It Won't Hurt a Bit by Jane Yeadon Read Free Book Online Page A

least she’s likely to be getting home and not leaving in a box.’ Wilma dismissed the subject with a flick of her duster.

    ‘I hope I never get that hard hearted,’ I said, returning home one day and reeling off a litany of complaints, ‘but at least Matron’s back and bringing more than sunshine with her. Honestly, Mum, the place is different when she’s around. I’d love to be like her.’
    My mother looked distracted and pointed to the mantelpiece.
    ‘Let’s see if you get the chance.’
    There, behind the canary yellow clock painted to match its surroundings, was an official-looking envelope with an Aberdeen postmark.
    Dry mouthed, I lifted the letter as if it were a bomb and with shaking fingers opened it.
    Bob, snoozing by the fire, yawned largely, showing the teeth of a dedicated carnivore, then returned to the rabbits of his dreams whilst in the yard hens clucked as if in disapproval. I looked at my hands so Lysol worn they could do serious damage and stretched my neck. Somewhere in the distance came the cough of an unhealthy sounding tractor keeping Dad well distant.
    I scanned the paper, kicked a log to a safer place in the fire and dropped my shoulders. It had been such a long time since I’d passed any exam I wasn’t used to success, then looking down on fire flames leaping, dying and rising again, remembered Mr Matheson, grateful for his memory which too must have played a part in my acceptance.
    ‘Yes! I’m off to Aberdeen and I am going to be a nurse.’ I waved the paper in triumph and hugged Mum.
    ‘Och I knew you’d be fine,’ she said and uncrossed her fingers.

    Sister Gordon would have disapproved of the air punching, and even if all the other staff were delighted, she wasn’t about to change tack.
    ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
    I was back in harness and she’d appeared at my shoulder. ‘Since when were you allowed to test urine?’ Tucking her fingers under her belt she beat out a drum roll, a sure sign of displeasure. ‘You’re supposed to be cleaning the clinic floor. You’ve nothing to do with anything above it.
    ‘Ssh! I’m counting.’ I measured five urine drops into a test tube. ‘Now, ten of water. Yes, Matron said I could.’ I dropped a tablet into the test tube and watched as it fizzed and changed colour. ‘She said it’d be good practice for when I’m training.’ It was hard not to sound smug. ‘And look! Good news. It’s blue.’ I consulted a colour chart on the wall. ‘Negative. Mrs Spence’ll be pleased. There’s no sugar.’
    I eyed her thoughtfully and held up the tube. ‘Now there’s a funny thing. Look! Same colour as your eyes, Sister.’
    ‘It’s a pity you’re leaving so soon, doubtless in another month, you’d be doing brain surgery,’ her voice was as sharp as a knife, ‘but in the meantime, the toilet in the men’s ward needs cleaning.’
    She stopped to look out the window onto the grounds where Matron was speaking to Henry. Tap tap, went the fingers whilst she made a line of her mouth. Gardeners and cleaners must be part of her fiefdom. Maybe he’d lent her his secateurs to cut Miss Kerr’s nails before she went home and Henry needed them back.
    She turned on her heel. ‘I’m going to have a word with Henry. Mind and you do that toilet properly,’ she said as she pointed a finger. ‘Your work is so slapdash, I don’t think you’ll find your training such an easy billet.’

    I hoped she wasn’t right. It might be hard going back to study, especially as the recommended books were heavy going with illustrations explicit enough to make Dad blench and Mum ban them to my bedroom. Along with some paper nylon petticoats, I’d put them in a suitcase and closed the lid.
    Time wore on with the patients clocking a countdown in case I forgot to leave.
    ‘How time flies!’ they said, as if their days were full of action.
    ‘Not long now,’ said my parents, consulting the calf feed calendar and marking off the days.