today, so I spoke to one of the orderlies about it. He said thereâs water leaking somewhere in the cellar, and none of them want to go down there to the scuttle, and theyâre having to draw straws.â
âWhat do you mean, they donât want to go down there?â
âWell.â Marthaâs eyes went even wider in her heart-shaped face. âThey say the water leaks constantly, they canât make it stop, and the scuttle is placed far in the back. You have to cross the cellar to get to it. And sometimes, at the back, they hear sounds in the water behind them closer to the stairs, likeâlike splashing footsteps. And so they wonât go down.â
We all fell silent. Finally Matron spoke. âAre you telling me,â she said, her mannish voice slow with disbelief, âthat the orderliesâgrown
men
âare afraid of a few mice in the cellar?â
âUnacceptable,â said Boney.
Martha bit her lip. âBut they say itâs true.â
âIt sounds like poppycock to me,â said Nina, as she shoveled in another mouthful of stew. âSend me down there. Iâll go.â
âThere will be no need, Nurse Shouldice,â said Matron. âI will speak to Paulus myself.â
Paulus, I gathered, was the huge orderly, the man with the South African accent. Nina shrugged. Martha worried her lip, her supper forgotten.
Matron turned to me. âAnd you, Nurse Weekes? What nonsense have you brought me? Or are you a girl with even a minimum of intelligence?â
There was a glint in her eye; she was waiting for something from me, something she expected. I lifted my chin. âWhat happened in the dining room today,â I said. âThe nosebleed. Iâd like an explanation.â
âWould you?â said Matron.
âFrom the way you spoke to him, thereâs obviously a history. If Iâm to care for him, Iâd like to know what it is Iâm to expect.â
She frowned. If thereâd been a test, I wondered whether I had passed it. âMr. Mabry has a particular psychoneurosis,â she said. âHe often seems calm, but he is prone to fits. They can be violent, so you must take care if youâre in his presence when heâs struck with one. He has broken several items during his time at Portis House.â
I digested that. âAnd the nosebleed?â
âIs one of his recurring fits. The doctors believe it is of particular concern. They have been focusing their treatment on it, and before today he hadnât had one in nearly three weeks.â
âTreatment?â I looked around the table. âDo you mean he somehow
makes
himself have nosebleeds?â
âYou saw it yourself,â said Boney. âHow else did he get it?â
I decided not to mention that I hadnât been in the dining room at the time. âItâs justâI didnât know a nosebleed could be caused by force of will.â
âHe doesnât will âem,â said Martha. âHe gets afraid. He thinks he sees something.â
âThatâs bunk and you know it.â Boney turned on her, her lips tight, spots of red high on her cheeks. âHe does no such thing!â
âNurse Fellows is correct,â Matron broke in. âMr. Mabry suffers from delusions, as do many of the men here. Mind over matter, Nurse Weekes. Mind over matter. It is what many of the men here still have to learn.â She pushed back her chair and stood. âAnd now, I expect you all to return to your posts for the evening. We have work to do.â
CHAPTER FIVE
â I t was a test, wasnât it?â I said much later in the nursesâ quarters as I sat on my narrow bed and pulled off my shoes. âSupper, I mean. Putting me in there alone.â
Martha, standing before the washbasin and pouring water over her hand from the pitcher, glanced sympathetically at me. âI wouldnât worry about it. Boney does it to
Learning to Kill: Stories