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Looking for Work; Washerwoman at the Hospital
Topic Started: 27 Sep 2009, 12:06 AM (451 Views)
Sally Fisher
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[Taking place in the afternoon of What the cat dragged in.]

Sally chewed on her lip, looking up at the hospital skeptically. It would be no more difficult than asking at one of the fine houses - probably easier, in fact, since there would be no housekeeper asking awkward questions. It seemed like there was always someone who knew someone in the Swann house - the cook's nephew, the butler's cousin's wife. Meddling gossips, the lot of them.

That was unlikely in the hospital. The sort of people here wouldn't mix with the sort of people there, surely. But the place would be full of marines. Was it really worth the trouble? More to the point was the question of whether it would be worth the money. If she could get the work, it probably would be. Anyone washing diseased or blood-stained sheets would naturally charge a higher price than usual, and if the surgeon could be brought to agree to her prices, it would be a lucrative business move. Like it or not, Sally needed the money.

Grimacing to herself, she finally approached the entryway which was guarded by two particularly stupid looking marines. "I'm here to see the surgeon," she told the one that looked to be marginally more intelligent than the other.
Edited by Sally Fisher, 28 Sep 2009, 05:50 AM.
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Two marines stood guarding the hospital, one at each side of the entrance. It didn't truly matter which individual stood where, as their function was more ceremonial than for actual protection, and either was as effective as the other when it came to defeating opponents. In fact, the only use the only use that the majority of their comrades felt they had was as weapons holders. Though the comment, "when they can actually hold their muskets" was often added on to the amusement of all.

In truth though, both Murtogg and Mullroy, butt of the jokes as they were, did have some use. It was through their ceaseless effort guarding the privvies that all could use them without fear of being pranked upon by any errant midshipmen. And they could easily distract opponents who lacked the necessary concentration, by getting into an argument. Which is precisely what they were doing.

"Tha' a woman?" Murtogg asked, "wonder what she's doin' out around 'ere."

"I'd imagine she's coming this way," Mullroy said.

"Wha' makes you think tha'?"

"She's walkin'n this direction."

"Bu' why 'ere?"

"Well if you're so interested, why don't you ask her?"

"Fine."

"I'm here to see the surgeon."

Mullroy barely bit back a grin. She chose to speak to him. Over Murtogg. He's make sure his fellow marine wouldn't forget that bit. He turned to his companion.

"She's 'ere to see the surgeon."

"Well, ow's I suppos'd to know tha'?" Murtogg shot back, "I didn't get a chance to ask 'er."

Mullroy shook his head, "Why you need to see the surgeon, Miss?" he asked, "sorry, 'ave to ask ev'ryone tha'."
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Sally Fisher
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"She's 'ere to see the surgeon," said the marine she had spoken to. Wasn't that exactly what she just had said?

"Well, ow's I suppos'd to know tha'?"
griped the other. "I didn't get a chance to ask 'er."

Sally frowned impatiently as they carried on their pointless conversation. Surely coming to see the surgeon was not such an uncommon occurrence at the hospital. And she was looking for work in a place full of men like these? Her opinion of marines was not rising.

"Why you need to see the surgeon, Miss? Sorry, 'ave to ask ev'ryone tha'."

Her frown continued. She did not feel like explaining the nature of her visit to these louts. To tell them she was looking for work - well, she knew exactly what kind of a laugh they would have. "Private business - wha'd ye think? And it's Missus, not Miss." Did they ask all the patients to explain their maladies too? But thinking of which... "Better not stand too close, dearie. Dunno if it's catching," she said with a grin.
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"Private business - wha'd ye think? And it's Missus, not Miss."

Murtogg grinned as he quipped, "Lookit yer gonna 'ave to find someone else to be yer wife, then."

Mullroy turned to fix an icy glare on his partner, letting him know that humour, if that indeed had been his intention, was not appreciated.

"Better not stand too close, dearie. Dunno if it's catching."

That wiped the grin off Murtogg's face and he shuffled to the side, giving her more room, oblivious to the mischievous nature of Sally's comments.

Mullroy went pale and backed into the wall.

"So, erm," Murtogg said, "you got sumthin' you need to see the sawbones for?" He hoped it would draw the attention of the woman away from Mullroy so that he might compose himself. By some miracle.

"You don' seem all tha' sick..." he said looking at her.
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Sally Fisher
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Sally was pleased to see that her comment had its desired effect, at least causing the men to take her seriously. What other reason could they imagine for her coming here? Did they think she was a beggar coming to pester the surgeon for some charity, or a whore visiting by broad daylight before dinner? Or perhaps they thought she might try to blow up Fort Charles with explosives hidden in her apron pockets. Well, they could think what they might, but she was not going to explain her business to them.

"So, erm, you got sumthin' you need to see the sawbones for?" asked the one with the pinched face."You don' seem all tha' sick..."

She stared at him for a brief moment before exclaiming, "Well, that's lucky for all of us, ain't it! Standin' outside the door has rubbed off, and you've become a surgeon yourself, have you? Saves me some time and some money too, and saves your friend from having to worry he's gonna die tomorrow. Don't know why you waste your time standin' out here when you could be making a fortune setting up shop in town! I bet you'se a real physician and all! I hope they pay you for it, I really do. You must'a worked so hard, all that university and training..."
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Sally Fisher
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There was a very long pause as the two sentries seemed to be deciding how to respond. Perhaps sarcasm was not their language. Perhaps they better understood the dilemma of a damsel in distress.

"The truth is..." Sally began in a breathless voice. "I walked all this way of a very long distance and I simply cannot... move... another... foot... 'less to be gone inside and have the good man, the kind man, hear my tale of woe and offer me some hope, some easing of the pain I must bear daily." She seemed to weaken at the knees. Her empty washtub dangled weakly from one hand before it slipped from her grip and clattered to the ground. That was the catalyst for Sally to become jelly in all of her bones, melting back into the musket-bearing arms of whichever one he was, the tall one. Her eyelashes fluttered as if waking from a dream, looking up in his face. "What happened? Who - Is it you, handsome one? I don't even know your names, but at the docks we call the pair of youse the Handsome One and the Brave One."
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Mullroy and Murtogg were struck dumb by Sally's rant at them. Once or twice during their silence, Mullroy's jaw had twitched up and down, as if he were attempting to form some sort of rudimentary sounds that might count as words, but nothing came out.

"I walked all this way of a very long distance and I simply cannot... move... another... foot... 'less to be gone inside and have the good man, the kind man, hear my tale of woe and offer me some hope, some easing of the pain I must bear daily."

"Oh," Murtogg said, finally refinding his voice, "well in tha' case--oh, you don't look to well..."

"How's 'bout we let 'er pass, then," Mullroy said, pushing Murtogg out of the doorway so that Sally could pass.

"I think she's gonna fain'," Murtogg said.

"So why don't you catch her?"

*thump*

The basin she was holding hit the ground, and the two moved forward, not quick enough to keep her from hitting the ground herself, but enough to make sure she didn't end up completely sprawled on the ground.

"Why's this always 'appinin' to us?" Murtogg said.

"Nice job catching 'er," Mullroy said sarcastically, getting a grip on her, and pulling her up slightly more, grunting as he did so.

Oblivious to his companions comment, Murtogg studied Sally's face, "Oy, I think she's wakin' 'ere."

"What happened? Who - Is it you, handsome one? I don't even know your names, but at the docks we call the pair of youse the Handsome One and the Brave One."

Murtogg looked up at the equally shocked looking Mullroy, "I think she migh've 'it 'er 'ead."

Mullroy rolled his eyes.

"Um, Ma'am," he said, "don't s'pose you are able to walk? Why don't we bring you in to see Finch'en?"
Edited by Alia-Hildwyn, 1 Nov 2009, 03:05 AM.
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Sally Fisher
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Sally was a bit annoyed that they didn't manage to hold her up, having given them plenty of warning that she was going to collapse. Weren't marines supposed to have lightning-quick reflexes? Apparently not this pair. She winced as they pulled her up, nearly pulling her arm out of socket in the process. Good thing they were working outside of the hospital instead of in.

"Um, Ma'am," one of them said when she had sufficiently recovered, "don't s'pose you are able to walk? Why don't we bring you in to see Finch'en?"

"Oh, yes, I can walk," she murmured, swaying as she raised a shaky hand to her brow. "I'm fine, really. Just a little dizzy, that's all. It's the heat. Probably nothing to bother the surgeon about. I'm sure my whole family is... just suffering from... the heat." This time she decided to lean against the wall rather than risk being dropped by one of the sentries. "I wanted to talk to him on a... different matter, but perhaps I should... ohhhh." She reached for the washtub and allowed the exertion to be too much for her depleted strength.
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"Do something!" Mullroy hissed at Murtogg, convinced that all he was going to be was a useless layabout.

The woman looked like she was on the verge of fainting again, and he didn't want to get stuck dealing with this. He was no good with those rescuing sorts of things, and besides, while she may not be all that heavy, he wasn't all that strongly built, and holding her up would eventually become an issue.

"Find the surgeon!" he said, and for once Murtogg seemed to do exactly what he said. That was a miracle, not because they were both the same rank (something which he felt was a tad unfair), but because Murtogg never seemed to initiate his own actions. He only ever seemed to look to others for orders.

"Righ'!" Murtogg edged past them, into the hospital proper. "Mr Finch! Sir! We have a bit of an issue at the door!" he called out as he dashed in, neatly clipping the walls, and spinning to fall to the ground.

"Oof!"
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Sally Fisher
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That was a bit much. Sally was glad to finally have the door opened to her, but she did not want to cause the surgeon undue alarm. He would only be angry when he learned that she was not in fact ill. And she did not want to ask an angry surgeon for a job. She spied a little wooden chair inside near the door and pointed herself toward it. If she could wait quietly till an opportune moment--

But one of the marines was shouting now. "Mr Finch! Sir! We have a bit of an issue at the door!" Sally cringed.

"No no no no, don't shout!" she hissed, just before he took a tumble. She cringed again as she watched him and decided to address herself to the one who had stayed by her side. The self-appointed gallant, probably. "I'm sure the surgeon's got other patients to see, what's sick and dying and all, and we don't want to disturb them." She drifted toward the chair as she spoke, hoping that he would follow her whispering example and keep his own voice low. "I'll just sit here and wait my turn and I'll be all right. It's a bit cooler in here. And I'd hate to get you in trouble for leaving your post. Don't want to distract you from your... work."

There was still the washtub. Would it look strange to have it with her when she spoke to the surgeon? Would it seem presumptuous, or would it show a well-prepared willingness to work straight away? She had only brought it along because there had not been time to take it home after the Weavers' place. Perhaps it was better to leave it out of sight for now. "Me washtub," she whispered, "I'll leave it outside with you for now, aye?"
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Mullroy cringed as he looked up to see his fellow hapless marine crash to the ground. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"You'll 'ave to forgive 'im, Ma'am, 'e was dropp'd as a child."

"I'm sure the surgeon's got other patients to see, what's sick and dying and all, and we don't want to disturb them."

"Well, I'm sure they're not as--" he clamped his mouth shut, realising that if she was indeed not a "Miss" then she might take offense to his pointing out that she was attractive and that it might be a reason for her to jump ahead of other people who might need tending. If he was the surgeon, he would make that the case!

He kept an arm right next to her in case she was about to drop. She didn't look the most steady, and he figured there might be more trouble because she had already collapsed. Where was Murtogg with Finch already?

"I'll just sit here and wait my turn and I'll be all right. It's a bit cooler in here. And I'd hate to get you in trouble for leaving your post. Don't want to distract you from your... work."

Mullroy looked at her, and then back at the door. He should be back at his post, he didn't want any Sergeant or Corporal to show up and for there to be trouble because one of them was not at the post. And she seemed like she might be fine on the chair...

"Awwright," he said, "if that blaggard don't show up with any 'elp, be sure to call," with that he stepped back to the door, and once outside, forgot to watch where he stepped. He was too far to hear her whisper and tripped over the washpan, landing on the ground.

"Bloody, damnit!" he cursed.
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Sally Fisher
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"Aye, I'll be sure to call if he don't come back soon." She smiled weakly and gratefully at the marine, watching him with impatience as he finally went back out the door. And then there was a metal clang and a crash followed by some cursing.

"Bloody, damnit!"

She cringed as she recognized the sound of her own washtub taking a tumble. She sprung to her feet, thinking to rush outside and check that it was not too badly damaged. But then she would probably have to sympathize with that idiot and talk to him further, and she might miss her chance of seeing the surgeon if he happened past. Grimacing, she sat down again, keeping an ear open for the marine outside and the other ear listening for the surgeon or anyone in authority.

"Be careful out there with me washtub," she finally called, thinking it would be impolite to ignore him completely. The amount of noise he had made would have been impossible for her not to hear.
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Henry Jecks
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"Be careful out there with me washtub!"

Eh? Henry paused in the middle of what he was doing and turned. There was no one else in the workroom, nor was there any washtub for him to be careful of. At least none that he could see. Perhaps that was just it, he thought. An invisible washtub would certainly bear watching out for. Only one couldn't actually watch out for it. 'Beware' would perhaps be a more appropriate verb. Cave washtub...or whatever the Latin equivalent of washtub would be. Lav-something?

It took a moment for Henry's derailed train of thought to register with the more sensible part of his brain, but when it did, he immediately chided himself for such absurd levity. It was concentration he wanted now, not idiotic daydreams.

Moving in the direction from which the voice had come, he peered cautiously into the receiving room. There was a woman not much older than himself sitting there and, guessing that it had been she who had spoken, he took half a step farther into the room, "I beg your pardon?"
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Sally Fisher
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While Sally was still looking towards the door, there was a voice behind her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh!" She started like a someone caught tresspassing and hurriedly got up from her chair. But when she looked at the speaker, he was only a scrawny, thin, disheveled young man, no one to worry about at all. He was probably another patient like herself - or rather, a real patient, unlike herself.

"I were just..." She pointed vaguely at the door and then started over. "I come to see the surgeon. You been waiting long?"

Now that she looked at him, he really was quite a scarecrow. No shoes, ill-fitting clothes that had never been washed (in all their twenty-odd years, she guessed), and his limbs all skin and bones, pale grubby skin at that. It had rained the night before, so naturally everyone had a bit of mud about them, but this one looked like he had slept in it. What sort of diseases did he have? Maybe all of them. Best not to stand too close to the man.
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Henry Jecks
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"You been waiting long?"

"Er...no. That is to say, I'm not waiting. Well, I was, but I'm not currently...waiting, that is. I'm..." working he had intended to say, but trailed off, suddenly self-conscious. He could not imagine that his appearance inspired confidence. Quite the opposite in fact, since an admission of his role there would no doubt give the impression of the blind leading the blind. However he had just told her that he wasn't waiting to see the surgeon. He could say that he was a patient staying in the infirmary. But what if he then had to assist the surgeon in treating her? Surely dishonesty was even worse for business than a disheveled appearance? Besides, he concluded, living one lie was complicated enough.

"I recently received employment here," he finally admitted.
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Sally Fisher
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"I recently received employment here," the young scarecrow said.

"Oh." Sally stared at him a moment. "Did you really!"

A brief thought flashed through her mind that he had beaten her to the prize and had taken her own rightful washing job for himself. But that was obviously not the case, for who would hire such a dirty looking fellow to clean anything at all? She glanced at his feet. They at least were clean, the bandages bright in contrast with everything else.

"And recently, you say?" Too recent to have spent his wages on a proper pair of breeches. She smiled amiably. "Well that must be why I ain't seen you here before, least not on a Friday. I'm Sally Fisher. The washerwoman. Is our Mister Finch in, or has he gone to his dinner?"




(I think it's Friday, July 9, 1751, yes?)
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Henry Jecks
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It was certainly a logical explanation for why a woman with no discernable ailment was loitering in the receiving room. It was also an unexpected relief for Henry who, never having treated a female patient before, was less than keen to begin so suddenly.

"Your pardon, madam," he replied hurriedly, "I took you for a patient. Henry Jecks, your servant," he continued with a gesture to himself, "and I'm afraid I don't know where Master Finch is at the moment." The words came out in a near automatic rush and he paused apologetically before asking, "Is there anything I may assist you with? Or would you prefer to wait?"
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Sally Fisher
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In contrast with his rude appearance, the man spoke and acted like a gentleman. Strange. Sally was not sure what to make of him. A clerk of some sort? But whatever his position, he was not a washerwoman. And unless there had been one suddenly hired - unless that hussy Molly Dunn had beat her to it - there was yet no one regularly employed to do the washing. Would he have the authority to say yes or no? Probably not, but he could at least put in a good word for her. And if he was really that new, he would be as ignorant of her as she was of him. If the surgeon was out or occupied, she would have a bit of time to prove her mettle.

"Is there anything I may assist you with?" he asked, "Or would you prefer to wait?"

She gave him an understanding grin. "Oh, suppose I'll get on with it, if that's a'right with you, Mister Jecks! May's well start now while the sun's out! What've you got as needs cleaning today? Linens and bandages and the usual?"
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Henry Jecks
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"What've you got as needs cleaning today? Linens and bandages and the usual?"

She was asking him what to do? He could almost have laughed at the absurdity of this, if the question hadn't caught him so completely off guard. That he was probably the least capable of all those present in the infirmary to answer the question did not escape him. He did not even know what 'the usual' entailed. "That is, I think, best left to your discretion," he hedged, "Master Finch left no instructions that I'm aware of, but you can, no doubt, assess what needs attention far more accurately than I."

He began to edge toward the door to the hallway, "If you'll excuse me, I must return to my duties--" Duties? he thought with sudden embarrassment, he'd been working there for a matter of hours; his attempts to keep busy could hardly be considered formal duties--"But please let me know if you require any assistance."
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Sally Fisher
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"That is, I think, best left to your discretion."

Her own discretion? Usually her discretion was best, of course, but right now it didn't help at all. She cast a quick glance over the doors, four that she could see, and of course there were stairs by the entrance. Sally had not been inside the hospital more than twice, and never further than the workroom from whence the man had just come.

But there was no time to waste. At any moment the surgeon Mister Finch might appear and throw her out. She needed to get situated immediately and prove herself invaluable, get her claws into the work, dig in her heels so they would have to keep her.

"That's a'right, Mister Jecks. I'll just fetch me washtub, left it outside, and then I can gather up the sheets and things in it. Always gotta change them sheets!" She laughed, moving as if to go outside before she paused. "Actually, Mister Jecks sir, since you offer so kind, could you do us a favor? Could you get one o' the lads to carry it to the rooms for me, the washtub I mean, and I'll carry the washboard separate? Just while I gather up the linens. Don't like to make a clattering noise all over when folks is tryin' to sleep and all." She looked at him with a hopeful smile, or what she hoped was a hopeful smile.
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Henry Jecks
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[ooc] So sorry for taking so long with this! [/ooc]

With a polite smile, Henry turned to leave only to be called back by the woman's request. "Certainly," he said with more confidence than he felt (it was not with a little trepidation that he contemplated asking one of the seamen to assist the washerwoman), "If you'll just wait here a moment..."

Stepping out of the receiving room, he glanced along the empty corridor before the sound of voices drew him to the working room. Two tars had arrived there in the brief interval since he had left and for a fleeting moment he took one of them for Dyer; however the face which turned itself enquiringly toward him was entirely foreign to him and he retreated to the relative safety of the corridor.

Various scenarios looped through his head, all dishearteningly short and all ending in very much the same manner, with some variant of "Who the hell are you?" being demanded of him. In isolation it was a simple enough question. In context, however, it took on a rhetorical quality which discouraged a response unless, of course, one was possessed of epaulettes or a title longer than one's arm.

Being in possession of neither of these, Henry waffled nervously for several more moments before cautiously re-entering the receiving room, "I'm afraid the others are quite busy," he lied, "However, I would be happy to assist. If you have no objection, that is."
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Sally Fisher
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"However, I would be happy to assist," the man said, "If you have no objection, that is."

"None at all, Mister Jecks, none at all, thank you kindly. Just let me fetch me washtub," she said, immediately exiting through the archway again. She ignored the sentries and hurried back inside before they could ask her any questions, shutting the door as soon as she could.

At first the idea of Jecks' company worried Sally, having him along to watch her every move, but then she realized that perhaps it might work in her favor. If it was to be the blind leading the blind, perhaps any mistakes she made might be attributed to him. Additionally, as a newcomer, his word would not count for much if he were to complain to the surgeon. For her part, though, she had no idea where to even start.

"Ready now!" she announced cheerfully. "Lead the way!"
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Henry Jecks
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Taking the washtub gingerly from her, Henry stepped away from the door to allow her to pass.

"Ready now!" she announced, and then to his complete surprise,"Lead the way!"

Henry looked quickly behind him and only when he had satisfied himself that there was no one there whom she could possibly be addressing thus, did he turn back. Him? Lead the way? The layout of the infirmary was hardly complicated, but such conditions had never prevented him from getting lost in the past. Besides, the woman must have her own routine by now, her own particular order in which she visited the different rooms...

"Madam, I fear you put too much faith in my knowledge of the premises. Perhaps you would prefer to lead?"
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Sally Fisher
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Well so much for that tactic. "I was forgettin' you was new," she said, a bit of condescension in her tone. She moved down the passage and hazarded a door at random. It was locked. "Mister Finch must've forgot to unlock it," she explained. If the door was locked, it was probably something like a private office or a supply room, and not anything that she needed access to anyway.

She moved on to the door beside it, hoping it would reveal rows of patients lying in their bunks. Instead it was the dispensary, its glass bottles and colored liquids faintly gleaming in the dim light behind cabinet doors or sitting on shelves.

"The linens ain't in here!" she exclaimed, sounding surprised not to see them. "The clean linens, I mean. Maybe they must've taken them upstairs. Let's go and look." For the thought had suddenly struck her that one of these downstairs rooms might be Finch's own office, and she might stumble in on him eating his dinner. Though it might be worse if the upstairs was his private living quarters! Was it? She looked at her new assistant. "Unless you think Mr. Finch's up there? Don't want to disturb him while he's eating."
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Henry Jecks
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”Let's go and look."

Henry shrugged and followed her. He was not entirely sure why she was looking for clean linens. Given her occupation, he would have expected rather the opposite. However, he wasn’t about to question her methods. Having grown up with two sisters, he knew better.

She paused suddenly and turned, causing him to stop short to avoid knocking into her with the washtub. What could be the matter now? No doubt some other question which he would, inevitably, be incapable of answering.

"Unless you think Mr. Finch's up there? Don't want to disturb him while he's eating."

“In the enlisted men’s ward?” asked Henry, puzzled. It seemed an odd place to eat, but who knew. “Is that customary?”
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Sally Fisher
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Ah. So upstairs was the enlisted men's ward. Not the surgeon's own residence. Sally laughed vaguely. "Oh, well... Not always, but you know Mister Finch!"

At least that answered the question of where to go to find the patients. If there were any patients in the enlisted men's ward. But if not, at least she would get to have a look around and see what she might be dealing with in terms of linens and beds, that sort of thing. Logistics. Logistics were important.

"But he probably won't mind, so shall we?" And she led the way up the stairs, suppressing her hesitation. This really was turning out to be more nerve-wracking than she had expected, particularly with an audience.

At the top of the stairs she plunged straight on to open the first door that she came to and poked her head in. Inside were several neat cots, all obviously untenanted. "No one in here today? Well, that's easier for us, innit." And she pulled the door closed again.

There was only one other door to choose, and this she opened to reveal patients in their beds. Just as they should be. "Afternoon, lads," she said in a confident but not overloud voice. After all, one should let sleeping patients lie, at least until it was immediately time to change their linens.
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