The Nightingale Girls

CHAPTER Four



DORA’S FIRST IMPRESSION of the Home Sister was that she had never seen anyone so fat in her life. Sister Sutton was about five foot tall and almost as wide. She filled the doorway of the nurses’ home, her grey uniform stretched to bursting over a formidable shelf of a bosom. Her head seemed to be connected to her body by a cascade of quivering chins. Even her ankles were fat, spilling over her stout black shoes.

‘You there!’ She waddled towards Dora at surprising speed, trundling as if she were on wheels. Grey wisps of hair escaped from her starched cap. Behind her scampered a yapping terrier.

‘I saw you,’ she accused, pointing a fat finger straight between Dora’s eyes. ‘Canoodling with that porter.’

‘I wasn’t canoodling with anyone!’

‘Don’t lie to me, girl, I saw you with my own eyes. Quiet, Sparky!’ she roared at the dog, who was circling Dora’s legs, his lips drawn back to show yellow teeth. ‘I was watching you from my office. You are a disgrace. I have a good mind to send you straight home and inform Matron of your conduct. This is not what we expect of our student nurses here at the Nightingale.’

Blimey, Dora thought. It’s my first day, I haven’t even set foot in the place and I’m already in trouble.

‘I was only asking him for directions,’ she protested.

‘Do you think I’m a simpleton, girl?’

‘No, but—’

‘And please address me as “Sister” when you speak to me.’

‘No, Sister.’

‘What?’

‘I mean, no, I don’t think you’re a simpleton. Sister.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. I wish I could say the same about you. What is your name?’

‘Dora Doyle, Miss. I mean, Sister.’

‘Are you Irish?’

‘No, Sister.’ Sparky lunged at her ankle. Dora sidestepped his snapping jaws and fought the urge to kick the wretched thing.

‘I’m glad to hear it. Irish girls are always far too much trouble. Man-mad the lot of them.’ She considered Dora for a moment. ‘I hope I’m not going to have any trouble with you?’

‘No, Sister.’

‘You see I don’t, or you will be straight to Matron’s office. I don’t put up with any nonsense from young nurses.’ She suddenly turned on her heel and trundled back towards the nurses’ home. Dora guessed she was supposed to go with her, so she picked up her battered suitcase and followed, being careful to keep a safe distance between herself and the bad-tempered dog.

The gleaming lino floors squeaked under Dora’s feet as she followed Sister Sutton through the warren of corridors, all painted a drab brown. The whole building was eerily silent, and full of gloomy shadows.

The Home Sister led the way up to the top of the house, where the staircase became so narrow she could hardly squeeze her ample body up it. Dora puffed along behind, not daring to stop to draw breath.

As Sister Sutton went, she recited a litany of rules and regulations.

‘Lights out is at ten o’clock sharp, and you are expected to be back in the nurses’ home by then unless you have a late pass. Although why any respectable girl would want to be out after that time I have no idea,’ she said. ‘Laundry day is Monday; in the morning you must strip off your bed and put your sheets and towels in the bags at the end of the corridor. Personal items are to be put in your own laundry bag and left out for collection on Tuesdays and Thursdays. While a probationer, you must not leave the hospital grounds in uniform. And while in uniform you will behave with the decorum that befits the good name of this hospital. Which means no make-up or jewellery, no laughing, no speaking loudly, and strictly no talking to men. Is that understood?’

Dora nodded, but she was beginning to wonder if she would ever remember all the rules of the nurses’ home, let alone take in any medical knowledge.

Sister Sutton stopped so suddenly Dora almost collided with her, and threw open a door to reveal a long attic room with three beds tucked into the eaves. A small dormer window cast a dim patch of wintry light on to the bare polished floorboards.

A nurse sat on the bed at the far end of the room, her stockinged feet up. As Sister Sutton barged in, she shot to her feet so quickly she nearly hit her head on the sloping ceiling.

‘What are you doing here, Tremayne?’ Sister Sutton demanded.

‘Please, Sister. I’m off duty until five.’

‘So why are you skulking about up here?’ Sister Sutton sniffed the air. ‘You weren’t smoking, were you?’

‘No, Sister.’ The girl towered over Sister Sutton, as tall and slender as the Home Sister was short and wide. Her dark hair was coiled in a smooth bun at the nape of her long, elegant neck. Dora tucked a frizzy curl behind her ear and wondered if she would ever get her hair to look that neat.

‘You know I do not allow smoking in the rooms. If you must smoke, do it downstairs in the library or outside like everyone else.’

‘Yes, Sister.’ Sparky jumped up at the girl’s legs, clawing at her black woollen stockings, but she didn’t flinch.

Dora could feel her tension as Sister Sutton inspected the room through narrowed eyes. ‘And what’s this?’ She pointed to the far corner. ‘Why is this bed in such a mess?’

Dora looked at the immaculately made bed with its perfectly turned down sheet and neat corners, and wondered if she was seeing things.

‘Where is Nurse Benedict?’ Sister Sutton asked.

The tall girl cleared her throat. ‘It’s her day off, Sister.’

‘Disgraceful! You nurses get far too much time off.’ Sister Sutton went over to the bed, tore off the bedclothes and, with a great effort, upended the mattress on to the floor. Dora looked at the dark girl, but her gaze remained fixed on the worn rug at her feet.

Sister Sutton stood back, breathing heavily. ‘Tell Benedict if I ever find her bed a mess again, I will send her straight to Matron. Is that clear?’ she said.

‘Yes, Sister.’

‘And you,’ Dora jumped as Sister Sutton swung her attention back to her. ‘Let this be a lesson to you. I will not tolerate slovenliness in nurses. If you can’t keep yourselves neat and tidy, how on earth do you expect to care for patients?’ Once again, Dora felt the full force of her gaze, raking up and down, looking for faults. ‘Well?’

‘I – I don’t know, Sister,’ Dora stammered.

Sister Sutton tutted and shook her head. ‘This is Doyle,’ she said to the other nurse. ‘Please help her settle in.’ She turned back to Dora. ‘Get changed and go down to supper at eight. Your training will begin at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow morning. Tremayne will show you where to go. Come, Sparky.’ She left, slamming the door behind her.

Dora stared at it. ‘Blimey, is she always like that?’

‘Sometimes she’s worse.’ The girl picked her way across the room. ‘Here, help me sort out this bed.’

‘I’m Dora, by the way,’ she introduced herself as they hauled the heavy horse-hair mattress back on to the bed.

‘Helen. But we’re not supposed to use Christian names on the wards, only surnames.’ She pushed the mattress into place and stood back, smoothing down her blue-striped dress. ‘There, that’ll do. Benedict can do the rest when she gets in. You can put your things in that chest of drawers.’ She nodded towards the corner of the room.

‘I’ll unpack later.’ She didn’t want Helen Tremayne to see her few poor belongings. She sounded so posh, Dora was sure she would look down her nose at her.

‘Suit yourself, but you’ll have to have everything folded and put away before supper, or Sister Sutton won’t be pleased. And you’d best get changed, too.’

Dora watched Helen as she rolled down the sleeves of her dress and deftly fastened them at the wrist with neat starched cuffs. She wondered if all nurses were as cool and brisk as her. If they were, Dora didn’t stand a chance.

She warily eyed the neatly folded pile of clothes on the bed – three blue-striped dresses, several white aprons and bibs, collars, cuffs and a laundry bag. On top of it all sat a square of white fabric starched like cardboard, which she had no idea what to do with.

Dora carefully unfolded the dress and shook it out. It was so freshly laundered, she wanted to hold it up to her face and breathe in the clean, starchy smell. But with Helen Tremayne watching, she could only hurry to get it on.

It was easier said than done. The dress was thick and heavy, lined with calico, and reached almost to her ankles. The room was chilly, but by the time she’d put on her dress and black woollen stockings she was sweltering.

‘What do you do when it’s hot?’ she asked.

Helen shrugged. ‘You just put up with it, same as you do everything else.’

Dora struggled to fasten up her cuffs. The studs were small and fiddly, and her hands became clammy with panic.

‘Do you want any help?’ Helen offered.

‘Thanks.’ Dora studied the other girl as she fastened the studs. Even her severe uniform couldn’t disguise her striking beauty. Her face was a smooth, perfect oval, with huge dark eyes framed by thick lashes.

She would be even more beautiful if she smiled, Dora thought.

She wasn’t the easiest person to talk to, either. Dora tried again to make conversation with her. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘I’m in my second year as a student.’

‘What about Benedict?’

‘She’s still a pro – a probationer, I mean. That’s what we call students in their first year. Pass me your collar.’

Dora handed it to her and lifted her chin so she could fasten it. ‘Thanks – ow! That hurts!’

‘Nothing I can do about that, you just have to get used to it. Putting Vaseline on your neck helps if it rubs too much . . . There, that’s done.’ She paused. ‘What’s this around your neck?’

‘It’s a hamsa. A kind of lucky charm. A friend gave it to me.’

‘It won’t be very lucky for you if Sister Sutton catches you wearing it,’ Helen warned. ‘You’d best take it off and keep it somewhere safe.’

Dora removed the chain from around her neck, wrapped it in a handkerchief and placed it in the empty drawer that had been allocated to her. Meanwhile, Helen deftly fashioned the mysterious square of starched fabric into a neat cap.

‘I’ll never get the hang of that!’ Dora sighed as she watched her.

‘Of course you will. Everyone does.’ She placed the cap on Dora’s frizzy hair. ‘Have you brought any pins with you? It doesn’t matter, I’ve got some spares. Although you might have to do something about your hair.’ She frowned. ‘It’s supposed to be hidden at all times, and you’ll never get it all under your cap.’

‘I’ll have to shave my head to do that,’ Dora said mournfully.

Helen Tremayne’s mouth curved slightly, the first hint of a smile Dora had seen. ‘I don’t suppose it will come to that.’ She jabbed a pin into the cap, narrowly missing Dora’s left ear. ‘There, that’s the best I can do, I’m afraid.’

Dora checked her reflection in the scrap of mirror over the chest of drawers, and a bubble of excitement started to rise inside her. She could scarcely believe the transformation. In her smart striped dress, with her collar fastened tightly under her chin, and her hair almost hidden under her cap, she looked almost like a real nurse.

‘I’d best go, I’m due back on the ward in ten minutes.’ Helen’s voice broke into her daydream. She was on the other side of the room, ramming her feet back into her shoes. ‘Make sure you’re in the dining room for eight o’clock.’ She threw her cloak over her shoulders and hurried for the door. ‘It’s block three, this side of the courtyard. Out of the main doors, then turn right. And whatever you do, don’t be late.’