Legacy (3 page)

Chapter Five

The training was rigorous and at times Gabrielle felt that it was insurmountable but the good times outweighed the bad. During her training she lived in the nurse's home where life was more bearable. She enjoyed the camaraderie with the girls and despite the strict curfew of 10 pm they had fun. Twice a week, when Matron's watchful eyes finally closed and the lights went out, the girls would creep out of the nurse's home and escape into Derry city.

They would tiptoe downstairs and climb out the kitchen window always ensuring that it was pulled down just enough so it appeared closed. If anyone was caught going in or out after this time they would be suspended or worse. The young nurses who had gone before them had kindly tipped the girls off about the kitchen window; so far everyone had managed to escape. The Matron did a final check of the corridors of the home around 10.30 pm locking all doors and windows and switching off the lights. The kitchen window with its loose handle was the exception to her search, in Gabrielle's three years in the nurses home the Matron never once checked beyond the kitchen door and of course the fridge lock.

The Matron's unusual lapse was to the girls gain; they were free to enjoy themselves dancing, drinking and following the infamous show bands until the small hours, often reporting to the wards having had no sleep at all.

There comes a time when all girls grow up, even country girls and it was during these wild days that Gabrielle proudly admitted to discovering cigarettes, booze and men. She sampled all three. Gabrielle smoked 20 a day, drank and dated as often as she could. She was determined to enjoy her youth and freedom. The girls suspected that Matron, a small joyless woman had an inkling that the girls were going out after curfew yet she simply lacked the proof. Despite her vigilance and almost daily security checks she never discovered their exit route. Without proof there was little she could do with regards to her suspicions.

Hospital life meant that Gabrielle met people from all around the world, especially men. Many young doctors came to work and study at the hospital and by the time she was 20 years of age, she had dated Protestants, Spaniards, Italians and young men from as far afield as Egypt and India. She could even boast of having dated an officer from the British Army and a policeman. Life in Derry immersed her into a world that was a million miles away from her strict upbringing; a world that would never have been possible had she stayed in her insular home town. She was never silly enough to mention her antics at home. Even then she was savvy enough to know that tolerance of anything other than a Catholic, a good Irish Catholic at that, would never be granted.

Gabrielle's training involved a rotation where she worked in various different areas of the hospital from theatre, to Accident and Emergency, and paediatrics until she was competent in them all. Everything seemed to be going reasonably well until Gabrielle was faced with the challenge of the labour ward. She had an idea that she wouldn't enjoy this particular rotation, but knew that in order to pass she would have to endure it.

Gabrielle went with a hopeful and cautiously optimistic mind to begin her first day on the labour ward, where she was met with a woman who was in the final stages of labour. The woman's hair was wet with sweat and glued to her red and purple face. She appeared utterly inhuman as she frantically pushed the child out, puffing and panting, her legs akimbo with untold fluids dripping out of what seemed like every private orifice. The image disgusted Gabrielle, so much so that something strange happened, her stomach heaved and she threw up. If this was the miracle of life, then life didn't offer much. She had seen so much during her training, people's inners, vomit, burns, diarrhoea, pus and countless other horrors. Yet none had the same effect on her as watching that woman give birth.

After being sick she took to her two size fives and ran, she never wanted to see such a display again. She was well and truly traumatised.

When she had gained a good distance from the hospital, she stopped running, smoked three cigarettes in a row and waited until the shaking subsided. Unsure of what to do she recalls racking her brain for a plan because she knew she would never darken the doors of that foul cesspit again. What seemed like eons passed until she decided that there was only one thing to do; go back to her old rotation on the recovery ward and act like nothing had happened. If she kept her head down and went on with her usual work, she naively believed that no one would question her presence.

How wrong she was.

Within an hour of escape from the labour ward she sensed that she was being watched. She quickly clambered behind a locker and ducked her head down. It was too late. Gabrielle was caught. A voice that sent shivers down her spine boomed down the corridor,

“Nurse Caulfield!”

With those words her stomach lurched.

“Oh God”, she was in a living hell. She unfolded herself from her hiding place and forced an answer.

“Yes, Matron,” she whimpered.

“My office please,” Matrons clipped tones replied.

Gabrielle was now sweating as profusely as the woman on the labour ward. Her legs felt like jelly as she manoeuvred them in the direction of Matron's office. She could barely tap the door her hands were shaking so much,

“Come in,” barked Matron.

Gabrielle stepped in to the stuffy smoke filled office and approached the desk. Matron didn't even look up from her writing, her chubby fingers gripping the pen to the point of strangulation, the only indication that she was aware of Gabrielle's presence.

“Nurse Caulfield, why are you not on the maternity ward? Why am I faced with you this morning?” she demanded.

This was it after two years of hard slog it was over, the cretin would expel her. Gabrielle answered with the only excuse she had,

“Matron I didn't like it,” she faltered, already aware of how feeble her words would sound.

“
You
didn't like it?”

Gabrielle nodded unable to meet her steely eyes.

“
YOU
didn't like it,” she roared, in a mixture of bemusement and disgust.

“How dare you! How dare you! Since when can a nurse pick and choose her duties, this is not a holiday camp.”

“That ward is a vital part of your training, it is not about like,” Matron sneered.

Gabrielle, who always had an answer regardless of the situation, was for once gobsmacked. She was so caught up in her own world that she could barely listen to the Matron's rant. She could see Matron's brow furrowed and could hear key words, disappointment, disgrace, and specimen; she could see Matron's spittle but was too concerned with the ramifications of her actions. It was at the moment when Matron scraped her chair back and stood in front of her, her rotund body rigid with outrage as she muttered the word ‘suspended' that Gabrielle woke up.

Gabrielle felt her blood run cold; the room began to spin.

“Collect your belongings and leave, I will be in touch when I have made my decision.”

Still gobsmacked words still eluded her she simply turned and left the office. She was in trouble. She was suspended until further notice until Matron decided on what further course of action she would take.

This time it took four cigarettes to compose herself, there was nothing she could do now. She would either be allowed to finish her training or not. The only positive that came from that day's development was the fact that she would never have to set foot in the labour ward again. Or so she thought; as fate would have it she would have to endure the labour ward not as a nurse but as a patient three more times in all.

She called her father and told him she was given a week's leave; her hours were on a rota basis so he wasn't surprised at her having given no warning regarding her days off. It was a risky step for Gabrielle to take, as there would be no way of knowing if a week was long enough because Matron had given her no indication of how long the suspension would last. One thing she was sure of was that Matron would let her stew; she would not rush to put her out of her misery. She craftily omitted to mention to her father that she might never need returned back to the nurse's home. She would impart that information when she had heard definite confirmation, but for now she was going to try and enjoy her unexpected unearned break.

It was to be exactly a week to the day that she returned home when an ominous looking letter arrived. It was etched with the hospitals official stamp instantly Gabrielle knew its contents revealed her future. Of course in her home there was never any privacy, she grew up surrounded by an endless stream of visitors and family. This is a sharp contrast to my childhood where very few, if any, got past our door.

Aware of being watched by a full house Gabrielle managed to keep herself composed and casually tore the thick envelope open. She was aware of her mother watching her from the side of her eye; she had never had a letter from the hospital in her two years of training. So she knew that her spectator was wondering what she had done now. Well she wasn't going to enlighten her.

“What are you all gawping at,” she raged.

She knew her mother would call her up on this rudeness later, but right now she didn't care. For now her outburst ensured everyone in the room had averted their eyes and went on with their tedious conversation.

Gabrielle scanned the contents of the letter quickly being careful not to attract any attention to herself. It seemed that she had had a reprieve and was due back on the ward the following Monday. Better still she was due at Accident and Emergency and the labour ward was not mentioned.

She was triumphant as her little protest had been successful.

The suspension had been the longest time Gabrielle had been separated from her work and it forced her to admit that she actually missed it. She would return to Derry and work harder than ever and she would be diligent, obedient and dedicated. She would prove to Matron that she was a worthy contender to her now ardently craved title of ‘nurse'.

The journey back to the hospital would have followed the river Foyle it was a journey I was to take several times in my childhood. I'm sure her view was much the same as mine on approaching the city. She would have passed the Waterside's now familiar railway station, its row upon row of terraces, children playing out, neighbours on doorways gossiping and of course the steaming windows of the many pubs.

Back then, Derry was an industrial, hardworking city but overall a happy one. A real sense of community prevailed. Looking over her shoulder she would have seen the river Foyle's waters parting the city in two, with the hills of Donegal looming in the background creating a picturesque scene. Unlike me, Gabrielle was glad to be there; she fitted in.

When the old gasworks wall would have scaled her vision she would have known that in less than a mile she would be back at the nurse's home. Now Gabrielle could get back to work and normality. The suspension only made her see what she had almost lost.

Chapter Six

Gabrielle arrived early because she remembers whiling the day away in the communal room. Although it was 1970, TV was still a real treat and the fact that the nurse's home had one was an attraction for all the girls. She greeted the few girls who were in the room with a nod and turned her attention to the TV.

Something about what was on attracted Gabrielle and meant that it wasn't long until she was completely engrossed. The English journalist was reporting all the way from America and was covering the plight of the African Americans. Equal rights had been granted in many states but prejudices were still commonplace. The TV switched to show a picture of the late Dr. Martin Luther King, and she listened intently to what he was saying. From Gabrielle's stance the Americans struggle seemed implausible, yet civil rights and the injustices faced by these people were never far from the news. She just couldn't comprehend why anyone would make such a distinction between people of different colour, why one race felt they had the right to demean another. She listened actively to see if any explanation was proffered, unsurprisingly there was none. There never would be.

When Gabrielle was growing up she remembers seeing a person of colour in Strabane; she can't recall much about them except for the fact that they were so attractive. She pleaded with her family in the months leading up to her fifth Christmas for a black baby doll. When that Christmas came, no black baby doll arrived. She was so disappointed that none of her other presents held any appeal. Santa was a bad man he had let her down and ruined her Christmas. However, one kindly aunt's efforts were to prove successful in pacifying her. Her aunt promised her that someday she would have a real black baby. It was as if her aunt had a crystal ball.

Gabrielle's work meant encountering people from all over the world; she couldn't imagine creating a distinction between people. She could never be an American. Her dislike for Americans and their hatred was the only real political conviction of her youth.

That day she discreetly studied one of her fellow students from the corner of her eye.
Modupe
was a pretty girl, stalwartly studious and excruciatingly quiet. The result was that Gabrielle didn't know her very well. She knew that
Modupe
was from Africa, and her parents had sent her here to complete her nursing training. She surveyed her for a while trying to ascertain these differences that the Americans claimed to see. Yet everything about her was exactly the same as her white counterparts. The only difference she could see was that her skin colour was darker. She marvelled at how so many people believed that having darker skin somehow made a person inferior and would have continued to do so had
Modupe
not noticed her appraisal and stared openly back.

Embarrassed she flushed, looked away and gave up on her train of thought. It wouldn't be long until such thoughts would keep her awake at night.