by Kate Eastham
‘Do you think she has a fever, or could she have had an apoplexy?’ said Lampeter, starting to look even more anxious.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Sister Roberts, clearly struggling to make sense of the situation.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Lampeter. ‘What you said about the dagger sounds like it was some kind of trigger. I think she’s suffering from shock. I’ve seen the men have all kinds of reactions when they come out of the trenches – what they’ve started calling trench madness. After all that happened to her in Sevastopol it would be no surprise and I know for sure that she did need to use that knife. She picked it up off the floor after I found her.’
‘How do you know that she used the knife?’ asked Rose.
‘When I went into the hospital she was there, and she was fighting off an attacker. I think she must have needed to use it, but it was all a bit confusing—’
‘Those Russians,’ said Rose.
‘No,’ said Lampeter, firmly. ‘It wasn’t the Russians. Her attacker was one of ours. He had the uniform of an orderly. It was a Russian soldier who shot him, who saved her.’
‘Oh my!’ said Sister Roberts, utterly shocked. ‘What a thing to happen to her … and from one of our own. We need to go very carefully with her now. Give her plenty of time to rest and if she needs to talk, let her. Let her talk as much as she wants … That’s the way she’ll get better. She will be all right,’ she added, seeing their worried faces. ‘That girl is made of strong stuff. She’s the sort that will get up no matter how many times she’s knocked down. She will come through; just give her time.’
A few days later, Lampeter had special permission to go and see Ada in the nurses’ quarters, but only while Rose was there. He took the little dog, Bob, with him but even when it jumped up on the bed wagging its tail, trying to lick Ada’s face, they still couldn’t get her to speak. She would absentmindedly reach out a hand to stroke the animal but that was as far as it went.
Lampeter was becoming desperate to hear the sound of her voice; although he gave some credence to his own theory of trench madness he was still unable to exclude some physical condition. And so he kept checking her for fever or disruption of the nervous system. He even asked Rose to hold open Ada’s mouth while he had a look down her throat, thinking there might be something mechanical obstructing her speech. But he found nothing. It was as if she had simply stepped away somewhere and left her body lying in the bed with basic functions only.
Dolly and Lavinia visited regularly. They were worried about Ada but they both knew what Lavinia had been through after her husband died and it felt like something similar. They sat on the bed and chatted to her every day and even brought the cat, Tom Dunderdale, in as well sometimes, but the cat was restless and wouldn’t settle and needed to be let back outside to lie in the sun.
Dolly had taken back the dagger. Rose had told them the story of what had happened in Sevastopol and Lavinia had a good idea who Ada’s attacker might be. Of course it was that rat Cedric, good riddance to him, she had said. Dolly was so pleased that she’d given the dagger to Ada – who knew what might have happened to her if she hadn’t been able to use it? And she had used it – Dolly was certain of that.
So Ada continued to lie in Rose’s bed and Rose slept on the floor. Rose looked after her friend and gave her every opportunity to talk, but day after day, nothing came. Sister Roberts kept reassuring Rose, telling her to keep going, to continue gently caring for her friend, repeating over and over, ‘Just give her more time. With the right care she will come to.’ But even Rose was hard-pressed to keep faith with that theory, despite Mary Roberts’s years of experience. What if she was wrong? What if Ada never came back and never spoke again?
Rose had found that Ada would eat and drink if she left food and water on a small table by the bed and then closed the door on her, and she could prompt her to get out of bed to the commode. If she brought a bowl of water she could wet the cloth, wring it out and give it to Ada and she would wash her own face, then Rose would do her hands, wiping them gently and patting them dry. She brushed Ada’s hair, telling her how thick and beautiful it was, and then she would put her hair up, making her look like the woman that she was. Ada only had one nightdress so Rose made sure that she always had a clean one by using her own supply, beautiful soft cotton with delicate lace trim. And then she would make sure that the mother-of-pearl brooch was pinned to her nightdress, not knowing who had given it to Ada but knowing that it was very special. And last of all she would take her bottle of eau de cologne that they now shared, and make sure that her friend had a good dab on her neck. It was only a bit of perfume, but Rose thought that it made all the difference. She loved to be able to do these things for her friend and she would continue to do them, but Rose missed so much the sound of Ada’s voice and her laugh, and prayed that her friend would start talking soon. She would do anything to try and make it happen.
23
‘You little know how intensified anxieties become to those who have no change; how the very walls of their sick room seem hung with cares; how the ghosts of their troubles haunt their beds.’
Florence Nightingale
The soldiers on the ward now had spent months in the trenches. Tom reported that the nights were lively, with the poor sods shouting out and trying to get out of bed. He regularly found a young lad huddled in the corner of the ward, clawing at his legs, weeping and completely disorientated.
Most of the men were sensitive to noise and movement, and Sister Roberts stressed to the nurses that they must move around the ward as carefully and quietly as possible, looking out for signs of trench madness in the men and reporting it to her immediately. She had seen a number of men with dangerous suicidal or murderous intent while working at Scutari and knew that this was a serious issue. She also knew that the men couldn’t help their disturbed behaviour. Their senses had been bombarded and overstimulated for far too long and they had been existing in a state of high anxiety.
Rose had just been to check on Ada and was pleased because she’d seen her friend try to smile, something that might be a glimmer of her coming back to life. Going in through the door of the ward, she was struck by how restless the current group of soldiers were. They weren’t getting patients with new injuries now, except those who shot themselves. Most of the admissions were fever cases and those with old, sometimes minor injuries. But this lot had spent a long time in the trenches and they were nervous and restless.
The other nurses were well ahead with the work, so Rose took a walk down the ward to check on everyone. She walked slowly, taking in each patient: some in their beds, some standing at the top of the ward, some sitting on their beds. As she reached the top she glanced out of the window to check if any patients were sitting on the bench outside.
Before she had a chance to turn back, she was grabbed from behind. She knew instantly by how rough her assailant was that she was in danger and she let out a terrified scream. Her assailant tightened his hold, his arm around her neck. She couldn’t breathe, and thought he was going to strangle her there and then.
He swung her round to face the ward and she could see her colleagues frozen in time, terrified looks on their faces. Lampeter, Mason and Sister Roberts all stood down the ward, holding their breath. She felt the man – it must be one of the patients – loosen his grip and move his arm down her body and she started to breathe a little more easily, but then she felt the sharp point of something against her neck.
‘Oh my God, he’s got a knife!’ shouted one of the hospital nurses. ‘He’s going to kill her!’
‘Shh, quiet now,’ said Sister Roberts. ‘Everybody keep still and stay quiet.’
But Mason couldn’t help himself and took a step towards them, hoping that he wouldn’t be seen.
Instantly the man pressed the knife in harder against Rose’s pale neck, making an indent in the flesh. Rose screamed again and Mason took another step.
‘Stop!’ shouted Lampeter as they saw a trickle of bl
ood flow down Rose’s neck and on to her white blouse.
Mason was in anguish as he stood like a statue, terrified of making any further movement. The soldiers on the ward had all stopped in their tracks. The whole ward held its breath.
‘It’s all right,’ said Lampeter, keeping his voice steady. ‘It looks worse than it is. It’s just a flesh wound. But nobody move.’
Lying in her bed down the corridor, Ada heard what sounded like a scream, and then she thought she heard people running. She felt like she’d been sleeping for a long, long time; it must be time to get up. As she stood up out of bed she was surprised to see that she was wearing a fancy nightgown, and when she glanced in the lopsided mirror on the wall she could see that her hair was neatly pinned up. Also, she fairly stank of that expensive perfume of Rose’s. Funny that, she thought, she couldn’t remember putting any on. She was just thinking of getting dressed and heading to the ward when she heard another scream, a scream that pierced her heart.
That’s it, she thought, there’s definitely something up. She headed out into the corridor in her nightie.
‘What is it?’ she asked a hospital nurse who was skulking in the corridor.
‘It’s one of the patients! He’s gone crazy and he’s holding Nurse Blackwood with a knife.’
Ada didn’t need to hear any more; she was already striding towards the ward. She had no idea what she was going to do but she had to do something.
She opened the door as carefully and quietly as she could and saw straight away a soldier with his left arm tight around Rose’s body and his right hand holding a knife to her throat. Rose’s eyes were wide open and her breath was coming quickly. She had a trickle of blood down her neck.
Nobody was doing anything – why wasn’t anybody doing anything? She could see their backs, see how still they were, Lampeter, Mason and Sister Roberts, but if they didn’t make a move it looked like the man was going to kill Rose with that knife. It would be easy, thought Ada, easy as anything. She had learnt enough in her short time as a nurse to know about the big vessels that carried blood in the neck.
So quietly, with her bare feet on the ward floor and the nightie lightly brushing her legs, she walked forward, through those who were standing. She walked through like some ghost from a different time.
The soldier saw her moving towards him and seemed transfixed, thrown off from what he had set himself to do.
‘Lizzie?’ he said. ‘Is that our Lizzie?’
Ada had to think on her feet. ‘Yes,’ she said, making eye contact with him and maintaining it as she continued to walk carefully towards him.
‘What are you doing here?’ he said.
‘I’ve come to see you,’ said Ada, still keeping eye contact and trying not to look at Rose’s terrified face. ‘I’ve come to see you. How are you doing?’
Then she saw the man look from side to side, unsure. She saw him tighten his grip on Rose again, who gave a muffled sob.
‘It’s all right,’ said Ada. ‘It’s all right, don’t worry about this lot in here. I’ve come to see you; we need to talk.’
Ada’s heart was racing and she could feel her breath coming quickly as she got closer and closer to the man. His eyes were still all over the place and she stopped and waited and then spoke to him softly again. ‘Come on then, let’s see what we can do to help.’ He didn’t look at her at first and then she said again, ‘Remember me? It’s Lizzie,’ and he dropped the knife and released Rose and came over to her.
‘Lizzie! Lizzie, my own sister!’
He grabbed Ada in a hug and started crying. Ada patted him on the back, saying, ‘There there,’ all the time looking over his shoulder and seeing Mason go straight to Rose and lead her away, and then Sister Roberts indicate that Ada should try and release herself from the man’s grip. And she could see Lampeter with a fierce look on his face ready to tackle the man and drag him away if need be.
‘All right then,’ said Ada, ‘let me have a look at you,’ and she stepped out of the man’s embrace and stood back.
Then Sister Roberts and Lampeter were by the man’s side and helping him over to a bed. ‘Let’s get you some medicine,’ said Sister Roberts. ‘You can see Lizzie again later.’
The whole ward breathed a sigh of relief and in the next moment Rose was by Ada’s side with a dressing and bandage on her neck and Dr Mason holding her hand.
‘Ada,’ she said, ‘you can speak! Oh, Ada,’ and she grabbed her friend in a hug.
‘Never mind that,’ said Ada with a grin. ‘You’re alive. That’s all that matters.’
‘Thanks to you,’ said Rose. ‘Thanks to you.’
‘I’m not quite sure why I’m wearing this get-up,’ said Ada, ‘and stinking of your perfume.’
‘It’s a long story,’ said Rose, ‘a long story.’
Just then the ward door swung open and Mrs Fitzwilliam appeared, her arms full of poppies. ‘Hello, everyone!’ she said, and then seeing Ada she cried warmly, ‘And hello again to you, young lady,’ not even remarking on Ada’s appearance.
Mrs Fitzwilliam gave the poppies to one of the nurses, asking her to set them out in jars around the ward, and then she fished in the large bag she was carrying for the chocolate and biscuits that she had brought for the soldiers. Ada could see how the patients loved to see her and how her visits must make such a difference to them. She remembered what Tom Dunderdale had said that first day they went out for supplies. Yes indeed, she was ‘quite something’, that Mrs Fitzwilliam.
Then Mrs Fitzwilliam came back to Ada and stood holding her hand while she related to the whole ward the story of their meeting that first day on the harbour and the botched amputation. Ada was grateful that she spoke quickly so that not many could follow her. But then she concluded by asking loudly where that ghastly doctor had ended up – ‘What was his name? Lambeater or some such?’
She turned then to find that very same ghastly doctor standing right behind her. Ada gasped but Lampeter simply held out his hand to Mrs Fitzwilliam and said, ‘Dr Lampeter, as a matter of fact.’
Mrs Fitzwilliam didn’t flinch, just stuck out her arm and gave him a strong handshake before making a smart exit. Lampeter smiled and shook his head, then went over to the nearest jar of poppies and carefully withdrew the choicest bloom. Coming over to Ada, he bowed and gave her the flower. ‘This is for you. You are truly the bravest nurse I have ever worked with … but maybe you need to think about getting yourself dressed.’
‘I’d forgotten about that,’ she said, starting to smile.
‘And there is one other thing as well, Nurse Houston,’ said Lampeter in a formal voice, and then he took her hand and whispered in her ear, ‘I want to kiss you.’
Later that day the ward seemed quieter, almost as if, after all that had happened, the rhythm had somehow been restored. The patients seemed to be resting easier. Even the man who had grabbed Rose was sleeping on his bed, his troubles left to one side for the time being. Rose was there, insisting that she could carry on and not wanting to rest up as Mason had ordered, and Ada had dressed and come on to the ward in a clean pinny, slowly getting back into the routine.
It was early evening and the windows had been cranked open as wide as possible. A light breeze was just about stirring the air inside the ward and the sun was slanting in, catching the red of the poppies and making them glow in even greater contrast to the grey blankets and the white bandages. Now that Ada was back at work, she could breathe more easily; she felt calm. She had no idea if the feeling would last, but for now, she was at peace.
24
‘And yet all this going home seemed strange and somewhat sad.’
Mary Seacole
Balaklava, 1856
It was April, the world was slowly coming back to life, birds were singing in the broken trees, flowers grew around the edges of the shell holes out on the Crimean plain and the graves that had been dug in the autumn were covered with fresh blooms. All those months ago Tom had taken Ada out to the grave th
at contained Billy’s body and she had stood beside it with her head bowed as the autumn leaves blew around her and the first cold of winter came in off the sea. That had been a bleak day and Ada had felt the nip of that wind around her face for weeks after, but she was glad that she had gone out there to pay her respects before the ground froze solid.
And now it was spring and, at last, the war had been declared over. It was time for the army to clear what they could, pack things together and start to leave.
Most of the soldiers and medical staff had stayed on during the winter. It had been very cold, but this time around the army had been housed in wooden huts on the heights above Sevastopol. They had plenty of food, warm clothing, and now that hostilities had ceased the only real concern had been to find diversion through their time of waiting. Bars and shops had been packed full, there’d been gambling, billiards, hunting and even horse-racing. Mrs Seacole had done a roaring trade at the British Hotel and the Christmas celebration she’d provided there had been legendary. They’d even had boat-loads of tourists arriving from Britain, wanting to see the famous battle sites, collect souvenirs and stand on Cathcart’s Hill looking down on the ruined city of Sevastopol. Ada would have nothing to do with these people in their fine clothes; she’d found the whole thing detestable.
Ada and Rose had had time to get to know each other even better, and in the quiet of the ward where they still had patients – those with chronic wounds or fever cases – Ada had been able to spend more time with Sister Roberts: listening and learning. She had soaked up so much knowledge and had even pushed Lampeter for all that he knew of anatomy and physiology, devouring the information in the medical books that he had given her. In the biting cold of winter he had also given Ada his Russian fur coat and she had felt very special indeed snuggled up inside it.
But now they all knew that the war was over, Lampeter had been driving Ada crazy, constantly asking her what she wanted to do when she got back to England. Would he see her? Where would she go? They had been spending stolen moments together around the hospital, but with the eyes that seemed to be forever on them, they hadn’t ever had the chance to really talk things through.