story – natty
A story for Natty – sorry it has taken so long
Miss Blue-frock and Mr. Stripy-blazer approached the summerhouse from opposite directions. Natty wiped the lenses of opera glasses and focused them on the gap in the hedge that gave on to the summerhouse. Mr. Stripy-blazer had attended many of Uncle A’s house parties and never failed to provide entertainment, at least from Natty’s vantage. She was never permitted to meet any of Uncle A’s guests, but she listened to the servants’ gossip. Mr. Stripy-blazer had recently Come Down from Oxford, where he had rowed. He was well-connected, well-mannered, a sportsman, a Good Catch, and a Cad. Whenever Uncle A held a house party, Natty watched for Mr. Stripy-blazer’s diverting antics in the summerhouse. Just now, in fact, he and Miss Blue-frock were moving rapidly on from their first, abrupt kiss. Natty shifted on the windowsill for a steadier view as Mr. Stripy-blazer disappeared beneath Miss Blue-frock’s skirt.
“Natalie!”
She jumped, heart pounding. The opera glasses clattered to the floor.
“Come down from there, child.”
Trembling, Natty climbed down from the windowsill and stared at the woman who had just discovered her hiding spot.
“What are you doing in here?” the woman asked. Natty picked up the opera glasses and tucked them into her pocket. “What were you spying on up there?”
“Nothing.”
The woman frowned. “Come with me.”
Natty crossed her arms. “Who are you?”
“Miss Bea.” Then, seeing the puzzlement on Natty’s face, “Miss Bea’s sister.”
“But you’re old!” Natty’s nurse was not yet twenty, she had said. This woman’s hair was turning gray around the edges. How could she be Miss Bea’s sister? How could she be called Miss Bea too? And, where was her Miss Bea?
“We’re a large family,” said the woman. “Carrie is our youngest.”
“You mean my Miss Bea?”
“My sister has been called away on urgent business, and I’ve come to take her place for the time being.” Natty’s face fell. She’d liked her Miss Bea. Old Miss Bea wrinkled her brow as if she knew more than she was saying. “And not a moment too soon, I think.”
She took Natty by the wrist and led her out of the linen cupboard and back to the nursery. Her hand was soft but strong in a way that made Natty uneasy. Why would she say not a moment too soon? Old Miss Bea sat on the window-seat and drew Natty in front of her.
“You were supposed to be resting, I thought.”
“I was. I –“
“Leaving the nursery and spying out of cupboard windows is not resting,” Old Miss Bea said firmly. Natty’s stomach churned. “Your fever is back, I think.”
“It isn’t!” Natty protested. “And I don’t need to rest!”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Miss Bea put a hand on the back of Natty’s neck and led her into the little bathroom. She rattled through the cupboard and emerged with a jar. From her apron she produced a thermometer, then she sat down in the straight backed chair. “Come here,” she said.
Natty opened her mouth, confident in her ability to move the thermometer discreetly from underneath her tongue.
Miss Bea took her by the elbow. “Don’t be silly.” Before Natty knew what was happening, she had been tipped across Miss Bea’s knee.
She struggled, panic setting in. “I never have my temperature taken that way! I’m too old!”
“Nonsense,” said Miss Bea, lifting her dress and unceremoniously whisking down her knickers. “It’s the most reliable method. Hold still.”
Natty felt a sharp smack on her bottom, then something wet on Miss Bea’s finger, then the cold glass of the thermometer going into her bottom.
“I’m too old!” she cried.
“Apparently,” said Miss Bea, “you aren’t. Now, stop fussing. No one’s hurting you.”
Natty felt another slap, less hard this time, on the top of her thigh. She stopped squirming and closed her eyes.
It wasn’t really happening. She wasn’t a baby. She wasn’t really having her temperature taken this way. In a minute this Miss Bea would disappear and her Miss Bea would be back, the nice Miss Bea Natty could fool without much trouble. Nice Miss Bea who never did more than scold her. Nice Miss Bea who felt sorry for her, being orphaned and being sick so much of the time. Nice Miss Bea who brought her nice things to eat and then disappeared conveniently for hours at a time with the gardener’s boy. Nice Miss Bea who always said how clever she was, clever beyond her years. Nice Miss Bea who—
The thermometer moved as Mean Miss Bea took it out of her bottom.
“Hmm,” she said disapprovingly. “Your fever most certainly is back, young Natalie, and you most certainly haven’t been resting as you were told.” Abruptly, she pulled Natty to her feet. Natty reached down to pull up her knickers, but Miss Bea slapped her hands away. “We’ll have those off, I think.”
“What!”
But they were already at her ankles and Miss Bea was taking them off her.
“I need them!”
“Little girls who aren’t well belong in bed and do not need pants.”
“I am well! And I don’t need to rest.” Miss Bea just looked at her. Natty could tell she didn’t believe her. “All I do is rest. I hate resting! I’m so sick and tired of resting I could jump out the window and smash up my brains on the pavement!”
Without warning, she burst into tears. Then, equally without warning, Miss Bea pulled Natty into her arms. “I know,” she said.
“You don’t know!” Natty sobbed. “No one knows.”
“Perhaps not,” said Miss Bea, “but I know what it’s like to be unwell for a long time.”
Natty’s tears ebbed. “You do?”
“Yes. But that is neither here nor there. When I was young, I had no Nurse Bea to look after me.”
“You’re a nurse?”
“Certainly. And who knows how much quicker I would have got well if I had.”
“What was the matter with you?”
“Again, neither here nor there. The point, young Natalie, is that you do have Nurse Bea to look after you, for the moment. And in the time we have together, you can rely on me to do what’s best for you in every possible way.”
It sounded luckier than finding a penny under the rug. Natty wondered why it made her tummy feel funny. Nurse Bea proceeded to examine her, feeling her throat, looking in her eyes, at her tongue, then turning her around to unbutton her dress.
“Oh!” Natty protested.
“Yes, yes,” Nurse Bea replied. “Let’s take all that as read, shall we?”
Natty wasn’t sure what she meant, exactly, but she had an uneasy feeling that Nurse Bea knew her entirely too well. Already. She removed Natty’s dress and then sat her on a stool. “Right, you get those shoes and stockings off and fold your things up neatly.”
Without a glance to ensure her orders were being followed, Nurse Bea adjourned into the big bathroom, the one with the lead-lined tub, the water closet, the fireplace, and the windows overlooking the rose garden. Natty untied her shoes and heard water running in the basin, then the grate being lit. Presumably Nurse Bea had drawn the bath earlier. Natty didn’t like being watched in the bath, unless there were bubbles to hide under. She hoped Nurse Bea would understand, and she hoped there would be no new and horrible medicine to take.
Nurse Bea appeared at the door, a bath towel draped over her arm. “I don’t call that folded neatly,” she said, glancing at Natty’s things. Sighing pointedly, Natty refolded them. It didn’t matter if her things were folded neatly or not. It wasn’t as though she was ever allowed out to see people. “Neatness is always worth the trouble,” Nurse Bea said, as if reading her mind. “Now, come here.” She took Natty by the wrist again, unnecessarily, Natty thought, and led her into the big bathroom.
A fire was burning in the grate, but the bath had not been drawn. The armless upholstered chair that Miss Bea always sat in while Natty had her bath had been moved into the middle of the room. Next to it stood the side-table, and on the table a white, enameled bowl full of soapy water.
“I don’t like sponge baths,” Natty protested as Nurse Bea sat down in the chair. “Why can’t I have a regular bath?”
“Oh, you shall, when we’re done here.” Nurse Bea spread the towel over her lap and then patted it. “Over you get.”
Natty’s face burned. “What! Why? I haven’t done anything!”
Nurse Bea gripped her wrist and pulled her firmly across her knee. “Don’t be silly. You’re not well enough to have a spanking.” Natty struggled to get up. Nurse Bea tightened her grip. “However, if you insist on misbehaving…” Natty heard something being taken out of a container behind her. Something swished through the air, spraying her with water. Then that something fell with a light thwick on her bottom.
“Oh!”
“I can’t imagine that hurt very much,” said Nurse Bea, bringing the light twigs down again. It didn’t actually hurt, but Natty was incensed by the indignity. “However,” Nurse Bea continued, “a nursery willow switch can grow quite stingy without doing the slightest bit of damage.” She brought it down ten more times, building the sensation from a tingle to a sting, so much that Natty was quite glad when she stopped. “If I’ve made my point, perhaps we can begin.”
“What are you going to do to me?” Natty asked, employing her most suspicious and pitiable voice, the one she reserved for doctors she hoped to cow into mercy.
“You can drop that tone,” Nurse Bea said with a light laugh. “It doesn’t impress me. And I’m not going to do anything to you. You’re clearly in need of a wash-out. You’ll feel much better afterwards and entirely ready for sleep.”
Natty froze, dread engulfing her. “Castor oil makes me throw up,” she protested.
“I entirely disapprove of castor oil,” Nurse Bea said. She reached for the jar on the table. Natty felt something being smeared on her bottom. “Now hold still!” Nurse Bea admonished.
“You just took my temperature!”
“Stop being silly.” The switch came down again, quickly and sharply, twelve times, until Natty lay still. “Thank you.” Natty’s eyes stung. She wasn’t a little girl. She didn’t like being held across Nurse Bea’s lap as if she were. She was about to say as much when Nurse Bea took something from behind the enamel bowl and put it into the soapy water.
“What’s that?”
“Gracious, child, don’t tell me you’ve never had an enema this way.”
The burning in Natty’s face spread to every inch of her skin. Nurses had threatened her with that word before, but she wasn’t precisely sure what it meant. All she knew was that it was something embarrassing that happened to you when you were very bad.
“I’m not that bad! I’ve never been that bad!”
“Whatever are you on about, Natalie? Don’t tell me you’ve never had an enema?”
“No!”
“Heavens!” Nurse Bea sounded shocked. “Well, that explains quite a bit. No, don’t move. You’re having one now, and not a moment too soon.” Natty felt something cold against her bottom. It slid slowly inside, like the thermometer had. Then, a faint gurgling sound, and a warm and peculiar feeling inside her.
“Let me go!” Natty cried.
Slowly, the thing was pulled out of her, dripping some warm water, which Nurse Bea wiped off with a cloth.
“I’m not a baby!” Natty shouted, wriggling while keenly aware of the water in her bottom.
“You’re certainly behaving like one,” said Nurse Bea dryly. “Now hold still.” The switch fell again. “No one’s harming you.” Thwick. Thwick. “You’re simply getting an enema.” Thwick. Thwick. Natty held still. “Now just you concentrate on holding that until it’s time to sit on the toilet.”
Natty’s face burned at the mention of such unmentionable things. But the switch had resumed and was stinging again. Just as it got too stingy, it stopped, and she felt that thing pressing into her bottom. Slowly, Nurse Bea squeezed the water out. Her tummy started to hurt.
“I need to go now!”
“Nonsense. You only think you do.” Nurse Bea set down what Natty now saw was a kind of bulb and took up the switch. She used it lightly, but firmly enough to make Natty lie still. Just as the sting was building, she stopped and exchanged it for the bulb. “This is doing you a lot of good, I see. A lot of good.”
Natty simply did not know what to say. The idea that such a mortifying thing could be doing her good was simply outrageous. And it was very strange indeed the way Nurse Bea kept trading the just-stingy switch for the just-achy bulb. It was even stranger how she felt comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time held across Nurse Bea’s lap, the big white towel beneath her, wearing only her vest, her fingertips toying with the fringe of the rug.
She wasn’t counting how many times Nurse Bea used the bulb thing, but her tummy was hurting again, strongly, and she didn’t know how long she could wait. She held her breath.
“Is that cramping?” Nurse Bea asked. Natty nodded. “Don’t hold your breath, Natalie.” She put one hand on Natty’s bottom and with the other hand rubbed her back until the cramping subsided. “Right,” she said, lifting Natty to her feet. “Time to let that water out.”
Natty’s face was burning with embarrassment, hotter than any fever she could remember, as Nurse Bea took her by the wrist and led her to the toilet. Natty sat down, scowling, and looked away while Nurse Bea left the room.
Only Nurse Bea did not leave the room. “Come along, now, let’s have that water out.”
“I can’t go with you here!”
Nurse Bea pursed her lips. “You can and you will. You’re certainly not being left alone during your first enema, child.”
And Nurse Bea was right. The water was coming out, and Natty couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to. Nurse Bea watched her the whole time, not even looking away in consideration for her feelings. She didn’t even look away when it made horrible, embarrassing noises. Natty wanted to cry, but she was too focused on the pain in her tummy and the way it waxed and waned. Nurse Bea stood by her side, and at one point when Natty thought she was done, Nurse Bea told her to turn and look over her right shoulder. There was nothing there, but the turning made the water start again. Eventually, Nurse Bea agreed that she was indeed done. Natty felt very tired. Tired, and somewhat lighter. She reached for the toilet paper, but it wasn’t in its place.
“Up you get,” said Nurse Bea.
“I need the paper!”
But Nurse Bea was having none of that. Natty wasn’t sure if it was more embarrassing to have Nurse Bea wipe her bottom for her, as if she were a baby, or to have Nurse Bea look into the toilet bowl and declare that she certainly had needed that enema, more seriously than expected.
Then Nurse Bea was taking her to the chaise longue by the window and making her lie down and covering her with the towel. “Twenty minutes rest,” she announced, adjusting the watch on her lapel. She produced a book from her pocket. “Would you like reading to?”
Natty didn’t want to say yes. She didn’t want to cooperate in any way with Nurse Bea’s hideous regime. But she did like being read to. Not knowing what do say, she scowled.
“Right then,” Nurse Bea replied, opening the book, “Three Men in a Boat, by Jerome K. Jerome.”
They’d just gotten to the bit about housemaid’s knee, or something anyhow to do with a dog, or a seal that stole things and was naughty, and Natty had turned into the seal, a gray seal with no clothes that swam in the sea and climbed up onto the beach and onto the lap of someone who loved it, and the seal never had to rest, in fact never did rest, it just swam and swam through the whole of the sea, down in the dark and up on the pebbles, a little animal exploring a vast, wild world…
