Queenie Read online

  She didn’t take me back into the ward. She took me to a small bathroom instead. She sent me to the toilet in a little cubicle while she ran a scalding hot bath. ‘Hurry up and jump in!’

  ‘But I’m clean. I had a bath last Friday,’ I said, emerging from the toilet.

  Friday was always bath night at home. Nan lit the boiler specially, and I always had first scrub, and then ate a jacket potato supper in bed while Nan had a good soak herself. I realized that I actually hadn’t had a bath on Friday – Mum never seemed to get us organized. Even so, I didn’t want to have a bath right in front of the nurse with sticking-out ears.

  ‘Come on, surely you can take your clothes off yourself?’ she said impatiently.

  I slowly took off my coat, my shoes and socks, my cardie, my dress and my vest. I stood there in my frilly knickers, blushing.

  ‘Take your knick-knacks off too, silly, and jump in the bath,’ she said. ‘Don’t go all coy. Heavens, you’ll soon learn not to be so shy here.’

  That sounded very ominous indeed. I removed my knickers very reluctantly and got in the bath. She took a brand-new flannel and a cake of red carbolic soap and approached me.

  ‘I can bath myself – I’m not a baby,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Very well, but get on with it,’ she said. She watched me like a hawk, making me scrub everywhere. She washed my hair herself, digging in hard with her fingertips while my head juddered up and down, and she didn’t care when the soap got in my eyes.

  ‘You’re very mean,’ I spluttered.

  She just laughed at me. I had to rub myself dry, shivering, while she fetched a horrible white gown with no back to it.

  ‘What’s that?’ I said.

  ‘It’s your nightie!’

  ‘No, no, I’ve got my own pyjamas. They’ve got cats on them,’ I said, running over to my suitcase to show her.

  ‘Oh yes, very saucy – but you can’t wear them just yet.’

  ‘But my mum bought them specially!’ I wailed.

  ‘I dare say – but they have to be fumigated first. You’ll get them back in a few days.’

  ‘But I want to wear them now!’ I said, opening up my suitcase and clutching my cat pyjamas. Then I saw Albert Trunk wearing his sock, and a terrible fear overcame me. ‘I can have my elephant, can’t I?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, dear, when he’s come back from being fumigated,’ the nurse told me.

  ‘But I can’t sleep without him. My nan gave him to me when I was a baby and I have to have him tucked up with me, else I can’t settle.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can find a nice teddy from our toy box for you to cuddle,’ said the nurse. ‘Now stop getting yourself so worked up, it’s not good for you.’ She towelled my hair, pummelling my head, until it was almost dry, and then she gave me a parting on the wrong side, digging in hard with the end of the comb.

  ‘I don’t have a parting there,’ I said.

  ‘Stop it now. You’re just being difficult on purpose,’ she said. ‘Look, we’ll put a couple of Kirby grips in to keep the hair out of your eyes – you’ll like that, won’t you?’

  ‘I don’t like it one bit,’ I muttered, but under my breath. I looked desperately at my suitcase, but she shut it up and labelled it. Albert Trunk bellowed miserably from the dark depths. All the cats swarmed off my pyjamas and ran round and round, terrified. Snow White and Sooty and Marmalade mewed piteously, scrabbling at the cardboard lid. All my friends in the Girl clamoured to get out too. Belle kept leaping up in frantic pirouettes, banging her head each time. They all called out desperately for me to rescue them, but I was helpless. Nurse Sticking-out Ears made me abandon them all.

  She led me back into Blyton Ward with all the trussed-up children. They mostly couldn’t sit up, but they craned their necks to stare at me. I was horribly embarrassed by my stupid hospital gown. I reached round and clutched it together at the back so they wouldn’t see my bottom. There was only one empty bed – the one next to the boy who had stuck his tongue out at me.

  The nurse pulled me towards it.

  ‘Can’t I sleep somewhere else?’ I looked around wildly. ‘Next to one of the girls?’

  ‘I’m not trundling beds around at this time. You can go next to Martin. You’d like a bit of company, wouldn’t you, dear?’ she said cheerily to the rude boy.

  ‘I want Robert back,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said the nurse.

  ‘Who’s Robert?’ I asked.

  ‘Never you mind,’ she said. ‘Now then, Martin, this is Elsie. Say hello nicely to her, everyone.’

  ‘Hel-lo, El-sie,’ they chorused slowly, the way you say good morning to your teacher at school.

  ‘Say hello back, Elsie!’ said the nurse.

  I was busy staring around open-mouthed, peering at the various ways in which most of the children were imprisoned in their beds. The rude boy’s contraption was particularly fearful – and I was very frightened by the poor little mummy boy encased in plaster. I backed away from the nurse.

  ‘Elsie?’

  ‘I don’t want you to strap me up in those things!’ I said. ‘I especially don’t want the plaster stuff.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, dear. These are all devices to keep you nice and still so that all your poorly parts can get better.’

  ‘Robert didn’t get better,’ said rude Martin.

  ‘Ssh now, Martin. Elsie! Hop into bed,’ the nurse said, turning down the sheets.

  ‘You promise you won’t tie me up?’

  ‘It’s nothing to be afraid of. It doesn’t hurt,’ she said.

  ‘Yes it does,’ said Martin.

  ‘It hurts ever so – I’m all sore,’ said the big girl across from Martin.

  ‘And it itches,’ added another girl.

  ‘Now now – don’t all start! You’ve got to be good, remember, or you won’t get a story after supper.’

  ‘Don’t want a stupid story – not about daft pixies,’ said Martin in disgust.

  ‘You’re not the only one here, Mr Grumpy. All the others love the story, don’t you, children?’ said the nurse. She smiled at me. ‘You’d like to hear a story, wouldn’t you, Elsie?’

  I considered. ‘Do you know any stories about cats?’ I asked.

  ‘I think there’s a lovely big book about a marmalade cat called Orlando in the library. If you’re a really good girl while you’re having your treatment, I’ll read it to you,’ she said. ‘Don’t look so worried. We’re not doing anything to you just yet – you’re under observation.’

  I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Were they watching me? If I was really bad, would they tie me up and smother me in plaster? I jumped into bed quickly. It was so tightly made I had to fight my way into the cold sheets and my feet had to lie sideways.

  ‘That’s a good girl,’ said the nurse. ‘Now, I’ll go and see about supper.’

  The moment she was out of the room there was a clamour.

  ‘What’s your proper name – Elsie what?’

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Where do you go to school?’

  ‘Why didn’t you come earlier?’

  ‘Where’s your mum?’

  I blinked, not sure what to say first. ‘I’m Elsie Kettle,’ I said.

  ‘Elsie Kettle!’ said Martin, hooting with scornful laughter. ‘What sort of name is that?’

  I decided not to answer any more questions. I struggled further down into the bed and shut my eyes, pretending to go instantly to sleep.

  ‘Hey, you, Elsie Kettle, we’re talking to you,’ said Martin. ‘That’s not really your bed, you know. It’s my friend Robert’s – only he died.’

  I froze. ‘No he didn’t, you’re just fibbing,’ I said.

  ‘He did die, last week, didn’t he?’ Martin said to the room, and there were murmurs backing him up. ‘That’s the Bed of Doom.’

  ‘No it’s not,’ I said weakly. My skin started crawling. Did a boy really die in this very bed