Clinical Judgements Page 4

  ‘I can’t think why that ugly bitch is so hateful,’ she said. ‘I mean, what have we done to her to make her that way? Never got a decent word for anyone.’

  ‘Ask Peter. They’ve put him on the Psychiatric Unit, you know. He was really scared when they said that. For two pins he’d have cut and run, I swear to you. Thought I was getting the better end of the stick. He should just know. I swear to you I’ve never seen so much pee in all my life.’

  ‘You’ll see more,’ Sian said. ‘What about you, Suba? Where are you?’

  ‘Gynae,’ Suba said almost in a whisper and then, bravely, tried again, more loudly. ‘Gynae. It’s ever so busy. There were operations all morning. I had to make the beds ready, you know — the operation beds they showed us? And then help lift the patients on when they came back from theatre and make sure they were comfortable. I was with one of the other nurses all the time though. Not on my own. She’s ever so nice. She’s in her second year, ever so senior, and really nice to me, she was. Wants me to join her group.’ It was a long speech for Suba, and she was pleased with herself for managing it. But the morning had been exciting and interesting, not alarming, and telling these familiar faces about it all felt good.

  ‘Group? What group?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Suba said. ‘She said she’d tell me later, because Sister came along and Shirley — that was this second year — she said be quiet till after, so I did. But it was nice of her to be so friendly, wasn’t it? I mean, to someone so new —’

  ‘That’s the trouble with this place,’ Sian said sharply. ‘They all think they’re doing you some sort of bloody big favour just talking to you, because you’re new. As though we’re scum because we’ve only just started! They were new once, for God’s sake. It doesn’t give them the right to push us around, does it? I called the Sister Esther this morning.’ She laughed, pleased with herself. ‘It really gets up my nose, all that stuff. Either we’re a bloody team the way they said at lectures, or we’re not. I may be new but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid, does it? Or unimportant.’

  ‘What did she say?’ David leaned forwards, agog. ‘Did she come on like the Pawn, all ruffles and dignity, or just swipe you?’

  ‘I’m not sure she heard it was me,’ Sian admitted. ‘There were a lot of people around at the time, and she might have thought it was the staff nurse. All the same, begin as you mean to go on, that’s the thing.’

  ‘Is it so important?’ Suba was getting braver by the minute.

  ‘Of course it is! It’s principle, isn’t it? Treating people fairly and equally and so forth —’ Sian began, but David laughed.

  ‘You’re getting too political, you are. Joining the Union you’ll be, next thing we hear.’

  ‘I already have,’ Sian said shortly and got to her feet. ‘Did it the first week I was in Introductory, so there. And it wouldn’t hurt you to do the same, either. We’ve got to stick together to get any sort of fair deal —’

  ‘Well, we got the raise, didn’t we, without any strike? So what are you on about?’

  ‘It was because the Unions threatened to strike!’ Sian said hotly. ‘And because the bloody Government saw how mad people were. If it hadn’t been for that poncing lot at the Royal College we’d have had a strike, and got the raise sooner, and got it bigger. But just you wait, they’ll get at us again, you just see. And then you’ll be glad there is a Union, and you’ll be pleased enough to get what we fight for for you.’

  David got to his feet. ‘Not me, love. I couldn’t care less about bloody Unions. I’m here to train, so as to get out as fast as I can and make a decent living. I’ll go private, you see if I don’t. And bugger the Unions. See you later, then.’ He turned to go. ‘There’s another few gallons of Gawd knows what waiting my care down on Male Med. If you see Peter, be nice to him. He’ll probably be foaming at the mouth by this time.’

  ‘Would you join, Suba?’ Suba too had got to her feet and she stood uncomfortably trying not to meet Sian’s stare. She’d been so nice to her, and it seemed ungrateful not to do what she wanted. But joining the Union — Daddy had been on about that, after he’d seen the nurses on television when the march was on.

  ‘Look at them!’ he’d said disgustedly. ‘Shrieking and making such exhibitions of themselves, and so messy looking … If any girl of mine behaves so I will disown her, and remember that, Suba. Disown her.’

  It had been easy to promise Daddy she wouldn’t join any Unions because it was the last thing she wanted to do, go marching and shouting. Just to be a nurse, that was the only thing she wanted, to look after people in hospitals, the only thing she’d ever wanted, ever since she’d broken her wrist when she was little and been in hospital herself. So she could easily promise Daddy not to join any marching Union. But it wasn’t so easy to say that to this very direct person who was still staring so hard at her.

  ‘I —’ Suba began. ‘I’m not sure what I’m going to join. I mean there was that second-year this morning, Shirley, and her group — maybe she meant a Union?’ I’m not being honest, she thought miserably. But I’ve got to say something. ‘Let me find out what that’s about first and then I’ll see —’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Sian said after a moment, and to Suba’s great relief got to her feet to go. ‘As long as you don’t go on like the rest of these idiots and ignore things. People like David make me really mad — private work, for God’s sake. Nothing but bloody money, that’s all his sort care about — well, he’ll soon find out. Just you wait and see. He’ll find out there’s more that matters in this job than money.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Suba said fervently and went trotting away from the dining room in Sian’s wake, glad to be going back to the simplicities of working on the ward. It would all be so much easier, she thought, if she could just be working all the time and never had to talk to anyone, not Daddy or anyone, or think about anything. So very much easier.

  Sian was still talking busily to Suba who scurried along obediently behind her as they passed the Admissions office on the ground floor of the main ward block, and Ida Malone, sitting waiting outside, watched them and thought — I used to look like that fair one, once. And she tried to imagine herself in a pink nylon dress with a scrap of a cap on her head, and couldn’t. When she’d been that age, she’d been into mini-skirts and thick false eyelashes and dangly earrings; she could never have gone around with a shaven head like this girl; pointed sideboards and a geometric fringe, that was her thing, and she found herself grinning inanely as she stared back down twenty years at the silly giddy girl she’d been. Working in a hairdresser’s shop, loaded with money, what had she cared about the future and a career? Not a damn, and she felt the ready tears slide up into her throat again as regret came pouring up.

  If she’d had a career it wouldn’t have mattered so much, not having a baby. She’d have had something else to do, something to think about. But it was too late now. All these years trying to get pregnant, all these years staying at home to take care of herself because that was what Tony wanted her to do, to have a baby, and then the two miscarriages and — and she reached into her pocket for a handkerchief to blow her now congested nose and thought bitterly about the way these bloody hospitals kept you waiting. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t fair to treat you like you were nothing, just because you had a problem like this. And it wasn’t fair she’d had to wait so long to get in to be looked after at all. Five years ago she’d started on this bloody seesaw, trying first of all to find out if she ovulated and then trying to work out the best time to do it, until Tony said he felt like a fucking machine already and went right off his oats. And then all the fiddling around they’d done and still it had got them nowhere, and now at last she was here to be done properly, and what did they do? Kept her waiting in the hall outside their damned Admissions office, like some sort of spare. Oh, she’d tell them, just see what she’d tell them, snotty bitches, when they came to fetch her, she’d have a thing or two to say to them.

  The door to t
he Admissions office opened and a woman put her head out and said peremptorily, ‘Next please,’ and obediently Ida got up and went in, bobbing her head a little obsequiously as she went.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ the woman said loudly, clearly not sorry at all. ‘Went to lunch late. Some people have no consideration, never come back on time —’ and she shot a venemous glance at the woman at the next desk. ‘Let me see — you’re Mrs Ida Malone? In for investigation, sub-fertility —’

  ‘Yes,’ Ida murmured, very aware of the man sitting in the next cubicle and being talked at by the other admissions clerk, who was studiously ignoring her colleague. ‘And I would like to know if —’

  ‘You’ll have to ask all your questions when you get to the ward,’ the woman said, ‘that’s not my job,’ and pulled a folder over towards her. ‘Now, first things first. I’ll want your full name and address, and then religion, name of GP and date of birth, next of kin —’

  The man in the next cubicle was sent on his way as Ida’s clerk muttered over her entries, and his place was taken by another woman, and Ida looked sideways at her, wondering. Was she to come to the same ward? It sounded as though the clerk had said ‘Gynae’ to her, but her voice had been much lower and harder to hear. Ida hoped so, it would be nice to have someone to go up there with, a sort of friend before she got there, as it were, and she peered at the other woman’s face as her own clerk, still muttering, went to look for her outpatient notes to add to her inpatient folder. The other woman caught her eye and Ida tried a small smile, not a grin, that would be too much, just a sort of break in her face to show this other woman she was approachable.

  But the other woman just stared at her with round blank eyes and then glanced away and Ida thought — Snotty bitch. Wouldn’t have hurt her to look a bit more cheerful, even if she is coming in here. I’m coming in here too and I’m not sitting looking like a lost weekend, whatever I might be feeling like. And she turned back to answer the clerk’s next flurry of questions, determined to ignore her companion, even though she now knew she was in fact going to the same ward, for her clerk had spoken more loudly this time. Miserable bitch; well, let her be. Ida didn’t care. She could manage nicely on her own, thank you.

  ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t mind going up together,’ her own clerk said loudly. ‘They’re too short of nurses to send down to fetch you, and we really haven’t the time to go traipsing all over the building. You’re both for Annie Zunz, that’s on the third floor. Take the lift at the end of the corridor, turn left when you get out, give this slip to the senior nurse on duty, and tell her I’ll send the notes up when I can find a porter or she’s ready to send someone down to get them —’

  ‘I’ll take them if you like,’ Ida said, smiling ingratiatingly, but the clerk pulled the folders towards her possessively and said sharply, ‘Confidential documents. They’ll go up after. Now then, Mrs Walton, you’re on the list for tomorrow it says here, so remind them, will you, that you can’t eat anything tonight. They should know, but these nurses — well, it’s possible the notes won’t get up there in time, so you be sure to tell them. Next please!’ And the two women were sent out of the door and on their way to the lift too quickly for anything further to be said.

  They were the only people in it, and they stood each side of the shabby cube as it rattled its way upwards and stared in silence at the indicator lights flashing as they reached each floor; until the doors opened and the other woman said to Ida, ‘Is this the right floor?’ in a husky cracked sort of voice and Ida said eagerly, ‘Yes, this is it. Annie Zunz, see the name? It’s a funny name, isn’t it, for a ward? I wonder where it comes from?’

  The other woman said nothing, just lifting a brow slightly and after a moment Ida said as huffily as she dared, ‘Well I just thought to ask. Sorry, I’m sure, to —’

  Mrs Walton looked at her and then tried to smile. ‘Sorry if I was rude. Didn’t mean to be. Don’t feel too good, to tell the truth, and I was worried about the kids —’

  It happened so quickly that Ida felt sick; that rush of icy coldness that filled her when other women spoke of their children. It wasn’t fair, it was so wicked of them to do it. Why did they always dig at you that way, reminding you how special they were and how useless you were? Wasn’t it bad enough she, Ida, had to be coming into a hospital about it, without having someone have a go at her about what she couldn’t help? And what was she doing here anyway, this other woman, if she had kids? She ought to be told, the selfish bitch, ought to be made to see how wrong it was to hurt other people that way —

  ‘Oh, I am sorry,’ Ida said. ‘You don’t look too well, now I come to see — I didn’t mean to —’

  They were out of the lift now and walking in the direction of the signs to Annie Zunz.

  ‘Well, you know how it is. I do nothin’ but throw up all the time — not kept anything down for weeks. Call it morning sickness they do, say it’s over in three months, but I know different. It was the same last time, sick all day and every day. Right up till she was born, so it was, only a few months I was all right really — What about you? D’you get the same?’

  I hate you. I want to kill you. I hate you, Ida thought. You bitch, you lousy bitch — ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I’m not — I mean, no.’

  ‘Oh,’ Mrs Walton said. ‘Well, I suppose you’re just lucky then.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ida said. Oh, God, I wish you were dead. I hope you die, you and your bloody children too. I hate you, I hate you. ‘I suppose I am.’

  The big double doors that led to the ward whispered open and a nurse came out and, seeing them, held the door invitingly open. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked and seemed to mean it.

  ‘I’m here for an operation tomorrow,’ Mrs Walton said. ‘They said to tell you I’m on the list for tomorrow and I’m not to eat tonight, the notes are coming up later —’ Suddenly she put one hand to her mouth and went pushing past the nurse into the ward, shoving Ida to one side too.

  ‘Feel sick,’ she mumbled, and the nurse ran after her and set one arm over her shoulders and half led her, half pushed her into the lavatory that led off the left-hand side, leaving Ida standing with her small case clutched in her hand, outside the main doors and not knowing quite what to do. But after a moment she took a deep breath and pushed the doors open and went in, and stood waiting for someone to tell her what to do. The nurse, who came back to find her, having led a now very shaky Mrs Walton into the ward, smiled at her, seeing the bent shoulders and the defeated expression on her face and, feeling sorry for her, led her into the ward too.

  ‘We’ll soon get you settled, my dear,’ she said, all professional heartiness and classroom assurance. ‘No need to look so worried. It’s all going to be fine, I do promise you.’

  And Ida smiled back at her and thought — Stupid bitch. How does she know it’s all going to be fine? No one does. It can’t be. It never has before, has it? So why should it be this time? I wish they were all dead, all the hateful bitches; I wish everyone was dead, me and Tony too.

  But all she did was smile politely and follow the nurse to a bed.

  Chapter Four

  They were, Audrey conceded, quite nice, considering. At least they had made an effort to show Joe he was welcome on the ward, and that helped a lot. And, what was more, they were nice to her too. None of the way it used to be with that ‘You wait outside Mrs Slater, we’ll call you if you’re needed Mrs Slater, and keep out of the way, we’re busy, Mrs Slater’ stuff that used to make her so mad. Now they treated her properly and she felt the ice inside her melt a little as the round-faced nurse with the rather bushy curly hair bobbed her head at her and grinned and said, ‘We’ll show your husband to his bed, Mrs Slater, and then see about a nice cuppa for both of you —’

  But then as she followed the nurse along the ward the ice came back, colder than ever. Back in the early days of his illness, two years ago when they’d all been so offhand with her and getting anyone to pay any attention had been so hard, no one
had known how ill Joe was. Now, having them all being so kind underlined it, and she felt suddenly bitterly alone as she walked along behind them, watching Joe’s feet dragging a little on the floor as he walked, because he was so tired. I hate you, she thought with sudden fury. I hate you Joe, doing this to me — and felt sick with the pain of such wickedness. She’d need that cup of tea, she told herself as the curtains rattled around Joe’s corner bed, need it real bad when she got it. And she began to unpack the little case she had brought for him. Being busy, that was the thing.

  The cup of tea duly arrived, brought by a young man in a white tunic and trousers, and Audrey looked up at him suspiciously and then peered at the label badge pinned on his chest. ‘David who?’

  ‘Engell,’ the boy said and smiled at her a little shyly. ‘I’m the nurse who’s going to help get Mr Slater settled.’ He sounded pleased with himself, and put the tea down on the bedside table and went round to Joe’s other side to help him take off his shoes.

  ‘No need for that,’ Audrey said sharply. ‘We can manage well enough,’ and she pushed past the boy to kneel in front of Joe and began to untie his shoes. ‘Ta for the tea and all, but we’ll manage fine. Joe likes me to do things for him, don’t you, Joe? We’ll call you when we’re done —’

  The boy hesitated and then went away, his expression a little hangdog, and Joe said, ‘Hey, you don’t have to be so sharp with the boy, Audrey. He meant no harm.’

  ‘Yes, well,’ Audrey said, her head down as she took off the shoes and then the socks. ‘I can’t be doing with them and that’s the truth of it — men nurses, I ask you! All nancy boys, I dare say. What sort of a chap does a job like that?’