Authors: Claire Rayner
Susan laughed. ‘Nor do I. But haven’t you ever wondered why? Why she’s the sort of person she is? I’d love to know about things like that, as well as about myself, and about you——’
Daphne sat silent for a moment, then she said slowly, ‘I suppose you could be right. It might be interesting. Mind you, you mightn’t like what you find out—about me, for example.’
‘Ooh, have you got a fearful secret? Will it all come out if we join in this group discussion? Marvellous! That settles it, then. I’m all for it!’
‘No,
I’m
being serious now. I’m a bit dubious about stirring things up. Sometimes it’s better just to accept things as they are. It could be that really knowing too much about yourself could be a bad thing. If you don’t like what you find out?’
‘I can’t imagine that! I don’t see you or me—or any of us come to that—as Jekylls and Hydes. It’s just interesting——’
‘I don’t suppose anything much will come of it, anyway,’ Daphne said with a return of cheerfulness. ‘Short of giving us all a shot of pentothal and making us reveal what happened when we were two years old, how could it? Mind, it’s always possible that Manton’s a dab hand at hypnosis. She’ll fix us all with a basilisk eye, and we’ll go into trances and confess to pinching brandy from the dispensary baskets, and coming on duty late every morning, and then she’ll give us all the push, and fill the Royal up with a bunch of wild eyed psychiatric sisters from Colston. She’s got it all planned, see? She’s going to infiltrate the place with them, and then turn it into a more obvious nut house than it is, and spend the rest of her life
peacefully locking up the patients and psycho-analysing herself—it’s a fragrant picture——’
And they both laughed, and went back to the hospital, to sit and talk about the film and about their plans for the rest of the week until gone midnight.
Dolly and McLeod and Daphne and Susan were not the only sisters who found an opportunity to discuss the group discussion plan that Monday evening. Josephine Cramm and Ruth Arthur came off duty together, and when they met Sylvia Swinton at the door of the Home, it was inevitable that Josephine should ask them both to come and have a hot drink in her room to talk about it all.
‘I’ve only got a little time to spare,’ Ruth said cheerfully. ‘I’ve got a date at eight o’clock. Honestly, you should have heard what this bloke said about that wife of his! I mean, dammit, I said to him, she’s a patient of mine, but he just—well,’ she laughed and looked sideways at Josephine. ‘You know what men are——’
‘Well, it’s only six o’clock,’ Josephine said, not particularly interested in Ruth’s plans for the evening. ‘And I do want to talk about this group thing—come on.’
‘All right——’ Ruth followed her up the stairs, Sylvia climbing up behind her.
‘Eight o’clock? That’s pretty late, isn’t it?’ Sylvia said, a sardonic note in her voice. ‘Won’t give you much time for the great seduction scene, will it?’
‘Oh, I don’t know!’ Ruth said immediately. ‘Time for a few drinks, and then, who knows? Me, I like starting an evening late. Won’t end too early then—and there’s no point in getting on the tiles when they’re too crowded!’ And she laughed fatly, pleased with herself. For Ruth, the best part of an evening out was the time before she went, when she could make sure that as many as possible of the other sisters knew she was going, and the next morning, when she could present a worn and weary face at breakfast, reminding them yet again of the richness and variety of her private life.
Josephine bustled about her neat room, plugging her electric kettle into the bedside light, putting shortcake biscuits on her
tray and producing instant coffee and a bottle of milk from a cupboard.
‘Well, what do you think of this fancy plan?’ she asked as she spooned coffee into the cups. ‘Sounds all rather odd to me——’
‘Oh, I think it’ll be a great giggle,’ Ruth said, curling up on Josephine’s eiderdown. ‘We’ll all confess our secret thoughts and feel purged and ready to start thinking them all over again.’
From her seat by the window, Sylvia laughed shortly.
‘And won’t you love it, Arthur. You’ll sit there, and you’ll tell everyone about this man, and that man, and what this one said, and what that one did, and Mary Cotton’ll go every colour under the sun, and you’ll have a whale of a time——’
‘Well, why not? There’s no sense in being mealy mouthed about things, is there? As for Mary—I swear she thinks babies come from spontaneous combustion. I’m not kidding—do you know what happened the other day? I must tell you—I was up on Matty, getting the notes of a woman they had to send to me for a big repair, and one of the pupils came in to the office in a great old flap. Mary had sent her to get the temp, chart from the woman’s bed, you see, and she—the woman—was in a single room. Infection or something. Mary’s got a great thing about that. If their temps, go up point one of a degree she’s got them in isolation before you can say knife. Anyway, as I was saying, this pupil came in in a great old to-do. “Ooh, Sister Cotton” she says, “I don’t know what to do. I was just going into the room, and I just looked through the little window on the door, and well Sister, it’s visiting time, you see——” So Mary says, all innocent. “Well, Nurse, what has that got to do with it? Go and get that chart.” “Ooh, Sister,” says the pupil, “I can’t really——” “Why not?” says Mary, a bit peeved. “It’s her husband, Sister,” says the pupil, red as a beetroot. “He—ooh, Sister, he’s got on to the bed, and I can’t.” So you know what Mary said?’
Ruth roared with laughter.
‘She said—she said,’ and Ruth spluttered. ‘She said, “Well, I suppose the poor man’s tired—he’s on night work, and I daresay he’s tired. But you just tell him visitors mustn’t sit on
the beds, because I haven’t enough counterpanes to keep on changing them if they get dirty.” Honestly, I could have died laughing. The pupil looked at me, and I looked at her, and poor old Mary hadn’t a clue! I ask you!’
Sylvia grinned. ‘So what happened?’
‘Oh, I said I’d get the chart myself! Wouldn’t have missed that for a pension. By the time I got to the room, though, there he was sitting on the chair, looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth! I couldn’t resist it—I said to him, all brisk and innocent, you know? “It was such a pity his wife had to have this operation, so soon after having a baby—it was all rather a puzzle, wasn’t it?” and he went scarlet, dirty old whatsit. Not that I blame him, really——’
‘What had that got to do with the counterpane?’ Josephine was puzzled.
Ruth stared at her for a moment, and then laughed again, shaking her head at Swinton in speechless delight, and Swinton, her rather long face lifting, joined in.
‘Do you blame me for thinking this group thing will be a giggle, Swinton, after that? Do you?’
‘I wish you’d stop laughing like that,’ Josephine said petulantly, handing coffee cups round. ‘Either tell me the joke, or shut up.’
‘To put it simply, Jo, love, the husband had taken his chance to enjoy a crafty bunk-up.’
Josephine still looked puzzled.
‘He was claiming his marital rights,’ Ruth added with heavy patience.
Josephine went scarlet. ‘Really, Arthur, you go too far sometimes. You’re always harping on the same subject.’
‘It wasn’t me that went too far that time. It was the husband,’ Ruth said promptly and winked at Swinton.
‘Well, if this group discussion is just going to be a session where everyone talks about sex all the time, you can count me out,’ Josephine said with decision. ‘It’s not that I’m moral or anything like that. It just bores me.’
‘You don’t know what you’re missing,’ Ruth said. ‘You should try it sometime——’
Swinton ignored her. ‘It won’t be that, Cramm, not really.
I daresay Arthur’ll do her best to make it like that——’
‘You bet I will,’ Ruth said.
‘But she won’t get far. Manton won’t have it, I shouldn’t think. It’ll just be a lot of chat about what things make you angry with nurses, and what to do about the ones who try to get cheeky, and how to be sweet and charming to the dear little things. The only thing Manton cares about, if you ask me, is the recruitment figures. If she can get the student numbers up to strength, she’ll find her job that much easier, won’t she? And she seems to think this is one way of doing it. She might have something there at that. Look at the way girls go after a few months——’
‘It depends where they’re working. Three went from Cas. last month, didn’t they? You can’t blame the poor bitches. I’d run a mile rather than work with East,’ Ruth said.
Josephine creased her face worriedly. ‘I lost two girls last year—I mean, they left while they were on my ward.’
‘Well, there you are,’ Swinton said. ‘Maybe you could do with a little—help.’
‘I suppose I could,’ Josephine said, a little awkwardly. ‘I do get into a state about it all, don’t I?’
Swinton stood up. ‘Sounds to me as though you’re halfway there, Jo. At least you’re thinking along the right lines. I must go. Thanks for the coffee——’
Ruth stood up too. ‘Doing anything special, Swinton?’ she asked with real curiosity. Swinton never talked at all about what she did off duty.
‘Oh, nothing special,’ she said easily. ‘Have fun, Arthur. And don’t forget to make notes, so that you can tell us all at breakfast,’ and she went.
‘Sarky bitch,’ Ruth murmured. ‘Ah, well, I must be away. I’ve got a fancy paint job to do on this face of mine. I’m no beauty, and I need the time. But the net result’s the same! See you, Cramm. You get your feelings sorted out for the first discussion, ducky. It’ll be a giggle, one way and another——’
Ruth’s room was squalid in its untidiness, and not entirely because she couldn’t be bothered to keep it tidy. She genuinely liked it that way. The clothes piled on the armchair instead of being hung neatly in the wardrobe, the messy tubes and pots of
make-up on the dressing table, the shoes piled haphazardly under the window made the room feel, to Ruth, like a real home. She would rummage in the mess, muttering to herself as she dressed and made up. Ruth always talked to herself, sometimes silently, often in a soft monotone, finding an obscure comfort in putting her thoughts into words.
‘Hello, old bag,’ she murmured into the mirror, wrinkling her forehead to fine lines. ‘Your years are showing—green or red, green or red—and where will it be?’ She began to get out of uniform, dropping the heavy blue dress on the floor, throwing her cap and cuffs on to the top of the wardrobe.
‘If a trolley comes first, the train and the Strand Palace. Or if a bus comes, it could be the Regent Palace. Or somewhere different? No, Strand or Regent tonight. Leave it to the bus—if it’s the Strand I’ll be an out-of-towner. If it’s the Regent I’ll be real cockney. Show you the town, Mister? Too cold. Talk about it instead—red. The green’s dirty—Christ, I want a new one—half day Friday—maybe I’ll find someone then who’ll get one—that’d be a giggle. Half day seeing the town, new dress, and then whoops a daisy, you’re for the push—it’s worked before——’
The evening went well from the beginning. As she left the Nurse’s Home, resplendent in her red suit with the pink lacy blouse under it, Mary Cotton was coming in, and reddened at Ruth’s heavy wink and grin as she announced she was ‘late for her date. Poor man’ll be panting by the time I get there——’
A petrol bus arrived at the bus stop first, which meant she would go to the Regent Palace Hotel, which she really rather preferred to the Strand Palace. She had had some notable successes at the Regent.
The bus was full, and she had to climb to the top deck, to sit next to the window near the front. A big man in a heavy overcoat came and sat beside her, and after a few moments, began to make small overtures, pushing his leg against hers, pretending to read a newspaper, accidently pushing his elbow into her breast as he turned a page.
‘I beg your pardon——’ his voice was a thick warm one, with a faint overtune of cockney in it. ‘These papers are tricky—
hope I didn’t—embarrass you——’
‘Not very much——’ she murmured, looking at him sideways from under her lashes, and he offered her a cigarette.
They talked all the way up to town, and for a while, she wondered if it might be worth taking this one on. He clearly needed only the slightest encouragement to stay with her, but she decided not to. She’d done that once, and the man had been the very devil to handle. Better to go to the hotel and find someone who was staying there. Easier, they were. But she let this one pay her fare, and when they both stood on the lower deck, waiting for the bus to reach the Piccadilly Circus fare stage, she slid off as it slowed down for a corner, waving a sweet goodbye to his chagrined face as she went.
The hotel lobby was full as she came through the revolving doors, people standing about talking and laughing loudly, and when she heard several northern accents, her mouth lifted in a grin.
‘Must be an exhibition on. Lots of ’em on the loose tonight——’ and she went to the ladies’ cloakroom to touch up her make-up and undo her suit jacket so that the sheer pink lace blouse showed well, the line of her brassiere under it clearly visible.
She chose the small bar, and the table in the corner, under the pink light, was empty. She settled herself comfortably, sitting sideways, one leg over the other so that a reasonable expanse of stocking top could be seen. She ordered a gin and tonic from the bored barman, and paid happily. That was another thing she liked about the hotel. The barmen changed more often. It had been a bit sticky that time at the Strand when the barman had remembered her, and leered a little, had tried to pick her up himself. That was the last thing she wanted, people who might meet her again and know her.
She didn’t have to wait long. A heavy man, with thin dark hair stretched over a wide balding patch came and hovered by the table after she had been there a few minutes, and said in a thick Yorkshire accent—‘Er—this table full, miss? Or could I’ave a corner of it, like?’
She smiled charmingly. ‘Certainly. I won’t be here long——’ and she looked pointedly at her watch as he sat
down, carefully hitching his trousers at the knees.
He ordered a whisky, and she could feel his eyes on her as she sat with her head back against the squabs of the upholstered wall, gazing into the middle distance apparently unaware of him. She looked at her watch twice more in the next ten minutes, and then sighed sharply, and began to rummage in her bag. She found four pennies, and then stood up, to go across the bar towards the telephones, carefully dropping her gloves under the table before she went.