Queenie (12 page)

‘What’s that?’ I said.

‘It’s your nightie!’

‘No, no, I’ve got my own pyjamas. They’ve got cats on them,’ I said, running over to my suitcase to show her.

‘Oh yes, very saucy – but you can’t wear them just yet.’

‘But my mum bought them specially!’ I wailed.

‘I dare say – but they have to be fumigated first. You’ll get them back in a few days.’

‘But I want to wear them now!’ I said, opening up my suitcase and clutching my cat pyjamas. Then I saw Albert Trunk wearing his sock, and a terrible fear overcame me. ‘I can have my elephant, can’t I?’ I said.

‘Yes, dear, when he’s come back from being fumigated,’ the nurse told me.

‘But I can’t sleep without him. My nan gave him to me when I was a baby and I have to have him tucked up with me, else I can’t settle.’

‘I’ll see if I can find a nice teddy from our toy box for you to cuddle,’ said the nurse. ‘Now stop getting yourself so worked up, it’s not good for you.’ She towelled my hair, pummelling my head, until it was almost dry, and then she gave me a parting on the wrong side, digging in hard with the end of the comb.

‘I don’t have a parting there,’ I said.

‘Stop it now. You’re just being difficult on purpose,’ she said. ‘Look, we’ll put a couple of Kirby grips in to keep the hair out of your eyes – you’ll like that, won’t you?’

‘I don’t like it one bit,’ I muttered, but under my breath. I looked desperately at my suitcase, but she shut it up and labelled it. Albert Trunk bellowed
miserably
from the dark depths. All the cats swarmed off my pyjamas and ran round and round, terrified. Snow White and Sooty and Marmalade mewed piteously, scrabbling at the cardboard lid. All my friends in the
Girl
clamoured to get out too. Belle kept leaping up in frantic pirouettes, banging her head each time. They all called out desperately for me to rescue them, but I was helpless. Nurse Sticking-out Ears made me abandon them all.

She led me back into Blyton Ward with all the trussed-up children. They mostly couldn’t sit up, but they craned their necks to stare at me. I was horribly embarrassed by my stupid hospital gown. I reached round and clutched it together at the back so they wouldn’t see my bottom. There was only one empty bed – the one next to the boy who had stuck his tongue out at me.

The nurse pulled me towards it.

‘Can’t I sleep somewhere else?’ I looked around wildly. ‘Next to one of the girls?’

‘I’m not trundling beds around at this time. You can go next to Martin. You’d like a bit of company, wouldn’t you, dear?’ she said cheerily to the rude boy.

‘I want Robert back,’ he mumbled.

‘Oh dear,’ said the nurse.

‘Who’s Robert?’ I asked.

‘Never you mind,’ she said. ‘Now then, Martin,
this
is Elsie. Say hello nicely to her, everyone.’

‘Hel-lo, El-sie,’ they chorused slowly, the way you say good morning to your teacher at school.

‘Say hello back, Elsie!’ said the nurse.

I was busy staring around open-mouthed, peering at the various ways in which most of the children were imprisoned in their beds. The rude boy’s contraption was particularly fearful – and I was very frightened by the poor little mummy boy encased in plaster. I backed away from the nurse.

‘Elsie?’

‘I don’t want you to strap me up in those things!’ I said. ‘I especially don’t want the plaster stuff.’

‘Don’t be silly, dear. These are all devices to keep you nice and still so that all your poorly parts can get better.’

‘Robert didn’t get better,’ said rude Martin.

‘Ssh now, Martin. Elsie! Hop into bed,’ the nurse said, turning down the sheets.

‘You promise you won’t tie me up?’

‘It’s nothing to be afraid of. It doesn’t
hurt
,’ she said.

‘Yes it does,’ said Martin.

‘It hurts ever so – I’m all sore,’ said the big girl across from Martin.

‘And it
itches
,’ added another girl.

‘Now now – don’t all start! You’ve got to be good,
remember
, or you won’t get a story after supper.’

‘Don’t want a stupid story – not about daft
pixies
,’ said Martin in disgust.

‘You’re not the only one here, Mr Grumpy. All the others
love
the story, don’t you, children?’ said the nurse. She smiled at me. ‘
You
’
d
like to hear a story, wouldn’t you, Elsie?’

I considered. ‘Do you know any stories about cats?’ I asked.

‘I think there’s a lovely big book about a marmalade cat called Orlando in the library. If you’re a really good girl while you’re having your treatment, I’ll read it to you,’ she said. ‘Don’t look so worried. We’re not doing anything to you just yet – you’re under observation.’

I wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Were they watching me? If I was really bad, would they tie me up and smother me in plaster? I jumped into bed quickly. It was so tightly made I had to fight my way into the cold sheets and my feet had to lie sideways.

‘That’s a good girl,’ said the nurse. ‘Now, I’ll go and see about supper.’

The moment she was out of the room there was a clamour.

‘What’s your proper name – Elsie what?’

‘How old are you?’

‘What’s wrong with you?’

‘Where do you go to school?’

‘Why didn’t you come earlier?’

‘Where’s your mum?’

I blinked, not sure what to say first. ‘I’m Elsie Kettle,’ I said.

‘Elsie
Kettle
!’ said Martin, hooting with scornful laughter. ‘What sort of name is
that
?’

I decided not to answer any more questions. I struggled further down into the bed and shut my eyes, pretending to go instantly to sleep.

‘Hey, you, Elsie Kettle, we’re talking to you,’ said Martin. ‘That’s not really your bed, you know. It’s my friend Robert’s – only he
died
.’

I froze. ‘No he didn’t, you’re just fibbing,’ I said.

‘He did die, last week, didn’t he?’ Martin said to the room, and there were murmurs backing him up. ‘That’s the Bed of
Doom
.’

‘No it’s not,’ I said weakly. My skin started crawling. Did a boy really die in this very bed? ‘What did he die
of
?’ I squeaked.

‘He had an infection and it went all up his leg and it went black and they were going to cut it off but he died before they could do it,’ said Martin. ‘I dare say
you’ll
get an infection too, Elsie Kettle.’

‘No I won’t,’ I said – but I imagined poor Robert’s germs slithering towards me from all four corners of the bed. My toes were cold and crampy. Maybe they’d
been
attacked already? I struggled to peer down under the covers to make sure my feet were still pink.

‘What’s the matter with you anyway?’ said Martin irritably. ‘You look all right to me.’

I hesitated. Mum had drummed it into me that I mustn’t tell anyone I had TB – but this was a hospital, after all.

‘I’ve got something wrong with my knee. Well, they think I have,’ I said. ‘It’s – it’s very serious.’

‘That’s not serious! I’ve got tuberculosis of the hip, which is much worse –
and
I’ve got abscesses,’ said Martin proudly.

I didn’t have a clue what that meant, but it did sound awful, I had to admit. I looked around at the other children, especially the poor boy in plaster.

‘Does it hurt being stuck in plaster like that?’ I asked timidly.

‘That’s Angus. He’s Scottish, but he doesn’t speak,’ said Martin. ‘He’s got TB of the spine. Maureen’s got plaster too, but not all over.’

‘It itches,’ said little Maureen.

‘She’s Maureen. She’s a sap –
all
the girls are,’ said Martin.

‘You shut up, Farty Marty,’ shouted the big girl.

I sniggered, and some of the children laughed out loud. The big girl had blonde hair in a ponytail and she looked very pretty, even though she was scowling.
She
seemed to be lying in a peculiar way, flat on her back, though she didn’t seem to be trapped in anything like Martin and some of the others.

I sat up and looked at her properly – and then recoiled. She was stuck in some kind of steel frame that held her horribly rigid. She saw me staring, and she didn’t like it.

‘What are you looking at, Gobface?’ she said.

‘I’m – I’m just looking around,’ I mumbled.

I was startled by these rude, scary children in their torture beds. I thought children ill enough to stay in hospital would be quiet and subdued, but Martin and Ponytail were far worse than Marilyn and Susan.

‘Gobface!’ they all spluttered.

I knew this would be my new nickname here. It was as bad as Frilly Bum. I’d always hated the word
gob
. I couldn’t say it out loud when I chose a penny gobstopper in a sweetshop, I just had to point.

‘Don’t you dare call me names, you lot,’ I said to the room at large. ‘You’re just a whole lot of
prisoners
!’

THERE WAS A
little stunned silence. I was astonished myself. Then the nurse with the sticking-out ears came bustling back in with a food trolley. She had another nurse with her, a little one, with mad curly hair like Shirley Temple.

They had to lend a helping hand to each child. Nurse Sticking-out Ears had to sit beside Angus in his plaster and feed him carefully, spoonful by spoonful, because he couldn’t move. I sat up in bed and nibbled my cheese on toast and ginger
sponge
and drank my cup of milk self-consciously.

When the nurses were up at the other end of the room, Martin whispered, ‘Scoff away while you can, Gobface. Just you wait! You’ll see what it’s like.’

I was so frightened, the milk in my mouth curdled and I was suddenly sick all down my hospital gown.

‘Really, Elsie!’ said Nurse Sticking-out Ears. ‘As if we haven’t got enough to do! You must learn not to bolt your food.’

She mopped me up impatiently, and then fetched me another ugly immodest gown.

‘It’s not fair –
he’s
got proper pyjamas,’ I said, nodding at Martin.

He only wore them on his top. He had to make do with strange underpants on his bottom half because he was strapped up so thoroughly, but they were real pyjamas all the same. They weren’t boring stripes either, they were navy, with little Dan Dares and green Mekons patterned all over, battling up and down his arms and across his chest.

‘You’ll get yours back when they’ve been through fumigation – I
told
you, Elsie. You’re going to have to learn to
listen
while you’re in here, so you can cooperate properly,’ said the nurse, tying my new nightgown so tightly she practically strangled me.

As soon as they had trundled away the food trolley, the two nurses brought in a kind of walking
washstand
, with basins and jugs and strange sinister receptacles like large test tubes. Every child had to wash their face and hands and brush their teeth. That seemed a perfectly routine procedure, but then – oh
then
the nurses started toileting the children in full view of each other!

The boys were luckier because the test tubes fitted neatly over their willies. The girls had complicated bowls that slid under their hips. My heart started thudding. I had always been very shy and squeamish. I often waited all day long at school, my bladder bursting, because I hated making a trip to those smelly toilets where girls could jump up and see you over the top of the low door, or crawl on their knees and peer up at you from below.

I couldn’t even go to the toilet in front of Nan when I was safe at home. If I had my way, I liked to banish her to the opposite end of the flat just in case she might be listening.

The sticking-out-ears nurse handed me a chamber pot. ‘Here you are, Elsie. Nip out of bed and do a tinkle, dear,’ she said cheerily.

I slid very slowly out of bed and stood beside it. Rude Martin was staring straight at me, grinning.

‘I can’t go in that, miss,’ I said hoarsely.

‘I’m
Nurse
, dear – Nurse Patterson. Of course you can go in the potty. You’re not on total bed rest yet.’

‘I’ll go in that washroom place where you bathed me,’ I said, starting to run up the ward in my bare feet.

‘Hey, hey, slow down! You’re not allowed to run!’ she said, catching me. ‘Goodness gracious, the doctors will have my guts for garters! And you’re not allowed in the bathroom by yourself either. Now stop being a silly girl and use your potty.’

‘But he’s
watching
me, miss – Nurse,’ I said in agony.

‘Don’t be so foolish, dear. There’s no place for any little Miss Modestys on an orthopaedic ward. Don’t worry, you’ll soon get used to it.’ And she pushed me hard down onto the pot with her big strong arms – so I was facing Martin. He was grinning right across his face now.

I spread the skirts of my horrid nightgown around me and shut my eyes tight. I couldn’t go, not even a tiny dribble.

‘Let’s see now,’ said nasty Nurse Patterson, hauling me up again and peering. ‘Well, now you’re being naughty and uncooperative.’ She stuck me down again. ‘Come along, Elsie, I’m waiting.’

‘I can’t go! I went before, you
saw
me. I can’t go just like that! I’m not a tap you can turn on and off!’