Northfield Ch. 12

A note. My characters use personal pronouns for Grace/Richard in the manner of 1950s and I do not mean to hurt anyone's feelings with this. I did some research on transvestism but I can't claim any deep knowledge of the subject. This person seems to have arrived from my imagination as a fond memory of a bisexual man who was my best friend for years, so it is a writer's odd amalgam, and thus not consistent social history or a political statement. Jane Eyre has some harshness, not exactly suitable to modern sensibilities, and this may have affected my poor writer's brain, too.

Enter Grace Poole

Shelagh heard the voices of Father Joe and Doctor Turner in the hall when she was cleaning the Clinic Room after a surgery day. Father Joe ran an asylum for prostitutes at Wellclose Square; he was a good and trusted friend of the Nonnatus House community

"Doctor Turner, I have a problem of a rather peculiar nature. There is a person called Grace Poole staying at Wellclose right now."

"I know Grace Poole. His real name is Richard Mason. He is a former patient of mine. So he has returned to Poplar, has he?"

"Yes, and I really can't keep him at my place. A transvestite causes too much disruption among the girls, and my place is really for…. women only. But he is rather sick and in need of care. Do you think Nonnatus House could take him?"

"Of course they can. "

By this time Shelagh had entered the hall, with questioning eyes. Doctor Turner gave her an apologetic look:"Perhaps it is better to let Sister Evangelina decide. But there are rooms, aren't there, Nurse Mannion?"

"Yes, there are," admitted Shelagh and left for Sister Evangelina's office to ask.

xxxx

Later in the evening, when Grace Poole née Richard Mason had been accommodated and given some medical care, Shelagh found Doctor Turner and Sister Evangelina having a conversation in the kitchen.

"He should rest here for at least a few nights, but if you can keep him a week, even better. It will give him time to recuperate. That is a pretty nasty cough," Doctor Turner said, shaking his head.

"Doctor, how long do you think he will survive? With his lifestyle?" Sister Evangelina asked with some weariness.

"Your guess is as good as mine; I know you've seen this before. Perhaps some five years, maybe a spell or two at Maudsley Mental Hospital will help. The likelihood of an accidental or violent death is high among men of his kind. The best thing that could happen to him would be to find a friend to live with. Someone to look after him. He is erratic and impulsive."

"He is sharing his lodgings with someone, with another vagrant. I think she is taking care of him, in her own way. I suspect she is on her own walkabouts just now and that is why Grace is worse. Our Good Lord had an odd sense of humour when he created Grace and his kind." Sister Evangelina sighed and left.

Shelagh was surprised at their talk. She had recently learned that Doctor Turner had been a character witness for a young man accused of gross indecency.

"Why the look, Mannion? Do you have something on your mind?" Doctor Turner inquired mildly.

"Doctor. Do you believe in that? …. God's odd sense of humour?"

"As you know, Nurse, I do not believe in God, but I can accept the diversity of man." His face grew distant for a moment and there was pessimism in his voice. "The vagrant lifestyle is dangerous for him from the point of view of health care. Transvestism should not pose a danger, but it does, unhappily."

"Have you seen men like Grace often?"

"Not often but I've seen some. I saw more of the 'diversity of man', when I was in the army. When there is a large enough population you get all types." He paused, and raised his eyebrows. "This kind of behaviour may be more usual than we think. A recent report on male sexuality claims, for instance, that a good deal of men have some homosexual thoughts."

Shelagh's expression was slightly pained and betrayed incredulity. Doctor Turner's face grew tender and amused.

"What do you believe?" she asked haltingly.

"That we should live and let live." He took his bag and his sleeve brushed her arm on his way out. "A good deal. Not all," he said gently. "That is what I said."

Shelagh heard him hum a little in the hall. What was that tune? Some war-time song.

You'll never know just how much I miss you

You'll never know just how much I care

And if I tried, I still couldn't hide my love for you

You ought to know, for haven't I told you so

A million or more times?

You went away and my heart went with you

I speak your name in my every prayer

If there is some other way to prove that I love you

Vera Lynn: You'll Never Know