The Pull of the Stars(29)

I tried to remember when things had last been ordinary—late summer?

The doctor added, At any rate, X-rays would only draw us a picture of exactly how congested her lungs are, not tell us how to clear them.

Ita Noonan addressed her in a gracious gasp: Will you be staying for the hooley?

I will, of course, thank you, Mrs. Noonan.

Dr. Lynn murmured to me, I see her left arm is slightly palsied. That can happen with this flu. Has she seemed dizzy at all?

Yes, I thought perhaps she was when I was bringing her to the lavatory earlier.

Dr. Lynn wrote that on the chart. Tantalising not to be able to get precise answers out of the delirious, isn’t it? Every symptom is a word in the language of disease, but sometimes we can’t hear them properly.

And even if we do, we can’t always make out the full sentence.

She nodded. So we just shush them, one word at a time.

I asked, More hot whiskey for Mrs. Noonan, then? Dr. Prendergast said—

She answered a little wearily: Mm, it’s looking as if alcohol’s the safest for grippe patients, all things considered.

There was a junior I didn’t know at the door. Dr. Lynn? You’re wanted in Women’s Surgical.

The doctor adjusted her glasses and said, On my way. Over her shoulder she told me, I’ll send up a chaplain for a word with Mrs. Garrett.

And may she have whiskey too, for her afterpains and cough?

Indeed. With any of these patients, use your good judgement.

That startled me. You mean—I should give medicine without a specific order?

That would be scorning protocol. If I’d misunderstood her, I could lose my job for overstepping.

Dr. Lynn nodded impatiently. They have me running between half a dozen wards today, Nurse Power, and you seem awfully capable, so I authorise you to dose any of your patients with alcohol or, for bad pain, chloroform or morphine.

I was filled with gratitude; she’d untied my hands.

Coming in, Bridie almost crashed into the doctor in the doorway. She was panting a little, with a sheen on her speckled cheekbones; had she taken the stairs three at a time?

Dr. Lynn said, Catch your breath, dear.

I’m grand, said Bridie. What do you need next, Nurse Power?

I sent her off to the incinerator chute with the bundled mess of Delia Garrett’s delivery and then to the laundry one with the ball of bloodied sheets.

I scanned my narrow domain, and my eye fell on the pot the thermometer had cracked in. I poured the cooled water down the drain, leaving the small glitter of glass and the mercury droplets rolling around in the bottom. I formed a packet out of newspaper and tipped it all in.

Bridie came back in and saw. I’m such an eejit to have broke that.

Not your fault. I should have warned you that boiling water would make the mercury expand too much and crack the bulb.

She shook her head. I should have guessed.

If a lesson’s not learnt, I said, blame the student. But if it’s not taught right—or not taught at all—blame the teacher.

She grinned. So I’m a student now? There’s posh.

I wrapped up the packet of newspaper and murmured, I’m afraid I’m not much of a teacher at the moment.

Ah, well, sure everything’s arsewise right at the minute.

Bridie said that under her breath, as if worried her language might offend me.

I smiled to myself to hear her come out with Tim’s phrase.

In her stupor, Delia Garrett shifted around on the pillows.

Bridie nodded at her. Your one would have bled to death if you hadn’t dug that lump out of her, isn’t that what the doctor meant?

I grimaced. Who knows?

Her eyes were starry blue. Never seen the like!

The girl’s worship weighed on me. If I’d been even a little clumsy this afternoon, I might have ripped Delia Garrett apart, left her barren or dead. I didn’t know any nurse without a few big mistakes on her conscience.

Bridie went on as if to herself: I suppose she’s as well off.

Wealthy, did she mean? I wasn’t sure what good that would do the Garretts now. I asked quietly, Well off in what sense?

As well off without it.

It took me a second to get it. I whispered: Without—the baby?

Bridie blew out her breath. Only more pain in the end, aren’t they?

I was speechless. How could such a young woman have formed so warped a view of the main business of humankind?

Didn’t Mrs. Garrett tell us herself that she didn’t want a third?

I said shortly, That won’t stop her heart breaking.

I looked at the package of mercury and glass, forcing my mind back to practical matters. I wondered whether incinerating it might send up dangerous fumes.

I asked Bridie to take the packet outside the hospital and throw it in the nearest bin. And then get yourself a bite of lunch—or more like dinner now, I suppose.

I was rarely aware of hunger on a busy shift; my own body’s needs were suspended. I’d sent away the maid with the birthmark, I remembered. Those lunch trays, Bridie, are they still outside?

She shook her head. Someone must have took them.

I couldn’t send a special request when the kitchen staff were so hard-pressed. Tell you what, could you go to the canteen and load a tray up for us all?

She set down the packet of glass and her hands went to her hair—frayed wire now. She whipped out the comb I’d given her and did her best to slick it back.