Wartime Blues for the Harpers Girls

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘I don’t mind using china that has a tiny flaw no one notices,’ she said, ‘but if there was a mark on a bag I liked or a snag in my best scarf, I’d hate it. Women are fussy like that… Maggie hated selling those scarves with a fault last time, though a lot of women were glad of them…’

  ‘Yes, I agree,’ Sally smiled at her. ‘Have you heard from Jack recently?’

  ‘No…’ Fear touched Beth’s face, because her husband’s long sea journeys always made her anxious. The merchant ships Jack worked on brought vital supplies to Britain, from raw materials needed for manufacturing to food. ‘Though now they are sending convoys to protect the ships we aren’t losing as many…’ A hundred merchant ships had been lost to enemy U-boats the previous month, but the last convoy from Gibraltar had reached home without loss. It was still a dangerous life, as everyone understood, and Beth could only truly relax when Jack was home.

  Sally nodded but changed the subject immediately, because it clearly distressed her friend. ‘Have you heard from Maggie this month?’ she asked. ‘It is more than two months since I had a letter from her, even though I sent her something a few weeks ago.’

  ‘That isn’t like our Maggie,’ Beth said. ‘She was quiet for months after Tim was killed, but her letters usually come regularly. I had one just over a week ago. Perhaps yours is in the post, Sally.’

  Their friend and one-time fellow worker at Harpers, Maggie Gibbs, was still serving in a field hospital near the French border with Belgium. She’d been out there for ages now but wouldn’t return to England even for a short leave. Her letters said that she had good friends there and stayed at a farm for short breaks.

  Some of the nurses have been to Paris for a few days,

  Maggie had written in one of her letters to Sally.

  I have been asked if I’d like to go. One of the officers takes the girls to the station and they go by train. He meets them when they return and they bring back things for their friends. There are shortages over here, but Paris is Paris and they all buy perfumes and clothes…

  Sally had smiled over that.

  Maggie had told her about some of the seamstresses that made clothes for the big firms who were so expensive.

  I think you might employ some of these little firms to make beautiful clothes for Harpers after the war, Sally. I spoke to one of them when she visited the farm and she told me she is hoping to start up independently when all this bother is over. I’ll get her details from my friend Marie and when we’re all settled again, you can contact her if you wish.

  Sally sighed as she remembered her friend’s letter. Maggie was so much better than she had been for a long time after the man she’d hoped to marry had died. Maggie obviously still thought about Harpers and planned to return when the war was over. Unless she got married, of course. Sally sometimes wondered if there was another man in Maggie’s life, because her letters sounded so much more cheerful. Sally hadn’t said anything, but perhaps it was too soon after Maggie’s fiancé’s death to be certain how she felt. Maggie had loved Tim Burrows so very much. He’d been a pilot and his plane had gone down over the sea. She’d thrown herself into her nursing, giving herself no rest or chance to recover from her grief, preferring to work and help others.

  Dismissing the troubling thoughts, Sally looked at Beth who was expecting her second child. Her first, a boy, was just over a year old and she’d fallen quickly for her second. Time seemed to fly and Beth was happily settled as a mother, though Sally knew she still half-wished she was working at Harpers. ‘So, are you looking forward to the birth?’

  ‘Yes and no.’ Beth looked at her and frowned. ‘I’ve booked into hospital, because I can’t expect Fred to run up and down stairs after me for two weeks. I’m not looking forward to that, but I’ll be glad when the baby is here, of course.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have hired a nurse or someone to help you?’

  ‘I might – but most of them are too busy to live in these days. We lost a good half of our nurses to the military hospitals.’

  Sally nodded. ‘Yes – before the war there were plenty of young girls willing to come in and help out in the store for a few weeks when someone was having a baby, but now they’re all working in the factories or for the VADs.’ Sally silently cursed the war. Damn it for taking away Beth’s husband when she needed him, and Ben to a lesser extent – and damn it for making life harder at Harpers.

  ‘I’d better get home,’ Beth said. ‘I’ll see you at the weekend, Sally.’ She gathered her bits and pieces and they gave each other a quick hug.

  ‘Yes, I’ll look forward to it.’

  After Beth had gone, Sally sat for a moment reflecting on the way life had turned out – not quite as she, Beth or Maggie had expected when they’d first met prior to being interviewed for a job at Harpers.

  Bringing her mind back to the present with a sigh, Sally stared at her stock lists until she felt like throwing them at the wall. Whatever she did, they were not to her satisfaction. Maybe she should close down a part of Harpers’ vast space and make each department smaller. Yet Ben had paid good money to expand their premises and she would hate to take such a step. Whatever she did, she couldn’t make them grow to their pre-war status. It was, purchase the substandard goods and do the promotions that would keep trade ticking over, or see the shelves with empty spaces.

  She picked up a new catalogue showing items for the home made from wood; there was a good range of things, like bread boards, ashtrays, ornaments and book ends. The wording suggested they were using home-grown materials and also recycling recovered timber from derelict buildings. Perhaps she should try a few – at least they would fill some empty shelving.

  Sally reflected that her competitors must be suffering the same problems, including Selfridges just down the road. Perhaps Harry Selfridge had held a larger stock before the war.

  Sally sighed and decided to give up and go home to Pearl and see how Jenny was faring. Her almost four-year-old daughter was running all over the place at the moment. She would take her to the park rather than sitting here worrying over something she couldn’t solve.

  2

  Maggie Gibbs wiped the sweat from her forehead. It was sweltering hot in the tent that housed the most seriously injured men; her head ached and she was feeling drained after a long day. Any moment now she would be off duty and could seek her bed in the small hut she shared with two other nurses now that her friend Sadie Meadows was living at the farm with Marie. What she wanted most was a cool drink and some sleep.

  ‘Nurse Gibbs – can you help me please?’

  Sister Hawkstone’s voice seemed to come from a long way off, but Maggie moved to obey her. Her head had started to thump now, just as if someone was banging a large drum inside it and the senior nurse’s face was slightly hazy.

  ‘What is the matter with you, nurse?’ the sharp voice demanded. ‘I asked you to assist me five minutes ago. I haven’t got the patience for time-wasters! We have injured men needing attention!’

  Maggie tried to apologise, but the words just wouldn’t come. Her tongue seemed glued to the roof of her mouth and she made a gasping sound and then collapsed in a heap at the feet of the irate nursing sister. Everything had gone black around her and she never heard the exasperated shouting that followed her collapse. Nor was she aware of another nurse, Sister Mayhew, giving Sister Hawkstone an equally sharp set-down.

  ‘Can you not see this young woman is exhausted and ill?’ Sister Mayhew asked in a withering tone that made even Sister Hawkstone cringe. ‘She is neither lazy nor stupid but one of the best nurses I have worked with and she hasn’t taken a break since she got out here.’

  ‘Then she ought to have done. Fainting on duty just causes more trouble.’

  ‘She is ill,’ Sister Mayhew said. ‘If you were a caring person you would have seen that and sent her off duty hours ago.’

  ‘I needed her here…’

  ‘Are there no others available or are you determined to kill this particular n
urse?’ the cutting reply stunned the angry Sister Hawkstone for a moment. ‘Maggie Gibbs has worked tirelessly for this service and you’ve taken advantage of her dedication. You should be ashamed. If we didn’t need every nurse we have here, I should seek your dismissal for unfair treatment of a young girl.’

  ‘I didn’t realise she was actually ill—’ the unfortunate sister spluttered, well aware that Sister Mayhew was being promoted to Matron for the hospital and would shortly be in charge of not only this but two other field hospitals, so highly was she thought of in the service. A word from her could blight or even finish Sister Hawkstone’s career. ‘I apologise for not noticing – but we were busy—’

  ‘We’re all busy but we have to take time to look out for our staff as well as the patients,’ Sister Mayhew replied evenly. ‘I shall excuse it this time – but if you neglect another young nurse you will be suspended…’

  Suitably chastened, Sister Hawkstone retired from the lists. She even went so far as to ask one of the other nursing sisters that evening how Nurse Maggie Gibbs was doing and was told she had a fever caught from nursing the soldiers and was seriously ill.

  ‘I’m afraid that if she recovers – and at the moment that is touch-and-go – she will be sent home immediately. She will no longer be able to nurse men at the Front, because of the risk. Should she pull through, her lungs may be affected and another bout of a similar disease would most certainly kill her. We can only hope that she will recover enough to live another kind of life at home – she certainly deserves to after all the wonderful work she has done out here. Sister Mayhew – sorry, I mean Matron Mayhew now – is recommending her for a medal of honour for the way she has dedicated her life to these men – and, of course, she risked her life going up to the front line to bring back seriously injured men when they lost several of their medical men in a raid and was instrumental in saving lives…’

  ‘I didn’t realise she was such a heroine…’ Sister Hawkstone said in a spiteful tone and received a look of disgust in return from the nurse who walked off abruptly. She flushed hotly, realising her bad temper had earned her an unpleasant reputation and the very next day visited Maggie, taking her a bar of chocolate someone had sent her.

  ‘That is kind of you, sister,’ the nurse bathing Maggie’s forehead said. ‘She is too ill to know, but when they ship her out of here, I’ll make sure that it is in her things with a note to say who gave it to her.’

  ‘Oh, don’t bother about the note…’ Sister Hawkstone walked quickly away. Seeing the girl lying there so close to death had brought home to her what she’d done by her careless demands far more than anything Matron Mayhew could say or do and she felt it keenly. It was not her fault the girl had picked up the fever – any of the nurses could catch any number of things in the course of their work – but had she noticed sooner they might have caught it before it got so bad. She turned back after a few steps and asked, ‘When are they sending her home?’

  ‘There is a transport coming at the end of the week,’ the young nurse said. ‘They think she will do better back home – and they say the risk is equal either way. If she is left here, she takes a nurse from other duties and may die in any case. It is hoped that a change of climate and good hospital conditions will improve her chances.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure that’s best for her – and Matron will let her people know?’

  ‘Yes, of course…’ the nurse looked at her in surprise. As she told her friends later, ‘You could’ve knocked me down with a feather. Old fire and brimstone Hawkstone asking a thing like that…’

  ‘Guilty conscience,’ one of the nurses said. ‘She should have noticed Nurse Gibbs was ill and sent her to the doctor. I hate being sent to her ward. She is a first-class bitch…’

  There was a murmur of agreement from the others. Sister Hawkstone was not the most popular of the senior nurses.

  Matron Mayhew was missed on the wards as she now had to move between three field hospitals and had far more paperwork to do than before. However, she was always likely to turn up on the wards and watch you, though if she criticised a nurse, it was always fair. It was the reason everyone liked her. They knew that if they had to report to Matron they would be treated with kindness and understanding but any misdemeanour would be firmly reprimanded and the appropriate punishment would follow, even dismissal if a nurse flouted the rules too much.

  ‘Maggie Gibbs is lucky they’re shipping her home,’ one of the nurses named Mira claimed. ‘My six months is up next month and I can’t wait to get on a ship back to England.’

  Some of the others looked at her oddly, but she ignored them.

  ‘Maggie won’t see it like that,’ Nurse Rita said with a note of authority. ‘I’ve been sharing accommodation with her for three months and she intended to stay out here until it’s over.’

  ‘Will it ever be over?’ a couple of voices asked.

  ‘Maggie said things are getting better,’ Rita said firmly. ‘She says we’re winning, though it might not seem like it yet…’

  ‘Well, where does she get her information from?’ a voice asked. ‘I’ve seen nothing that makes me think it will be over any time soon…’

  Rita shrugged. ‘Maggie said a friend told her that he thinks another year or so will see us out…’

  ‘If she was planning to stay out another year, she’s mad,’ Mira replied.

  ‘She might be,’ Rita said, ‘but it was what she wanted…’

  Maggie was not aware of the debate or varying emotions her collapse had stirred amongst her colleagues. Matron came to see her into the hospital transport taking her to the coast, where she was to be put aboard a ship heading for England. Brave doctors and sailors were risking their lives by coming so close to the coast to pick up the sick men, because while they were stationary, they were sitting targets for the enemy planes and bombardment from hostile ships.

  ‘You’re being taken home to a good hospital, Maggie dear,’ Matron Mayhew told her, gently holding her hand. ‘Your friends came to visit – Marie and Sadie. They brought you some letters, which you will find in your things when you’re well enough to read them.’

  Maggie tried to whisper her thanks. She hadn’t been aware of friends visiting and wished she’d been able to thank them and say goodbye, but she was still hardly able to follow what Matron was telling her and, in the ambulance, her fever took over again and she barely knew it when she was carried on board the ship.

  The ship’s doctor saw how pitiful her condition was and gave her something to make her sleep, which she did throughout a gale mid-channel and woke only when she was being transferred to a hospital bed by porters dressed in white coats.

  ‘Where am I?’ she whispered and a pristine nurse bustled up to her.

  ‘You are in a military hospital, young woman. Your fever is highly contagious and we need to isolate you until you’re over the worst.’

  ‘Am I in France?’

  ‘No, you’re in Wiltshire, England,’ the nurse replied. ‘You are very lucky to be alive, young lady – especially after the journey you’ve had. You can thank Doctor Simpson when you’re well again. He bravely came all the way out there to fetch you and the badly wounded men home.’

  Maggie fell back against the pillows, exhausted. She had no more energy to ask anything, even though she tried to protest that she wanted to return to work because she was needed. Sister Hawkstone would be furious with her for causing all this trouble…

  It was more than a week later that Maggie woke to see a doctor standing by her bed and recognised him as such. He smiled down at her. ‘Well, Miss Gibbs – so you’ve decided to come back to us at last, have you?’

  ‘I didn’t know I’d been anywhere…’ she said and he laughed.

  ‘That serves me right,’ he said good-naturedly. ‘You’ve been very ill and wandering in and out of consciousness since they brought you to us just over a week ago. I’m glad to tell you that you’ve beaten the fever and will now make a full recovery.’

/>   ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Doctor Simpson. I took advantage of a temporary lull in the fighting and brought you back from France in my transport. We fetched two hundred and fifty wounded men home and one very brave young woman.’ He laughed. ‘You are something of a hero, Nurse Gibbs.’

  ‘The men are the heroes, not me.’ She sat up as best she could, grimacing at her own weakness. ‘How soon can I go back to my work?’ Maggie asked and then coughed.

  The doctor frowned and a nurse bustled up, giving her a glass of water to sip and rubbing her back for a moment until the coughing subsided.

  ‘I believe you will work again once you are fit enough,’ he told her. ‘The fever you had kills many men supposedly stronger than you, Miss Gibbs – but we shan’t be sending you back out there.’

  ‘Why not? Did I do something wrong?’ She sat back against the pillows.

  ‘No, indeed you did not. I understand you’re being recommended for a medal of some sort. However, your lungs have undoubtedly been affected by the fever you took from your patients and that means you would not live through another such illness. We only just managed to save you this time and so you will not be returning. Some light private nursing when you’re really well again, or another job – but no more of the strenuous work you’ve been doing – for over two years, so they tell me…’

  ‘Was it that long?’ Maggie asked and closed her eyes.

  She slipped away into sleep and when she woke again, she discovered that Beth and Sally were sitting by her bed and looking at her anxiously. What were they doing here? Beth looked as if she might be pregnant.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Is someone ill?’