An Unsuitable Mother. Sheelagh Kelly

starting up a band with those Sally Army chaps – a modern one, I mean, not banging the tambourine or anything! Can either of you sing? We’re going into town for dinner and to discuss names, come and join us.’

      Nell observed that Avril Joyson had tagged on to the Ashton twins, seeming to enjoy the reflected status. The last thing she desired was that one’s company, and neither, apparently, did her companion.

      ‘Sounds fun,’ replied Beata, ‘but I can’t sing for toffee. I’ll be glad to come and applaud, but tonight I just want to get home, have a cup of tea, and rest my barking dogs.’

      ‘Me too,’ smiled Nell, affecting to collapse.

      ‘Killjoys!’ Lavinia’s plummy voice denounced them, but its owner was only joking, as she further scolded Nell. ‘Especially you – why, you’re barely out of school, you shouldn’t be such a fuddy-duddy!’

      If only you knew, thought Nell, with a mind to her passionate weekend with Billy, but told her accuser, ‘I’ve just managed to get back in my parents’ good books. I daren’t risk upsetting them. I can’t really sing either.’

      ‘Why, you are no use to anyone, Spottiswood!’ Her detractor aped Sister Barber’s strict tone. ‘You should jolly well show more enthusiasm – can’t you even help us out with a name at least?’

      Recalling Sister’s earlier admonition, Nell was swift to come up with one. ‘How about the Bedpan Swingsters?’

      ‘That’s perfect!’ Lavinia and Penelope fell against each other in mirth, and with even Joyson agreeing that this was a great idea, there was much good humour as they parted.

      The last to break up, Beata enquired if Nell would be catching her bus from the railway station just around the corner. But Nell had other plans. With no opportunity to pick up Billy’s letter at lunchtime, she had been forced to wait until now. It would mean travelling out of her way, but she would never sleep without reading his latest words. Feeling safe in confiding all of this to her new friend, she gushed, ‘See you tomorrow!’ then went to collect the prized letter and read it on the bus home.

      ‘Ooh, here comes Nurse Spottiswood in her new uniform!’ remarked her mother when Nell finally got in, her father having arrived just before her.

      ‘Looking very pleased with herself as well.’ After drying his hands, Wilfred took his place at the table, Nell doing the same.

      ‘She must have had as good a day as I have,’ surmised her rather frazzled but cheerful mother, placing a meal in front of both before serving herself. ‘The washing dried in no time in this sunshine, and I managed to get every bit folded and ready for ironing tomorrow.’ This accounted for the cheery mood, thought Nell, politely attending whilst her mother wittered on. ‘So if I can make an early start before it gets too hot, then I can devote the afternoon to fruit-picking,’ finished Thelma.

      Father came alert at the thought of his territory being invaded. ‘Er, I’ll tell you when you can pick it, thank you very much!’

      ‘Oh, I don’t mean from your domain, dear.’ Though fruit trees grew in abundance in the Spottiswood back garden, Thelma would never dream of touching them without her husband’s permission. ‘No, I just mean those brambles by the railway – that’s if anyone hasn’t beaten me to it.’

      Father looked duly appeased. ‘Oh, well that’s all right then. I just didn’t want you giving our best quality stuff to the WVS. I’ve negotiated a decent price for it with a couple of greengrocers, you see – you can take all you need for ourselves of course.’ He set into his meal, a good portion of it being consumed before either parent thought to ask about Nell’s new job.

      ‘So what type of girls are you working with?’ enquired her mother.

      ‘They’re mostly very nice.’ Nell lifted her attention from her plate, and proceeded to tell her parents a little about each fellow nurse, hoping to titillate them with her impression of the French one, though they did not guffaw as much as Billy would have.

      ‘So you think you’ll enjoy this nursing lark?’ smiled her father.

      ‘I’m sure of it!’ When I get a chance, came Nell’s grim thought, not revealing that her entire day had been taken up with scrubbing floors and getting splinters in her hands and her nails torn to the quick. ‘It’s hard, but worthwhile.’

      But she did make it known how tired it had made her, and, after listening to the wireless for news of how the Battle of Britain had gone that day, she was to linger only for another ninety minutes or so with her parents, enjoying a serial, then some music, whilst helping to make firelighters from compressed newspaper. By eight o’clock she was on her way to bed with a cup of cocoa, secretly to prop up the photograph of her beloved – whose laughing face looked on whilst she read his letter again – and to compose another to him, relating in brief the events of the day, picking out things that might amuse him, and ending with the usual sentiment of how much she missed and loved him. Then, within five minutes of kissing his photograph, and hiding this and the envelope under her pillow ready to be posted in the morning, she fell asleep.

      The transformation of the rolling stock took a couple more days, during which all the recruits twiddled with each others’ surnames so as to make their address less harsh. There was not much one could do with some of the names, but in addition to Killie and Spotty, Nurse French was now Frenchy and Avril Joyson was Joy – but this was a mischievously ironic title. Sister made no complaint as long as they did their work.

      Only after the wagons had been thoroughly cleaned and polished from top to bottom, and were fully kitted out, were the volunteers to learn anything related to actual nursing. First, there was to be a fortnight of lectures and training at a hospital. Though continuing to miss Billy dreadfully, Nell was intelligent enough to realise there was no point in moping, and so welcomed this opportunity to throw herself into learning her job, and thus be equipped with fresh material for her nightly penning. Even before this, Billy had seemed to enjoy all her mundane details. Now, though, she would have much more interesting news for him, which was good for her too, for this nightly ritual certainly helped to ease the emptiness – though, oh, how she yearned for him.

      The County Hospital was in Monkgate, only an extra stop on the bus then a few minutes’ walk under two ancient Bars. Beyond its Viking gates and medieval dog-leg alleys, York’s suburbs had begun to encroach on one village after another, but inside its compact walls nothing was far away, and you could get from one side to the other in less than half an hour. There had been no need for Nell to rise early, yet she had. Thankful that the manual part was over, she rolled up at the hospital that morning raring to fill the pages of her notebook, as did her colleagues.

      All were in for a shock. After their matron on the trains being so decent, her counterpart at the hospital was quite the opposite, making her feelings clear upon meeting the auxiliaries. Whilst Sister Barber had made it plain that she did not appreciate having amateurs foisted upon her, this woman was downright insulting.

      ‘I gather that one or two of you will be applying to have your names included on the national register. Those I shall be addressing later. As to those others of more restricted intellect, I shall attempt to convey this as simply as possible. I do not, and never shall, subscribe to quackery, and will not permit it in this hospital. I may have been coerced by the powers-that-be into accepting recruits who are totally inadequate for the task, but that does not mean I will subject my patients to abuse by persons who are only fit for domestic service, factory or shop work …’

      Flushed with indignation, Nell shifted uncomfortably in her new sensible shoes, as Matron proceeded with her waspish rendition.

      ‘You might flatter yourselves that you are nurses – indeed, others might address you by such a term. I shall not. In these times of emergency the word has gained inflated value. If you were worthy of the title, you would have made the grade for it, whatever the effort. The qualifying examinations are prepared on a minimum curriculum, and if you cannot attain this simple standard, then your intellect is exceedingly limited.’

      Nell could not