Break of Dawn (20 page)

Patience sat on the edge of her bed, the letter dangling in her fingers and tears in her eyes. Sophy was alive and safe. It had been over eighteen months since that snowy morning when her cousin had left, and many times since she had feared the worst, especially as month after month had gone by without a word. But she was safe and happy, although beyond that Sophy had said very little and there was no address on the letter. She read it through again, slowly this time:

Patience carefully folded the single sheet of paper back into the envelope before slipping it in her handbag, and then walked across to the window where she gazed out over the garden and drive. It was a sunny morning and the sunlight glancing over the grounds gave a tranquillity and beauty to the day. She drank it in, drawing strength from the birdsong and blue sky. And she would need strength in the coming hour, she thought grimly, when she faced her mother.

Her mother . . . Patience’s thin mouth tightened into a line. How had her father put up with her all these years? Oh, she knew he wasn’t perfect, far from it, but compared to her mother . . . In the space of the last eighteen months her mother had caused Sophy to run away to goodness knows where, and made life so impossible for John and Matthew when they wouldn’t give up their girls that they now resided together in a small flat over a butcher’s shop in Bishopwearmouth – the rent of which they could ill-afford as both were saving to get married. Even David saw to it that he was invited to his pals’ homes over the hols whenever he could so he was rarely at the vicarage. And she had been left living at home, if you could call the four walls within which a silent war was played out day after day, ‘home’. But no more.

Patience dried her face with her handkerchief and straightened her narrow shoulders. Today she was going to do something that would almost certainly result in the doors of the vicarage being closed to her for ever, and she couldn’t wait. She had the rest of her life in front of her and she didn’t intend to waste it. The seed of rebellion against her lot which had been planted the day Sophy had left, had come to flower. It was strange that she had received Sophy’s letter this morning of all mornings, in view of what she intended to do – but she would take it as a positive sign. She was
glad the letter had come by first post, which meant that Molly had brought it to her with an early morning cup of tea. It meant her mother knew nothing about it.

She glanced at her trunk packed full with all of the clothes and belongings she wanted to take with her, and her stomach fluttered, whether out of excitement or the thought of the ordeal ahead, she didn’t know. She had arranged for the cab to call at nine-thirty after breakfast and it was now ten past eight. Morning prayers would begin in the drawing room at eight-fifteen and last for exactly fifteen minutes. As a child she hadn’t minded the daily prayers; in fact, she had found them comforting. It seemed right to start the day by asking God to oversee it. But now this ritual grated on her as the height of hypocrisy. Her parents couldn’t stand the sight of each other and yet they sat there in front of the servants every morning as pious and righteous as they came. However, from today she wouldn’t have to endure that any more, along with many other things which regularly got under her skin.

Patience checked that everything was in order before leaving the room. She intended to break her news during breakfast, and if her mother reacted as she expected, she would have no time to do more than collect her trunk and handbag and leave.

When she entered the drawing room, Mrs Hogarth and Molly were already standing with their heads bowed, her mother was regally seated on one of the sofas with her eyes closed, and her father was droning on as usual. She was two minutes late. Heresy, as the swift piercing glance her mother gave her confirmed. Patience sat down but she didn’t shut her eyes. Instead she glanced round the room she knew she was seeing for the last time, looking at the old familiar surroundings with a total lack of sentiment.

She had been happy in this house until the day her mother had whipped Sophy to within an inch of her life, but everything had changed from that point. It wouldn’t be too extreme to say her eyes had been opened and she hadn’t liked what she had seen, nor the person she herself had been then. And going away to school had driven home the fact that she was in grave danger of becoming her mother’s daughter in every sense of the word. She knew she
could be bossy and overbearing, ‘a little prig’, one of the girls in her dormitory had called her, but it was the narrowness of her vision which had alarmed her more than anything else. She had been so entrenched in her mother’s way of thinking and doing things that she hadn’t considered it could be wrong.

It had been a painful awakening. She nodded inwardly to the thought. But necessary. And now she thanked God for it, oh, she did.

She glanced at her father and not for the first time felt amazement that he could have come from the same parents as Sophy’s mother. She wondered who Sophy’s mother had taken after. The great-grandparents perhaps? Or maybe a free spirit reared its head in every family now and again? One thing was for sure, black sheep were never discussed or acknowledged, and all trace of them was effectively covered over.

When the prayers finished, Patience realised she hadn’t heard a word of them. Mrs Hogarth and Molly trooped out, and she and her mother and father made their way to the dining room.

She found it enormously difficult to eat anything but forced down a few mouthfuls of porridge before buttering one of the soft rolls Mrs Hogarth made fresh every morning. Mrs Hogarth’s cooking wasn’t a patch on the meals Kitty had produced, but at least her bread was nice, Patience thought.

Her parents had started on their eggs and ham when Patience spoke. The meal had been conducted in total silence before then. ‘I have some news.’

Her father raised his head but her mother continued eating.

Patience took a deep breath. ‘I have been accepted as a nurse at the Sunderland Infirmary and I begin my training tomorrow. Probationer Nurses are provided with board and lodging and most of their uniform as part of their remuneration so I will be living at the hospital for the next three years until I obtain my nursing certificate. Of course, I can visit you on my half-day off once a week if you wish me to.’

If she had taken all her clothes off and danced stark-naked on the table she couldn’t have shocked them more. Her father stared
at her, his mouth slightly agape as he visibly tried to take in what she had announced, but it was Mary who sprang up, her chair falling backwards, as she cried, ‘Never! I forbid it, do you hear me? Isn’t it enough that your elder brothers have disgraced us without you attempting to do the same?’

Patience sat very still. ‘John and Matthew are working hard and doing well at their respective jobs,’ she said quietly, ‘and their young ladies are pleasant, respectable girls. I see no reason for disgrace in any of that. As for me, my mind is made up. It has been for some time.’

‘This is what comes from allowing her to demean herself working voluntarily at that dreadful Eye Infirmary in Stockton Road.’ Mary had swung round to face her husband, her thin face flushed with temper. ‘I told you no good would come of it, but you wouldn’t have it. You could have been involved in all kinds of good works without coming into contact with sick people,’ she bit out to Patience. ‘It’s not right for a young unmarried girl to see such things. But to get paid for it, to
work
. I shall never be able to hold up my head again. I won’t have it, Patience. I mean it.’

‘And
I
mean it, Mother. And you’re quite right, the valuable experience I’ve gained at the Eye Infirmary has made up my mind where I see my future. I’m not squeamish and medicine fascinates me, moreover I’ve a natural affinity with the patients – everyone says so.’

‘At the infirmary? But of course they would, girl. Cheap labour, they’ll butter you up all they can.’

Patience stood up, white-faced. ‘It was the head doctor who said it and he is not in the habit of “buttering up” anyone, believe me.’

‘Is your mind made up?’ Jeremiah entered the exchange. ‘Are you absolutely sure it’s what you want to do, Patience, because it will mean hard, relentless work, day in and day out. There’s nothing romantic about nursing. You will be cleaning bedpans and giving bed-baths and seeing sights that will turn your stomach, and all for a pittance, remember that. It will be nothing like the voluntary work you’ve been doing. Are you prepared for that?’

‘Of course she isn’t, the stupid girl.’ Mary was beside herself. ‘Tell her! Tell her it’s ridiculous.’

‘Patience?’ Jeremiah spoke over his wife.

‘I know what I’m doing, Father. They were very explicit about all that at the interview. A full day’s duty is ten and a half hours, more on occasion when emergencies dictate. On top of that we have to fit study in, and be prepared to work night duty one week in three. The wages are small, I agree, but to some extent I’m not doing it for the money although of course I need to earn enough to live.’

There was a snort from Mary which Patience, like her father, ignored.

‘It was explained that a number of girls leave in the first twelve months, and of those who make it through to the close of the period of training, they must receive the approbation of the Matron as to their general conduct and efficiency. The Matron reports this to the physicians and surgeons, and the certificate is graded accordingly. From what has been explained to us, I understand this can be “fairly satisfactory” or “satisfactory” or “highly satisfactory”, which can make a difference to one’s future prospects. But I won’t leave in the first little while and neither will I be fairly satisfactory or satisfactory. I promise you that.’

Jeremiah surveyed the daughter he had never particularly liked or understood until the last twelve months when she had amazed him by sticking resolutely to the voluntary work she had undertaken. He knew the Chief Physician at the Eye Infirmary – they were both members of the Gentlemen’s Club – and the man had taken the trouble to seek him out on more than one occasion with glowing reports about Patience. He had once thought Patience to be the image of her mother in character as well as appearance. He had been wrong. At the bottom of him he didn’t like the thought of a daughter of his joining what he considered to be a lowly profession more suited to the working class, but he sensed that if he said that now, he would lose her for good.

He smiled at her. ‘I look forward to seeing the “highly satisfactory” in three years’ time, my dear.’

He saw her blink and knew he had surprised her, but then Mary
let fly with a tirade worthy of a fishwife, and as Patience slipped out of the room he took the full force of his wife’s fury. Not for the first time – and he doubted it would be the last.

It was twenty minutes later when Patience left the house, her mother’s last words, ‘From this moment in time I have no daughter,’ ringing in her ears. But it was her father who carried her trunk to the cab waiting on the drive – the horse munching on a carrot the driver had given it – who softened the leave-taking.

‘I would like to say your mother will come round in time, but we both know that’s not true.’ Jeremiah helped Patience up into the carriage and when she was seated, pressed some pound notes into her hand. As she made to protest, he closed her fingers over the money. ‘Please, it will smooth the way,’ he said softly, much as she had said to Sophy eighteen months before. ‘And I would like to see you sometimes on your half-day, if you agree? We could perhaps take tea together or a stroll in the park if the weather’s clement.’

‘I would like that, Father.’ Patience hadn’t expected to feel anything but relief as the driver clicked to the horse and they began to move down the drive, but as she leaned out of the window to wave to her father, she felt a moment’s sharp pain in her heart at the sight of him standing alone outside the vicarage. He looked small and lost and suddenly older, much older than his years. And then the horse turned into the lane and the high hedge hid her father and the house from sight, and she settled back in her seat, excitement filling her once more.

She had done it, she had escaped the soul-destroying boredom which would have been her lot if she had stayed, and she didn’t mind how hard she worked or what she did from now on, but one day she was going to be a fully qualified nurse. All things were possible, if you only believed.

The next few days were bewildering, frightening, demoralising and exhausting. Patience discovered her father had been right when he had intimated that a Probationary Nurse at the Sunderland Infirmary was treated quite differently to a volunteer at the Eye Infirmary. But every time she wondered if she had bitten off more than she
could chew, she reread Sophy’s letter, telling herself it had been no coincidence that it had arrived on the very day she had left the vicarage for good. Sophy had taken the bull by the horns and made a new life for herself, and she could do it too. And however difficult it was, Patience knew this was the right path.

The Probationer Nurses had been given a list of the lectures they had to attend in the next three months, a list of their day and night duties, a list of the papers they had to submit at the end of each three-month period, a list detailing all the wards and rooms at the hospital along with a plan of the building, and a list spelling out the timetable they were required to follow, set out as follows: