The rising bell jarred May into wakefulness the next morning. She pushed herself heavily out of bed and began slowly to dress. As she did her hair, her reflection in the mirror stared back, strained and heavy-eyed. She went over the scene with Harry Cussons again in her mind, and now that her anger had evaporated she felt wretchedly depressed. Had he really meant to be so careless of her reputation? And, if he had, was not the fault at least partly hers? – Lady Clarence would certainly say so. After this debacle, would she ever see him again? Did she want to? The unanswered questions chased round her brain until there was a brisk tattoo on the door, and Ada’s voice said, ‘May, you’ll be late – I can’t wait for you.’
May forced herself into a burst of feverish activity and rushed out, bed left unstripped, down the endless stairs to the dining room.
When Sister Simeon arrived, after the morning routine of breakfast dishes and bed-making had been completed, she called May to her table. May waited, hands clasped behind her back, to be told her latest faults.
‘Don’t look so chastened, Nurse Winton, I am not going to chide you – though I am not completely certain you are paying adequate attention to my prize aspidistra. Now, as soon as Christmas is over you will be moved from this ward, probably to a medical one, so I think that before you go you should take sole charge of a patient’s daily dressings.’ May’s head jerked up. ‘The appendectomy whom you took down to the theatre yesterday – Mr Tyrrell – his case was without complications, and he looks quite well this morning, so you shall do all his dressings yourself.’
May’s depression began to lift. She knew this was a sign that Sister Simeon was satisfied with her work, and she felt a stirring of pride.
The pleasant faced, blue-eyed young man in the bed looked very different from the shivering creature of the day before. As soon as May approached with the dressing trolley he smiled broadly at her.
‘Feelin’ a bit more meself, today, Nurse. Cor, I thought I were a gonner yesterday, keep throwin’ up like that – don’t know ’ow you nurses stand this job, straight I don’t.’
‘Oh, it’s all in a day’s work, Mr Tyrrell. Now, I’m just going to change your dressing. It will feel a little sore, but I’ll try not to hurt you too much.’ May kept her voice firm and level, and hoped that her nervousness was not showing in her face. It seemed strange to be acting without Sister or Staff Nurse standing by to supervise. But as soon as she began unwinding the binder her confidence returned. As Sister had said, the dressing was uncomplicated, and apart from the occasional gasp or flinch Mr Tyrrell chatted gamely on, telling May about his wife and small son, and how they were hoping for a daughter in the New Year – ‘As pretty as ’er mother, she’ll be, that’s what I tells my Betty.’ As he talked May recalled Sister Tutor’s words: ‘Remember, Nurses, that worrying about his family will often impede a patient’s recovery. The Lady Almoner has access to some limited charitable help, a tactful enquiry may sometimes be in order.’
Now May said, her voice level, ‘It must be difficult for your wife at the moment, without you.
‘Cried ’er eyes out when the old Doc says I ’ad to come in ’ere,’ Mr Tyrrell replied with simple pride. ‘But I told ’er not to be so silly. They carves ’em up by the ’undreds in St Katharine’s, I says. You just cut along the Friendly Society and claim me sick benefit and ’ave a rest while I’m out the way. At least I’ll not be dragging ’orse muck into the ’ouse every day for you to clean up, I says. Anyway, me old Mum lives just round the corner, ’er’ll keep an eye on Betty for me. Thursday visiting, ennit, Nurse?’
‘That’s right, your wife can come tomorrow. So you work with horses, do you, Mr Tyrrell?’
‘Allus ’ave done, since I were a nipper. Us’ter go round and muck ’em out in the evenings for a few ’apence, so Mr Jones – ’e’s the foreman at the Brewery – ’e offered me a job, soon as I left school. I likes ’osses. You treat ’em right and they’ll behave back – mind, you get the odd bad ’un, just like ’umans. One we’ve got, Danny, ’e’s called, a mean brute ’e is. Didn’t get out of ’is way fast enough, and ’e didn’t ’arf land me one, broke the skin of me leg, it did, you can see the bruise. I swore, I can tell you, then the very next day I gets this ’orful pain and I’m in ’ere – wouldn’t put it past the b—, oops, sorry, Nurse, the brute, to ’ave give me appendywhatsit as well!’
May laughed. ‘Well, if he did, it’ll be the first recorded case. Is that quite comfortable now?’ She fastened the last safety-pin.
‘Lovely, Nurse – ta, ducks.’
Glowing with pride May pushed her trolley back down the ward.
Mr Tyrrell’s wound was healing well, and May found him a very easy patient to nurse: anxious to do what he could to help himself, and always bright and cheerful. Even when May, in her rush to give half a dozen enemas at speed, failed to completely fill the bulb of the Higginson’s syringe with soapy water and so squeezed a little air into his rectum, he made light of the pain, merely grunting, ‘Way you girls ’ave to work a little ’iccup’s not to be wondered at, think nothin’ of it, ducks.’
When ‘My Betty’ arrived on Thursday May was introduced as, ‘Me Special Nurse, wot keeps me under control’ with a wink in May’s direction. Mrs Tyrrell looked very young. She moved slowly with the ungainly gait of the heavily pregnant, and her smile was shy as she took May’s proffered hand and murmured a word of thanks. But as she turned back to her husband her thin face lit up and she looked suddenly beautiful as she took his hand and gently stroked it, gazing at him with such open adoration that May felt quite bereft, and Harry Cussons’ face, never far from her mind recently, swam sharply into focus before her. What had she lost by her childish and impetuous behaviour?
‘Winton, what on earth do you think you’re doing? Get out of my way and into the kitchen – you haven’t even started cutting the bread and butter yet!’ Staff Nurse’s voice was sharp, and her face harassed, so May, with a ‘Sorry, Staff,’ moved smartly in the direction of the corridor. Useless day-dreaming, she scolded herself, was a luxury far beyond the reach of a lowly pro, not that Sister seemed to spend much time on it either, as her voice rang out, ‘Nurse Winton, your cap!’ and in a carrying aside: ‘Some young women have no pride in their appearance!’ May thought that she must say, ‘Sorry, Sister,’ in her sleep at night, she said it so often in the daytime. She was reaching for the bread knife even as she tumbled through the kitchen door.
‘’Ere, Nurse, mind yer plates of meat’ – and an indignant Maudie reared up from her kneeler brandishing her scrubbing brush.
‘Sorry, Maudie.’ May positioned her knife and cut the first slice crooked, and heard herself mutter, ‘Sorry, loaf.’ She began to laugh.
Maudie looked round. ‘What’s tickled yer fancy, duck? Come into a fortune, ’ave you?’ She cackled at her own joke. ‘Well, if you ’as, Hi wouldn’t spend another minnit in this dump, ’swelp me I wouldn’t.’
May said, ‘Well, I suppose I might as well stay for tea, since it’s currant buns today,’ and sawed furiously away at the loaf. ‘I’m all behind, Maudie, will you put the butter to warm for me, there’s a dear.’
‘I suppose in the h’absence of a fortune we’ll ’ave to ’ang together.’ Maudie shuffled over to the stove. ‘But don’t you leave it to melt, like you did yesterdiy.’
On Sunday afternoon Betty Tyrrell visited again. May saw her coming down the ward after Sister had rung the bell to signal the end of visiting time. There had been a serious accident in the Docks the previous day; extra beds had been set up in the centre of the ward and all the nurses were frantically busy, but something about Betty Tyrrell’s expression made May pause and smile. The girl hesitated then waddled slowly up to her.
‘Nurse,’ her voice was shy. ‘Bob, seems – seems a bit low today.’ She flushed and stopped a moment, disturbed at her own temerity, yet determined to ask. ‘Is he all right?’
May said, ‘His operation has been a complete success, Mrs Tyrrell. His wound is healing nicely. I expect he’s missing you, and his son.’
The girl looked slightly relieved, yet it was clear she was still worried. ‘’Is face looked a bit funny, Nurse, and ’e didn’t say much – that’s not like ’im.’
May spoke reassuringly, ‘I’ll ask him how he feels this evening, and if there’s any doubt Sister will send for the Doctor.’
‘Thank you, Nurse.’ Then she burst out, ‘It’s a long time till Thursday.’ She turned her face away and swayed off down the corridor.
When May went to collect the tea things she noticed that Bob Tyrrell had only drunk half a cup, and barely touched his bread and butter.
‘This tea is cold. Would you like a fresh cup, Mr Tyrrell? Perhaps you could try a little more bread?’
‘No thanks, Nurse, ta all the same. It seems to be an effort to get me mouth open to chew proper like.’
On pretence of adjusting the bedclothes May glanced at his temperature chart. It did show a slight rise – but surely she would have noticed if the wound had become infected? If only she knew more: Betty Tyrrell was right, he wasn’t himself, but what did it mean? She made up her mind; she would have to risk a rebuff. She marched down the ward to lay her story before Sister Simeon.
Her evidence seemed very feeble as she related it, and she waited to be sent about her business with a flea in her car, but Sister was silent for a moment, then said, ‘I’ll speak to Dr Barnes when he does his round this evening. You may go now, Nurse.’ Relieved, May escaped to her washing up.
Just after seven she was summoned to Sister’s room. Dr Barnes looked impatient, Sister Simeon determined.
‘Nurse Winton,’ she began, ‘Do you happen to know the nature of Mr Tyrrell’s employment?’
May was surprised. ‘He’s some sort of groom, Sister. He works at the Brewery, with the horses.’
Dr Barnes broke in impatiently. ‘Really, Sister, I am extremely busy…’
Sister Simeon silenced him with an upraised hand. ‘When you have washed him, Nurse, did you notice any injury – a cut or abrasion? Sustained before he entered St Katharine’s?’
May was becoming more and more bewildered. ‘Well, Sister, he did tell me he had been kicked by a horse, just before he went down with appendicitis. It did break the skin on his shin.’
Sister Simeon expelled her breath sharply. Her lips tightened.
Dr Barnes broke in again. ‘Sister, I’m sure this is all very interesting, but I really must…’
‘I suggest you go and consult your copy of Fenwick on the causes and symptoms of tetanus, Dr Barnes; then come back and examine my patient again.’
Dr Barnes was angry. ‘Diagnosis is the province of the medical staff, Sister Simeon.’
Sister Simeon’s voice was icy. ‘Certainly, Dr Barnes; and the sooner you diagnose the better. Tetanus is highly infectious.’
Muttering imprecations under his breath the young man flounced out. Sister Simeon’s lips appeared to be forming the words, ‘Bumptious young pipsqueak,’ but May could hardly believe she had read them aright. As soon as the door closed she risked a question. ‘Sister, what is tetanus? I’ve heard the name before, but I don’t really know…’
Sister looked tired. ‘It’s lockjaw, Nurse. We will leave it at that for the present. I may be wrong, I hope I am – say nothing to the patient, of course.’ She rapped out these last words. ‘You may go now.’
Dr Barnes came back with his immediate superior, and the two white-coated men prodded and poked Bob Tyrrell and listened to his chest, but May went off duty no wiser.
Next morning Sister was already on the ward when the day nurses arrived. After the report she kept May back, called her into her sitting room and closed the door.
Sister’s voice was grave. ‘Dr Anderson confirmed Dr Barnes’ diagnosis.’ May blinked, but Sister Simeon continued smoothly. ‘I am afraid Mr Tyrrell has contracted tetanus. He will need constant attendance from now on, and as you have already been dealing with his daily dressings I have decided that you shall nurse him alone. It will be safer for the other patients – this is a surgical ward, so however careful we are, there is always a risk of infecting them. Hold your hands out.’ Startled, May did as she was told. ‘Good, no sign of any broken skin. You must tell me immediately if you damage your hands in any way. This is not a task I would normally give to a probationer of only three months’ experience, but we are exceptionally busy at the moment, and the hospital is always under-staffed, so Matron has agreed. The patient is used to you, and you are a level-headed girl.’
Before she could continue May burst out, ‘But Sister, suppose I do something wrong – and he dies!’
Sister Simeon paused, then said steadily, ‘Nurse Winton, he is going to die anyway, whatever you do.’
May said, ‘No, no he can’t, he’s such a nice man, his wife…’ her voice trailed away in the face of Sister Simeon’s implacable gaze. ‘Is there no hope?’ She spoke in a small voice.
Sister Simeon’s tone was brisk, but not unsympathetic. ‘Very little, I’m afraid, Nurse.’ – Then why tell me now, May thought rebelliously, but Sister Simeon, seeming to read her mind, went on, ‘It’s better that you face up to this at once, otherwise you might be tempted to blame yourself later, and no good nurse allows herself to indulge in useless self-reproach.’ – But I’m not a good nurse, May’s mind screamed silently, only a raw probationer, a stupid girl who came because she was bored, what have I done? Yet another part of her brain stayed calm, and accepted the harsh truth of Sister’s words, though almost crushed under the weight of her knowledge.
Sister Simeon reached back to a bookshelf behind her chair, and took out a small volume. After finding the page she handed it to May.
‘Stay in here and read this carefully. I will come back in fifteen minutes to see if you have any questions. You may sit down.’
It felt very odd to be sitting alone in Sister’s room during the morning rush. She handled the book gingerly, as though it might explode, then, bracing herself, began to read the section on nursing patients with tetanus.
By the time Sister returned fifteen minutes later she knew what she was supposed to do, but quailed at the thought of having to do it. Sister Simeon questioned her closely, seemed satisfied with her answers, and added further instructions of her own. She told May that she would be nursing Bob Tyrrell in the small linen room, which could be emptied and used as a side ward when the need arose. They went in; Maudie had already lit the fire, which was burning brightly in the small grate, and Sister stood over May while she practised a silent manipulation of tongs and poker.
‘Remember, Nurse Winton, any noise at all, even a movement of air, like a draught, is liable to bring on a convulsion in a tetanus patient. Now go to the door; open and shut it until you can do it silently.’ When Sister was satisfied on this point she made a final check of the room, then said, ‘Don’t forget, Nurse, you are not to leave him under any circumstances. You must always wait for a relief.’ May nodded, then suddenly remembering Betty Tyrrell’s loving face: ‘Sister, his wife, she’ll want to be with him – she’s expecting a child soon.’
Sister asked, ‘Do you think she can be relied on to stay calm and quiet?’
May thought wildly, can I be relied on to do that? But after a moment’s consideration she said, ‘I think so, Sister.’
‘Very well, I will send a message and arrange for her to visit today.’
It was at this point that May finally accepted what was going to happen to lively, friendly, cheerful Bob Tyrrell. Today was Monday; visitors on Monday could have only one meaning.