‘Oh darling, don’t get too upset.’
‘I want to go home,’ I mumbled into her ear. ‘I don’t like it here. I’m not ever going to get used to it.’
‘Oh dear, I know. It must be very frightening just at first, but we’re not all ogres, you know. All the nurses are very kind.’ She tucked the sheets in tight around me. ‘Close your eyes and you’ll go to sleep in no time.’
‘No I won’t. I need Albert Trunk!’
‘Who’s Albert, dear?’
‘He’s my elephant,’ I blurted out.
She looked so surprised I had to add, ‘He’s my toy,’ so she wouldn’t think I was mad, but it felt like a terrible betrayal because Albert was so real to me.
‘Oh, a toy,’ she said, giggling.
‘I had him all packed in my suitcase with my new cat pyjamas, but that other nurse won’t let me have him. She says he has to be fumigated,’ I wailed.
‘Oh dear. Yes, I’m afraid it’s a rule. But you’ll get him back soon, I promise.’
‘I need him now,’ I said. I suddenly realized that Snow White and Sooty and Marmalade would have to be fumigated too. I wasn’t quite sure what fumigation was, but it sounded terrible. I imagined a huge hot chamber and all my beloved pets herded inside and then gassed. It was such a terrible thought it became real and I burst out crying.
‘Oh sweetheart, there now! They’ll be back in a day or two. And meanwhile . . . Here, hang on a sec.’ She ran up the ward, her flat shoes squeaking on the polished floor. Nurse Patterson remonstrated but she took no notice.
I lay there snivelling, ducking my head right under my sheets, but it was no use. I was hardly making any noise but Martin had ears like a bat.
‘Cry-baby!’ he said scornfully. He cleared his throat. ‘Gobface is a cry-baby,’ he announced to the whole ward.
Nurse Curtis came dashing back clutching something. ‘Here, Elsie. He’ll keep you company until you get your elephant back,’ she said, and she thrust a large stuffed Donald Duck into my arms. ‘He’s from the little ones’ toy box in Potter Ward, but I’ll make sure you get to keep him as long as you need him. Night-night now.’
‘Night-night, Nurse. And thank you – thank you very much,’ I said, sniffing. I didn’t like Donald Duck. He’d never been my favourite cartoon character. I didn’t even care for his name. I’d had an Uncle Donald once when I was little, and he always tossed me up in the air or tickled me too hard. I’d been very glad when Mum got a new boyfriend to replace him.
This Donald Duck was old and faded and he smelled of hospitals. His felt skin made my nails twitch and his stiff beak stuck out rudely right in my face. Nevertheless I clung to him when Nurse Patterson switched the lights off. There was a desk light at the far end which glowed eerily in the dark.
‘Hey, Gobface, still grizzling?’ Martin called.
I didn’t have the spirit to retaliate this time. I lay there on my back, the tears seeping down my face and dribbling into my ears, while Donald Duck pecked at me.
The others whispered to one another for a while, and then their voices faded away. I could hear someone snoring. I thought it was Martin, but then his voice came hissing through the air: ‘Remember, Gobface, you’re in the Bed of Doom.’
I put my hands over my ears, hating him. I knew he was only saying it to frighten me, and yet this other boy, Robert, really had died in my bed, and recently too.
I wasn’t sure what happened when you died. Nan said you went up to heaven and wore a white nightie with fluffy white wings to match, and walked in gardens and thought beautiful thoughts. Mum laughed at that idea and said she thought it would be too boring, and if that was the case she’d sooner go downstairs to the Other Place, which sounded much more lively. But they didn’t seem serious, either of them. Maybe Robert hadn’t gone up to heaven or down to hell. Maybe he was still trapped here in the hospital? I looked up fearfully in case he was hovering above his old bed. I couldn’t see a ghost boy in the gloom, but maybe he’d been made invisible. Perhaps he was coming to take me away with him?
I hunched up in a little ball under the covers, not even daring to put my head on my pillow, but I must have gone to sleep. I dreamed of Donald Duck. We were paddling frantically on a choppy sea, trying to get away from the ghost who was going to get us. I could feel his cold hands pulling me down under the water. I kicked and struggled, and woke up fighting the sheets. I was still wet, though, as if . . .
Oh no. I lay in my sodden bed, my heart thumping. I’d wet myself! I hadn’t wet the bed since I was a baby. What was I going to do? What would Nurse Patterson say? She’d surely be cross, especially as I hadn’t used her wretched potty. All the other children in the ward would know. Martin would have a field day tormenting me.
I lay very still, willing this all to be a terrible nightmare. If only I had enough willpower, perhaps I could make myself wake up in my own bed at home, with Albert Trunk safe in my arms and Nan coming in to give me a cuddle . . . I shut my eyes tight and clenched my fists and squeezed my knees together and willed it to happen – but I stayed wet and lonely in the Bed of Doom. I could hear footsteps now, squeak, squeak across the polished floor, coming nearer and nearer.
‘Hello? Who have we here?’ It was a soft, gentle voice. Not Nurse Patterson, not Nurse Curtis – but one peep showed me a white hat with wings. Another nurse. I lay as still as I could, eyes shut again, breathing slowly in and out, even snuffling a little to sound as if I were snoring – but she wasn’t fooled.
‘It’s Elsie, isn’t it?’ she whispered. ‘I think you’re awake, aren’t you, poppet? And I think . . .’ Her hand slid under my covers and felt my damp sheet.
I held my breath, waiting for the slap, the shouting.
‘Your sheets are in a bit of a tangle,’ she said. ‘You need a nice new pair. Don’t worry, we’ll soon make you comfy.’
She walked off, checking each child as she went. She was walking stealthily now, almost on tiptoe, so that no one else would wake. I lay still, wondering if I might have imagined her – but then she was back with her arms full of clean linen. She didn’t snap on my light. In the darkness she lifted me out of bed as if I were a baby, took my wet nightgown off, wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, and gently washed me with a warm sponge. Then she put the clean new nightie on, and tucked me back in the blanket.
‘There, my little parcel!’ she whispered. ‘You wait there, sweetheart, and I’ll have your bed made in a jiffy.’
She was like a conjurer, wafting a sheet here and there, and suddenly working magic. My wet sheets were soon lying in a little bundle on the floor, my bed was made with fresh new ones and, wonder of wonders, when she lifted me back into bed, I felt a hot-water bottle carefully wrapped in a towel.
‘Newly made beds always feel a bit chilly,’ she said. She took my hands and rubbed them. ‘There, poor little frozen fingers! And who’s this?’ She took Donald Duck. ‘Do you want him tucked in too?’
‘Mmm . . .’ I couldn’t decide. I didn’t like him, but perhaps he was better than nothing. ‘I really want Albert Trunk, but that other nurse took him away,’ I said, in a tiny voice.
‘Oh dear. I suppose he has to be fumigated. But he’ll be back soon. Let’s pretend he’s gone on his holidays. Albert Trunk has packed his trunk. Has he got his pyjamas?’
‘No, he’s just got this little red felt saddle thing, but I’ve got pyjamas with special cats on, only that other nurse wouldn’t let me wear them.’
‘You’ll wear your own pyjamas soon, I promise. Cats, eh?’
‘Yes, white ones, with a pink background.’
‘Very pretty – and white cats. Perfect!’ she said. ‘Hey – purrfect, get it?’ She giggled very quietly and I did too. ‘I shall look forward to seeing your cat pyjamas, Elsie, but meanwhile, you might just find you have a white cat on your hospital nightgown. Just one – but she’s very, very big and soft and furry.’
I thought she was trying to help me imagine a cat, one stretching right acros
s my shoulders, though it was a little hard turning crisply ironed cotton into soft fur. But I was grateful for the thought, and so deeply thankful that she’d been so kind and tactful about my damp sheets, that I flung my arms about her neck when she bent close to tuck me in.
‘You’re the best nurse ever,’ I whispered. ‘What’s your name?’
‘I’m Nurse Gabriel, sweetheart.’
It seemed the perfect name for her. I watched her walk up the ward, seeing feathery wings bursting out of her blue nurse’s frock and a gold halo outlining her white cap.
I lay in my clean sheets, still a little lost and lonely, but immensely comforted. Then I felt something jump onto my bed. I stayed still, stunned, while it picked its way delicately towards my head. I put my hand out, trembling, and felt the softest fur, like thistledown. I stroked tentatively, and the cat started purring, rubbing her head under my hand, clearly telling me to keep on stroking. I held her with one hand and stroked with the other, from her head all the way down her body to the tip of her long tail.
She quivered, luxuriating, and turned round once, decided which way was more comfortable, then sat down on my chest, settling herself with a contented little sigh. I went on stroking her, not sure whether Nurse Gabriel had conjured her up out of nowhere or whether I was dreaming. I didn’t care. I lay still and listened to the cat purr until I drifted off to sleep.
WHEN I WOKE up to the clank of the washing trolley and the murmurs of my ward mates, I thought the white cat might just have been a dream. I wasn’t even sure Nurse Gabriel was real, though I was certainly in a clean dry bed. I peered hopefully at the nurse scurrying from child to child with her washcloth and soap, but she wasn’t remotely angelic. She was little and very fat, her elasticated belt stretched to the utmost, her bosoms like two huge blue balloons about to go pop at any moment.
‘Hello, little funny face,’ she said, rushing up to me.
I put my hands to my face, mortified. For a long time now I’d had a creeping suspicion that I was ugly. Mum often sighed when she brushed my hair and told not to pull that face – though I never knew quite what face it was I was pulling. Even Nan would push her thumb into one side of my mouth and her finger into the other, and go ‘Cheer up, chicken!’
I screwed up my face even more, trying not to think about Nan.
‘Hey, hey, don’t look such a saddo,’ said the fat nurse, pulling my hands away. ‘What’s your name, eh?’
‘Elsie Kettle,’ I mumbled.
‘Well, I’m Nurse Johnson. Now, you’re still under observation, so you can wash yourself like a good girl, as I’m all behind like the horse’s tail,’ she said. She gave me a bowl of warm water to balance on my knees. ‘Don’t you spill it, mind!’
I started to wash myself carefully – and then very nearly did spill the bowl when the beautiful blonde nurse came in with the food trolley. Her white cap sat neatly on her golden curls and her blue eyes shone as she smiled straight at me.
‘Hello, Elsie!’ she said.
‘Oh Nurse Gabriel!’ I said, overcome.
So she was real after all – and she truly was an angel. She behaved as if she were meeting me for the first time so that Martin and the others should not suspect a thing. She gave me my cornflakes with extra sugar and top of the milk, and she cut my toast into four neat quarters, just like Nan did.
She wasn’t just kind to me, she was kind to everyone, even horrible Martin. He said he wasn’t hungry and didn’t want his very-rude-word breakfast. Nurse Johnson heard, and gasped and said, ‘That child needs his mouth washing out with soap,’ and she held her cake of carbolic up threateningly.
‘It’s OK, Johnson, I’ll deal with the little monster,’ said Nurse Gabriel. ‘Little green monster, like the weeny man from space on your pyjamas, Martin Harwood.’
‘He’s not a monster, he’s the Mekon,’ said Martin scornfully. ‘He’s in the Eagle. Don’t you know anything?’
‘Oh, my head’s full of dull stuff like my Orthopaedics for Nurses book and the problem page in Woman’s Own,’ said Nurse Gabriel, laughing. ‘Maybe I’ll give myself a spot of serious instruction just now. Do you have a copy of the Eagle handy, Martin?’
‘It’s in my locker, you know it is,’ said Martin, but he didn’t sound cross now.
‘Well, here’s the deal,’ said Nurse Gabriel. ‘I’ll park myself beside you and we’ll read it together. I’ll find out all about Mr Mekon while you eat half your cornflakes. Is that a deal?’
‘I said, I’m not hungry,’ said Martin – but when Nurse Gabriel shrugged and seemed about to turn away, he added quickly, ‘But it’s a deal.’
She shook his hand and then gave him his comic. It was hard for him to read flat on his back, so after a moment or two she started reading it aloud, acting it all out solemnly, doing a gruff masculine voice for Dan Dare and a weird squeaky voice for the Mekon. As she read, she spooned cornflakes into Martin as if he were a baby. His mouth opened and he chewed and swallowed automatically. He burst out laughing at one point, spraying cornflakes, and Nurse Gabriel laughed too, and wiped the slurp from his chin all in one quick move.
‘You’re spoiling that boy,’ said Nurse Johnson, puffing past.
‘No, I’m spoiling myself – this Eagle comic is truly super,’ said Nurse Gabriel.
I watched her as she circled the ward, making almost every child laugh and eat with gusto. She was wonderful when it came to the dreaded toileting too, even constructing a blanket tent so that Gillian, the eldest girl with the ponytail, could have a little privacy.
I was starting to differentiate between all the other children too, so they weren’t just blurs in beds. By the end of the day I knew everyone’s name. In the row opposite were big Gillian with her ponytail, her whiny friend Rita, then two little girls who giggled together – Maureen with curly hair and little pink glasses, and Babette, with very short tufty hair as if some large grazing animal had been chewing on it. On one side of me I had Martin the rude boy, and on the other side was little Michael. Silent Angus in his plaster bed came last.
I looked hopefully at the girls, wondering if any of them might be my special friend. Rita hung on every word Gillian said, and often squeaked, ‘Oooh Gilly, you are awful!’ Maureen and Babette were much younger than me and didn’t seem interested in anyone else anyway.
It didn’t look as if I would have a friend here either – though I certainly had an enemy in Martin. All morning he whispered hoarsely about the Bed of Doom, even though I stuck my fingers in my ears and went, ‘La-la-la-la, can’t hear a sausage!’
Then a doctor in a white coat with a stethoscope round his neck came strolling into the ward with Sister Baker, the two nurses behind him – Nurse Patterson with her sticking-out ears, and curly-haired Nurse Curtis.
‘Where’s Nurse Gabriel?’ I asked anxiously.
‘She’s on nights. She’s gone off duty now. These are the day nurses. Don’t you know anything?’ said Martin.
‘And that’s the day doctor? What’s his name?’
‘Doctor Torture!’ Martin hissed. ‘Watch out, here he comes. He’s going to get you now, Gobface.’
I slid right down in my bed, hoping that the doctor would walk right past – and when he stopped and pulled the sheets off my face, I shut my eyes tight, pretending to be fast asleep.
‘Wakey wakey, little sleepyhead,’ he said. ‘I’m Doctor Tortel – and you must be Elsie.’ He tickled me gently under the chin.
I was still very frightened of what he might do to me, but I couldn’t be frightened of him. He examined my knee and the rest of my leg and my hip. Then he had me walk round my bed, humming softly as he watched.
‘Mmm – a clear case,’ he murmured. ‘Lucky it was spotted. I’ll confer with Sir David, but I’m pretty sure we’ll put her in a Thomas’s knee bed splint tomorrow.’
‘In Thomas’s one?’ I said.
Dr Tortel and Sister Baker and the nurses all laughed at me.
‘It’s just a silly name, cal
led after the man who invented it. It will be Elsie’s bed splint,’ said Dr Tortel.
‘I don’t want one,’ I told him.
‘You want to get better, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but not if I have to be tied up,’ I said firmly. ‘Not like the others.’
‘It doesn’t hurt, I promise. It’s just a little uncomfortable at times. Isn’t that right, Martin?’ the doctor said, turning his head.
‘No, it hurts terribly – especially her kind of splint,’ said Martin.
‘You’re a bad boy,’ said Dr Tortel, but he laughed. ‘Don’t you listen to Martin’s tall stories, Elsie. I think you two must be a similar age. You’ll soon be great pals.’
I stared after him as he walked down the ward. He might be a clever doctor but he was a very stupid man.
Martin clearly thought so too. ‘He’s mad. I wouldn’t be friends with you in a million years, Gobface,’ he hissed.
‘Now then, Martin, we all know you’re just missing Robert,’ said Nurse Curtis. ‘Look, will you lend Elsie your Eagle comic for a bit, sweetheart? I’m sure she’d like something fun to read while we’re finishing the rounds.’
‘I’m reading it,’ said Martin, struggling with it.
‘I don’t like the Eagle anyway,’ I lied. I’d never actually read it, but I liked the sound of the little green Mekon. I imagined him spinning down to Earth in his flying saucer, stepping straight into Blyton Ward, and zapping Martin with his evil ray-gun as he lay there helpless.
‘I’d sooner read my own Girl,’ I said firmly. ‘Will it be back from the fumigator’s yet, Nurse Curtis?’
‘Not yet, lovey. Give it a few days,’ she said.
I felt too depressed to look at the old Chicks’ Own comic she found for me in little Michael’s locker. It was te-di-ous ba-by rub-bish an-y-way, with all the words broken into little bits. I watched the toileting and then the terrible injections. My heart started thudding hard when Nurse Patterson came near me with that awful huge syringe, but she walked straight past and attacked Martin.