by Kate Eastham
‘She doesn’t really know but she thinks that he might have ended up on the ship by accident.’
‘Some accident,’ said Tom, ‘if he’s ended up out here.’
‘Well, she thinks that he might be here somewhere so she asked me to look for him.’
‘Right,’ said Tom, pondering on it for a few moments. ‘That’s a very tricky situation, seeing as the army don’t even know who’s here and who isn’t. So I don’t even know where you would start to ask. You’re sure he’s somewhere out here?’
‘She thinks so and he would have come on a ship from Liverpool. His name’s Frank,’ she said, looking at him and hoping there might be some light of recognition on his face.
But there was nothing. ‘Nah, sorry … And if he did come all the way up here on a ship and he wasn’t army or one of us orderlies, doctors or nurses, then why the hell would he stay?’
Ada felt the fear that had been buzzing in her head settle like lead in her stomach. Of course he was right; she was clutching at straws, but what else could she do? She felt exhausted now and sat quietly next to Tom as they bumped along, holding on to the side of the wagon. She hoped and prayed that Frank was safe and even if he wasn’t here in the Crimea he was somewhere in Scutari or on his way back to Liverpool.
Suddenly Prince pricked up his ears and they both jumped in their seats as a loud voice called from behind, ‘Good morning, Mr Dunderdale! And hello to you again, young lady.’
They knew even before they turned round that it was Mrs Fitzwilliam. She was moving at speed astride her black horse and within seconds she was pulling up beside Ada and slowing to the pace of the cart.
Ada had only ever seen the horses that delivered coal or plodded the streets of Liverpool in a steady way, so the sight of this beautiful but fierce-looking creature of Mrs Fitzwilliam’s was like something from a story book. It fascinated but scared her all at the same time, chomping and frothing at the bit, with its wild-looking eyes darting around. She could see the tension in the muscles of its silky black neck as it strained to be off, almost dancing on the spot. Mrs Fitzwilliam expertly held it at the right pace, and Ada wondered how anyone could have the courage to sit up on top of such a horse.
There seemed to be no stopping Mrs Fitzwilliam as she launched into conversation. ‘On such a fine morning I thought I’d take old Horatio here out to stretch his legs and maybe go and have a look at the camp. Sounds like they’re fairly going at it up there today, Tom.’ Pausing briefly to draw breath, she went on, ‘At least now they’re fighting from the trenches the horses aren’t in as much danger. I can’t begin to describe to you, young lady, what it’s like to survey the field of battle and see so many soldiers and horses ripped apart – literally ripped apart. After the last big battle I made sure that I went round with my revolver just in case any of them needed to be put out of their misery.’
‘She means the horses,’ muttered Tom, just in case there was some misunderstanding.
‘This is a terrible war, Mr Dunderdale, a terrible war.’
Horatio was by this time pulling hard at the reins, starting to snort and dance sideways.
‘He needs to be off!’ shouted Mrs Fitzwilliam and with a strong squeeze of her legs and a cry of ‘Rule, Britannia!’ she shot off up the road ahead of them, leaving nothing but a trail of dust in the morning air.
Tom shook his head and smiled. ‘She’s quite something, that Mrs Fitzwilliam, though. Regularly comes into the ward with boxes of food and treats for the patients. She brought in some flowers that she’d found out riding the other week – some of the old boys nearly wept to see such colour on the hospital ward.’
Tom fell silent for a few moments then said quietly, almost to himself, ‘Heart of gold, that woman, heart of gold.’
Back up at the hospital, there was very little brightness but a great deal of agitation from a certain quarter due to an administrative difficulty. Such difficulty, in fact, that Miss Smith had pounded her desk any number of times, causing the papers to jump and the ink pot to spill.
‘I know nothing about a new nurse!’ she exclaimed to Mary Roberts. ‘Nobody told me about a new nurse. What is her name?’
‘Ada Houston.’
‘Ada who?’
‘—ston,’ said Mary Roberts. ‘Ada Houston,’ wishing now that she’d kept the whole thing quiet, particularly since the girl seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. ‘She has a letter of recommendation from Miss Nigh—’
‘I don’t care if she has a letter of recommendation from Queen Victoria herself, I have had no correspondence about the appointment, none at all!’ shouted Miss Smith. ‘Find her, find her now and bring her to me. This is highly irregular. I bet those people at Scutari have something to do with this. Always sending us their flotsam and jetsam.’
Mary had learnt through the months of working with Miss Smith that it was of little use to try and explain or discuss. She nodded and replied, ‘Yes, Miss Smith,’ and retreated to the door. As soon as she gained the corridor, however, and closed the door behind her there was another shriek from inside the room.
‘Sister Roberts!’
‘Yes, Miss Smith.’
‘Where’s my egg? I didn’t get my egg this morning.’
‘I’ll look into it directly, Miss Smith,’ she shouted through the closed door before hitching up her skirt and running off down the corridor.
In the end, it didn’t take Mary Roberts long to find the girl. She was unloading supplies from the wagon with Tom Dunderdale. ‘Ah, Mr Dunderdale, I see that you have made use of our new nurse straight away.’
‘Just using my initiative, Sister Roberts,’ said Tom with a grin on his face. ‘Don’t want anybody complaining that we orderlies can’t do that, now do we?’
‘Indeed,’ said Sister Roberts. ‘However, Mr Dunderdale, alongside the use of initiative also comes the issue of communication.’
‘Of course, Sister Roberts,’ said Tom. ‘However, I knew you were busy this morning and didn’t want to be interrupted, so again, I used my initiative to get on with the job and thought I’d communicate later at a more convenient time. And that is exactly what I’m doing now, Sister Roberts. It has all gone to plan.’
Sister Roberts couldn’t help but smile and Ada saw her face transform. And was that a flush of pink on her cheek also?
‘Well, Mr Dunderdale, Miss Smith is stamping mad.’
‘No change there then,’ said Tom.
Sister ignored his comment and continued, ‘You know how she is about staff being sent up to us from Scutari without the proper paperwork. She will probably just send young Ada straight back to Miss Nightingale like she did with the last one, so I’m going to tell her she’s disappeared, and I think it’s best we all stick to that story. We need all the nurses we can get – you know what it’s like on the wards.’
‘I do indeed,’ said Tom.
Then, seeing the concern on Ada’s face, Sister said, ‘Look, we need another nurse here right now. We will do all we can to keep you.’
Turning back to Tom, she went on, ‘Miss Smith needs to think the new nurse is missing. Let’s leave it at that for now, and in a few days’ time she will have moved on to another issue. You know what she’s like.’
‘I do indeed,’ said Tom with a smile on his face and his eyes shining.
‘So, Miss Houston,’ said Sister, suddenly a little flustered as she turned away from Tom. ‘I mean Nurse Houston. We can give you a trial. I know from your letter that you have no training so you will have to start from scratch. I want you learning the right way so I’ll put you under the supervision of Nurse Rose Blackwood. Nurse Blackwood trained under Miss Nightingale, as did I, therefore she has the correct standards.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ada, surprising herself by the rush of relief that came over her. ‘I will do my best,’ she added eagerly, despite the exhaustion that was setting in again.
Sister Roberts scanned Ada’s tired face, with its smudges of dark under h
er eyes. ‘First, however, you need to lie low and get more rest. And I know just the thing. Come with me.’ And calling over her shoulder to Tom, she cried, ‘I assume that you are able to use your initiative and get on with organizing the supplies without my nurse’s help?’
‘Yes,’ grinned Tom. ‘I’ll communicate with you later when all the work is done.’
As Ada followed Sister Roberts she saw the movement of her shoulders as she tried to stop herself from laughing.
Arriving at the nurses’ quarters, Ada was allocated a mattress that had been squeezed between two of the beds. ‘I’ll tell all the nurses that you are here and what our plan is, but when you’re in here you must try to keep down low so you can’t be seen from the door. Miss Smith never usually comes into the room, she only comes here occasionally, and when she does she just opens the door and has a quick scan round.’
‘I will,’ said Ada, starting to feel more heaviness in her body.
‘All right then, nurse,’ said Sister. ‘You get some rest down there and we will allocate you to some work tomorrow. The others will be in later and they won’t disturb you.’
‘Thank you, miss – I mean Sister Roberts,’ said Ada, feeling strangely pleased despite her exhaustion that Sister was calling her – Ada Houston – ‘nurse’.
She lay down on the mattress as instructed, thinking it unlikely that she would be able to get to sleep in the middle of the afternoon. She heard the door of the room close as Sister Roberts left and then she started thinking about Tom Dunderdale and Frank and all she had seen that day. Then she fell sound asleep, and continued to sleep for the rest of the day and all of the night.
12
‘Say not “How clever I am!” but “I am not yet worthy” … and I will live to deserve … to be called a trained nurse.’
Florence Nightingale
Ada was woken early the next morning by a woman’s voice that she definitely recognized but simply could not place – a very well-spoken voice that seemed to be in conversation with someone who almost certainly was Sister Roberts. The woman’s voice was clear with a hint of authority and Ada’s health seemed to be the topic of conversation. She was pleased to hear that they thought she had made a good recovery. That’s a relief, thought Ada, and it did sound as if they knew what they were talking about.
Then Sister Roberts said, ‘She’s a bit small but there’s something about her. I think she might have some potential, but you never know till they get out there on the ward.’
‘True,’ said the well-spoken voice. ‘I’ll wake her now and bring her a bit of breakfast and then we’ll make our way to the ward.’
‘All right, Nurse Blackwood, and please, please remember that you need to keep her out of the way if you hear Miss Smith coming. She’s snowed under with paperwork at the moment and not likely to come down to the ward but you never know.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Nurse Blackwood.
‘Like I said, keep a very close eye on her; she’s had no training whatsoever. Oh, I do hope that she can take to the work on the ward; what with that hospital nurse dying yesterday we need all the help we can get.’
Ada gasped. Dying? What the … Nurses dying on the ward?
Rose, hearing Ada’s small gasp, said one or two more words to Sister Roberts then came over to the mattress on the floor.
‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘So sorry, did we wake you?’
Ada looked up to see a pale, concerned face gazing down at her with what could only be described as motherly tenderness. She pulled herself up to a sitting position; she didn’t want the nurse to think that she was still sickly and was keen to make sure that she looked like someone who was ready to get to work.
‘Good morning,’ she said, probably a bit too vigorously. The pale-faced nurse drew back, surprised, her cheeks flushing pink.
‘Good morning, Nurse Houston. I’m Nurse Rose Blackwood. Sister Roberts has asked me to supervise you on the ward today.’
‘Thank you, Nurse Blackwood,’ said Ada, pushing her tousled hair back from her face and hauling herself up from the mattress.
Rose politely turned her back while Ada straightened her skirt and fastened her blouse, and then walked over to the small dresser by the door and picked up an apron. Rose slipped it over her own head and tied it. Ada noticed how tight she pulled the bow and hoped that Rose would be able to breathe.
‘I’m sorry, nurse, but we have no spare uniforms up here at Balaklava and the women have to make do with what they’ve got. However, we do have a fairly ready supply of clean aprons so you can start with this one if you want,’ Rose said, turning around and handing Ada a clean pinny.
‘Thank you,’ said Ada, still feeling a bit sleepy. ‘Was it you who helped me when I was sick? I seem to recognize your voice.’
‘Yes it was. I wanted to make sure that you were all right,’ Rose replied, adding, ‘I was just doing my duty.’
‘Thank you, Rose,’ said Ada, smiling at the pale, worried-looking woman that stood before her. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘You are welcome,’ said Rose with a shy smile.
Before they left the room Rose grabbed a fancy glass bottle off the side, popped off the stopper and applied a generous dab of the contents under her nose. Ada could smell fine perfume, nothing like the soaps that she’d used at home.
‘Mmm, that smells nice,’ said Ada, going right up beside Rose and having a good sniff. Then, sensing Rose stiffen and get ready to step away, she spoke softly, ‘Sorry, Rose, it’s just that where I come from we don’t smell scent like that every day of the week. It is so beautiful … do all the nurses use it?’
‘No, the others are hospital nurses who’ve been working on wards up and down the country for years; they’re all used to the odours. I do this every day to help me cope. Do you want some?’ she said, turning to face her new recruit who had closed her eyes and was continuing to inhale the perfume.
‘Yes please,’ said Ada, her eyes popping open.
Rose dabbed some on Ada’s neck, and she breathed it in again, beginning to feel heady with the perfume.
Rose smiled. ‘My mother gave this to me for my birthday last year. If she only knew what use I’d put it to.’
Ada grinned. She was really starting to take to Rose, although it still felt very strange indeed to be looked after by someone so far above her own station – but everything here was new to her, the old rules didn’t seem to apply.
On the way to the ward, Ada, still heady with perfume, kept glancing at Rose, trying to read her face, wondering what she had let herself in for. She was glad that Rose turned to her before opening the door and gave her a reassuring smile. ‘It’s your first day, it will feel grim, just try not to worry and stick with me.’
Ada took a deep breath and steeled herself, but when Rose opened the door she couldn’t help but reel back. She stood in the doorway for a few moments, taking in the crowded, sorry sight in front of her. There were rows of beds down each side, tightly squeezed together, all full, mostly men lying down, some groaning in pain. The men had long, straggly beards, and some were wearing ragged military jackets. Everything looked ripped and torn and grey. She didn’t know if she would be able to move from that spot but then she saw Rose turn and smile at her and heard her voice.
‘Come on, follow me, and let’s make a start.’
Ada smiled back even though her face felt tight and her teeth were gritted. She let the door close behind her and took as deep a breath as she could in such a foul-smelling environment.
‘All right then, nurse, we’ll start with Arnold,’ Rose said, pointing to a bed that contained a horrifically injured young man with such a look of pain in his eyes that it made Ada’s heart feel heavy in her chest.
Ada followed behind Rose so close that if Rose had stepped back she would have fallen over her new recruit. She stood with her as she made her assessment, but found it difficult to look at the man. His head was bandaged, his mouth looked twisted, both arms were boun
d up and when he tried to speak in response to Rose’s questions he could only make some strange noise.
As she stood watching, taking everything in, Ada could see how Rose showed that she was listening, even though the poor young man was using all of his energy just to try and speak and none of it seemed to make any sense. How terrible it must be, thought Ada, to not be able to communicate properly with another human being. Then Ada followed Rose across the ward to another bed whose occupant was an older man with a long grey beard. The man’s head was bandaged and Ada thought that he looked very sick indeed. He was lying with his eyes closed but had a tortured look on his face, a look of sheer pain. There must be some horrendous injury under that bandage, thought Ada, for him to look like that.
The man seemed to come awake as Rose stood over him. He started groaning and moving his head from side to side and pulling at the bandage. Ada was terrified that he would pull it off and do himself even more harm. Then he started muttering something about a cat and asking where the little boy was. She watched Rose place the back of her hand against the man’s cheek.
‘Mr Jackson,’ she said to him gently, ‘Mr Jackson, do you know where you are?’
Ada heard the man mutter some more words but it certainly didn’t sound like a reply to Rose’s question.
‘As I thought,’ she said quietly, turning to Ada. ‘He has a fever and he is delirious. Looks like the wound has taken bad ways and passed poison through to the brain.’
Ada was impressed by Rose’s knowledge but appalled at the man’s condition. She was even more appalled when Rose said, ‘I need to find Sister Roberts. Can you sit with this patient until I get back?’
‘Yes of course,’ said Ada automatically, feeling out of her depth but hoping she could do something to help the poor man.
‘Just watch that he doesn’t pull at the bandage, and if he tries to get out of bed you’ll have to stop him.’
‘All right,’ said Ada, praying that he wouldn’t do either of those things.
‘Oh, and give him some small sips of water from that spouted cup if you can,’ said Rose before turning away.