Call Me Sister (14 page)

‘Willie doing a Cordon Bleu cookery course?’

‘Ha! No, you silly chump! They’ve got a pair of hens who’ve moved in. Jock says the other ones don’t like them so they’re keeping Dilly and Dally inside until he makes a house for them. I don’t think he should bother. They seemed perfectly at home where they are.’

‘In their box?’

‘No! Perched on the back of the boys’ chairs.’ In a throwaway line, she added, ‘God help them if the sanny-manny calls.’

‘You can only mean the sanitary inspector.’

‘Yes. If he does visit the boys and starts complaining about their unconventional approach to domesticity, I’ll phone and tell him they’re all orphans and ask where’s his caring heart.’

I was cheered by the chat. ‘But what did Willie think of Dilly and Dally? I bet they were a surprise.’

‘Actually, he was too busy arguing with Jock about what telly programme to watch to think much about a couple of hens making themselves so at home. I’d never heard him so vocal. You wouldn’t think a trip outside four walls would change somebody so.’

‘Let’s hope the same applies to Miss Forbes,’ I said, putting down the phone and going to check up on LBP and her minders.

‘So that’s you back, and how’s the patient? She’d have been pleased to see you. By Jove, yes.’ Mrs Munro had answered the door. She had a ball of brightly coloured wool under her arm and a length of striped knitting in her hand. She nodded at it. ‘And look! You’ve caught me relaxing. With Himself out giving the doggy a walk, I thought I’d have a minute to myself otherwise that poor black bairn in Africa will be past needing his jersey.’

‘It’s early days for Miss Forbes,’ I said, ‘but I know a wee dog who’s landed on her feet. Her mum was really happy when I told her you were looking after her. Half her cure, I’d say but,’ I felt obliged to ask, ‘are you sure that having LBP isn’t a bother?’

‘What?’ Mrs Munro almost screamed. ‘It’s a pleasure. I haven’t seen Angus so happy for yonks. He’s out walking her at the moment. We think that a wee stroll on hard ground’ll help wear down her nails.’ She nudged me with her unoccupied elbow, mischief in her eyes. ‘And maybe it’ll help pare down Angus’s ones too. I’m always on at him to take exercise but he says that after a lifetime of walking after sheep, he feels daft doing it on his own.’

I joined in her laughter then felt a little ashamed when I saw Mr Munro coming towards us, looking so happy, a smile lit his craggy face. ‘Look who’s here,’ he said to LBP who, snuggled under his jacket, looked out from the top of it with the superior gaze of a grandstand spectator. The rubber band had gone and she now had a short fringe, which made her look like the good girl of the class.

Mr Munro explained, ‘I’m carrying her because she might be feeling the cold so soon after we’d bathed her and given her that wee haircut. Of course we’d to cut yon felt patches off her coat too.’ He patted the dog’s head proudly. ‘She was better behaved than any sheep being clipped.’ For a moment, he looked anxious. ‘You don’t think Miss Forbes will mind, do you, Sister?’

‘Apart from the fact that she might not recognise her, I think she’ll be delighted.’

‘We’ve been round to Rose Cottage,’ Mr Munro continued. ‘We thought we should check everything’s in order, didn’t we, LBP?’ He bent his head and she licked his nose enthusiastically. ‘I was thinking that the front gate needed fixing. I’m quite handy, you know.’ Turning up the palms of his hands, he spat on them then rubbed them together as if readying for work.

‘Angus!’ scolded his wife, ‘that’s so unhygienic. What will Sister be thinking?’

‘I’m thinking Miss Forbes will thank her lucky stars she’s got such good neighbours. And would you be thinking of visiting her yourselves?’

Mrs Munro was eager. ‘My! Yes! Surely! That’s a good idea! You know, when I was in at the post office I was telling the folk there that she’d been taken into Raigmore and, of course, you know what wee shops are like. Word’s got out and now everybody’s anxious to hear how she is. She’s so well thought of in the village but herself being so private and proud.’ Marking her respect for that, Mrs Munro put her hand to her mouth to muffle her voice. ‘Folk don’t like her to think they’re prying. But surely she won’t mind Angus and me calling, especially if she knows we’ve got LBP.’

‘I bet she’d love a visit, but maybe give her a day or two,’ I said.

As the Munros went inside and I turned for home, there came a sound like a creaking gate but from high above. I concentrated hard, wondering what it could be. Listening, I eventually realised that it was a lone goose calling for its fellow travellers. It sounded so forlorn that despite myself I made the connection. I too would miss my companion, even if she was smelly and had only been with me for one night.

By the end of the week, the snow was clearing and the LBP bouquet removed from the house in time for Ann coming back. She’d phoned to say that her mother was recovering. The same could be said for Miss Forbes, if to a lesser degree.

‘Himself and I went to see her yesterday,’ Mrs Munro had reported. ‘She says she’s feeling so much better she should be home, but the ward sister says she’s going nowhere until she accepts having a home help.’

‘Aye. That sister’s mebbe not the old school, but she’s fly enough to sort out her patients without them noticing,’ put in Mr Munro. ‘A bit like your injection, Sister. I never felt a thing.’

To my surprise, he’d been watching the needle go in. So was LBP, who sat at his feet, baring her teeth.

‘Crikey, that’s clean pearlies,’ I said, meanwhile stepping out of their range. ‘LBP could be leading a gleam team.’

‘Chewing on a butcher’s bone did that,’ Mrs Munro explained with a fond smile. ‘And once I knit a wee jacket for her, Angus’ll be able to give her a proper walk and that’ll really sort out her nails.’

The old man stood up, seeming full of purpose. ‘You know, Sister,’ he said, in his considering way, ‘I was thinking you don’t really have to be too smart to give injections.’

‘No?’

Mrs Munro, shocked, turned from cleaning the sink tap. ‘Angus!’

‘Well,
you
could easy do it. I mean, you’ve served your apprenticeship. I never heard one sheep complaining. And it would mean the nurses can get on with looking after other folk.’ Then, as if producing his killer line, he added, ‘And we wouldn’t be always anxious in case they slept in.’

I could have protested, but he had a point so I said, ‘What a great idea. It would give you far more independence and I reckon you’d be great at it, Mrs Munro. You keep everything so spotlessly clean and must have watched often enough. I bet you’ve thought to yourself you could do it, and far better too.’

She stepped back to admire the taps and bit her lip. ‘I suppose I could have a try, but I’d need to be watched, for the first whiley anyway.’

‘It’s a deal. Now, have you any messages for Miss Forbes? I’m planning to visit her this evening.’

Mr Munro reached for his cap. ‘Would you tell her I’m making that thing she calls a cat flap on her backdoor? We spoke about it when we visited her. It’ll be handy for LBP and now that I’ve fixed the front gate she’ll get the run of the whole garden. It’ll be grand if I can get it done before she gets home.’

Strangely, when I got to her bedside, it wasn’t Miss Forbes’s first topic of conversation. She looked better and was managing without the help of oxygen. Her lipstick had hit the right target and the hairnet was realigned. Still, she looked despondent.

‘You know,’ she said, looking round the place, ‘I’ve had a full life. I’ve been round the world with the guiding movement and had many an adventure on the way. So I’ve been fortunate. Lucky too for living in Muir of Ord. I didn’t realise so many people knew me or cared.’ She pointed to a pile of cards stacked on her locker. ‘But I’ve been guilty of shutting myself away. I’ve always been a coper and in charge of others, so it’s been hard for me to acknowledge I’ve needed help.’ Her voice trailed away as she fiddled with the buzzer’s cable.

‘I bet you’ll be surprised at how much better things will be for you back at home,’ I said. ‘It’s easy to get in a muddle when you’re feeling poorly, but if you’ve a home help, I’m sure she’ll help you get things on an even keel.’

I’d been careful what I’d said but Miss Forbes went on as if she hadn’t heard. ‘I used to think it’d be easier having a tinker’s life, not bothered by possessions and able to travel the freeways of life.’ She looked about her as if to check whether anybody was listening, then leant towards me. ‘But yesterday a patient was admitted. I was only heading for the toilet, otherwise I might not have seen her. I didn’t want to gawp but I couldn’t help but notice her. She had such beautiful bright red hair.’

I noted the past tense.

Miss Forbes continued, ‘A sharp-voiced woman came in with her, along with a couple of ambulance men. My! But she was loud for the size of her.’ Miss Forbes smiled as if paying tribute to a fellow foghorn. ‘Anyway, she said she’d found the girl slumped in a close, off the High Street. People weren’t paying any attention to her, thought she was a drunk, but this woman said she knew her and that any fool could see that she’d taken a fit.’

‘So she raised the alarm?’

‘She certainly did that. I don’t know who she was but she seemed to know her way about the place. Said the girl needed to go into the room opposite the office and get immediate attention.’

A burst of laughter came from the people visiting the patient in the bed next to Miss Forbes. It seemed to mock her evident sadness. She shrugged and gazed at a ward window, its flimsy curtains barely concealing a black night.

‘You know, Sister, I rather think that poor girl didn’t survive. Soon after she was admitted, a man with red curly hair came in. He must’ve been a relation. He sounded terribly upset. In the end there was such a lot of shouting the sharp-voiced woman led him away.’ Her voice trembled as she continued, ‘Soon after that, the girl went somewhere else too. It was after men came with something that sounded like a metal container on wheels. They must’ve taken her away. The sound of that thing was dreadful.’ She buried her face in her hands.

If I’d still been working here I supposed I’d have been so busy dealing with a patient’s death I might not have considered how it could affect others in the ward. Now, as a visitor, I saw such distress and the words stuck in my throat. All I could do was acknowledge Miss Forbes’s tears. Fishing around in her camelcoloured dressing gown hanging by the bedside, I found a man-sized hanky and handed it to her.

I thought about Dusty. It had to be her. I wondered how her brother would cope without her and where was he when she needed him most.

Later, I left Miss Forbes, now recovered enough to consider she had a future, and with a home help, a better one at that. As I drove out of Inverness I saw a group of men making for the brash lighting of a pub near Inverness’s harbour. They had someone familiar-looking with them. I figured they were supporting him in the best way they knew.

As for me, rosemary bushes might not grow wild or freely in the North of Scotland, but they do in other places and whenever I see one, I remember Miss Caird and Dusty and see their similarity.

With her mother better, Ann had returned and we were having a work-handover chat in her office. As she realigned a bottle of Savlon on its shelf, she sounded relaxed. ‘Well! You know you’ve practically put me out of a job. I used to worry how I’d fit in caring for anybody else needing as much attention as Miss Forbes and Mr Munro.’

‘They’ll still be delighted to see you,’ I said, ‘if only to show that they can manage with a little less input. Mind you, they’re both pretty busy. If Miss Forbes isn’t organising her home help she’s discussing garden improvements with Mr Munro.’

‘And what about LBP?’ Ann was dubious.

‘She’s looking great, apart from the candy-striped coat Mrs Munro knitted for her.’ I grimaced. ‘But at least she only has it on for walks. The Munros are giving her regular ones and that’s helping keep her nails down as well.’

I glanced over at the clinic’s shelving, hoping I’d put everything other than the Savlon in its accustomed place. Ann’s black bag, now minus LBP’s attentions, was nearly back to its former glory but she might find that the heavy-duty nail clippers stored inside were suffering from metal fatigue.

I took them out and showed them to her. ‘Look, Ann, I’m sorry, but these’ll need sharpening. Maybe instead of cutting their toenails I should have had your patients taking walks instead. I know you wanted me to help them bath but they wouldn’t allow me to do anything else.’

‘Hey! That’s all right!’ she protested. ‘Nobody’s going to die for the lack of a bath.’

‘They all took one look at me and decided that they were fine apart from their nails.’ I cast my eyes heavenwards. ‘Since then, word must have got out because I’ve had a load of folk wanting them done. Nail-clipper par excellence, that’s me!’

Ann was kind. ‘Ah, but you’ll have helped them to move easier as well as saved their sock toes from getting holes.’ She giggled. ‘Anyway, your secret’s safe. You’re telling me that you’re off to Fearn. It’s about twenty miles away so I’m sure that’s far enough away for a rumour to get lost. That’s Flora’s district – where’s she off to?’

I thought about the nurse I was to replace and explained that she was going on a childcare course. I added, ‘It starts on Monday. I’m having a few days off before, then I’ll go over on Sunday.’

‘I think the folk in Easter Ross take their Sabbaths seriously.’ Ann was wry. ‘The most they use their cars then is for taking them to church. If I was you, I’d avoid arriving when the service is over and the folk come out.’

Driving on a Sunday had its advantages. The road was almost traffic-free, but with lots of cars parked outside churches. It made driving through Evanton, Alness and Invergordon quick, and in the absence of snow, easy. I glanced at my watch. At this rate I was going to arrive early. Maybe I should slow down, admire the scenery, take my time.

Towards the west, snow-covered mountains dominated the skyline, whilst I was heading towards flat, fertile countryside stretching in a plain towards the east. There weren’t many trees on this route, but in my imagination I read weird alphabets formed by the bare-leaved branches of ash trees against a pale February sky. I fancied they told indecipherable tales borne and shaped by a rogue Siberian wind. In the distance, there were grey glimpses of a hungry sea, its bite marks showing in the uneven-looking coastline.