I’m that distracted today
I don’t know whether I’m on my head or heels.’
The owner of the cap, a dumpling of a woman in a
tight black bombazine dress and the tiniest boots Elly had seen on an adult,
fluttered back to a table squeezed in under the window and sat down.
Wondering whether everyone in the building made
a habit of going through doors like charging bulls, Elly accepted the
invitation to enter a room lined and compressed by wall cabinets into a slit
little wider than the window. She took the only other chair, opposite the
table, and found herself face to face with the woman. Sunlight pouring through
the uncurtained glass cruelly revealed lines of worry in a skin like pitted tallow,
but the woman smiled hopefully as she held out a hand to Elly.
‘I’m Mrs Box, the Matron, only the Board prefers
the title “Lady Superintendent”. My dear, welcome to the Sydney Dispensary and
Infirmary. We take in the poorer citizens on recommendation, you know. Now that
transportation has ceased, the old idea of a convict establishment has gone for
ever.’ She took a breath. ‘You have come in answer to the advertisement, of
course. Now, tell me all about yourself.’
Elly glanced around the room once more, mentally
preparing her approach, noting the partition dividing a once reasonable space
to create more of an alleyway than an office. Through the thin wall she could
hear quarrelling voices and the clangour of metal being dropped.
She raised her own voice. ‘I’m afraid I know
nothing about an advertisement, Matron. I landed at the Sydney Quay only twenty
minutes ago and came straight here in the hope of obtaining a nursing position
with you.’
The plump shoulders sank. The starch seemed to
go out of the Matron’s bonnet. ‘Oh, dear, how vexatious. I did so hope... You
seemed like someone... A definite improvement on the usual style of
applicant...’
Elly studied the woebegone face. ‘What is the difficulty,
Matron? Perhaps I can help.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I don’t know... They said
it must be someone well qualified. I can’t go on without a trained assistant. But
it’s so difficult to find... ‘ Her hands picked agitatedly at her collar.
Elly’s heartbeat quickened. ‘You’re seeking an experienced
nurse? What qualifications must be met?’
The woman peered at her more closely, her
interest sharpened. ‘Why, well, experience in nursing, of course, plus the
control of staff and patients. It would be such a help if you could make out
reports for the Board of Directors. Mr Deas Thomson - he’s an Honourable, you
must know – is most particular in the matter of reports. But there are so few
women able to...’ Again she drew in her breath. ‘Could you do it?’
Elly thought rapidly. Dared she try for it,
without any real credentials? Yet this could be her entree to the medical
world, where opportunities might occur, or be made to happen.
‘I believe I could satisfy the Board as to my
suitability, Mrs Box. How many wards are there?’
The Matron began to tick off items on her fingers.
‘There are seven in all, two female, both on this floor, with twenty beds to
the ward, although we fit more than one person to each bed. There are two
honorary physicians plus two honorary surgeons on staff, augmented by the
divisional surgeons, with Mr Hugh Houston as our resident in charge.’
‘How many nursing staff do you have?’
‘We have three female nurses with twelve wards
men for the male patients.’ Mrs Box paused, perhaps seeing Elly’s expression
alter. ‘We are sadly understaffed, but the Board has promised this will change.
I could perhaps arrange a slightly higher salary. Should you prove
satisfactory.’
The hastily tacked-on phrase at the end amused
Elly, now aware of Matron’s desperate need. Well, she’d give good value and
earn the extra money. ‘How much are you offering, Mrs Box?’
‘Twenty pounds per annum, all found.’
Elly grimaced. It would keep her alive.
I don’t know whether I’m on my head or heels.’
The owner of the cap, a dumpling of a woman in a
tight black bombazine dress and the tiniest boots Elly had seen on an adult,
fluttered back to a table squeezed in under the window and sat down.
Wondering whether everyone in the building made
a habit of going through doors like charging bulls, Elly accepted the
invitation to enter a room lined and compressed by wall cabinets into a slit
little wider than the window. She took the only other chair, opposite the
table, and found herself face to face with the woman. Sunlight pouring through
the uncurtained glass cruelly revealed lines of worry in a skin like pitted tallow,
but the woman smiled hopefully as she held out a hand to Elly.
‘I’m Mrs Box, the Matron, only the Board prefers
the title “Lady Superintendent”. My dear, welcome to the Sydney Dispensary and
Infirmary. We take in the poorer citizens on recommendation, you know. Now that
transportation has ceased, the old idea of a convict establishment has gone for
ever.’ She took a breath. ‘You have come in answer to the advertisement, of
course. Now, tell me all about yourself.’
Elly glanced around the room once more, mentally
preparing her approach, noting the partition dividing a once reasonable space
to create more of an alleyway than an office. Through the thin wall she could
hear quarrelling voices and the clangour of metal being dropped.
She raised her own voice. ‘I’m afraid I know
nothing about an advertisement, Matron. I landed at the Sydney Quay only twenty
minutes ago and came straight here in the hope of obtaining a nursing position
with you.’
The plump shoulders sank. The starch seemed to
go out of the Matron’s bonnet. ‘Oh, dear, how vexatious. I did so hope... You
seemed like someone... A definite improvement on the usual style of
applicant...’
Elly studied the woebegone face. ‘What is the difficulty,
Matron? Perhaps I can help.’
The woman shook her head. ‘I don’t know... They said
it must be someone well qualified. I can’t go on without a trained assistant. But
it’s so difficult to find... ‘ Her hands picked agitatedly at her collar.
Elly’s heartbeat quickened. ‘You’re seeking an experienced
nurse? What qualifications must be met?’
The woman peered at her more closely, her
interest sharpened. ‘Why, well, experience in nursing, of course, plus the
control of staff and patients. It would be such a help if you could make out
reports for the Board of Directors. Mr Deas Thomson - he’s an Honourable, you
must know – is most particular in the matter of reports. But there are so few
women able to...’ Again she drew in her breath. ‘Could you do it?’
Elly thought rapidly. Dared she try for it,
without any real credentials? Yet this could be her entree to the medical
world, where opportunities might occur, or be made to happen.
‘I believe I could satisfy the Board as to my
suitability, Mrs Box. How many wards are there?’
The Matron began to tick off items on her fingers.
‘There are seven in all, two female, both on this floor, with twenty beds to
the ward, although we fit more than one person to each bed. There are two
honorary physicians plus two honorary surgeons on staff, augmented by the
divisional surgeons, with Mr Hugh Houston as our resident in charge.’
‘How many nursing staff do you have?’
‘We have three female nurses with twelve wards
men for the male patients.’ Mrs Box paused, perhaps seeing Elly’s expression
alter. ‘We are sadly understaffed, but the Board has promised this will change.
I could perhaps arrange a slightly higher salary. Should you prove
satisfactory.’
The hastily tacked-on phrase at the end amused
Elly, now aware of Matron’s desperate need. Well, she’d give good value and
earn the extra money. ‘How much are you offering, Mrs Box?’
‘Twenty pounds per annum, all found.’
Elly grimaced. It would keep her alive.
Similar Books
