Read Online One Young Fool in Dorset by Victoria Twead - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Victoria Twead
Ads: Link
three
days!”
Suddenly the prospect of the operation didn’t seem
quite so daunting. I was admitted to the hospital and my parents
drove away. Parents were not allowed to stick around in those
days.
The hospital was built in 1907, and was largely
demolished in the 1960s to make way for a new hospital of 500 beds.
However, the Children’s Ward was still housed in an old wing. The
ceilings were high and the floors were bare. Even the slightest
noise echoed.
Sure enough, after my operation, the nurses offered
me ice cream. I had ice cream every day, sometimes with jelly. On
the third day I was feeling much better and becoming accustomed to
the hospital routine. In the evening, the radio and all the lights
were switched off, and a night nurse sat working at a desk in the
centre of the ward, a single lamp illuminating her. The ward was
silent. The night nurse occasionally stood, yawned, and walked
round the beds, shining a torch on each sleeping child in turn.
“Aren’t you asleep yet?” she whispered when she
reached me.
I shook my head.
“Not yet,” I whispered back.
Suddenly, a female scream ripped through the
night.
“ Aaaaaaagh!”
The night nurse and I froze in shock, our mouths
agape. What was happening? The scream wasn’t coming from our ward,
but from somewhere along the corridor, and it was getting
closer.
“ Aaaaaaagh!”
The night nurse’s hand tightened on her torch. She
trembled as she turned on her heel and trained the beam on the
closed ward door, just as it burst open.
“ Aaaaaaagh!” screamed a nurse as she ran into
the ward towards us. “Bats! BATS! The place is alive with
bats!”
The night nurse dropped her torch and jumped into my
bed, pulling the blanket over her head. The screaming nurse ran for
the door again, slamming it shut behind her.
I stood by my bed and looked up. Two or three bats
were flitting high up in the rafters. They didn’t scare me at
all.
A muffled voice emerged from the depths of my
bed.
“Have they gone?”
“The other nurse has gone,” I said. “But the bats
are still here. They are very high up. They won’t hurt you, you
know.”
The night nurse’s face peeped out from under my
bedclothes, her face as white as my sheets.
“You stay here,” she said at last. “I’m going to get
help.”
With as much dignity as she could muster with a
hospital blanket over her head, the nurse strode to the door and
let herself out. I was alone with the bats and a ward full of
sleeping children.
A caretaker came in next, armed with a big net. I
watched, fascinated, as he attempted to catch the bats. He failed,
but successfully shooed the little creatures out of the ward and
into the corridor. The night nurse returned, smoothing down her
apron and pushing escaped tendrils of hair back into her cap.
“Still not asleep?” she whispered. “Let me sort your
bed out for you.”
She replaced my blanket and I snuggled down, tired
now. None of the other children had wakened. I closed my eyes and
slept. My dreams were filled with bats and country dancing.
I learned later that a colony of bats had inhabited
the old hospital. They had been disturbed by the ongoing demolition
works, and some had entered the hospital, visiting several wards,
including ours. I hoped that they moved on without too much trauma
and found a safe new home.
It was also time for me to move on. I never saw Mrs
Pellow, Nigel Harding or Dorchester Preparatory School again. I
would now move on to Talbot Heath (TH), following in my big
sister’s footsteps. I only hoped that Enid Blyton had been telling
the truth about boarding school life.
* * *
School Report
Reading: Victoria reads
well although shyness holds her back.
Writing: Careless, although
she has a good command of words.
Written Composition: Victoria enjoys this and has made progress.
Mathematics: Has the
impression that this subject is too difficult for her.
What a pity Victoria wastes so much time
because she has ample ability.
days!”
Suddenly the prospect of the operation didn’t seem
quite so daunting. I was admitted to the hospital and my parents
drove away. Parents were not allowed to stick around in those
days.
The hospital was built in 1907, and was largely
demolished in the 1960s to make way for a new hospital of 500 beds.
However, the Children’s Ward was still housed in an old wing. The
ceilings were high and the floors were bare. Even the slightest
noise echoed.
Sure enough, after my operation, the nurses offered
me ice cream. I had ice cream every day, sometimes with jelly. On
the third day I was feeling much better and becoming accustomed to
the hospital routine. In the evening, the radio and all the lights
were switched off, and a night nurse sat working at a desk in the
centre of the ward, a single lamp illuminating her. The ward was
silent. The night nurse occasionally stood, yawned, and walked
round the beds, shining a torch on each sleeping child in turn.
“Aren’t you asleep yet?” she whispered when she
reached me.
I shook my head.
“Not yet,” I whispered back.
Suddenly, a female scream ripped through the
night.
“ Aaaaaaagh!”
The night nurse and I froze in shock, our mouths
agape. What was happening? The scream wasn’t coming from our ward,
but from somewhere along the corridor, and it was getting
closer.
“ Aaaaaaagh!”
The night nurse’s hand tightened on her torch. She
trembled as she turned on her heel and trained the beam on the
closed ward door, just as it burst open.
“ Aaaaaaagh!” screamed a nurse as she ran into
the ward towards us. “Bats! BATS! The place is alive with
bats!”
The night nurse dropped her torch and jumped into my
bed, pulling the blanket over her head. The screaming nurse ran for
the door again, slamming it shut behind her.
I stood by my bed and looked up. Two or three bats
were flitting high up in the rafters. They didn’t scare me at
all.
A muffled voice emerged from the depths of my
bed.
“Have they gone?”
“The other nurse has gone,” I said. “But the bats
are still here. They are very high up. They won’t hurt you, you
know.”
The night nurse’s face peeped out from under my
bedclothes, her face as white as my sheets.
“You stay here,” she said at last. “I’m going to get
help.”
With as much dignity as she could muster with a
hospital blanket over her head, the nurse strode to the door and
let herself out. I was alone with the bats and a ward full of
sleeping children.
A caretaker came in next, armed with a big net. I
watched, fascinated, as he attempted to catch the bats. He failed,
but successfully shooed the little creatures out of the ward and
into the corridor. The night nurse returned, smoothing down her
apron and pushing escaped tendrils of hair back into her cap.
“Still not asleep?” she whispered. “Let me sort your
bed out for you.”
She replaced my blanket and I snuggled down, tired
now. None of the other children had wakened. I closed my eyes and
slept. My dreams were filled with bats and country dancing.
I learned later that a colony of bats had inhabited
the old hospital. They had been disturbed by the ongoing demolition
works, and some had entered the hospital, visiting several wards,
including ours. I hoped that they moved on without too much trauma
and found a safe new home.
It was also time for me to move on. I never saw Mrs
Pellow, Nigel Harding or Dorchester Preparatory School again. I
would now move on to Talbot Heath (TH), following in my big
sister’s footsteps. I only hoped that Enid Blyton had been telling
the truth about boarding school life.
* * *
School Report
Reading: Victoria reads
well although shyness holds her back.
Writing: Careless, although
she has a good command of words.
Written Composition: Victoria enjoys this and has made progress.
Mathematics: Has the
impression that this subject is too difficult for her.
What a pity Victoria wastes so much time
because she has ample ability.
Similar Books
