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 lookedhighly 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 ofsoup 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 hemof 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.’
