Call Me Sister (9 page)

‘Och, behave! It’s Ailsa.’ She had such a cheeky grin and vitality I imagined it’d be difficult for her patients to remember she’d any title other than her first name. I was also pretty sure that even if this was the case Ailsa still wouldn’t want Miss MacLeod to know that.

The lady herself had meanwhile unsteepled her hands, leant back in her chair and went for a tone of sweet reason. ‘Change is hard, I know that, but we can’t ignore it, and if it improves the lot of patients then that’s what we must work towards.’ She cleared her throat, allowing Sister Mackay’s small protests to die away, before continuing, ‘One of the reasons we have these monthly meetings is so that we can keep abreast of medical matters. Dr Duncan has kindly come along today to give us some insight into diet and how it has a real influence on health.’

Dr Duncan stood up and looked about. By the sound of feet shuffling and the air of general restlessness, he might have gathered his audience wasn’t totally engaged. I was surprised. He seemed a thoroughly decent, caring hard-working bloke and was
–
not that I was biased – an Aberdeen graduate.

‘I know you’ll want to be heading back to your homes before it gets dark,’ he said, noticing a few heads turning towards the window, ‘so let’s get cracking.’ He gave a dry laugh. ‘Funnily enough, that’s quite an apt introduction.’

He straightened his shoulders, checked his tie and gazed at something on the back wall. It must have fascinated him. He never took his gaze from it whilst he presented a case history of a man whose diet of eggs bumped up his cholesterol count until, said Dr Duncan in the voice of an undertaker, ‘He died of a heart attack.’

After he’d finished there was a brief pause, then Ailsa leant back in her chair, crossed her arms, stretched out her legs and announced to the world in general, ‘I’m not surprised that that bloke had a cardiac condition. I think he should’ve had his head examined as well. Fancy eating fourteen eggs a day!’ Raising her index finger in the air, she made a corkscrew gesture. ‘And you wouldn’t have wanted to light a match near him either.’

‘Quite,’ said the doctor, almost relaxing at the sound of laughter, ‘but you do see how too many eggs in the diet can be harmful. Sometimes it can just be too easy to use them instead of other more beneficial foods.’

Now he managed to directly address us. ‘I’m sure you’ve come across patients who fit that category?’

There was a profound silence. Apparently everybody’s patients led a dietetically perfect lifestyle.

‘So no questions, then?’ The doctor sounding relieved, got ready to leave, but then Sister Shiach stood up and in that artless, casual way she had of getting information other people might have to extract toenails to get, she said, ‘Well, just before you go, there is one and I know it affects quite a few of us here.’ She drew breath, ensuring she had an attention previously absent from the room, then continued, ‘It’s not really health-related but some of us have become rather anxious since we heard you were planning stopping us taking our dogs in our cars.’ She gave a light laugh. ‘Silly things, rumours, I know, but it would be nice for us if you could scotch this one.’

Ah! Now I saw the reason for the frosty reception. Dr Duncan obviously got the message because he went very pale. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his mouth as if to stop it from speech. He darted a look at Miss Macleod, who suddenly seemed as fascinated by the blank wall as he had previously been.

‘It’s not actually a rumour,’ he said. ‘We’re trying to encourage you all to use your own car if you have a dog. When we’ve gone to sell the County ones, we’ve found would-be buyers don’t want either the smell of dog or their hair all over the car interiors.’

‘But I need Dougie with me,’ Sister Mackay burst out, ‘he puts his paw on my arm whenever I go too fast.’

‘That’s true,’ whispered Ailsa, ‘I wouldn’t get in her car without him.’

There was a storm of protest from the dog owners but Dr Duncan, making it clear the subject was closed, headed for the door.

‘Just a moment,’ Sister Shiach’s voice, operating like a lasso, held fast the doctor. ‘If that’s the case, I’ve one more question and that is, if we haven’t got our own cars already, can we expect help to buy one?’

He sighed and nodded his head. ‘I thought you’d come up with something like that, Sister. So, yes, we can arrange a loan, but we don’t want everyone asking for one at the same time.’

‘Favourable rates?’ Sister Shiach had apparently decided to pursue the matter to a conclusion.

Miss Macleod’s voice cut in. ‘Of course. I’ll make sure of that. Now, we mustn’t hold Doctor back. He’s a busy man.’

‘As if we’re not,’ said Ailsa. Ignoring this, Miss Macleod said, ‘We’ll have a short break then move on to the next part of our meeting. I’ve decided we’ll have a little role play.’ Responding to a bigger outbreak of discontented murmurs, she came back with a forceful, ‘And I want you all to stay for that.’ Then she accompanied the doctor out of the room.

As soon as they were gone, there was a general protest about nursing versus acting but that was nothing compared to the protests of the dog owners. There was a clamour of outraged voices. Suddenly there seemed to be two on-going dramas. But what about that severed head: was that not a third?

I was determined to find out more about the missing head but couldn’t. People only wanted to speak about dogs and cars, with Sister Mackay being particularly vocal. She dabbed her eyes with a lace-trimmed hanky, as she said, ‘Look! We’re a team, my dog and I, and my patients love Dougie. They want to see him more than me.’ She sniffed and blew her nose. ‘And he’s a better tonic than any injection. Anyway, how could I afford a new car, and me so near retiring?’

Ailsa leant past me to pat her on the knee. ‘Och, Daisy, you’re always saying that but we all hope that’s ages away. Anyway, you can’t even get your work car on the Kessock Ferry ’cos that would take it out of Ross-shire. Your Munlochy patch is so close to Inverness it must be really frustrating seeing it just over the water. Why don’t you apply for a loan? You could get a wee Mini.’

‘A loan?’ Sister Mackay was horrified. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. That’s debt!’ She shuddered.

Ailsa looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe I should get a dog and then I’d qualify to buy a car. Minis are cute and easy to drive and much better than the Morris Minors.’ She pulled a face. ‘People always recognise you in them.’

Sister Shiach stood up and all talk dropped away, the group giving her the respect accorded to a good shop steward. She said, ‘Well, folks, I’m coming around to thinking that Dr Duncan’s maybe got a point, so I’d consider applying for a loan. I could do with a bigger car. Obviously I could get more into it and that would suit me a lot better,
and
I bet I’d soon pay it off.’

She wagged a metronome-like finger at Sister Mackay. ‘Now, Daisy, unless you’ve been squandering your money on the high living that the bright lights of Munlochy offer, you’re bound to have a little savings put by.’ Ignoring Daisy’s squawk of protest, she continued. ‘Just think, instead of you looking over the water, not only to Inverness but places like Ardersier and Nairn, you and Dougie could nip over and have your day off there. Think how he’d enjoy that –a change of air would do you both good. Fresh horizons. That’s great for a dog.’

It was a clever move and by the time Miss Macleod came back, people had begun to think that car ownership might after all have some merit. On the other hand, the proposed role play continued to get a lukewarm response, with a lot of people saying they needed to get their work done before it was dark and bad weather stopped them from getting home.

Miss Macleod smiled gently. ‘Uh uh.’ She shook her head. ‘We’ve got a little time left. Yes, really. You know it’s only too easy, as I keep stressing, to let professional standards slip. So you’re all going to stay and accept the fact that role play’s an ideal tool for learning.’

In the manner of somebody who might relish a spot of gladiatorial sport, she continued, ‘As we all know, a new staff member has joined us. What you mightn’t know is that Sister Macpherson’s unsure about doing health visiting without qualification. Of course, if we lived in a perfect world, all our staff members would be suitably trained when they start. But until then we have to rely on our unqualified sisters to use their common sense.’

She spread her arms wide then clapped her hands together and all but said,
Abracadabra.
Instead, she added, ‘So taking part in role play might be just the thing for giving her confidence. I think if she takes the role of a health visitor dealing with a difficult mother it could be very instructive.’ She turned her gaze on Ailsa. ‘For this to be credible we need someone around Sister Macpherson’s own age to act as her patient, so I guess that has to be you.’

Torn between resentment at the ageist remark and relief that they hadn’t been chosen, the rest of the group turned their eyes towards Ailsa, who flung her hand to her brow in a prima donna fashion. ‘Oh well, I suppose, if I must!’ She got up, slung off her coat, grabbed her scarf, and sticking out her tongue at Daisy, headed for the door. ‘I’ll need a moment or two to get in the mood.’ As she tossed her head back and left, I thought she sounded quite pleased. Maybe being classed as young, or perhaps playing at being a difficult mum, appealed.

I hadn’t expected this. Perhaps I should have guessed, but only now did I realise what Sister Shiach had meant about drama. She was pals with Miss Macleod. I bet they’d planned this long before the meeting.

My heart sank. The last time I’d done role play was with a group of fellow students in our general student nurse training days. We were supposed to be treating our ‘patient’ for an asthmatic attack. Painting our pal’s face with gentian violet to convey heart and breathing distress had seemed like a good idea at the time, as had been the cameo appearance of an enema funnel and tube. If she hadn’t escaped our caring clutches and been given a whiff of oxygen, our acting patient could easily have become a real one. Our tutors gave us a terrible row. Since then, I’d given role play a wide berth.

‘Whilst we’re waiting for Sister, has anybody any special experience they want to share?’ Miss Macleod wondered aloud. ‘It’s always interesting to hear about other people’s work.’

I was sure the severed head story would provide a welcome distraction, but the teller didn’t oblige. Instead, she said, ‘If our two colleagues are any good at acting I’ll be able to recommend them to James Robertson Justice. You know, he plays Sir Lancelot Spratt in the
Doctor
films?’

‘Oooh, yes!’

After the admiring chorus died down, she laughed. ‘Well, nobody can say our working lives are dull. I once attended him at his Spinningdale home. He made me feel as if I was on set when he breezed towards me, rubbing his hands and shouting, “Good Morning, Sister!” D’you know, I came away from there thinking I was a real film star.’

‘I’d be better pleased if it was Dr Sparrow. That Dirk Bogarde who plays him is just lovely,’ mused Daisy. ‘Och! If only I was younger.’ She started as Ailsa floated into the room. ‘Losh! That can’t be Ailsa? My goodness. She’s turned into one of yon funny folk. Hippies, I think they call them.’

Ailsa was bare-footed and wore a long, flame-coloured cardigan which swamped her dress. She’d swapped her hat for a yellow scarf, which she’d turned into a bandana.

‘She must have borrowed those from Big Susan the receptionist. She goes in for bright colours,’ Daisy noted, consulting her shoes and tapping them together approvingly, and just before she gave an affronted, ‘Well!’

Ailsa had held up two fingers. They could easily have been misconstrued if she hadn’t then waved them before her like windscreen wipers. ‘Peace, my sisters,’ she chanted. Miss Macleod had joined the rest of the audience so as Ailsa took her chair she held out a beckoning finger in my direction and pointed to Dr Duncan’s. ‘Sit down, Sister. Oh, you must!’

In the manner of a respectful caller, I did, whilst she continued in a voice so breathless you’d have thought she’d run up three flights of stairs. ‘Thanks so for visiting. I’ve actually been expecting you to call for a few days now. How nice you’ve managed it – eventually. Of course, I’d heard you’ve just arrived and it’s quite wonderful to see such a young face.’ She leant and said in a stage whisper, ‘Being new to any community can be lonely but I’m actually given to understand you’ve not been quite alone.’ She gave an exaggerated wink.

I didn’t need to be an actress to look perplexed and settled for clearing my throat. What was she on about?

Ailsa was happy to elaborate. ‘Ha ha! I hear my neighbours talking about seeing a man’s underwear on your washing line but,’ she said, patting her front proudly, ‘I personally salute you for braving the gossips.’

Planning to kill Ailsa afterwards and noting that my house, even if it was in a cul-de-sac in a small village, didn’t guarantee privacy, I managed an even tone. ‘Yes. I’ve found that’s the wonderful thing about living in a community. Everybody takes a great interest in each other. I think it’s because they care.’

Ailsa bent her head as if to pick a thread off the bottom of her cardigan. ‘Fifteen all,’ she muttered. Then, straightening up, she gushed, ‘Oh, Sister, I so agree. Peace and harmony’s so important.’ She drew breath, then went on, ‘Now I realise you’ve been so busy settling in you haven’t
made
the time to visit little old me, but I have actually been rather anxious to get some help. This being my first little cherubeee and all.’ She clasped her head and bent low as if in pain.

Ailsa’s sudden imitation of distress could have won her an Oscar. I leant forward and covered her hand. ‘I know new babies bring a whole change of lifestyle, but is there a particular problem?’

‘It’s the…’ She put her hand to her mouth as if to tell a secret but actually magnified her voice. It made the sound bounce off the walls. ‘Sex! My husband’s most insistent.’

I nearly asked her to repeat herself but thought better of it. A small ripple of disapproving ‘tuts’ swept the room. It was obvious from everybody’s rapt attention that they had all heard her complaint and by the way they were all craning forward, wanted to hear more.