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Phyllis felt old. She had been many places in her capacity as a nurse; some of which she kept fond in her memory, others less so. She knew her personality was commanding, if not a little overbearing sometimes, but she liked herself. She had come a long way in her life, had many experiences and had somehow always managed to stay true to herself. She knew her Mum would be proud if she could see that Phyllis had made a life for herself. She was proud too.
But all the pride in the world was not enough to protect oneself from feeling lonely. Phyllis knew that just as well.
When she had arrived at Nonnatus she had felt invigorated by finding so many young nurses working there. It was encouraging after witnessing several nurses of her own generation retiring. The realisation that between these young women and the nuns, she’d be in a marginalised position at Nonnatus, had only come to Phyllis after she had accepted the offer of a permanent position.
She was used to being an outsider. She had been one through all of her childhood, something other children and their parents had made sure she would never forget. ‘Bastard’ had been one of the kinder expressions they had whispered behind her back, or shouted at her face, making her feel like a true misfit. Her mother had taught her how to remain strong and soldier on. And the older she got, the less out of place she had felt.
Now the feeling was rearing its ugly head once again. She was a relic and she knew it. Her friends were gone, either because their lives had led them to different places or because their lives had come to early ends. There were things she and her friends had seen in their lifetimes that her young colleagues would never be able to imagine. Worlds were separating them from her.
Sure, some of the sisters had probably seen just as much as she had. Sister Monica Joan had probably seen even more. But they were nuns.
Phyllis had never thought much of religion. She remembered the parish she and her mother had been part of when she was young very well. It was fun at first. Everybody had been kind and welcoming, her Mum had been so relaxed whenever they got off the bus around the corner of the church. It was like going on holiday. But again, age taught Phyllis its lessons. As she matured, she was able to see through the whole pretence. Christian charity was all well and good, but none of it had been based on sincere kindness. She and Mum had been the parish’s charity case, nothing else. Phyllis never understood the true appeal of religion, she never again believed in God. She had no problem with the nuns, but they also lived in quite a different world than she did.
She heard laughter coming from the window above. Surely the girls were having another of their little cocktail parties. She had walked into their assembly a few times now, though they never asked her to join. Phyllis wondered if she would’ve even accepted. She wasn’t too fond of alcohol and cocktails, but the prospect of some company would’ve been nice. There were the Spanish classes she attended of course, and the exhibitions and other activities she pursued. But nothing could replace the feeling of belonging at the place you called home.
Phyllis sighed, blending out the shrill voice of Nurse Franklin telling a story. Leaning back on the bench in the little garden, she instead tried to clear her mind. Dwelling on her sorrows had never brought her anywhere in any case.
“Isn’t it a wonderful evening?” A melodious voice interrupted Phyllis’s solitude.
She hadn’t heard anyone approaching, but now found Sister Julienne standing mere feet away from her bench, the sun illuminating her from behind and reflecting on the white fabric of her wimple.
“It is indeed,” Phyllis replied, using a hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s bright light.
The nun, ever wearing a kind expression, gestured towards the bench. “Would you mind some company, Nurse Crane?”
If she were honest, she did mind. Phyllis had come out here to find some peace and quiet and to settle her mind. Yet, there was something about Sister Julienne that made it hard to deny her anything she asked for. Not that she ever asked for much. Before she knew it, Phyllis found herself shoving to the side, making room on the bench for Sister Julienne to sit on.
The nun thanked her in her quiet voice and Phyllis replied with a most sincere, “You’re welcome.”
They sat there together for a while, both quietly enjoying the sun. It could have been worse, Phyllis mused silently. It wasn’t that she disliked any of the nuns, but the thought of possibly having been interrupted by Sister Monica Joan or even Sister Evangelina while feeling this emotional, was significantly less welcome.
Sister Julienne’s company, it turned out, was quite pleasant. There was no polite chatter, no distracting questions or unwanted monologues. Just silence. A silence they both apparently enjoyed. Phyllis turned her head to cast a glance at the woman beside her. She might have been asleep for all the appearance, but her lips were curling into a smile, revealing that she was very much awake and feeling the moment.
“My brother and I used to sunbathe on the roof of our shed when we were young, challenging each other who would bear it the longest. I often let him win; it was always hard for him to be still for a longer period and he was so happy about each triumph. But I could’ve laid there forever. I relished the feeling of the sun on my skin. The warmth provides such an ethereal sense of security.” Sister Julienne sighed and opened her eyes.
Phyllis didn’t know what to make of this information, but it had her intrigued nonetheless.
“I don’t know about any of that, but I can affirm that nothing brightens the spirit like the sun. Though, mind you, I never could stay in it for long. It positively fries my skin!”
Sister Julienne chuckled softly at her remark, and Phyllis could feel herself smile in response. She wanted to ask where the sister had grown up, whether she had more siblings and if she was still close with them. It sounded that at least she had been when they were young. She tried to imagine what she might have looked like when she was young, without the habit, without the traces of time and age carved into her skin just as they were into Phyllis’s. But she didn’t ask any of these questions, feeling it’d be improper.
“My mother was the same, though she ignored it most of the time. She’d always burn up in the summer, claiming it was still worth it, and never once whined about it. She would have loved the sunscreen products they developed before the war.” There was no pressure in keeping the exchange alive, but Phyllis had felt the desire to do so.
Sister Julienne was watching her attentively, the wrinkles around her eyes indicating the shared amusement about Phyllis’s anecdote, but her eyes were curiously filled with understanding.
Memories of her mother often filled her mind when Phyllis was having bad days. Even with the tinge of sadness they brought, they always gave her new strength and inspiration. The way Sister Julienne was watching her, made Phyllis almost positive that she knew exactly what was going on inside her.
“The times we live in have seen so many changes for good and bad,” the nun commented.
If said by any other person, Phyllis might have waved the statement off as an empty phrase; a cliche. But there was some kind of comfort in the way Sister Julienne emphasised the ‘we’ in her phrase.
“And now they brought us here, to this moment.” The Sister continued. “Nurse Crane, Nonnatus House has been blessed with your presence. I am very glad that you decided to stay with us and hope you too can find joy among our little family.”
The words were spoken with so much warmth and kindness, that for a moment Phyllis felt utterly speechless, something that didn’t occur often.
“Thank you, Sister.” Her own voice was unusually quiet. “That is very kind of you.” She cleared her throat, pushing away the sentimental feelings and regaining her confidence. “I am positive that I will find a way to settle in.”
Sister Julienne smiled at her once more. It was a smile of joy, that nevertheless carried sincere understanding. “I am glad to hear that. I have complete faith in your person.”
Phyllis returned the smile. The words, full of religious spirituality, were strangely comforting.
At the end of the day, Phyllis felt very content. After the first exchange she and Sister Julienne had continued talking about the years gone past. It was interesting to talk to the nun and find out more about the person in the habit. Sister Julienne, Phyllis decided, was a particularly compelling character. When the sun disappeared behind the rooftops they had headed back inside, each going their different directions. But their conversations kept echoing in Phyllis’s head throughout the whole evening. She was certain she had made her first friend among the Nonnatus staff. She no longer felt like a stranger. It had been silly of her to brush off the nuns because of their habits. Beneath that, they were still women and religious matters aside, these women were just as interesting as any other women.
Phyllis smiled at herself in the mirror, as she attended to her roll winders before bed. She was still old. And it would take time until she’d and the younger nurses would find their common ground. But she no longer felt lonely. She felt at home.