Queenie Read online

  ‘Not – not really,’ I mumbled.

  ‘You said that leather thing was rubbing you raw!’ said Mum. ‘You take a look, Nurse.’

  ‘I’m Sister Baker, Miss Kettle,’ the Sister said, still carefully pleasant and polite, though the look on her face made me shiver. She pulled back my blankets and examined my poorly leg, running her finger expertly underneath the leather. ‘Is this where it’s sore, Elsie?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. No. I don’t know,’ I gabbled, in a cold sweat.

  ‘It’s too tight, that’s what it is,’ said Mum. ‘Can’t you unbuckle it a bit?’

  ‘The splint has to be reasonably tight to be effective,’ said Sister Baker. ‘But we examine it scrupulously every four hours, checking for any discomfort. Which nurse last washed your leg, Elsie?’

  ‘Nurse Patterson,’ I whispered, truthfully enough.

  ‘Well, your leg feels a little damp. Perhaps she didn’t dry you properly. I’ll have a word with her,’ said Sister Baker.

  She took the towel from my locker, and dried and powdered my sweaty leg. ‘There now. Is that more comfortable?’ she said.

  ‘Yes – yes it is,’ I said eagerly.

  Mum nodded, tossing her long hair, pleased that she’d fought for her daughter and obtained satisfaction.

  ‘There you are!’ she said, when Sister had marched off purposefully. ‘Happy, now? Your old mum’s fixed it.’

  I wasn’t at all sure I was happy. My tummy was in a tight little knot of anxiety. I’d more or less told a lie – and even Nan hated liars: ‘You can be as naughty as you like, Elsie, so long as you own up to it. I can’t stomach liars,’ she always said.

  I told endless stories but I never told downright lies – at least not to anyone that mattered. I hadn’t intended to lie to Mum. It just slipped out of my mouth without me thinking properly.

  ‘What’s up now?’ Mum said, frowning at me. ‘Why the long face?’

  ‘I – I’m a bit scared, Mum. My leg wasn’t really that sore. I shouldn’t have made a fuss,’ I said in a sudden burst.

  ‘Of course it was sore. Any fool could see it was rubbing. Like that Sister said, it hadn’t been dried properly,’ she said. ‘I hope she gives that nurse a right ticking off!’

  ‘I don’t want anyone to get into trouble,’ I said.

  ‘Nonsense – that’s how all them nurses learn. They can’t get away with shoddy treatment, especially when they’re dealing with little kiddies. Don’t you worry, Elsie, I’ll see you’re all right. You tell your mum if you’re sore anywhere else, right?’

  I felt rubbed raw all over right that minute, but I kept quiet. I hardly said a word the rest of the visit, and Mum got bored and started chatting to Martin’s dad again. At the end of visiting time she went off with Martin’s parents, very chipper because she was getting a lift.

  ‘Toodle-oo, little darling,’ she said to me, blowing me a kiss.

  ‘Your mum doesn’t half pong,’ said Martin as all the parents disappeared. ‘I can still smell all her flowery scent stuff.’

  ‘It’s Californian Poppy,’ I said. ‘My uncle gave her a big bottle.’

  ‘Fancy your mum going and getting Sister!’ said Gillian. ‘What was all that about?’

  ‘Oh, she was worried about my splint,’ I mumbled.

  ‘You said your leg was all sore and it was Nurse Patterson’s fault!’ said Martin, who had sharp ears.

  There was a collective gasp and a lot of giggling.

  ‘I didn’t say it like that exactly. I won’t get into trouble, will I?’ I asked anxiously.

  ‘Nurse Patterson will!’ said Gillian. ‘I bet Sister Baker is laying into her right this minute.’

  ‘Oh no,’ I said.

  ‘Sister Baker can get ever so cross if she thinks the nurses aren’t doing their job properly. Remember that time she caught Nurse Johnson pinching a sweet out of the tin, Rita? She really hit the roof,’ said Gillian.

  ‘She went absolutely nuts,’ said Rita. ‘Nurse Johnson cried buckets.’

  ‘I didn’t mean for Nurse Patterson to get into trouble,’ I said, nibbling my sore lip.

  ‘Don’t worry, Elsie. Who cares about Nurse Patterson?’ said Angus. ‘She’s not very nice to us, is she?’

  ‘I know, but I still didn’t mean her to get into trouble with Sister.’

  I waited in dread for the nurses to come bustling in. Nurse Curtis came along at last, very pink in the face, her lips pressed tightly together. There was no sign of Nurse Patterson.

  ‘Right, we’d better get you indoors,’ she said, seizing hold of Babette’s bed and trundling her off. Maureen started wailing. Babette and Maureen loved to be pushed along together, the nurses working in tandem while the little girls played they were in cars and turned imaginary steering wheels, racing each other. There was obviously going to be no fun or games this afternoon. Nurse Curtis trundled backwards and forwards by herself, her face getting pinker and pinker.

  ‘Where’s Nurse Patterson, Nurse Curtis?’ Gillian dared ask.

  ‘She’s . . . not very well,’ said Nurse Curtis. She looked straight at me and gave a sniff of disgust.

  I didn’t risk saying a word to Nurse Curtis when she pushed me back to the ward. I didn’t even speak when she pushed me right past my usual bed-space, down to the end of the room – out into the corridor and straight into the little bathroom. It was clear that I was in total disgrace.

  I waited fearfully to see what would happen next. I waited and waited and waited, with only a dripping tap and a stack of bedpans for company. I wondered if I was going to miss out on supper, but Nurse Curtis brought me a tray of tomato soup with an egg sandwich. I looked at it doubtfully, wondering if she might have spat in the soup.

  ‘What’s the matter, your ladyship?’ she said snippily. ‘Isn’t the food up to scratch? Are you going to complain about that too?’

  ‘I didn’t complain, not really. Mum misunderstood,’ I said.

  ‘Well, you and your blessed mum have scuppered poor Patterson good and proper,’ said Nurse Curtis.

  ‘Oh dear, has she got into trouble with Sister?’

  ‘Oh, you make me sick, acting so naïve. Of course she’s in trouble. You’ve only gone and accused her of negligent nursing, and that’s the one thing Sister Baker will never forgive. You could come on the ward with your apron on backwards and a potty on your head, and Sister would tick you off and tell you not to be such a silly fool – but she wouldn’t hold it against you for long. But if she thinks you’re not giving proper nursing care to all you kiddies, then, oh my goodness, you’re for it, good and proper. How could you be so wicked, Elsie? You know full well we all wash and powder your wretched leg with scrupulous care – and Patterson always takes particular pains.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ I said, cowering under my covers. I accidentally spilled tomato soup all over my tray. ‘I’m sorry!’ I was scared she might think that was deliberate too.

  She just sniffed at me again and flounced off. I was left with my unappetizing tray. The soup pooled in a corner, looking unpleasantly bloody. It had even spattered the egg sandwich. I left it altogether and nibbled round the edge of the sandwich. Nobody came to take the tray away when I was finished. With my leg stuck up to my hip in a splint, I couldn’t manoeuvre the tray off my chest onto the floor. I didn’t dare throw it off. So I had to lie there with the soup congealing in front of my nose, its scent so powerful I felt I was swimming in it.

  I heard footsteps – Nurse Curtis’s light tread, but then a heavier march on thickly soled rubber heels. Nurse Patterson! But neither came into the bathroom.

  I heard the rattle of the washing trolley, but no one came to wash me. Then the ward went quiet, except for the faint buzz of Nurse Patterson’s over-emphatic voice. She was telling them all the bedtime story.

  Well, I didn’t care. I could make up my own story. I tried to make one up there and then. I took myself up the tree, climbed the little ladder through the clouds and stepped out int