Legacy (2 page)

Chapter Two

The arrival of Gabrielle's siblings ushered in a period of austerity. With more and more mouths to feed and backs to clothe, family life settled into a mundane routine. Her mother took up dressmaking to cut down on the clothing bills and baking to maximise the food supplies. Her father worked longer and harder than ever before.

Gabrielle was usually put in charge of the children a task she hated, so much so that when the weather was dry she took the yard brush and brushed the screaming little horrors out to the garden. Life became a case of economising, nothing was ever wasted in their house and everything was shared. Even the meals took on a feeling of routine with each day being assigned a particular dinner. If you were to ask Gabrielle now this very moment, she can still memorise her meal pattern; Monday remains of Sundays roast, Tuesday cabbage and bacon, Wednesday stew and so on until they reached Sunday (not to mention Friday when they enjoyed ‘Fenian Steak'). This pattern continued throughout her years at home as did the most unbearable pattern of all; cleaning.

Every Saturday, Gabrielle was to wake up to not only to her daily dose of thick porridge but the prospect of an entire day of scrubbing, brushing, washing and polishing. In her childhood a clean home was revered and no stone was left unturned. This was a tradition she brought into adulthood and enforced on her own children. I remember Mum used to make us start at the top of the house and work our way down, when this was finished Mum just like her mother before her would check on our work; running her finger along surfaces, lifting our mattresses to check on the bed and opening doors to ensure that even the door seams were gleaming. If we neglected to clean even the tiniest particle we could rest assured Mum's keen eye would find it and as always we would be made to start again. Mum could not tolerate a dirty house, over the years she instilled the conviction that a person could be judged by their home into each of us. I wonder now if this belief was what plunged her into the state of mind that would attempt to destroy her later in life; she judged herself by her own standards.

During Gabrielle's teenage years Saturday night was just another night. While most young people were planning trips to the cinema, walks around town or even a stolen kiss, Saturday night for her meant raw fingers and an aching back. After cleaning all she was capable of doing was crawling into her bed. Her mother had teenage control down to a fine art. Until Gabrielle's late teenage years she didn't have time or the energy to even contemplate a social life.

Little Patch's demise came when she was just 13 years old. Gabrielle was sent to the town's chemist to get baby supplies, when she was faced with her first glimpse of tragedy. Being sent to the chemist was a routine request, one she loved as she benefitted from half an hour's independence and a walk around the town. On this particular day she and Patch set off through the field and over the bridge, they didn't rush their journey instead they meandered at a leisurely pace taking in all the sights and sounds of their home town. They went to the chemist, made their purchases and began to make their journey home.

When they got to the bridge, they picked up their pace; they had already taken more than the half hour she was allowed, if she wasn't home soon her mother would come looking for her. When she got halfway over the bridge, a loud horn startled her and broke the tranquillity that had until then surrounded her. She turned quickly in its direction, seeing a car drive away. What she saw shattered her world; Patch lay in a bloody heap on the other side of the road. She could see that he had lost a lot of blood and remembers dropping the chemist bag, neither looking left nor right as she flew across the road to his side. Her speed made no difference as already her first friend was dead. He was so still and small, his little head crushed on the left side, she knew he would never, could never wake. She petted him and called him over and over until she couldn't see through her tears, but Patch was still. She watched horrified as the blood flowing from his lifeless body slowed and settled into a stagnant puddle around him, soaking into his once gleaming white coat, and drying on his face. That was the first time Gabrielle felt pain and to her it was the worst pain imaginable, she couldn't do a thing. Her insides grew heavy and her heart swelled in pain as she sat beside Patch and watched death take him away from her.

Gabrielle never forgot the death of little Patch for it shook the foundations of her world.

Sudden death would come back to her again one day, this time more shocking than she could ever imagine and once again she would be powerless to stop it. That day in Gabrielle's thirteenth year was one of the saddest days in her childhood but a minuscule taster of what was to come.

Chapter Three

The most dominant element of Gabrielle's early life was the influence of the Catholic Church. Her parents were staunch Catholics and like the rest of the small town spent each Sunday and any day of religious significance ‘kissing the altar' rails. For Gabrielle the unfortunate part of their adherence to the Roman Catholic convictions was that she was made to join them. Every Sunday was Mass day, when the entire family donned their Sunday bests with the rest of the town and walked to Mass, never did they miss a day. No matter how sick anyone was, they were well enough to go to Mass. Gabrielle's compulsory and non-negotiable attendance at Mass felt like a prison sentence especially in her teens. Even if illness had taken her, she firmly believed that she would have been wheeled to Mass on her deathbed rather than be permitted to damage her mortal soul by missing one service. On top of the weekly Mass on Saturdays, they also had confession and during the week they usually had at least one visit from Father Converey.

To have a priest as a regular caller to one's home was a great honour, it was one thing that her parents did not take lightly. When Father Converey called it was like the Great Lord himself had graced them with his presence, the best china came out, the children were dismissed and the conversation became closed and serious. Even if they passed a priest on the street they were made to bless themselves and say “Hello Father” in such a respectful manner that they just stopped short of genuflecting. Nothing was more important to her parents than the church, the priest embodied this great organisation and what he said went. They lived their lives according to Roman Catholic dogma, something Gabrielle took for granted as they recited the nightly rosary and fasted for a saint's day. It was only as she grew older that she decided that such a strong and unquestioned devotion was not for her.

Strabane, which was once home to both Catholics and Protestants gradually became almost entirely Catholic. As news trickled through the grapevine of Protestant families being removed from Catholic towns and Catholic families being removed from Protestant towns, her neighbours began to doubt their safety. Protestant families and neighbours moved out one by one over the years. Their confidence was eroded and worn so thin that they left the town. They moved away and joined larger more Protestant towns and cities across Northern Ireland. By Gabrielle's early teens all that remained in the once mixed town was an increasingly bitter Catholic enclave.

It was during her teenage years that Gabrielle began to question her upbringing, to doubt the preaching's of the church and to formulate her own opinions on Ireland, North and South. She bravely began to question these teachings, to test her mother on her iron resolve that her take on life was correct. She began to assert her independence, to formulate her own viewpoints being careful to ensure that they were on opposing angles to her mother's and more importantly that they shunned the Church.

In her late teens Father Converey spent most of his Mass preaching on the evils of the mini-skirt. In protest to his outburst she proudly flaunted her mini and paraded up and down the street. She ensured that all the neighbours witnessed her modern fashion sense and saw how little regard she had paid to Father Converey. Arriving home that night, Gabrielle was met by the stick and was told to apologise to the Sacred Heart picture that permanently loomed above her mother's chair. She was dispatched to bed without so much as a ‘God Bless'. Rather than be ashamed, on the contrary she stomped to bed; well shuffled as her skirt, all two inches of it did not allow for much movement.

In her room she went straight to her satchel, pulling out pen and paper and composed a letter to the ‘Sunday Independent'. She stated the case for mini's, modernity whilst lambasting the church, its preaching's and it's dinosaur of a Pope. She posted her rant first class the very next morning.

Immediately after posting the letter she regretted it but she doubted her treachery would ever be discovered. A week later she was shocked to find that her rant had been published.

She talks of how it was father Converey who had ‘outed' her, so much for following the Lord's teachings. He called around that evening slamming the letter on the table, then instructed her mother to deal with her daughter and promptly left. Her mother was understandably incandescent with rage, ‘the stick', the Sacred Heart and a few choice obscenities came out that night. For the next few years Gabrielle continued to test her mother with her elaborate antics; the stick would come out often. By way of avoidance she began to spend more and more time with her kindly grandmother, often staying overnight and generally avoiding home and ‘the stick'.

Chapter Four

Gabrielle had always wanted to be a nurse. In the late 1960s, career choices for girls were limited and when faced with the alternatives nursing was definitely the best option. In rural Ireland, the choices for girls consisted of getting married on leaving school and Gabrielle did not relish the idea of becoming a teacher. The remaining options for her and most of her generation was to become a civil servant or a bank clerk neither prospect held much appeal.

Luckily for her a further option glimmered in the distance, to become a nurse. As far as she was concerned there was no choice, the other options were repugnant. She had been an avid follower of Doctor Kildare, read far too many hospital based Mills & Boons and even studied Florence Nightingale for her O-Levels. The culmination of these led her to believe that a more glamorous, worthy career for a young woman just didn't exist. She romantically pictured herself waltzing up and down the wards in a commanding yet feminine uniform, leaning over the bedsides of the infirm and whispering teams of endearment. She would be surrounded by movie star handsome doctors and work all over the world.

She focused on passing her exams and getting all the experience she could in order to gain a much coveted place in the local Derry hospital to begin her training. She spent two years volunteering with the St John's Ambulance and in her spare time read up on biology and anatomy so that by the time she was offered a place on the course she was brimming with confidence. Gabrielle's parents were pleased with her choice, her Fathers chest puffed out with pride at the very thought of his little girl entering into such a noble profession. Her mother who had herself aspired to become a nurse was also overjoyed. Her mother didn't tell her this but Gabrielle had heard her mention it at every available opportunity. Should the conversation be about autumn leaves or the price of butter, her mother somehow managed to manipulate the topic around to her daughter's acceptance into nursing.

To embark on her studies Gabrielle required what seemed like an impossible amount of supplies, the hospital had sent a long and expensive list. She would need everything from thick nursing textbooks, standard nursing shoes, a nursing coat, and even a fob watch. It was with great reluctance that Gabrielle presented this list to her parents she knew they could not afford even one of these items, yet alone the entire list.

On seeing their stunned faces as they read the list she was besieged with guilt. Rather than ask her struggling parents to pay for such a quantity of items she decided to be a martyr and tell them that nursing wasn't for her. She stoically told them about an office job she had seen advertised in Derry and how much it appealed to her. She laughs as she remembers conjuring up as much excitement as she could as she talked about learning to type and take important phone calls.

Only a few days later her mother was to ask her to go material shopping with her as she was making up some dresses for her little sisters and needed to choose an attractive yet hardwearing fabric. Gabrielle was still inwardly glum at having given up on her dream but she re-pasted her happy face on and agreed to accompany her. First they went to the material shop, where her mother selected the various materials and bits and bobs that she would require. Followed by a trip to the general store, when her mother surprised her and instead of walking their usual route to the food supplier, they went upstairs and in the direction of the shoe department. Her mother made small talk with the shopkeeper and then asked a question that took her breath away.

“Do you stock any suitable nurses' shoes?”

Gabrielle was speechless and looked at her mother wide eyed, where she quite casually replied,

“Well you're going to need them.”

Gabrielle had never been as grateful to her parents as she was that summer when they somehow managed to buy all of her supplies. She will never forget their generosity.

She remembers being so overwhelmed that she had to blink back the tears as her mother patted her shoulder and said “make us proud”. She doesn't know where her parents obtained the money from as it was never mentioned. All she knew was that by some miracle come September, she was fully kitted out and ready to embark on her training.

Gabrielle would go on to suffer three years of gruelling nursing training a time of laughs, horror, fun and tears. To a country girl the hospital was huge, an endless maze of corridors swamped with doctors, nurses and patients. She describes hospital life as a world within a world, an insular bustling environment that she yearned to be a part of. Yet one obstacle stood between Gabrielle and her full immersion into that world; three years of rigorous training.

The figurehead of that obstacle was the Matron who oversaw all the trainee nurses. Nothing got past her. She inspired terror in them all Gabrielle portrays her as an unkind, strict and demanding woman who ensured all of the trainees were put through their paces, constantly testing them and pushing them to their limits and beyond. Matron was to make each of them start at the bottom scrubbing floors and lockers with pungent disinfectant, serving food to patients and getting used to the reality of life on the wards. She loved to allocate them to ‘slush room days' and reinforce to them every day that they were the lowest of the low. This was aided by the qualified nurses who delighted in barking as many orders at them as Matron.

Gabrielle's time was split between equally between the ward and the classroom. She dreamt of the serenity of the classroom and of being away from the constant wailing of “nurse, nurse” and Matrons perverse commands.