The District Nurses of Victory Walk Page 6

  Alice frowned and then nodded. ‘Yes, I know the one. A big brick building, not far from the market.’

  Fiona beamed. ‘Got it in one. It’s just opposite the entrance to Ridley Road but along a bit. If you haven’t done so already, you’ll most likely be treating some patients who attend there.’

  Alice nodded again. ‘I don’t think I’ve done so yet.’ Then she stopped. ‘No, wait, I have treated the younger brother of one of the pupils there. From one of those really crowded terraces behind the High Street. I went there last week.’

  The house had been almost falling down around their ears. Alice had had to strain her eyes to work out who was human and what was furniture, the light was so dim in the front room, despite the sunshine outside. The referral had come from Dr Beasley, often called Beastly Beasley by some of the nurses behind his back, as he didn’t seem to possess an ounce of compassion. Mary could do a horribly realistic impersonation of him. Alice wasn’t surprised that he had failed to warn her of the depths of this family’s situation. It was the most dire she had yet come across.

  The patient was hardly more than a baby but already he was showing signs of rickets. Alice had struggled to know what to say to start with. The little boy was sweating, restless, and when she gently touched his limbs he recoiled as if it caused him pain.

  ‘He always does that, Nurse,’ said the mother, as she tried to restrain a slightly older child – a girl, Alice thought, but in the murk it was tricky to tell. ‘He wouldn’t crawl nor nothing. His dad says he’s just lazy.’

  Alice hadn’t been able to prevent her eyebrows from rising. ‘I’m not sure that’s right,’ she said as steadily as she could. ‘It could be a symptom of rickets. Do you know what that is?’

  ‘Oh, that.’ The mother paused. ‘Yes, me granddad’s sister had it, made her short as anything. I hope that isn’t what Frankie’s got, poor little mite.’ She turned to shoo away the girl. ‘What can we do for him, Nurse? It’s horrible to see those what’s got the bandy legs. The other kids won’t half take the mick. I don’t want that.’

  Alice had sighed. The textbook answer would be: keep him outside in the sunlight as much as possible, without putting weight on his legs. There was as much chance of that as teaching him to fly, as there was scarcely room to swing a cat between the rows of the terrace, and the back yard stank from the privy shared between all the houses. Then she should suggest improving the child’s vitamin intake with bone soups, fresh pasteurised milk and green vegetables, especially spinach. That was unlikely to happen either.

  This was an occasion to resort to the authorities. Taking a deep breath, Alice plunged in. ‘In that case,’ she said, ‘I strongly recommend you take Frankie to the Infant Welfare Clinic and they will be able to refer you for assistance. He needs a special diet while there is still time. Don’t delay, but don’t despair either. We can help his bones to grow more normally, but not on what he’s eating at the moment.’

  Frankie’s mother had balked at that but then she had nodded. ‘All right. I don’t hold with going to the welfare for nothing, but if it’s his only chance …’

  ‘It’s a very good chance,’ Alice had answered immediately, determined to drive the point home. And, she thought to herself, I’m going to contact the Sanitary Inspector for once. There’s overcrowding and filthy living conditions and then there’s this. Whoever is renting this out as a family home needs reporting.

  ‘Ah yes. I heard about that,’ Fiona said now. ‘Well done.’ The superintendent clasped her hands together on her desk and went on: ‘St Benedict’s are concerned about instilling good habits of hygiene in their pupils. Sadly we can’t assume that parents have the time or knowledge to teach the children as well as might be desired.’ She looked Alice directly in the eye. ‘You’ll already have noticed that the homes around here have widely different facilities available. Some have indoor bathrooms with running water. Some make do with a tin bath hung on the scullery door and an outside toilet but have running water indoors nonetheless. Some don’t even have that. As I believe you saw for yourself only the other day.’ She paused and sighed. ‘When you have a family consisting of several generations under one small roof, teaching each child how best to brush their teeth is seldom a priority. And very few of them can afford a trip to the dentist.’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ said Alice.

  ‘That’s where we come in,’ Fiona announced. ‘Or, more precisely, you, Alice, if you are willing to take on this service.’

  ‘Me?’ Alice was taken aback. ‘What would I have to do? I’m not sure … I mean, I know how to clean my teeth, but I’m not an expert or anything …’

  ‘No, no, I’m not expecting you to be,’ Fiona said reassuringly. ‘We don’t want a stranger scaring the little ones. We want someone who is good with children and I’ve noticed that you are. Word gets around, you see. So, what they’d like you to do is go into the school and show the children how to do it, maybe one class at a time, so that you can keep a good eye on how well they’re doing. They’ll bring in their own toothbrushes – or the school might see to it quietly that they all have one. I’m going to approach a local wholesaler to ask if they can let us have toothpaste or toothpowder cheaply or even for free, as a goodwill gesture. Some families make their own toothpowder, but you can’t guarantee what’s in it half the time.’

  ‘I see,’ said Alice, shuddering inwardly, and realising yet again how lucky she’d been in her upbringing in this small but vital matter – always having a new toothbrush and constant supplies of proper toothpaste.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Fiona briskly. ‘Well, no time like the present. They’re expecting you this afternoon.’

  ‘This afternoon?’ Alice echoed in surprise.

  ‘Yes indeed. Leave it much longer and the children will be on their school holidays. We need to get good habits well ingrained before that. Of course the toothpaste won’t have arrived from the company, but you can demonstrate what to do so they know in advance.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Alice, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Really, there wasn’t much to say when you were swept up in Fiona’s efficient whirlwind.

  ‘That gives you a couple of hours to think about what you’ll say and to cycle over there. Ask for Miss Phipps. Best take your own brush with you, so you can show them exactly what you mean.’ Fiona beamed. ‘And you can tell me all about it later,’ she added, standing as she did so. The interview was evidently over.

  St Benedict’s was a big Victorian building with a playground at the front, large windows overlooking the entrance and the main road beyond. Alice could hear the hum of children’s voices as she approached, swinging her legs off the boneshaker bike which she’d now got used to, and sliding it into a purpose-built bike rack to the side of the yard.

  Before she could even look for a bell or doorknocker, a woman came out to greet her. ‘You must be Nurse Lake! Do come in,’ she said, in a voice Alice could easily believe would command a room of six-year-olds. ‘I’m Janet Phipps.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Alice, shaking the woman’s hand, and noting that she was older than her by a few years but not as old as Fiona. She wore horn-rimmed glasses and had a smiling, red-cheeked face, and was dressed very neatly in a slim cotton skirt and lemon twinset. She wore absolutely no jewellery, and Alice wondered if that was because it would be too easy to snag on little children’s clothing or hair.

  Janet Phipps led her into the building, with its distinctive school smell, and into a classroom full of small faces all turned in curiosity towards the door. ‘Our youngest class,’ Janet explained. ‘As they go home earliest we thought it best you started with them. Now, say good afternoon to Nurse Lake.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Nurse Lake,’ most of them chanted, although a few looked confused, apprehensive or sullen. One little boy in an unravelling grey jumper was concentrating too hard on picking his nose to say anything, and Janet Phipps gently admonished him while bringing Alice to the front of
the class.

  ‘Now, did we all remember to bring our toothbrushes?’ the teacher asked. ‘Here’s mine.’ She brought a red-handled one out from her skirt pocket. ‘Wave them in the air if you remembered.’

  ‘Please, Miss, I ain’t got one,’ said a tiny girl with fair ringlets, sitting directly in front of the boy with the unravelling jumper.

  ‘My gran says they’re bad for you,’ added the girl sitting beside her, with a mutinous face.

  Janet Phipps shook her head. ‘Those of you who don’t have one yet, just watch and try to remember what Nurse Lake says. We’ll make sure you all have them when she comes next and you can show her what you’ve learnt. Yes, Pauline, even you. You want to have nice white teeth when you grow up, don’t you?’ Turning to Alice she muttered, ‘The child’s gran hasn’t got a tooth in her head, but that’s all right as she mostly drinks gin. However …’

  Alice tried not to show her surprise, and realised that she might get on very well with Janet Phipps in the future. But now, she concentrated her attention on the job in hand. Taking out her own brush, she smiled at the classroom of young faces, and began.

  ‘That was harder than I thought,’ Alice confessed later, having talked to three separate classes one after the other. ‘It’s not so much showing them what to do: that’s simple and they’re keen to learn.’

  ‘They are at that age,’ Janet agreed. ‘Was it hearing how many of them didn’t have running water, or toothbrushes at all?’

  Alice shrugged. ‘I’ve been to plenty of houses around here now, but all the same it hits you sometimes. I’ve never lived anywhere where I couldn’t simply turn on a tap for water. It makes you forget how different it is if you don’t have that.’

  Janet Phipps nodded in sympathy. ‘Yes, and when the very little ones come here to begin with, sometimes we have to teach them how to wash their hands. It was good that you mentioned that today. Then they’ll know it’s not just me who goes on about how important it is.’

  Alice pushed open the front door to the playground and lifted her bike from its rack. ‘I’ll make sure to say that again next week.’

  Janet smiled. ‘They’ll look forward to your visit. As shall I. Maybe you’d have time for a cup of tea afterwards?’

  Alice smiled back. ‘That would be lovely.’

  Pushing her bike back to the main road, she decided to wheel it through the market, tempted by the thought of all the sights and smells. Summer was now here and the vegetable stalls were full of colour, with the stallholders shouting out as she went past. As the nurses had their meals together at the home, Alice didn’t need to buy anything, but her eye was caught by a cleverly arranged pile of pears, their bright skins shining in the sunlight. Suddenly she could imagine the taste of them and on impulse she went over to the stallholder. ‘Get yer vitamins here, Nurse!’ he shouted. ‘These’ll put hairs on yer chest.’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Alice, raising her eyebrows. ‘May I have half a dozen?’ She waited while he put them into a paper bag, and drew out her purse. She imagined how pleased Edith and Mary would be when she produced them later, and maybe she’d give one to Fiona too.

  Looking up after carefully placing the bag in her wire basket, she thought she saw a familiar figure – was that Mattie in the distance, with her wild hair? But the figure moved into the shadow cast by an awning and disappeared, while Alice wasn’t close enough to call out. The sight of the young woman, whether it was Mattie or not, made Alice recall the picnic after the band concert in Victoria Park, and the way her older brother had spoken. It still rankled when she thought about it, the unfairness of it. She shook her head and reminded herself it didn’t matter. The only thing was, Edith had hinted how much she had liked Harry and it had been pretty clear he’d been attracted to her. Edith hadn’t mentioned him since but Alice knew her friend was not one to let such an opportunity pass her by.

  For the second time that day, Fiona Dewar opened her office door just as Alice was passing, almost as if she’d been waiting for her. ‘How did it go?’ she asked, beckoning her in.

  Alice took the same chair as before. ‘Very well, I think,’ she said, offering Fiona a pear as the superintendent returned to her desk.

  ‘Why, thank you. I don’t mind if I do.’ Fiona took the fruit and set it to one side for later. ‘So, do you think your visits will be of use to the children? Will you be happy to go back next week?’

  Alice nodded. ‘They’re good as gold, or at least most of them are. They listened to what I said, and it will be better when they all have the brushes and toothpaste. It breaks your heart to see some of them not knowing what I’m talking about.’

  ‘But you didn’t show it,’ said Fiona briskly.

  ‘No, I wouldn’t do that. That would make them feel worse, wouldn’t it.’ It came out as a statement, not a question.

  ‘Quite right,’ the superintendent agreed. ‘We are here to help alleviate the difficulties of poverty in whatever practical ways we can, not to blame our patients for it, above all not the children. They can’t help which households they are born into. I’m glad to hear it was a success. It might be that it will be important to have close bonds with local schools in the near future.’

  Alice raised her eyebrows but wasn’t sure what lay behind the superintendent’s words.

  Fiona realised her hint had not hit its mark. ‘I hear you are a keen reader of the newspapers, Alice,’ she said. ‘That can only mean you are fully aware of the storm that is about to break very soon. You will have seen the preparations taking place already, with the trenches dug around all municipal open spaces and the factories changing use. I wish it were not so, but I see no point in burying our heads in the sand.’

  ‘You mean war,’ said Alice flatly. The words fell like lead.

  ‘Indeed.’ Fiona took a sharp inward breath. ‘Best to be prepared, as far as that is possible. There are plans in place to get children away from the most obvious points of attack, and it’s fair to say we are living slap-bang in the middle of one of them. We don’t have the details yet but, if it comes to it, it will be far better for them to be seen off by a friendly face than an anonymous stranger. That will help them leave in less distress and settle more quickly wherever they are sent.’ Her eyes fell to her desk. ‘Anyway, that’s the theory. We shall see. And it might not come to that. We can always hope.’

  ‘But you don’t seriously think war can be averted?’ Alice asked her.

  Fiona looked up again. ‘Quite honestly, no. So, Nurse Lake, please get to know those children over the next few weeks, and make sure they think of you as a figure of authority they can trust. Yes, it’s important that you teach them the rudiments of personal hygiene. But in fact, you will be doing far more than that. When it comes to separating a child from its parent, it will make all the difference if there is somebody in charge whom they recognise. We should not fool ourselves. This could happen very soon. So, time is of the essence.’

  Alice sank down on her bed in a confusion of emotions. The conversation had hit her hard. As the superintendent had pointed out, she knew from the papers, from local gossip and the evidence of her own eyes what was probably waiting around the corner, but to hear it spoken aloud by someone she trusted made it all too real. Part of her wanted to run away and hide somewhere, but she was conscious of the extra responsibility Fiona had just placed upon her. The superintendent thought she was worthy of such a task, should it come to it. That left her with little choice; she had to be ready to step up to the mark. If the children were going to be separated from their homes and loved ones, they had to suffer as little as possible – there was no question about that.

  And how would the war affect her family, and all the people she had grown up with or met while training? Despite herself, her mind flicked to the one place she tried so hard to stop it from going. To the place where she held the memory of the young doctor who had once meant so much to her: Mark. The man she’d loved so fiercely, and who she had fervently believed had love
d her back with equal passion. The man who had sworn they would never be parted, whatever life had in store; that they’d be together through thick and thin. What would he have said if he was here now, sharing her dilemma and sense of imminent danger? But he would never share anything with her again. He was lost to her and she had to bear it, somehow. Of her current circle, only Edith knew. Well, her parents did of course – and she knew they quietly thought she should forget him and move on in her life. She couldn’t bear that either.

  There was a knock on the door and Edith burst in. ‘Thought I heard you come back. How did it go? Are you off duty now? I’ve just done my last call of the day. A poor old lady down Boleyn Road needed her dressing changed. She would have kept me chatting all day but I couldn’t take her last biscuits, it wouldn’t have been right.’

  ‘Have a pear instead.’ Alice opened the paper bag.

  ‘Oooh, I knew it would be worth dropping in,’ said Edith, snatching one quickly. ‘Now guess what my news is.’

  Alice rolled her eyes. ‘No idea.’

  ‘Well, now.’ Edith settled herself on her friend’s bed, looking pleased with herself. ‘Remember those brothers from the park?’

  ‘From the picnic, you mean?’

  ‘Of course, do we know any others? Yes, from the day of the band concert. You know the one in the green shirt, the handsome one with the deep brown eyes?’

  ‘I remember the shirt. Can’t say I noticed his eyes.’

  ‘I did. Anyway, he’s only gone and asked me to go to the pictures with him.’

  Alice sat up straight. ‘Has he? How did he do that?’

  Edith looked a little sheepish. ‘He came round here with a message for me.’

  Alice gasped. ‘He shouldn’t do that. You’re only meant to leave messages if you need the attentions of a nurse.’

  ‘Seems he does,’ said Edith with a wicked grin. ‘Anyway it was all right, it was Mary who opened the door, and of course she recognised him. Actually I think she’s a bit miffed he asked me and not her. But she’ll get over it.’