A Gift for the District Nurses

It was Fiona’s turn to sigh. ‘I hate to deprive a nurse who takes such joy in her work of her chance to practise.’ She twirled her pen around on the completed form. ‘But you’re right, of course. She may continue as long as she’s able. But for her own sake, at the first sign of trouble, we must step in.’

Lily had debated whether to keep her elegant maroon coat on, or if it would be best to change into her uniform cloak. She knew she would make a more attractive impression in the wool coat, as its fabric swung from her waist as she walked. She’d opted to wear it as she descended from the train when it finally pulled in to its destination, and noticed the appreciative glances as she made her way along the crowded platform to the concourse. Then she had second thoughts. What sort of impression did she want to make on her new colleagues and superiors?

Swiftly ducking into the waiting room, she opened her case and drew out the navy cloak, changing into it and carefully folding her precious coat on top of her packed clothes. It pained her to crease it, but perhaps she could steam it over the bath in her new accommodation. What sort of bathrooms would the place have? She hadn’t been told. Would they be expected to keep to the government limit of a measly few inches of bathwater? She hoped not but suspected that they would.

It took two buses to cross London, which made her slightly nervous; she had been lucky to visit the capital just before she started her training but she didn’t know it well at all. It was already close to dark when she stepped off the second bus, the conductor kindly telling her where the right stop was. ‘Now you just cross this main road and head down there,’ he said, pointing to a street of tall terraced houses, dimly visible against the last of the daylight. ‘Don’t hang about, mind. You don’t want to be caught out on unfamiliar streets in the blackout.’ He helpfully lifted her case to the platform at the back.

‘Thank you, I won’t,’ Lily assured him with a smile, knowing all too well from experience in Liverpool how easy it was to have an accident in the absence of street lighting.

There was just enough receding twilight to guide her along the road, and then to illuminate a street sign, clearly made crooked by bomb damage: Victory Walk. Lily breathed a sigh of relief. Despite all her brave talk, she had been dreading finding her way here. The end of a very long journey was in sight. All she had to do now was find the right building, before it was completely dark. Where had she put her torch? Nowhere easily to hand, she realised.

Her task was made easier when she noticed in the gloom a figure at the far end of the road, wearing an identical cloak to her own. Another nurse. That must be the place, and not a moment too soon, because there really was very little light left. She hurried to the end of the pavement, and the other nurse swung around in alarm at the sound of footsteps.

‘It’s all right,’ Lily called out hurriedly, swinging her suitcase in one hand, her nurse’s Gladstone bag in the other. She was keen to set them down after the long day of hauling them around. ‘I’m looking for the nurses’ home. Is this the right place?’

She could scarcely see the other woman’s face, but the voice that replied was tinged with relief. ‘Yes. Yes, I think so. I haven’t been here before. I’m new.’

Lily recognised the accent as being from London, so perhaps this other nurse came from a different district. ‘So am I,’ she said. ‘I’m joining the Queen’s Nurses here.’

‘Oh. Yes, me too.’ The young woman seemed anxious, so Lily took control.

‘We’d better go in, then. I’m Lily, by the way.’ She strode up the short path to the front door of what looked to be a double-fronted house, taller than its neighbour, at the end of the terrace.

‘Ruby,’ said the other nurse, following on her heels, and dragging her case along behind her.

Before they could even knock, the door swung open. ‘Come inside, come inside!’ The light from the hall silhouetted a small figure, whose instruction came in an accent that was distinctly Scottish. ‘Hurry now, or the ARP warden will have conniptions. We’ve been waiting for you and we’re very glad you’re here.’ She ushered them into the hall and swiftly shut the door, shiny in its glossy navy paint, behind them. ‘There now! You’ve arrived safely, and we’ve made sure it’s good and warm for you. Leave your bags right here and come along to our canteen-cum-common room – it’s just down these steps at the back. Now along the way, take note that this is our refuge room. We don’t have a bomb shelter as such but we’ve all survived the Blitz just fine in here. I don’t want to alarm you unduly, but you should know that this is where you’ll need to go if the siren sounds.’

Lily did as she was bid, unable to get a word in edgeways with the small woman in full swing. She did her best to take in her surroundings: high ceilings in the corridor, several doors, a telephone; every wooden surface highly polished and a distinct tang of beeswax in the air. Clearly standards were not allowed to slip around here, war or no war.

‘Take a seat, take a seat.’ The woman indicated a well-worn sofa, with patchwork cushions against its padded arms. She drew a chair across for herself, waving at a small, dark-haired young woman across the room as she did so. ‘Edith, we have our new recruits at last! Could I trouble you to put the kettle on? They’ll be in need of something to warm them after their travels, I should think.’ She turned back to Lily and Ruby. ‘I’m Fiona, Fiona Dewar.’

Lily tried to hide her shock as she realised this was the superintendent who had written to her confirming her position. She had never come across any nurse in authority who didn’t stand on ceremony and insist on her full title. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she managed. ‘I’m Lily Chandler.’

Fiona beamed, and turned to the other newcomer, clearly expecting a similar response.

Ruby swallowed with obvious nerves before stuttering, ‘I’m Ruby Butler.’ She blushed.

‘Excellent! Good to see you’ve made it safe and sound. Now don’t go getting the idea that you’ll be waited on hand and foot, but I can see your kind colleague Nurse Banham has made you a hot drink. Here she comes. Three cups – you’ll be joining us then, Edith?’

Edith set down the tray with its jug of steaming, sweet-smelling cocoa and three cups, clinking on their saucers. ‘No, no. This is for you.’

Lily wondered at Fiona’s raised eyebrow as she inclined her head towards the obliging nurse, but Edith just said, ‘Really, it’s all right, I had some not long ago.’

‘Very well. I’ll not keep you long.’ Edith faded into the background and Fiona pressed on, while pouring the welcome drinks for them all. ‘You’ll want to get settled. So now, the only small thing to mention is that we have just the one proper bedroom at the moment, and the other one is temporary. It’s absolutely fine, there’s a real bed and all you’ll need, but it’s on the small side and doesn’t have a desk or wardrobe – though there are hooks to hang up your things.’ She paused, taking a sip of her drink.

Lily wondered what she was meant to do. Of course it would make a good impression if she offered to take the smaller room. Then again, she had no inclination to do so. She wanted to unpack her lovely clothes, collected with such dedication, and to be sure there was a mirror and a space for her hairbrushes and precious but limited cosmetics. She didn’t like the sound of a cramped room at all.

She was saved the decision by Ruby speaking up. ‘I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I haven’t brought much with me. I’m just glad to be here. Besides,’ she met Lily’s eyes for the first time, ‘you’re taller than me. I dare say I’ll fit into a smaller space more easily.’

Fiona regarded her seriously. ‘That’s very generous of you, Ruby. Like I say, it will only be temporary. So I’ll show you to your quarters as soon as you’ve drunk up, and then we can discuss your work tomorrow morning, after you’ve had a proper meal and a full night’s sleep.’ Draining her own cup, she rose, and Lily felt obliged to do the same, although she would sooner have lingered on the comfy sofa in the warm, homely room.

Well, well, thought Edith, after Fiona had led the new nurses away again. She had watched the superintendent’s technique with interest. Fiona had left her question hanging, no doubt deliberately, and Edith had seen from her vantage point the look that had passed across the blonde nurse’s face at the notion of taking a less than ideal bedroom. Lily, was it? She was someone who thought a lot of herself, if Edith was any judge of character, and she’d had a fair amount of practice. She wondered if she should approach Ruby and explain why the room was temporary.

They were all waiting for her to move out. She could tell when she turned down the cup of cocoa that Fiona was checking that she didn’t still feel sick. True, her morning sickness often extended into the afternoon and sometimes into the evening as well, but Edith had no intention of stopping work before she absolutely had to. It was a shame that this meant Ruby, who from that one brief encounter seemed very pleasant if a bit anxious, would have to rough it for a while. But that was just how things were. Nothing was going to prevent Edith working until the very last moment, if she had any say in the matter.

CHAPTER THREE

If Ruby could have wheeled her bike along the pavement while squeezing her eyes shut, she would have done. She wanted to block out what she’d just seen. It had been too depressing for words and she wished she hadn’t had to be there.

It wasn’t as if she had come from a wealthy area or hadn’t been into patients’ homes before. Of course she had; that was what the specialist district nurse training had been about. The area where she had worked had plenty of families who were far from well off, and she had steeled herself to expect more of the same now she had come east. All the same, the house she had just visited was on a whole new level of poverty.

Ruby had been called there to see the mother, who had had an accident falling off a kitchen stool some weeks ago and was taking a long time to get better. She needed her dressings changed, and that had sounded simple enough. But when she got to the address, Ruby had been overwhelmed by the number of people crammed into the small red-brick terraced house, which showed signs of bomb damage. The house next to it was uninhabitable, and so one wall was left exposed, meaning the place was even colder and damper than it might have been before. No wonder the poor woman was recovering so slowly. She should have been taking it easy but instead was trying to look after a host of small children – Ruby had lost count – and an infirm elderly woman who sat in one corner of the cramped living room and complained loudly, even as Ruby was trying to talk to her patient.

Ruby had done her best but had gasped with relief once she had shut the front door behind her again – carefully, in case it came away from its half-rotten frame. She had gulped in the cold fresh air of the street, fighting down the urge to gag at the smell of the little house. It had been like a nightmare.

Now she slowly wheeled her bike along, knowing she had to get to her next appointment but desperate for some time to recover first. You wanted this, she told herself. You knew what it was going to be like. That was half the trouble; she had jumped into this and thought she was prepared, but the reality of it was only now hitting her.

She screwed her eyes shut again, just briefly. She’d done it now; she had to cope. She couldn’t go running home with her tail between her legs. Her mother and particularly her sister would never let her forget it. She shook her head. She couldn’t let their voices fill her mind. She’d lose every ounce of confidence if she did. Then they would have won.

Right, my girl, she muttered. Show some backbone. The other nurses deal with such things day in, day out. There’s no earthly reason why you can’t, either. You’ll have to, simple as that. You can’t back out now, not just because somewhere smelled terrible and was dark and noisy and damp.

Besides, Ruby realised, she was needed. She must remember that. What would the poor mother have done if nobody came to change her dressings? Her legs might never heal properly and then all those children would have been even worse off. It was, what? Ten minutes of the day. Ten minutes that would have made all the difference to her patient, and therefore to all the family.

Ruby felt her mood brighten and she began to take in her surroundings. This must be the market that some of the other nurses had told her about. There were stalls with bright awnings, and even with the restrictions of rationing there seemed to be plenty of things for sale. Colourful goods were cleverly arranged to make them seem plentiful. Voices drifted across the road, stallholders shouting their wares, the buzz of conversations, arguments, gossip. She decided that she would explore it properly on her first day off.

Her new colleagues had been kind, filling her in on the local area, and she had been surprised to find that they came from far and wide themselves. Fiona was Scottish, of course; then there were two nurses from Ireland, who had come to London because they knew there was a shortage of trained medical staff. The nurse with the thick chestnut hair sounded rather posh; Edith – on the other hand – spoke very like Ruby did, though she said she came from south London, not west. She hadn’t met all of the others yet, and it was a job to remember their names. She wondered if Lily had the same trouble, although she’d bet that the other new nurse wouldn’t admit to it even if she did.

Ruby paused and smiled to herself. Lily hadn’t fooled her for a moment. There was no way on this earth that her fellow newcomer would have volunteered to take the temporary bedroom. She’d been all gratitude and are-you-sure, I’ll-swap-if-you-like, but Ruby couldn’t imagine her anywhere that didn’t have a big mirror and a decent light above it. That and somewhere to hang up her many clothes. How her glamorous colleague had managed to come by so many while everyone Ruby knew was struggling with clothing coupons and make do and mend, she couldn’t comprehend.

Not that she begrudged her. Ruby was quite content with her makeshift room; she didn’t need anywhere bigger. She had very few dresses to hang up, aside from her uniforms. She had enjoyed the freedom of living in at the nurses’ home while training, but once she’d been back under the family roof, she’d had a glorified box room no bigger than where she was now. Her sister had commandeered the bigger room as her husband Terry might come home on leave. Her brother Colin had a room fit for a fighting hero. Ruby knew her place.

She checked the address for her next patient and squinted at the map. She’d soon get the hang of the unfamiliar streets, she told herself. The others had done so before her; she didn’t like to confess that she’d hardly ever left Hammersmith and the areas immediately around it. She would learn, she’d have to. Rather reluctantly she turned her back on the lively market and traced the route she had just memorised. She would cope, and things would get better. She didn’t need to believe what her family had told her, the doubts they had sown. She would not let their voices win.

‘So how have you been?’ Alice set down her canvas weekend bag on her bed and looked at her fellow nurse and best friend, Edith Banham. ‘You’re still very pale. Are you sure you’re eating properly?’

Edith stretched out along the narrow bed as best she could, around the bulging bag. ‘Don’t fuss, Al. I’ve had it up to here with Fiona checking me over every two minutes. Blimey, you’ve only been gone a few days. I hope you haven’t spent all your time worrying about me.’

Alice nodded. ‘As I thought, then. You haven’t been eating. Seriously, Edith, you can’t live on dry toast.’

Edith shuffled around on the candlewick bedspread. ‘I happen to like dry toast.’

‘Just as well.’ Alice wasn’t giving up.

‘It’s filling and there’s plenty of it, even if it’s from that horrible national wheatmeal loaf. How does that rhyme go? “It builds up my health, and its taste is good, I find that I like eating just what I should.” Must be true, the government says so.’

‘Oh well, in that case …’ Alice relented a little, as she took her clothes from the bag and shook them out.

‘So how were your parents? Oooh, is that new?’ Edith’s eyes were drawn to the fine wool boat-neck jumper that her friend was holding up.

Alice smiled. ‘My mother made it. Must have taken her ages, it’s got all these complicated bits at the cuffs. See, these pearl buttons.’

Edith felt the delicate cuffs and sighed. ‘It’s just your colour, Al. Turquoise blue.’

Alice had dark blonde hair that she nearly always wore up, as it was more practical for work, but this evening it hung down to her shoulders. ‘She’s had the wool for ages, waiting for the right moment to make me something.’

‘That’s lovely.’ Edith didn’t say anything more but she didn’t have to. Alice could tell she was thinking of her own mother, who scarcely bothered to send a Christmas card, and never remembered her daughter’s birthday. There had been no special festive gift in the post, not this year or any year that she could recall. Then again, Edith was from a big family and Alice was an only child.

‘I don’t know why we didn’t think of doing this before,’ she said, folding the new jumper and carefully placing it in her dressing-table drawer. ‘It always seems such a long journey back to Liverpool, but meeting halfway wasn’t nearly as bad. My father’s always wanted to see Stratford.’

Edith nodded. ‘Bet he wouldn’t have been quite so keen when the Luftwaffe were bombing Coventry. A bit close for comfort, isn’t it?’

‘True. But they haven’t done that for ages.’ Alice brought out a brightly coloured tin from the bottom of the bag. ‘As you’re eating only dry toast, I don’t suppose you’d be interested in my mother’s spicy biscuits.’

Edith immediately sat up. ‘I could make an exception for those. Besides, ginger is good for nausea, as you must know, Nurse Lake. Go on, hand them over.’

Alice grinned as she passed the tin to Edith and then sat down beside her, moving the empty bag to the rag rug on the floor.

‘What have I missed? I know it’s only been a few days but it feels like ages.’

Edith finished her mouthful before replying. ‘As it happens you have missed something. The two new nurses have arrived. One’s had to go into the broom cupboard downstairs as I’ve not thrown in the towel yet.’ Her eyes flashed defiantly.

‘Well, they’ve done it up, haven’t they, so it isn’t a cupboard any more,’ said Alice, not getting drawn in to Edith’s mood. ‘They’d started before I left. It won’t be too bad.’

‘She seems nice,’ Edith reported. ‘Well, maybe a bit green, but we must all have been like that when we started out on the district for the first time.’

‘I was very nervous,’ Alice recalled, casting her mind back to the day when she and Edith had come to Victory Walk together, just weeks before the war began. That made them virtually veterans.

‘Her name’s Ruby,’ Edith went on, ‘and the other one is Lily. She’s from Liverpool too. I wonder if you know each other?’

Alice laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. Liverpool’s a pretty big place, you know.’

Edith shrugged. ‘Yes, but it’s possible, isn’t it? She sounds a bit like you, though her accent’s stronger – even more than yours was when you first left home.’

Alice smiled at the memory. ‘Maybe … but there are loads of hospitals in and around there. The doctors and nurses I knew back then could be anywhere by now, posted to all four corners of the globe.’

Edith nodded, knowing full well that this was the case for everyone – families, friends, colleagues now split up, sent to wherever they were of most use. Her own brothers were now serving in the forces – not that she was in touch with them much. ‘Shall we go down for the evening meal, then? Hasn’t travelling given you an appetite?’

Alice sat back, eyebrows raised. ‘What, do you actually feel like eating?’

Edith nodded with determination. ‘Must have been the magic properties of your mother’s biscuits. Suddenly I feel as if I could eat a horse.’

‘Careful what you wish for,’ Alice said cheerfully, getting to her feet. ‘Maybe better sticking to the lentil rissoles.’

‘Don’t really care,’ said Edith, standing up and brushing crumbs from her faded green skirt. ‘Lentils, horse, I’ll eat the lot.’

Alice followed her down the corridor and stairs, beaming at the idea that her friend finally wanted to eat something, knowing that she had been so sick.

Lily tucked into her breakfast with relish. It had been hours and hours since she’d eaten properly. The day before she had had an early evening meal and then found she had forgotten to buy any snacks to leave in her service-room locker, for those occasions when she needed something extra between the canteen mealtimes.

She wouldn’t make that mistake again. Somehow on her morning rounds she would find a moment to visit a shop or a stall and see what was available. Three meals a day were provided for the nurses, but it was hard work riding on those old boneshaker bikes around the still-unfamiliar streets of Dalston, and she needed more fuel.

It was a wonderful novelty to have porridge ready and waiting rather than having to cook it herself. Even if there wasn’t much sugar to put in it, let alone cream or fruit, simply sitting down to something warm and filling to begin the day was very welcome. She wondered if she would get used to it, take it for granted. But it was still her first week and the joy had yet to wear off.

There weren’t many others up at this early hour. Lily had been awoken by the rumbling of her stomach. Good job she had the lovely bedroom to herself and there was nobody else to hear. While it was not exactly luxurious, the room was better than any she’d had before. It was on a corner of the building, with one window facing over the front gate and the opposite terrace of Victory Walk, the other at right angles giving a view over neighbouring rooftops. She could see the havoc the Blitz had wrought on the area, but also catch the last rays of the setting sun, if she was back on time. That would only get better once spring came.

The porridge had been served to her by a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, with scraped-back straight brown hair and shadows of tiredness under her eyes, but with a bright manner that suggested she was used to being up and about at this unearthly hour. Lily had been unsure of how to behave with her. At her previous nurses’ home, she had cultivated a gracious manner with the various helpers, showing that she was friendly but that her position of a trained professional must be respected. She didn’t want to appear too patronising; you never knew when you might need a favour. Yet she had to admit she saw herself as above those who cooked and cleaned, keeping the medical establishments ticking over.

She had been prepared to extend the same attitude to this young woman, but then one of the others had mentioned in passing that Gladys was also a nurse with the Civil Nursing Reserve. That made Lily feel slightly confused. Should she treat the young woman with an air of friendliness tinged with rightfully earned superiority, or acknowledge her as an equal? Yet the Reserve weren’t as well-trained as regular nurses, were they? Some had served for many hours in hospitals, though, as well as at first-aid outposts; there they would have had to cope with whatever horrors the bombings threw at them until the ARP could organise ambulances to bear the casualties away. It was a dilemma.

Somebody had dropped into conversation that Gladys worked all day at the nurses’ home, including the early start, then helped to look after her many younger siblings at home before spending most evenings at a first-aid post at a local church hall. That would explain the dark rings under her eyes. Perhaps condescension was the wrong approach. Lily had smiled gratefully when collecting her porridge, deciding she would bide her time with this one.