by Kate Eastham
And then he simply stopped asking and she was finding it more and more difficult to track him down. It felt like he was trying to avoid her and she started to think that she had been right all along – they’d had something that was of its own time out here in the Crimea and now that they were getting ready to go back home he was feeling differently, and maybe she was too; she didn’t even know any more.
It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had set sail from Liverpool, so eager to get away. Yes of course she had needed to do everything in her power to find her brother but, if she was honest, she had also been running away. Running away from the pain of grief and from what others might be expecting of her. She had known what they were thinking, that she should be getting married or looking for a job as a housemaid. But she had wanted none of that. She couldn’t have gone straight from that special world of imagination she had had with her grandfather to the cold reality of life as a young woman from the street where she had been born. She knew that she’d wanted something else back then, and that had not changed. The difference was that now she seemed to have found what she wanted and it was to carry on with the work. The work had become a calling and that calling was so strong that, in a way, she didn’t have a choice any more.
She didn’t know how any of this would fit with Lampeter or what he had imagined they might have together. He didn’t know anything about her, had never asked any questions. The last time they had properly spoken she had been trying to tell him about Frank and he’d said, ‘I didn’t even know you had a brother.’ And she’d thought to herself: Exactly, you don’t know anything about me. And then she had realized, fully realized, that, yes, she had come out to the Crimea to find her brother but she had found other things instead: friends who were like family, a sense of purpose, work that she loved, the promise of a new life … and love. She had not wanted to love John Lampeter but she had ended up with it. And the thing was, they were from two completely different worlds. It could never work, not back home. He’d asked her about going to live in London, hinting at some kind of life that they could have together, but she knew straight away that she couldn’t do it. It was easy for the likes of Rose and Mason, they were as good as engaged, but they were from the same class and they spoke the same language. They would get married and then Rose would give up her nursing to be a wife.
Ada had been shocked when she had first heard this from Rose, shocked to hear that Rose had been told a married woman could not work as a nurse. It didn’t seem right to her – where she came from many of the women went out to work alongside their men; they had to earn money. But for the better off, and apparently for the Nightingale Nurses, they could not carry on working once they were married.
Ada was still glowing with pride after a visit to Balaklava from Miss Nightingale herself, and ever since had known that she could not, would not, give up her nursing now. Miss Nightingale had come on to the ward and spoken to Mary Roberts; then she had done a round of the ward. And, much to Ada’s amazement, she had stopped in front of her and fixed her with those bright eyes that Ada remembered so well from her meeting with the great lady in Scutari. She had said, ‘You’re that nurse who came to see me at the hospital, the one without any qualifications.’ Ada had felt her knees go a bit weak, wondering what was coming, and had just about managed a mumbled response. Then Miss Nightingale had broken into a smile and said, ‘Sister Roberts tells me that you have done exceptionally well here, that you have met all the criteria to be a trained nurse, and therefore I am recommending you. You can use the title of Nightingale Nurse and we will be sure to find you employ at one of the new Royal Infirmaries.’
Ada, quite overwhelmed and not knowing whether to bow, curtsy or shake the woman’s hand, managed to stumble out another reply before Miss Nightingale continued, ‘Speak to Sister Roberts. She will advise you of a position in due course. Congratulations, nurse, excellent work. I must admit when I saw you in Scutari I really didn’t think you’d amount to much but you have proved me wrong.’
Ada had stood there on the ward, speechless, as Miss Nightingale swept on.
The rest of that day Ada was turning over all the things that Miss Nightingale had said. She still couldn’t believe that she had a recommendation. She would have to speak to Lampeter. There was no time to lose; she would speak to him that evening.
‘I need to tell you something,’ she said, finally catching up with him in the corridor outside the ward. She knew by the way that he looked at her that he had some idea of what was coming.
‘So at last you come to speak,’ he said with a strained smile on his face.
Although Ada had come to him knowing exactly what she wanted to say, seeing him standing there now pretending that he couldn’t care less about her or anything else, she felt her resolve weaken a little.
‘Well?’ he said, starting to sound impatient, and that did it, something clicked inside her and she came straight out with it.
‘The thing is, I know what I want to do when I get back. I want to carry on with nursing and I will be going back to Liverpool.’
Lampeter looked down at the ground and then lifted his head and shrugged his shoulders. ‘So, are you telling me something I don’t already know?’
‘Well, I thought I was,’ she said, raising her voice a little, ‘given that you’ve been asking me over and over about what I was going to do.’
He shrugged his shoulders again. ‘Have I?’ he said, seemingly distracted.
‘You know you have,’ she said, wanting to take hold of him and give him a good shake.
‘Where you go, Ada, is your business. Where I go is mine. We both have our work and our lives to lead.’
She stood and glared at him. He looked down at the floor.
‘Is there anything else?’ he said. ‘It’s just that Mason has a good bottle of brandy and he is waiting for me to join him.’
‘Yes, that is definitely all,’ she said crisply, turning on her heel and striding down the corridor without looking back, bitter tears of frustration beginning to stream down her face as she walked.
She went back to the nurses’ quarters burning with fury and not able to speak to anyone. She tossed and turned on her bed, unable to settle, and then she had to make some excuse to go outside to the now empty laundry to sit on a box and look at the sky full of stars. She still felt fury and energy coursing through her body, and in that heightened state her mind was able to see things more clearly than she had ever been able to before and she knew that there was nothing more that she could do about John Lampeter. She would have to leave him be and wait, see if he came to her, to know that what they had shared in this strange world of war was something that was strong enough to take back home. Ada knew that she could be strong and that she would wait for him. And she also knew that there was every chance that he might not come.
Lampeter didn’t come to find her the next morning. She saw him pass in the corridor and could tell just by the look of him that he was probably sorry for what he had said the day before – but he didn’t speak. And then as the days went by she saw the way he looked at her when he thought she couldn’t see him, and all the time she could sense that strong connection that buzzed between them, something drawing them together. But the more it seemed to draw, the more they both resisted. There was nothing more that she could say or do; she would just have to bide her time.
Yet there was little time left. The sense of leaving was bubbling through the hospital, and out on the road up to Sevastopol it felt like everybody was making preparation to leave and soon there would be no time left at all. Ada had been saying goodbyes over the last few weeks and had asked Tom Dunderdale if she could go with him to the army camp and the British Hotel on his next trip. There were a couple of things that she still needed to do.
Bumping along the dusty track beside Tom Dunderdale as they headed towards the army camp, Ada began to feel some lightness; she felt free.
‘Have you heard about Mrs Fitzwilliam?’ Tom said, trying t
o stop laughing as they swayed along together over the rugged road.
‘No,’ said Ada. ‘What now?’
‘The story goes that after the fall of Sevastopol she was seen riding Horatio through the French camp and swigging from a bottle of champagne.’
Ada started laughing and Tom launched into another story. As she sat she let his stories wash over her and when she glanced at his profile as he steadfastly drove ahead she knew that she was going to miss him terribly. She already missed Dolly and Lavinia. They had been moved out by the army a few weeks ago. And she knew that Rose and Mason would be going soon.
‘When are you going back, Tom?’ she said.
‘Don’t know yet. The army don’t give much notice. One day they’ll come along and say, you, get on that ship, and that’s it really. What you going to be doing, Ada?’
‘I’m going to nurse,’ she said.
‘That’s good work, Ada, and you have a real talent for it. Mary is so proud of you.’
‘Thanks, Tom, that’s really nice of you to say so.’
‘I’m not being nice,’ he said. ‘I mean it: you are going to do great things. I know it.’
Ada smiled. ‘I hope you’re right,’ she said. ‘I’ve still got a lot to learn and I’ll have to work hard but I really want to do it.’
‘Good for you, Ada. And I hear that Dr Lampeter’s going to a hospital in London.’
‘Really?’ said Ada, pretending that she wasn’t bothered in the slightest.
‘So they say. I mean, he has to, he is such a fine surgeon and he needs to be working with the best.’
‘Well, I’ve heard that there are some fine surgeons in places like Liverpool as well.’
‘I would think there are,’ said Tom, giving her an amused glance.
‘What?’ she said. ‘What’s that for?’
‘Nothing,’ he said, still smirking.
‘Stop it, Tom.’ And then, desperate to change the subject, ‘Have you heard about Dr Mason?’
‘No, what’s he up to?’
‘Well, I’ve heard that he’s got himself a supply of those herbal powders from Mrs Seacole. He says he’s going to study them and make himself a fortune.’
‘He needs to an’ all with the amount of champagne he drinks,’ said Tom.
Ada laughed.
‘And it’s good to hear about him and Rose, the engagement and everything. It’s nice, that.’
‘Yes, yes, it is,’ she said, feeling a flush on her neck and not wanting to get into any talk about engagements or weddings.
As soon as Ada jumped down from the wagon at the camp she found herself taken back to when she had said goodbye to Billy, that last time she had seen him. It made her feel sad for him and for all the rest who’d lost their lives out here, so far away from home and family.
‘I’ll meet you back here in an hour or so,’ said Tom, his voice breaking through her thoughts. She didn’t realize that he’d been waiting, leaving her to think, standing by the wagon, until he could see that she was ready to make a move. He knew how much she had been through and wanted to make sure she had a chance to come to terms with things.
‘Thanks, Tom,’ she said. ‘I’ll just go and have a look at the hospital tent.’
‘Righto.’
She found Dr Rossiter sitting all alone in the middle of the tent surrounded by packing cases. ‘Hello,’ he said warmly. ‘Do you want a drink?’ and he raised a half-bottle of brandy to her.
‘No, but thank you,’ said Ada. ‘I’ve just come back to have a look at the old place before it’s time to leave.’
‘I know, quite right,’ said Rossiter, sounding a little drunk. ‘Don’t think any of us will ever forget that couple of days we spent in this tent in the thick of it,’ he went on, taking another swig from his bottle.
‘We certainly won’t,’ said Ada, almost catching again the smell of gunpowder and the screams of pain and feeling a shudder go through her. ‘Think I might just have a swig of that after all,’ she said, stepping over to take hold of the bottle.
‘Help yourself,’ said Rossiter. ‘I spent all last night with Lieutenant Goodman. Don’t think I can take much more liquor after that lot.’
Lieutenant Goodman, thought Ada as she took a good swig of brandy from the bottle, that sounds familiar. And then she remembered the story that Billy had told her all those months ago. Of course, Goodman was the officer that Billy had worked for as a groom.
‘That’s strange,’ said Ada, handing the brandy back to Rossiter. ‘Lieutenant Goodman is the man I’ve come to see.’
‘Really?’ said Rossiter. ‘Do you know the fine fellow?’
‘No, but I’ve heard of him, and, in fact, I need to call and see him if you can tell me where he is.’
‘I can indeed. He has a hut two rows along. You can’t miss it; it has a line of champagne bottles against the wall.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ada, making to leave.
‘Come and sit with me, Nurse Ada,’ said Rossiter. ‘I have something to ask.’
‘I can’t really,’ said Ada. ‘I’ve got to get back to Balaklava soon.’
‘Well,’ said Rossiter, ‘all I was wondering was, what are you thinking of doing once you get back to Blighty?’
‘I want to nurse,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t want to give it up.’
‘And you shouldn’t give it up. You are a fine nurse and there is so much more out there for you to learn. The foundations of the new nursing have been laid, very firmly laid, by our Miss Nightingale. The time is ripe, Ada, the time is ripe.’
‘I do believe it is,’ she said, smiling at him as he took another swig of brandy.
‘Anyway,’ he said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, ‘I have a proposition for you, young Ada.’
‘Oh, well, I’m sorry, I need to get going,’ said Ada.
‘No, no, not that, not what you’re thinking,’ he said, laughing. ‘I was wondering if you would be interested in a position at one of the new Infirmaries appointed by Queen Victoria. They’re crying out for nurses like you who’ve had experience in the Crimea and I think that you have a valuable contribution to make.’
‘Do you really think so?’ said Ada, surprised by how forcefully Rossiter had spoken.
‘Yes of course,’ said Rossiter, smiling at her. ‘Would you be interested?’
‘Well, yes,’ she said, her eyes shining, ‘and as a matter of fact I have a recommendation from Miss Nightingale herself for the very same thing.’
‘Excellent,’ said Rossiter. ‘That is excellent indeed. You’re from the north, aren’t you? I’ve heard that there’s one in Manchester. A fine establishment by all accounts. They say that the new buildings are heated by hot water in pipes and lit by gas.’
‘Really?’ said Ada, her eyes widening. ‘That sounds impressive but I need to go back to Liverpool. That’s where my people are.’
‘In that case you need to look at the Liverpool Royal Infirmary on Brownlow Street. Not as modern as the hospital in Manchester but there’s a lot of good work going on there.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ada, ‘I might just do that.’
‘Well, good luck with Lieutenant Goodman. He’s a luckier man than me,’ he said with a bit of a glint in his eye that she chose to ignore. ‘Don’t forget, the hut with the champagne bottles. You can’t go wrong.’
Ada emerged from the tent and followed his directions, but the camp was still an absolute maze of tents and huts and it took her some time to find the right place. Finally she saw the champagne bottles and knew she was there. As she approached the wooden door she could hear the sound of voices and laughter and hesitated a moment before knocking.
‘Come in!’ shouted a voice and she pushed open the door to find a group of three or four officers inside, smoking, drinking and playing cards. The room was stacked with boxes of food and bottles of drink, and there was a foul stink of rotting flesh that made Ada’s nose wrinkle.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Could you tel
l me where I’ll find Lieutenant Goodman?’
A man stood up, smiling and swaying and saying that maybe it was his lucky day.
She smiled, but was careful not to encourage his advances. ‘It’s not actually you that I’m here to see, Lieutenant Goodman. I wondered whether I could see Captain Jack. Could I see him please?’
‘That’s my horse!’ said the officer as the other men burst into laughter. ‘That’s my damn horse!’
‘Yes, I’ve heard a lot about him. Could I see him?’ Ada repeated, calmly.
‘He’s tied up round the back of the hut, I think. That’s where I left him at any rate.’
Ada nodded her thanks before turning to leave.
‘Oh look, now she’s leaving, she’s leaving, it must be the foul stench in here,’ he said. ‘It’s not us, we don’t smell that bad. It’s the rats, they nest under the hut. We poisoned them and now they’re rotting away under the floor. Horrible stink, so sorry.’
Ada smothered a laugh as she heard the last of it and closed the door on them.
She soon found Captain Jack, who appeared to be a very ordinary-looking horse, brown in colour with a dark mane and tail, and with a bit of a belly on him. Ada went over to him timidly at first. She’d never had much to do with horses. Jack didn’t seem to mind her presence, so she ran her hand down his neck. Then, moving in closer, she laid her cheek against his neck and felt the warm smoothness of his coat. As his big ears flicked backwards and forwards, she told him that she had known Billy and that she had been with him when he died.
The huge animal twisted his big head round to look at her and she instinctively stroked his velvet muzzle, smelling that special horse smell and feeling his warm breath on her hand as she cupped it around his nose. Then, giving him a final pat, she said, ‘Goodbye, Jack,’ and left him there tied up behind the hut.