Free Bittersweet by Colleen McCullough

uniforms concealed their bodies and the differently coloured eyes dominated their faces. It also helped that Kitty liked caring for boys, whereas Tufts preferred girls, so they were usually seen as individuals.
    “Report to me in my office, nurses, as soon as you return from lunch,” said Sister Moulton with unusual curtness.
    “What on earth is the matter?” Tufts asked Kitty over ham sandwiches in their house. “However, my conscience is clear.”
    “That was said with a smirk, Nurse Sanctimonious. Since I know Moulton far better than you do, I’m going to guess that we are about to be handed some sort of special job.”
    The correct guess, as they found out half an hour later in Sister Moulton’s office. Dr. Dennis Faraday was there too, both of them looking grave.
    “Because the case you will be nursing will also be a brief one, Matron has suggested that the four new-style trainees be assigned to it,” Dr. Faraday said in his deep, pleasant voice. A very big man who had been a famous rugby football player in his youth, he reminded those who met him of a benign, friendly brown bear — brown skin, brown hair, brown eyes — and possessed an indefinable magic in handling children.
    “Under ordinary circumstances,” he went on, “dying children are nursed on the ward as far as possible. However, the child you will be nursing cannot be subjected to curious eyes. Corunda is a hotbed of gossip, and child patients have many visitors. Your patient will be nursed in isolation, away from outsiders. The child’s name is Michael Vesper, but he responds to Mikey. He’s riddled with metastatic sarcoma and suffers terribly. A tiny dose of opiate liberates the most wonderful little boy — so cheerful and so grateful! He knows he’s dying, and he’s a hero.”
    The doctor’s eyes shone with tears; Sister Moulton sent a glare at Kitty and Tufts that warned them not to discuss Doctor’s emotions. “When I can, nurses, I’ll give you the police reports, the Almoner’s notes, everything I can find aboutMikey.” Dr. Faraday blinked, drew a breath. “Mikey is two years old, but looks no older than twelve months. Until today, he has been undiagnosed and untreated. Were it not for the curiosity of our District Nurse, he would never have been noticed or rescued. I give him about two or three weeks to live, but I am determined that those paltry few days will be the happiest and most comfortable of all Mikey’s life.”
    Dr. Faraday moved to the door. “Sister, further explanations are in your hands.” And with a smile, he disappeared.
    The ensuing silence seemed to last for hours; in reality, a few minutes that saw Grace and Edda arrive, learn what was about to happen. In fourteen months they had never served together as a quartet, nor would they nursing Mikey Vesper, though he was their only patient. Kitty and Tufts elected to do 6 a.m. until 10 p.m. together, Grace did the night shift, and Edda was spell nurse.
    “Matron chose you,” said Sister Moulton, “chiefly because you won’t gossip to anyone . Why she’s so confident I have no idea, but I accept her judgement. What I personally want to say is that you retain some measure of detachment. Mikey Vesper is a heart-breaking case, but if you let him break your hearts, you’ll never achieve registration.”
    “We will survive, Sister,” said Edda.
    But Sister Moulton wasn’t finished. “How much of Mikey’s malnutrition is due to cancer metastases and how much to sheer neglect we don’t know, except that both have contributed. Worst of all is that Mikey has never mattered enough to anyone to develop an identity. He’s no more and no less than a nuisanceunderfoot. His mother is forced to work harder than most slaves — Vesper sells her services as a laundress. District Nurse doesn’t know if she’s mentally dull or the victim of a language barrier — the family is German, and has only been in Corunda eighteen months. Children are something the poor woman