Corridors of the Night Read Free

them enjoy the idea of hope, for however long it might last.
    It was still very early. The sky was paling at last and she needed to return to the ward where she was on duty.
    ‘Let Charlie sleep,’ she told Maggie. ‘And keep on giving him water when he’ll take it, but don’t waken him specially. And don’t forget to drink yourself. If he’ll take breakfast, then help him, but don’t insist. And all the rest of you must eat as well. Do you understand?’
    ‘Yes, miss,’ Maggie said earnestly. ‘You’ll come back, won’t yer?’ Now there was fear back in her eyes again.
    ‘Of course,’ Hester promised, but wondered how she was going to keep to it. As soon as Dr Magnus arrived she must see him. That meant staying longer than she had meant to, but her own family would simply have to understand.
    Nurse O’Neill met her the moment she was through the door of her own ward. She was an imposing woman, young and quite handsome in an individual way. Now she was angry and made no attempt to conceal it.
    ‘What on earth are you thinking of?’ she demanded, hands on her hips. Her fairish hair was coming out of its pins and she looked exhausted. Her sleeves were rolled up crookedly and there were stains of blood and spilled water over her white apron front. ‘There’s only been me and Mary Ann here! They don’t pay you to sneak off and find somewhere to go to sleep! I don’t care what you did all day; you’re meant to be here and on duty all night, just like the rest of us.’
    Hester’s heart sank. She knew what was the matter with Sherryl O’Neill. She expected to lose patients – this was a ward of desperately ill men – but she still could not bear it. Each death was a defeat and she took it personally.
    ‘We lost Hodgkins,’ Hester said quietly, assuming the worst. ‘I’m sorry . . .’
    ‘No we didn’t!’ Sherryl blinked furiously but the tears ran down her cheeks anyway. ‘He’s still alive. God knows how. No thanks to you.’
    Hester waited, confused.
    ‘Wilton,’ Sherryl filled in the silence. ‘He took a sudden turn for the worse and there was nothing I could do. You should have been here!’ Again the accusation was harsh.
    Hester understood. Unexpected loss cut especially deep. It made you realise all over again how little control you had. Victory could turn to defeat in an instant. They had all felt certain that Wilton was recovering.
    ‘What happened?’ she asked, dreading the answer.
    Sherryl’s voice was harsh, as if her throat were so tight she could barely force the words out.
    ‘What didn’t? He was in awful pain, first in his back, then down his sides, and tops of his legs. He was chilling one minute and feverish the next. His urine was full of blood.’ She stared at Hester as if she were still desperate for some kind of help.
    ‘I didn’t know what to do,’ Sherryl went on. ‘He was in agony worse than his wounds, and terrified. I was useless. He was dying and I couldn’t think of anything to do for him. He was faint. Some parts of him went absolutely white, as if there were no blood inside him. Others were dark red and, strong man as he was, he wept with the pain of it. God in heaven, that’s not a way for anybody to die!’ Now the tears ran unashamedly down her cheeks. ‘Why the hell weren’t you there?’ she said furiously.
    Hester knew this was anger at helplessness, at pain, and death. They were the tears of exhaustion, and the need not to be alone.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Hester said quietly. ‘I was with another patient. A child. I told Mary Ann.’
    ‘She’s no damn use!’ Sherryl said desperately. ‘She thought Wilton was going to live, after Dr Rand took him away for treatment yesterday. He . . . he was so full of hope when he came back.’ She stopped abruptly, unable to keep her self-control any longer.
    ‘Did you know there was a children’s ward here?’ Hester asked, wondering even as she spoke if she was wise to mention it.
    Sherryl’s eyes