office at the far end of the room. It was Matron, the senior nurse who was in charge of the ward. Slowly and surely she made her way down the row of beds towards Tom, her high heels clunking on the floor.
From a distance, Matron looked like she was beautiful. Her long blonde hair had been sprayed perfectly in place, her face was shiny with make-up and her teeth were sparkling white. However, when she got nearer to Tom, the boy realised that her smile was fake. Her eyes were two large black pools, a window into the darkness within. Matron’s perfume was so sickly sweet it burned the children’s throats as she passed by.
“You are meant to catch a cricket ball! Not header it!” said the lady. “Stupid, stupid child! Ha ha ha!” No one laughed except her. It certainly didn’t sound funny to Tom, whose head was still throbbing with pain.
“That cricket ball left a very nasty bump, Madam Matron,” slurred the porter. His voice was cracking a little, as if he was nervous of the woman. “I think young sir should have an X-ray first thing in the morning.”
“I don’t need your opinion, thank you!” snapped Matron. In an instant, her face didn’t seem that beautiful after all, as it twisted into a snarl. “You are nothing more than a lowly porter, lowest of the low. You don’t know the first thing about caring for the patients. So in future keep your mouth shut!”
The porter lowered his head, and the other children exchanged nervous looks. It was clear this lady intimidated them all too.
With a flick of her hand, Matron brushed the porter aside, and he stumbled a little to steady himself.
“Let me look at this bump,” she said as she peered over the boy. “Mmm, yes, that is a nasty bump. You should have an X-ray first thing in the morning.”
The porter rolled his eyes at Tom, but once again the boy didn’t react.
Without even so much as glancing at him, Matron said to the man, “Porter, you may go before you stink out my ward!”
The porter sighed before giving a brief smile and nod to all the children on the ward.
“Quickly!” shouted the woman, and the man limped off as fast as he could, dragging his withered leg behind him.
Tom began longing to be back at school. The children’s ward seemed an utterly miserable place to be.
Matron launched into what seemed like a very well-rehearsed speech. A speech she must have given to all her new patients.
“Now, young man, this is MY ward and these are MY rules. Lights out at 8pm sharp. No talking after lights out. No reading under the covers. No eating of sweeties. If I do hear the rustle of sweet papers in the dark, I will confiscate them on the spot. Yes, that includes you, George!”
The podgy boy immediately stopped chewing, and kept his mouth tightly shut so Matron couldn’t see he was chewing a chocolate at that very moment.
The woman continued at quite a pace. Her words snapped like the crack of a whip.
“No getting out of bed. No visits to the toilet during the night; that is what the bedpan is for. You will find a bedpan under your bed. There is a bell on the wall by your head. Ring the bell in the night only in an absolute emergency. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” replied Tom. It was like being told off before you had actually even done anything wrong.
“Now, have you brought any pyjamas with you?” she asked.
“No,” replied Tom. “I must have been rushed here in an ambulance when I was knocked out on the cricket pitch. I didn’t have a chance to pack anything, so I’ve just got my cricket kit that I came in. I don’t mind sleeping in it.”
Matron’s lips curled in horror. “Repulsive child! You are as bad as that disgusting excuse for a human being, the porter. He smells like he sleeps in his clothes. Ha ha! Can we call your parents to bring some pyjamas for you?”
Tom shook his head sorrowfully.
“Why not?”
“My mother and father live abroad.”
“Where?”
The boy hesitated before answering. “I am not sure.”
“You are not sure?!” said Matron loudly so everyone could hear. It was as if she wanted all the children in the ward to enjoy the new boy being humiliated as much as she did.
“They move around a lot for my father’s work. I know it’s somewhere with a desert.”
“Well, that narrows it down!” she snarled sarcastically. “You don’t even know what country your own parents live in! Well, you will fit right in here. The children in this ward are all ones whose parents don’t ever visit for one reason or another. They are either too poor to travel like Amber’s, or too ill like Robin’s, or live too far away like Sally’s. George has the best reason, though. Would you care to explain why your parents never visit, George?”
“Nah,” the boy muttered in his cockney accent. The accent struck Tom, as no one at his boarding school talked like George. The poor boy looked desperately embarrassed. “Don’t …”
“George’s father is in prison! For robbery, no less! So if anything goes missing in the ward we’ll know who to blame! Like father, like son! Ha ha!”
“I ain’t a thief!” shouted George.
“No need to be so sensitive, child. It’s just my little joke!”
“Well, it ain’t funny!” he replied.
“Ooh!” she added mockingly. “I’ve touched a nerve! Now I have an idea for you, Tom. Let me find you something to wear in my lost-property box.”
With a glint in her eye, Matron turned on her heel and disappeared into her office. Moments later, she emerged with her hands behind her back and a suspicious grin on her face.
“I am awfully sad to say, Tom, that I don’t have any pyjamas to fit you!” she said. “So you will just have to wear this!”
From behind her back, Matron produced a pink, frilly nightdress. The smug grin on her face became even smugger.
Tom looked at the pink, frilly nightdress with horror. If the other boys in his boarding school ever heard about him wearing it, he would never ever live it down. In fact, he would be forever known as Pink-Frilly-Nightdress Boy.
“Please just let me keep my cricket gear on, Matron,” pleaded Tom.
“I said no!” snapped Matron.
“I got pyjamas ’e can borrow,”
