Free Isobel on the Way to the Corner Shop by Amy Witting Page B

returned with enlightenment.
    The nurse shook her head in bewilderment while she pressed fingertips to a vein in Isobel’s wrist and counted seconds.
    She removed the thermometer, checked temperature, made a note on the chart hooked to the end of Isobel’s bed and said, ‘Now what was that about?’
    ‘Per rectum. I just remembered, somebody said, “Better take it per rectum, Sister.” I just realised, she must have been taking my temperature. But I didn’t know what “per rectum” meant.’
    ‘You found out!’
    The nurse was laughing, too.
    ‘And I was most indignant! I thought I was being got at in a very nasty way. I’d forgotten it until this minute.’
    ‘You weren’t right out to it, then?’
    ‘Not all the time. Things kept getting through.’
    ‘Like saying you weren’t a bloody xylophone.’
    Isobel groaned.
    ‘Did I really say that?’
    ‘Yes. You got Doc Hansen into trouble for laughing. He said he couldn’t help himself. It just took him by surprise. Well, it’ll certainly take a lot to get you down. I’d better get on or Her Nibs will be on my back. I’ll see one of the orderlies about the toothbrush and anything else you want from the shop. Bye.’ She said from the doorway, ‘My name’s Bernie, by the way.’
    I like you, Bernie. And you didn’t ask me, ‘How come?’
    The chat had been enlivening, but tiring. She lay back and dozed, thinking she could do this for ever, just lie passive and let the time pass.
    Her next visitor came after lunch, a small slight woman, black-haired and black-eyed, quick in movement, earnest in manner.
    ‘Hullo. You’re Isobel? I’m Roberta Mills. Doctor Hansen thought we should have a talk. About things in general. Facing up to tuberculosis is a big thing. I’m not talking about the cure, that’s for the doctors and they know what they are doing. You can be sure of that. There may be other things you would like to talk about. Doctor Hansen said you haven’t asked to have anyone notified?’
    ‘My parents are dead.’
    That wasn’t going to satisfy Mrs Mills.
    ‘No other family?’
    ‘I have a sister who lives in the country. We had lost touch.’
    ‘Any family problems I can help with? Anyone you would like me to approach on your behalf?’
    ‘No thank you.’
    Mrs Mills wasn’t going to give up easily.
    ‘Tell me something about yourself. When did you and your sister part?’
    You couldn’t tell Mrs Mills to mind her own business. This was her business. This was all part of being a parcel. Parcels can be opened and inspected.
    ‘After my mother died, an aunt took Margaret to live with her in the country.’
    Mrs Mills became alert.
    ‘Did you feel rejected, that your sister was chosen? Were you invited to join them?’
    How to keep Aunt Noelene out of this? If Mrs Mills discovered the existence of Aunt Noelene, she would be making an approach there, whether Isobel liked it or not.
    ‘No. I didn’t want to go to the country. And I wanted to be independent.’
    ‘At what stage were you when your mother died?’
    ‘I’d just finished the Leaving. Margaret was working in an office. She is two years older than I am.’
    ‘And you didn’t think it odd, that the younger sister should be left alone in the city, while the other was taken into a family?’
    ‘It was what I wanted.’
    Mrs Mills nodded.
    ‘How did you do at school?’
    Pretty well. Dux, actually.
    Truly, the question was impertinent.
    ‘All right.’
    ‘What about your pass in the Leaving? Were you happy with it?’
    ‘First class Honours in English and German, As in French and History, Bs in Maths I and Chemistry. I suppose I wasn’t too happy about those.’
    Mrs Mills looked at her steadily and earnestly.
    What’s a nice girl like you doing in a plight like this?
    Just lucky, I guess.
    No use trying dirty jokes on Mrs Mills.
    ‘Isobel, are you sure there is nothing you want to talk to me about? No trouble you want to discuss?’
    Drink, drugs, kleptomania,