Queenie Read online

  ‘Oh darling, don’t get too upset.’

  ‘I want to go home,’ I mumbled into her ear. ‘I don’t like it here. I’m not ever going to get used to it.’

  ‘Oh dear, I know. It must be very frightening just at first, but we’re not all ogres, you know. All the nurses are very kind.’ She tucked the sheets in tight around me. ‘Close your eyes and you’ll go to sleep in no time.’

  ‘No I won’t. I need Albert Trunk!’

  ‘Who’s Albert, dear?’

  ‘He’s my elephant,’ I blurted out.

  She looked so surprised I had to add, ‘He’s my toy,’ so she wouldn’t think I was mad, but it felt like a terrible betrayal because Albert was so real to me.

  ‘Oh, a toy,’ she said, giggling.

  ‘I had him all packed in my suitcase with my new cat pyjamas, but that other nurse won’t let me have him. She says he has to be fumigated,’ I wailed.

  ‘Oh dear. Yes, I’m afraid it’s a rule. But you’ll get him back soon, I promise.’

  ‘I need him now,’ I said. I suddenly realized that Snow White and Sooty and Marmalade would have to be fumigated too. I wasn’t quite sure what fumigation was, but it sounded terrible. I imagined a huge hot chamber and all my beloved pets herded inside and then gassed. It was such a terrible thought it became real and I burst out crying.

  ‘Oh sweetheart, there now! They’ll be back in a day or two. And meanwhile . . . Here, hang on a sec.’ She ran up the ward, her flat shoes squeaking on the polished floor. Nurse Patterson remonstrated but she took no notice.

  I lay there snivelling, ducking my head right under my sheets, but it was no use. I was hardly making any noise but Martin had ears like a bat.

  ‘Cry-baby!’ he said scornfully. He cleared his throat. ‘Gobface is a cry-baby,’ he announced to the whole ward.

  Nurse Curtis came dashing back clutching something. ‘Here, Elsie. He’ll keep you company until you get your elephant back,’ she said, and she thrust a large stuffed Donald Duck into my arms. ‘He’s from the little ones’ toy box in Potter Ward, but I’ll make sure you get to keep him as long as you need him. Night-night now.’

  ‘Night-night, Nurse. And thank you – thank you very much,’ I said, sniffing. I didn’t like Donald Duck. He’d never been my favourite cartoon character. I didn’t even care for his name. I’d had an Uncle Donald once when I was little, and he always tossed me up in the air or tickled me too hard. I’d been very glad when Mum got a new boyfriend to replace him.

  This Donald Duck was old and faded and he smelled of hospitals. His felt skin made my nails twitch and his stiff beak stuck out rudely right in my face. Nevertheless I clung to him when Nurse Patterson switched the lights off. There was a desk light at the far end which glowed eerily in the dark.

  ‘Hey, Gobface, still grizzling?’ Martin called.

  I didn’t have the spirit to retaliate this time. I lay there on my back, the tears seeping down my face and dribbling into my ears, while Donald Duck pecked at me.

  The others whispered to one another for a while, and then their voices faded away. I could hear someone snoring. I thought it was Martin, but then his voice came hissing through the air: ‘Remember, Gobface, you’re in the Bed of Doom.’

  I put my hands over my ears, hating him. I knew he was only saying it to frighten me, and yet this other boy, Robert, really had died in my bed, and recently too.

  I wasn’t sure what happened when you died. Nan said you went up to heaven and wore a white nightie with fluffy white wings to match, and walked in gardens and thought beautiful thoughts. Mum laughed at that idea and said she thought it would be too boring, and if that was the case she’d sooner go downstairs to the Other Place, which sounded much more lively. But they didn’t seem serious, either of them. Maybe Robert hadn’t gone up to heaven or down to hell. Maybe he was still trapped here in the hospital? I looked up fearfully in case he was hovering above his old bed. I couldn’t see a ghost boy in the gloom, but maybe he’d been made invisible. Perhaps he was coming to take me away with him?

  I hunched up in a little ball under the covers, not even daring to put my head on my pillow, but I must have gone to sleep. I dreamed of Donald Duck. We were paddling frantically on a choppy sea, trying to get away from the ghost who was going to get us. I could feel his cold hands pulling me down under the water. I kicked and struggled, and woke up fighting the sheets. I was still wet, though, as if . . .

  Oh no. I lay in my sodden bed, my heart thumping. I’d wet myself! I hadn’t wet the bed since I was a baby. What was I going to do? What would Nurse Patterson say? She’d surely be cross, especially as I hadn’t used her wretched potty. All the other children in the ward would know. Martin would have a field day tormenting me.

  I lay very still, willing this all to be a terrible nightmare. If only I had enough willpower, perhaps I could make myself wake up in my own bed at home, with Albert Trunk safe in my arms and Nan coming in to give me a cuddle . . . I shut my eyes tight and clenched my fists and squeezed my knees together and willed it to happen – but I stayed wet and lonely in the Bed of Doom. I could hear footsteps now, squeak, squeak across the polished floor, coming nearer and nearer.

  ‘Hello? Who have we here?’ It was a soft, gentle voice. Not Nurse Patterson, not Nurse Curtis – but one peep showed me a white hat with wings. Another nurse. I lay as still as I could, eyes shut again, breathing slowly in and out, even snuffling a little to sound as if I were snoring – but she wasn’t fooled.

  ‘It’s Elsie, isn’t it?’ she whispered. ‘I think you’re awake, aren’t you, poppet? And I think . . .’ Her hand slid under my covers and felt my damp sheet.

  I held my breath, waiting for the slap, the shouting.

  ‘Your sheets are in a bit of a tangle,’ she said. ‘You need a nice new pair. Don’t worry, we’ll soon make you comfy.’

  She walked off, checking each child as she went. She was walking stealthily now, almost on tiptoe, so that no one else would wake. I lay still, wondering if I might have imagined her – but then she was back with her arms full of clean linen. She didn’t snap on my light. In the darkness she lifted me out of bed as if I were a baby, took my wet nightgown off, wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, and gently washed me with a warm sponge. Then she put the clean new nightie on, and tucked me back in the blanket.

  ‘There, my little parcel!’ she whispered. ‘You wait there, sweetheart, and I’ll have your bed made in a jiffy.’

  She was like a conjurer, wafting a sheet here and there, and suddenly working magic. My wet sheets were soon lying in a little bundle on the floor, my bed was made with fresh new ones and, wonder of wonders, when she lifted me back into bed, I felt a hot-water bottle carefully wrapped in a towel.

  ‘Newly made beds always feel a bit chilly,’ she said. She took my hands and rubbed them. ‘There, poor little frozen fingers! And who’s this?’ She took Donald Duck. ‘Do you want him tucked in too?’

  ‘Mmm . . .’ I couldn’t decide. I didn’t like him, but perhaps he was better than nothing. ‘I really want Albert Trunk, but that other nurse took him away,’ I said, in a tiny voice.

  ‘Oh dear. I suppose he has to be fumigated. But he’ll be back soon. Let’s pretend he’s gone on his holidays. Albert Trunk has packed his trunk. Has he got his pyjamas?’

  ‘No, he’s just got this little red felt saddle thing, but I’ve got pyjamas with special cats on, only that other nurse wouldn’t let me wear them.’

  ‘You’ll wear your own pyjamas soon, I promise. Cats, eh?’

  ‘Yes, white ones, with a pink background.’

  ‘Very pretty – and white cats. Perfect!’ she said. ‘Hey – purrfect, get it?’ She giggled very quietly and I did too. ‘I shall look forward to seeing your cat pyjamas, Elsie, but meanwhile, you might just find you have a white cat on your hospital nightgown. Just one – but she’s very, very big and soft and furry.’

  I thought she was trying to help me imagine a cat, one stretching right acros