Call Me Sister (7 page)

Then I heard a giggle. It came from upstairs.

‘Hello?’ I called from the huge hallway. My footsteps echoing on the wooden floor were suddenly muffled by a tiger skin. A stopped grandfather clock said it was midnight.

‘Ooops! Sorry,’ I said, suddenly aware of being watched. But it was only the glazed eyes of a stag, its head mounted on the wall at the top of the stairs, the carpet of which was threadbare. More care had been lavished on the brass rods securing it. I suspected the Saunders-Hewitts hadn’t been responsible for their bright gleam, but probably were the source of noises coming from above.

As I climbed the stairs, I held my nursing bag before me, trusting that both it and my uniform would identify me as their nurse. As I went I interspersed my helloes with discreet coughs. I could hear the sounds were coming from a room at the end of a wood-panelled corridor.

It was in darkness. Maybe I’d the wrong room but before I went to turn back, a bedside light was switched on.

‘Oh! Look what we’ve got, Charles. It’s a dear little nurse!’ The light shone on a large stone on a thin finger of an elderly lady who had the sleek elegance of a greyhound. She was still in bed along with , I presumed and rather hoped, my patient. She must have liked jewellery because she also wore pearls. He favoured a cravat and as far as I could see without actually staring, not much else.

He said, ‘By Jove, it is. Ha! We shought you might be a burglar. But come in, do, do!’ He nudged his partner. ‘We inshist, don’t we, Ginny?’

‘Rather!’ Ginny was enthusiastic.

An empty sherry bottle lay on the floor. It might explain Charles’s ruddy complexion, the couple’s cheery way and a few other things I didn’t care to explore.

Aiming my gaze at an oil painting of a stag in better health than the one on the staircase, I said, ‘Oooh, sorry. Look! I’ll come back in an hour.’

Ginny shot up. She wasn’t wearing anything either. ‘No, my dear! You mustn’t. We’ll get a frightful row from Sister Shiach if she hears we’ve been messing up your routine. It’s just we weren’t expecting you so soon. She did tell us you’d be coming but she didn’t say you’d be so young.’ Now, she didn’t sound so pleased but continued, ‘Only we didn’t know when.’

Charles rubbed his hands and tidied his moustache over large yellow teeth. If it hadn’t been for the sherry bottle I might have thought he’d had a stroke as he slurred, ‘She didn’t shay to expeck a young filly though, did she?’ His eyes gleamed.

I’d a quick think. Whatever hazard he might present, naked or otherwise, I needed to get him sober. I moved to the curtains and jerked them open. The little metal wheels securing them to a rail screamed.

‘I shay!’ Charles put his hands over his ears whilst Ginny fumbled in the bedclothes. ‘Where’s those dratted gaspers?’ She had the wheeze of an enthusiastic smoker. ‘Charles darling, have you got the lighter?’

One minute I’m trying to get a patient warm in bed and the next I’m trying to stop one going on fire, I thought, deciding on a brisk approach.

‘I’m a great believer in the restorative power of fresh air,’ I declared, and shot up the window. A chilly draught accompanied my words. ‘Now, I’m going to pop downstairs, make you something to drink and once you’ve had that, you’ll be ready for your bath, Captain.’

‘Brrh! Ginny, put down your chiggy and warm me up.’ My patient had burrowed down under the bedclothes, leaving just his eyes and moustache visible. The bedclothes started to move as if alive.

Ginny slapped at them, inhaling as deeply as someone gasping for air. ‘Ooh, you naughty boy!’ Casually, she put her cigarette to the side.

If it hadn’t been for the fire risk I might just have left them to it, said I’d call another day. Instead I made a big show of shoving the window up another couple of inches then, promising a swift return, hurried downstairs.

I left the kitchen door open and made the kettle whistle several times, hoping it would have alerted the Saunders-Hewitts to progress. When I carried two cups of strong Camp Coff ee back upstairs, Charles was sitting up and now wearing silk pyjamas so grand they could do for a state occasion.

‘What a dishturber of the peashe you are,’ he complained. ‘Jusht when Ginny and I were shettling down again, I’d to get up and dreshed to shut that damn window.’ He looked at the coff ee. ‘And I don’t want thish. I shuspect it tashtes vile.’

‘I’d be happier if you did drink it,’ I said, pleased at the bad temper. He must be sobering up. ‘Sister Shiach said you liked something strong to start you for the day. I’m presuming she meant coffee. I have to meet her quite soon.’ I made a big play of consulting my watch. ‘We’re running a bit out of time, I’d hate to have to tell her you’ve missed out on your bath.’

Ginny plucked his arm. ‘Just do as the wee nursie says. We mustn’t upset Sister Shiach.’ She gave a genteel hiccup, smoothed back her grey hair and placed a finger over her lips. ‘Oooh, excuse me.’ The red nail varnish showed vivid against her pale face.

Leaving the Captain unhappily slurping, I looked for the bathroom and found a huge room with an enormous bath in the middle of it. Some worrying plumbing noises came from a towel rail with bars the size of organ pipes. But at least it was warming the large monogrammed towel laid over it and took the chill from the high-ceilinged room.

‘Always run cold water first in any bath. You don’t want to scald your patient.’ Remembering a past nursing tutor’s advice, I turned on the tap. Water gushed from it as if it came from the Falls of Glomach and was so noisy I didn’t hear my patient arriving.

‘No!’ I cried, but too late. He’d thrown away his pyjamas, and before I could stop him, he’d plunged into a bath half-full of freezing water.

Jomo wagged his tail and cocked his head as he watched his mistress leaning helplessly over her desk. Wiping away tears of laughter, she asked, ‘So what happened after the Captain took to the water?’

We were in a small room in her house. I expect it was meant for office work and storing nursing equipment, but it was more like a drapery store. A hand towel fell from a variety of sheets and clothes cramming the surrounding shelves. I picked it up, and trying to find a space to shove it back, said, ‘I learnt two things about the Captain this morning. One, he can easily and quickly get out of a bath and two, a cold one’s a great way to sober him up. Mind you, with all his squeals and protests you’d have thought his wife would have lain low, but she came through to investigate.’ I mimed a pistol to my head. ‘She insisted she fill the bath instead of me doing it and she’d help him get back in. It was completely obvious to her that I wasn’t competent enough.’

I didn’t add that Ginny had also said she was protecting her husband against flighty pieces, a remark which had thoroughly interested the Captain and thoroughly annoyed me.

The remark might still have rankled had Sister Shiach not seemed so pleased. Clapping her hands twice, she said, ‘Well, that’s just fine. And there was me feeling sorry for her! She can get on with helping him. It’ll save me the hassle of visiting. There’s lots more people needing my time than the bloomin’ Saunders-Hewitts. I’ve only really been going there to support her, but it sounds like she’s managing fine, if in her own way.’

‘Well, to tell you the truth,’ I said, ‘I think she quite enjoyed the experience. She must have. She actually threw off her kimono, pulled off her necklaces, shouted, “Look! Charles, I’m casting my pearls before swine,” then she dived in. There was a bit of a splash,’ I reflected. ‘You’re lucky to see me. For a minute I thought I’d be washed away in a tidal wave. Anyway, I got out before I could see any more creative uses of a loofah.’

Chuckling, Sister Shiach opened a green book with a list of names and columns beside them. She took a red pen and put a tick beside the Captain’s name. ‘To show he’s had a visit,’ she explained, then she stroked a line through it. ‘There! I’ll give him a follow-up call, tell him he’s off the books and I’m so pleased he’s able to bathe himself but to keep an eye on his wife when she’s there too. It’d be good for him to take some responsibility for
her
for a change.’

Had Jomo had a watch, he’d have been checking it. As it was, he was studying the door with fixed interest then running to his mistress and pawing at her boots. I wished I had boots like hers. They looked far more useful than my trendy numbers, which leaked and seemed to embrace the cold. My toes were sore when they weren’t itching. Maybe I was getting chilblains. Sensible boots would probably solve the problem. Thinking about the bell-tent lady and how exposed to cold she must be made me feel lucky I’d such a simple solution.

Sister Shiach shrugged into her coat. ‘Okay, Jomo, we’ll go. Come on, troops.’

As I got into her car I said, ‘I didn’t get round to asking you last night, but were the bell-tenters all right?’

She shook her head. ‘Not really. It was so cold I was anxious about them. It was a good thing I took them soup and the mum wasn’t too proud to take it. The stove was going great guns so I thought that as long as they didn’t put their tent on fire they’d survive.’ She wiped the windscreen with the back of her gloved hand and peered up at the sky. ‘Thank God the weather’s better today. Still, I think Mum’s beginning to realise she can’t go it alone. I’m going to have a word with her doctor today. See if we can get her a house. I bet there’ll be one near Bell shortly.’

Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, she continued, ‘From the way she spoke yesterday, her present neighbour’ll soon be wanting a shift. She’s not going to stay at the end of Bell’s tongue for long. What d’you say, Jomo?’ Thoughtfully, she stroked his head.

Jomo stood up to wag his tail, which made Sister Shiach nod her head. ‘Yes, I think so too. And if that house does become available, I’m sure if I asked Bell to help the bell-tenters settle in, she’d do it gladly. She knows what such a lifestyle change that is. Then, the wee one’s much the same age as Shirley – they’d be company for each other and that’d be good for their confidence, especially when they start school. It’s not good for anybody to shut themselves away.’

She started the car then, as if readying for take-off, revved the engine. Above its roar she shouted, ‘The couple we’re going to visit may have different home circumstances from my bell-tenters but they’re not so different when it comes to hiding away.’ She crashed the car into gear, pushing me back in my seat, then continued in a softer voice, ‘Now I know you’re anxious about seeing folk in a health visitor capacity. This visit’ll maybe give you a chance to see that using your common sense can work fine even if you haven’t got a certificate.’ She tapped her head. ‘Using this is the key. Anyway, I’d appreciate your help with the Oggs. For a start, coping with a new face will be good for them, and your friendly one is a bonus.’

I caught my reflection in the driver’s mirror. I looked anxious, probably because the car’s indicator was showing a right, meaning we’d probably be turning left. Keeping her options open and oblivious to the squealing brakes of a car coming behind, Sister Shiach was unperturbed. She maintained a steady course in the middle of the road and continued, ‘Their baby’s three months old now. Lovely wee fellow, if slow.’ She cancelled the right-turn signal, then immediately turned into a street on the left. Her remark was casual. ‘But that’s what you’d expect of a mongol.’

The Oggs had a modern-built, smart-looking bungalow. It had such an immaculately tidy garden that the casual way my driver had parked her car in the driveway made the place look untidy.

‘Somebody’s seen us,’ I said, glimpsing a pale face peeping out from behind a curtain.

It had gone by the time Sister Shiach waved. She said, ‘That’ll be Marion. I’ve told her we’re coming. I’ve asked if her husband could be around too. I’m afraid they’re both struggling to cope with this baby and they’re wondering where they’ve gone wrong.’ She bit her lip. ‘And they won’t want their neighbours seeing us visit. Let’s catch them before they change their minds about letting us in.’

An anxious shadow was cast over Marion’s pretty doll-like face as she opened the door then, glancing around as if to check whether anybody else was around, she ushered us in. ‘Come in, quick, please! It’s such a cold day.’

Sister Shiach dawdled, making a big play of wiping her feet clean. ‘We don’t want to bring dirty feet into the house,’ she explained.

I could understand her reasoning. Waiting in the hallway I saw that all but one of the rooms leading off it had their doors open. Apart from the kitchen, they were carpeted in the same pale blue as where we stood. I presumed that the one with the closed door was the same. It must be murder to keep. I wondered what the Duthie brothers would make of something with a pile so thick they’d trip over it. No wonder Marion looked so anxious.

Rather more worrying, however, was the reason we were here. There didn’t seem to be any sign of the baby. Where could he be?

There was one with a tear running down his cheek, only he was looking out from a Boots picture hanging on a white-painted wall. And from his viewpoint in the hall, there wasn’t much to see, just a walnut sideboard standing on skinny legs.

From a quick glimpse through the open doors I saw only one bedroom. I wondered if it was the Oggs’ and if they ever slept there. Its covers looked fresh out of the packet. The other rooms were as immaculate as a showroom exhibition. Bell’s house with all its chaos felt more alive than this one with its air of vacancy and smell of beeswax.

A man, dwarfing Marion, appeared at her shoulder. They made a handsome couple, she with her fair good looks whilst he was tall and dark. ‘Ah! Sister.’ He glanced towards me, then added, ‘Or should I say, Sist
ers
, eh? Ha ha!’ He rubbed his hands in a jovial fashion but his smile didn’t reach his eyes and I sensed we weren’t welcome.

Sister Shiach wasn’t fazed. ‘I’ve got an extra pair of hands just now so I thought I’d introduce you to Sister Macpherson. She’s a modern miss – believes dads should have a hand in baby care.’

I nodded my head vigorously. ‘It must double the pleasure whilst halving the work.’