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Trixie walked up the staircase of Nonnatus House, heading for her room. It had been a long day and she was longing for sleep.
She was surprised to see that the door to her bedroom was ajar, light flooding out of the room. Sounds of drawers opening and things moving made her suspicious. Patsy was out with a patient, so she wondered who was in there. For the briefest of moments she worried that an intruder might have slipped past unnoticed and was currently ransacking her room.
“Hello?” she said tentatively, stepping carefully towards the door. “Who’s in there?”
There was no response, and the sounds kept coming.
Her heart beat fast and hard in her chest as Trixie peeked through the open door. She let out a sigh of relief and her shoulders released their tension when she saw who the mystery person was.
“Sister Monica Joan, whatever are you doing?” she asked with a tone of mild admonishment. All drawers were pulled out and cabinet doors open, and while nothing was on the floor, the elder Sister had clearly been going through her personal belongings.
“I am in search of a most particular item,” she said without looking up, showing no signs of stopping her search.
“Sister,” Trixie said firmly, “you can’t go around searching through other people's belongings like this. If there’s something I have that you require then I would be more than happy to help you, but you need to ask.”
Finally Monica Joan looked up. “I am in need of alcohol.”
Trixie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. This was not what she had expected.
“Preferably whiskey, but something else will do,” Monica Joan continued, turning back to her search.
“Why have you come in here for that? I thought Mother Jesu Emmanuel replenished your stores every now and then? For your poker night whiskey sours, brandy for the Christmas pudding, that sort of thing?”
“It has been deemed ‘unsuitable’ to keep such beverages in Nonnatus House by our new superior,” Monica Joan said, the displeasure palpable in her voice.
Trixie sighed. Sister Ursula.
“Or rather, she has decreed that they shall be kept under lock and key. A key which only she possesses access to.”
“I see,” Trixie said, nodding slowly. “But why are you looking for whiskey now?”
As if on cue, a volley of harsh coughs echoed down the hallway from where Sister Julienne lay struck down by the flu.
“For her,” Monica Joan said with a meaningful look.
When Trixie looked confused, Monica Joan elaborated.
“Sister Julienne has never been one to accept help when unwell. Always so… careful, shall we say, with resources whenever it regards her own wellbeing. But Sister Evangelina found that if she prepared a hot toddy, Sister Julienne would not be able to refuse it. The ingredients had already been mixed, and could not be returned to their component parts. A most ingenious ruse! And it always helped with her congestion.”
Trixie smiled fondly at the story. Now that she thought of it, she had a faint memory of seeing Sister Evangelina in the kitchen preparing such a concoction not long after she had arrived and Julienne was suffering from a nasty head cold.
Trixie was proud of the fact that since her first meeting at AA well over a year ago now, she had not touched any alcohol whatsoever. But she was more than happy to get involved in this noble initiative.
“Well you can stop looking through my things, because I don’t have any alcohol,” she said, thinking. “Patsy is more of a Campari-girl and that might not work too well, but if we find something else I’m sure she’d be happy to donate to a good cause. Why don’t you ask Nurse Crane while I see what Patsy’s got in store?”
In the end Trixie had found a bottle of gin, and they decided that would have to do. Trixie helped Monica Joan sneak it down to the kitchen, making sure the coast was clear.
Monica Joan put a kettle to boil and fetched honey, while Trixie took charge of cutting a lemon. Once the water was warm, Monica Joan started mixing the ingredients.
“Oh, I think that’s plenty,” Trixie said, grabbing the bottle from Monica Joan’s hand mid-pour and tilting it away from the glass. “We want to get her sleeping, not sloshed,” she said, suppressing a chuckle.
Her smile faded when another set of coughs could be heard from upstairs. Julienne really was quite unwell, and they had all been worried.
Keen to avoid a potential shattered glass and burns, Trixie offered to carry the warm beverage upstairs. As they reached the upstairs corridor Trixie had time to think that Monica Joan was heading in the wrong direction and was about to correct her, when she realised her mistake.
When Sister Ursula appeared and took over the role of superior, she had also seen fit to take over Sister Julienne’s bedroom. This meant that Julienne had been forced to stay in the room which had belonged to Sister Evangelina.
Of course Julienne had not complained. But the mere thought of the injustice of it all made Trixie’s blood boil once more.
Monica Joan stepped through the door into the much smaller room and switched on the bedside lamp. Trixie placed the glass on the bedside table and threw a professional eye on the woman on the bed.
Julienne was propped up on several pillows to aid her breathing. She had dark bruises around her eyes, and apart from a feverish flush on her cheek she was about as pale as the sheets she was laying on.
She looked up and offered a smile as they entered, but it was clear that she was very tired.
“How are you feeling?” Trixie asked.
“Not worse,” Julienne replied. Her voice was hoarse and crackly. It did not pass Trixie by what she wasn’t saying.
“And not better,” Monica Joan said gently, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“I-” Julienne began, but something caught in her throat and triggered a fit of wet coughs. Her lungs crackled and Trixie winced in sympathy.
Once she finished she made to speak again, but Monica Joan held up a hand to silence her.
“You have not been sleeping well,” she said matter-of-factly. “This infernal cough keeps you up, giving you no respite.” She reached for the glass. “Our dear departed Sister knew that sometimes the right medicine did not come from a pill or syringe. The ingredients and proportions may not be quite the same as hers, but I assure you that it was made with just as much love.” Monica Joan offered Julienne the glass.
Julienne stared back at her in silence, her eyes glistening, then welling up completely. Her bottom lip trembled and a silent tear rolled down her cheek. Then another. And another.
Trixie felt herself get tearful as well. The loss of Evangelina was still so raw, and with all that had happened, none of them had really had time to process it or properly grieve.
“You remembered,” Julienne finally managed, her voice cracking. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, whispering a quiet, “Thank you.”