CHAPTER 36
There may be a fete, but nothing distracts Grace from her patients! Sorry this is a little later than planned. Work is a bit of a nightmare at the moment. T'was ever thus!
If there was one thing which Grace could not abide, it was a nurse who did not care for her patient's welfare. Sadly, just such an individual had recently joined the team, having been transferred in from Gerrard's Cross Cottage Hospital. Grace hated it when staff were foisted upon her, but when she raised it with Roland, he merely said,
"You are the victim of your own success, my love. They all know that your nurses are trained to the highest standards and that your standards are set at the highest level. That's why they send them to you."
"Well, couldn't you say that we have no requirement for additional nurses?"
"We both know that isn't true, don't we? We're stretched to breaking point some days, especially if staff are off sick or on leave. An extra pair of hands is always helpful."
"I don't agree, Roland. Sometimes a pair of hands may be a hindrance. I'd rather not staff my ward with the unwilling and the incapable."
"Grace! That's a little harsh. Surely everyone deserves a chance to learn from the best, don't they?" His arms had slipped about her and pulled her against his chest at this point and she found herself distracted, as she always did when he raised her mouth to meet his for an all-too brief caress.
"You won't get round me that way. I've grown wise to your tactics, but I do like you to try," Grace said, with a look of amused toleration playing out upon her face.
"I knew we'd agree in the end."
"Not so quick, Colonel. If they repeatedly fail to conform to the standards which I set, I shall have to send them back to their respective hospitals. Can you make that quite clear to your opposite numbers, please, Roland?"
"Message received!" he replied with clear amusement, before resting his chin atop the crisp linen of her head-dress. "It never ceases to amaze me how subtly our roles have reversed. I lost command the moment I first acknowledged my love for you. I'm putty in your hands."
Grace looked at him appraisingly, and replied huskily, "Not as I recall, Colonel Brett, quite the reverse in fact."
The darkening of her eyes and the gentle sway of her body against his quite disarmed him. His response was the only one possible in the circumstances as he pressed her to him and left her in no doubt of the accuracy of her last comment.
Grace had ample cause to regret her moment of weakness. The latest addition to the team was surly, uncooperative and, worse still, uncaring of her charges' welfare. The other nurses had observed this unpleasant trait and two of the older ladies had approached Grace to raise their concerns.
"Thank you for your information. I shall decide on an appropriate course of action." Even as she said the words, Grace knew precisely what course she would pursue. There was only one, in her opinion, and what she saw through her office window confirmed that her assessment was right. Glancing up as she reflected upon the information she had received, Grace watched dumbstruck as Nurse Pettifer shoved young Private Lansbury back against the iron bedhead, his pillows having slipped out of position following his bed-bath. His face briefly tensed in a clear response to pain. Gritting her teeth to suppress her fury at this maltreatment, Grace left her office immediately and advanced to his bedside. Without a word, she eased Private Lansbury forward so that he rested against her, removed the pillows and, after plumping them gently, placed them back into position and helped him back against them.
"Better?" she asked, her expression softening.
"Much better, thank you, Matron," came the reply.
Nurse Pettifer glared at him. "I was just about to do that, Matron."
"Really? I beg to differ."
Grace went to the foot of the young man's bed. She fixed the nurse with a steely glance and removed the clipboard and chart from its storage container.
"Nurse Pettifer, your patient observations are not correctly written up. I would like an explanation, please." Grace's tone was controlled, but there was more than a hint of irritation about it as she faced the younger woman. Phoebe Pettifer appeared to think herself not bound to follow the instructions of her Matron and now, more than ever, with scores of people due to descend on the hospital, Grace required everyone to observe the operational processes, which she had put into place at the West Middlesex, and which were based on years of hard earned experience. In Grace's view order was essential to the smooth functioning of any ward and, with the fete diverting attention, there was even more cause to be alert to the dangers of complacency in compromising patient care. The somewhat insolent look on Nurse Pettifer's face suggested that she did not agree but, in the face of the unwavering gaze of her Matron, even her courage momentarily failed her.
"I'm waiting, Nurse Pettifer or is your silence indicative of there being no reason worth stating?"
Recovering herself, the nurse's expression was surly as she replied, "No, it isn't."
"I believe you have forgotten something, Nurse."
No, it isn't,… Matron." Nurse Pettifer spat out Grace's rank as the other nurses looked on with shock. "I was busy."
"My office now, Nurse Pettifer," Grace said icily, as she turned on her heel, "and close the door after you." Grace stood behind her desk and faced her errant member of staff.
"Busier than any of your colleagues, Nurse? I think not." The exasperation in Grace's voice was unmistakeable.
"That's a matter of opinion," Phoebe Pettifer sniped back.
"The only opinion in which you ought to be interested is mine and I do not share your view."
"Well, that's just too bad because I have got too much to do, Matron. You give me more than the others. I'm always working long after they've stopped and you needn't look so surprised because you know it. You're just picking on me because you don't like me."
Nurse Pettifer's voice had become shrill, carrying far beyond the small office into earshot of the ward beyond. Both staff and patients looked at each other in tacit agreement that Nurse Pettifer's time amongst them might rapidly be drawing to an end. No one appeared surprised by this. In truth, she was distinctly unpopular amongst the other nurses, most of whom felt that she undermined the maintenance of the standards of care to which they were all committed. This was not the first time that Grace had found her authority questioned by the nurse whom she had come to see as a thorn in her flesh and she would not brook such insubordination, particularly when it impacted the wellbeing of patients and the precious team spirit which Grace had worked so hard to develop.
"I do not pick on anyone, Nurse Pettifer, nor do I give you more work than anyone else. The sad fact is that you do not work as hard as the others, hence you are constantly behind in your allotted tasks, and spare me your disrespectful eye-rolling because it is the truth. I do not deal in half measures, Nurse, and yet that is precisely the yardstick, which could be said to best describe your approach to your calling. You disappoint me to a degree I have rarely encountered in any nursing environment before. Tell me, why did you become a nurse, for your performance reveals a lack of aptitude and desire for the role?"
Nurse Pettifer's genie had, by this point, escaped the lamp and her response rattled like a verbal machine gun.
"If you mean why did I choose to be a glorified skivvy, I didn't choose this, who in their right minds would? My parents, miserable idiots that they are, did it to get me away from my friends, but I refuse to stay here a minute longer. I don't want to spend the best years of my life surrounded by sick people, mopping up after them, cleaning out their sores, changing their bedpans. You're right, I've no desire to be a nurse like you and the rest of them. I want to live my life and not end up a barren, dried up, old stick with nothing to show for it except raw skin and wrinkles. I love being a woman and I'm so fed up with having to hide my femininity under this awful uniform. Perhaps you're all frightened of what it's like to be a real woman, of what it's like to be the object of a man's attention, unless he's too ill to be a threat to your virtue, of course. I think you've spent too much time living like men, surrounded by blood and guts, to even remember what being a woman is about. Perhaps all your much vaunted, frontline nursing has made you that way. Whatever it is, I don't want to be like you; I want a man to hold me, to love me and give me children. I don't expect you to understand that; you're far too cold a fish."
Grace was shaken to her core by the attack on her womanhood and that of her nursing team, but she hid her shock, as she always did, beneath a veneer of outward calm.
"In that case, please do not let me detain you any longer. You are formally relieved of your duties, Nurse Pettifer. Please do not expect a reference from me and make sure you return your uniform, freshly laundered and pressed by Monday. I believe the profession will not be the poorer for your leaving. One last thing; never presume to judge the hopes and motivations of others again for you lack the depth of character to do so. Goodbye, Miss Pettifer, oh, and close the door after you, please."
A few seconds later the door slammed and Grace watched as Phoebe Pettifer strutted to the end of the ward and out of her life without a backward glance. The other staff watched her go and, taking their cue from Grace, they returned to their tasks. Grace meanwhile sat down and stared blankly at the patient record, which had started the entire exchange. Collecting her thoughts, she took her pen and completed the missing details. There was no outward sign of discomfort in her demeanour, but deep within Grace felt wounded. Was that how others saw her; dried up, withered on the stem? She hoped not and yet her confidence in her own femininity had been rocked. In that moment, she felt diminished and, despite knowing how ridiculous that was, especially given Roland's clear and unfailing desire for her, she was powerless to alter how she felt. Suddenly, the fete seemed an overwhelming test to be overcome. She would be on display, centre stage but not equipped to look the part. Phoebe Pettifer's words had hit home and at a time when everyone would look their best, Grace would be at the heart of events, but with nothing save her old dress to wear. She knew she ought not to be concerned, but her pride had been dented and she needed to prove to herself and her acid-tongued critic that she was as feminine as any woman and, if she could not do so, then she would wear her uniform, but she had been so looking forward to escaping its confines. She rose from the desk and walked back to replace Private Lansbury's notes, her head swimming, her stomach churning somewhat and her heart beating fast and hard. At that moment, she needed Roland's reassurance that all would be well and so, after a short tour of the ward and having exchanged a few words with each patient and set tasks for the day nurses, she exited the ward and headed for Roland's office. Her head was swimming so much that she felt giddy. Reaching her destination, she knocked at the door and heard his instruction to "Enter". She did so without hesitation and he smiled broadly as he saw her.
"I wasn't expecting you, my love," he said.
"I know; this wasn't on my agenda either, but I had to speak with you." The urgency of her tone alerted him to the fact that something was amiss.
"What is it, Grace?"
Holding her hands tightly clasped before her, Grace stated, "I've dismissed Nurse Pettifer. She was insubordinate and deeply offensive towards me, in addition to being a poor excuse for a nurse."
"I see. Sit down and tell me what happened. Take your time, sweetheart, I can see that this encounter has left you shaken."
Grace did as Roland suggested and poured out what had just occurred. By the time she had finished, her words carried an emotional charge and Roland could see her clear distress.
"Grace, you're the most amazing woman I have ever met. Others pale into insignificance compared to you. Mary would say the same, I know. And as for being dried up, my goodness, you of all people knows how untrue that is."
"Roland, I have no children and no signs of any despite discovering a joy in making love with you which overwhelms me. I fear that I may be past my prime and will never know what it is to be a mother to your child. I didn't want anyone to look at me with pity. I wanted to look my best, for me and for you. I wanted you to look at me and want me as you never have before. I wanted people to see the woman, not the matron, just for once, but we never made it to London. I'm not going to look drab so I'll wear my uniform and my medals instead. No one can pity me with those on."
Grace's throat had tightened as she fought back tears but they escaped from beneath lowered lashes nonetheless and Roland's defences broke. He could not see her weep and so he said to her,
"You and I are going to have an early lunch. Calm yourself and get your things. I promise you, Grace, things will be alright. Trust me."
"I don't see how, but very well."
He soothed her tears away and stroked her face, kissing her lightly wherever his fingers alighted until she was ready to go back to the ward to collect what she needed. Some minutes later they were advancing towards the car when Grace spotted Mary coming in the opposite direction to meet them.
"Hello, Mary. Is all well?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing. I hear you've let that nasty little madam upset you. You are silly, Grace. Anyway, I'm going to make lunch for you and talk some sense into that head of yours. Come on, you two."
Roland caught Mary's eye and smiled as he helped her into the car followed by a slightly happier looking Grace. The journey home was punctuated by yet more of Mary's homespun common sense approach to life and love. Grace listened and tried to accept the advice, which she knew was well meant, but it was hard. She had real concerns that the child she longed to have, with the man she adored, might never be conceived.
"Go upstairs, Grace, and wash your face. Salt is not good for the complexion," Mary said, turning to Roland as if for tacit support, which he was swift to offer. As Grace's footsteps disappeared upstairs, Roland gestured to Mary to follow him to the kitchen.
"I know it was meant to be a surprise but it's all gone wrong, Mary. That wretched nurse has filled Grace's head with such poison and I can't watch her suffer unnecessarily, knowing that I have the means to make her feel a little better."
"As it happens, I agree with you. You go upstairs and sort her out. I'll pop up with my sewing things when you call for me. I'll make us all a cup of tea and a sandwich. Go on, off with you, Colonel. How you ever manage that hospital is a mystery because where Grace is concerned, you seem transfixed."
"It's love, Mrs A, it's love," he replied with a grin.
Mary raised her eyebrows and said, "Hopeless cases, both of you."
In a second, Roland was bounding up the stairs and almost cannoned into Grace on the landing.
"Go back in."
"Mary's waiting."
"She knows I'll be a minute or two. Come on, Grace."
She frowned slightly at him but did as he bade.
"Sit down on the bed and close your eyes."
"Roland, no! Not with Mary downstairs."
Leading her to the bed, he made her comfortable. "Don't worry, it's not what you think. Close your eyes."
She finally did so and he quietly opened his wardrobe, retrieving the package which he had secreted away only a short while ago and closing the door.
"There you are; a little something from me."
"Roland, I don't need presents."
"Don't say anything. Just open it."
Grace got up and placed the parcel on the bed, unfastening the string ties and pushing back the paper wrappings to reveal a neatly folded oblong of layered lavender chiffon. Grace lifted the material and shook it out to reveal a contrasting edge of embroidered pansies around the neckline and sleeve edges. Underneath was a belt of similarly embellished fabric, made to drape across her hips. The whole garment took her breath away and she turned disbelievingly towards her lover, her lips apart but no sound issuing forth, as she realised what he had done.
"It's beautiful; I absolutely love it."
More very soon…I promise! xx