by Emma Fraser
Apart from her anxiety about Archie, Jessie was worried about Lady Dorothea. She had taken a week’s leave to attend her brother’s funeral, but since she’d come back she’d been weak and listless. Jessie was worried that she had returned to duty too soon. She was keeping an eye on her, but it was difficult when there was so much to do.
To her relief, Dr Ludlow needed someone to collect supplies from Paris and agreed that Jessie, who had had only one day off since she’d been there, could go too. She sent a message to Archie, asking him to meet her in the Tuileries gardens.
He grinned broadly when he spotted her sitting on a bench near the fountain. He wouldn’t be so happy when he heard what she had to say.
‘Where to today, Jess?’
‘I’m content to stay here and admire the Louvre,’ she replied, reluctant to spoil his mood. ‘It’s hard to imagine how big it must be inside. They could fit the whole of Skye into just one wing. And did you see the Gare du Nord? It’s even grander than Edinburgh Castle and it’s only a railway station.’
‘One day I shall build houses that are even more elegant than these fancy Parisian apartments. After the war, I shall send for you and we shall stay in the grandest hotel in Paris. Would you like that?’
‘I’d love it.’
He picked her up by the waist and swung her around. ‘And you shall have any dress you wish and your own motor-car. Servants, too, of course. They’ll curtsy to you and you’ll say, “A cup of tea, please,” in that fancy accent you have now from spending time with aristocrats.’
‘I don’t speak like them!’ Jessie protested.
‘Yes, you do. A little. But to me, sister, you were always a gentlewoman.’
‘Thank you, kind sir.’ Jessie bobbed him a curtsy.
Despite everything that had happened, it seemed that Archie, at least, was happy. But she could no longer put off what she had to tell him. ‘I have news for you, Archie. It concerns Lady Dorothea and her family.’
His eyes grew watchful. ‘You’ve come to care about her, haven’t you?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Jessie said. ‘She’s a good woman, an honourable one.’ She shuddered. ‘It makes it so much worse that I’m keeping secrets from her. I doubt she’ll ever forgive me, should she find out.’
‘There’s no need for her to know, is there?’
‘That’s what I have to tell you. Lord Charles has been found – at least his remains have – in a shallow grave.’
She glanced at him. He was motionless, his face carved in stone.
‘How was he found?’
Jessie’s skin prickled. He didn’t seem surprised to hear Charles had been killed.
‘Does it matter? What is important is that he must have been murdered and now the Earl of Glendale will pursue his death with new vigour.’
Archie’s eyes darkened. ‘Maxwell deserved to die.’
It was as if someone had poured freezing water down her neck. ‘What do you mean?’
He placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘Remember what Dad always said? A man without honour is not a man at all. Do you believe I am a man of honour?’
She nodded.
‘Then all you need to know is that I did only what a man of honour would have done.’
Dear God in Heaven. ‘You know what happened to him, don’t you? Please tell me you had nothing to do with it.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Can’t or won’t? Lord, Archie, you know I would never betray you.’
His mouth twisted. ‘Even if you think your brother a murderer?’
‘But you do know something, don’t you? I’m tired of these evasions and half-truths, Archie. Tell me the truth.’
He gripped her arm. ‘I can’t tell you what truly happened, Jessie. You must trust me.’
‘Must?’ She shook her head. ‘Why can’t you trust me enough to tell me the truth?’ She tugged herself free of his grip. ‘I won’t see you again. Not until you’re prepared to tell me what really happened. All of it. Every last thing. Until you can see that you owe me that…’ She blinked away angry tears. ‘You must make your choice Archie. Your honour or your sister.’
When he didn’t reply, she knew she had her answer. ‘I won’t come and see you again,’ she said softly. ‘It wasn’t safe before and it is even less so now.’ She took his hand in hers. ‘I ask you one more time to tell me that you are innocent of that man’s death.’
When he remained silent, she touched his beloved face with a fingertip. ‘Then it is goodbye, Archie. I pray to God to keep you safe.’
She left him in the gardens. When he didn’t call after her or try to change her mind, she thought her heart would shatter into a thousand pieces.
Why wouldn’t he tell her what had happened? He hadn’t denied killing Charles but she couldn’t believe he was a murderer. He had to be protecting someone. And there was only one person he’d risk his life and liberty for: Isabel MacKenzie.
As she walked along the Seine, her head was spinning with unanswered questions. Unless Archie told her the truth, she was powerless to help him.
Dr Inglis was a great deal smaller than Jessie had imagined, but such vitality and energy flowed from her, it made her appear ten feet tall. Once she had inspected the abbey and declared herself happy, she called a meeting of all the staff who weren’t on duty. The dining hall was buzzing as everyone took their seats. Some had already met the famous doctor but those who hadn’t were looking forward to meeting the leader of the Scottish Women’s Hospitals.
Dr Ludlow waited until supper – a simple meal of bread and cheese but with roast pork in Dr Inglis’s honour – was over, before rapping on her cup with a spoon.
‘Ladies,’ she said, as a hush fell over the room. Jessie smiled: in the time she’d been there she’d never heard all the women quiet at once. ‘May I introduce Dr Inglis to those who haven’t had the privilege of meeting her? I know you are aware of what she has achieved in a very short time, but there is more to be done.’ She glanced down at the woman on her right. I shall let Dr Inglis tell you more.’
There was thunderous applause as Dr Inglis rose to her feet. She waited, a smile on her austere face, for the clapping and cheers to die away.
‘Good evening. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart and on behalf of the government of France for joining us. To date, the Scottish Women’s Hospital has three units and all are leaders in their field. We have the lowest incidence of infection and amputation.’ She waited as the listening women applauded again. ‘That is, as you will know, no small feat given the conditions we are working in. But our work is far from over. The war shows no sign of ending and we have many volunteers back in the United Kingdom eagerly awaiting the opportunity to join us. However,’ she looked around the room, seeming to pause and hold each woman’s eye, ‘we have lost staff too. Our unit in Serbia has been particularly badly hit. Two doctors and three nurses have died from typhus.’
Jessie’s heart thudded against her ribs. Might Isabel have been one of the doctors who had died? Even if she had something to do with Lord Maxwell’s death, she hoped not.
‘Therefore,’ Dr Inglis continued, ‘I am here to ask for volunteers to go there to make up the numbers. The abbey is so well run that it would be better for new recruits to start here and some of our more experienced staff to go to Serbia. I will not make any of you go. I simply ask, at this moment, for volunteers. I do not pretend that whoever goes will find life there easy, or without its dangers. If you choose to volunteer, I prefer that you do so in the full knowledge of the risk you will be taking. I don’t wish you to make up your mind immediately. I would prefer you to sleep on it, or come and speak to me about it, if you prefer, but I should tell you that I plan to spend time at the unit myself once I have finished here.’
Dr Inglis had barely drawn breath before Lady Dorothea was on her feet. ‘I’ll go, if you’ll have me.’
Dr Inglis consulted with Dr Ludlow before she replied. ‘There’s little need for shovers in Ser
bia at the moment. I’ve asked for funds to buy motor ambulances, and when we have them I shall need you to drive them. In the meantime, we require you here.’
Lady Dorothea sighed, but she knew, as did they all, that Dr Inglis, their leader, had the final say.
Jessie raised her hand. ‘I’ll go.’ She couldn’t bear to stay in France, not if she had to see Lady Dorothea every day, knowing she was deceiving her, and not if she couldn’t see Archie.
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Evans sprang to her feet. ‘I should like to go too,’ she said quietly.
A slow smile crossed Dr Inglis’s face erasing the fatigue etched on her face. ‘In that case,’ she said, ‘it’s settled. Pack your belongings and be ready to leave in a day or two.’
Later, Jessie wrote to Archie telling him of her new address. Although she was still angry and hurt that he wouldn’t confide in her, she couldn’t bring herself to leave without letting him know where she was. She hesitated over whether or not to tell him that a couple of doctors had died, although she had been able to establish that Isabel hadn’t been one of them. In the end she decided against it. If he knew staff were dying in Serbia, she wouldn’t put it past him to come to the abbey to try to stop her going.
They had to pack while still working the twelve-hour shifts, but as Jessie had little with her, apart from her uniform and the small woollen blanket that had belonged to Seamus, it didn’t take her long to gather her belongings together. She was glad that Evans was going too. A woman with little imagination but relentless good humour, she was easy and pleasant company. In addition, despite her remarkable aptitude for falling asleep whenever and wherever she got the opportunity, she was a hard and willing worker. Since she’d come to Jessie’s ward, she had never once complained. The injured men adored her. Although she was plain, and prone to reading aloud to them from her Bible, most seemed to find something of those they had left behind in her kind and gentle manner.
But most of all, Jessie admitted, she liked having her as a friend.
Chapter 39
Serbia, March 1915
The journey took days rather than the hours it should have done. The smell of decay mingling with disinfectant permeated the stuffy train and Jessie was grateful when at last they arrived in Kragujevatz. They were met at the station by a woman who introduced herself as Sister Maud Tully.
‘Are we glad to see you!’ she said, with a wide smile. ‘Although I wish there were ten of you.’
‘Is it very bad?’ Jessie asked.
‘Quite, quite horrible, but we’re coping, which is more than can be said for the Serbian hospitals.’
A bullock cart with a white cross painted on one side and a large wooden cross at the front trundled past.
‘That’s a death-cart,’ Maud said, her blue eyes troubled. ‘You’ll get used to seeing them day and night, unfortunately.’
Evans brought her ever-present Bible out of her pocket, kissed it and bent her head in prayer.
‘If she’s going to do that every time we pass a corpse,’ Maud whispered, with a mischievous smile, ‘we’re never going to get to our hospital.’ Nevertheless, she waited until Evans was ready to move on.
‘Dr Bradshaw has put you both on night duty on the relapsing fever ward – it’s also where the hopeless cases are sent. I’m afraid we’re so short-staffed that you’ll have to start tonight. I do day shifts there, so I shall be giving you the report. I’ll let you poor things get settled first, though.’
At seven thirty, after a supper of vegetable stew and beef tea, Jessie and Evans presented themselves for duty.
Maud looked up from her desk, her bright eyes shadowed with fatigue. ‘Good. Did you manage to sleep?’
Although Jessie had managed only an hour or two, she was certain that Evans would have had more.
‘Most of the men are doing well. There’s just two I’m worried about – they have injuries as well as fever. Dr MacKenzie will be joining us for a ward round as soon as she’s finished in theatre. Evans, would you be a darling and see to the men’s Oxo?’
Jessie started at Isabel’s name. Although she’d known she would come across her, she hadn’t expected to see her so soon. She waited until Evans had hurried away.
‘Dr Isabel MacKenzie?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Do you know her? She’s one of the surgical stars and a dear friend.’
‘It was Dr MacKenzie who helped me join the unit,’ Jessie said.
‘Then she’ll be delighted to make your reacquaintance.’ Maud glanced over Jessie’s shoulder. ‘In fact, here she is.’
Jessie turned. It had been months since she’d last seen Isabel and she was shocked at how much weight she had lost. But they were all much thinner than they had been when they’d arrived on the continent.
‘Dr MacKenzie, I believe you know Sister Stuart,’ Maud said, with a tip of her head. ‘She and Elizabeth Evans, an orderly, have come from the unit at Royaumont to help, brave souls.’
‘Why, Jessie,’ Isabel held out her hand, ‘it’s so nice to see you again.’
‘And you, Doctor.’
‘We’ll catch up later,’ Isabel said, ‘once we’ve seen the patients. I’m sure Sister Tully’s looking forward to her supper and bed.’
‘Sister Tully can think of nothing she’d like more,’ Maud replied, with a smile. ‘Shall we make a start with the two boys I’m most concerned about?’
They stopped at the bed of a young man whose head was covered with a bandage with only a slit for his mouth. He was lying listlessly, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the sheet.
‘This is Andreas,’ Maud said. ‘He’s an Austrian soldier who was shot in the head. He also has relapsing fever.’
Isabel said something to him that Jessie guessed was in German. The young soldier smiled a little at the sound of her voice.
‘How long has he been in hospital?’ Jessie asked.
‘I can’t remember,’ Andreas replied, in English. ‘Many months, I think. Only a few days here.’
His hand snaked out from under the covers and Isabel took it. For a moment Jessie had a vision of the young man pointing a gun at Tommy and pulling the trigger, but she pushed the image away. This boy was someone’s brother, someone’s son, perhaps someone’s husband. ‘You’re far from home,’ Jessie said gently.
His mouth trembled and she suspected he was trying not to cry. ‘Please, Doctor, would you do something for me?’
‘I’ll try,’ Isabel soothed.
‘Could you write to my fiancée? She hasn’t heard from me since I was captured. I can’t see to write myself and the sisters don’t know German. No one else will do it for me.’
‘The Serbian orderlies tolerate the Serbian-speaking Austrians – many of them were neighbours before the war – but they loathe the true Austrians or the “Schwaba”, as they call them,’ Maud whispered to Jessie.
‘Of course I will, Andreas,’ Isabel replied, ‘but I’d like to look at your wound. When I’ve finished with my other patients I’ll return and write your letter for you.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you.’
When Maud unwrapped Andreas’s bandages, Jessie had to bite her lip to stop herself crying out. The soldier’s face was partly missing – his nose was gone and part of his cheekbone was exposed. He stared up at the roof with unseeing eyes as Isabel inspected the wound. She shook her head and Maud wrapped a clean bandage around his injuries.
After Isabel had spoken to him in German, they stepped away from the bed.
‘There’s nothing more to be done for him except to make him as comfortable as possible,’ Isabel said. ‘That letter to his fiancée needs to be written quickly.’
The next patient, two beds down from Andreas, was a Serbian soldier who, according to Maud, had been transferred earlier that day. He, too, had been in the Serbian military hospital for several weeks.
‘This is Milo,’ Maud said, drawing the screens around him. ‘I need you to look at his back, Dr MacKenzie.
’
Milo, who was on his side, looked at them with wide, frightened eyes.
‘We’ll be as gentle as we can,’ Maud said softly. The boy just blinked. He probably had no idea what Maud was saying but must have heard the pity in her voice.
When she lifted his pyjama top, Jessie bit her lip again. She was used to seeing the most awful wounds, but this was so much worse than anything she’d seen. Milo had a bedsore that must have been there for months. Almost a third of the skin on his back had fallen away, exposing the vertebrae of his lower spine.
‘What do you think?’ Maud whispered to Isabel. ‘Is there anything we can do for him?’
‘I’ll consult with the other doctors, but, no, I’m sorry, Sister Tully. I think it’s too late. With some of the others we can excise the infected flesh if there’s enough tissue left to heal, but there is nothing left here to cut away.’
Maud’s eyes filled. ‘He’s only a baby. He doesn’t even cry – he just lies there looking at me with his sad eyes. I can’t bear it.’
Isabel took her arm. ‘You must bear it, for his sake. I’ll ask Dr Lightfoot to have a look but I’m certain she’ll say the same as I. We can’t save everyone, Maud, no matter how much we wish to.’
‘I wanted to save this one. He reminds me of my brother. They’re of a similar age. Milo’s only sixteen. This beastly, senseless, stupid war.’
‘I hate it too,’ Isabel said. ‘But we have to do our best for those we can help.’ She walked to the other side of the bed, and crouched by Milo’s side. ‘I’ll be back,’ she said. ‘It is going to be all right. Dobra – you understand?’
Jessie found her voice. ‘We can’t just let him die!’
Maud looked at her sympathetically. ‘None of us wants any of our boys to die. If only we had got to him sooner he might have had a chance, but if Dr MacKenzie says nothing can be done, it usually means nothing can be done. She’s developed quite a reputation here for saving hopeless cases.’