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Authors: Catrin Collier
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short, dark woman, with beady black eyes that overlooked nothing.
Every speck of dust in awkward corners and every trivial misdemeanour committed by probationers and domestics came under her scrutiny. Laura had been called up before her more times than she cared to remember.
Bethan, with her more careful ways and healthier respect for authority, had never been in her office before now.
‘You know why I sent for you, Powell?’
Bethan slid nervously forward to the edge of her chair. ‘The results of my final nursing examination?’ she enquired hopefully.
Matron smiled in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but the gesture was wasted on Bethan. ‘You’ve passed, Powell. With distinction. Your name came top of your year.’
Bethan slumped in her chair. She’d passed. She’d really passed!
‘I’ve recommended you for midwifery training.’
‘Pardon, Matron?'
‘I’ve recommended you for midwifery training. It means another full year’s study and I warn you now, the examination for the midwifery certificate is not an easy one. But there’s a shortage of good midwives, and I believe you have the makings of a very good one indeed. Afterwards, may I suggest you complete the six months’ public health course? That will qualify you to work as a health visitor. God only knows,’ Matron added irreverently, ‘there’s an even greater shortage of those, particularly in this area.’
‘The midwifery certificate.’ As the words sank in so did their significance. Another full year on Squeers’ ward.
‘I know another year of study is an unappealing prospect, Nurse Powell …’
“Nurse Powell.” Someone in authority, someone other than the patients had actually said it …
‘But you will be on full pay while you train. Thirty-five shillings a week and a further five shillings when you qualify. You don’t have to make your decision now.’ Matron rose majestically and walked out from behind her desk. ‘Think it over and when you come to a decision make an appointment to see me. But remember,’ she cautioned, ‘you haven’t much time. The list of candidates has to be in by the end of the month. Should your decision be a positive one, the board would want to offer you a contract. One year initially.’
‘Yes, Matron. Thank you very much, Matron.’ Bethan struggled to regain her composure.
‘Is there anything you want to ask me?’ Matron enquired.
‘I can’t think of anything. Thank you.’ Bethan fumbled her way to the door. If she trained as a midwife, the board would offer her a contract - on Squeers’ ward! But if she passed it would mean two pounds a week. Two pounds!
She turned back as she reached the door.
‘I don’t need to think it over, Matron,’ she said quietly. ‘I’d like to put my name down for the course.’
‘Good,’ Matron beamed in approbation. ‘It will be hard. Studying as well as working full-time. But I think you’ll find it rewarding, and you’ve already proved that you have the aptitude. When you return to your ward ask Ronconi to come here.’
Dismissed, Bethan returned to the ward at a much slower pace than she’d left it.
She walked round a squad of young men sweeping the outside paths without really seeing them. Stepping over two unmarrieds who were scrubbing the corridor, she pushed open the double doors and entered the nursery where the babies were beginning to whimper. The twelve o’clock feeding time was still three-quarters of an hour away. It was just as well that the ward was virtually soundproof; another half an hour and the din would be unbearable.
‘Sister said would you please go to the delivery room the moment you get in,’ one of the ward maids ventured shyly as Bethan passed the table where the babies were changed.
Bethan tickled the squalling baby in the maid’s hands, before moving on.
Laura was taking the mother’s temperatures.
‘I’ll finish that,’ Bethan offered, washing her hands at one of the sinks, ‘Matron wants
Every speck of dust in awkward corners and every trivial misdemeanour committed by probationers and domestics came under her scrutiny. Laura had been called up before her more times than she cared to remember.
Bethan, with her more careful ways and healthier respect for authority, had never been in her office before now.
‘You know why I sent for you, Powell?’
Bethan slid nervously forward to the edge of her chair. ‘The results of my final nursing examination?’ she enquired hopefully.
Matron smiled in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but the gesture was wasted on Bethan. ‘You’ve passed, Powell. With distinction. Your name came top of your year.’
Bethan slumped in her chair. She’d passed. She’d really passed!
‘I’ve recommended you for midwifery training.’
‘Pardon, Matron?'
‘I’ve recommended you for midwifery training. It means another full year’s study and I warn you now, the examination for the midwifery certificate is not an easy one. But there’s a shortage of good midwives, and I believe you have the makings of a very good one indeed. Afterwards, may I suggest you complete the six months’ public health course? That will qualify you to work as a health visitor. God only knows,’ Matron added irreverently, ‘there’s an even greater shortage of those, particularly in this area.’
‘The midwifery certificate.’ As the words sank in so did their significance. Another full year on Squeers’ ward.
‘I know another year of study is an unappealing prospect, Nurse Powell …’
“Nurse Powell.” Someone in authority, someone other than the patients had actually said it …
‘But you will be on full pay while you train. Thirty-five shillings a week and a further five shillings when you qualify. You don’t have to make your decision now.’ Matron rose majestically and walked out from behind her desk. ‘Think it over and when you come to a decision make an appointment to see me. But remember,’ she cautioned, ‘you haven’t much time. The list of candidates has to be in by the end of the month. Should your decision be a positive one, the board would want to offer you a contract. One year initially.’
‘Yes, Matron. Thank you very much, Matron.’ Bethan struggled to regain her composure.
‘Is there anything you want to ask me?’ Matron enquired.
‘I can’t think of anything. Thank you.’ Bethan fumbled her way to the door. If she trained as a midwife, the board would offer her a contract - on Squeers’ ward! But if she passed it would mean two pounds a week. Two pounds!
She turned back as she reached the door.
‘I don’t need to think it over, Matron,’ she said quietly. ‘I’d like to put my name down for the course.’
‘Good,’ Matron beamed in approbation. ‘It will be hard. Studying as well as working full-time. But I think you’ll find it rewarding, and you’ve already proved that you have the aptitude. When you return to your ward ask Ronconi to come here.’
Dismissed, Bethan returned to the ward at a much slower pace than she’d left it.
She walked round a squad of young men sweeping the outside paths without really seeing them. Stepping over two unmarrieds who were scrubbing the corridor, she pushed open the double doors and entered the nursery where the babies were beginning to whimper. The twelve o’clock feeding time was still three-quarters of an hour away. It was just as well that the ward was virtually soundproof; another half an hour and the din would be unbearable.
‘Sister said would you please go to the delivery room the moment you get in,’ one of the ward maids ventured shyly as Bethan passed the table where the babies were changed.
Bethan tickled the squalling baby in the maid’s hands, before moving on.
Laura was taking the mother’s temperatures.
‘I’ll finish that,’ Bethan offered, washing her hands at one of the sinks, ‘Matron wants
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