Leaving
Home
Chapter 5
“Oh look Mum look – the sea! Just
smell it.” Mum put her arm round my
shoulders.
“Y’ know luv St Anne’s is only a
cockstride from Blackpool” said Mum, “remember
when we used to go there fo’t Wakes Week before we got t’motorbike ant’side
car? It won’t seem strange after a day
or two.”
I knew she was trying to stop me
from getting upset at leaving her but I was more excited than anything.
.I was sixteen and was leaving
home. I would never live at home again.
‘Yer Dad an' me were right proud of
ya gettin’ such gud results Pat.
"Ya could’ve gon int’sixth form like Maddie"
‘Mum that’s not for me. I want to
get out in the world and do something practical – something that’s really
helping people. Nursing’s just the job;
I love children, the training’s free and
to cap it all I get my keep and nearly £5 a month salary. ‘
Mum chuckled “Knowin’ yoo ya won’t ‘ave
any problem spendin’ that m’lady.’
I wasn’t allowed to start training at the main
hospital until I was at least seventeen and a half so here I was about to start
my career at the Convalescent Home belonging to Royal Manchester Children’s
Hospital. I would be here for fourteen
months until I was old enough to become a student nurse.
These last few weeks had been the
most exciting of my life: the agony of waiting for the exam results, the joy
when I knew I’d passed and the realisation that I was leaving home. Dad had bought an old tin trunk for me.
“Dad - I can’t take that old rusty
thing.”
“Ya won’t recognise it w’en a’ve
finished wi’ it Pat,” and true to his word it ended up a smart, black, shiny
trunk with a pretty, pale blue inside and my initials painted on it in white.
Mum did her bit too; ignoring the
instructions to buy linen bags from a shop in Manchester she made them herself out of
calico. Then she embroidered my name on
them – PATRICIA DIXON BARNES R.M.C.H, in a dark red chain stitch. Both remained unique throughout my training.
The sun was shining, the sea was glistening and the tufted sand hills
made it so very different from soot- blackened Rossendale. I felt a thrill of excitement as we stood
outside this rambling, Gothic edifice that was to be my new home, the only
neighbour was a huge convent manned by black gowned nuns. Mum rang the bell.
“’Ello I’m Dotty!”
The door was opened by Dotty - a
large untidy looking woman with enormous hands dressed like a kitchen maid,
which indeed she turned out to be – and she was also more than a little
dotty. I tried to stifle my nervous giggles
and we were shown into Matron’s office. Any levity disappeared once we were
face to face with Miss Jones. She was elderly but spry, dressed in a
navy dress, with a scrubbed pink face and neat white hair just showing under a
lace cap tied with a bow under her chin.
The expression on her face was stern when she spoke to me but I noticed
her expression softened when she spoke to Mum
“She will have one day off a week and if it is convenient she may have
the night before off duty, so she could spend a night at home.” Then she turned to me.
“In all
circumstances the well being of the children must come first Nurse.”
The days were quite long – from 7 am till 8pm with
three hours off during the day: 10am till 1pm, 2pm to 5pm or 6pm to 10pm and we
had to take turns on night duty
She went on to tell my mother that
the other five probationers were a nice class of girl – apart from one;
“She’s not like us,’” she told my
mother.
Later I discovered she was talking about Lottie – a young Jewish girl
who had escaped from Austria
before the war. With her Lancashire
accent - only her curious phraseology betrayed her foreign-ness.
‘We better don’t do that Pat,” she
would say. She was one of the kindest
people I have ever met and this was the first time I had come across anti-Semitism.
The hierarchy was Matron, Staff
Nurse (known as Staffie), Assistant Nurse (an older experienced but untrained
nurse) and six probationers.
At last we were dismissed and it was time to say goodbye to Mum. Flinging my arms round her I felt my eyes
begin to prickle but Mum gave me a little shake and said.
‘”Now jus’ be’ave yerself Pat,” and
she was gone.
The senior nurse Maxi – short for Maxwell, took charge and as she led me
up flights of stairs to my bedroom at the very top of the building she told me:
“We had another nurse starting
today called Mather. You’ll be sharing a
room but because she got here first she’ll be senior to you.”
With two maids and Mrs Mack the
cook it was an all feminine household apart from Mr Moorland - the boiler man -
who came in each day to tend the monster in the cellar.
No time to feel homesick – Maxi
showed me my uniform and how to make the flat, starched, white square into a
hat like hers, anchored with hair grips.
‘”Mind you keep your hair off your
collar Barnes or Matron will be after you.
Then you’ll either have to have it cut or put it up. Make sure there are no ladders in your
stockings and clean your shoes every night.”
I was allowed to spend the rest of the day in mufti and joined the other
nurses in the dining room for tea.
Mather was already there and the senior nurses Maxi and Lottie filled us
in on the daily routine. We would be on
duty at 7am when we would help the night nurse to wash and dress the children
ready for breakfast in the children’s dining room. Staffie would decide who did what and the
assistant nurse would help to supervise.
It seemed strange being called by
my surname all the time but I supposed I would get used to it. There could be
up to 30 children and if there were babies one nurse would be designated as
baby nurse. The nurses have breakfast at
8am whilst one nurse stays with the children.
Maxi told me:
‘The children are never left alone
during the day. Once every one had been
cleaned and tidied and their heads checked for nits, the medicines and
treatments are given. By the way nits
are another reason for keeping your hair off your collar.’
I noticed Maxi’s hair was scraped back off her
face and was barely visible at the back
She told me some of us would take
the children out to romp on the sand hills and the rest would make the beds in
the boys and girls ward. We would be
shown how to make hospital corners and should make sure all the bed casters
were neatly facing inwards and the pillow case openings placed away from the door.
Attention to detail was paramount.
If the weather was bad we would take the children to the play room and
organise games trying to keep the noise level at a reasonable volume so as not
to disturb Matron. Lunch for the
children was at 12 mid day and 1pm for us whilst the children had a rest
period. Then more playing or taking them
for a walk and after tea, we would read stories to them and concentrate on
getting them in a more subdued frame of mind before bath and bed-time. I often think how much easier it would be for
parents if they did the same.
“Do you intend to go to Pen,” Maxi
asked? When she saw my look of
bewilderment she explained that the main hospital – where all the probationers
hoped to end up - was always referred to as ‘Pendlebury’ or ‘Pen’ as that was
the name of the hamlet where the hospital was situated. As head nurse Maxi was quite bossy to us
nurses but her demeanour changed totally when Matron was around. They obviously had a good rapport and she could
get a smile out of Matron- especially when she talked about her home town –
which happened to be Wigan.
Meanwhile I had come to like Lottie
- the Jewish girl Matron had referred to.
She was warm and friendly and I was grateful for her company
Mostly the children came from the Manchester slums and it
was heart warming to see the difference three weeks TLC could
make. They arrived pasty-faced, often flea-ridden and with lice -
listless little creatures, and usually left rosy-cheeked, clean, well fed and
boisterous. There were exceptions; one little girl – Lily aged about
eight was a sad little creature.
“Lottie try as I might I can’t get
Lily to look clean and even now when we’ve got her with a clean head her hair
is as dry as dust – not a trace of a shine.
Most of the kids love a goodnight hug but she seems to be immune from
any sign of affection.”
“I don’t expect she knows what it
is and just keeps her head down. God knows what some of these children have to
cope with. At least they no longer have the bombing.
Just do the best you can.”
One night I had a phone call from Maddie.
“Pat I’ll be going back up to Oxford at the end of the
week so I thought I’d pop over and see you.”
“Oh lovely – I have a 2 to 5pm off
duty on Thursday, if you come here then we can wander into St Anne’s. There’s a nice cafe – I’ll treat you to a
cuppa.”
Matron had gone on holiday soon after my arrival, and there was a
relaxed, easy going atmosphere which I mistakenly took to be the
norm. Typically at the last minute Maddie changed the plan; she had
a friend a few miles up the coast in Blackpool
and she said I was to take a tram there and we would all meet up for tea.
The tram took forever and by
the time we met up in the café it was almost time to leave.
“Oh Maddie I didn’t realise it was
so far - I should be starting back now.”
“Nonsense you must have some tea
and talk to Betty or she’ll think you’re being rude.”
I choked down tea and toasted
tea-cakes for another ghastly fifteen minutes. By the time I got the
tram I was a nervous wreck - Maddie’s laughter echoing in my ears
. When the tram stopped
outside the home all the staff seemed to be hanging out of the windows, staring
accusingly at me. I should have been in uniform, on duty, ten
minutes ago.
After a brief telling off Staffie
seemed to be fine about it but next day, when Matron returned, I was told to be
in her office first thing in the morning.
I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Maddie and I now lived in
different worlds with different strictures and it was always going to be
so.
Outside Matron’s office trying to breathe deeply to calm myself my heart
was thudding as it always did when I was frightened. I rubbed my
shoes in turn, against my black stocking-ed calves and they gleamed against the
parquet floor. My hair was well off my collar – apron, collar and
cuffs a pristine white – like my face – no ladders in my stockings - I’d be fine - but I found myself
gulping every time I remembered why I was standing there.
Lottie came through the hall ushering
children into the dining room. She winked and gave me a sympathetic
grin. I knocked on the heavy oak door. No
answer. I knocked a little harder.
“Come in Nurse.”
My hand shook as I reached for the handle and I had to grip hard to turn
it. Matron was at her desk in front of the window and the morning
sun hit me like a spotlight, dazzling me so I couldn’t see Matron’s expression
but her tone was severe.
“Do you know why you are here Nurse Barnes?”
“Yes Matron - I was late getting back on duty. I’m very sor…”
“Not only were you late, you chose to do it whilst I was away. Have
you any idea of the concern this caused Staff Nurse and indeed all the staff?”
“I didn’t think Matron I…”
“How long have you been here Nurse Barnes?”
“This is my third week Matron. I started on August 12th.”
“Yes Nurse and I took you on trust having been given a very good report from
your school. I’m now wondering if we made a mistake.”
Oh God, I thought, she’s going to throw me out. How can I face
everybody at home?
“I want you to think very seriously about the consequence of your
actions. Do you want to be accepted at the Hospital to embark on
three years training or are you just filling in time until something better
comes along?”
“Oh no Matron I’m really serious about becoming a Sick Children’s Nurse and taking
my R.S.C.N. I’m sssso sorry to have let you down. I
pppppromise…” I was stuttering.
“You see Nurse, not only have you let me down, you have let down the whole
staff and the children. You have let your school down, your parents
and finally yourself.”
My voice was choked with sobs.
“I’m so sorry Matron.’ came out in
a gasping whisper. I still couldn’t see Matron’s face but her voice
was less severe when she said,
“Now go to your room, wash your face and when you have calmed down, go and join
the nurses in the dining room. Staff Nurse and I will be watching
you very closely. The rest is up to you.”
“Thank you Matron.” I whispered and stumbled out of the door.
In my room after a jolly good cry, I washed my face and told myself I was going
to concentrate on being the best bloody nurse in the building. And
no-one, not Maddie, not anyone was ever going to get me to do something I felt
was wrong.
…
Matron had a friend called Reg- a middle aged bachelor who was like an
honorary nephew to her and a kind uncle to us probationers.
“Now who is this young lady – I
don’t believe we have met? Hello my dear
- I’m Reg.”
I looked up at him – he had a nice
smile and kindly blue eyes.
“Hello. I’m Nurse Barnes.”
Reg’s eyes twinkled.
“Well from now on you’re Binnie –
after Binnie Barnes, the music hall star!”
Reg was a devotee of the theatre
and frequently treated all the staff to shows in Blackpool. He knew all about my disgrace and told me,
very kindly, that I must be sure never to do anything like that again. Overnight I became ‘Binnie’ to the whole
household – except Matron of course. It
did feel a shade friendlier than plain ‘Barnes’ and I was very grateful to Reg.
Things looked brighter after a few days and I received my first
salary. I got £5 a month - not bad when you consider we had
excellent bed and board and our laundry was free. My only expense
was the bus fare home. I started a savings account where you bought
stamps from the Post Office and stuck them in a book. But first I
bought a cigarette lighter and had it engraved ‘To Pop from Pat’.
I can still remember Dad’s face when I gave it to him on my next day off.
‘Eeh Pat – ya shu’n’t be spendin’ yer
money on me.’
Whoever said it is more blessed to
give than to receive certainly got that right.
I had a letter from Liam, Jamie’s brother - he told me Jamie had
won a place at his college in Oxford
and was reading Chemistry (poor devil) and rowing with Liam - that’s rowing in
a boat - not fighting.
It was my turn to go on night duty. This involved being up all
night alone - potty-ing and changing the babies and toddlers every four hours,
being on call in case of problems and keeping the boiler alight. I should be able to manage that I
thought.
All seemed to be well on my first
night on duty. Gradually the staff drifted off to their bed-rooms,
the children were settled and I marvelled at the deathly stillness replacing
the sound of the children’s daily laughter, squeals and cries. The
lights were dimmed and as I crossed the hall to climb the stairs - the
children’s wards were on the first floor, I tried not to notice the shadows
lurking everywhere.
“Nurse I’ve been sick.” In the boy’s ward I found that Tommy Foster had indeed
been sick. After sponging and comforting him I put him in one of the
empty beds and started to change his own whereupon he was sick again. By
the time I had changed both beds and settled Tommy down, there was a lot of
bed-linen to sluice. Then it was time to change the babies and toddlers. Sundries
were what we called the nappies or diapers of today. They were made
of towelling, were not disposable and it was the job of the junior nurse to
sluice them before they went to the laundry.
When all was finished I went down to
the tiny Nurses sitting room to have the meal which had been left out for
me. Somehow, smoked haddock salad and tapioca pudding had lost its
charm and then, oh crikey, I remembered my other duty - the boiler – which
should have been tended some time ago. Bracing myself I crept down
into the bowels of the cellar. There was
a stifling smell. The wretched monster
was completely out. I tried raking it with one of the iron
implements and nearly choked with noxious fumes. Coughing and
spluttering I escaped up the steps. I’d really done it now; the
Home would have no heating or hot water and Matron would surely kill me.
There in the hall was my Guardian Angel – Lottie in her pyjamas.
“You’ve let the boiler out Binnie, haven’t you?”
“Oh Lottie what shall I do?”
“Find as much newspaper as you can and
bring it down to me in the cellar.”
When I joined her, laden with
all the news print I could find, Lottie, her face covered with a surgical mask
was raking enormous pieces of coral-like clinker. Then she showed me
how to make tight parcels out of the paper leaving a little tab in one
corner. She packed these parcels into
the cavernous mouth and then plastered them with great dollops of floor
polish. Just one match to the tabs and WHOOSH – we had lift- off.
Matron was right - she was ‘not one
of us’ – she was one in a million.
One of the reasons I didn’t mind night
duty, was because it gave me a break from my room-mate, Nurse Mather, whose
personal hygiene was questionable, who told outrageous porkies and was getting
odder by the day. We all had access to each other’s rooms –
including the maids - and none of us thought to lock anything away, so it was
upsetting for all when I discovered my new savings book had vanished from the
drawer.
Matron started an investigation and after a
lot of to-ing and fro-ing the assistant in the Post Office identified Mather as
the person who had cashed the stamps - all £3 - 10 shillings - my total savings
and over half a month’s salary.
I was called to Matron’s office.
“Now Nurse I have informed the
General Office at the Hospital and they have said that because both the
assistant at the Post Office and Nurse Mather are under age, no action can be
taken.”
All I wanted was my hard- earned savings
returned. Matron was very sympathetic.
“What I can do Nurse is move Nurse
Mather out of your room.”
“But Matron will that mean someone
else has to share with her?”
‘”Yes I’m afraid so.”
“Then I’d rather you left things as
they are Matron.”
Matron seemed to have forgotten my
earlier laxity and now treated me as a valued member of staff. I had come to like her and respect her
except for the one thing. Why had she spoken to Mum and me about Lottie like
that – just because she was Jewish?
When my seventeenth birthday was
approaching Mather told Lottie she couldn’t think what to give me and Lottie
suggested she gave me back the £3 – 10s. She never did, but left quite
soon after that. It seemed, or so she said, she was secretly engaged
to a doctor and they were going to be married. Sighs of relief all
round. A new Nurse would be arriving, she would be junior to me and
with any luck she would be a kindred spirit.
Matron heard that Winston Churchill was going to be driving from A to B
on the coast which meant he would have to drive past us.
“Nurse Barnes I want you
to make sure all the children are clean and tidy and then Staff Nurse will
show you where to stand outside on the pavement.”
We all lined up, staff and
children, and cheered when we saw his black limousine. The sight of
the children and our uniforms had the desired effect and the car slowed down
whilst Winnie beamed at us and gave his special V-sign. He looked
like an ancient baby with a seraphic grin and the palest pink skin.
I felt sorry for him. He was very harsh towards the workers during
the General Strike
in the twenties, but he had been at
the helm during ‘England’s
Finest Hour’ in WW2.
That was a time when people were
kind and caring to complete strangers.
We were united with our allies, the Yanks and the Ruskies fighting – as
we believed - for good against evil.
Then at the end of the war the men returning from the Forces and
the working classes wanted social justice for all and got rid of Churchill the
Tory.
In our Convalescent Home not only the
children thrived on the clean, fresh air and nutritious food. Mrs
Mack was a good plain cook and we hungry teen-agers devoured everything she put
in front of us. Our big treat on pay-day was to take the tram after lunch, up
the coast to Handey’s Café at Bispham, and have chicken and chips followed by
sherry trifle, then back in time for tea. What little pigs we
were.
The best part of the job was the
children- some only a couple of years younger than us. One boy –
Joseph - a scruffy, shaven- headed lad, used to sing a mournful dirge.
Mother I love you,
I will work for you,
Don’t let those tears roll down your cheeks,
I’ll bring my wage home to you every week,
Mother I love you,
What more can a loving son do?
You’ve worked for me a long, long time,
And now I will wo-ork for you.
He got sadder
and sadder until the last line when he would change from minor to major, and
bellow the line triumphantly with a cheeky grin.
We weren’t meant to have favourites
but we were completely won over by helpless little babies and although we were
rigorous in treating all the children alike some were more appealing than
others. Billy was a small boy about six
years old. He happened to be wearing an apple green shirt when he was admitted
and his eyes were the exact matching shade. I asked him what his name was, as
usual, and he blinked and started to stammer:
“Bbbbbbbbb…” I looked at his notes
and said,
“Of course you’re Billy. I think you are going to like it here
Billy. My name is Nurse Barnes,” and
gave him a welcoming hug. I tried to
keep an eye on him so he didn’t get distressed when trying to speak and to make
sure he wasn’t teased by the others.
We all got a shock when we were roused
in the middle of the night.
“Get dressed Nurses put your cloaks
on and gather in the hall as soon as possible!”
White- faced, Matron
told us that Billy Roberts – my little green - eyed boy was
missing. When the Night Nurse had gone to do the 2am round she had
found his bed empty.
“All of the building has been
searched and now we must go out and scour the surrounding area.” Matron’s voice was a bit shaky.
These were more innocent times but
we were on the edge of the sea and we were worried sick. The Nuns in
the Convent next door were enlisted to help and we all fanned out and searched
up and down the sand hills. It was very dark, our lanterns and
torches weren’t much help and our shoes filled with the soft sand. After
an hour or so we heard the chilling boom of the Convent Bell and slowly
returned to base.
Incredibly, Matron was smiling.
“All is well Nurses. Thank you for searching for our little boy.
Billy had got up in the night to go to the bathroom, got lost on the way back
and ended up in a clean empty bed in the girl’s ward, confusing us all but
all’s well that ends well.”
We had been in such a panic
that no-one thought to count the children but the relief was so great there
were no post-mortems.
It was bound to happen, sooner or later: one night I complained that my
head felt itchy.
“It’s the starch in our caps,” Maxi said. “Here
let me have a look,” said Lottie.
She looked behind my ears and
pronounced, “Binnie’s got nits!”
“Well,” said Maxi “if Binnie’s got
nits we’ll all have nits!”
So we had to undergo strong
smelling Sassafras compresses and twice daily tooth combing until we were clear
again. There were no more problems of
hair on the collar and to this day I NEVER rest my head against the seat
upholstery in trains or public places.
Sadly Lottie decided she wanted to
get a job near her brother and wouldn’t be going to Pendlebury. I would
really miss her friendship and kindness.
Staffie also was leaving so there would be two new faces.
I knew we were going to be friends as soon as
I saw Annie, the new probationer. We came from very different backgrounds; her
father was a Lancashire mill owner and had a farm in Scotland, but there was no side to
her. She was big and buxom and her natural expression was a chuckley grin. It
was hilarious when she put on her posh accent:
“Just remember girls I’ve been
educated at a school for ‘The Daughters of Gentlemen'.”
We were to share a room and thence
started one of the happiest periods I remember.
It was a hot summer and when we
came off duty we hauled our mattresses out on to the fire escape overlooking
the sea and took it in turns to read aloud from 'The Albatross of Living Verse'
which Maddie had given me for my 16th birthday. Falling asleep in the moonlight to the rise
and fall of the tide with a chocolate in our mouths and Tennyson in our heads
was an early taste of bliss.
Underneath Annie's jolly exterior she was insecure. At her coming of age
her father had given her an XK 120 Jaguar car and an ocelot fur coat.
“All my boy friends just want to
drive my car.”
I went home with her one day and
met her parents. Her father was like Annie - no side and down to earth. He said
he was very glad Annie and I were friends and would be training together at
Pendlebury. Her mother was friendly but
quite grand and her older sister was both posh and glamorous. When Annie came
to my home to visit, she fitted in at once and everybody liked her. Gran was on
one of her visits to the States so it was less crowded than usual.
For some time I had been feeling
nervous about starting at Pendlebury - no more romping with the children and
sleeping out on the fire escape; life would get much more serious with very
sick patients in our care and lots of exams – both practical and
theoretical. It was such a relief to
know that Annie would be there too.
