Elephant Man - Christine Sparks [27]
“I would like you to meet Mrs. Mothershead,” he said to Merrick. “Mrs. Mothershead, Mr. John Merrick.”
Merrick had averted his eyes from the tall woman standing over him, but now he looked up at her and realized that she was gazing at him steadily. She plainly had no difficulty being in his presence, or looking at him.
“How do you do?” she said coolly.
When he made only a garbled sound in response she turned briskly away and stared at the mess on the floor. It took her only a few minutes to clear it up, but when she had lifted the tray and was turning to leave they were all pulled up short by a knock on the door. Mrs. Mothershead answered it, making sure her body filled the gap, just as Treves had done earlier. But she need not have bothered. It was Nora who stood there, holding another tray on which stood a fresh breakfast.
“I thought I’d better bring another one up, Mrs. Mothershead.”
“I’m glad to see you do think sometimes, Nurse Ireland.” Despite the hard words Mothershead’s tone was kind enough. “Give it to me, and take this one back.” She held out the tray containing the debris.
“Wouldn’t you like me to take this one in, Mrs. Mothershead?” Nora’s face was pale but determined.
“There’s no need for that girl. I’ll take it in. You get this one down to the kitchen, and tell them I want some buckets of hot water up here, quickly. And then tell the Supply Department I want a large wooden tub sent up, and some soap and towels. But make it clear to them that they’re to knock on the door and wait. Nobody is to come in.”
“Yes, Mrs. Mothershead.” Nora turned back down the stairs, but halted as Mothershead called her.
“Nora.”
“Yes, Mrs. Mothershead?”
“You’re not such a fool as I thought you. All right girl, get on. Don’t stand there staring.”
Mothershead retreated back into the Isolation Ward with the fresh breakfast.
“Come along,” she said, placing the tray on the table. “This has all got to be eaten, so let’s have no nonsense.”
Treves, who felt that the tone of command might just as easily be addressed to himself as Merrick, aided the man in getting to the edge of the bed and sliding his legs over the side.
“I think he’d better stay here to eat it,” he said apologetically. “He hasn’t the strength to move much.”
“Very well, sir.” Mothershead pulled the chair up close to the bed, and dipped the spoon into the porridge.
She handled the revolting business of feeding Merrick in a way that won Treves’ admiration. Nothing seemed to put her off, from the slobbering sounds that the Elephant Man made, to the frequency with which he spilled the porridge over himself. The smell she did not seem even to notice.
The meal took a long time, and before it was over there was a knock on the door. Mothershead shoved the spoon unceremoniously into Treves’ hand and went to answer.
Treves found that Merrick seemed less nervous in his hands than he had been in Mothershead’s, and wondered if the sense of exasperated duty that lay behind Mothershead’s brisk efficiency had communicated itself. He wondered how the disgusting porridge tasted to one who had been fed largely on water and potatoes.
“I’ll have them send you a good strong cup of tea later,” he muttered, barely knowing that he spoke. “You’ll enjoy it.”
From the door he could just hear Mothershead in conversation with a male voice that he recognized as belonging to Nettleton, the youngest of the porters.
“It’s heavy, ma’am,” said the voice respectfully. “Sure I can’t carry it in for you?”
“Be off with you, my lad,” Mothershead told him firmly. “I’ll take it in myself. I know very well what you want, and you’re not getting your nose in here?”
She backed in, pulling a large wooden bath tub behind her.
“I’m afraid there’s going to be more of that, sir,” she said when she shut the door.
“More of what, Mothershead?”
“Sightseers. If only that silly girl hadn’t screamed. It’ll be all