"Ya needed Nurse Mount."
Patsy looked mournfully at her partly eaten shepherd's pie and groaned.
"Really Perkins?" she asked the dishevelled porter, "why?"
"New nurse or summin'" Perkins replied shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, "oh and Tracey's on 'is way up, changed his round."
"Mr Tracey!?" Patsy gasped, and then, as a horrifying thought crossed her mind, added, "the new girl."
Perkins stood watching in astonishment as Patsy began to shovel forkful after forkful of shepherd's pie into her mouth. She then wiped her lips on a napkin before handing Perkins her plate, called "put that back for me," over her shoulder and scampered out of the dining room and up the stairs towards male surgical. Whizzing round the corner, Patsy was confronted by an unfamiliar girl. A pretty girl, Patsy thought, with dark hair and a kind face, adjusting the cap on her head.
"I say! You're not the girl we've borrowed for male surgical?" Patsy asked.
"Yes, I am," the girl replied, "I'm Jenny Lee."
"Patsy Mount" she began, shaking Jenny's hand "I was on late lunch and they had the porter fetch me. Mr Tracey's brought his ward round forward, and there won't be a single patient flying to attention."
"Isn't it visiting time?" Jenny asked, looking at the fob watch on her chest.
"It would appear he's forgotten," Patsy sighed, "or, more likely, he simply doesn't care. This way."
Patsy led Jenny down the corridor and entered the ward. As they entered, she said,
"Give those wheels a kick," kicking one as she did so, "we need to have them all pointing forwards, and there's to be nothing whatsoever on the lockers."
"What about ashtrays?" Jenny asked, hastily moving a collection of objects off a locker beside an elderly man's bed.
"Mr Gillespie!" Patsy scolded, "you know the rules, you can only smoke during visiting hours."
"If I don't smoke, I can't clear my catarrh. I'll end up on the chest ward," complained Mr Gillespie.
"Just make sure you take me when you go," Patsy replied, hopefully.
"Nurse Mount, where's the patient from B?" Jenny asked, kicking Bed B's wheels.
"Khazi," Mr Gillespie replied, "I thought he had the trots, but he says it's the other way around. Even after that suppository."
"I'll give you a suppository if you don't button it!" Patsy warned.
"Any luck?" Mr Gillespie asked a young blonde man as he re-entered the ward.
"I've told you. When I get lucky, I'll come out of there doing a victory roll!"
"Jimmy?" Jenny said.
Patsy looked up from the bed where she had been adjusting the sheets. She stared between the two of them.
"Hello, Jenny," Jimmy replied, "Do you come here often?"
But Jenny did not have time to answer. At that moment a bark of "ward round!" and the flinging open of the ward door announced Mr Tracey's arrival. Patsy and Jenny both sprang to action.
Five o'clock that evening could not come quickly enough for either Jenny or Patsy that evening. As they walked out of the hospital gates into the mild spring evening, Patsy threw the pins out of her hair and shook her head, feeling the breeze ruffle through it. She gave a sigh and said,
"That's always my favourite part of the evening, the moment I can finally let my hair down."
Both girls looked at each other and smiled.
"Are you doing anything tonight?" Patsy continued.
"No," Jenny replied.
"How about a drink?"
"Sounds marvellous," Jenny admitted.
An hour later Patsy and Jenny were sat in The Hand and Shears, a large Scotch in front of the former, a Port and lemon in front of the latter. They had been talking and getting to know each other, but Patsy's earlier curiosity was getting the better of her, and soon she had to ask,
"So, how do you know James Wilson?"
Jenny laughed, "Jimmy and I are old childhood friends, and I've known him as long as I can remember."
Jenny paused and Patsy noticed a slightly wistful look pass across her new friend's face, which, she also noticed, disappeared as soon as Jenny was aware of Patsy's gaze.
"Were you ever…?" Patsy began.
"No," Jenny sighed, "I could never love Jimmy, I…"
"Oh!" Patsy gasped, her eyes widening and her ears pricking up, "why?" she asked, her tone a little more measured.
"I was in love, with a man I could never have," Jenny replied soulfully. Patsy's heart sunk to the pit of her stomach. "Jimmy can only be my friend," Jenny continued in the same tone.
Silence descended for a moment, before Jenny said,
"So are you seeing a chap at the moment?"
"Oh, no, I'm not," Patsy stammered, a little taken aback by the question, but, quickly regaining her composure, quipped "working on male surgical is enough to put you off them for life!"
Jenny burst into laughter and, relieved, Patsy did so too.
"Yes, I bet you've seen a few things in your time!" Jenny replied.
"More than I ever wanted to!" Patsy replied.
The two girls looked at each other and began to laugh again.
Later that night as she lay awake in bed Patsy pondered her day. She had never been in love before, or at least, she did not think she had. Not like Jenny, anyway. She knew the moment she had seen Mr Wilson and her together that there was a connection, a spark. A shared passion that could not be ignited. She had never felt that. Men were a mystery to her. Perhaps she had spent too long on male surgical, seen too much, because men certainly did not make her feel the way Jenny, and the countless other pretty young nurses she had worked with, felt. Was she different? Was she, she shuddered slightly at the thought, an invert? What did that even mean? Why did her heart flutter when Jenny said she could never love Jimmy? Did she notice when she looked at her? Was there something wrong with her?
The next few days passed without too many hitches, though Patsy was aware that Jenny was not settling to hospital work. They had talked about Jenny's life in District Midwifery, and Patsy longed for the freedom which Jenny seemed to have. She longed to escape the drudgery of male surgical, day, after day. On Thursday she was on a late shift, so had decided to take the bus up West to try and clear her head. Strolling through Chelsea, she walked past Robson's the Florist, and a notice in the window caught her attention.
"Vacancies. Apply Within."
"Why not?" she thought, "anything is better than dealing with Tracey."
Mr Robson kindly granted her an interview there and then, and, two hours later as she walked back towards the entrance to The London, she was feeling mightily pleased with herself. Glancing at her watch and, realising she had plenty of time before her shift started, sat down on a bench near the ambulance bay and lit a cigarette. She took a few contented puffs and smiled to herself. It was then she noticed someone walking towards her, and as she got closer, she realised it was Jenny.
"Hello, sweetie! I almost didn't recognise you, out of that beastly uniform. You've been shopping, too!"
"New dress," Jenny replied.
"Going somewhere special?"
"Only out with a friend. On Saturday."
When Jenny elaborated no further, Patsy decided it was best not to pry, so she rapidly changed the subject.
"I've just been for a job interview."
"New hospital?"
"No. At a florist's, in Chelsea. It'll pay a pittance, but at least I won't be spending my time biting my tongue and trying not to wallop people!"
"Do you mean Mr Tracey?" Jenny asked.
"You've been with us for a week and guessed in a trice. I think that speaks volumes," Patsy replied, taking a draw on her cigarette.
"Has anyone ever reported him?"
"He's a surgeon, Jenny! Nobody knows which way he'll turn, we're all tiptoeing about, never able to say what we think, especially not what we think about him. It's as though we're all involved in some gigantic lie. And I'm just not dishonest by nature."
"Nor am I," Jenny replied, "shall we?"
Patsy stamped out the butt of her cigarette and followed Jenny towards the entrance. They walked in silence for a moment before Jenny said,
"Would you really let Mr Tracey drive you to leave nursing?"
Patsy was slightly taken aback by the question and thought about how to phrase an answer for a moment.
"No, but he's making such a good attempt at it that it's getting harder and harder to fight it off."
"There's more to nursing than General Surgery, you've been on that ward two years, why not do something different, something you want to do?"
"Like you do, you mean?"
"Yes, exactly like I do, midwifery is who I am, what I was always meant to do. But Patsy, male surgical is not what you're meant to do, I can tell, you hate it, but you try and hide it behind a façade. But the façade is crumbling."
Jenny's words stirred deep within Patsy. She was right. Of course she was.
"I'd do almost anything to get out of male surgical," Patsy admitted.
"Then do it," Jenny replied.
"You know what, I might just do that!"