Rosie Dixon - Confessions of a Night Nurse

I grab Mum’s dressing gown from the hook on the door and shove it into her arms as I push her out into the corridor. I should be getting some kind of medal for the efforts I am making.

“And now you three can get your clothes on, get downstairs, and get your bikes off Mrs Wilson’s lawn.”

“Who’s she?”

“Must be the old tart next door,” says Ted. “She looking for trouble, is she?”

“I’m looking for trouble,” I say. “If you don’t get out of here immediately, I’m going to ring for the police.”

If I had expected my audience to bash their heads together in a mad rush for the door I would be disappointed.

“You know what your trouble is, darling?” says Ted. “You’re too tense.”

“Up tight is what he means,” says Nutter, folding his arms round me. “You want to relax more.”

“Let me go!” I say. It is awful because I can feel his thing pressing against my tummy. I try to struggle but he is terribly strong. Hairy, too.

“She needs a little relieving massage,” says Ted. “Bring her over here.” He stretches out an arm and pulls me down onto the bed.

“You touch me and I’ll scream,” I warn him.

“And disturb all the neighbours? You don’t want to do that.”

He runs his hand over my stomach and I notice that he has incredibly hairy wrists. On some men I find that quite sexy.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I say.

“Massage,” says Ted.

“Yeah,” says Flash. Of the three I like him the least. Not, of course, that I would pay for any of the others to go to charm school.

“You’re getting the counterpane filthy,” I say.

“For you, Princess, I’ll take it off. Now. Why don’t you do something like that?” Before I can say anything he has put his hand up my skirt and is pulling at my tights and panties. “I like these long skirts, don’t you, Nutter?”

“Yeh, they keep your neck warm.”

I am in big trouble. If I start screaming, all the neighbours will hear and Mrs Wilson will call the police. There is also Natalie to consider. By lying here and letting them do these awful things to me I am protecting her. It is terrible but—

“Help me peel her,” says Ted.

“Yeah,” says Flash.

Their crude hands force down my skirt while by word and gesture I try to convey my revulsion.

“Bet you’re feeling better already,” says Nutter as he kneels across me and starts popping open the buttons of my silk blouse. They are covered in fabric and I can just see the problems I am going to have getting the grease stains out. Nutter is half naked and in a matter of minutes the person wearing most on the bed is Flash. He has on a grey string vest which might one day have been white. Clothes are littered all over the room and I can see my lovely plaid skirt lying in a crumbled heap on the floor. I am so distressed that I can hardly find the strength to push Ted away. His disgustingly lithe, muscle-packed body looms over mine and he begins to gnaw one of my nipples as if it is a wad of chewing tobacco. On all sides, pussy-pummellers menace me like loaded weapons.

“Right, darling,” says Ted. “Cop this.”

“If you’re going to do that,” I say to Flash, “take your boots off the pillowcase.”

Honestly, the things I have to go through for my sister.

It was awful getting raped. I mean—not so much getting raped as all the embarrassment it caused. Especially with Geoffrey. It was a pity that he had to come barging in to say that the police were in the hall just as Nutter was—perhaps I had better not say what Nutter was doing. I don’t really like to think about it myself.

As you can imagine, I was in a terrible state. I mean, after all I had gone through, to find that the police were downstairs was really too much. And so sneaky, too. I thought they were supposed to ring bells and all that kind of thing. At least Natalie had been spared. This thought was some comfort to me in the trying days to come.

I will always remember the expression on Geoffrey’s face as he slumped back against Mum’s dressing table and watched Nutter and Flash trying to put on the same pair of pants—I think they were mine in any case.

“Don’t just stand there, Geoffrey,” I have to tell him. “Come and help straighten this counterpane.”

“You swines!” He can be so emotional sometimes it is quite embarrassing. He hurls himself at Ted and collects another punch on the nose as the hideous trio make a bolt for the stairs.

“Geoffrey, please! If you’re going to start bleeding all over everything again you might as well go downstairs.” I mean, as if I did not have enough problems.

Geoffrey is practically wringing his hands. “Did they—? Did you—? Were you—?”

“It’s no good crying over spilt milt—I mean, milk,” I say, fluffing up the pillows. “Pull yourself together, Geoffrey. It’s not the end of the world. Anyway I don’t see what you’re getting so agitated about. I had to put up with all the unpleasantness.”

For a moment I think he is going to burst into tears. It is a shame really because I am only trying to be level-headed like Nurse Dubotaki on the Dr Eradlik show. Just “picking up the pieces” as she would put it.

Downstairs there are more policemen than you would find in a raid on a strip club and by the time they leave, the front garden is churned up worse than Mrs Wilson’s lawn—rotten old bag! Apparently some of the neighbours reported a man trying to crawl through the toilet window while the rest of the calls were just about the noise. Anyway, six police cars turn up which is considered a local record. They are very unhappy about Jim Whats-his-name? in the toilet because they think he has been trying to flush acid round the bend. When they break the door down they discover otherwise. Very unpleasant it is too. The bloke who got jammed in the window is not very happy either because somebody pulled his trousers down and put boot polish all over his bottom. Some people do have a funny sense of humour, don’t they?

By the time the last police dog has finished savaging the front room cushions and Natalie and I are left alone it is three o’clock in the morning and the house looks as if it has been used to store hurricanes.

“Well, I hope you’re satisfied,” I say. “That was a nice party, wasn’t it? The house wrecked and the neighbours already forming a queue to complain to Mum and Dad. Have you seen Mrs Wilson’s lawn? It looks as if it’s been used for a ploughing match.”

“Just our luck that it had to rain,” sighs Natalie.

“ Our luck?” I laugh hollowly. “I must have been round the bend to let you throw this party. Where do you meet some of the people you invited? That Ted creature, for instance. He attacked me, you know.”

“Why? Wouldn’t you let him out?”

“I’m serious, Natalie. I was subjected to a physical assault by all three of them.”

“If you mean raped, why don’t you say so?”

“It’s not a word I like to use out loud.” She is very free with her language is Natalie. I can feel myself blushing.

“Why didn’t you tell the police?”

“How could I? You know the scandal would break Mum’s heart. I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Not. But you could snitch my boyfriend.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Natalie.” It is amazing how people can react against you when you’ve tried to do your best, isn’t it?”

“I’m not being ridiculous. You’re just a lousy hypocrite. You fancied him yourself.”

For a moment I am speechless. How could she imagine me falling for that gib, hairy, muscley, over-developed sex maniac? The whole idea is too ridiculous for words.

“If you must know, I did it—I mean, I submitted in order to protect you,” I say.