The Twelve Little Cakes (29 page)

“Me, too,” whispered Mirka

“So do we,” said Erika and Lucie.

“I don't,” Gejza declared proudly. “I have typhus.”

“What's that?” I asked.

“Oh, it's just like dysentery,” Zoltan said. “He's just showing off.”

Heavy steps echoed in the corridor and the lights snapped on in the ward next to ours. The Gypsy kids scurried back to their beds, and through the big glass window, I could see Nurse Magda shaking a young boy awake. She rolled him over, pulled his pants down, and smeared his thigh with a yellow liquid. Then she jabbed him with a needle. The boy immediately started to cry, but Nurse Magda said something that made him stop. Then she pulled his pants back up and switched off the lights.

As soon as the slap of her footsteps died away, the Gypsy kids reappeared at my bedside.

“That was Magda. She's nasty,” Lucie whispered. “She hits you if she catches you talking after dark.”

I was horrified at the prospect of being hit by Magda. Her work with the IV had been punishment enough.

“What about the other wards?” I asked. “Are they allowed to talk?”

“We don't know,” Lucie replied. “We can see them, but we can't hear them.”

“And they're allowed to eat,” Erika added.

“What? We're not allowed to eat?” I cried.

“Shhh,” Zoltan whispered. “Eating just makes you shit harder, you know?”

“Measles, mumps, and smallpox get biscuits and fruit,” Lucie said miserably. “Jaundice are allowed to have sugar in their tea, and the kids with heavy colds get whatever they want.”

“Well, what do we get?” I asked.

“Black tea and dry rolls,” Lucie and Erika said together.

“That's it?” I couldn't believe it.

“The nurses don't like to come in here much,” Erika shrugged.

“I don't think they like us,” Mirka whispered.

I lay down and pulled the sheet over my face, listening to the Gypsies as they returned to their beds. The room became quiet, except for the toddlers crying near the wall. They must have just soiled their nappies, because a terrible smell wafted across the room. No wonder the nurses didn't like to come in. I blocked my nostrils with my fingers and tried to fall asleep, thinking about my nice purple dress and how I had missed the beginning of school.

The following morning, a row of lights snapped on across the ceiling, one after the other, like falling dominos. I sat up and looked around. Through the big glass window at the side of our room, I could see a pretty young nurse distributing pills and thermometers to children in the other wards. She seemed much nicer than Nurse Magda. She smiled and even patted one or two of the children on their heads. Behind her, an even younger nurse with glasses pushed a tea trolley through the room, filling chipped enamel mugs with a steaming liquid. I noticed that many of the kids were reluctant to drink, but the pretty nurse made sure that they did.

“The nurses are bringing something to drink,” I called out to Zoltan. “It looks like the other kids hate it.”

“Oh, no!” Zoltan groaned. “Nurse Zdena's coming! She's going to make us drink the
vitakava
!”

“
Dzungalo! Vitakava
is disgusting!” said Gejza, sticking his tongue out for effect.

“Is that malt coffee?” I asked worriedly. “My mum always makes me drink malt coffee when I'm sick.”

“Yeah,” Zoltan said grimly. “Nurse Zdena says
vitakava
is better for us than black tea. She makes us drink it three times a week, even though it makes us shit like crazy.”

“Can't we just say we don't want any?”

“We've all tried,” Zoltan said. “Nurse Zdena says we have to put on more weight before the doctors will let us go home.”

The key turned in the lock and the two nurses wheeled their trolley inside our room.

“Good morning, children!” they said cheerfully.

Nurse Zdena made a circuit of the room, handing thermometers to the Gypsy kids, along with little cups of charcoal tablets. As she walked past my bed, she saw that my eyes were open.

“Hello there!” she smiled. “Welcome back!”

“Hello,” I said nervously. “Can I go home now?”

Nurse Zdena laughed good-humoredly and slid the thermometer under my armpit.

“It's not up to me, my dear,” she said. “First we have to make sure that your tummy bugs have gone.”

“But I feel much better!” I said. “Really! I think I'm well again!”

“That's for the doctors to decide,” Nurse Zdena smiled. “In the meantime, here's a nice cup of malt coffee!”

“I'm not very thirsty,” I said in a small voice.

The young nurse filled a cup with
vitakava,
and Nurse Zdena brought it over with a stern expression on her face.

“Now, now,” she said, pressing the cup to my lips. “You need to put back all the weight you've lost.”

The vitakava smelled like wet bedsheets, and it was covered by a thin layer of skin. It tasted even worse than my mother's malt coffee, but I drank it down without complaint.

“Good girl,” Nurse Zdena said approvingly. “And let's have another one! You're all skin and bones!”

The young nurse refilled my cup and Nurse Zdena made me drink it. When I had finished, she wiped my mouth with a cloth.

“When can I see my mum and dad?”

“On Sunday,” she said brightly. “They came to see you yesterday, but you were still asleep. They left me a package for you.”

“A package?” I said breathlessly.

Nurse Zdena smiled and asked the young nurse to hand her my package, which was on the bottom shelf of the trolley.

“Would you like me to open it for you?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” I said.

“I wish my parents would send me a package,” Lucie grumbled. “I've been here for three weeks and I haven't got a thing.”

“Now, now, Lucie,” Nurse Zdena frowned. “At least your family come and see you. Look at poor little Fedor and Aranka. They don't have parents. We'll have to send them to the orphanage as soon as they're better.”

She unwrapped my package and pulled out a pair of pink pajamas and a pair of wooden clogs.

“How lovely,” she said. “What a pity you won't be able to keep them.”

“I won't be able to keep them?” I cried.

“Of course not,” Nurse Zdena said. “We'll have to burn them when you leave, because they'll be full of nasty microbes. I'm sorry, my dear, but this is a quarantine ward. Someone should have told this to your parents when they brought you here.”

“But they're so nice!” I moaned. “Couldn't we just wash them?”

The clogs were the kind of clogs I had always wanted. They had thick cork soles and green leather straps with buckles. I couldn't believe that the nurses would burn them.

“It doesn't work like that,” Nurse Zdena explained. “Microbes are very small and they live inside the material. But maybe your parents will buy you another pair of clogs when you go home.”

“Maybe,” I said doubtfully. My parents didn't have much money. Buying me this pair would have been difficult enough.

“Breakfast time!” the young nurse called out.

She gave us each a dry bread roll, collected our cups and thermometers, and pushed her trolley to the door.

“We'll be back tomorrow morning,” Nurse Zdena smiled. “The doctors will be along shortly, so please try and tidy up your beds before they come. Nurse Magda will be very disappointed if you don't.”

She smiled sympathetically and left the ward, closing and locking the door behind her. I put on my new pajamas and admired my new clogs. The Gypsy kids were very impressed.

“Nice clogs,” they muttered. “Really nice. Ve-ry nice.”

Half an hour later, a group of student doctors appeared at the head of the corridor. I could see them through the row of big glass windows. A short doctor with a beard appeared to be in charge, and Nurse Magda was with them, wheeling a trolley of clean white towels. As the group slowly worked its way through the pavilion, the Gypsy kids were frantically trying to tidy up their beds. None of them was very good at it, and by the time the party of doctors arrived, their sheets were very messy and covered with breadcrumbs.

“Good morning, children!” the short doctor boomed.

“Good morning, Dr. Kopecky,” the Gypsy kids replied.

The doctor sniffed the air and frowned at Nurse Magda.

“You know, it still smells really bad in here.”

Nurse Magda threw an angry look at Zoltan and went to open a window with a special key.

“So . . . Dominika.” Dr. Kopecky read the plate on the bottom of my bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Much, much better, comrade doctor!” I said. “Is there any chance I could go home soon?”

The young doctors laughed, but Dr. Kopecky was very serious. He removed my sheet and prodded my tummy with his fingers.

“A classic case of dehydration, but nothing to worry about,” he told his colleagues.

He forced my eyelids open and shone a penlight in my eyes.

“The pupils are slightly dilated, but her temperature is back to normal,” he said. “I think we can disconnect the drip and continue with medicinal charcoal and regular doses of penicillin.”

The doctors nodded in agreement, and one of them helped Nurse Magda remove the IV from my arm.

“The rest of the children are on diets, so there's no problem there. I think that might be it for today,” Dr. Kopecky said. “Now, then, I wonder what's for lunch!”

“Good-bye, children!” He waved cheerily.

“Good-bye, Dr. Kopecky.” We waved back.

As Dr. Kopecky and his colleagues hurried off to have lunch, Nurse Magda stayed behind and fiddled with the IV. As soon as the doctors were out of earshot, she wheeled around and started shouting at Zoltan.

“The next time I tell you to keep your beds clean, you do it or I'll give you a good spanking!” she roared. “And what have I told you about the smell? We make three trips a day and that's it. If the babies soil their nappies, it's not my problem, it's yours. We don't have time to clean up after you Gypsies! We're understaffed as it is!”

“Yes, Nurse Magda,” Zoltan said in a thick voice.

“Well, you see to it!” she snapped. “Here are your towels. I'll be back at midday to change your bedpans. Not a minute earlier, you understand?”

“Yes, Nurse Magda,” Zoltan fumed.

We huddled meekly in our beds as Nurse Magda gave us each a fresh towel, and then she left her trolley at the door and stalked out of the room.

“What are the towels for?” I asked Zoltan.

“I don't know,” he shrugged angrily.

I could see he was upset and I wanted to say something nice to cheer him up, but before I could think of anything to say, I suddenly felt very sick. My bowels churned horribly, and I climbed down from the bed and slid my feet into the clogs.

“What are you doing?” Zoltan asked.

“I have to go to the loo,” I whimpered. “Where is it?”

“There.” Zoltan pointed to an enamel pot that sat on a little ledge beneath my bed. “You have to use that.”

I tried to pull the pot off the ledge, but my legs and hands were trembling violently.

“Oh, no!” I moaned. “I'm not going to make it!”

Zoltan leaped out of bed and handed me his pot.

“Here,” he said. “Use mine.”

The Gypsies crowded around me as I pulled down my pants. As soon as my bottom touched the rim of the pot, I filled it with a nasty explosion of diarrhea. The Gypsy kids nodded approvingly.

“Couldn't you at least turn around?” I begged.

“Why?” they asked. “We're all going to shit in a minute or two.”

As if to prove the point, they grabbed their own pots and noisily emptied their bowels a few minutes later.

“See?” Gejza cried. “It's the
vitakava
!”

The toddlers rattled the bars of their cots and started to howl. They had both soiled their nappies, and I could see the diarrhea running down their legs. The smell inside the room was overwhelming. We were shitting the malt coffee Nurse Zdena had fed us, and to my great embarrassment, I could see that some of the kids from the other wards were looking in at us and laughing.

A few minutes later, Nurse Magda burst into the room.

“What's the meaning of all this noise?” she demanded.

She strode over to the babies, cursing loudly when she saw their dirty nappies. She carried them roughly to the sink and hosed the babies down. As she soaped their bums, I could see that their buttocks were chafed and their thighs were covered with a nasty rash. So this was why they cried all night. Nurse Magda shook the babies dry and laid them on an ironing board that served as a changing table. She put a clean nappy between each one's legs, folded another into a triangle, and wrapped it expertly around their hips.

“What time is it?” she snarled at Zoltan.

Zoltan shot a frightened look at the big clock on the wall. His lips moved and I could see that he was trying to tell the time.

“It's ten o'clock, Nurse Magda,” I answered for him. “We're sorry. We really couldn't help it!”

Nurse Magda collected our pots and put them on her trolley. She shot me a black look, but spoke less harshly to me.

“I can't understand it,” she said. “You eat nothing but fill your pots to the brim. I hope your parents aren't sneaking you food. If I find out, there'll be hell to pay!”