The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,13
her day off, Sister.’
‘Disgraceful! You nurses get far too much time off.’ Sister Sutton went over to the bed, tore off the bedclothes and, with a great effort, upended the mattress on to the floor. Dora looked at the dark girl, but her gaze remained fixed on the worn rug at her feet.
Sister Sutton stood back, breathing heavily. ‘Tell Benedict if I ever find her bed a mess again, I will send her straight to Matron. Is that clear?’ she said.
‘Yes, Sister.’
‘And you,’ Dora jumped as Sister Sutton swung her attention back to her. ‘Let this be a lesson to you. I will not tolerate slovenliness in nurses. If you can’t keep yourselves neat and tidy, how on earth do you expect to care for patients?’ Once again, Dora felt the full force of her gaze, raking up and down, looking for faults. ‘Well?’
‘I – I don’t know, Sister,’ Dora stammered.
Sister Sutton tutted and shook her head. ‘This is Doyle,’ she said to the other nurse. ‘Please help her settle in.’ She turned back to Dora. ‘Get changed and go down to supper at eight. Your training will begin at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow morning. Tremayne will show you where to go. Come, Sparky.’ She left, slamming the door behind her.
Dora stared at it. ‘Blimey, is she always like that?’
‘Sometimes she’s worse.’ The girl picked her way across the room. ‘Here, help me sort out this bed.’
‘I’m Dora, by the way,’ she introduced herself as they hauled the heavy horse-hair mattress back on to the bed.
‘Helen. But we’re not supposed to use Christian names on the wards, only surnames.’ She pushed the mattress into place and stood back, smoothing down her blue-striped dress. ‘There, that’ll do. Benedict can do the rest when she gets in. You can put your things in that chest of drawers.’ She nodded towards the corner of the room.
‘I’ll unpack later.’ She didn’t want Helen Tremayne to see her few poor belongings. She sounded so posh, Dora was sure she would look down her nose at her.
‘Suit yourself, but you’ll have to have everything folded and put away before supper, or Sister Sutton won’t be pleased. And you’d best get changed, too.’
Dora watched Helen as she rolled down the sleeves of her dress and deftly fastened them at the wrist with neat starched cuffs. She wondered if all nurses were as cool and brisk as her. If they were, Dora didn’t stand a chance.
She warily eyed the neatly folded pile of clothes on the bed – three blue-striped dresses, several white aprons and bibs, collars, cuffs and a laundry bag. On top of it all sat a square of white fabric starched like cardboard, which she had no idea what to do with.
Dora carefully unfolded the dress and shook it out. It was so freshly laundered, she wanted to hold it up to her face and breathe in the clean, starchy smell. But with Helen Tremayne watching, she could only hurry to get it on.
It was easier said than done. The dress was thick and heavy, lined with calico, and reached almost to her ankles. The room was chilly, but by the time she’d put on her dress and black woollen stockings she was sweltering.
‘What do you do when it’s hot?’ she asked.
Helen shrugged. ‘You just put up with it, same as you do everything else.’
Dora struggled to fasten up her cuffs. The studs were small and fiddly, and her hands became clammy with panic.
‘Do you want any help?’ Helen offered.
‘Thanks.’ Dora studied the other girl as she fastened the studs. Even her severe uniform couldn’t disguise her striking beauty. Her face was a smooth, perfect oval, with huge dark eyes framed by thick lashes.
She would be even more beautiful if she smiled, Dora thought.
She wasn’t the easiest person to talk to, either. Dora tried again to make conversation with her. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘I’m in my second year as a student.’
‘What about Benedict?’
‘She’s still a pro – a probationer, I mean. That’s what we call students in their first year. Pass me your collar.’
Dora handed it to her and lifted her chin so she could fasten it. ‘Thanks – ow! That hurts!’
‘Nothing I can do about that, you just have to get used to it. Putting Vaseline on your neck helps if it rubs too much . . . There, that’s done.’ She paused. ‘What’s this around your neck?’
‘It’s a hamsa. A kind of lucky charm. A friend gave it to me.’