‘Nurse Robinson,’ Sister Jordan’s calm but firm voice spoke, ‘help the men capable of walking into the top shelter. I’ll stay here with staff nurse and deal with the situation here.’
There was no arguing. ‘Yes, Sister.’
At that moment, the ward doors opened and Richard returned with a wheelchair.
Sister didn’t hesitate. ‘Porter. Take Mr Hardy in bed five to the top shelter then return to the ward. Meanwhile’ – she turned to Mr Jennings – ‘there’s a job of work to be done. You can either leave the premises or help us here.’
Mr Jennings’s bolshie mood subsiding, he gave Richard a sour look.
‘I’m stoppin’ with me laddie.’
In the distance came the drone of enemy planes and the faraway bark of guns on the ground.
Visitors and staff alike began evacuating the ward. Richard lifted an infirm serviceman from his bed and placed him gently down in the seat of the wheelchair, then wheeled him from the ward.
May knew assistance would arrive shortly as the procedure was that off-duty staff in the nurses’ home helped out in the event of an air raid emergency.
May put a blanket around a patient’s shoulders. Noticing he was wearing slippers and so could walk, she and Nurse Jones, a second-year nurse, helped the unsteady soldier from the ward.
‘Take as many blankets and pillows as you can,’ she heard Sister Jordan call to relatives.
Outside, as enemy aircraft – like enraged bees – swarmed closer, a smiling moon sailed blissfully unaware in the heavens. May looked up and saw, by the moonlight, the threatening sight of aircraft flying high in the sky – and they drew closer. Nurse Jones, on the other side of the soldier, pulled a terrified face. May’s stomach clenched as she understood how she felt.
Two semi-sunken shelters had been dug in the hospital grounds. One was to the east, beside the old workhouse buildings, the other to the south, on land behind the nurses’ home. May and Nurse Jones led the man to the top shelter, to the south, and joined the throng – porters wheeling trolleys, patients dressed in their nightwear, nurses in mufti pushing wheelchairs – all hurrying into the relative safety of the air raid shelter.
The two nurses assisted the exhausted man down the steep ramp and around the blast wall, where they found him a space in a vacant bed.
‘Best we get back,’ Nurse Jones, her eyes as big as saucers, told May.
May had the shakes because she didn’t want to go to outside to be exposed to countless enemy bomber aeroplanes.
The night reminded her of the raid when her good friend Dorothy was killed. She thought of Etty and wondered how she would cope now when the memories of that terrible night would surely come flooding back. May had a fleeting desire to comfort the lass.
She and Nurse Jones ran back to Nightingale Ward, passing folk running the other way towards the shelter. Breathlessly, May reached the door to the corridor. A dark figure loomed behind and she recognised Richard’s silhouette.
May was unsure how to behave around him since the events of this evening, which already seemed a lifetime ago. Nothing had changed – he was still the pleasant man she’d talked to before – but she still felt uneasy knowing that he was a conscientious objector, and she didn’t honestly know what she thought. She knew some folks branded conchies as cowards. In this war people held all kinds of beliefs and reasons for their actions and that was their right – but why would a man not want to fight for his country?
‘You’re as good as the next,’ he’d said to her, and she told herself that’s what she’d think about him until she found out otherwise. She wouldn’t be swayed by other peoples’ views. But she couldn’t help feeling unconvinced, even by her own reasoning.
The siren still sounding, May heard the rumble of bomber planes. Transfixed, she looked up into the star-studded sky. Enemy aircraft, like enormous black prehistoric birds, throbbed overhead, then hurtled into the distance. A whistling noise pierced the night sky, and for a heart-stopping moment time stood still. Then May heard the sound of a faraway explosion. Above the distant built-up area a crimson glow spread across the sky. May prayed the occupants were safely out of the buildings and protected in some underground shelter.
The thought spurred her on. Back on the ward, she made way for a porter and orderly who carried a patient recovering from an operation to remove shrapnel embedded in his face and legs onto a stretcher. May looked around the ward at those patients who couldn’t be moved. If it hadn’t been for their eyes following the activity around them they could be mistaken for dead.
The third time May passed around the shelter blast wall, assisting an old man who walked with a stick, distant whistles and explosions could be heard from outside.
‘Yi’ look done in,’ said an elderly gentleman who wore striped pyjamas and sat in a wheelchair. Every breath he took was an effort. ‘Sit down… have a cup of tea. A kind nurse… had the foresight to bring me this.’ He held out a flask.
‘Thank you, but I must get back.’
‘Surely… everybody’s… in the shelter by now.’
‘I’ll be needed on the ward.’ She gave a weary smile then hurried away.
* * *
All now was quiet except for the faraway drone of enemy bombers. Now that the rush of adrenalin had ebbed away, May was tired – the kind of weariness that left her heavy-eyed and exhausted.
As she went past the Outpatients’ entrance a plane droning nearer from the vicinity of the coast made May freeze in her tracks. A burst of gunfire erupted from the docks area and twin circles of lights criss-crossing in the sky highlighted the lone enemy bomber. The plane must have been hit because as it came closer it lost height until it seemed to be skimming over the rooftops. Then came the sound May most dreaded: a stick of bombs jettisoned from the plane whistled to the ground. There were terrific explosions as, one by one, they hit the earth. As the plane thundered over the hospital, the last bomb fell and May, falling to her knees, put her hands over her head. A single shriek above made May prepare to meet her maker. Then out of nowhere a figure grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to her feet, manhandling her through Outpatients’ doorway.
There was a blinding flash and, breaking free, May fell to the ground. A warm body flung itself over her. Cocooned beneath, she felt safe and sound.
There was a nerve-racking silence, followed by a deafening explosion. As the earth shook, the building creaked, dust clogged the air and plaster fell from the ceiling. In the eerie quiet May realised that if it hadn’t been for her saviour she mightn’t have made it.
The person shielding her moved away, but she found that she was incapable of moving herself. She knew she wasn’t hurt, just stunned, and she wondered how she could be trusted to look after patients if she couldn’t keep her nerve in an emergency. She analysed how she felt. Her body numb, her mind whirling out of control, she was in temporary shock, she realised, and the fact she’d lost control confused and panicked her.
Strong arms took her under the armpits and heaved her to a standing position.
‘You’re safe in here,’ a male voice told her. May looked up into Richard’s concerned eyes.
‘Listen.’ He cocked his head. They could hear the sound of an aeroplane, engine faltering. ‘Jerry’s turned tail and is limping home. He probably got hit and that’s why he jettisoned the bombs, to lighten the plane’s load. He’ll probably go down in the drink.’
May didn’t like Jerry being referred to as a person – the thought that he was a human being with loved ones waiting at home. She couldn’t bear the thought of their grief. She realised then, that she was doing it again, losing her grip, allowing her mind to wander. She despaired; even though Sister had said that one day she’d make a good nurse, May now knew differently – she didn’t have what it took.
Richard held her arm to steady her.
After what she’d discovered about herself, May couldn’t face him, or anyone and just wanted to be alone. She cried, ‘Don’t touch me.�
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Richard stiffened and, as if he’d been burned, he let go of her arm.
‘It’s me… I…’
‘You don’t have to explain.’ He strode off and left her.
‘It’s not what you think,’ she called, but it was too late as he’d rounded the corner.
May worried that Richard must think she thought badly of him, when in fact she was indebted to him for saving her.
Remembering the servicemen packed together like sardines in the shelter made her come to her senses. She had a job to do. The patients, who’d been through worse ordeals than this, trusted and needed her. On shaky legs, she made her way to Nightingale Ward where a frazzled-looking but commanding Sister Jordan fussed around her patients. The blast from the bomb had caused damage to the ward. Two of the windows had been blown out, shattered glass and debris littered the floor and a radiator hung off the wall, but incredibly none of the men were injured.
‘Salvage and clean all you can,’ Sister Jordan instructed nurses. She caught sight of May. ‘Nurse Robinson, see that Mr Atkins gets a cup of sweet tea, he’s trembling with shock, then after the mess is cleared up report to Casualty. They’ll need everyone on hand to assist with the injured.’
As if on cue, the ‘all clear’ sounded, and the clang of fire engines and ambulance bells rang out in the night air.
* * *
‘Blimey, did you see the crater in the road outside the hospital?’ Valerie wanted to know the next night when they’d finally got off duty and were back in Parklands. There had been no classes during the day as everyone was required to be on duty to help with the clean-up at the hospital, to assist with casualties and make sure wards ran smoothly again.
Valerie continued. ‘I took a minute to look at the damage this morning when I was takin’ notes to records.’ She raised her eyes heavenward. ‘You wouldn’t believe the crowd of folk standing like statues around the rim ogling down the hole. I half expected to see a German spy come crawlin’ out.’ She shrugged. ‘I wonder what makes folk act strange like that.’
‘Probably delayed shock,’ Maureen told her. ‘Thank God Outpatients wasn’t hit and it was just the ground outside.’
It was Christmas Eve, and the three of them, sprawled on Maureen’s bed, were still in the throes of disbelief after the previous night’s events. Hardly anyone at the hospital had gone to bed till the early hours and in May’s case she hadn’t slept a wink. The three probationer nurses, wearing pyjamas and huddled in blankets for warmth, were drinking tea and tucking into shortbread that Maureen’s mam had baked the last time her daughter visited home. They were made, according to Maureen, with margarine, flour and sugar, and a splash of milk to knead the biscuits. Crumbs littered the top of the counterpane.
‘There’s talk the bombers were headed for the airfields and that the lone raider must have been a straggler.’ Maureen brushed crumbs from her pyjamas. ‘The hospital had a close shave.’ She gave May a sympathetic gaze. ‘Thank God nobody was killed.’
May was still jittery and trying to come to terms with all that had happened during the bombing – especially being saved by Richard. She sought to change the subject. ‘Who’s going home for Christmas?’
‘Me.’ Maureen turned to Valerie. ‘How about you?’
Valerie popped the last of her biscuit into her mouth and licked her fingertips. ‘I’m not on duty, more’s the pity, so I’ll have to show me face at home.’ She heaved a tortured sigh. ‘I’ll have to suffer Mam going on about how I should meet a nice fella and settle down. According to her, at twenty I’m positively on the shelf.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘No fear. I don’t want to end up like her with six kids and a fella that scarpered.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Seriously, though… this war has helped lasses like me to escape the kitchen sink. Who’d have thought I’d be working as a nurse?’ A grin spread across her face. ‘And though I’m happy to do me bit, I’m going to have meself a bit of fun before I settle down. And blow me mam.’
Surely Valerie didn’t mean she’d become a… floozy? May smiled, thinking of the word Mam called a certain type of lass. But hark at her, she thought, with her dubious past. Mentally she apologised to Valerie.
Valerie stretched and yawned. ‘If nobody minds, I’m calling it a night. After last night I’m beat.’ She stood and made to move, then turned towards them. ‘And I can’t risk bein’ late and hauled up in front of Matron again.’
‘Why? What did you do?’ Maureen’s face creased in concern.
‘Apparently, Matron doesn’t like the way I talk. She insists I speak proper, like.’
When she’d left, Maureen laughed. ‘I reckon that girl is a more dedicated nurse than she lets on.’
She moved to her bedside locker and, opening the drawer, brought out a package ‘I’m off home tomorrow,’ she told May, ‘and so I’ll give you this now.’
She handed over the small parcel wrapped in thin, second-hand Christmas paper.
‘Oh! I haven’t got you a present.’
‘Don’t worry. It’s not new. It’s something I’ve got two of.’
‘I’ll open it now.’
Unwrapping the gift, May saw a small blue-bound book and flicking through the pages she realised it was a dictionary.
Maureen appeared uncommonly embarrassed. ‘I hope you don’t think me presumptuous. But you’re always saying you want to look words up.’
‘Truly, it’s just what I need. Why didn’t I think of having one? I am stupid!’
‘Don’t let me hear you say that again.’ Maureen’s tone was firm. ‘You’re incredibly bright and perceptive and don’t let anyone tell you differently.’
Maureen was an understanding soul, and it was such a thoughtful gift; May was touched. Her emotions got the better of her and her chin trembled. She suddenly found she missed Mam.
‘Whatever’s wrong?’ Maureen asked.
May crumpled and, like a waterfall, words spilled from her mouth.
Seeing each event as it had occurred in her mind’s eye as she talked, she told Maureen about how Mam died and the gap it had left in May’s life, and about Derek being her son preferring to stay at the farm, her best friend betraying her and Dad throwing her out. She didn’t mention Billy, as his death was still too raw even to think about.
‘Such terrible times,’ Maureen said. ‘I admire your courage to withstand it all. I’ll pray to God for his guidance… he won’t let you down.’
May didn’t squirm as she usually did when anyone spoke openly about God. For, with Maureen, speaking about such things came as naturally as talking about the weather.
‘Who do you have in your life?’
‘I’ve made a friend called Alec but he… crowds me a little.’ May was surprised to hear herself voice her doubts. ‘And a porter thinks I’ve been beastly towards him.’ May was mixed up about how she felt about Richard, especially now he’d saved her from what could have been a serious injury, or worse. But why wasn’t he prepared to do his bit for his country?
May had one more thing to share. ‘But worst of all is… I can’t manage the responsibility of being a nurse.’ The words came out in squeaky unnatural voice.
‘You’re tired and you’ve had a shock. And you’re doubting yourself. It happens to us all.’
May wasn’t convinced. ‘You were in the raid, you were pooped too, yet you coped.’
‘The difference is I was nowhere near the bomb… Anyway, tell me your definition of coping.’
The surprise request caught May off guard. ‘I haven’t a clue.’
‘It’s staying put.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘You’ve had more than your fair share of terrible things happen to you but you’re still carrying on. More to the point, you choose to care for others when you could do with a bit of love and attention yourself.’
May frowned. She was just doing what came naturally.
‘You’ve stayed to face your lot when you could’ve run away and started a new life.’
; ‘I could never give up on Derek.’ May was appalled at the thought.
‘Exactly. Your strength of character will see you through. You’ll deal with each situation as it arises.’
May wasn’t so sure about that but it was good to have someone who had faith in her.
Maureen raised an inquisitive eyebrow. ‘The friend you’ve fallen out with. I won’t ask what she did but, in my experience’ – her eyes clouded with hurt – ‘bearing a grudge only hurts yourself.’
Before May had time to question her words, Maureen went on, ‘What about the porter you think you’ve been beastly to?’
‘He’s called Richard and he’s a conchie. I just don’t understand how he can face all those brave boys on the ward… He seems a nice man, but I can’t help feeling resentment towards him for it.’ There, she’d confessed how she felt out loud. A thought struck her. ‘He isn’t coping, is he? He’s running away from something.’
‘I think you’re wrong. Imagine what he has to go through with people. Wouldn’t it be easier just to join up and go to war?’
‘Dad says conchies are cowards and it’s an excuse to save their own skin.’
May searched her soul. Did she really believe that? She’d never bothered about such matters before but these days life had got complicated. May had never met a conchie and that made life easier. You could lump people of certain types together and, like Dad, think the worst. But when you got to know someone, someone seemingly considerate and caring, that complicated matters. She couldn’t figure Richard out. Was it possible that he’d rather save his own skin than fight for his country while others (the heartache of Billy’s death returned) made the ultimate sacrifice? She thought of Richard: the concern shining in his eyes, his genuine smile. No. She wouldn’t judge him until she knew the truth of the matter.
‘It takes a strong person to stand up for their principles. It’s…’ Maureen faltered, ‘sometimes easier to give in.’
‘I would dearly like to know why he would refuse to go to war.’
Our Last Goodbye: An absolutely gripping and emotional World War 2 historical novel Page 12