A Nightingale Christmas Promise Page 12

  ‘She’s a medical student?’ Miriam looked scandalised.

  ‘I know.’ Gifford’s mouth tightened. ‘Being a nurse isn’t good enough for some people.’

  Sadie stared at the young woman. The last time she had seen her, she was kneeling beside her, saving a man’s life.

  As if she knew she was being watched, Miss Carlyle suddenly looked up. She saw Sadie and gave a puzzled frown, as if trying to place her.

  Before she had a chance to react Dr Ormerod arrived, and it was time to begin the round. As they all filed back on to the ward behind the Great Man, Sadie lagged behind deliberately, still fiddling with her cuff stud. The wretched thing would not fasten. She only hoped Miss Sutton would not notice.

  They reached the first patient.

  ‘Mrs Ada Dixon,’ Dr Ormerod recited from her notes. ‘Age forty-five, wife and mother of four children.’

  ‘I dunno about children,’ the woman butted in. ‘My George is nearly twenty-five.’ She looked around proudly at the faces assembled around her bed. She was a big, blowsy woman, her lacy bed jacket barely covering her ample curves. She reminded Sadie of Belle, with her scarlet-painted lips and bold, cockney manner.

  ‘Patient has a history of dyspepsia over several months,’ Dr Ormerod went on, ignoring her. ‘She complains of pain in the middle of the epigastrium, which is aggravated by taking food.’

  ‘I’ve barely been able to eat for a week,’ Mrs Dixon said.

  ‘More recently, there has been vomiting and haematemesis,’ Dr Ormerod continued.

  ‘Bringing up blood,’ Mrs Dixon explained helpfully. ‘Gave me quite a fright, it did.’

  Dr Ormerod gave her a hard stare over his spectacles. He clearly wasn’t used to being interrupted. ‘Surgery was considered,’ he said, ‘but given that this is the patient’s first incidence and tests have shown no suspicion of malignancy, nor any sign of perforation, it was decided that a medical treatment would be preferable.’

  ‘I don’t want anyone cutting me about,’ the woman said. ‘Besides, it’ll be nice to put my feet up for a few weeks.’ She settled back comfortably against the pillows.

  A couple of the nurses giggled, but Miss Sutton sent them a silencing look.

  Dr Ormerod turned to the students. ‘Can anyone tell me the most important aspects of treating a gastric ulcer?’

  Miss Carlyle’s hand went up straight away. Dr Ormerod looked straight past her.

  ‘Rest, the removal of all foci of infection, the provision of a bland, non-irritating diet and continuous neutralisation of the gastric contents,’ a young man with bright red hair and a freckled face spoke up.

  Dr Ormerod turned his piercing gaze on him. ‘What kind of infection?’

  The young man faltered. ‘Er – blood-borne?’

  ‘Yes? And what else?’

  The student looked near to tears. Miss Carlyle stepped in, her voice clear and calm.

  ‘Diseases of the mouth and teeth,’ she said.

  Dr Ormerod rolled his eyes. ‘I was asking young Wallace here, but as usual Miss Carlyle has to have her say.’ The other students chuckled appreciatively. Sadie saw a tinge of red in the young woman’s cheeks.

  ‘Very well, Miss Carlyle, since you’re so determined to give us the benefit of your great knowledge.’ Dr Ormerod paused, playing up to his audience. ‘To which diseases are you referring?’

  Miss Carlyle did not flinch. Holding her head high, she said, ‘Pyorrhoea, periodontitis and apical abscess, and infection of the accessory nasal sinuses. Infected tonsils and chronic nasal catarrh—’

  ‘Yes, yes, I think we’ve heard enough. We’re all very impressed, I’m sure.’ Dr Ormerod dismissed her with a wave of his hand. ‘Now, as to the neutralisation of the gastric contents, can anyone suggest ways in which this could be achieved? Anyone except Miss Carlyle, that is,’ he added, as she opened her mouth to speak.

  Afterwards, they advanced slowly down the ward, stopping to consider several other patients. Some were missed because, as Gifford explained, they were under the care of another consultant or a specialist.

  At each bed the routine was the same. One of the doctors would list the patient’s symptoms, note her progress or otherwise, then Dr Ormerod would ask the students questions. Every time Miss Carlyle would put up her hand, and every time the consultant would ignore her.

  Then, as they reached the far end of the ward, disaster struck. Sadie’s cuff stud came loose and dropped to the ground. She watched helplessly as it rolled across the polished wooden floor towards Miss Sutton …

  Miss Carlyle stepped forward, as if to get a better look at the patient, and trapped the stud under her foot, hiding it from the ward sister’s sight.

  As they moved on to the next patient, Miss Carlyle bent down, picked up the stud and slipped it into Sadie’s hand.

  ‘Yours, I think?’ she muttered out of the side of her mouth.

  ‘Thank you,’ Sadie whispered back.

  Miss Carlyle gave her a quick smile and then she was gone, following the other students as they crowded around the bed of a heart patient. Later, the probationers discussed Miss Carlyle as they prepared lunch in the kitchen.

  ‘Did you hear the way Dr Ormerod spoke to her? He certainly put her in her place.’ Miriam Trott looked pleased.

  ‘I thought he was very unfair,’ Sadie said. ‘He didn’t speak to the other students like that.’

  ‘He’s probably sick of her,’ Miriam replied. ‘She never stops trying to show off, have you noticed?’

  Sadie looked at her. It takes one to know one, she thought.

  When Sadie returned from her break at ten o’clock, Gifford was waiting for her.

  ‘I need you to take a bedpan to Miss Maslow in room two,’ she said.

  ‘Room two, Staff?’

  ‘One of the private rooms, up the corridor.’ Gifford pointed the way. ‘Hurry up about it, please. The poor woman’s dying to go.’

  ‘Yes, Staff.’

  Sadie hurried straight off to the cupboard to collect a bedpan, remembering what she’d been told. She didn’t want to end up in the ward book.

  Miss Maslow was obviously not that desperate because she was asleep when Sadie crept into her room a moment later, carrying the bedpan carefully under a cloth.

  ‘Miss Maslow?’ she called out softly. ‘You wanted a bedpan, love?’

  The woman went on sleeping peacefully. Sadie tucked the pan under her arm and reached out to wake her. Her skin felt clammy and cold.

  ‘Miss Maslow?’ As Sadie touched her, the old woman’s head suddenly lolled to one side, and Sadie found herself staring into a lifeless face the colour of marble.

  Sadie let out a scream and sprang back, dropping the bedpan with a clatter. It rolled across the floor and landed at the feet of Miss Sutton as she flung open the door.

  ‘Whatever is the matter, Nurse?’ She looked down at the bedpan at her feet, then back at Sadie.

  Sadie pointed to the woman in the bed. ‘She – she’s dead, Sister.’

  ‘Of course she’s dead. She died an hour ago.’ Sister stooped and picked up the bedpan. ‘She certainly won’t be needing this. What were you thinking, girl? Who sent you here?’

  Sadie glanced past the ward sister’s shoulder to where Gifford and two of the other staff nurses were watching from the passageway, their hands over their mouths to muffle their laughter.

  She straightened her shoulders. ‘No one sent me, Sister.’

  ‘So you just decided to wander around the private rooms with a bedpan, in case someone wanted one?’ Miss Sutton thrust the pan back at her. ‘Take this away, and don’t let me catch you being so foolish again.’

  ‘Yes, Sister.’

  ‘And don’t make such a fuss in future,’ Miss Sutton called after her. ‘I can assure you, this is not the last dead body you are going to see!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Gifford said, as Sadie emerged, still shaking, from the room. ‘We like to play a trick on the new girls, help them settle in. Tha
nks for not giving us away,’ she added.

  Sadie was still shaking when she returned the bedpan to the cupboard.

  ‘What was it like?’ Grace was agog, wanting all the details. ‘Did you touch it? Was it cold and stiff?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Sadie shuddered. ‘I feel sick thinking about it, if you want to know.’

  By the time they came to serve lunch to the patients at midday, she had recovered from her shock enough to see the funny side. So when Gifford told her to prepare some peptonised milk for the gastric ulcer patient, she was able to say, ‘I hope this one’s alive?’

  Ada Dixon was very much alive.

  ‘And what’s this when it’s at home?’ She stared down in disgust at the cup Sadie had placed on the bed tray in front of her.

  ‘Peptonised milk, Mrs Dixon. It’s easy for you to digest.’

  Ada Dixon peered dubiously into the contents, then looked away, her nose wrinkling. ‘And if I drink all this I can have my proper dinner?’

  Sadie shook her head. ‘I’m afraid that’s all you can have until your ulcer settles down. Solid food will only aggravate it.’

  Mrs Dixon took a reluctant sip, then grimaced at the taste. ‘Blimey, that’s horrible! Can I at least have a nice cup of tea to help wash it down?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Dixon. It’s more than my job’s worth.’

  Mrs Dixon took another sip of her drink and pulled a face. ‘And I thought it was going to be like a holiday, being in here. Some bleeding holiday! It’s worse than a wet weekend in Clacton!’

  ‘I know, it’s awful, ain’t it? They made us try it in training.’ Sadie looked sympathetic. ‘But once your ulcer improves, you can have a poached egg and some steamed fish.’

  Mrs Dixon laughed. ‘I never thought the day would come when I’d look forward to a bloody poached egg!’

  Sadie laughed too. But the next minute Sister’s voice rang out down the ward.

  ‘Sedgewick!’

  Sadie glanced over her shoulder at Miss Sutton, who was watching her keenly from the kitchen doorway.

  ‘Oops, Sister’s watching. I’d better look busy.’ Sadie quickly made a show of tucking in Mrs Dixon’s bedclothes. ‘I’ve already been in her bad books twice today.’

  ‘Why? What have you done?’

  Sadie told her about the missing cuffs and Miss Maslow in room two. Ada Dixon roared with laughter. ‘I ain’t surprised you had a fit, love!’

  ‘And it’s my first day, too,’ Sadie said ruefully.

  ‘What a rotten trick to play. You should have reported them to Sister.’

  Sadie shook her head. ‘Oh, no, I’d never tell. It was only a bit of fun.’

  Mrs Dixon looked thoughtful. ‘You’re a local girl, ain’t you? You sound local. Where are you from, love?’

  ‘I—’ Just at that moment Gifford appeared.

  ‘I’ve come to warn you, Sister’s got her beady eye on you,’ she whispered. ‘Better not let her catch you chatting.’

  Mrs Dixon gulped down the rest of her milk and handed the empty cup back to Sadie. ‘There you are,’ she said. ‘You can tell that old bag I finished every drop.’

  ‘Sister will be very pleased, I’m sure,’ Sadie said primly. ‘Now, is there anything else I can do for you?’

  ‘No, ta, love. You’ve got enough to do without fussing over me.’

  It was a long day. By the time Sadie came off duty at six o’clock her feet were sore, her back and head ached, and all she wanted to do was to go back to her room, lie down and sleep.

  As she returned to Lennox House, Miss Westcombe came out of her office.

  ‘Ah, Sedgewick, I’ve been waiting for you.’ She took an envelope from her pocket. ‘This came for you an hour ago.’

  Sadie looked at her name written in Belle’s childish scrawl on the envelope, and her heart sank. Not again!

  ‘Thank you, Sister.’ Sadie slipped the note into her pocket and headed for the stairs.

  ‘The woman who brought it seemed very agitated,’ Miss Westcombe called after her.

  I’ll bet she did.

  In her room, Sadie put the note on the bedside table and pulled off her shoes, then fell back on the bed. Pain throbbed through her feet, and weariness consumed her. Would every day be this bad? she wondered. She thought if she closed her eyes she would sleep forever …

  She opened one eye and there was the note, propped on the bedside table.

  What was it this time? Drunk and disorderly? Fighting in the street? Or had her mother been caught with a sailor down by the docks again?

  No, she thought. Not this time. She wasn’t going to traipse all the way down to the police station and suffer that humiliation, not again. Whatever it was, she didn’t want to know about it. Let someone else pick up the pieces for a change.

  She took off her uniform. Her arms ached so much she could barely lift the heavy dress to hang it up in the wardrobe. She carefully folded up her apron, ready for the laundry.

  But all the time the note sat in the corner of her vision, nagging away at her …

  All right, she would read it. But that didn’t mean she had to do anything about it. She would read it and then she would throw it away and forget all about it …

  She picked up the envelope and tore it open.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘What’s she doing here?’ were her mother’s first words when Sadie walked into the room. Lily Sedgewick sat on the bed with her back to the door, a flannel pressed to her cheek. As she turned, Sadie caught a glimpse of a swollen, blood-encrusted lip.

  ‘She’s your daughter, Lil,’ Belle said. ‘She’s got a right to know what’s going on.’ She turned to Sadie. ‘She was curled up on the floor when I came in. Right mess, she was.’

  Lily dabbed the flannel against the puffy flesh of her cheekbone. ‘It ain’t as bad as it looks,’ she muttered.

  Sadie looked around. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Long gone.’ Belle looked grim. ‘I doubt he’ll be back for a while. Probably scared himself.’

  ‘It was nothing,’ Lily insisted. ‘Just a misunderstanding, that’s all.’ She went to stand up, then hissed in pain and sat down again.

  ‘What is it?’ Sadie said.

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Let me see.’

  ‘Stop fussing – ow!’ Lily cried out as she tried to shrug her daughter off.

  ‘Let her have a look, mate,’ Belle said.

  Lily looked sullen as she reluctantly unbuttoned her blouse. Sadie caught a glimpse of a patchwork of blue-black bruises blossoming like a girdle against her white skin.

  Belle let out a gasp behind her. ‘Sweet Jesus! What’s he done to you, girl?’ she whispered.

  Sadie bent and gently pressed the area around her mother’s abdomen. She was so thin Sadie could almost count the ribs protruding through her skin.

  She pressed again, and her mother jerked away, hissing with pain. ‘Does that hurt?’ Sadie asked.

  ‘What do you think?’ Lily said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Is it bad?’ Belle looked anxious.

  ‘I reckon she’s cracked a couple of ribs.’ Sadie straightened up and faced her mother. ‘You need to go to the hospital.’

  ‘No. No hospitals.’

  ‘But you need to see a doctor.’

  ‘And have them ask me all kinds of questions?’ Lily turned away to fasten her blouse. ‘I don’t want anyone knowing my business.’

  ‘Someone should know what he’s done.’ Sadie looked at Belle. ‘Talk some sense into her, please. Tell her she needs to go to hospital.’

  Belle stared at Lily for a long time, and Sadie could see some unspoken message passing between them. When Belle turned back to her she already knew what the answer would be.

  ‘Can’t you do something, love? You’re a nurse, ain’t you? You could patch her up.’

  Sadie looked at her mother. Lily’s battered face was set in determination. ‘Looks like I’ll have to, don’t it
?’

  ‘Don’t do me any favours, will you?’ Lily snapped.

  ‘Shut up, Lil! Can’t you see she’s trying to help?’ Belle turned back to Sadie. ‘What do you need, love?’

  ‘Something to strap up her chest – about ten inches wide, and this long.’ Sadie held her hands wide apart. ‘A torn up sheet will do. And a needle and thread.’

  ‘I’ll find something, love. Don’t you worry.’ Belle hurried off, glad to be useful. Sadie turned back to her mother.

  ‘You really should go to the hospital,’ she tried again. ‘The broken ends of the bone might damage your lung …’

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ Lily insisted. Sadie watched her mother lowering herself on to the bed, wincing at the movement. Sadie could only imagine the pain she was in, and yet she went on protecting Jimmy.

  ‘What happened?’ she said. Lily was silent. ‘I suppose he was drunk again?’

  ‘I already told you, it was a misunderstanding. He’d had a falling out with Billy Willis. He said Billy disrespected him.’

  ‘So Jimmy came home and took it out on you?’

  ‘He couldn’t help it.’

  ‘Listen to you, making excuses for him even now!’ Sadie stared at her mother, her once pretty face ravaged and battered by endless beatings. ‘When are you going to leave him?’

  ‘You don’t understand—’

  ‘You love him, is that it?’ Sadie’s mouth curled in disgust. ‘I don’t know why I bother talking to you. You’ll never do the right thing and walk out on him. You’re too weak. Weak and pathetic.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ Belle stood in the doorway, an old sheet in her hands. ‘Leave her be, she’s been through enough. You should be looking after her, not having a go.’

  Sadie looked at Belle. Her eyes were hard, thin lips pressed tight together. ‘Someone should talk some sense into her,’ she insisted.

  ‘Now ain’t the time, all right?’ Belle proffered the sheet. ‘Tell me what you want done with this …’

  Together, they helped Lily undress. Then Sadie carefully wound the dressing around her mother’s painfully thin torso, afterwards stitching it into place. She could feel Belle behind her in the doorway, watching her every move.