Summary: Nurse Training School - The London Hospital
Disclaimer: Call The Midwife belongs to the BBC and others - I am simply borrowing their wonderful characters.
Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay in updating this. It's been a difficult few weeks. Anyway, Heartfelt thanks to Sittingonthis for really making me push myself, and to Jlynsca for her editing skills.
Enjoy...
Patsy and Delia found themselves in a relatively comfortable routine for the next few months. While on their ward placements, they tried their best to synchronise days off. There were several further visits to Streatham Ice Rink as Delia was determined to improve her skating skills and they celebrated at the Rink cafe with hot chocolate and sausage rolls when she mastered skating backwards.
The shadow of secrecy for their relationship became the norm. They established a routine that was a comfort to them, although they both craved more.
Patsy was posted to the Psychiatry Department for her next placement. She was nervous as this was a whole different sort of nursing, but she was determined to step up to the challenge. Delia was placed in Paediatrics.
Within days of the placement starting, Patsy began to question herself and her ability. Psychiatric nursing was not about cleanliness, order and discipline and Patsy found that her usually reliable skills for getting things done now felt woefully inadequate.
Patsy couldn't imagine what it was like to be on the ward here. Some of the women had attempted suicide, and would try and stockpile their medication in order to try again. Patsy had been specifically warned about their behaviour. There was another woman on the ward that had been abused, although the details were alarmingly vague.
"Come along, Georgina, it's time for your medication," Patsy advised the frightened looking woman in the day room. The Matron had despatched her on the lunchtime drugs round. The first two women had passively taken their tablets and Patsy had waited and watched them swallow the pills, checking their mouths to ensure that they had indeed been ingested.
This patient was a young mother whose baby had been taken into care through neglect. As Patsy surveyed her carefully, she realised that the girl was barely an adult and looked incapable of looking after herself, let alone an infant.
"I don't want it. I can't think when I take it," Georgina protested, her voice a harsh whisper.
"I'm sorry, but there isn't a choice. It will make you better," Patsy reasoned logically.
"It doesn't make me feel better," the girl objected more vehemently, pushing back her chair forcefully as she stood up. She was small and fragile looking and Patsy didn't feel threatened at all by the move.
"These things take time. We're all here to help you," Patsy told her softly, keeping her tone neutral, but wanting to engage with the girl. She looked absolutely petrified as her eyes darted nervously around the room.
Patsy took a step closer. "You're very anxious. This will help," she tried, her voice trying to coax her gently.
Georgina backed away, still unable to look Patsy in the eye.
Patsy's inexperience led to her mistake. "Don't you want to get better?"
The girl's eyes suddenly stopped and she stared at her balefully. "Get better? What for? I've got nothing left. Nothing!" With that, the girl began to knock her head back against the wall, each blow landing more forcefully than the last.
Patsy panicked and stepped forward, trying to grab Georgina by the arms and get her away from the wall. She was unbelievably strong, however, and she easily pulled away from Patsy's grip in order to continue pummelling the wall with her head. Patsy's stomach turned as she saw blood begin to stain the wall.
Fortunately, another nurse came to Patsy's rescue and they managed to restrain the woman until a doctor arrived with a sedative.
Patsy had never felt more useless as she wordlessly received a dressing down from the Ward Sister, advising her to avoid talk about the patients' personal issues. The therapists were there to deal with that. She meekly acquiesced and agonised endlessly over how she could have done things differently.
Patsy found dealing with the male patients worse. There were a number of men being treated for being homosexual. Others were suffering with disorders including mania and psychosis. Seeing them lurch from aggressively intimidating behaviour to being chemically subdued and lethargic, disturbed Patsy, even though she knew that the treatment was necessary.
Despite the warning not to engage with personal business, Patsy couldn't help but talk with the patients if they started a conversation with her.
"Do I disgust you, Nurse?" James asked suddenly. Patsy had sat with him during his therapy session with the psychiatrist as part of her learning. She was now escorting him back to the common room.
"Not at all," Patsy stated firmly. "Why would you think that?"
"I saw your face while I was talking." James looked down. "I understand. I disgust myself."
Patsy felt her heart clench. James' session had consisted of an endless circle of conversation regarding his deviant, illegal and unacceptable feelings for other men. She rather suspected she had been unable to mask her feelings about the so-called care the psychiatrist was providing. It sounded like sheer indoctrination to her. "What do you mean?"
"I volunteered to take the tablets. I volunteered to come in here. They told me that it would cure me," he confided, stammering slightly. He risked a quick glance at Patsy before continuing. "I shouldn't be having these feelings. It's wrong."
Patsy couldn't help herself. "Does it feel wrong to you?"
"Doesn't matter how it feels. It is what it is," James shrugged in reply. He swallowed nervously. "I saw that look in your eyes. You know it's disgusting, too."
"I don't think that at all," Patsy objected. She paused. "I don't think people have the right to judge, if I'm honest."
"But it's illegal," James pointed out. "We judge those that murder. It's the same principle," he insisted.
Patsy closed her eyes as she swallowed a wave of nausea. "What harm is it doing?" She asked.
"It's wrong," James insisted. He shuffled along for a bit longer, agitation clearly showing. As they reached the common room he stopped and looked at Patsy again. "They told me that doing this treatment would cure me," he repeated. "But they were wrong."
"What?" Patsy didn't quite follow.
"It stops the physical urges," he admitted. He swallowed and blinked suddenly. "But it doesn't stop the feelings." With that, he turned suddenly and left Patsy to stare after him morosely.
After that interaction, Patsy did everything she could to avoid dealing with those being treated for homosexuality. But it did nothing for her own esteem. She found herself questioning how appropriate her feelings for Delia were. That became torturous in itself.
Patsy knew that she loved Delia. She knew that it didn't feel wrong when they were together and she was absolutely certain that she could never experience that intensity of feelings with a man. She simply wasn't attracted to them in the same way. However, those emotions not feeling wrong did not make it right.
Patsy began to second guess herself when she was on the ward. What if the medical profession suddenly decided that they should cure homosexual women? Would they somehow know that Patsy was one? Would Patsy want the treatment in the same way James wanted it? That thought shook her to the core, or more accurately, the fact that she didn't dismiss it instantly rocked her.
"What's bothering you?" Delia asked as she took a sip of tea. They were in Benny's cafe, having breakfast before the start of Patsy's shift. Her hours were predominantly 9-5 with only a few late shifts to assist the skeleton evening staff. Student nurses weren't allowed to work night shifts in Psychiatry.
"Nothing really," Patsy deflected instinctively.
Delia simply raised an eyebrow and waited.
"I hate not being good at something," Patsy finally admitted.
Delia frowned at the admission. "We all have to learn new things, Pats. And we can't be good at them immediately."
"You seem to be blossoming on Paediatrics," Patsy pointed out.
Delia was excelling in her placement. Her sunny disposition and naturally curious nature was perfect for the children on the ward who saw her not as a grown up nurse to be scared of, but almost as one of them. Delia encouraged them to make camps out of their beds, if they were well enough, and ensured that those who could not leave bed were also entertained. She wilfully ignored the Matron's insistence that the children should not be overstimulated and instead, invented games that they all joined in with. Delia was the children's ally. They insisted that she was there when something scary was going to happen, and Delia's room quickly became decorated with a myriad of pictures created especially for her.
The brunette laughed. "If you ask the little ones, they'll say I'm brilliant. Matron Farmer, however, has a rather different opinion. I've already had one note put on my file for disobedience."
Patsy's eyes widened in shock. "You don't sound upset by it."
Delia shook her head firmly. "It's a small price to pay to cheer up those children. Some of them are desperately unwell." She stopped suddenly, thinking of a couple of patients who had a very poor prognosis.
Patsy smiled softly. "It should have been obvious that you would do well on the Children's Ward."
Delia grinned back. "Why? Because I am one myself?"
Patsy nodded. "Exactly." She sighed. "I just wish I could find a way to relate to my patients."
The Welsh nurse grimaced. "You can't compare the two. The whole reason those patients are there is because they are mentally unstable."
"Not all of them," Patsy demurred.
"Go on," Delia urged.
Patsy shifted uncomfortably and glanced around the cafe before telling Delia about James.
"That's horrible," Delia declared when the blonde nurse finished.
"I know. He's just this hollow shadow." Patsy hesitated before admitting what was really bothering her. "I've managed to avoid working with any of the others since."
Delia was shocked. "Why? If anyone..." She stopped when Patsy looked at her sharply.
"That's exactly why. How can I be part of that 'treatment'? It feels like I'm condoning it if I'm part of it."
Delia looked at Patsy carefully. "You're not the one giving them the drugs. But you can be there so that they have someone to talk to. Give them an understanding ear and listen to their fears."
"I'm not sure I can do that either," Patsy admitted, looking into her coffee mug.
Delia was having trouble following the conversation. "What do you mean?"
Patsy shrugged noncommittally but didn't answer.
Delia narrowed her eyes as she scrutinised Patsy's body language. "Please don't tell me that you think they ought to be treated like that," she begged.
"No," Patsy responded instantly. "It's barbaric."
"But..." Delia prompted again.
There was a long pause while Patsy searched for the right words. She wasn't sure there were any. "But perhaps they should be helped," she suggested finally, wincing as she heard the words she spoke out loud.
"Helped?" Delia's voice was a harsh whisper and Patsy's eyes shot up from where she had been staring into her mug. Delia looked a mixture of hurt, betrayed and angry.
"Do you still think that what we're doing is wrong?"
"It is wrong," Patsy pointed out, obliviously pouring oil on the fire. "Why else would we keep it secret?"
Delia's eyes filled with tears but she was determined not to cry. "So I'm wrong to feel the way I do about you," she stated flatly.
"No!" Patsy objected vehemently. "I didn't mean it like that." She winced as she looked around the cafe. "We can't discuss this here, and I need to get changed for work. Can we talk about this later?"
"I finish at 10 tonight. Will you still be up?" Delia's voice was little more than a strangled whisper.
"Yes." Patsy sighed. "Delia, I am sorry. I am using all the wrong words to say all the wrong things. You know what I'm like."
Delia looked at Patsy sullenly. "I know we need to talk," she replied ominously.
Patsy nodded as she stood up. "I need to get going."
Delia stood up and reached for her bag. "Go ahead. I'll pay the bill. See you later Patsy." The diminutive nurse sounded defeated.
Patsy wanted to reach out and comfort Delia with a touch, but she couldn't take that risk in public. With a regretful sigh, she slipped on her coat and hurried out of the cafe.
As Patsy trudged wearily back to the Nurses Home, she couldn't help but mentally review her day. The final words she had shared with Delia weighed heavily on her mind. She was just grateful that she had a few hours before Delia finished her shift so that she could at least try and rehearse what she wanted to say. She did not want to hurt her again.
As she stepped into the Nurses Home, Patsy started when the Bursar stepped out from her office. "Nurse Mount. I've been waiting for you."
Patsy frowned. "Waiting for me? What's happened?" Patsy had barely spoken two sentences to the Bursar in all the time she had resided at the Nurses Home.
"Yes. I'm moving you to another room," the Bursar continued officiously.
"What?" Patsy's eyes widened in disbelief. "Why?"
The Bursar looked up and down at Patsy before answering. "It's been reported that you have been breaking curfew." She sniffed haughtily. "After discussion, it was decided that the most appropriate course of action would be to relocate you to another area of the Nurses Home."
"Discussed with whom?" Patsy could feel a ball of fear form deep inside her, but she was also angry.
"The Training School Matron made quite the case for you." The Bursar sounded distinctly aggrieved by that.
"So you've just listened to an accusation and not even spoken to me about it?" Patsy was indignant.
The Bursar shrugged and set off up the stairs. "Come along. I need to escort you to your new room."
Patsy hurried after the older woman. "This isn't fair. You have no right to move me like this," she protested.
"Oh, I have every right, Nurse Mount. Just be grateful that I'm allowing you to pack your things and transfer them to another room. If I had my way you would both be packing your things and leaving the London for good." The Bursar was scathing.
Patsy went cold. Delia was clearly implicated in this too. Her heart pounded suddenly. What was going to happen to her? "Am I the only one moving?" She asked eventually, as they strode along the corridor towards her room.
"Yes. Don't worry. I'm not putting anyone in your room. It will remain empty for the remainder of the term." She glanced back at Patsy before continuing to Patsy's room. "Perhaps that will work as a barrier to protect the other residents," she mused spitefully.
Patsy bit down on a retort and instead stepped past the Bursar in order to open her room. "I'll need some time to pack my things."
"I'll wait," the Bursar replied coldly.
Patsy felt a trickle of sweat run down her spine. She had no idea if any of the other nurses were back from their shifts yet. She fervently hoped not. Witnessing her move would fuel the gossip beyond anything she could cope with.
Defeated, Patsy located her suitcases and lay them on her bed. Her first impulse was to throw everything in haphazardly in order to be as quick as possible, but Patsy decided that if the Bursar was going to wait and supervise, then she would take her time and pack carefully.
As she folded her clothes neatly and surveyed the rest of her belongings, Patsy realised that it wouldn't take her long to pack anyway. She had always lived sparsely. There was just one box that contained items that were irreplaceable. She carefully placed it in one suitcase and packed her text books and a folder of stationery around it, before tucking one of her jackets over the top.
The other case held clothes, shoes and toiletries. As Patsy surveyed her room, she realised that she had never really personalised it in the way Delia had with hers.
Patsy's heart lurched as she realised that Delia would be returning to her room without knowing what had happened to Patsy.
Quickly retrieving a pen and notepad, Patsy straightened and approached the Bursar determinedly. "I need to leave Delia a note."
"I don't think so," the Bursar replied reflexively.
"She won't know what's happened. She'll be worried."
"She'll find out soon enough."
Patsy jutted out her chin determinedly. "I really don't care what you think of me, or what you think I may have done, but Delia is my best friend. I will not have her worry unnecessarily."
The Bursar narrowed her eyes at the young nurse. "All right," she allowed eventually.
Patsy knew that there was every possibility that the Bursar would return to Delia's room in order to read the note. There was no way Patsy would be able to write what she really wanted to, but anything was better than nothing. With a slightly shaky script, Patsy simply told Delia that there was a problem with her room and that she had been relocated and that she was not to worry.
The Bursar pursed her lips disapprovingly as she waited for Patsy to slip the note under Delia's door. "Follow me," she directed, turning on her heel and walking smartly back down the corridor.
Patsy picked up her suitcases and sighed. She walked slowly for a few moments as she considered her predicament but realised that she needed to pick up the pace or the Bursar would disappear off without her. While a small part of her mutinously wanted to do exactly that, Patsy also knew that the Bursar wouldn't care and leave Patsy stranded without a room. She would have to track her down eventually and Patsy was convinced that the humiliation wouldn't be worth it.
The Bursar led Patsy to a section of the Nurses Home that was just about as far away from Patsy's original room as could be. It was obvious why. She was in a room in the middle of the corridor, and before she even entered, Patsy felt that she had lost her privacy.
When the door swung open, Patsy's loss felt more acute. Despite the room being ostensibly the same as her old one, it was grey and lifeless, with the striped mattress exposed and blankets and sheets folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Patsy bit her lip as she recalled meeting Delia for the first time and helping her make her bed. She would not give the Bursar the satisfaction of seeing her upset however. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Will you be waiting while I unpack?" She asked, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm from her voice.
The Bursar sniffed dismissively. "I don't think there's any need for that." She turned to walk away. "Any further infractions regarding curfew will not be dealt with so leniently," she advised as she departed.
Patsy resisted the urge to slam the door shut, and instead closed it as quietly as possible. She could feel tears prickling at her eyes as she stared at her new home. She had just been unceremoniously removed from a room that held some of her most cherished memories.
It would do no good feeling sorry for herself. She located the nearest cleaner's cupboard and found a carpet sweeper, bucket and bleach. With a heavy heart, she returned to the room in order to at least get it acceptably clean before she unpacked her cases.
It was only when she finished placing the last of her belongings away in a spotlessly clean room that the reality of the situation came crashing down on Patsy. The new room felt sterile and cold. It might hold the same contents as every other room in the Nurses Home but it felt different.
Blindly, Patsy grabbed her 'door book' and held it to her chest as she lay on the bed and gave in to her emotions. Something had happened which was enough to prompt the Training team to attempt to separate her from Delia, but wasn't enough to lead to instant dismissal. Patsy wondered if it was simply one too many evening spent in each others' rooms that had finally garnered attention. All the nurses had close friends. In that respect, she and Delia were no different to the rest of their intake. Perhaps there was talk of the amount of time they spent together at weekends, given that neither of them travelled home much.
Her privacy had been invaded, and her attempts at secrecy were once again revealed to be not good enough to protect her or Delia. In addition, her placement in Psychiatry was making her feel vulnerable and exposed both as a nurse and as a person.
The maelstrom of emotions Patsy was feeling simply fuelled multiple circular questions and the inability to make a decision and do something. The blonde nurse knew that she was wallowing in self-pity. But she didn't know how to break free from her fretting. She knew that talking to Delia would help calm her down and rationalise things, but Patsy didn't know if she should. For the first time since they had really talked and decided to embark on a relationship, Patsy wondered if it might be wiser to break up.
Delia's shift ended badly. Little Rosie Connor had died, her cystic fibrosis finally collapsing her lungs beyond use. It had not been easy either. She was a tough little girl and had fought for every breath. Knowing that Delia had built a special relationship with the little girl and her family, Matron Farmer had allowed her to stay with them until the end. Delia concentrated firmly on the needs of the family and had ensured they were looked after until they were ready to go home. Only then did it sink in and Delia hid herself in the Sluice Room in order to grieve.
A short while later, she was back on the ward and trying her best to comfort the other long term children there who all knew Rosie. The older ones were remarkably resilient and pragmatic. The younger ones just didn't understand. It provided Delia with a distraction until the children fell asleep. She then concentrated on a series of mundane tasks just to pass the time until the shift was over.
Unfortunately, if she wasn't thinking about Rosie, it gave her room to think about the conversation she had with Patsy that morning. Delia had been certain that Patsy had moved away from thinking that she was abnormal for loving another woman. Certainly, Patsy had never seemed happier and they just felt comfortable in each other's company. The risk of discovery meant that they were not often intimate, but when they were, it was often initiated by Patsy. Delia adored seeing Patsy come undone with passion, and was more than happy for her to take the lead. They remained careful, and only took things further when they were sure that no one else was around. Patsy insisted on sticking to curfew although there had been a couple of occasions when it had been a close thing.
Since working in the Psychiatric department, however, Delia had noticed Patsy become more withdrawn. Their conversation had been the first opportunity to discuss why, and it had taken Delia completely by surprise. It had wounded Delia to hear that Patsy believed that what they were doing was wrong. It had taken a long time for them to admit their feelings. It had taken even longer to act on those feelings. Since then, they had made mistakes, but had also found their way together as they developed a relationship in secret. Its very nature meant that they had only each other to rely on and trust. There had been a few issues with that as well.
If Patsy still thought what they had was fundamentally wrong, what did that mean for them? Would Patsy want a future with Delia or would she rather simply hide away?
Delia had no answers. She knew she needed to talk to Patsy about this, no matter how uncomfortable it might get. And earlier, Patsy had promised that they would talk.
When she was finally released from the ward, Delia forced herself to walk back at a steady pace. She would get changed, grab the gin and they would talk things through again. Delia needed Patsy to know that as far as she was concerned, her feelings were perfectly alright. If it was not the norm, then so be it. It was something that they had both nurtured and cherished. If it wasn't right, why had they spent so much time, attention and love in developing it?
Delia wasn't prepared to lose Patsy over this. The blonde nurse was simply too important to her.
She had been so busy concentrating on the situation and what she might say that Delia was almost surprised to find herself in front of her room. She hurried inside and changed into her pyjamas. She knew that this conversation was going to be excruciating. The least she could do was be in comfy clothes. After retrieving the gin from the back of her wardrobe, Delia turned to head out when she noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor.
Frowning, she picked up the note, scanning it quickly. A wave of nausea rolled through her and she bolted outside. Delia opened Patsy's door without knocking, and stumbled slightly as she surveyed the room. It was completely devoid of Patsy's belongings. Only the faint aroma of Patsy's perfume gave any hint to her ever having been there.
It took Delia a few seconds to do anything. She couldn't comprehend what had happened. The nurse scanned Patsy's room and desk for any further missives but there was nothing. Reluctantly, Delia returned to her own room, her heart sinking further as she heard Patsy's door shut with a grim finality.
Delia sat down heavily on her bed and studied the note again for any clue as to what had gone on. Patsy had written that there was a problem with her room and that she was moving. But there was no information on where she had moved to.
Delia's heart clenched and a solitary tear rolled down her cheek. Why would Patsy leave in such a hurry? There wasn't anything obviously wrong with the barren room next door so it could hardly have been an emergency. Why would Patsy not tell her where she had relocated?
A cold, hard dread balled deep inside, as Delia wondered if Patsy had already made up her mind and decided to put some distance between them. What on earth was she going to do now?
To be continued...