‘Is there something else, Mrs Lancaster?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I suppose I have too much time on my hands – I spend a lot of my day thinking.’
‘Perhaps voluntary work, Mrs Lancaster. You have skills that come highly valued. Not many lady volunteers are experienced surgical nurses. I can think of several charities that would be thrilled to have someone like you. If that doesn’t appeal, I do have some clients who find distraction through keeping a journal; a collection of their thoughts and feelings, some say it helps.’
That sounded terrible, but I made a face that suggested I considered it a good idea.
‘Other than that, you should try and relax and enjoy being married. You have time, Mrs Lancaster. Lots of it,’ he said.
My eyes darted about the room, trying to avoid his. They had adjusted to the light. I picked out large, worn books of illegible writing in a language I didn’t recognise. The specimens in jars were now revealed to be real pieces of flesh: organs and skin in formaldehyde. My eyes fixed on the bottom half of a face floating in yellow liquid, the skin peeled from below the person’s eyes, the lips intact, the skin covered in lesions.
‘I have an interest in diseases of the skin,’ said Dr Shivershev.
‘Oh.’
Next to the face there was a mouth with a fleshy tongue and long tentacles like fingers surrounding it.
‘What is that?’ I asked. ‘I’ve never seen such an organ.’
‘That’s a sea creature. It’s for decoration,’ he said.
I was still looking at it when he added, ‘You were a companion of that nurse…?’
I stopped breathing, pulled my shoulders back like Thomas had taught me, and cut him off before he could continue. ‘Sister Barnard,’ I said. ‘Yes. We shared a room.’
‘Would you describe yourselves as close?’ he asked.
Why would he be asking about that? ‘Sister Barnard was a very good nurse. We worked together well.’
‘I recall seeing you together, always a pair, like twins, apart from the height difference of course, bobbing about the hospital like a pair of penguins.’
I knew I must be careful. Others at the hospital had gossiped. I only hoped Thomas never heard this. It would be something else unnatural to accuse me of.
‘Yes, but I am married now. I am happy,’ I replied.
‘Of course you are.’
I was being ushered out of the door, but I had to clear up one last thing.
‘Dr Shivershev, can I be sure our discussions will remain private?’
‘Why do you ask?’ He was obviously offended.
‘You know Thomas personally, so I wanted to be sure that our conversations will remain between us. I would not want to be the subject of discussion between men, however professional.’
He laughed, which struck me as odd, and I realised I’d never seen him laugh before.
‘Mrs Lancaster, as long as your husband pays the bill, I can’t imagine I’ll be discussing anything at all with him.’
12
Aisling started at the London a few weeks after me. She never explained why she arrived so late and was always loath to talk about her background except in the loosest of terms. She would make a joke and steer the conversation in another direction, such was her way. I think she thought she rather got away with this technique, but I never pried because we all had our secrets, so I let her think her little method of throwing me off effective. I knew her father was uneducated in the traditional sense, but well connected; he had status as a landowner with a respected knowledge of horses.
Lectures took place in a classroom, which made our training much like being at school as a young girl. We had to study a great deal of theory before they let us near a real patient, and much of it was banal: bedmaking, washing patients, bandaging, padding splints, preventing the spread of infectious diseases, how to observe and report symptoms. For weeks we were forced to sit and write for hours at a time and then complete test after test; it was torture.
I distinctly remember the moment Aisling arrived. We fresh-faced recruits were dutifully absorbing the wisdom of a ward sister who relished her role and influence rather too much. She was making the most of her captive audience and labouring every point with a flourish worthy of a member of parliament.
‘A nurse must be prompt and intelligent, but above all of this, obedience is the distinguishing quality. Trustworthiness is also essential, for one must be relied upon. A nurse must adopt a kindly and pleasant manner; if she doesn’t have one naturally, she must conjure one, out of thin air if needs be. She cannot tire, grow bored of her duties or become weary of the unending churn of human suffering that she will toil to alleviate every day of her earthly life. Her reward comes with the satisfaction of pursuing a higher purpose and gaining the camaraderie of her fellow nurses.’
I was about to let my head hit the table with the boredom of it when the back door creaked open and in walked
