At the Coalface: The memoir of a pit nurse. Veronica Clark

of the hospital,’ he replied curtly, ‘and now I’ve got an almighty headache, thanks to you and that thing.’ He pointed at the umbrella in my hand. I propped the offending item back against the wall, and took a guilty step away from it.

      The dean stood up and stomped out of the ward as my jaw hit the floor. I turned to Joyce, my face a picture of pure horror. In the background a patient coughed but, other than that, you could’ve heard a pin drop as we all watched him leave.

      ‘Joan,’ Joyce gasped, putting her hand against her mouth. ‘You’re going to be in so much trouble.’

      Thankfully, the dean never told a soul about my vicious assault on him, and after that I tried to keep my head down. A few weeks later, I was still trying to keep a low profile, when I wandered through a ward. I noticed a friend of mine standing at the other end of it, weighing a skinny old man on a large set of scales. This particular nurse was a good laugh and well known for practical jokes, so I decided to get my own back. Tiptoeing quietly behind them, I edged my shoe along the back of the scales as they both stared at the dial, waiting for it to settle. I suppressed a giggle and silently pushed down my foot to try to get a reaction. With enough force I’d managed to add on another stone to the skinny fella. My colleague spotted me lurking behind the patient and grinned, so the man turned to face me. You can imagine my shock when I recognised him – it was the dean of the hospital, again! He was being weighed before a minor operation.

      ‘You!’ he said, pointing a bony finger at me. ‘What is it about me that you can’t leave alone?’

      I shook my head, trying to think of an explanation. Then I noticed the faint flicker of a smile as he began to laugh. Lucky for me, the dean had a good sense of humour.

      ‘Oops!’ I smirked as I walked away.

      My reputation as Calamity Jane went before me and soon I was transferred again, this time to the surgical ward. A young man, who was the same age as me, had been admitted for an emergency appendix operation. At that time, patients had to be shaved down below for such things and normally it was a job for the male porter. However, on that particular day he was off, so it was left to me. I grabbed what I needed, including a razor, shaving cream and a bowl of warm water, and pushed the trolley towards his bed. Some of the other male patients had already been shaved and so, when they heard the telltale squeak of the trolley, they knew what was coming. They were also total wind-up merchants, and as soon as I’d drawn the curtain around the poor boy’s bed the banter started.

      ‘Hey, this is her first time. Watch out! She might nick you!’ one called.

      I pulled the curtain aside slightly and gave him a stern look. It didn’t work.

      ‘She’s new to this sort of thing,’ warned another, ‘but don’t worry, son, if anything drops off and falls on the floor, we’ll pick it up for you.’

      With that, the whole ward dissolved into fits of laughter. More comments followed but I held my nerve and tried to get on with the job in hand, namely shaving the poor lad’s private parts. I tried not to look at him as the razor shook in my trembling hand. He flushed bright red and pulled the pillow out from underneath his head and covered his face with it. I wasn’t sure if it was through embarrassment or downright fear! It took a little longer than expected, but eventually he was as smooth as a newborn babe.

      ‘Thanks, Nurse,’ he offered, smiling weakly as I popped the razor back into the bowl and covered him up with the bed sheet.

      ‘You’re welcome,’ I replied, blushing a little.

      As I drew the curtain, the metal rings scraped against the metal pole, signalling that I’d finished. The rest of the ward looked up and it started all over again. I walked out to a series of catcalls and light teasing.

      ‘Look, Arthur, she’s blushing!’

      ‘No, I’m not. Now go to sleep. You’re supposed to be ill!’ I laughed, pretending to scold them.

      The young lad had his operation, and a week later he was ready to leave hospital. Before he did, he beckoned me over.

      ‘I just wondered if you’d like to go out with me some time, on a date or something,’ he asked nervously.

      His question jolted me because I hadn’t expected it. At first I wasn’t sure what to do, but I told myself that he was no longer a patient so what harm could it do?

      ‘Er, that’s fine,’ I agreed.

      ‘Great. Here’s my number, if you want to call me.’

      I took his number but I never got to go on the date. I didn’t even make the call because, just days later, his mother was on the phone to Sister calling me all the names under the sun.

      ‘She’s corrupted my boy! She’s shaved him downstairs and now she wants to go on a date with him!’

      I was duly summoned to Sister’s office, where I was asked to explain myself. Thankfully, Sister was sympathetic and nodded throughout. She was a natural blonde so knew what it was like to be me.

      ‘It’s the hair,’ she remarked. ‘People remember you. His mother certainly did because she told me she didn’t want “that red-haired bitch” going anywhere near her son!’

      I clasped a horrified hand to my chest – I was absolutely mortified.

      ‘But he asked me out, not the other way around,’ I protested.

      ‘I know, but I also think he became a little bit infatuated with you after you shaved him down below. So I think it’s best all round if you decline his offer, don’t you?’

      ‘Yes, Sister.’

      She was right about the hair; it was a total hindrance.

      One day, I’d accompanied Matron and the consultant on his ward rounds. The doctor examined a man who’d been having trouble with his hearing, and, after a few moments, he turned to me.

      ‘Nurse, I need an auroscope.’

      I nodded and went towards the office at the back of the ward. I returned clutching the morning paper, but Matron and the doctor looked at me a little baffled.

      ‘What’s this?’ the consultant asked as I handed over the newspaper.

      ‘Today’s horoscopes … in the paper?’ I muttered, realising in a split second that I’d just dropped another clanger.

      He tried his best not to laugh but I could see that he was having great difficulty. It was a good job he saw the funny side because Matron’s face looked like thunder – she was absolutely furious with me for showing her up.

      ‘I want to make him better, Nurse, not tell his future!’ the doctor chuckled.

      I felt myself blush as he walked away.

      The night shifts were long and sometimes seemed never-ending. Often, a few of us would wander down to an open-air swimming pool in White City to get a bit of fresh air. One day, I was with two colleagues when a chap named Peter came over to talk to us. He was tallish, around 5 feet 10 inches, with jet-black hair slicked back. He also wore glasses, which I thought made him look terribly sophisticated. He told us he was there with a friend called Bob who had a good job working for an oil company in Kuwait. Peter seemed keen on my friend, a beautiful brunette called ‘Jimmy’ James. I never did find out her Christian name because she insisted that everyone call her ‘Jimmy’ for short. Meanwhile, Bob was sweet on Jo, a blonde, so I was the redheaded gooseberry in between the four lovebirds. One day, Bob asked if we’d like to go to a lido in Ruislip. I wasn’t keen because I knew I’d be the odd one out, but Jimmy and Jo were so excited that I agreed to tag along. However, I soon became bored so I decided to burn the hairs off the legs of the men with a cigarette just to get them to move.

      ‘Ouch!’ Peter said, patting the scorched skin of his leg. It made me smile.

      I wasn’t a total lost cause because I had a sweetheart of my own, an American Air Force photographer called Bill. Mum had a holiday home down