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Authors: Catrin Collier
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to see you.’
‘I’ll have to finish it,’ Laura moaned, ‘you’re wanted in the delivery room. Well?’ she demanded.
‘I’ve passed.’
‘Knew you would,’ Laura crowed. ‘Go on, you’d better get into the delivery room before sister has your guts for garters.’
‘I’ll take over, Ronconi.’ Staff Nurse Evans offered as she came into the ward from her tea break. ‘Congratulations, Nurse Powell, I heard about your distinction. Top of the year isn’t bad,’ she winked.
‘Typical,’ Laura griped with a grin on her face. ‘Leaving nothing for the rest of us to do.’
‘Going to study for your midwifery?’ Nurse Evans asked.
‘Yes,’ Bethan stammered, ‘Yes, I think so.’
‘You won’t catch me doing any more studying,’ Laura said emphatically.
‘You haven’t been offered the chance yet,’ Nurse Evans laughed. ‘Go on off with you, Ronconi, you too, Nurse Powell.’
Laura suddenly realised that she was on the brink of moving up from the ranks of the unqualified. She was leaving the ward as Ronconi, but she could return as Nurse. It felt good, very good indeed.
‘You’d best gown and mask up before you go into the delivery room,’ Nurse Evans warned Bethan. ‘Looks like a difficult one.’
When Bethan finally entered, she found Sister Church, Nurse Williams, the other staff nurse on the ward, and a doctor huddled around the bed.
‘Powell, at last’ Sister glared at Bethan above her mask.
‘Sorry, sister, I was with Matron.’
‘So I’ve been given to understand. Well, if you’d be kind enough to assist Doctor John and Nurse Williams here, I can get on with my other duties.’
Bethan took sister’s place alongside the bed. Maisie was lying on her back, her eyes rolling in agony, and even Bethan’s comparatively inexperienced eye could see that something was seriously wrong.
‘Chloroform, Nurse Williams,’ Dr John ordered.
His voice didn’t sound right to Bethan. She looked at his eyes, all that could be seen above the mask, and he nodded to her.
‘Nice to be working with you, Nurse Powell’
Flustered, she looked away. One of the first lessons she’d learned was that doctors never talked to nurses. They were incomparably above and beyond the nursing staff in every hospital hierarchy.
Besides, this Dr John was most definitely not the Dr John she knew. This Dr John was taller, broader and, judging by his voice, a good deal younger than the tall, thin, grey-haired man who visited the ward three mornings a week and sent Dr Lewis out on his emergencies.
Uncertain whether to reply or not she looked down at the bed, where Maisie had caught hold of her hand.
‘Bethan, is that you?’ Maisie squeezed her hand forcefully.
‘You know the patient, Nurse?’ The doctor’s voice was soft, carefully modulated for a sickroom.
‘We were at school together,’ Maisie gasped.
‘Old friends are the best, Maisie. That was quick, Nurse Williams,’ he said pleasantly as she returned with the chloroform, mask and bottle. ‘Right, Maisie, we’re going to put you to sleep for a while, and when you wake up the pain will have gone. Keep hold of Nurse Powell’s hand …’
‘Bethan,’ Maisie pleaded plaintively.
‘Right, Bethan’s hand.’ His eyes wrinkled in amusement.
‘Congratulations, Nurse Powell,’ Nurse Williams clamped the mask over Maisie’s face. ‘Top of the year and a distinction, I hear.’
Bethan mumbled a reply as the doctor prepared the chloroform drops. It would take her a while to get used to this camaraderie from senior staff, particularly if compliments were going to be offered over patients’ heads.
‘Well done, Nurse Powell,’ Dr John congratulated enthusiastically. ‘I had no idea I was working with such nursing talent. Now, if you could take over from Nurse Williams and steady the mask with your free hand?’
‘Yes, Doctor.’ Bethan took the mask and pressed it gently over Maisie’s nose. The girl’s eyes rounded in fear.
‘I’ll have to finish it,’ Laura moaned, ‘you’re wanted in the delivery room. Well?’ she demanded.
‘I’ve passed.’
‘Knew you would,’ Laura crowed. ‘Go on, you’d better get into the delivery room before sister has your guts for garters.’
‘I’ll take over, Ronconi.’ Staff Nurse Evans offered as she came into the ward from her tea break. ‘Congratulations, Nurse Powell, I heard about your distinction. Top of the year isn’t bad,’ she winked.
‘Typical,’ Laura griped with a grin on her face. ‘Leaving nothing for the rest of us to do.’
‘Going to study for your midwifery?’ Nurse Evans asked.
‘Yes,’ Bethan stammered, ‘Yes, I think so.’
‘You won’t catch me doing any more studying,’ Laura said emphatically.
‘You haven’t been offered the chance yet,’ Nurse Evans laughed. ‘Go on off with you, Ronconi, you too, Nurse Powell.’
Laura suddenly realised that she was on the brink of moving up from the ranks of the unqualified. She was leaving the ward as Ronconi, but she could return as Nurse. It felt good, very good indeed.
‘You’d best gown and mask up before you go into the delivery room,’ Nurse Evans warned Bethan. ‘Looks like a difficult one.’
When Bethan finally entered, she found Sister Church, Nurse Williams, the other staff nurse on the ward, and a doctor huddled around the bed.
‘Powell, at last’ Sister glared at Bethan above her mask.
‘Sorry, sister, I was with Matron.’
‘So I’ve been given to understand. Well, if you’d be kind enough to assist Doctor John and Nurse Williams here, I can get on with my other duties.’
Bethan took sister’s place alongside the bed. Maisie was lying on her back, her eyes rolling in agony, and even Bethan’s comparatively inexperienced eye could see that something was seriously wrong.
‘Chloroform, Nurse Williams,’ Dr John ordered.
His voice didn’t sound right to Bethan. She looked at his eyes, all that could be seen above the mask, and he nodded to her.
‘Nice to be working with you, Nurse Powell’
Flustered, she looked away. One of the first lessons she’d learned was that doctors never talked to nurses. They were incomparably above and beyond the nursing staff in every hospital hierarchy.
Besides, this Dr John was most definitely not the Dr John she knew. This Dr John was taller, broader and, judging by his voice, a good deal younger than the tall, thin, grey-haired man who visited the ward three mornings a week and sent Dr Lewis out on his emergencies.
Uncertain whether to reply or not she looked down at the bed, where Maisie had caught hold of her hand.
‘Bethan, is that you?’ Maisie squeezed her hand forcefully.
‘You know the patient, Nurse?’ The doctor’s voice was soft, carefully modulated for a sickroom.
‘We were at school together,’ Maisie gasped.
‘Old friends are the best, Maisie. That was quick, Nurse Williams,’ he said pleasantly as she returned with the chloroform, mask and bottle. ‘Right, Maisie, we’re going to put you to sleep for a while, and when you wake up the pain will have gone. Keep hold of Nurse Powell’s hand …’
‘Bethan,’ Maisie pleaded plaintively.
‘Right, Bethan’s hand.’ His eyes wrinkled in amusement.
‘Congratulations, Nurse Powell,’ Nurse Williams clamped the mask over Maisie’s face. ‘Top of the year and a distinction, I hear.’
Bethan mumbled a reply as the doctor prepared the chloroform drops. It would take her a while to get used to this camaraderie from senior staff, particularly if compliments were going to be offered over patients’ heads.
‘Well done, Nurse Powell,’ Dr John congratulated enthusiastically. ‘I had no idea I was working with such nursing talent. Now, if you could take over from Nurse Williams and steady the mask with your free hand?’
‘Yes, Doctor.’ Bethan took the mask and pressed it gently over Maisie’s nose. The girl’s eyes rounded in fear.
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