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looked horrified. ‘No thank you! It’s the last place on earth I’d want to visit. Hospitals give me the heebie jeebies. Honestly, Jane, I think you must be nuts wanting to spend any time at all in there. Look at it, it’s just like a prison.’ She swallowed nervously and hugged her bag close as if to ward off evil.
    ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought until I went inside, but it’s a different place altogether.’
    Already I felt territorial about the place but Beth wasn’t convinced so we made for a nearby bus stop. Despite the best efforts of some dedicated smokers, my initial impression of Aberdeen, became clearer from the front of the double-decker taking us into town.
    A cheerful conductor whistled ‘Annie Laurie’ as he winked at us, then punched out half fares. The coins clinked in his bag as he took the stairs two at a time and in time. As yet, The Beatles weren’t around to expand his repertoire. Maybe I could become a clippie, I mused. I could count, practise the whistling, I’d be good at stair jumping and the conductor sounded as if he was happy at his work.
    ‘Now tell me how you got on.’ There was a book on psychology on Beth’s lap. What about becoming a case history?
    ‘The written bit was ok. I don’t think they’re looking for an Einstein, but put it like this Beth: if I needed the kiss of life and yon Matron had the chance to do it, I think she might turn down the offer.’
    ‘Ah!’ said Beth in an understanding way, then the bus jolted, throwing us together enjoying a collective mirth. It was great when she appreciated my jokes and didn’t pursue unpleasant subjects. For a moment, the interview and exam were forgotten and I could just enjoy the bus ride.
    Below, and behind their glass frontages, shop haute couture mannequins adopted improbable poses. That malicious wind had more luck plucking at the clothes of the pavement people as they hurried past. Whilst a boy dressed in fifties Teddyboy style seemed better attired for the weather in his thick brothel creepers and long jacket, the girls in their short skirts should have had medals for endurance.
    ‘This is a great way to window shop,’ I said but Beth was already on her feet, gathering her possessions and plunging down the aisle.
    ‘Come on, if we’re quick, we’ll catch the traffic lights. It’ll save a big trek to Marks & Spencer and you owe me a pair of stockings, though I’d prefer tights – they’re the latest thing.’

7
A DRESSING GOWN GETS A DRESSING DOWN
    ‘So how did you get on?’
    It was amazing. Mrs Davidson’s bell had fallen silent whilst Sister Gordon was fully occupied at the far end of the hospital with a new patient. I’d a nag-free moment to spend with happy people.
    ‘I don’t know why you’re asking.’ Mrs Spence’s sightless eyes gazed into the distance like those of a mystic. ‘Jane’ll have come up with all the right answers. She’s a natural comedian too,’ she leant forward and a note of excitement crept into that gentle voice, ‘but tell me, does Marks & Spencer really sell black underwear?’
    Mrs Fotheringham chuckled, ‘I don’t know about that but if you’re wanting any, Miss Kerr’ll give you some of hers.’
    There was a huge chainlike affair above her bed. It looked like a gallows, was called a monkey pole and gave her a handy grasp for pulling herself up. It clanked as she hoisted into full chat mode.
    Breathless with the effort, she wheezed, ‘Elsie Kerr’s got to come into hospital every now and then. She lives at the back of beyond in a house with no running water. Sometimes she lets herself go, doesn’t eat, then gets admitted so we can build her up. She doesn’t like it but it’s for her own good.’
    Mrs Fotheringham had been in hospital so long she regarded herself as a member of staff. Maybe it made her incarceration bearable and certainly she bore it with greater grace than Mrs Davidson. Perhaps I should go and investigate. The silence was beginning to shout