‘Your job will be to strip soiled beds and fit them with clean linen. You will collect dirty gauze and towels and take them with the linen to the steam tubs for disinfecting. You will also need to deliver meals to the patients. Many of them are not up to eating, but we offer it anyway. Fluids are important.’
Rose nodded, taking mental notes.
‘You are not to medically treat the patients. That is not your job. If a patient needs medical assistance, ask the nursing staff.’
Rose was still following Matron as she rattled off instructions without pause.
‘You will be assigned to this hospital, which is first class. Third class is across the way and the tents outside house the soldiers. You will be asked from time to time to go out there too. Any questions?’
She didn’t have a chance to reply. Matron Cromwell gestured for Dolly to join them again.
‘You will shadow Nurse Dolly today. She will show you the ropes and assign you tasks.’ Without taking a breath, Matron Cromwell bid them a prompt good day and left the ward.
Dolly removed her mask to speak. ‘All set then, Rose?’
‘I think so,’ Rose said. Her steady voice belied the nerves she felt.
‘I have rounds to do. Best fit your mask and walk with me.’
She followed Nurse Dolly to a bed where a male patient was clutching his stomach in agony beneath the sheets. The sign affixed to the end of his bed stated ‘James O’Grady. 22. Cholera’. He was clammy with fever, as white as the sheets and the stench emanating from him was nauseating.
Dolly lifted the top sheet and frowned. ‘Rose, we’re going to need new bedding here.’
Rose ran to the medicine room and pulled clean linen from the cupboard. James O’Grady cried out as Dolly and a second nurse rolled him onto his side, all dignity gone along with the insides of his bowel. Rose took one look at the state of the sheets and gagged.
‘Pull yourself together, Rose Porter,’ Dolly said sharply.
Retching, Rose worked quickly to gather up the sheets while James received a wash down. The odour was revolting as she scooped everything into a bundle, moved it to the side and remade the bed. She knew she was pale by the time she’d hurried the dirty sheets away to load into the hessian laundry bags. It was a sight and smell she would never forget.
James O’Grady was one of many. As Dolly did her rounds, Rose followed her, emptying dirty chamber pots, pulling soiled sheets from beds, cleaning up vomit, clearing away strips of gauze and refilling what felt like a thousand cups of water.
At lunchtime, Rose scrubbed her hands down with carbolic soap, refitted her mask and returned to the ward to serve meals to the patients. Most of them looked green at the thought of eating, although it was simple bread and broth. Rose returned most trays to the hospital kitchen untouched.
After lunch, she followed Dolly around again. Patients coughed and moaned at her, tried to grab her arm and some were so unresponsive, Rose couldn’t be sure if they were alive or dead.
The children were the hardest to tend to. Their skinny limbs and pale, drawn faces tore at her resolve, as they looked at her with bewilderment, unable to understand what had ravaged their tiny bodies.
The sun was sinking to the west when Rose finally stepped out of the hospital at five o’clock. She was back in her housekeeping uniform, her hands scrubbed and carrying two hessian bags filled with sheets and towels ready for the disinfecting tubs.
She lugged the bags off the verandah steps and sidestepped the sea of tents and patients, stretching all the way to the path that led down to the laundry.
Matron Cromwell was smoking a cigarette on the third-class hospital verandah when she passed. ‘Rose Porter.’
‘Good evening to you, Matron Cromwell.’ She paused in the fading afternoon. ‘Nurse Dolly said I could take these bags to the laundry and finish for the evening. I hope that’s all right.’
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ Matron Cromwell replied on a current of smoke. ‘How was your first day on unhealthy ground?’
‘May I be perfectly honest?’
‘Please.’
‘It was confronting, not like anything I’ve ever seen before.’
‘Not everyone is built for this kind of work, Rose, for watching children die and men drowning in their own lungs. You need an iron stomach and strong resolve.’
‘I have a new respect for the medical profession, that’s for certain,’ Rose said with a smile.
‘And we have the very best here. They’re like angels; there can be no doubt about that.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Will you be returning to us tomorrow?’
‘Yes, Matron Cromwell, if you will have me.’
There was a hint of a smile. ‘And there’s that iron resolve. Leave the laundry bags for tonight. I will have someone else take them down. Get some rest. We will see you in the morning at seven o’clock.’
Rose left the laundry bags by the steps of the hospital, bid the matron goodnight and returned to first-class accommodation. It wasn’t until she stepped back on healthy ground that she finally released a proper breath.
When Rose arrived back at her cottage after her first shift at the hospital, she sat down on her bed and closed her eyes. Bessie had yet to return. It was dinner time and she would be serving the duke his meal now; a routine Rose knew well, one that she suddenly longed for as the images of the day played out in her mind.
She saw the ravaged limbs, wheezing chests and feverish skin of the ill, but it was the children with their pallid faces and terrified eyes that refused to leave her. They were utterly vulnerable and at the mercy of God, a frightening place to find themselves.
Rose let out a long breath and settled back against her pillow. Bessie was hours from returning and Thomas would still be working. She had nowhere to be, her mind ticking relentlessly, unable to hush her thoughts.
She reached across to her bedside drawer and found her diary hidden beneath her underwear and petticoats. She would write about it, she decided, just as she wrote about everything else. Getting it out of her head and down on paper was the best hope she had of making it through the next two weeks.
Using the tiny brass key, Rose unlocked the cover and flicked towards the back to the next blank page, only to realise there were none. She had used up all the pages in her beloved diary. Dismayed, she closed it, locked it and hid it well beneath her petticoats again, intent on placing an order for another one with the postmaster the first chance she got.
At nine o’clock, Rose changed for staff supper and walked down to the kitchen to eat with the other parlourmaids. They were all eager to hear about her experience at the hospital and she filled them in on most things, keeping the more gruesome details for a time when they weren’t digesting food. They seemed to enjoy her stories but Rose sensed that they were mostly relieved not to have drawn the short straw.
Over dinner, Bessie looked like the cat that ate the canary. Her temporary promotion to parlourmaid allowed her to sit at the table with everyone else while the new scullery maid scrubbed the pots. The parlourmaids included her in their jokes, and Mrs March wasn’t so whip-like with her tongue.
Rose was keen to learn about Bessie’s day and as soon as supper was over, they followed the path up the hill to the female staff quarters.
‘How’s the duke?’ she asked eagerly.
Bessie lit a cigarette and blew a stream of smoke out. It swirled then was carried away on the breeze. ‘He’s okay. I don’t think he likes me much.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I’m fairly certain I repulse him.’
Rose laughed. ‘Don’t be silly. He just takes a while to adjust. He was the same when I replaced Miss Dalton.’
‘He actually recoiled when I served him his tea. It’s my hands. They’re hideous.’
‘They will heal,’ Rose said, taking the one that wasn’t clenching the cigarette to give it an encouraging squeeze.
‘Yes and in the meantime, I will just contin
ue to repulse him.’
‘Did he talk to you? He’s quite an intriguing man once he opens up.’
‘He didn’t talk to me. He wouldn’t even look at me. He just kept asking me when you’ll be back.’
Rose squeezed her hand again. ‘Tomorrow will be better, I promise.’
‘I shouldn’t complain. He was just lovely to be around. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I’ve never seen eyes so blue before. He really is the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen.’
Rose giggled. ‘Did you see the duchess?’
‘No. She was quiet the whole day. Doctor Holland was in with her during morning tea though.’ Bessie flicked her cigarette away. ‘What was the hospital really like?’
Rose shook her head sadly. ‘It was like nothing I could have imagined. So much foul disease and helplessness all in the one place. The medical staff are truly special. I don’t think I could do it for more than two weeks, though.’
‘Well hang in there as long as you can. I’m thoroughly enjoying serving the duke, even if he hates it!’
Thomas came for Rose at eleven.
When she was certain Bessie was fast asleep, she pulled on her coat and boots and opened the door. It betrayed her with a creak and Bessie stirred in the bed behind her.
‘Rose, where are you going?’
Rose paused by the door. When she turned back, Bessie was sitting up. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I thought I might take a walk.’
‘A walk? It must be nearly midnight.’
‘Not quite,’ she said as though it mattered.
‘Wait there. I’ll come to keep you company.’
‘No, please, go back to sleep. You have a big day with the duke tomorrow.’
She could feel Bessie’s eyes on her in the dark. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Perfectly.’
It seemed an age before Bessie relented and laid back down in her bed, pulling the covers over herself. Rose let out a trapped breath and crept to the door, closing it softly behind her.
Thomas was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Bessie woke. She saw me leaving.’
‘Do you think she suspects anything?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
They walked quickly and quietly through the trees, hurrying past Asiatics, where the dormitory windows were dark and the outdoor ovens were cooling.
Within minutes, they had reached the path behind the male staff quarters. They scurried through the bush beneath a majestic moon and out onto the clifftop next to Thomas’s cottage. As he had become accustomed to doing in the cooler nights, he collected a blanket from his room to wrap around them.
The wind was brisk high up and Rose burrowed beneath the blanket, Thomas’s arms circling her. She wondered if this was what it was like to be courted, meeting a boy out on a clifftop, kissing and cuddling beneath the stars.
She hadn’t gone out with any of the boys back home. The ones the war hadn’t taken had been snapped up quickly by the oversupply of women and, in any case, they’d held no appeal to Rose, much like the butcher’s son.
Thomas was different. He was some years older than her, that much she knew, and very grown up. He had a gentle soul, a quiet strength, and in that place of sorrow and death, that strength gave her hope.
Thomas was a man of few words, unlike the duke, who thrived on conversation. They couldn’t have been more different. Thomas used his eyes, his hands and his expression to tell Rose how he felt and it wasn’t confusing. She didn’t have to read his mind or guess. They were always in perfect accord.
Bessie had once said that the isolation could make people go a little crazy. It had made Agnes act with promiscuity fifteen times on her bed with soldiers from the troopship Canberra. Perhaps Rose had gone a little crazy too. Perhaps she’d lost her mind. Everything felt intensified in the confines of the station, her feelings for Thomas most of all.
‘Are you warm enough?’ Thomas asked, holding her close.
‘Yes, much better.’
‘Spring is coming. The nights will warm soon.’
‘I’m not sure I’ll be ready for a hot Christmas, though. That will take some time.’
He chuckled and leant down to kiss her and she responded as she always did, with a fierceness that surprised her. They had yet to venture back into his cottage, choosing to sit outside on the cliff where they were less likely to traverse a threshold they dared not cross.
‘How was your first day at the hospital?’
She told him about her work with Dolly, the dreadful things she’d had to clean and the frightened children with eyes too large and round for their tiny faces.
Thomas held her a little tighter when she finished talking. ‘I’ll be happier when the next two weeks are over and you’re back in first class.’
‘It’s gruelling and squeamish work, yes, but I like the idea that I can make a difference.’
‘You can make a difference in first class too.’
‘I don’t think serving the duke his meals counts.’
‘You obviously make a difference to him. He likes you. He wants you and you only.’ Thomas’s jaw twitched.
Rose changed the subject. ‘I wrote on the last page of my diary today. I’d like to get a new one. If you could tell me where you purchased it from, I’ll place my order with the postmaster tomorrow.’
‘I’m glad you’ve enjoyed the diary,’ he said, somewhat happier.
‘Oh, I have. It’s the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received.’
‘I’m pleased to hear that.’ He smiled at her. ‘Rose?’
‘Yes, Thomas.’
‘There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now.’
‘What is it?’
‘Well.’ He seemed hesitant. ‘I’m not sure quite how to say it.’
She sat up on her knees, still swathed in the blanket. ‘Tell me.’
‘It’s just that,’ he looked at her with shy eyes, ‘I don’t think it’s any surprise how fond of you I am and, well, you are someone I could see myself with for a long time.’
Rose’s breath caught.
‘Maybe, on the outside, if I asked you to marry me, you might like to say yes.’ He breathed deeply, glad to have come out with it and even in the dark, Rose could see he was blushing.
She touched his cheek. ‘I would like that very much, Thomas.’
‘I would ask your father’s permission at the time, of course.’
‘I don’t think he would care much what I do.’
‘I’m sure he would.’
‘He hasn’t returned any of my letters.’
They both fell silent, staring out at an ocean that was black beneath a matching sky.
‘Do you mean to stay here long?’ she asked.
‘Maybe until the war is over.’ He glanced at her. ‘Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not afraid of being called up to fight. It’s just that, if I leave here now and you come with me, I’ll be drafted and you’ll be left alone. I couldn’t bear that.’
Rose nodded.
‘Perhaps the war will end soon,’ he said.
‘I doubt it. The duke came here to ask for more troops. That doesn’t sound like the end to me.’
‘Then we will wait a little longer.’ He wrapped his arms tightly around her again. ‘The world outside is changing. Maybe the world in here will change too.’
‘You’re far too optimistic.’
He laughed. ‘Maybe. But it’s not so bad in here. We have everything we need.’
Everything but freedom, she thought.
‘I know you’re not fond of breaking the rules. Neither am I. If Miss Dalton ever found out, it wouldn’t end well for us.’
‘I wasn’t always a troublemaker, you know,’ she said with a frown.
He laughed again. ‘Neither was I. And yet you do something to me, Rose. You make me crazy, like I want to break the rules. Like I need to break the rules.’
She closed her eyes and melded into
him and thought of what a future together would be like outside these walls, with the freedom to grow old, to slip her hand into his and feel him beside her always without the worry of repercussions or condemnation.
‘It won’t be like this for long, I promise,’ he said, as though understanding her thoughts.
She let his words wrap around her and felt his lips in her hair, trying to kiss her worries away.
Rose arrived at the hospital each morning promptly at seven and left well after the sun went down. During the hours in between, she followed the nurses on their rounds and cleaned up after patients who could no longer control their bodily functions. She delivered meals that were refused and learnt to comfort the ill children whose healthy parents weren’t allowed near the hospital.
She was glad to witness the recovery of most patients, though some died and their beds were vacated quicker than Rose could say Spanish Flu. Within minutes, their bodies were taken away to the morgue, their sheets changed and another poor soul was stretchered in to take their place.
Spanish Influenza was indiscriminate, much like a game of Russian roulette. It randomly selected its host with no distinction between the vulnerable or healthy. A seven-year-old child could overcome the virus while a robust man in his twenties succumbed. How vast the world was, how quickly the killer spread to a new host and how insignificant everyone’s place seemed to be on the Earth.
It was lunchtime on Rose’s seventh day at the hospital and she was sitting out on the grass with Dolly eating a sandwich. It was the first week of September, the sun was golden and warm and spring whispered on the breeze. Yellow-faced honeyeaters foraged in the flowers near where Rose sat, searching for leaves so they could build their delicate cup-shaped nests. Their soft, sweet trill filled the air.
Rose stretched out her legs and bit into her sandwich. ‘So where in Ireland are you from?’
‘I’m from Balbriggan in North County Dublin. Sailed here three years ago with my four brothers.’
‘What made you leave your home?’
‘My mother died of consumption when we were little and my father was killed in the war, so I followed my brothers abroad. Our ship was quarantined in 1915 which is how I first came to be here. We weren’t ill, though we completed a stay in isolation, then third class. I was so fascinated with life here that I accepted a job in the hospital.’
The Quarantine Station Page 16