quick, but thorough, so that the baby didn’t become chilled. Fortunately, he had no splints on his legs, as so many children did, but he was too passive, she thought compassionately. There was no resistance to her ministrations, no screwing up of the eyes and a mewling cry as with recovering infants.
She dried him with another soft towel and dusted the little bottom with soothing zinc powder, before pinning on a fresh napkin. A woollen vest was pulled carefully over his head and his arms guided gently through the holes. A nightgown completed the dressing process with cotton mitts to prevent the baby from scratching his face.
Hester had cared for Samuel since he came into the general children’s ward. Until he was a month old and strong enough to be moved from the special nursery he had been cleansed with olive oil and kept warm with soft cotton wool padding. He’d been fed through a dropper. Even now he had not reached the average birth weight for normal baby boys, of seven and a half pounds. The day would come she knew, when she would be parted from Samuel, when he was fit enough to be taken to the Coram, as the orphanage was known affectionately after its founder, and Hester knew she would miss him. The hospital would ensure that he was vaccinated against smallpox. They were at last winning the battle against this deadly disease.
Another nurse removed the damp towels and the bowl of water, then brought the sterilized feeding bottle, one of two provided for each baby. The boiled, cooled cows’ milk had been carefully measured then diluted with barley water. Hester remained by the fire, with the baby held in a semi-upright position against her shoulder as she had been taught. Samuel was fed two-hourly over the twenty-four hours.
Hester was only half aware of the rain beating against the windows of the nursery. Officially it was spring, but this was a room kept always at an even temperature. ‘Fresh air and light are as vital as food to enable young children to grow,’ Sister quoted this maxim most days. When the bottle was drained, Hester removed the teat from the baby’s mouth and dabbed the little trails of milk trickling down his chin. Then she rubbed his back in a circular motion to bring up a satisfactory belch of wind. ‘Well done,’ she beamed.
When Samuel was tucked into his crib, she watched for a few moments the pulsing of the fontanelle in his scalp as he resumed his sleep, before she went to help with the stripping of the beds, to spread clean draw sheets, then to bath the next patient. Many sick children were incontinent but the nurses were instructed that no young patient was to be reproached in this respect.
Another small boy, but this one was three years of age and could be a handful. However, this was a positive sign and the nurses were glad to see it. They’d learned to ignore the odd expletive from the child – it was not his fault, just what he’d learned at home, as Sister reminded them. His legs were in splints which must be kept dry. Dampness encouraged lice: the nurses were ever vigilant.
All this before a proper breakfast, Hester thought ruefully. And my tummy is rumbling . . . Hope I’m in the first sitting.
*
Hester and Edie were fortunate to have the same afternoon off and the two friends decided to go down the market.
‘At least I won’t come across my sister turning cartwheels in the rain,’ Hester said, as they hurried along the wet street under a shared umbrella.
Poor Polly, she’s not cut out to be in the laundry, Hester thought. My bright and lively sister needs the spotlight!
The stalls were shielded by their canopies, but the Turneros and their ice-cream had obviously decided to stay at home. However, there was still a fair number of shoppers and the girls were poked in the back with a couple of umbrellas by women not looking where they were going.
They were hailed by a familiar voice: ‘Fancy some cockles? Ready to eat now.’ Bobby feigned surprise, when they lowered the umbrella. ‘Why, it’s my favourite nurse! Want to see my whitlow, Hester?’
‘I hope you’ve got it covered up, touching the fish,’ she said primly, then she smiled. ‘Nice to see you, Bobby. It’s been a year or two, eh? I’ll have a plate of cockles please, how about you, Edie?’
‘Well . . .’ Edie was embarrassed by Bobby’s bold stare.
‘Lin,’ Bobby said to a small figure in the background. ‘Serve my friends, will yer. No charge.’ The young Chinese woman came shyly forward. ‘Allow me to introduce my wife.’ Bobby, although short himself, was taller than this solemn faced girl wearing an apron the strings of which went twice round her slender waist, below which Hester’s trained eye observed a barely perceptible swelling. ‘This is Lin – don’t worry, she can understand what you say, being born here. But she ain’t one for chat, she leaves that to me.’
‘When – did you get married?’ Hester asked faintly. Big Peg hadn’t passed on this snippet of gossip, as she usually would.
‘Three weeks ago – guess what,’ Bobby added proudly, ‘We didn’t waste no time, we’re having a baby!’
Hester didn’t say, ‘I can see that,’ but, ‘Oh, that’s good news!’
Lin handed them two of the small dishes and spoons.
‘Anything else you fancy? A nice dressed crab to take home? Some plump herrings?’
‘A crab would be nice, Bobby – a treat for the family. Want me to look at your finger, while you’re not busy?’ The nurses always carried a few items of first aid, like a roll of bandage – Bobby’s digit was protected by a leather finger stall, but Hester wondered what it concealed.
‘Want me ter pay?’ he joked, but, grimacing from the pain, he revealed a swollen fingertip. ‘It burst this morning – what a relief. Lin made me a poultice with pipe clay. It was a splinter what caused it.’
‘It usually is . . . Here, take this new bandage, Lin, but bathe the finger and keep it covered until it has healed.’
‘Thank you, Miss,’ Lin said. ‘I know what to do. Bobby’s grandma tells me.’ She appeared resigned rather than resentful.
‘My name is Hester, and my friend is Edie – Bobby didn’t introduce us properly! When is your baby due?’
‘Sooner than Bobby thinks,’ Lin smiled. ‘Good to meet you.’
‘The cockles were delicious. Thank you,’ Hester said, as they were about to move on, after paying for the crab.
‘Thank you,’ Edie echoed.
When they were out of earshot Hester mused; ‘Bobby, who’d have pictured him with a wife – and a baby on the way?’
‘Seems to be what happens to most of us, Hester – but not me, I think. What about you? Alf still has hopes.’ Edie sounded wistful.
Hester squeezed her arm. ‘Perhaps he’ll find the right girl one day, but I’m afraid it won’t be me.’
It had stopped raining, and a watery sun was struggling through the clouds. Hester shook the umbrella and fastened the strap. ‘I spotted some gooseberries on the coster’s barrow – come on!’
*
After the girls parted company, each to her own home, Hester joined Fred for the afternoon. He was obviously pleased to have some company, apart from Puglet. Granny’s sewing machine was being turned at a rate of knots, and the living room was awash with her paraphernalia. She paused to greet Hester: ‘I forgot it was your afternoon off. You can get the evening meal under way, can’t you?’
‘I bought a crab –’
‘We’ll have that for our tea – it won’t stretch to six – didn’t you think o’ that?’
‘Can’t say I did,’ Hester returned, but she knew it wasn’t worth arguing with Granny Garter – once a tartar, always a tartar.
‘Come on,’ Fred said in her ear, ‘Let’s go in the kitchen. I can get down them steps now on me crutches, though I ain’t tried to get upstairs. I’ve taken over the cooking lately, to save Peg and Polly from setting to, after a hard day’s work.’
‘But Pa, you never cooked so much as a sausage before—’
‘I got all day, as yer Granny tells me, and nothin’ else to do.’
‘Stew,’ Granny said to their retreating backs. ‘Any fool can make stew. Even Fred.’