For May, the next two months were a flurry of activity. Learning new skills and absorbing new ideas took all her energies. Her experience was a mixture of discoveries, mistakes, humiliations and the occasional hard-won triumph.
A week after their arrival the six new probationers attended their first lecture. May listened with rapt attention to the consultant surgeon’s tales of staphylococci and streptococci; she wrestled with the concepts of asepsis and antisepsis, and slowly assembled the assorted pieces of the jigsaw until they formed the pattern of Sister Simeon’s deft hands as she prepared the dressings trolley and cleansed the patients’ wounds.
The following day May stepped eagerly onto the ward, determined to put her newfound knowledge to the test – and was banished to the sluice and the bedpans. But as she mechanically scrubbed she repeated to herself the words she had learnt: tetanus, erysipelas, cellulitis; and, less euphonious, gangrene – mysteriously both dry and wet. However Staff Nurse rapidly brought her down to earth again by seizing her bedpans, squinting down the handles with a practised eye and instantly rejecting two: ‘Really, Winton, have you no sense of pride in your work?’ May forced her attention back into more mundane channels.
The following week she managed to achieve minor notoriety in the hospital by burning a whole panful of boiled eggs, and was forced to sit at the dining table with cheeks on fire while the story went the rounds of her fellow nurses – ‘How can anyone burn boiled eggs?’ ‘Don’t ask me, ask Winton, she knows how,’ and there were squeals of delighted laughter until Home Sister half-rose ominously from her chair and the merriment subsided into whispered giggles. Yet this embarrassment was less upsetting than the carefully emphatic assurances of the eggs’ owners that they had not really felt like one today, anyway. The next morning, having discovered from Maudie the whereabouts of a reliable dairy, May rushed out in her two hours off-duty and bought replacements, carrying them carefully back together with a lame tale of an anonymous lady donor who just happened to have had a surplus of eggs. But she could see that the men had guessed the truth and were uncomfortable at the idea of her spending her meagre salary on them, so in the end she wondered whether it would have been better to accept their generous understanding and simply swallow her own feelings of guilt. Sister Simeon, who was clearly aware of the existence of the Frears fortune, let May flounder on with her explanations to the patients, and seemed to derive a sardonic amusement from her discomfiture.
Yet there were compensations in the continuous back-breaking round: she had learnt to make a bed so that the undersheet was satin-smooth and there were exactly ten squares of the checked bedspread hanging from the foot – ‘Not, nine, Nurse Winton, not eleven, but ten!’ And she was at last allowed to wash a bedridden patient single-handed. Anxiously muttering to herself a litany composed of: ‘Hot water, bowls, soap, screens, two pieces of flannel, don’t forget to close the windows,’ she had approached the elderly patient with what she hoped was a fair imitation of professional confidence. So intense had been her concentration on doing everything in the right order that the embarrassment of washing a naked male had completely passed her by. When she had finished, the tired, lined face had smiled at her, murmuring, ‘Thanks, Nurse. I feel really freshened up,’ and he had settled back on his pillows and dropped off to sleep. May felt ten feet tall as she almost waltzed back to the sluice with her bowls of dirty water – only to be met with: ‘You must speed up, Nurse Winton, you’ve taken far too long,’ as she passed Sister’s desk. Then Sister Simeon had smiled at her crestfallen face and added, ‘But otherwise you managed very well, and I was pleased to see that you took the trouble to warm the towel as well as the change of clothing.’ May sang tunelessly to herself as she attacked the mackintoshes that morning.
Then the new pros had discovered the little recess in the corridor of the Nurses’ Home fitted out with two gas rings, a kettle and saucepan. Using the sturdy white earthenware cups and saucers which they bought in Chrisp Street market, they made drinks after supper and took them into each other’s rooms and capped each other’s tales of the day’s disasters. May thought Alice Rydal too ready to whine her complaints, but Ellen’s odd mixture of ingenuousness and self-mockery made them all laugh, while they were alternately impressed and shocked by Ada Farrar’s trenchant criticisms of public institutions in general and St Katharine’s Hospital in particular.
As they shared stories of aching backs and sore feet and tired legs May realised that she was lucky; after the first few days she rarely reached the point of exhaustion. Some of their duties were boring and repetitive, but they did not drain her physical strength as seemed to be the case with Alice Rydal, Minnie Emms and tiny Flossy Allen; while Ellen, and even Ada, sometimes came off duty with white faces and dark rings round their eyes. Also, the enforced punctuality and petty restrictions of life in the Nurses’ Home sat more easily on her shoulders; after years of having every move monitored by Lady Clarence it could only be to her advantage that now the attentions of Home Sister and her three acolytes were dispersed among a crowd of probationers. Even her step-mother’s homilies, bitterly resented at the time, could be viewed philosophically as useful preparation for the relentless barrage of criticism delivered by Sisters and Staff Nurses.
One Tuesday evening in late November, May and Ellen discovered to their mutual pleasure that they had both been granted a half-day off the following afternoon; even Ada’s reminder that they would have to be back for an evening lecture failed to damp their anticipation, and they made plans for a rapid exit immediately after dinner.
The next day was dull and rather cold, with a blustery wind which whipped grit into their faces as they came off-duty, but May and Ellen were undaunted – it was their holiday and they were determined to enjoy it. They wasted no time on changing but simply threw on cloaks and bonnets and headed for the front door. Home Sister emerged from her lair nearby, looked them over and barked, ‘Where are your umbrellas, Nurses? The weather is inclement.’
Ellen hesitated but May retorted firmly, ‘It will not rain on our half-day, Sister,’ and took Ellen’s arm to steer her past.
‘Remember you must return by six o’clock for Dr Colson’s lecture.’ Home Sister fired her parting shot as they crossed the threshold.
Ellen sighed. ‘They always get the last word, don’t they?’
May was bracing. ‘Never mind. just think, one day it will be our turn!’
Ellen’s face was doubtful. ‘I’m not sure I can see myself as ever being a Sister, May. I don’t much like the idea of bossing other people around.’
As they raced for the main gate May had to admit to herself that she longed to move up the ladder and be able to tell other people what to do; even being Pro Four would be an improvement on her present lowly position. Obviously Ellen had a much nicer nature than she had.
Once outside they realised they had given no thought as to where they were going to go, but as they skidded to a halt, uncertain, May saw a tram coming, heading westwards. Calling to Ellen to follow she dodged a cursing van driver and in seconds they were both scrambling aboard.
‘Upstairs, May, we’ll see more.’
May hesitated, then seized her skirts and climbed up – after all, Lady Clarence was not around to notice.
‘All the way, please,’ Ellen told the conductor. Then, as they paid their fares, ‘By the way, where do you go?’
‘Terminus is Aldgate – ’Eart of the Empire!’ The man winked and passed on.
‘Oh May, let’s go to the Houses of Parliament – I know they’re not in session, but there’s bound to be someone around. My father’s said so much about this government – and I would love to see if all the Lords really do have cloven hooves and forked tails! – Not your father, of course,’ she added hastily.
‘My father doesn’t sit in the Lords, his is only a courtesy title,’ May said. ‘And Uncle Bertie’s far too lazy to go very often.’
‘Well, never mind, we’ll just stand outside and gawp, like a pair of country cousins – and I’ll send my father a postcard to show we’ve been.’
They jumped off at Aldgate Pump and went in search of further directions. After a confused stream of instructions they decided on a horse bus and stepped onto the platform and clambered up the stairs. After the swift, smooth roar of the electric tram it seemed quite old-fashioned to watch the driver cracking his whip or skilfully checking his horses with a touch on the reins, as they sat high up in the front seat, glad of the strong ribbons on their bonnets in the gusting wind.
A change of buses found them outside Blackfriars Station, where they selected another tram and whirred down the broad, tree-lined sweep of the Victoria Embankment. They were so engrossed in looking about them that they nearly missed their stop, and barely had time to leap off before the tram turned sharp left and clanked across Westminster Bridge.
May pointed out the imposing blocks of St Thomas’ Hospital on the other side of the river. Ellen gazed with interest, then spoke firmly.
‘Well, it looks more impressive than ours, but I’m sure St Katharine’s is better. Now, which House is which? I do wish we could go inside – I suppose you’ve been in, you are lucky, May!’
They circled round the Palace of Westminster, Ellen moving in a series of quick rushes and sudden stops, neck craned, quite impervious to where she was going. May stood still to have a good look at the Westminster Hospital opposite – after all, she had seen the Houses of Parliament before. At the moment she found hospitals far more interesting – it did look very cramped, it must be quite dark inside some of the wards. Just then she heard Ellen’s clear, light voice raised in a flurry of apologies.
‘Oh dear, I am so sorry, it was entirely my fault – do let me brush your hat down for you, it’s only a little mud.’
With a sinking heart May realised that her friend had cannoned into a gentleman alighting from a hansom, and instead of passing on with a slight bow she was actually chattering to him! Ellen really was far too countrified sometimes. May was stepping forward to take charge when she realised that there was something familiar about the slight, well-groomed back in front of her, and as he turned in her direction she recognised the small, neat features and saw that the man politely struggling with Ellen for the control of his headwear was Lord Hindlesham. Good, she might be able to make Ellen’s wish come true after all, providing the latter had done no irreparable damage to his glossy black top hat! May moved forward with hand outstretched.
‘Lord Hindlesham, what a pleasant surprise.’
Lord Hindlesham momentarily released his hold on the hat, which Ellen seized triumphantly and began to dust down with her pocket handkerchief, and stared in amazement at May for a second; then his good manners reasserted themselves and he seized her gloved hand and shook it heartily.
‘Miss Winton – I didn’t recognise you at first in your uniform. So you went ahead with your decision: you really are nursing!’
May blushed. ‘Well, I’m doing the work of a scullerymaid at the moment, though I am occasionally allowed near a patient! But please, do let me introduce my friend, Miss Ellen Carter, who is also a probationer at St Katharine’s – Miss Carter, Lord Hindlesham.’
Ellen’s eyes were a rounded ‘Oh’ as she heard the title, and for a dreadful moment May thought she was going to ask Lord Hindlesham to remove his glossy boots so that she could inspect his feet for cloven hooves, but she restrained herself, smiled prettily and held out her hand.
‘Good afternoon – would you like your hat back? The dent is only a very little one.’
May noticed Lord Hindlesham’s lips twitch, but his voice was quite steady as he replied, ‘It’s of no consequence. Indeed, I’m grateful for the mischance which has brought us all together. And now, please, may I escort you anywhere?’
Ellen looked hopefully at May and the latter replied with decision.
‘Yes, if you would be so kind. Miss Carter would very much like to see inside the House of Lords.’ She could not resist adding, ‘She has made a particular study of the subject.’
Ellen blushed, then leant forward and spoke confidingly to Lord Hindlesham.
‘My father often talks of you all, he thinks your House should be abolished and all peers should be banished utterly from the counsels of government – in the interests of democracy, of course; he has no personal animosity,’ she added reassuringly.
May could only be thankful that it was Lord Hindlesham they had bumped into, rather than Uncle Bertie who, though rarely gracing the Upper Chamber with his presence, would have gone to the guillotine in defence of his right to do so. Nor was the Marquis of Andover noted for his sense of humour, whereas Lord Hindlesham appeared to be amused by Ellen’s wholesale condemnation. He beamed at her, saying, ‘Then, Miss Carter, I insist on showing you round while there is still time, since imminent dissolution is threatened. Perhaps I may even be able to overcome your principles and prevail on you to take tea with me? Come along.’
As Lord Hindlesham led the way in, Ellen turned to May and whispered, ‘What sort of Lord is he?’
May hissed back, ‘An Earl.’
‘Goodness, yet he seems so nice!’
Lord Hindlesham had clearly overheard. He looked back with a smiling face. ‘I shall have to point out a Duke to you, Miss Carter, so you can see that even he has neither horns nor a forked tail!’
May was pleased to see that at this uncanny prescience Ellen went beetroot red and was temporarily silenced.
Their tour completed, Lord Hindlesham took them for the promised tea. Over their cups of fragrant Earl Grey he became more serious, and began to question them more closely about their recent experiences.
‘St Katharine’s is in Poplar, isn’t it? The Labour Member for Woolwich, Mr Crooks, has often spoken in the Lower House of the conditions there. What has struck you particularly, as newcomers to the East End?’
May hesitated. ‘We’ve only been there a couple of months, you know.’
‘Nevertheless, that is two months longer than any of us here.’ His gesture encompassed the small number of his fellow peers who were placidly occupied in chewing their way through buttered crumpets and strawberry jam. ‘What are your first impressions? I don’t suppose you’ve stayed in the hospital all day.’
May and Ellen glanced at each other, then in turn they painted verbal pictures of what they had seen in their off-duty times. May had tended to walk westward: she described the looming walls of the London Dock, overshadowing and cutting off light from all the streets around, in which drunken men lurched from one dingy public house to another; and where she had once peered into an opium den – a dull, dispiriting place, but an opium den nonetheless.
Ellen had not gone so far afield; she had ventured down the narrow streets near the hospital. ‘Some are quite nice, you know, with flowers in window boxes and friendly cats sitting sunning themselves on doorsteps, but others,’ – she shuddered, – ‘the children look so pinched and pale, and they have no coats, or even shoes, sometimes, and their noses run and they have sores on their faces.’ Then she stopped, and her face was serious as she gazed straight at their host.
‘I don’t know whether you are a Liberal or a Tory, Lord Hindlesham, but I am a Socialist, and I don’t think either of you care much for these people.’
There was a silence, and May held her breath.
Lord Hindlesham’s face was as grave as Ellen’s as he looked back at her. But when he spoke his voice was gentle.
‘Believe me, Miss Carter, some of us do care. But the machinery of government is complicated, and there are many conflicting interests to be reconciled.’
Then Ellen said, the country burr in her voice very pronounced, ‘But I don’t suppose your children go hungry to school.’ She pushed her chair back and was on her feet before Lord Hindlesham could rise, and with a muttered, ‘I’m sorry, it’s rather hot in here, I will go and look at the river,’ she slipped through the door and out onto the terrace.
May felt acute embarrassment. Lord Hindlesham was gazing after the retreating figure, his face unreadable. As he slowly resumed his seat, May spoke.
‘I am so sorry, I must apologise for Ellen, she comes from a different background, her father is only a country station-master, she does not always realise…’ May’s voice trailed off as Lord Hindlesham turned and leant towards her.
‘Miss Winton, May, until very recently you have lived amongst a very small group of people, a highly privileged group who think that they are right, and those who differ from them are wrong. Now, since by your own courage and initiative you have broken away, don’t spoil this opportunity by clinging to the same narrow prejudices. Don’t be ashamed of your friend: her views are valid ones, and she has the right to express them openly, whatever company she is in.’
May bowed her head over her empty plate.
Lord Hindlesham’s voice was kind. ‘Dear me, now I have distressed two young ladies. Come along, let’s go and find your friend on the terrace.’
May forced a smile. ‘We had better, before she overbalances and falls into the river in her anxiety not to miss any detail of each passing tugboat.’
As soon as they were outside Ellen came running to meet them, her face alight. ‘Do look, May, you can see the little white caps of the nurses in the windows of St Thomas’. Do you think the men working in the Docks can see us in the same way?’ Then she turned to Lord Hindlesham. ‘First I almost knock you over, then I kidnap your hat, and now I have insulted your political beliefs – and you have been so kind – can you forgive me?’
Lord Hindlesham’s serious mood evaporated in seconds. ‘Political insults are meat and drink to us peers, you know; this is the place for them.’ He smiled at Ellen. ‘The pleasure has been mine, Miss Carter, and in return – yes, there he is, look, that gentleman who’s just come out of the far door – there is a real live Duke for you!’
May recognised the short, fat, red-faced figure of the Duke of Dorset, clutching a cigar almost as fat as himself. Ellen gazed at him intently.
‘Which one is he?’ she whispered to Lord Hindlesham. When he told her she looked again. ‘He’s rather small, isn’t he?’
Lord Hindlesham drew himself up and balanced on the balls of his feet, murmuring, ‘Some of us lords aren’t quite full size, you know,’ then laughed at Ellen’s confusion. ‘Shall I introduce you? I think May has met him before.’
Ellen shook her head. ‘No, I think an Earl is quite enough for one day – my father would never forgive me if I spoke to a Duke as well. Oh, May, the time!’ as Big Ben boomed above them. ‘We’ll be late for the lecture!’
‘Goodness, it took us ages to get here.’ May pulled her cloak around her. ‘I’m so sorry, Lord Hindlesham, we must rush off – you’ve no idea how strict they are – we get black marks if we’re just a minute late for breakfast.’
Lord Hindlesham ushered them swiftly through the House. At the front entrance he said, ‘I’ll ask the man to call a cab to take you back, then you’ll be in good time.’
But as May opened her mouth to give a grateful assent Ellen broke in, ‘Thank you very much, but that would be rather poor-spirited of us, we must learn to find our own way about. I shall ask the policeman.’ And she approached the enormous moustached bobby on duty outside the door.
May and Lord Hindlesham exchanged rueful grins and waited.
Ellen was soon back, her face cheerful. ‘It’s all right, May, we can go on the underground railway, all the way to Aldgate.’
May immediately perked up. ‘Oh, good – I’ve never been on one of those. But won’t we get horribly dirty?’
Ellen shook her head. ‘No, that’s the best of it. He says all the trains on that route are electric now, and it’s nice and clean. Thank you so much, Lord Hindlesham, I have enjoyed our visit.’
Lord Hindlesham insisted on escorting them across the road and into the station and buying their tickets, then there was a subterranean rumble and May jumped for the stairs, closely followed by a panting Ellen.
As they collapsed onto their seats Ellen turned to May. ‘Well, what an exciting afternoon, you do have some interesting friends. Isn’t Lord Hindlesham kind? Do you know his wife as well? Is she as nice as he is?’
‘I know her slightly,’ May replied cautiously. ‘She is very beautiful.’
‘Oh, he isn’t good looking at all, is he? But he’s got a nice smile, just like a friendly monkey.’ Ellen glanced sideways at May. ‘But you haven’t answered my question about her – or have you?’ And May remembered that for all her ingenuousness Ellen could be disconcertingly shrewd at times.
Ellen said now, ‘I’m sorry, he deserves better. Look, May, we’ve come out into the daylight – what a cheat, it’s supposed to be an underground railway!’
May laughed aloud at Ellen’s indignation, and realised that she had not enjoyed herself so much since before Emily’s marriage.