March, 1897
‘SPEND THE AFTERNOON WITH Edie,’ Big Peg advised Hester. ‘You’ll be back at work before you know it, so make the most of your time off.’
‘You make it sound as if I’ve been having a holiday, not convalescing – though I must say I’ve enjoyed being in the bosom of my family again,’ Hester said. ‘Which is just where Christina is at this moment, I reckon!’
She was right. Edie was comfortably seated in her nursing chair, the baby tucked securely inside the bodice of her blouse, with just her tiny face peeping out and that blaze of silky red hair on the crown of her head. The warmth of a mother’s body, the close contact, was still considered the best way to nurture premature babies. The only drawback was their slipperiness due to oiling, rather than washing. ‘All my blouses have grease spots,’ Edie said wryly, ‘Alf says I smell like a fried breakfast, not of carbolic, as I did during my hospital days.’
Hester bent over to give them both a kiss. ‘She’s looking stronger every time I see her, and so are you.’
‘She is able to move much more freely now her binder has been removed. She had that on for six weeks! Though she has a nice flat navel as a result.’
‘Alf is bearing up well it seems.’
‘We don’t see enough of him. He works extra hours when he can, to pay for the wet nurse.’ The corners of Edie’s mouth turned down. She obviously wasn’t happy that Alf had so little time at home.
‘And how’s your poor old tum? Is the wound less tender?’
Edie winced. ‘It’s healing, but still livid: I haven’t let Alf see it yet.’
‘Well, you should, I think. He knows how you suffered, and he did, too, because he thought he might lose you both.’
‘We’ll have a cup of tea when Violet comes to feed the baby, eh?’ Edie changed the subject. ‘When are you returning to the wards?’
‘Next Monday. Light duties at first, but not on my old ward: another nurse took my place there, of course.’
‘Have you seen Van lately?’
‘We keep in touch by letter.’ Hester paused, then confided: ‘I’ve just written to ask him to come to tea on Sunday.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ll get much time on your own. . .’
‘Perhaps it’s just as well,’ Hester said.
Harry borrowed the Joseph Conrad novel from Hester, on the recommendation of his pa. ‘He’s a chap what can make you smell the sea, Harry – it ain’t all plain sailing.’
‘I know that, Pa. But I aim to be a master mariner one day. I ain’t in a rush like I was. Me studies come first.’
‘Oh?’ Fred’s eyes had a roguish twinkle. ‘Has your little dancer anything to do with it, as well?’
‘I ain’t seen her lately, as you know. She went with Arthur to the station to see Polly off for her first week on tour.’
‘I trust Polly will be orl right on her own.’
‘She can look after herself, she always could, Pa. Me – I’m the cautious one.’
‘Well, mind you don’t miss the boat!’ Fred guffawed. Puglet sneezed in protest and turned round on his lap. Fred exclaimed: ‘Watch out, old feller! You’ve torn me newspaper. I was just reading the h’article about gold bein’ found in the Klondyke . . . Canada, that sounds the place to go, don’t it?
‘Harry, we’d better practice a few new tunes, you and me, the Penny Whistlers’ll be in demand during the Jubilee Celebrations in June! We’ll make a bob or two, if not a golden guinea.’
‘If I had a guinea, I know what I’d do with it,’ Harry said wistfully. He thought, I might not be able to join Pa at the whistling, ‘cos if I get a chance to sail away, I know I’ll take it . . .
*
Hester applied a little olive oil too, in her case, to her scalp to deal with the dry, scaly patches, and to add a shine to her bobbed hair, which had grown a couple of inches since her illness. Should she wear the new dress Granny Garter had made her, she wondered? She guessed that Peg had paid for this, knowing that Granny’s time as wardrobe mistress for her friend Lula, was running out. She’d recognized the blue velvet: revamped from Granny’s Sunday best of years ago, which she’d worn with a string of pearls. Oh well, I’ve got the silver chain and locket Ma wore on her wedding day, she thought.
‘I reckon Granny’ll be coming back here to live,’ Peg said.
‘Just as well I’m back at work from tomorrow,’ Hester said. ‘Though I think poor Harry was looking forward to having his room back – he’s too big for the box room now.’
‘Well, we can’t give Arthur notice – he’s one of the family now.’
‘What about Polly? It’s her last week at Birmingham. Where will she go between engagements?’
‘The Brixton house will be kept going with lodgers, Granny reckons. Mira will need to find a job, when the students leave. Poor woman’s been under her aunt’s thumb for far too long. It could be the making of her.’
‘Edie and Alf have got a spare room.’
‘That might suit Polly,’ Peg said, brightening up.
‘I was thinking of Granny Garter.’
‘Now, you know she can’t stand babies, Hester. But if she comes here I shall expect more of her than when she was here before. Did I hear a knock on the door? What time d’you expect Mr Van der Linde?’ Peg took off her apron and threw it at Fred. She missed, and it enveloped poor Puglet. ‘You’d better go see if it’s him, Hester.’
Van presented Hester with a bunch of snowdrops. ‘I asked the cab driver to stop when I spotted a flower seller on a street corner. It’s good to see you looking so well, Hester. Aren’t you going to ask me in?’
‘Oh dear – yes, of course! You look in good health too.’ She led the way down to the basement kitchen. ‘I must put these lovely flowers in water. Then we’ll make a pot of tea and take it upstairs – you’re early, you know, and caught us all on the hop—’
‘Stop babbling,’ he said, smiling, ‘I called a cab instead of coming by bus, as I couldn’t wait any longer to see you. Forget the kettle for five minutes and let me show you how much I’ve missed you . . . I do like your blue dress – is it new?’
‘Granny made it for me – she said I’d charm you in it!’
‘She was right, you certainly do that. How long will it take you to grow your hair I wonder?’
‘About a year, I should think. Why?’
‘Well, that seems to be about the right length of time.’
‘What for?’
‘Before we get married, my darling.’
‘Oh, here you are,’ Big Peg appeared in the doorway, beaming to see them in a close embrace: ‘Shall I leave you to it?’
‘Please do.’ Van kept his arm firmly round Hester’s slim waist.
‘We were about to make the tea,’ Hester, blushing, told Peg.
‘There’s no hurry,’ Peg said. ‘You’ve got better things to do!’
*
Hester, to her surprise and delight, was reunited with a young friend on the Convalescent Ward. She didn’t recognize the three-year old, who had been a tiny infant in her care when she became a fully trained nurse and was on the Children’s Ward, for then he had been dark-haired as the new-born often are. Now, he had pale blond hair, cropped short, for Samuel, too, had been very ill with scarlet fever. Thanks to the nourishing food and care he’d received at the Coram, he appeared to have a good chance of recovering well. He was small for his age, but with an engaging personality.
Her role in this ward was as companion to eight children, to supervise their play and, with the older ones, reading and writing for a couple of hours each morning. There were still temperatures to take, bathing and meals to serve up, but five of these children were almost ready to return home, which was the most satisfying outcome of their time in hospital. The rest were impaired in health to varying degrees by the illness they had suffered. Samuel, Hester was aware, had a heart murmur. This could delay his departure.
Sometimes, Hester glimpsed an anxious parent looking through the glass panels in the doors, but they would put a finger to their lips and shake their heads, for they were not yet allowed contact with their offspring. She wished that Floss had been as fortunate; she regretted that she had been unable to do more for that poor child and her mother.
All the children rested on their beds after their midday meal. The curtains were drawn, and books were put aside. Hester moved quietly up and down the length of the ward from time to time, filling a tumbler with water when requested, or taking a child to the WC.
Samuel was usually awake when she paused by his cot bed. He made up little stories which he murmured aloud: he was an imaginative and intelligent child. Sometimes Hester caught a word or two – she smiled to herself, for he didn’t talk of elves and fairies, but about exotic animals, which Hester told him could be seen in the Regents Park Zoo. This was an attraction he’d never visited, nor had she, but the photographs taken there of zebras, monkeys and elephants in the board books they looked at together, obviously impressed him.
‘What’s it called?’ he asked her, then repeated the name of the animal after her. ‘Why has it got a funny nose – a long tail – all them stripes?’
‘The elephant giving rides to children was called Jumbo,’ she said.
‘Jumbo! That’s a funny name. I like it.’
She wouldn’t tell him that poor Jumbo had met an ignominious end in a collision with a locomotive . . .
One morning when she went on duty, she discovered that Samuel was not in his bed. Sister explained that the small boy had been taken ill in the night with pains in his limbs. ‘The doctor on duty was called. Samuel is under observation in the side ward. Doctor suspects this is rheumatism, the aftermath of scarlet fever. Hopefully, it is only a setback.’
Hester felt suddenly faint, and was forced to sit down on the chair by the empty bed. Sister called for a glass of water. She looked sympathetically at Hester. ‘I know he is a favourite with you, because of your past connection with him—’
‘I should have seen something was wrong!’
‘My dear, none of us expected this. He is uncomplaining, but he may have been in some discomfort. These things happen, you know. Samuel is at this moment receiving treatment; the doctor suggested cold packing.’
Hester was well aware of the procedure for this. The patient was divested of any clothing, the mattress was protected by a mackintosh sheet, and he was placed carefully on a couple of blankets. A doubled-up wet sheet would be placed beneath him, and another sheet placed over him, then the blankets would be tightly folded over him. This cold packing would be in place for up to fifty minutes.
‘I could have done that for him!’ Hester exclaimed. She thought; Oh he must pull through!
‘He is in good hands,’ Sister mildly rebuked her. ‘A word of advice, Nurse. I will repeat something you were told when you first became a probationer here. A nurse must be dedicated to the care of patients but she should not become too attached to them. You are aware of why this must be, of course . . .’
‘Yes, Sister, I am.’
‘Now, if you are feeling better, your other patients need you.’
*
Hester was off-duty from Saturday afternoon until Sunday evening. Van was waiting with a cab to take her to Greenwich to spend the rest of the day with him. She had hurriedly changed into the blue velvet dress because she knew he liked it. ‘Soft to the touch,’ he’d said daringly, when he’d embraced her the first time she wore it.
‘You look solemn today, what’s troubling you?’ he asked.
‘Samuel, the little boy I mentioned, is not too well. He’s suffering from a bout of rheumatism. He’s confined to bed again – just when he seemed to be so much better. I didn’t like leaving him. . . .’
He took her gloved hand in his, squeezed it gently. ‘He’ll be well looked after. You sound more like his mother, than his nurse.’
She pulled her hand from his clasp. ‘He’s an orphan, his mother died when he was born. I can’t help how I feel!’
‘Of course, you can’t,’ he said soothingly. ‘I’m glad to see that you have a strong maternal instinct – which I hope means you will be as anxious as me to start a family in due course.’
Her indignation evaporated immediately. ‘You know I am. It’s just that, well, I wish Samuel was my little boy. Will you promise me something?’
‘If I can,’ he smiled.
‘When he’s out of hospital, could we ask permission to take him out now and then? He’d love to go to the zoo, and so would I.’
‘That sounds like a very good idea,’ he said.
Later, they sat on the fireside rug and Van toasted muffins over the glowing coals in the grate. Hester spread the muffins thickly with butter, then they tucked napkins round their necks and enjoyed the treat, followed by cups of tea, from the pot Van placed on the trivet.
‘Just like a picnic indoors!’ Hester was thoroughly relaxed now.
Later, Van drew the curtains to shut out the wintry scene. ‘It’s officially spring, but not many signs of it yet.’
‘My hair is a whole inch longer – that’s a good sign, isn’t it?’
‘This chair will take two of us – come and sit with me and let me run my fingers through your locks,’ he said softly.
‘You know what that could lead to.’
‘I know. I promise not to get too carried away.’
Some time elapsed before she reluctantly disengaged herself from his embrace. ‘I was about to say – when you distracted me! – how do you feel about arranging the wedding after the Blackwall Tunnel opening in May?’
‘What made you change your mind?’
‘I don’t know.’ she said softly. But she did. She thought, it’s how I felt when I saw little Christina snuggled between Edie’s breasts; it’s loving Samuel and wishing he was mine. It’s knowing that Van is the right man for me, and the joy we will experience if we can have a family of our own . . .
‘Could you stay overnight?’ he asked tentatively.
‘I’d like to, but I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘I know you will understand – I want the first time to be on our wedding night.’