WORST OF TIMES

…WORST OF TIMES

When I heard Andrew’s voice I longed to ask him how he was but a shutter came down in my brain - I had enough problems – I couldn’t risk complications.

‘No Andrew – I haven’t changed my mind.  Don’t worry about the dance I promise I won’t be there.’

A few days later I was told a number of times that Andrew had been at the dance.  One cheering thing – we had the results of the exam we took at Fever Hospital and I got 95%.  I looked forward to seeing Matron and basking in her approval for a change but she was on holiday.  Over a week elapsed before I heard from Jamie and then he said he was coming up.  I had started to get pre-visit nerves and this time had violent stomach pains on my day off.  Mum got the doctor who examined my poetry book and then examined me but NAD - nothing abnormal was discovered.

Diary entry autumn 1949
‘Feel excited about Friday but scared of anything going wrong and when he has gone back it will be so awful.’

My spirits alternated between elation and desolation and I longed to be on an even keel once more.  Sometimes I would say something that made him laugh and he would look at me with love and I would be happy again.  I told him about Andrew- I told him everything – there had to be complete trust.

Maddie went down to Oxbridge to join Paul for her birthday and when she came back I asked her about Jamie – looking to her for reassurance and there was none forthcoming – just vague hints.

‘He’s waiting for you to grow up.’ she said.

Jamie’s birthday was coming up.  We had a colour that was special to us – a soft coral tan that was the shade of lipstick I used- Tangee.  Jamie had bought me a beautiful mohair scarf in the same hue and I found some wool the same colour and decided to knit him some socks.  Maddie was an ace knitter – her needles would fly through the air whilst the garment grew at an amazing rate.  I however was all fingers and thumbs, but it seemed to me to be an act of love to put myself through the torture of knitting.  On four needles.  I had to endure everyone’s ribbing (sorry) but eventually the socks were finished with just one small hole where there shouldn’t have been.  Once I had darned it you would never have known.

I took him to meet the Millers whilst we were in Manchester and they were – as usual – very warm and friendly.  That night Jamie wanted us to stay in Manchester but we couldn’t afford it and I really needed to see my parents.  Perhaps I was being selfish and earned his disapproval.  That night in bed I sobbed silently so as not to disturb Gran.

The next hospital dance I peeked through the windows and saw Andrew.  He looked drunkish.  He didn’t come to another dance after that.  

One night Jamie phoned twice and didn’t get me- I phoned back and he wasn’t there.  I spoke to his landlord and thought he sounded strange.  Eventually had a letter saying it would be better not to phone him as he had to be out a lot and he would phone me.  My state of mind was beginning to be affected.  I carelessly put my hand in Oxalic acid which was painful but caused no lasting damage. One of our long standing older patients who was very ill was threshing about a lot and bashed my face with her fist. To my shame I burst into tears.

We all dreaded going to work in theatre for the first time and sure enough that was going to be my next assignment.  The pressure was high and the two theatre sisters –excellent at their job took no prisoners.  The first few days went well and then we had to autoclave rubber gloves to sterilise them.  The gloves were in the dangerous drugs cupboard and the keys were missing.  The engineer was called to break open the cupboard and there were the keys – locked inside.  I had been the last person to have them.  I was going to get my wish to see Matron – but not for the right reason.

My health was suffering; my work was suffering- I couldn’t go on like this.  Something had to give.