Doctor Fane (hiatus)

The New Nurse IV.

Alone in the nurses' dormitory, Celia unpacked her belongings into the creaky wardrobe next to her bed. Everything is going to be alright now, she told herself. The matron and Zelda both seemed tolerable, Doctor Fane no worse than most doctors, and her surroundings were comfortable. She had certainly stayed in worse over the past eight years. The view through her window showed a very charming prospect over the village and the hills beyond. It would be pleasant to wake up to that, having spent the past two years sharing a narrow window looking out over chimneys and rooftops and London fog. When she had a little money she might even buy a flower-box for her window. Or she might borrow one from the gardener, and save her pennies. The hospital must have a gardener, for she could see the front of the hospital was set back from the road by a garden of twisty gravel walks and herbaceous borders, all fenced in by iron very new and bright.

When her things were packed away, Celia peeped guiltily behind the other two curtains in the dorm. The furniture was not uniform. The beds were the same sort of plain iron, but the other nurses' wardrobes and chairs and side tables were of quite random make, though all rather shabby looking. She supposed they must have been donated by people in the village when the hospital was opened. One of the beds was yet unmade, and clothes were draped messily over the chair next to it. An attempt had been made to hide the shabbiness of the wardrobe by pasting pictures cut from magazines and pretty soap wrappers or ribbons over it. Celia supposed this must be the mysterious Mrs Smith's bed; she could not imagine Zelda displaying such want of taste. The other cubicle was very tidy, with all the clothes put away and an attractive quilted counterpane over the end of the bed. Two framed cartoons on the wall hinted at a cheeky sense of humour: the first a play on bedside manner, and the second of a nurse and doctor kissing while a patient lay unconscious on the operating table.

Definitely Zelda, Celia thought, drawing the curtain back into place. Her fingers were shaking, perhaps out of nerves, perhaps out of hunger. A cup of tea, and a bit of toast if she could get it, would help with either. And besides — her stomach turned — she had that other matter to see about. First, she went to the mirror and gave herself a general tidy-up. Matron Howard had struck her as the kind of person who put great value on tidiness, and the train journey and car afterwards had left Celia feeling grubby and soot-stained. When she went downstairs, Matron Howard was sitting at her desk again, but this time she heard Celia at the door and looked up.

"What is it?"

"I had a few questions, actually. Um..." Celia tried to pluck up her courage. "My..." She failed. "My uniforms?"

"Of course." Matron Howard got to her feet and crossed the room to a door which she opened and went through. From the room beyond, she called, "We didn't know what size you'd be, so we didn't order any new ones in advance. But we've got some spares from previous nurses that'll do you until we can."

She returned, several folded bundles of grey-blue and white cloth in her arms. "These ought to be about right."

Celia took the top bundle, unfolded it, and held it against herself. It was a little large, perhaps, but it was clean and not very much worn. "Thank you. I think it will fit."

Matron passed her the rest of the clothes. "Was that all?"

"Ah, yes." Celia lumped the clothing up against her chest like a shield. "Well, actually..."

"Out with it, Miss Barnes. I haven't got all day."

"Is it possible to get an advance on my salary?" The words came out in a rush, but once they were out, there was no unsaying them. "I, um... I'm... a little—"

"It is not," Matron said. "You won't need it. Your meals and uniforms and lodging are provided. You will lack no necessity."

"Oh." Celia felt embarrassed for having asked — but she had to ask. She had nothing left to sell and not a penny to her name.

"Now was that it?" Matron asked.

"I... I don't suppose I could have something to eat?"

"There's supper in half-an-hour in the sitting room down the hall."

"A c-cup of t-tea?" Hot tears pricked at Celia's eyes. "I just want..." And then, to her horror, the tears were rolling down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm just..."

Matron stared impassively at Celia. "I hope you're not the sort of nurse that cries in front of patients."

"I don't normally..." Celia wiped her eyes, made out the blurry outlines of an armchair, and sank into it. "I'm just... haven't... eaten."

Matron sighed heavily and went to the door to shut it. Then she put her back against it and regarded Celia, while Celia tried to regain control of herself.

"Brandy or chocolate?" Matron said.

"What?"

"Which stimulant? Brandy, or chocolate?"

"Ch-chocolate," Celia whispered.

"Well at least you're not a drunk," Matron said drily, going to her desk and opening a drawer. She took out an eight-ounce bar of Cadbury's Dairy Milk and snapped it two in her hands then ripped the halves apart. One she put back in the drawer. The other she dropped onto Celia's lap. "Go on. Eat."

With trembling fingers, Celia unpeeled the paper from the bar and took a bite. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. When did you last eat?"

"Um." Celia swallowed and hastily took another bite. "I had supper."

"Yesterday? Why on Earth—" Matron shook her head. "You won't do such a fool thing here. We've breakfast at seven every morning and supper at eight-thirty. Dinner any time you can take it between ten and three. Unless you have night duty, in which case you've breakfast at supper and supper at breakfast and a makeshift dinner whenever you can get it."

Celia swallowed chocolate and decided it was not worth it to explain. Her meals at the New Hospital had been attached to her shift: one breakfast, dinner, and supper for every day of work. They had given her supper yesterday after her last shift, but the superintendent had told her she must buy breakfast out. It was a good thing Celia had bought her train ticket first, or she might have been short more than the thruppence that the nice gentleman waiting behind her at the ticket office had made up.

"You'd better finish the chocolate off," Matron said. "And then eat your supper and get an early night. There will be no tears tomorrow, Miss Barnes. There will be only work."

"Yes, Matron," Celia said. "Thank you."

Matron went back to her desk. "Go now, I'm busy."

Celia left, taking her new clothes and the rest of the chocolate bar with her. It was not, she thought wearily, a very good first impression but perhaps tomorrow, after she was rested, she would get the chance to make it up.

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A/N: I've started to get really into the research for this story, digging into old medical textbooks etc. The more I learn, the more I realize how many mistakes I am likely to make with it. But hopefully I can get a good story out of it anyway.