by June Tate
On his arrival, he was taken by a nurse to a single room, nicely furnished, if a little sparse. After all, this was a hospital and not a hotel, he told himself. There was a single bed, a small table and chair, a washbasin and wardrobe. He unpacked then made his way back to the reception, as instructed.
Apparently he had an interview with Arthur Hurst after lunch and he was shown where the dining room was and how to find the consulting room after.
‘If you get lost just ask someone,’ the nurse told him. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony here, James, we like to keep things informal.’
He smiled, thanked her and walked into the dining room.
‘Hello, mate!’ one of the men greeted him. ‘You just arrived?’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘Then grab a tray and join the queue. I’m Tom, by the way.’ He held out his hand.
‘I’m James,’ he said as he shook the proffered hand and walked behind him, picking up a tray. ‘Bit like being back in the army,’ he laughed.
‘In a way,’ Tom replied, ‘but there’s no bloody Boche here, mate.’
After collecting their food, a hearty stew with potatoes and vegetables, with an apple pie and custard for dessert, they sat together and chatted, but neither mentioned their medical problems or the war.
Later James said goodbye to his new friend and made his way to the consulting room where he was asked to wait. I’ve been here before, he thought to himself, but this time with a different man. He wondered what would happen now.
Arthur Hurst was very different from Hugo. He was an army major and had a quiet air of authority about him. He shook hands with James and asked him to sit.
‘Have you settled in your room?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thanks. I’m all unpacked.’
‘Good.’ Hurst handed him a list. ‘Here are the mealtimes. Make sure you have a good breakfast tomorrow because you’ll be working at the farm. A truck will pick you and the others up outside the hospital at 08:00. The kitchen will give you a packed lunch, then at the end of the day, you can have a bath before dinner.’
James looked puzzled. ‘Working on the farm? I don’t understand. When do I start my treatment?’
Arthur Hurst grinned at him. ‘This is part of the treatment. Trust me, James, go along with me. Just do as I ask for the moment. We have a way to go, this is the beginning. Now I suggest you take yourself off outside, get a book from the hospital library, find a quiet spot and relax. Save your strength for tomorrow!’
It was a very puzzled man who walked out of that room. Working on a farm? James couldn’t make head nor tail of the situation, but then he was told this man had a very different way of handling his sort of case. He found the library, chose a book and wandered into the garden. There he found several men sitting, some together, others alone, but all seeming quite happy to be there. He chose a spot on the grass beneath a tree. Leaning against the trunk, he lit a cigarette and relaxed. It was like being on holiday, but tomorrow it was work. What kind, he wondered?
James was given a packed lunch with his breakfast. Tom, his new friend, saw it and spoke:
‘Oh, you’re one of the working party too, eh mate?’
‘Yes, are you?’
Tom held up his package. ‘Yes, me too. I love it, been doing it a while. There’s nothing more therapeutic than digging. It clears the mind.’
They sat at a table together.
‘What are we digging for?’
‘Vegetables. The hospital grow their own. Well, mate, they’ve got to feed the patients. We’ve got spuds, parsnips, onions, beans. It’s bloody marvellous what they’ve done.’
There were about a dozen men who piled into the waiting truck. Tom quickly introduced James and they were soon on their way. On arrival, the men were given spades and forks and sent to a field of vegetables and told to dig, putting the chosen vegetables in boxes to be carted away and the next one filled.
It was a warm day and James found the sweat soaking his shirt, but somehow it was a great feeling once he’d started. It reminded him of his vegetable patch back at the cottage. The banter among the men was amusing and before long it was time for a lunch break. They all made for the shade of the trees where they were given water to drink and some to pour over their heads to cool them down.
An hour later they returned to the fields until four o’clock when the truck came to take them back to the hospital. James couldn’t wait to sit in a bath and soak his aching bones. He was worn out, yet strangely peaceful. In his room, he washed out his shirt and hung it to dry over the washbasin, dressed in fresh clothes and walked out into the garden and sat on a wall. What a strange day, he thought, but what an enjoyable one. He was tired but at the same time content. After all, they’d all worked hard and achieved a great deal between them. It was very satisfying. He would write to Helen tonight and tell her of his first day. She would be surprised. How long would it continue and what happened next, he wondered?
It was a further two weeks of working on the farm before James was summoned for another meeting with Arthur Hurst. By now he felt fitter, was tanned and had settled into the daily routine. The camaraderie of the men lifted everyone’s spirits. He sat in front of Hurst’s desk.
‘My word you look fit, James. How do you feel?’
‘Thank you, I feel great. Still somewhat puzzled by it all, but I’m fine.’
‘No nightmares, I believe?’
‘No, no nightmares.’ James laughed. ‘I’m far too tired for those!’
‘Let’s talk about the war for a moment. It’s the officers who are the men who suffer the most, I’ve found,’ Hurst said. ‘Tell me, honestly, how did you feel as you blew your whistle and took your men over the top to face the enemy?’
‘Bloody terrified, if you want the truth!’
‘Exactly! But you had to set an example. No way could you show your fear to your men, right?’
‘How could I expect them to follow me if I showed I was scared?’
‘And because you and others like you had to smother those feelings, they manifested themselves in other ways. Like in your nightmares. There, nothing stopped the fear. It had to come out somewhere.’
‘I never thought of it that way. But yes, I suppose that makes sense.’
‘Now I believe you are ready for the next step.’
James was intrigued. ‘And what, may I ask, is that?’
‘We have reconstructed, in our own way, the battlefields of Flanders. Tomorrow you and several others will go and fight your war again. Relive your experiences. It won’t be easy but I believe it’s imperative to your recovery.’
James didn’t know what to say. He’d hoped to have put all that behind him and now he was going to have to face it all again. He felt sick to the pit of his stomach.
‘If you say so, sir.’
Helen, unaware of this new scenario that faced her husband, was content to be a housewife, pottering round the cottage and helping Frances exercise the horses. James had written to her telling her about his working on the farm and how much he was enjoying doing so, although unable to understand the reasoning behind it, but Helen immediately saw the result as she read his letters. He was enjoying the task, enjoying the camaraderie of the men, being out in the open at one with nature. He was happy. She could well understand the thinking behind it.
Ann Carson however had no intention of playing the housewife! Yes, she cooked meals for Richard and sometimes she was there to share them with him. A woman came into clean and see to the laundry once a week, which released her time to spend attending various meetings for the charities she supported. In particular, the one where she worked with Clive Bradshaw. She actually saw very little of her husband, which suited her very well, and although Richard complained about the time she spent away from him, she ignored his protests.
Ever since Clive had kissed her in the summer house in the park, she was in a quandary about their relationship. He had made it clear that he wasn’t to be used as a weapon again
st her husband and he hadn’t kissed her again, to her great disappointment. She was playing the dutiful wife in the bedroom, but it was without enjoyment or meaning and she made excuses sometimes, keeping the physical side of the marriage at bay as much as she dare. It was Clive’s arms she longed to feel about her, not those of her husband.
Things came to a head a few weeks later when an annual general meeting had been called for all the branches of the charity to meet in Birmingham for two days and to which the two people in charge of each charity had been invited. In their case it was Ann and Clive
‘Will Richard allow you to come, Ann? If not, I’ll take another member of the committee.’
She was incensed! ‘Allow me? I don’t have to ask permission, for goodness’ sake. I’ll tell him that I’m going, then he can dine at his club whilst I’m away.’
With a deep frown Clive stared at her. ‘Be very careful, my dear. You are in a unique position for a lady of our times. Not many women have the freedom that you have. This may be a step too far for your husband. He might baulk at being told, whereas if you asked for his permission, that would be different. You wouldn’t be undermining his authority.’
She thought about it for a moment and realised that Clive was right. Richard had always maintained he was the head of the house and her time spent away irritated him, she knew that. She also knew it was only after meeting Helen that she had been even more dismissive of her duties as a wife, almost as a punishment to both of them for what might have been between them.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you’re right, of course. I’ll talk to Richard this evening.’
Later, Ann took the time to cook a delicious meal. She changed into one of her exquisite gowns, dressed her hair carefully, sprayed herself with perfume … and waited.
Richard was delighted to see her in attendance when he returned from the hospital. It had been a particularly difficult day and he was weary, but as he smelt the aromas coming from the kitchen he looked at his wife and smiled.
‘You look lovely, have I forgotten something? Is this a special occasion?’
She laughed as she poured him a drink. ‘No, not at all. I realise that I’ve neglected you somewhat as I’ve been so busy. This is my way of making it up to you. Sit down and rest before dinner.’
Over the meal, she asked Richard about his work, appearing for once to be interested, and then she took a deep breath and brought up the subject of the annual general meeting in Birmingham.
‘As one of the heads of the committee, they will expect me to attend, Richard. I do hope you won’t mind me going? I realise it is somewhat inconvenient for you, but as you know, the work we do is of the utmost importance and I really have to be there.’
He was not pleased. ‘For goodness’ sake Ann, I see little of you as it is! Surely they can do without you?’
‘Oh, no doubt they could, but that would mean I would have to spend time catching up with all the changes that are on the agenda, which will mean I’ll have to spend even more time away from the house and you wouldn’t like that.’ She held her breath.
He muttered to himself, then looking very disgruntled, he agreed.
‘Oh, very well. I’ll eat at my club when you’ve gone. How long will you be away?’
‘Only a couple of days, you’ll hardly notice I’m gone.’
He just glared at her and continued to eat his meal in silence.
Ann didn’t say a word either in case he changed his mind, but she was filled with delight at the thought of being away from him and with Clive, staying at the same hotel. She would be the one to make the arrangements and would make sure they were in rooms next to each other.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Back in Newton Abbot, there was a subdued air among the men who were being sent out to the so-called battlefields. They had all been issued with uniforms and as they dressed, their minds automatically returned to their days in the army and the carnage they had seen and tried so hard to forget. Every man was nervous and afraid, and as they left the safety of their rooms at dawn and climbed into the waiting lorries, not one of them spoke.
The following twenty-four hours were horrendous. The men were forced to relive their daily battles, going over the top, to the sound of machine-gun fire, explosives that had been carefully placed so as not to injure anyone, returning to the waterlogged trenches time and time again. Hurst had brought men in who had been designated to be killed and were screaming in mock pain, using fake blood to cover them as they fell. It was so realistic, the patients were calling for the medics to take care of the wounded. It was like the opening of Pandora’s box.
They returned to the hospital at dusk, exhausted and emotionally drained. They piled out of the trucks and went to their rooms.
James closed the door behind him, kicked off his shoes, climbed onto his bed and sobbed until there were no tears left to shed. Then, still fully dressed, he fell asleep.
During the following days, the men were kept quiet and sent daily to a room where masseurs waited for them, giving every man a full body massage until eventually they were sent to a peaceful place in the Devon countryside where there was no work for them to do. Just a quiet place with books to read, walks to be taken, no regimentation at all apart from the opportunity to gather one’s thoughts and to recover.
Four days later the men were returned to the hospital and James was told to report to Arthur Hurst’s office. As he made his way there, he wondered what was going to happen next.
‘Sit down, James,’ said Hurst. He studied his patient for a moment. ‘How do you feel?’
With a smile James said, ‘Rested. After the massages and the time away from here, I feel, yes, rested is the best way to describe my feelings.’
‘Excellent! I think it’s time for you to go home.’
‘Does that mean I’m cured?’
Hurst shook his head. ‘I can’t honestly say you are, but I have high hopes that your condition will certainly improve. I expect you may have the odd nightmare. The sound of a sudden noise I can’t do anything about, nor your fear of confined places; that you’ll have to try and overcome by yourself, if you can.’
‘Going back to the battlefields was horrendous!’ James declared.
‘I know, but it was time to face your fears. I know it was a lot to ask, but I’ve found it’s the only way.’
‘I’d hoped to have put that time behind me.’
‘You buried it! It was time to dig it up and face it and you did.’ Hurst rose to his feet.
‘Any problems, get in touch, but I hope not to see you again, young man.’
James went to his room and packed.
As he sat on the train, homeward bound, he thought about his time spent at the hospital. Working on the farm had been therapeutic, and completely satisfying. The camaraderie of the men, enjoyable. He didn’t remember a time before when he’d laughed so much and had looked forward to the following day with such enthusiasm.
There was no one there to condemn those suffering with shell shock as cowards, as many had been during the war. They had been treated with humanity and dignity, which had alleviated the feeling of guilt. He had faced his fears and survived. It was like being renewed. Only time would tell if it had been any kind of cure, but for no apparent reason, he felt hopeful about the future. He smiled softly. Helen would be surprised when he walked in. He’d purposely not told her of his return, wanting to surprise her.
Helen was in the stables grooming Cleo. During the time her husband had been away she’d been schooled carefully by Frances on how to care for the horses and was now very able. She was brushing down Cleo with a curry comb, chatting away to the animal.
‘We’ve got to keep you looking beautiful for when your master comes home,’ she said, ‘he’ll expect to see you looking pristine.’
The horse gave an answering neigh.
Helen laughed with delight. ‘James always said you understood every word, and to be honest, Cleo, I really didn’t believe him, but I do no
w.’
‘How could you possibly doubt a word I said?’
Helen spun round and let out a cry of surprise as she saw her husband leaning over the stable door. ‘James!’ She dropped the curry comb and ran to him, flinging her arms around him and kissing him soundly.
‘Perhaps I should go away more often,’ he teased.
‘Oh no! Please tell me you’re home for good and not just a few days.’
Holding her close he said, ‘No, darling, they’ve kicked me out. Now I’m all yours … and of course Cleo’s too.’ He opened the stable door stepped inside and stroked the nose of his favourite horse. ‘Hello, old girl. It’s so good to see you again.’
Half an hour later the two of them entered the kitchen of the manor house, where James was greeted warmly by the cook, before they went into the drawing room to find his parents.
Edward put down his paper and, getting to his feet, greeted his son with a warm embrace.
‘James! What a lovely surprise and, my God, you look well.’
Frances rushed over to kiss him ‘How lovely to see you, darling. It’s seemed such a long time ago. We wondered when you would ever return.’ She poured them all a glass of sherry.
He told them about his time spent in Devon, about working on the farm, the massages and the time spent in the country, but he left out the war games, as he now thought of his day in the trenches. Those he didn’t want to talk about.
After a while, the two of them left the manor and went to their cottage. James looked around and remarked on some of the changes Helen had made. The new cushions and curtains, furniture moved. Then he held her.
Nuzzling her neck he said, ‘You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.’