THE CHURCH CLOCK across the street chimed the half hour, and Miss Georgina Rodman, already walking down the corridor leading to Casualty, put on a sudden desperate turn of speed. There was a chanceâa faint oneâthat she might arrive on duty before Staff Nurse Gregg; if she didnât, it would mean the third time late on duty in a week, and Gregg would probably report her to Sister. It would be of no use making excuses, for Gregg never needed to make excuses for herself, and couldnât understand why anyone else should either. Nurse Rodman wasted precious breath on a sigh as she ran, for her excuses were good onesâon Monday it had been the ward maid falling downstairs with that large pan of porridge; the porridge hadnât been hot, but extremely sticky; thinking about it, Georgina couldnât see how she could have ignored the girlâs cries for help. She had been late on Thursday too, when she had met a rather down-trodden old lady who had been told to attend for a barium meal at seven-thirty in the morning, and didnât know where to go. It had only taken a very short time to walk with her to X-Rayâjust long enough for Staff Nurse to remark triumphantly:
âLate again, Nurse! You should know betterâhow can you hope to set a good example to the juniors? And you waiting for the results of your Finals!â
Her tone had implied that Georgina need not expect good news. And now it was Saturday, and she was late again, for she had stopped to ask Payne the head porter how his wife was feeling; the poor soul had been ill for weeks, and Payne had been looking sad. She pulled up outside Cas swing doors and drew a breath. It was a pity that life didnât allow you time to dawdle a little on the way. She opened the doors, to find Staff Nurse Gregg waiting for herâdoing the dispensary, of course, because that was her particular job in the mornings; but she had dragged the basket into the center of the room so that she wouldnât miss Georgina.
She looked pained. âLate again, Nurse Rodmanâthe third time this week. I shall have to report you to Sisterâthere might have been a terrific emergency on.â
Georgina said, âYes, Staffâ because it was expected of her, and went to twiddle the knobs of the sterilizers in an expert way and count the packets of dressings and instruments CSD had just sent down. The two junior nurses had already prepared the cubicles for the day. She slipped quietly in and out of them, making sure that everything was just so. The first contained a tired-looking boy, a bare, grubby foot on the stool before him, clutching his shoe and sock.
âTrodden on a rusty nail?â asked Georgina in a friendly voice. She was already busy cleaning it up.
âHow did you know?â asked the boy.
âWe get a great manyâitâs a common accident. Itâll be fine in a day or twoâyou wonât need to stop work, but Iâll have to give you an injection.â She gave him a nice wide smile and went to find Staff. She wasnât a trained nurse yetâshe couldnât give ATS without getting permission. Gregg gave it with the air of conferring a great honour.
âWhy didnât you leave the boy? Itâs nothing urgent,â she wanted to know.
âHeâs on night work, it would be a shame to keep him from his bed.â
Staff frowned. âYouâll never make a good nurse,â she grumbled, âyouâre so impetuous.â
Georgina gave the injection, wondering why she was impetuous. Surely it was plain common sense to clear the cubicles of the minor cases as quickly as possible, otherwise there would be such a bottleneck later on in the morning. She wrote up the boyâs card, filled in the day book, tidied up neatly and went into the last cubicle. Both nurses were in it, as she had guessed they would be. They grinned cheerfully at her, and the youngest and prettiest said, âOh, George, isnât she in a foul mood?â
Georgina grinned back. âItâll be worse if you donât get a porter to change the oxygen in Two ⦠and there arenât any dressings in Four.â There was a hurried movement for the door and she added, âIâve seen to the dressings, but itâll look better if you report the oxygen.â
They stopped at the door. âGeorge,â said the nurse who had forgotten the dressings, âwe wish you were staff.â
âThatâs nice of you both, but I expect Iâve failed my State, you know.â
She turned to the tiny mirror on the wall to straighten her cap. She had fine, silky hair, and the cap needed a great many pins to keep it at a dignified angle. It was pretty hair, too, light brown and long, and she screwed it up into a severe plaited knob at the back because it was quick to do and stayed tidy that way. She looked at herself in the little square of glass while she re-planted some pins. The face that looked back at her was a good-looking one; not prettyâthe nose was a trifle too large and the chin a thought too square, but the brown eyes were large and clear, like a childâs; their lashes long and curling and thick. The mouth was large too, a generous mouth with corners that turned up and smiled readily. She was neither tall nor short and a little on the plump side and looked considerably younger than her twenty-three years. She gave the bib of her apron a tweak and made for the doorâit was time to dish the bowls.