Queenie (16 page)

‘Wow, that’s really
filthy
, Gobface,’ Martin spluttered. ‘Teach it to me, go on!’

I wasn’t sure of Martin’s status now – whether he was still a deadly enemy or almost a friend. Gillian was also flatteringly impressed. I shyly said I liked her hairstyle, and she reached up and showed me how she fixed it, tying up the long strands and then wetting the straggly bits in front with spit so they
went
into kiss curls. I unplaited my hair and tried hard to copy her, though it was difficult without a mirror.

I was sure I wasn’t sleepy, and I didn’t want to lie back properly on my pillow because it would spoil my new hairstyle – but I think I nodded off in mid-sentence, because I suddenly opened my eyes, and there were Nurse Patterson and Nurse Curtis clanking round each bed, doling out bedpans. I didn’t know what I was going to do now, so close to Martin. I felt myself going bright red with the horror of it, but to my enormous relief Nurse Patterson seized hold of my bed rails and trundled me along the veranda, back inside the hospital. She let me jump out in the bathroom and go to the toilet privately. I was so grateful I decided I might like her a little bit after all – not quite as much as Nurse Curtis, and certainly not like lovely Nurse Gabriel.

She didn’t take me back onto the veranda. She pushed me down endless new corridors, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking horribly on the polished floor.

‘Where are we going, Nurse Patterson?’ I asked, sitting up.

‘No, lie down, Elsie.’

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Assessment,’ she said, shortly and mysteriously, her teeth hissing on the four ‘s’s like a snake.

‘What’s that?’

‘You’ll soon find out,’ she said.

She took me to a waiting room, leaving my bed in front of a door that said
SIR DAVID ROYALE
. It sounded such a grand name that I stopped asking questions and hunched up small under the bedclothes. Even Nurse Patterson seemed nervous, biting her fingernails. I thought Sir David would be very big and imposing, with a shouty voice, but when he opened his door he was surprisingly small and thin.

‘Come along in.’ He flapped his hand in a welcoming gesture, as if he had invited us for tea. ‘So you’re Elsie. How do you do, my dear,’ he said, shaking my hand. ‘Hello, Nurse Patterson.’

She bobbed her head at him, blushing because he knew her name. Her sticking-out ears went painfully red.

He pulled my covers back and examined me carefully, his hands firm but gentle as he felt my hips and knees and calves. ‘Up you hop, Elsie. Have a little march around my room,’ he said.

I wriggled out of bed and pattered around, feeling very awkward in the silly hospital gown that showed my bottom. ‘Please can I have my own pyjamas back soon?’ I mumbled.

‘Certainly, dear,’ he said, peering at me and making notes.

‘They’ve got cats on,’ I said.

‘Do you like cats then?’ asked Sir David.

‘I love them, especially Queenie,’ I said.

‘Ah, we all love Queenie. We’ll put a little shrimp paste on your toes tomorrow, and then she’ll come and give you little loving nibbles.’

I wasn’t sure if this was a joke or not. He was staring at big shadowy pictures like photo negatives.

‘What are those pictures?’ I asked.

‘They’re pictures of you, Elsie – your poorly knee,’ he said.

‘Don’t keep asking Sir David questions, Elsie,’ said Nurse Patterson, giving me a little shake.

‘No, no, I like the children to take an intelligent interest.’ Sir David slid the pictures back in their big paper envelopes and beckoned to me. ‘Come here, dear. I need to measure you.’

He very carefully measured round each of my thighs. I thought he must be making a mistake.

‘It’s my
knee
that’s bad, Doctor,’ I said, trying to be helpful.

‘Sir David’s not a
doctor
, he’s a consultant,’ Nurse Patterson hissed. ‘And believe you me, he knows what he’s doing.’

Sir David smiled. ‘I’m glad you have such faith in me, Nurse, but certainly in this case I
do
know. I’m measuring your thighs, Elsie, because the muscles
have
wasted a little on your affected leg. And see here . . .’ He touched my knee gently. ‘See how it’s swollen? But we’ve caught you early. Lots of rest and plenty of fresh air and you’ll be a new young woman.’ He pulled my ponytail. ‘Pop back into bed, then you can wheel her away, Nurse.’

‘So, will I get better?’ I asked.

‘Yes, you will, so long as you do as you’re told,’ Sir David said solemnly.

I whisked back under the covers. ‘Does everyone get better if they rest in hospital?’ I asked.

‘That’s what we hope.’

‘Even old people with TB in their lungs?’

‘Elsie!’ said Nurse Patterson.

‘Ah. That depends on the severity of the disease,’ said Sir David.

I drooped. Nan was coughing up blood, and I knew that was severe. I felt my own throat grow tight and my eyes prickled. I managed to hold it in until I was back on the veranda, but then I couldn’t stop the tears dribbling down my face.

‘What’s up?’ said Martin. ‘Have you been to see Sir David?’

I nodded, knuckling my eyes.

‘Is he going to put you in a spinal frame like mine?’

‘No, I’m not being put in any frame,’ I said, sniffing.

‘Yes you are, you poor sap. You’ve got TB, haven’t you?’

‘I haven’t got
bad
TB. He said I’m going to get better,’ I said.

‘He says that to everyone, Gobface. He said it to my friend Robert, and look what happened to him,’ said Martin.

‘You shut up,’ I said, and turned on my stomach to cry properly.

‘Cry-baby! Well, make the most of it. You won’t be able to wriggle about like that tomorrow,’ said Martin. ‘You’ll be a prisoner too.’

‘No I won’t,’ I said, and I buried my head in the pillow. I shut my eyes tight and tried to will myself far away, to be with Nan in her sanatorium. I rubbed her chest with magic ointment and spooned special medicine down her throat, and there she was, my nan, her old self again, so we could scurry back to our flat and get our old lives back.

I cried and cried because I knew this wasn’t possible, no matter how hard I pretended. And then I cried some more, because I didn’t know what else to do. Martin and Gillian and all the others were still there, and sooner or later I’d have to poke my head up and see them laughing at me and pointing and calling me a cry-baby.

At last I
had
to heave myself up to find a
hankie
, because my nose was running so badly.

‘Have you finished now?’ said Martin matter-of-factly – and when my search for a hankie proved hopeless, Gillian told me to lean right over Martin and she’d lend me hers. I couldn’t believe they were letting me off so lightly. At school, crying was the worst thing in the world – something you never ever did if you could help it because you’d get teased so badly.

‘I wasn’t crying just because of the TB,’ I said, snuffling into Gillian’s hankie. ‘I was crying because of my nan.’

‘Everyone cries sometimes,’ she said.

‘I cry lots and lots and lots,’ said little Michael.

‘I don’t ever cry,’ said Martin.

‘You’re a liar, Farty Marty,’ said Gillian. I was sitting up so she raised her eyebrows at me. ‘Boys!’ she added witheringly.

‘Yes,
boys!
’ I replied, delighted.

I saw Queenie in the distance, trotting purposefully over the lawn towards a foolish little group of sparrows pecking for food. I imagined her tossing her head too and mewing, ‘Boys!’

‘Here, Queenie! Come here, Queenie girl,’ I called, making little tutting noises with my tongue.

‘She’s not a
dog
, silly,’ said Martin, straining up onto his elbows. ‘She won’t come to you – especially as
she’s
about to have a massive helping of sparrow pie.’

‘She doesn’t eat
birds
,’ I said uncertainly.

I couldn’t imagine anyone as regal and white and fluffy munching on beaks and claws. Queenie surely dined on saucers of cream and lightly cooked fillet of sole. But then she made a sudden dash and pounced, though luckily the birds flew away before she could catch them. She tossed her head and pawed at the grass, tail in the air, pretending she couldn’t care less.

‘Come here, Queenie! Come on!’ I called.

‘You’d better start cheeping and flapping your arms – then she’ll get interested,’ said Martin. He started sliding back down, and then gave a little yelp. ‘Hey, look.
Look!
’

‘What?’ said Gillian.

‘Nurse Curtis has left the sweetie box on the steps at the back of the veranda!’ Martin gasped.

‘So?’ said Gillian. ‘Are you planning to hop out of bed and run and help yourself?’

‘Oh, ha ha. We can’t – but
she
can!’ said Martin, nodding at me.

Gillian peered over at the distant sweetie box, then at me. She looked at the Timex watch on her wrist. ‘Go on, then – but you’ll have to be quick!’

They were all looking at me, the little ones giggling fearfully. My heart started thudding.

‘But I’m not allowed!’ I said pathetically.

‘
I’d
go, if I wasn’t strung up here,’ said Martin. ‘Go
on
, Gobface.’

I thought of Nurse Patterson. She’d be so cross if she discovered me out of bed. It wouldn’t be a matter of jumping out and dashing back. The sweetie box was so far away I had to blink hard to keep it in focus. It would take a minute or more to get all the way to the steps, then another minute back. It was too risky. Nurse Patterson and Nurse Curtis had been gone a while. They might come back any minute –
this
minute.

‘I don’t want to,’ I said.

‘You little cowardy custard,’ said Martin in disgust.

‘You can call me any stupid names you want. I don’t care,’ I said.

Why should I take such a risk for Martin? He was my enemy. He’d done nothing but torment me since I got here.

But then Gillian started chanting ‘Cowardy custard!’ too, then Rita, then the little ones—

‘Oh, shut
up
. I’m
not
a coward. OK,
watch!
’

I sat up and swung my legs out of bed. I stood up gingerly. My head felt a bit swimmy and my whole leg ached after Sir David’s manipulations. I clenched my fists and ran, even so, while they all gave a little whoop as they watched me.

I staggered down the length of the veranda, the
stone
floor cold and hard under my bare feet. I got to the end of the beds, ran on and on, reached the steps at last, gasping for breath, and crouched down by the sweetie box.

‘Bring it back
here
!’ Martin called. ‘Give us each a sweetie!’

I knew that was far too risky. It would take for ever, and then I’d have to take the box all the way back. I’d almost certainly be caught. I whipped the lid off the box, grabbed two great handfuls of sweets, pushed the lid back in place with my knuckles, and then ran for it. I got back to my bed and jumped in – just as Nurse Patterson and Nurse Curtis came marching back.

I quickly put my hands under the covers and lay back, my feet stinging.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Nurse Patterson, looking at our flushed faces. ‘Come on, why do you all look so furtive?’

Babette and Maureen giggled nervously. The others stayed silent, but they couldn’t help glancing at me.

Nurse Patterson narrowed her eyes. ‘What have you been up to, Elsie Kettle?’

‘She hasn’t been up to anything, Nurse Patterson. She’s – she’s just been singing to us, because we’re so bored,’ said Martin.

‘Well, you can stop that at once, Elsie,’ Nurse Patterson snapped. ‘This is a hospital ward, not a music hall. You’re supposed to lie back in your bed and
rest
. That’s the only cure for your condition – enforced, uninterrupted and prolonged
rest
.’

‘Still, it must be boring for the poor kiddies,’ said Nurse Curtis. ‘So you sing, do you, Elsie? Perhaps you can give us one little verse? No more – Nurse Patterson’s quite right – but it would be a treat to hear you just for two minutes.’

Nurse Patterson sighed irritably but planted herself at the foot of my bed, arms folded. ‘Go on then,’ she said.

I was stuck. I could only think of the uncle’s very rude song, and I wasn’t stupid enough to sing that.

They were all looking at me expectantly. I thought of all the songs I’d heard on the wireless but couldn’t remember more than the first lines of any of them. Then I had a sudden painfully sweet memory of Nan singing hymns as she swept the carpet and dusted all her china lady ornaments, gesturing in both corners with her duster as she got to the end of the verse.

‘Jesus bids us shine
,

With a pure, clear light
,

Like a little candle
,

Burning in the night
.

In this world is darkness
,

So let us shine –

You in your small corner
,

And I in mine!’

‘Oh, lovely!’ said Nurse Curtis, clapping.

Nurse Patterson nodded at me grudgingly. ‘That’s nicely sung, Elsie – but that’ll do for today. Now let’s get cracking on injections, Curtis.’

They pulled down the blankets one by one and examined each child’s splint and brace and plaster to check they weren’t rubbing their flesh raw. I didn’t have any so my blanket stayed tucked under my chin – thank goodness, because I still had two fistfuls of stolen sweeties.

I had to wait a long time for Nurse Patterson and Nurse Curtis to go again. At long last they bustled off together, so I sat up and passed the sweets both ways until every child had one. Even Angus in his plaster bed moved his hand and hastily popped his sweet in his mouth. For a while we lay still, sucking contentedly.

Martin swallowed. ‘I suppose you’re OK really, Gobface – for a girl.’