Lavender Blue

The uniform they had been given for their first day in Preliminary Training School was complicated, consisting of numerous parts which had to be laid out on the bed first, so that linking pieces could be teamed together. The cotton uniform dress was an unusual shade of blue and had separate elasticated white cuffs, designed to fit over the short sleeves of the dress. There was a stiff white collar that needed to be secured with the help of studs. This was a challenging feat for a group of girls who had little acquaintance with such a masculine ensemble. Then there was an equally stiff white apron to be worn over the dress and fastened at the back with a large safety pin. An inflexible, heavily starched belt served to hide the pin, but fastening the belt at the front required the use of yet more studs. Throughout their three years of training the girls would discover that these studs were like gold dust. They had a habit of disappearing mysteriously, though everyone knew they were pinched routinely when necessary. This propensity to disappear was characteristic, too, of the hair clips needed to anchor the nurse's cap. The cap itself had to be assembled and shaped from its starched template before it could be worn.

Laughing, the four girls worked together to identify the various components of the uniform and then to piece them together.

`The dress is a different colour from the other student nurses,' Aideen said, puzzled. `Almost purple,' she added.

`Lavender blue,' Isobel corrected her. `It's a new colour they're trying out with our group. God knows why.'

`Just our luck to be used for an experiment,' Deely said glumly. `What's the point of it anyway?'

`Just accept it as a new look,' Isobel advised. `Ours is not to reason why.' She was the first to dress, but instead of the thick black stockings the others had brought with them, hers were sheer and flattered her long shapely legs.

`Will you get away with those?' asked Deely, struggling to put her collar studs in place.

`The stockings, you mean? I don't see why not. Nobody said exactly what denier we were supposed to wear.'

`Yes, I know. They're a bit noticeable, that's all.' Deely was secretly envious of Isobel's svelte figure. Deely struggled with her own weight and was permanently on a diet, which varied according to the latest magazine articles she read on the subject. It's depressing, she thought, as she wrestled with the stiff, unyielding belt. Her waist and the belt seemed locked in opposition. Hard as she tried, the studs wouldn't fasten. Giving up in exasperation, she threw the belt on the floor. `Those things are not designed for normal people,' she groaned.

`We'd better get a move on,' Aideen said, checking her watch.

`The bus is waiting,' Mrs Moore called from the stairs. Her voice prompted a last minute jostle for the mirror, and then a hasty exit to the bus. They were going to the hospital canteen for breakfast, then on to the training school where they would be introduced to the tutors and given their syllabus for the three-year course.

`I don't know how I feel about these coats. They're too military. Not flattering in the least,' Aideen complained. Her navy belted coat was too long, and would have to be altered in the hospital sewing room. She tugged at her matching navy cap, which threatened to flatten her carefully backcombed hair.

The bus now filled up with thirty girls, many of whom had been collected from other nurses' homes. They were all dressed alike. Some seemed uncomfortable in their new clothes, while others looked as if they had been wearing the uniform for years. The bus drove onto the Malone Road and stopped at the first set of traffic lights. From the window, Rhian watched the stream of cars emerging from the side avenues onto the road. She was struck by the volume of traffic, and by the air of busy purpose which seemed to be everywhere at this early hour. It was very different from Redcastle in County Donegal, where she lived with her mother. There, the days started gently and traffic was sparse. People spoke to you if you met them in the country lanes, though you were unlikely to encounter them too early in the morning. Here, life carried on at a different pace, and people looked impatient and hurried. When she craned her neck towards the window, Rhian could make out some of the place names --Windsor Park, Derryvolgie Avenue, Eglantine Avenue. Deep down, Rhian didn't really know if she wanted to be part of the busy city or the training that lay ahead of her. It was her mother's idea that she should become a nurse.