Chapter 2
Tilly arrived in good time. Although she lived less than an hour’s bus ride from Ryde, she was not as familiar with it as East Cowes. She got off the bus very close to the hospital and started out on the short walk.
She stood before the gates of the hospital and put down her small suitcase.
It was a formidable-looking, red-brick building with rows of windows behind which she envisaged rows of beds holding sick patients.
The central building displaying the name Royal County Hospital in bold white letters was flanked by two wings, one of them ending in an elegant curved bow window, more befitting of a stately home than a hospital, she thought.
There was a strange tower topped by a dome and Tilly wondered at its purpose.
As she stood, gazing in awe at what was to be her new place of work, a figure dumped a hefty suitcase beside hers and said in a bold voice, ‘Well, this is it, then. Last day that we can call our time our own. From now on it will be, “Yes, Matron, no, Matron, three bags full, Matron.” You must be one of the lambs to the slaughter, just like me. Felicity Marcheson, pleased to meet you,’ the young woman said, extending her hand.
The beaming grin across the young woman’s face was formed by bright red lips and an accentuated cupid’s bow.
She fixed Tilly with startling pale-grey eyes and then retracted her hand to remove a wisp of blonde hair that had stuck to the heavily applied lipstick at the corner of her mouth.
She stepped back and said, ‘And you are?’
‘Tilly Truscott.’
Tilly was taken aback by the young woman’s forwardness and height.
She was a full head and shoulders taller than Tilly, but perhaps that was due to the two-tone, high-heeled shoes that she wore.
Tilly couldn’t help but stare at them. They looked highly inappropriate for work in a hospital.
The young woman turned first one way and then the other, showing off their ankle straps.
‘Wonderful, aren’t they,’ she said. ‘My aunt works in a shoe shop and she gets the new lines on the cheap for me, employee’s rates, you know. These are the latest fashion.’
Latest fashion they might be, Tilly thought, but she didn’t fancy Miss Felicity Marcheson’s chances of getting them past the matron’s eagle eye and even if she did, she’d be praying to get them off her feet by the end of a working day.
After adjusting her cloche hat, Felicity picked up her suitcase and said, ‘Well, I suppose we should get on with it and go meet our jailer for the next God knows how many weeks.’
Tilly wondered what the other woman was doing enrolling to become a state-registered nurse if she really felt like that about it. What was Felicity’s motivation for doing the training if her heart wasn’t in it?
‘And call me Fliss — Felicity is so pompous-sounding, don’t you think?’ Felicity announced as they walked towards the main entrance together.
As far as Tilly could see, there was nothing pompous about Felicity — the words self-confident and outspoken came to mind.
The two young women enquired at the reception desk and were told to follow the signs to Downland Ward. The matron’s office was the first door on the left. Fliss tapped on the door and a voice from inside called, ‘Come.’
Matron was every bit as formidable in appearance as Tilly had expected her to be. Her fulsome figure sat boldly to attention as they entered the room. Her starched white cap was perched squarely on her head and her high forehead displayed two sharp crease lines between her eyes.
‘Sit,’ she said. ‘Now which of you is Felicity Marcheson and which Tilly Truscott?’
‘I’m Felicity, but I like to be known as Fliss,’ came the prompt reply.
‘We use full names here, not nicknames,’ Matron said. ‘In point of fact, you will get used to being called Nurse Marcheson, and you, Nurse Truscott, what is your full name? Matilda, perhaps?’
‘No, actually I was christened Tilly. That’s the name on my birth certificate,’ Tilly replied.
‘Mmm.’ Matron grunted.
She rose out of her seat and her full bulk revealed itself. As she moved around the desk, Tilly couldn’t help but notice how small her feet were compared to the rest of her body. Matron stopped and looked Fliss up and down.
‘Those shoes will have to go, Nurse Marcheson,’ she said. ‘Flat lace-ups are the order of the day.’
Then she turned to Tilly. ‘Yours will do,’ she announced.
‘But do something with that hair, Nurse Truscott. Now, pick up your cases and follow me. I will introduce you to Sister Harrison and she will appoint one of the senior nurses to show you to the nurses’ accommodation and then to get you fitted for a uniform.
You will be given your initial introduction to the hospital by Sister Harrison after lunch, which you may take in the canteen on the ground floor.
Report back to Downland Ward at two forty- five precisely, fully kitted out in your uniforms, neat and presentable.
We tolerate no slovenly behaviour here. We abide by the three Ps: punctuality, precision and perspicuity. ’
‘Sounds painful,’ Fliss whispered as they trailed behind Matron and towards their next encounter. Tilly hoped Sister Harrison would be a little more welcoming.
Once issued with their uniforms and shown their shared bedroom, they were taken to the canteen. Lunch was a bowl of soup of an indeterminate flavour and two slices of not-so-fresh bread washed down by a cup of tepid tea.
‘Not exactly gourmet fare.’ Fliss grimaced. ‘And hardly enough to sustain us until the evening meal.’
Tilly straightened her cap and tried to poke the stray curls behind her ears.
Glancing at Fliss, Tilly wondered how she managed to make the severity and plainness of a nurse’s uniform look like she was in a fashion show.
The blue sleeves of the garment Tilly had been issued with were too long for her arms and, somehow, she had managed to dip one of the starched white cuffs into her soup.
She’d tried to rub it off using the soap in the ladies’ toilets, but the stain was still visible.
So, when Tilly joined with Fliss to meet with Sister at the appointed time, Tilly held her hands behind her back so that the stain could not be seen.
That manoeuvre was pointless as it turned out.
Sister asked them to show their hands while insisting that, ‘A vigilant nurse always keeps her hands clean, her nails short and . . .’ Her eyes hovered over Fliss’s hands.
‘Free of any nail polish,’ she announced with a frown.
‘And you can get rid of that adornment,’ she barked, pointing to a beautiful, sparkly watch on her wrist. ‘Totally inappropriate for ward duty. You were told not to bring any jewellery.’
Tilly was grateful to Fliss for diverting Sister Harrison’s attention away from her own carelessness.
Fliss was dispatched back to the nurses’ home to get rid of her watch, remove her nail polish and cut her nails while Tilly was told to follow Nurse Barnes and take note of her activities.
‘I expect you to observe carefully and report back to me on the tasks that Nurse Barnes performs. Nursing is as much about observation as it is about restoring good health,’ Sister lectured.
Nurse Barnes was as broad as she was tall, or, rather, short.
Her shape must have caused consternation among the uniform makers for every seam looked as if it was straining and the hem of her dress looked as if it had been taken up several inches in order not to sweep the floor.
But at least she had a cheerful smile on her face, unlike Sister Harrison.
‘Welcome to the Royal,’ Nurse Barnes said.
‘Don’t look so worried. The first day is always a bit of a shock to the system.
Now, follow me. I need to take patient temperatures and pulse rates, and then enter them upon their personal charts.
We do this twice a day, usually first thing in the morning and again mid-afternoon.
Good afternoon, Mrs Miles, it’s time for the usual,’ Nurse Barnes said, turning her attentions to a grim-faced woman wearing a fluffy pink nightdress.
‘And there was me thinking I could get some peace and quiet for a while. Always being poked and prodded about, I am. They shove things in my mouth and up my jacksie, and stab needles in me like I’m a pin cushion.
They get me to wee in bedpans and test the results, but still they can’t find out what’s wrong with me.
’ She paused for a moment to take a breath and then said, ‘You’re a new face. What’s your name?’
‘This is Nurse Truscott.’ Nurse Barnes replied. ‘She’s one of our new trainees.’
‘Well, I hope she’s more careful than the last one. She didn’t get me proper situated on the bedpan. Nasty mess there was to clean up afterwards. Still, serves her right. I told her I wasn’t straight and she just ignored me.’
‘Now, open, please, Mrs Miles,’ Nurse Barnes said, slipping the thermometer under the woman’s tongue and taking her wrist.
The thermometer prevented any more complaining, enabling Tilly to concentrate.
She watched as Nurse Barnes completed the procedure and filled in the form hanging on a clipboard at the base of the bed.
Once the thermometer was removed, however, Mrs Miles proceeded to moan about the food.
If the lunchtime offering was anything to go by, Tilly thought, then she had to agree with her.
‘Her bark is worse than her bite,’ Nurse Barnes whispered as they moved on. ‘Now, Miss Harwood, let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?’ she said to the elderly woman in the next bed.
By the time Fliss came back, they had finished one side of the ward. Fliss joined them and after introducing herself, passed on a message to Nurse Barnes.
‘Sister asked me to tell you she’s sending Nurse Phillips to complete the checks and can you show us how to make a bed, please?’
Nurse Barnes sighed. ‘Right, then, the bed at the end is empty while Mrs Smith goes for her X-ray. We’ll do that one.’
She handed over to Nurse Phillips and they all went to the laundry room to collect fresh sheets.
‘I hope it gets more exciting than this,’ Fliss whispered.