‘Patience?’ Jeremiah spoke over his wife.
‘I know what I’m doing, Father. They were very explicit about all that at the interview. A full day’s duty is ten and a half hours, more on occasion when emergencies dictate. On top of that we have to fit study in, and be prepared to work night duty one week in three. The wages are small, I agree, but to some extent I’m not doing it for the money although of course I need to earn enough to live.’
There was a snort from Mary which Patience, like her father, ignored.
‘It was explained that a number of girls leave in the first twelve months, and of those who make it through to the close of the period of training, they must receive the approbation of the Matron as to their general conduct and efficiency. The Matron reports this to the physicians and surgeons, and the certificate is graded accordingly. From what has been explained to us, I understand this can be “fairly satisfactory” or “satisfactory” or “highly satisfactory”, which can make a difference to one’s future prospects. But I won’t leave in the first little while and neither will I be fairly satisfactory or satisfactory. I promise you that.’
Jeremiah surveyed the daughter he had never particularly liked or understood until the last twelve months when she had amazed him by sticking resolutely to the voluntary work she had undertaken. He knew the Chief Physician at the Eye Infirmary – they were both members of the Gentlemen’s Club – and the man had taken the trouble to seek him out on more than one occasion with glowing reports about Patience. He had once thought Patience to be the image of her mother in character as well as appearance. He had been wrong. At the bottom of him he didn’t like the thought of a daughter of his joining what he considered to be a lowly profession more suited to the working class, but he sensed that if he said that now, he would lose her for good.
He smiled at her. ‘I look forward to seeing the “highly satisfactory” in three years’ time, my dear.’
He saw her blink and knew he had surprised her, but then Mary let fly with a tirade worthy of a fishwife, and as Patience slipped out of the room he took the full force of his wife’s fury. Not for the first time – and he doubted it would be the last.
It was twenty minutes later when Patience left the house, her mother’s last words, ‘From this moment in time I have no daughter,’ ringing in her ears. But it was her father who carried her trunk to the cab waiting on the drive – the horse munching on a carrot the driver had given it – who softened the leave-taking.
‘I would like to say your mother will come round in time, but we both know that’s not true.’ Jeremiah helped Patience up into the carriage and when she was seated, pressed some pound notes into her hand. As she made to protest, he closed her fingers over the money. ‘Please, it will smooth the way,’ he said softly, much as she had said to Sophy eighteen months before. ‘And I would like to see you sometimes on your half-day, if you agree? We could perhaps take tea together or a stroll in the park if the weather’s clement.’
‘I would like that, Father.’ Patience hadn’t expected to feel anything but relief as the driver clicked to the horse and they began to move down the drive, but as she leaned out of the window to wave to her father, she felt a moment’s sharp pain in her heart at the sight of him standing alone outside the vicarage. He looked small and lost and suddenly older, much older than his years. And then the horse turned into the lane and the high hedge hid her father and the house from sight, and she settled back in her seat, excitement filling her once more.
She had done it, she had escaped the soul-destroying boredom which would have been her lot if she had stayed, and she didn’t mind how hard she worked or what she did from now on, but one day she was going to be a fully qualified nurse. All things were possible, if you only believed.
The next few days were bewildering, frightening, demoralising and exhausting. Patience discovered her father had been right when he had intimated that a Probationary Nurse at the Sunderland Infirmary was treated quite differently to a volunteer at the Eye Infirmary. But every time she wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew, she reread Sophy’s letter, telling herself it had been no coincidence that it had arrived on the very day she had left the vicarage for good. Sophy had taken the bull by the horns and made a new life for herself, and she could do it too. And however difficult it was, Patience knew this was the right path.