A Nurse's Courage

by Maggie Holt

  Kate Chalcott leapt out of bed and threw on a dressing-gown; Mabel thought she was at Booth Street with Zeppelins overhead. Shaking herself free of sleep, she thought some woman was being attacked and rushed after her aunt.

  Within two minutes Miss Chalcott had taken charge of Miss White and Mabel led Harry back to his bed, to the accompaniment of sympathetic noises from the other three men. She replaced his pyjamas and re-bandaged his shoulder, tucking in his white and lifeless right arm. She kissed him, she soothed him and told him that everything was all right, it had only been a dream, a silly woman making a fuss about nothing. Miss Chalcott brewed tea for everybody and settled Miss White on the couch in her office, while she herself took over the night-sitting. This would be told all over Belhampton, she thought crossly, and would lose nothing in the telling. She blamed herself for taking on a hysterical spinster for such a responsible task, but her heart ached for the young couple and their blighted hopes. She decided to ask Dr Forsyth, the general practitioner, to arrange for Harry to be seen at a Military Hospital at Aldershot, for another opinion.

  When Harry had fallen asleep, Mabel rose and went back her room where she beat her head with her fists and bit her pillow to stop herself crying out aloud at such injustice.

  If Harry was an object of sympathy, so was Alice, who was clearly under great strain. She had lost weight and was ‘a bundle of nerves’, as her Aunt Nell remarked. Although Mabel’s time was taken up with Harry, she was of course concerned for her sister and Gerald.

  ‘How did yer find him this afternoon, Alice?’ she asked gently. ‘Was he talkin’?’

  ‘Yes, of course he was, there’s nothing wrong with his brain. It’s just that – all those bandages, and that one eye staring at me – oh, leave me alone, Mabel, for God’s sake!’

  Mabel drew a deep breath and spoke quietly to the unhappy girl. ‘Alice, dear, if yer don’t want to marry Gerald, yer don’t have to. Just be kind an’ see him through this bad patch, and when he’s better yer can talk it over.’

  Alice turned to her with a face full of misery. ‘Thank you, Mabel, I know you mean well.’ And disappeared before another word could be said.

  She was desperate. Her October period had not arrived and something would have to be done – and there was only one person she knew who might be able to do it: she would have to pocket her pride and appeal to the sister she had despised.

  And yet she put off the moment from day to day, hoping against hope that it would not be necessary.

  Visiting Gerald at the Military Hospital with his parents was a recurring ordeal for her.

  ‘Hello, Gerald.’ Her voice sounded thick, unfamiliar even to herself.

  ‘Alice. I’m sorry, you’ve waited so long, and now – this.’ He too sounded different.

  ‘Is it very painful?’

  ‘Not so bad now. Thanks for coming over. I’d kiss you if I could.’

  ‘Can you walk, Gerald?’

  ‘I have done, yes. They’re going to get me up and trotting around before the skin operation.’

  ‘So it won’t be long before – before you can come home, then?’

  ‘Don’t really know. This Gillies chap is talking about a graft of some sort – from my thigh.’

  ‘Gerald, I – oh, Gerald –’

  ‘Hey, steady on, old girl, can’t have you crying! I’ll be all right, you know – face won’t ever be the same, I dare say, but nothing wrong with the rest of the works. Alice – dearest Alice –’

  When Mr and Mrs Westhouse tentatively entered the room, they found both their son and Alice in tears, and an air of constraint between them which was hardly reassuring.

  The army surgeon at the Cambridge Hospital in Aldershot shook his head after examining Harry. In spite of daily massaging by Mabel, there was wasting of the muscles of the right arm.

  ‘The scapula was so broken up that there’s no socket for the head of the humerus to fit into,’ he told Mabel. ‘And there’s damage to the nerve supply.’ Lowering his voice, he added, ‘I think he should go back to the military hospital, my dear. I’ll write a letter to Colonel Tressider.’

  A little later he passed her in the corridor, talking in low tones to a colleague, and Mabel’s sharp ears overheard a chilling remark.

  ‘Never be any more good, that poor devil. God, what a waste of a life. Terrible, terrible.’

  And she had to smile brightly for Harry.

  Miss Chalcott was very sorry to lose them both, but there was an element of relief too in knowing that Harry was to receive expert attention. He had been at Pinehurst for over a month without any noticeable improvement and she felt that the sooner he was back at Church Lane, the better.

  On the evening before they were due to leave Pinehurst, Mabel went into Miss Chalcott’s study to make a list of everything she had to do. There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Mabel – may I speak with you for a minute?’

  ‘Alice? Oh, come in, dear – how was he this afternoon?’

  At the sight of her sister’s face she held out her arms and Alice flung herself into them.

  ‘Oh, Mabel, Mabel, you’ve got to help me, or I don’t know what I’ll do!’

  ‘Hush, hush, dear, tell yer big sister all about it – ssh-ssh, ssh-ssh.’

  And as Mabel stroked the dark head on her lap, her heart sank and she braced herself for what she was about to hear. Never before had she seen the haughty, imperious Alice Somerton in such a hysterical state. If she had changed her mind about marrying Gerald Westhouse, there was no real problem: it would be a nine-day wonder and Alice would be labelled a cold-hearted jilt, but it would blow over. No, this was something worse and Mabel prayed that her sister might be spared the terrible disgrace that would befall her if . . .

  But when Alice raised haggard, tear-filled eyes, Mabel’s worst fears were confirmed.

  ‘Oh, yer poor girl, me poor sister – ye’re expectin’ a child.’

  ‘Yes, Mabel, this is the second month I’ve missed – how did you know?’

  ‘I knew it couldn’t be anythin’ else. Was it young Savage?’

  Alice stared aghast, her hand to her mouth. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Nobody told me anythin’, I saw for meself that afternoon we went up to the Hall for tea. I’m not daft, yer know, Alice.’

  ‘I was so sure he loved me and wanted to marry me, Mabel – but I haven’t heard a word!’

  ‘Hush, don’t start cryin’ again. Listen, ye’re not the first, an’ yer won’t be the last. I’ll do what I can for yer, dear, an’ to start with I’ll break the news to our aunts –’

  ‘What? No, no, for heaven’s sake, they mustn’t know, not ever!’

  ‘My dear, they’ll have to know, o’ course they will. And I can get yer into the Agnes Nuttall Home nearer the time – y’know, the Women’s Rescue off Lavender Hill, where I worked –’

  ‘No, no, Mabel, not that!’ Alice cried. ‘I don’t want to have it, I want to be done with it, finish with it, have it taken away, and you’re my only hope, can’t you see? You’re a midwife and you used to work for Grandmother Court, you must know what to do!’

  Mabel straightened herself up. ‘Yer don’t know what ye’re talkin’ about, Alice. Grandmother Court was a bad woman and yes, she did abortions for women who could pay her charges. I know of one who died and another nearly bled to death – I could tell yer stories that’d make yer hair stand on end. D’ye know that a doctor can be sent to prison for performin’ an abortion? An’ so can a chemist for supplyin’ a drug to cause one – and risk killin’ the woman as well as the child? No, Alice, I can’t help yer in that way, but I’ll do all I can to get yer into a home where ye’ll be looked after and delivered –’

  But Alice had got to her feet, her eyes blazing. ‘No, don’t say any more. I might have known you’d come over all holy and righteous. And don’t you ever breathe a word to the aunts, do you hear me? Not a word!’

  ‘Alice, I beg yer, don’t go and find some woman
to do it for yer – it could be yer death. Let me help yer!’

  ‘I don’t want that sort of help. And I don’t want anybody else to know. Forget I ever asked.’

  For Alice Somerton had thought of another way out. It would need a lot of nerve and stamina, but she was desperate enough to give it a try.

  Both aunts and Daisy accompanied Mabel and Harry to the station on a chill, misty morning, packed into Thomas Somerton’s car.

  ‘You’ll let us know what happens, won’t you, Mabel?’ said Aunt Nell, while Daisy blinked back tears of disappointment that poor Harry was was no better than when he had arrived, and now he was taking Mabel away again. There seemed to be nothing to look forward to any more.

  ‘Remember that whatever happens, you can always bring him back to Pinehurst, Mabel,’ said Aunt Kate in a low voice. ‘While the war’s on and after it’s over, he’ll always be welcome here, as long as I’m alive.’

  ‘God bless yer, dear Aunt Kate!’

  And Katherine Chalcott saw again her lost sister Anna-Maria in the face of her niece.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘I’M VERY SORRY about Captain Drover, Nurse Court, but my concern has to be with the patients here. You’ve taken four weeks of unpaid leave and now I need to know that I can rely on you to stay on my staff.’

  ‘Yes, I can stay for the time bein’, Matron, until I know what’s happenin’ to him.’

  Matron frowned. ‘What exactly do you mean by that, nurse?’

  ‘I’ve taken him back to the military hospital at Church Lane, Tooting, with a report from a specialist at Aldershot. The sooner somethin’s done about his right arm the better.’

  ‘And where will he go when he’s discharged from there, Nurse Court? His parents’ home?’

  ‘That’s what his mother wants, Matron.’

  ‘I see. And until Captain Drover’s future is assured, you intend to remain here at Booth Street?’

  ‘If ye’ll let me, Matron,’ Mabel said anxiously.

  ‘Good. Tomorrow you will report for duty at seven thirty on Women’s I. And get a good night’s rest. All our wards are stretched to capacity and you look very tired.’

  ‘Yes, Matron. Thank yer.’

  After the girl had left the office, Sarah Brewer sighed and rubbed her aching forehead. Sympathy for her nurses must not be allowed to come before her duty to the patients. A year ago she might have been more flexible in such a case, but the staff problem was now so acute that even trained nurses could only take one day off per month.

  Norah was overjoyed to be reunited with her best friend, though naturally very sorry to hear of Harry’s lack of progress and the condition of his arm. ‘Sure an’ they’ll get it sorted out in hospital, darlin’,’ she said, pouring a cup of tea. ‘An’ how are all the dear people at Belhampton?’

  ‘Me aunts and uncle have been very kind, Norah, but I didn’t see much o’ Daisy, and I know she did her best with Harry – but it’s hard for a twelve-year-old to understand such a – such a change in somebody they’ve known and loved for so long,’ said Mabel sadly. ‘It isn’t always easy for grown women,’ she added, thinking of the unfortunate Miss White.

  ‘Ah, God love her.’ Norah shook her head. ‘And Alice? D’ye think she’ll cope wid that poor young airman who’s been burned?’

  Mabel hesitated. ‘Better not ask about me sister Alice. I don’t think she’ll marry Gerald now.’

  But there she was wrong. A rather bewildered letter arrived from Aunt Elinor to say that as Gerald Westhouse had to wait for six weeks before a skin graft could be attempted, Alice had begged his parents to ask if he could come home for a short time. And the next thing to take place after that was a very quiet wedding at a Belhampton church, by special licence because of the groom’s condition. No banns had been called, and only Gerald’s parents and Mr and Mrs Somerton had been present; nobody else had been invited. Afterwards the bride had taken up residence at her in-laws’ home as young Mrs Westhouse. Her devotion to Gerald in his affliction, and her eagerness to become his wife as soon as possible, had taken them all by surprise, wrote Aunt Nell.

  Mabel’s first thought on reading the letter was that Alice had imposed secrecy upon her and, whatever came of this marriage, she was bound to keep her knowledge to herself. When the pregnancy became apparent, and a child was born a full two months ahead of its expected time, whether or not the Westhouses suspected a deception – and what a deception! – Mabel must remain silent. Of course there was always the possibility that Alice had confided in Gerald and that he had agreed to the quick, quiet ceremony for her sake; perhaps he loved her enough to forgive her and save her public shame, even to the point of calling another man’s child his own. Alice had not written, so there was no need to write to her; nor was it Mabel’s place to judge her sister who had proved herself a true granddaughter of old Mimi Court.

  And in any case she had other matters on her mind. Long days on a crowded ward with stints in the theatre, and rushing off to visit Harry whenever she could was hard enough, but at the end of that dark November came another blow. Colonel Tressider suddenly informed John Drover that Harry’s right arm had deteriorated, and he was to be transferred immediately to the Royal Victoria Military Hospital at Netley – ‘where he should have gone in the first place, instead of that convalescent home, in my opinion,’ added the Colonel with a dash of spite.

  ‘It’s a splendid place, overlooking the Solent,’ he told Harry’s father. ‘He’ll have the very best of care, they treat every kind of war injury and there’s a special block for luna— for these cases of so-called war shock. He’s very fortunate to be able to go there.’

  Not surprisingly Mrs Drover turned on Mabel for taking Harry to Belhampton against her wishes and she also blamed the Church Lane doctors for not taking earlier action. ‘Our son’s been shamefully neglected and badly managed,’ she said bitterly.

  But worse was to come. When the Drovers travelled down to visit their son on the day after his transfer, they were told that his arm was to be amputated the following day, to prevent the spread of the gangrene that was affecting his fingers.

  Ruby wept on hearing this, and John Drover covered his face with his hand as he reported it. Mabel had been half expecting it, but still felt that the Lord had forsaken her and the man she had promised to marry. Not to be able to write, except with the clumsy left hand; nor do something as simple as wringing out a facecloth, tying up a shoelace: so many everyday actions needed two hands.

  And he would never play the trombone again.

  Major Drover tried to put a brave face on this latest calamity. ‘He could join the Post Office as a sorter o’ letters, and deliver ’em as well,’ he said. ‘He’ll still be able to help out at the homeless shelters and soup kitchens – or maybe work with other injured ex-servicemen. He could learn to type with one hand. There’s all sorts o’ possibilities.’

  ‘And as soon as they let him out, he’s comin’ back here to be properly looked after in his own home,’ declared Doris Drover. ‘Our boy’ll recover when he’s back in the fold o’ the Salvation Army!’

  Mabel kept her own counsel, for the future seemed dark and unknowable. Her heart ached as she pictured Harry being wheeled to the operating theatre and the merciful oblivion of the anaesthetic – from which he would awake without his right arm. And without her at his side to comfort him in his crippling loss. She would not be able to visit until December the twenty-second, a Wednesday, when she was due for her day off. There were trains running directly from Waterloo to Southampton, from where, John Drover told her, a special branch line of ‘Netley carriages’ took visitors right to the hospital grounds.

  Norah did her best to keep Mabel’s spirits up and Maud came to take her out to tea one Sunday afternoon at a Lyons Corner House café. Alex Redfern was with her, ‘off operations’ for the weekend.

  ‘Sunday’s me only day off from the featre, so ’e’s spendin’ it wiv me,’ said Maud happily, pouring out tea. ‘An’ I s
ays to ’im, “’Ere, let’s take Mabel aht for an hour, get ’er aht o’ that ’ole!”’

  Redfern silently chain-smoked as she chattered and Mabel thought his face had coarsened since she had last seen him. There was a tension in his jaw and deep lines running from the corners of his mouth; it was clear that he still adored Maudie and was happy to indulge her for this hour with Mabel. Towards the end of it he joined in their talk of Harry, which was not only about his amputation, but his strange alienation from family and friends.

  ‘We get them in the Flying Corps as well, poor bastards who’ve broken under the strain,’ he said bluntly, and when Maud shushed him he shrugged. ‘The best of us can only take so much of it.’

  Maud cleared her throat, glanced at Alex and said tentatively to Mabel, ‘’Im an’ me ’ave been talkin’ abaht ’Arry, an’ Alex says ’e can understand the poor ol’ boy feelin’ cut orf from everyfin’ after what ’e’s been frough. The only ones Alex can talk to are the ones ’oo’ve been frough it as well.’

  ‘That’s right,’ agreed Redfern. ‘It separates you from all the rest – your family, your friends left at home, they can’t have any idea of what it’s like to face death day in, day out, and they talk such utter bollocks. I’ve given up on my parents and brother and sisters – they’ll never understand and it cuts me right off from them.’

  He spoke harshly, yet Mabel was grateful, for it was clear that he could indeed understand Harry’s lonely isolation.

  Maud winked at her. ‘If yer was to ask me, gal, I’d say your ’Arry’s better orf wiv ovver men ’oo’ve gorn frough it, an’ there’ll be plenty o’ them at Netley. Time’s what ’e needs, not a lot o’ fussin’ an’ faffin’ from ’is muvver an’ that. ‘E’s got to get over it in ’is own way, in ’is own time.’

  ‘And it could take a very long time, Mabel,’ added Alex grimly.

  The approach of Christmas brought little festive cheer. The so-called Battle of the Somme had ground to a halt in mud and misery, and for the thousands of lives lost, only a small advance had been made. The navy was having better success in that British ships were now blockading German ports in retaliation for the losses caused by the U-boats, and it was causing real hardship to the civilian population.