House of Doors by Chaz Brenchley Page A

It’s supposed to be reserved for Major Black’s boys, except on special occasions, but of course they exploit the privilege. And their senior officers connive with them –’ her eyes finding out Aesculapius, Major Dorian, who had been away for the day and come in and not even shrugged off his overcoat before he joined the communal singing – ‘so of course everyone takes advantage, as soon as they can shuffle from the ward to the piano. That seems to be the major’s definition.’
    Which major, and his definition of what? Who is Major Black, if he’s not the surgeon and not the psychiatrist? What goes on behind those doors there, in the central block of the house?
    Her mind was abuzz with questions, her tongue tripped over them. She was too slow with any. The squadron leader squawked across the table: ‘Matron, you know we love you and fear you and would do anything to please you—’
    â€˜Just so long as I don’t come between you and your beer, am I right?’
    â€˜Of course. But I’m drinking tea today, just so that I can sit with you.’
    â€˜Young man, you are drinking tea today because your friends have heard your singing voice and they won’t let you join in. How naive do you imagine that I am?’
    He smiled down at his plate, glanced sidewise at her, didn’t answer. She snorted, and turned back to Ruth.
    Who managed, if not quite a question, at least a step towards one.
    â€˜I don’t believe I’ve met Major Black yet.’
    â€˜No, likely not. He doesn’t trouble himself much with the nursing staff. He’s not interested until a boy’s ready to leave my side.’
    Any hospital was an exercise in territory and hierarchies, just as the military was. Even so, this place was beginning to remind Ruth of nothing so much as a boys’ boarding school. At least as far as she understood them, from the stories of Kipling and Tom Brown’s Schooldays and what Peter had told her of his own.
    Matron kept her patients as long as she could, and then handed them over – reluctantly – to this Major Black, for whatever purposes he had in mind. With Major Dorian’s clear consent, indeed, with his collusion. There was more to it than beer and a sing-song. She glowered at the piano troupe, and found herself once again eye to eye with Aesculapius, across that gulf; and blushed, and turned her head away, back to Matron’s bird-bright gaze.
    â€˜When may I see the wards?’ It was nothing but defiance, to declare her proper loyalty. I belong on your side.
    â€˜After tea. You can join the colonel on his rounds, meet your patients at last.’ Mine , her voice declared, until I have to let them go. ‘No more than that, mind, I’m not having you on the duty roster until tomorrow. You’ve come a long way, and that little sleep won’t be enough to set you up for the work you have ahead. Especially if you don’t eat. You haven’t touched your cake. I won’t let you lift a hand, you know, until I’m satisfied that you’re ready.’
    Ruth gazed down in mild startlement at the slab of dense sticky gingerbread set before her. ‘I, I’m sorry, Matron. You know, I can’t quite remember the last time I saw a cake like this?’
    In truth she had lost the habit of cake, almost the habit of eating. Except what was necessary, enough to keep her going from one day to the next, not to be a nuisance or make an exhibit of herself.
    She thought the little tyrant on her right was not fooled for a moment. What she heard was a snort, and, ‘Well, it’ll do you no good looking at it. I want to see a clean plate, my girl,’ for all the world as though she was herself back at school again, a gawky adolescent with too much else on her mind to worry about the minor things like keeping body and soul together.
    â€˜Yes, Matron.’ Meekly, not to be a nuisance. Picking up