Lucille Anderson switched on her bedroom light and peered blearily at her clock.  Somewhat reluctantly she forced herself out of bed.  It was days like this, when the rain battered on the window and everything seemed murky and grey, that she most missed the sunshine of home.  She dressed hurriedly since there was no heating, for the calendar was adamant it was spring, and went down to the kitchen.

Val Dyer passed her a cup of tea, which Lucille accepted gratefully.  In turn, she asked Val if she wanted some toast.  Val nodded, so Lucille cut them both a slice of bread; she knew Val wasn’t inclined to talk until she was at least partway through her second cup of tea.

Lucille turned the toast on the grill and then sighed as the gas light blew out.  “We need to ask Fred if he can do something about that draught,” she said.  “Sooner or later the gas will go out and no-one will notice until someone lights a match and the whole thing goes bang.”

“I’ll ask him,” Val said.  “In the meantime, half-toasted bread will be fine.”

Trixie came into the kitchen and said, “Where’s Phyllis, she’s normally the first one down?”

“She was called out in the night,” Lucille said.  “She did say who it was, but I don’t remember.  It’ll be on the board.”

“Probably Deidre Watts,” Val said.  “It’s her fourth and she wasn’t too sure of her dates.”

Lucille was about to reply when Sister Frances came running in.  “You’ve got to come at once,” Sister Frances said.  “I’ve told her not to, but she’s insistent and she won’t listen to me.”

Lucille looked at Sister Frances.  “And what is Sister Monica Joan doing?” she asked.

“She’s standing on a chair, trying to replace the candles in the chapel,” Sister Frances said.  “I said we can do them later, but she ignored me, and I’m afraid she’ll fall off.”

Val put down her half-eaten slice of toast, and the three nurses went with Sister Frances to the chapel.

“Sister Monica Joan, you really shouldn’t be doing that,” Trixie said.

“But they are guttering and need replacing,” Sister Monica Joan said.

“In which case, we can replace them,” Lucille said.  “Now let Sister Frances help you off the chair and you can sit on the pew and direct us.”

“The candles are in the little cupboard to the left of the door,” Sister Monica Joan said.  She waved an arm and wobbled.  Lucille and Sister Frances hurriedly each took one of Sister Monica Joan’s arms and helped her down.

Trixie and Val went to get the candles.  “We’re not supposed to bless them or anything, are we?” Trixie said.

“If we are, we’ll soon find out,” Val replied.

Val stood on the chair and Trixie passed up the candles so she could replace the old ones.  “I think I’ll need to mention to Fred the draught in here, as well,” Val said.

Lucille lit a taper which she carried round, passing it up to Val to light the candles when they were properly seated in their holders.

Once they had finished, all four candles were burning brightly, and shedding a warm light in the chapel.

Sister Monica Joan smiled.  “That is much better,” she said.  “And you have proved that many hands make light work.”