An Unsuitable Mother. Sheelagh Kelly

      – presence of mind, gentleness, accuracy, memory, observation and forethought. No matter what rank you are to achieve, these are essential to the wellbeing of your patients. You may find the way ahead severely taxing, and be especially overwhelmed during your initial introduction to the wards, and fear that there is far too much to learn. But you will not be expected to know everything at once, and, in possession of those qualities, in no time at all you will reach a standard where you can rightly be proud of your title.’ She finished on a smile, then briefly turned away. ‘Very well, Sister, let us show them what they’re in for!’

      There followed a procession to the designated train, where Matron was to come to an abrupt halt.

      Sister’s eyes penetrated the nearest recruit, who happened to be Nell. But before the latter could grasp her meaning, Beata had stepped forth and opened the door of the van for their superior.

      Crushed by naivety, and wondering how Beata could have interpreted Sister’s mute instruction, Nell kept her head down as Matron ushered her group of nurses aboard one of the converted railway wagons, and proceeded to lecture them on what was required.

      ‘As you can see, even though the workmen have done their part, it is somewhat in the raw.’ Her declaration was unnecessary, for amongst a liberal sprinkling of sawdust were relics of its previous cargo: a wizened carrot and a shrivelled cabbage leaf. Matron began a slow tour, tapping the partitions that separated the ‘wards’ from the rest of the wagon. ‘This will eventually be the doctor’s office, this one for myself, this for the sister, and this is the nurses’ mess.’ She showed them how the stretchers would be installed in racks, one above the other. ‘But before any equipment is installed it will need to be cleaned from top to bottom, and for this it will be all hands to the pumps – so, as I announced earlier, I hope none of you is afraid of hard work. If you are then you’re in the wrong profession.’ She eyed them all with a face that was stern yet fair, as if allowing them this last-minute chance to withdraw.

      At Sister’s prompting glare, Nell reacted a few seconds after everyone else. ‘Yes, Matron.’

      ‘Very well, I shall close by issuing a warm welcome to all, and leave you in Sister’s capable hands!’ And with this she departed.

      With their superior gone, Sister Barber then proceeded to give her new nurses all the do’s and don’ts. And the don’ts seemed to be mostly for Nell’s benefit. ‘You’ll be expected to turn up in more sensible footwear tomorrow, Miss Spottiswood, and without lipstick!’

      Nell’s humiliation was amplified by Avril Joyson’s told-you-so look, as Sister continued, ‘You won’t feel half so glamorous when you’re swinging the bedpans!’

      Initially deceived by the warm smile of welcome and the freckled angelic face with its baby-blue eyes, Nell was quickly learning that this one would brook no nonsense. If Matron was Florence Nightingale, this was Florence Vulture.

      ‘For those of you who have been nurturing some romantic notion, let me make it plain that you are here under sufferance, and in the most fundamental capacity. Although you may be credited with the title “Nurse”, make no mistake, it is an honorary one. You are here as helpers. Some of you may go on to achieve distinction,’ her eyes flickered briefly to the Ashton girls, before settling on Nell, ‘others are merely here for the duration. But you are all starting out on the same footing, and there will be no lording it over others. I am here to see that you do not kill anyone. We must all of us make the best of it. But let it be known that I cannot abide giddiness or laziness. Neither will be tolerated.’

      Having imprinted these opinions on them, Sister Barber began to interview them one by one. On discovering that the Frenchwoman had barely a word of English, she tutted in dismay to herself. ‘What on earth have they landed me with?’

      ‘Pardon?’ The French woman cocked her ear.

      Sister mouthed loudly at her, ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘Zey send me!’ came the strangled response. ‘I nurse.’

      ‘But in England – why are you in England?’

      ‘Ah, mon mari.’ Mrs French groped for words. ‘’E Anglais!’

      Sister heaved a sigh. ‘Good Lord, I’ll warrant you can barely count to ten …’

      ‘Mais oui!’ The other’s face brightened, and she proceeded to count aloud with pride, ‘Wan, doo, tree, four, fahve, sees, sevahn, ate, nahn –’

      ‘Yes, thank you!’ Sister held up her hand with a look of defeat, and moved on to the next in line. But she was to emit more frustration on encountering Nurse Green the elder, whose hair was snow-white and whose glasses were as thick as jam-jar bottoms. ‘Dare one enquire how old you are? No, please don’t tell me,’ she uttered quickly, ‘I’d rather not know.’ Her expression declared what a bunch of misfits she had been landed with, as she proceeded to interrogate the next.

      With one ear to the conversation, Nell was making examinations of her own. First, Beata – was that swollen ankle as painful as it looked? Those plummy girls, who had arrived already in attractive uniform, how would they cope with all the unpalatable things that would be required of them? And Avril Joyson – she had obviously taken against Nell for the crime of being too tall; would she continue to be so obnoxious? What had made her so? But in the midst of trying to fathom Avril’s hostility, her reverie was to be interrupted.

      ‘And what about you, Nurse Spottiswood?’

      Nell snapped back to attention. ‘I beg your pardon?’

      Her face like a cold summer’s day, Sister Barber gave an exasperated sigh and brandished a packet of cigarettes at her. ‘You will address me as “Sister”! I asked, do you smoke?’

      ‘Oh, I won’t at the moment, thank you, Sister.’

      The freckled face closed its eyes in lamentation of this gauche response. ‘I wasn’t offering you one! I was trying to ascertain if you smoked! For those of you who do, there will definitely be none of that in uniform!’

      Why then, Nell wondered, did Sister herself have cigarettes in the pocket of her own blue dress? As if the other had read her mind, there came a warning that forbade her even to think of offering defiance. ‘The last thing a sick person needs is for his nurse to smell like a chimney!’

      Unhappy that the pair of them had got off on the wrong foot, Nell tried to buck up her ideas, as she and the others were sent to a depot to collect said uniform.

      Upon receipt, and out of earshot of Sister, Nell made salty judgement on the unattractive dress. It was much more basic than those worn by the aristocratic Ashton girls, with no separate white collar but a cutaway one of the same fabric as the dress, no long sleeves with white cuffs like theirs, but puffed short ones, and there could be no mistaking her for a ‘real’ nurse with the large letters NA emblazoned on her breast. And instead of a neat little organdie cap like Matron’s, or a voluminous starched one with wings to either side like Sister’s, the nursing auxiliaries’ headgear was little more than a white triangle tied at the back. ‘How unflattering,’ scoffed Nell. ‘Like a peasant’s scarf! Still, I suppose we should think ourselves lucky we’re not made to wear black stockings.’

      ‘It’s not a fashion parade,’ sniped Avril Joyson. ‘We’re here to help the war effort. And I’m not surprised you got taken to task in those high heels.’

      But as the one with the goldfish pout minced out of earshot, the trustworthy Beata Kilmaster smiled back at Nell and admitted, ‘I’d love to be able to wear those, but I always have to wear sensible shoes with this leg.’ Nell’s eyes went straight to the other’s distended ankle. ‘And whatever type of shoes that one wore, she’d still be a pain in the arse – pardon my French.’ Beata chuckled in afterthought of the French nurse.

      Nell giggled, and knew immediately that despite the age gap they would be firm friends. ‘I only meant about the uniform, when you’re built like I am, you need all