mother phoned in the evening. ‘I thought you might be home,’ she said vaguely. ‘I expect you’re happy to be starting at St Jules’. You see that we were right, my dear. This little job you have had hasn’t made any difference at all, just a few weeks’ delay. I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty in catching up with the other students. Your father and I will be coming home very shortly. I can’t say exactly when. The tour is such a success we may extend it. Is your cousin there?’
Araminta started to say that she wasn’t, but her mother had already begun to tell her about some remarkable Celtic documents they had been examining. It took a long time to explain them and when she had finished Mrs Pomfrey said a hurried goodbye. ‘I have so much to think of,’ she explained. ‘I’ll send a card when we are coming home.’
St Jules’ Hospital was old, although it had been added to, patched up and refurbished from time to time. It was a gloomy place, looming over the narrow streets surrounding it, but the entrance hall was handsome enough, with portraits of dead and gone medical men on its panelled walls and the handsome staircase sweeping up one side of it. A staircase which no one except the most senior staff were allowed to tread.
Araminta was bidden to take herself and her case to the nurses’ home, reached by a rather dark tunnel at the back of the hall. There was a door at the other end and when she opened it cautiously she found herself in a small hallway with stairs ahead of her and a door marked ‘Office’ at one side.
It seemed sense to knock, and, bidden to go in, she opened the door.
The woman behind the small desk was middle-aged with a pale face and colourless hair, wearing a dark maroon uniform.
‘Araminta Pomfrey? Come in and shut the door. I’ll take you to your room presently. You can leave your outdoor things there before you go to see the Principal Nursing Officer.’ She shuffled through a pile of papers.
‘Here is a list of rules. You are expected to keep them while you live here. When you have completed your first year you will be allowed to live out if you wish. No smoking or drinking, no men visitors unless they visit for some good reason.’
She drew a form from a pile on the desk. ‘I’ll check your particulars. You are twenty-three? A good deal older than the other students. Unmarried? Parents living? British by birth?’ She was ticking off the items as she read them. ‘Is that your case? We will go to your room.’
They climbed the stairs, and then another flight to the floor above, and the woman opened a door halfway down a long corridor. ‘You’ll have your own key, of course. You will make your bed and keep your room tidy.’
The room was small and rather dark, since its window overlooked a wing of the hospital, but it was furnished nicely and the curtains and bedcover were pretty. There was a washbasin in one corner and a built-in wardrobe.
Araminta was handed a key. She asked, ‘What should I call you? You are a sister?’
‘I am the warden—Miss Jeff.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Come back to my office in ten minutes and I’ll take you for your interview.’
Left alone, Araminta turned her back on the view from the window, took off her jacket and tidied her hair. She hoped she looked suitably dressed; her skirt was too long for fashion, but her blouse was crisply ironed and her shoes were well polished. She went out of the room, locked the door, put the key in her shoulder bag and found her way to Miss Jeff.
The Principal Nursing Officer’s office was large, with big windows draped with velvet curtains, a carpet underfoot and a rather splendid desk. She herself was just as elegant. She was a tall woman, still good-looking, dressed in a beautifully tailored suit. She shook Araminta’s hand, and told her crisply that she was fortunate that there had been an unexpected vacancy.
‘Which I could have filled a dozen times, but Dr van der Breugh is an old friend and very highly thought of here in the hospital. He assured me that you had given up your place in order to cope with an emergency in his family.’ She smiled. ‘You are a lucky young woman to have such an important sponsor.’ She studied Araminta’s face. ‘I hope that you will be happy here. I see no reason why you shouldn’t be. You will work hard, of course, but you will make friends. You are older than the other student nurses, but I don’t suppose that will make any difference.’
She nodded a friendly dismissal and Araminta went back to her room, where she unpacked and took a look at the uniform laid out on the bed. It was cotton, in blue and white stripes with a stiff belt, and there was a little badge she was to wear pinned on her chest with her name on it.
The warden had told her to go down to the canteen for her tea at four o’clock. She made her way back down the stairs and into the hospital, down more stairs into the basement. The canteen was large, with a long counter and a great many tables—most of them occupied. Araminta went to the counter, took a tray, loaded it with a plate of bread and butter and a little pot of jam, collected her tea and then stood uncertainly for a moment, not sure where she should sit. There was a variety of uniforms, so she looked for someone wearing blue and white stripes.
Someone gave her a little shove from behind. ‘New, are you?’
The speaker was a big girl, wearing, to Araminta’s relief, blue and white stripes, and when she nodded, she said, ‘Come with me, we have to sit with our own set—the dark blue are sisters, the light blue are staff nurses. Don’t go sitting with them.’
She led the way to the far end of the room to where several girls were sitting round a table. ‘Here’s our new girl,’ she told them. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Araminta Pomfrey.’
Several of the girls smiled, and one of them said, ‘What a mouthful. Sister Tutor isn’t going to like that.’
‘Everyone calls me Mintie.’
‘That’s more like it. Sit down and have your tea. Any idea which ward you are to go to in the morning?’
‘No. Whom do I ask?’
‘No one. It’ll be on the board outside this place; you can look presently. Have you unpacked? Supper’s at eight o’clock if you’re off duty. What room number are you? I’ll fetch you.’
‘Thank you.’
The big girl grinned. ‘My name’s Molly Beckett.’ She waved a hand. ‘And this is Jean, and that’s Sue in the corner…’ She named the girls one by one.
‘We’re all on different wards, but not all day, we have lectures and demonstrations. You’ll be run off your feet on the ward, and heaven help you if Sister doesn’t like you.’ She got up. ‘We’re all on duty now, but I’m off at six o’clock; I’ll see you then. Come with us and we’ll look at the board.’
There was a dismayed murmur as they crowded round to look for Araminta’s name.
‘Baxter’s,’ said Molly. ‘That’s Sister Spicer. I don’t want to frighten you, but look out for her, Mintie. She’s got a tongue like a razor and if she takes a dislike to you you might as well leave.’
Araminta went back to her room, put her family photos on the dressing table, arranged her few books on the little shelf by the bed and sat down to think. She had very little idea of what hospital life would be like and she had to admit that Sister Spicer didn’t sound very promising. But she was a sensible girl and it
