Title: That Awful Night
Fandom: Chalet School
Rating: G
Length: 817 words
Content notes: Set during "Gay From China at The Chalet School". Title is from Nell's line "I shall never forget that awful night when she lay between night and death, and I knew quite well that no one thought she would see the morning."
Author notes: sneaking in before the deadline I hope!
Summary: "Nell had caught snatches of the doctors’ hurried conversations, seen the looks on the nurses’ faces when she asked for news, knew enough about head injuries; she could guess how desperate Hilda’s case was."
“Matron? Can you help me, please? Miss Wilson is refusing to go to sleep and I don’t know what to do!”

Matron Clarence bit back an inpatient retort. Nurse Wildings was very young and very new to the job, she reminded herself, and today had been a terrible day for everyone.

“Very well, Nurse,” she said, “I’ll talk to her. Come with me so you can listen; you’ll come across a lot of recalcitrant patients in your life, and being able to deal with them is important.”

Putting down her pen, she left the sanctum of her tiny office for the ward, Nurse Wildings hurrying after her, and strode purposefully down the corridor. Miss Wilson… ah, yes, that was the simple leg fracture. Matron Clarence hadn’t had any dealings with her personally yet, her greater expertise having been requested for the compound fracture.

Entering the ward, she examined the patient she would be dealing with as she walked towards her. The white hair was curious, in light of the age Matron Clarence had just filled on a form; as she drew closer, she saw the face was more in accord with her youth, despite the lines of pain and worry that currently marked it. Her eyes were closed, but she was sitting bolt upright, her lips moving very slightly - ah, she was praying a rosary, the Matron realised.

“Miss Wilson?” The woman’s eyes flew open, and Matron Clarence was startled by the look of fear that came into her face. “I’m Matron Clarence, head of the nursing staff. Nurse Wildings tells me you’re refusing to sleep. Now, I can’t have that.”

Nell took a deep breath and released it, instructing herself to be calm. For a moment, she’d thought they’d come to tell her… “It’s not a refusal, Matron Clarence. I can’t sleep.”

Matron Clarence cut in, somewhat impatiently. “You’re still worked up from the accident, it’s not unusual, but we can give you sedatives to help - ”

“No!” Nell exclaimed, then forced herself to moderate her voice. “Hilda - Miss Annersley - is one of my dearest friends, and she’s lying between life and death. If… if the worst happens… Someone should be with her at that moment, and I’m the only one who can be - but not if you sedate me.”

Miss Annersley - the woman with the head injury. Matron Clarence had heard the doctors’ unvarnished opinions of the case, and knew just how likely it was the worst would happen. Still, she said, “We won’t force the sedatives on you unless it’s absolutely necessary, but you must at least try to sleep. You’re injured, and you need to rest and recover.”

“Do you really think I’ll sleep?” Nell asked in a low voice, then continued more firmly. “Let me pray. It will be far more help to me than trying to sleep, and it’s the only thing I can do for her… Please, let me.” Her voice broke on the last words.

Matron Clarence made a snap decision. Miss Wilson was almost certainly right that the structured prayer of a rosary would be far more restful than leaving her mind free to speculate on the worst possibilities. She’d sleep if sedated, but Matron Clarence had her own opinion on how restful - or rather not - such forced sleep actually was; and if, as seemed overwhelmingly probable, her friend died during the night, the guilt at not being there and anger at being kept away would certainly harm Miss Wilson’s recovery far more than this one night of missed sleep.

“I’ll compromise with you. You may keep praying, but you must lie down. Yes, you must. Your body needs it, and your prayers will be heard just as well.”

Reluctantly, Nell allowed herself to be lowered, clutching at her rosary. “You’ll tell me if there’s any change?”

“I give you my word,” Matron Clarence assured her. “Good or bad, you’ll know at once.”

“Thank you,” Nell said quietly. As the two nurses left, she closed her eyes tightly, willing back tears. She had caught snatches of the doctors’ hurried conversations, seen the looks on the nurses’ faces when she asked for news, knew enough about head injuries; she could guess how desperate Hilda’s case was. Tonight would decide it, one way or another… Only one night to wait, but what a desperate night it would be. The vivid realisation of how much she loved Hilda, that had first hit her when she was told of her injuries, kept crashing down upon her with increasing force. And how bitterly she would regret not having realised it before if the worst should happen - no, no, she wouldn’t think that. She couldn’t. She knew it was what everyone was expecting, but no. No. She couldn't let herself believe it. She had to keep hope, keep faith. Gripping the familiar, well-worn beads of Cherry’s old rosary more tightly, she began to pray again.