hostel by Sister Malcolm, who told them that she was going to oversee their training. A list of rules and regulations was produced: VADs were to act with decorum at all times, there was to be no fraternising with officers, no going out dancing, and the integrity of the profession was to be upheld at all times. There should be no going out and about in ordinary clothes.
‘Besides, you will probably find that wearing your uniform gives you status and brings certain privileges,’ Sister told them. ‘Free cinema tickets, for instance, and cheap meals. I often find that when a cab driver sees that I’m a nurse, he will refuse to take any fare from me.’
A basic uniform for each girl was produced: a blue cotton dress and white apron with that all-important red cross.
‘Some of these garments have been worn before,’ said Sister Malcolm, ‘so I’m also giving each of you a pattern so that you can make a uniform in your own size when you have time. Please don’t be tempted to add your own little touches: any jewellery, ribbons or other adornments, either to your uniform or outer clothes, will be frowned on.’ She walked between the girls, studying their faces. ‘Some of the ward sisters are very strict about make-up. I’ve known girls to be sent home for having the tiniest smudge of colour on their lips.’ She paused by one girl. ‘I suppose that is a natural pink on your cheeks?’
‘Yes, sister,’ said the girl, but when Sister had moved on, Poppy saw her scrubbing at her cheeks with a hanky.
‘A sister’s word is law at all times,’ continued Sister Malcolm. ‘Never talk back, or undermine her, or – heaven help us! – a matron’s instructions, or you’ll find yourself heading straight for home on the next train. In the unlikely event that you’re allowed into a ward before your training is up . . .’
There was a murmur of disappointment from the girls.
‘What?’ said Sister in mock surprise. ‘Did you think you’d be let loose on our injured boys immediately? Did you picture yourselves setting broken bones, bandaging sore heads and saving lives?’
The girls smiled sheepishly. They all had, of course.
‘As I said, in the unlikely event that you find yourself in a ward and come face to face with an injured man, you will take your cue from the ward sister. She will understand her patient and know if he should be asleep or awake, whether she must be brisk or gentle with him, if he is able to eat or drink. You may not so much as touch a patient without her express permission. Each ward sister will have her own rules and regulations, her own way of doing things, and you must be guided by her at all times. Do you understand?’
The girls nodded solemnly.
‘Are there any questions?’
Jameson put up her hand. ‘Are there . . . will we see some terribly gruesome sights?’
‘Yes, you will,’ said Sister Malcolm. ‘Next?’
The new VADs were allocated their first tasks. Poppy and four other girls were asked to clear the top floor of the hostel of an amount of old furniture, and collect and assemble four beds ready to be occupied by new VADs. Two girls were given the task of rolling bandages; others were set variously to scrub floors in an army canteen, sterilise operating equipment at a nearby military hospital or attend their first nursing and first-aid course. Apart from the latter, these tasks were perhaps not what the girls had hoped they would be doing, but everyone tried to look willing – whilst hoping against hope that the time would go swiftly until they could begin to do what they’d joined up for: to care for injured soldiers.
Chapter Nine
Roughly halfway through Poppy’s training period, Sister Malcolm arrived earlier than usual at the hostel, looking rather anxious.
‘One of the senior sisters has got a bad bout of influenza and I’ve been asked to join a hospital train taking a large group of wounded men from the docks,’ she said. ‘An orderly will be along to
‘Besides, you will probably find that wearing your uniform gives you status and brings certain privileges,’ Sister told them. ‘Free cinema tickets, for instance, and cheap meals. I often find that when a cab driver sees that I’m a nurse, he will refuse to take any fare from me.’
A basic uniform for each girl was produced: a blue cotton dress and white apron with that all-important red cross.
‘Some of these garments have been worn before,’ said Sister Malcolm, ‘so I’m also giving each of you a pattern so that you can make a uniform in your own size when you have time. Please don’t be tempted to add your own little touches: any jewellery, ribbons or other adornments, either to your uniform or outer clothes, will be frowned on.’ She walked between the girls, studying their faces. ‘Some of the ward sisters are very strict about make-up. I’ve known girls to be sent home for having the tiniest smudge of colour on their lips.’ She paused by one girl. ‘I suppose that is a natural pink on your cheeks?’
‘Yes, sister,’ said the girl, but when Sister had moved on, Poppy saw her scrubbing at her cheeks with a hanky.
‘A sister’s word is law at all times,’ continued Sister Malcolm. ‘Never talk back, or undermine her, or – heaven help us! – a matron’s instructions, or you’ll find yourself heading straight for home on the next train. In the unlikely event that you’re allowed into a ward before your training is up . . .’
There was a murmur of disappointment from the girls.
‘What?’ said Sister in mock surprise. ‘Did you think you’d be let loose on our injured boys immediately? Did you picture yourselves setting broken bones, bandaging sore heads and saving lives?’
The girls smiled sheepishly. They all had, of course.
‘As I said, in the unlikely event that you find yourself in a ward and come face to face with an injured man, you will take your cue from the ward sister. She will understand her patient and know if he should be asleep or awake, whether she must be brisk or gentle with him, if he is able to eat or drink. You may not so much as touch a patient without her express permission. Each ward sister will have her own rules and regulations, her own way of doing things, and you must be guided by her at all times. Do you understand?’
The girls nodded solemnly.
‘Are there any questions?’
Jameson put up her hand. ‘Are there . . . will we see some terribly gruesome sights?’
‘Yes, you will,’ said Sister Malcolm. ‘Next?’
The new VADs were allocated their first tasks. Poppy and four other girls were asked to clear the top floor of the hostel of an amount of old furniture, and collect and assemble four beds ready to be occupied by new VADs. Two girls were given the task of rolling bandages; others were set variously to scrub floors in an army canteen, sterilise operating equipment at a nearby military hospital or attend their first nursing and first-aid course. Apart from the latter, these tasks were perhaps not what the girls had hoped they would be doing, but everyone tried to look willing – whilst hoping against hope that the time would go swiftly until they could begin to do what they’d joined up for: to care for injured soldiers.
Chapter Nine
Roughly halfway through Poppy’s training period, Sister Malcolm arrived earlier than usual at the hostel, looking rather anxious.
‘One of the senior sisters has got a bad bout of influenza and I’ve been asked to join a hospital train taking a large group of wounded men from the docks,’ she said. ‘An orderly will be along to
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