‘Oh, good God! what difficulties you will have.’
The second officer followed him silently. The quartermaster-sergeant, who had been present all the time, pretended that he did not know his way round the building, so Dr. Garrett Anderson and Dr. Flora Murray set out alone on a tour of inspection. From what they saw they concluded that, if the hospital were to open in May, ‘marking time’ must cease, and they therefore wrote to the Director General, requesting that they might be put in charge at once. By return of post came their instructions, and on the 22nd of March 1915 the Military Hospital, Endell Street, was handed over to them by the chastened and protesting colonel. There remained, to superintend the structural alterations, a captain in the R.E. and the contractor’s clerk of works, Mr. Cook. The latter was a civilian and a real patriot. He was destined to become a great ally and, incidentally, a staunch feminist. The rapid progress made in the work was due to his energy and devotion.
The premises were encumbered by the presence of much worn-out and obsolete furniture—the discarded property of the Guardians. A certain portion of it could be made use of, and this was picked out and cleaned for the wards or the quarters of the staff; but a great deal of it was useless, and urgent requests were made for its immediate removal. It included several hundred old flock mattresses; and these, by direction of the above-mentioned colonel, had been stored in the laundry. This was a fine, large room, and it was filled up to the door with dirty and somewhat damp bedding. The danger of heating was obvious, and in addition the laundry itself was the only available place for a linen store. The colonel and the R.E. captain had decided that the hospital would not require this room, and the cleaning of it had been cut out of the estimates. As an alternative they suggested that linen, bedding and clothing for six hundred men should be kept in a little basement store. After much opposition and delay, it was sanctioned that the laundry should be used, and renewed efforts were made to induce the Guardians to remove their material. More than one visit was made to the Clerk of the Guardians before the name of the official who was really responsible was elicited. It slipped out quite inadvertently in conversation one morning. The Clerk had no sooner said it than he regretted it, for he was promptly required to telephone and see if this gentleman was available.
It was Saturday morning and though he was in his office, he was leaving early to catch a train. As the doctors hastily left the room, they heard the Clerk, in accents of dismay, saying down the telephone, ‘They have started!’ Arrived at the other office, it was clear that the hall-porter and secretaries were anxious to prevent an interview with their chief; but the doctors, instead of sitting down in the waiting-room with a closed door, as they were invited to do, followed closely on the heels of the distressed porter and were so close behind him that they could not be refused entrance to the office and the presence of the Chairman. He had his hat on, his bag in his hand, and in another second he would have been gone.
‘I have a train to catch,’ he cried.
‘We won’t keep you a moment: just give orders to have all that furniture and bedding removed.’
‘I will attend to it on Monday, certainly.’
‘Monday is too late. A telephone message now, please.’
He hesitated, looked at them standing between him and the door, laughed and capitulated.
‘All right, ring them up,’ he said to his secretary, and fled to catch his train. But the women remained to hear the order sent through.