The Hive (22 page)

Beside her, Daphne’s voice came harshly, and unexpectedly. ‘I thought the subject we were discussing was loyalty.’

‘So we are,’ Dolly said. ‘Loyalty to friends and the place we work in. Now we know that Matron thinks that the loyalty between
friends
—comes before loyalty to the place in which they
work——’

‘Oh, no, Sister. I did
not
say that. I merely said that I saw no evil in close friendships of the sort we were discussing.’

‘I don’t think this aspect of the subject will get us very much nearer to helping the nurses we have to be happy,’ Swinton said, ‘And that was supposed to be the reason for these discussions, wasn’t it? Can’t we talk about the student nurses? It seems to me that some of them may suffer from a split loyalty—the one they have to the tutor in the school, and the one they have to us, as ward sisters. As I see it, there isn’t enough liaison between what they learn in the school, and what we teach them on the ward—when we have time to teach, that is——’

Gratefully, Mary Cotton seized on Swinton’s lead, and began to talk about the way she and the midwifery tutor dealt with this problem, and she and Swinton and Elizabeth carried the talk from there on.

Dolly said no more. She leaned back in her chair, watching Daphne and Susan, both of whom were also silent.

‘She knows, and about time too,’ Dolly thought. ‘Will she finish with Cooper? And will Cooper start anything? As long as it stays inside the hospital, whatever happens, it’ll be all right. As long as only the Board get to know, it won’t matter. Jamieson. If I tell him that there are some queers among the sisters, and that Manton knows and doesn’t intend to do anything about it, will he see it the right way? It’ll depend on what Cooper does—and how I tell him. It ought to work—it’s got to work——’

Elizabeth left the meeting first, as usual, and for a moment, Swinton wanted to follow her, to warn her that Dolly was planning something. She didn’t know what it was, but she had seen the way she had looked at Daphne and Susan, had listened carefully to Dolly’s questions, and recognised the manipulation behind them. I don’t suppose Manton’s realised they’re lesbians, any more than Phillips has. Should I tell her? Tattling again. Swinton shrugged slightly. I’ve done enough damage with Arthur, she thought bleakly. Let it go, woman, keep out of it. And what can Dolly do, anyway? How can it
help her get what she wants to stir up Cooper and Phillips? She can’t do any harm, really, can she? Let it go——

Dolly sat in her room, listening. Cooper and Phillips had been just behind her as they came up the stairs to the sisters’ corridor, and she sat very still and rigid with the effort of listening.

‘Coffee, Pip?’ Daphne’s voice came clearly from beyond the closed door.

‘Not tonight, thanks, Daph. I’m—I’ve a bit of a headache. I’ll go straight to bed, I think—see you at breakfast.’ Phillips’ voice sounded strained, Dolly thought, or is it just that I want it to be? I hope I haven’t gone too far, but I had to do something. Will Jamieson see it my way? He as good as told me he’d like to see me get it when I applied. Will he see it my way?

She heard Phillips’ footsteps along the corridor, and then heard Daphne’s door open and close. There was a long pause, and then, Daphne’s door opened again, and Dolly heard her footsteps follow Phillips along the corridor.

She relaxed. Then, methodically she collected her sponge bag and nightclothes, and a book, and went down the corridor for a bath. I’ll talk to Jamieson tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow.

Daphne came into the room quietly, and stood leaning against the door, looking down at Susan who was sitting on her bed, still in her uniform, having made no attempt at all to undress.

She jumped a little and stood up.

‘Oh, hello, Daphne. Just wondering whether to take a bath, or whether I’m too tired. I could get up early and have one tomorrow, I suppose, but you know how hard it is to keep good resolutions like that—but I have got such a headache. Just tired, I suppose. All that noise in O.P.D.—it does get me down sometimes——’

Daphne sat down on the bed, and watched her as she began to unpin her apron, smoothing it out and folding it with pernickety care before putting it in the soiled linen box at the
foot of the bed.

‘You’re just jabbering, Pip. You haven’t a headache—though you will have one if you go on like this,’ she said softly.

Susan turned to her mirror, and began to pat at her hair, and peer at herself, but her hands were shaking, and she turned away, and started to fiddle with her sponge bag.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, and her voice was high and thin. ‘Why should I say I have a headache when I haven’t? Really, I
am
tired. I’d rather like to go to bed, if you don’t mind——’

Daphne had brought a bottle of gin and another of orange squash with her, each with a glass over its neck, and not looking at Susan, began to pour out two large drinks.

‘I think you do, Pip. East said something that—frightened you. And you’re working yourself up into a state over it. If you have got a headache, that’s why. Here, have a drink, and then we can talk.’ She held out a glass invitingly but Susan remained by her washbasin, refusing to look at her.

Daphne carefully set down the glasses on the bedside table, and then, with a purposeful movement turned back towards the younger woman, who was still standing twisting the strings of her sponge bag.

‘Come on, Pip. We’ll have to talk about it. Say what it is, and it’s never so bad, is it?’

Susan shook her head, mutely.

‘Damn it all, I warned you, didn’t I?’ Daphne sounded angry suddenly. ‘Didn’t I? I said it wasn’t always a good thing to talk too much about some things, but you wanted to go to these bloody discussions, so we did. I thought perhaps you might even have—some sort of idea about it yourself. And then I thought, No, not my Pip. She’s so honest and transparent, I’d know. So I didn’t think about it again. And they have been a giggle, haven’t they, the other discussions? That Cramm thing was funny, wasn’t it? It served us right, I suppose, laughing at poor old Jo. It’s not so funny when it happens to you——’

Susan looked up then, and her face was piteous, her jaw trembling so that she could hardly speak.

‘You’ve known all along—all along—I’m—what they said
—we—what they said—it’s horrible——’ She began to cry, the tears rolling cut of her eyes as easily as a child’s.

‘Oh, don’t—Pip, honey, don’t——’ Daphne moved swiftly across the room towards her, but Susan shrank back against the basin, shaking her head, almost in a panic.

‘Go away—go away! I can’t bear—go
away
——’

‘Don’t be such a goose!’ Daphne said softly, and gently put an arm round her, and pulled her towards the bed, to sit her down firmly.

‘Here. Drink this. And calm down. And when you have, we can talk intelligently about all this silly fuss—come on now——’

She held the glass of gin and orange to Susan’s lips, and she swallowed, forced to by the pressure of the glass. Then, she took it, and began to drink, her head down.

Daphne stood quietly beside her, her own untasted drink in her hands, and when Susan had finished, exchanged their glasses, putting the full one into her unresisting hands.

‘I’m just a fool,’ Susan said dully. ‘Just a fool. I thought we were just friends, good friends. Mummy thinks you’re a good friend to me—she’s glad we’ve got each other here, she says, and all the time, you knew, you knew I was like that—and that you are too—you knew——’ Her voice began to rise tearfully.

‘Be quiet!’ Daphne said sharply. ‘And drink that. Do you want the whole bloody Home in here? Just be quiet for a minute or two and calm down——’

Susan drank the second glassful, and after a while, shook her head muzzily, and dropped sideways on to the bed. Gently, Daphne took the empty glass from her, and lifted her legs on to the counterpane. Susan lay still, her eyes closed, tears drying on her thin cheeks.

‘That’s better,’ Daphne said softly. ‘Much better. Now, let’s talk sensibly. Can you be sensible and calm now?’

Susan made a small movement of her head, her eyes moving behind her closed lids.

‘All right. Now, what’s happened? Nothing. East decided to talk about a man she had in who was homosexual——’ Susan moved her head fretfully on the pillow, and Daphne put out a
hand gently, to rest it on her forehead.

‘—a man who was homosexual. And she suggested that some other people might have friendships of the same sort. And now you’re upset because you’ve suddenly realised that might be the case with us——’

‘Don’t—oh, Daph, please don’t——’ Susan opened her eyes momentarily, and then turned her head away from the hand on her forehead, closing her eyes again. ‘It’s too horrible——’

‘But why, Pip, why?’ Daphne’s voice was very soft now, very gentle. ‘What does it change? We’re still the same people as we always were. What’s the difference? All right—maybe we do—care more for each other than is usual. Is that so dreadful? Isn’t it rather a nice thing, lucky for us? You always said that, didn’t you? Lucky us. Poor everyone else, no friends like we’ve got. Isn’t it just the same—still just the same?’

Susan lay very still for a moment, and then turned her head and looked up at Daphne. The light behind her threw her face into shadow, and in the muzzy state distress and gin had caused, she seemed to Susan to have a nimbus of light round her head.

‘What shall we do, Daph?’ she said, whimpering the words. ‘What shall we do? I thought it was so lovely, the way we were, and now she’s made it all horrible—so horrible—made it into something dirty——’

‘No, love,’ Daphne said. ‘No one could do that, not even East. There’s nothing dirty about loving someone, is there? Not like—oh, Arthur. She’s dirty, if you like—no love ever comes into her talk, or what she does. But we—we do love each other, don’t we?’ and there was an appeal in her voice.

‘It—I don’t know. It’s—the wrong word for us to use. We’re the——I mean, we’re girls. It’s wrong—all wrong——’ Susan rolled her head on the pillow, and closed her eyes again. ‘I feel so awful—awful—my head really does ache, Daph, honestly it does——’

‘The light hurts your eyes——’ Daphne leaned over and switched it off, so that only the light from the courtyard outside coming in through the big half-curtained window illuminated the room.

‘There—that’s better, isn’t it? Yes, of course it is. Look,
let me undo your collar for you—you’ll feel much more comfortable——’

She opened the stud that held Susan’s collar, and then undid the tight waistband of her dress, and Susan stirred, and moaned a little.

Daphne moved closer, and began to stroke her head gently. ‘It’s all right, honey, it’s all right. You’ll see. It doesn’t matter one bit. We love each other, and that’s a wonderful thing, not a bad one. It won’t change anything, now you know, really understand. Why should it? It may even make it better—you’ll see——’

Susan moved convulsively, and then gripped Daphne’s hand hard, looking up at her in the darkness, peering at her.

‘Is it all right, Daph, really? Isn’t it bad, honestly not bad? Did you always know, did you, and didn’t you mind—for yourself I mean—didn’t you mind——?’

‘Of course I didn’t mind—and I’ve always known——’ Daphne stroked her cheek, so that the other relaxed, and lay staring up at her, her eyes gleaming wide in the dimness. ‘Ever since I was—oh, a kid—I’ve known I was—well, a bit different to the girls I knew—always rushing about looking for boys, like Arthur—and they made me sick, really they did. They seemed to me to be—dirty—I knew I wasn’t, you see. And I always knew that I’d find someone like you one day, someone I could love, who’d love me—you do love me, don’t you, Pip?’

Susan whimpered again, moving away from her, and then closer.

‘I don’t know—I don’t know—oh, Daph, I feel so awful—so tired—I want to go to sleep——’ And she began to cry again, like a baby, moaning and sniffing, rolling her muzzy head on the pillow.

‘Come on,’ Daphne said softly. ‘Bed for you, lovey——’ And she began to undress Susan, helping her into her nightdress, coaxing her gently.

She pulled the bedclothes back, and helped her in, and Susan gripped her hands hard, and pulled her towards her.

‘I’m so cold, Daph—so cold—I do feel so dreadful—I had too much gin, I think—so cold—don’t go away, Daph, please
don’t—stay with me, please——’

Daphne stood very still, looking down on her, where she had fallen back against her pillows.

‘Are you sure you want me to stay, Pip? Quite sure?’

‘I’m not sure about anything——’ Susan began to cry again. ‘I don’t understand—I don’t understand—you do, Daph, don’t you—you do——? Don’t go away—please—make me warm again—I’m so cold——’

‘Oh, God——’ Daphne whispered. ‘Oh, God——’

‘Daph——’ Susan said again. ‘Daph?’

‘I—shall I come into bed with you—warm you like that?’ Daphne said after a moment.

Susan nodded against the pillow. ‘Mmm. Make me warm, Daph. I’m so cold, and I’m frightened——’

‘There—there——’ Daphne said, and moving quickly, undressed, letting her clothes fall to the floor. ‘It’s all right, Pip, it’s all right——’

Softly, she slid into the bed beside the weeping Susan, and like a kitten, she curled herself up in the circle of Daphne’s arms, and Daphne held her close, stroking her shoulder with one hand, as she lay and stared at the blank square of window with it’s pattern of light shining through the trees outside. She stroked the bony shoulder under her hand until Susan fell into a light restless sleep. She was still awake when Susan stirred and murmured, and put her arms round Daphne’s neck.

Susan woke abruptly. She was stiff and uncomfortable, and as she tried to move, she felt Daphne’s warm gentle breathing body beside her. And then she remembered, with a wave of sick shock filling her like a tangible thing.

She stared at the dark head so close on the pillow, and tried to remember properly. Had it happened, that re-awakening, the murmuring between them in the darkness, or had she dreamed it? But Daphne was there, really there, breathing softly, her face blank in sleep.

She moved away from her in the narrow bed, and lay still again, carefully not allowing her body to touch Daphne’s anywhere, pressing herself against the wall, keeping rigidly still.