by CL Skelton
‘Perhaps you had better explain further,’ said the general, taking out his watch and looking at it pointedly.
‘Perhaps I had,’ said Naomi with her sweetest smile. ‘I, or rather I should say we, are a small company of six women. Four amateur and two professional nurses. All of our expenses are being met by the Duke of Beverley, so that we shall be a burden on no one.’
‘I see,’ said the general who did not see at all. ‘Perhaps you will be good enough to continue.’
‘We will travel at the Duke’s expense to the Cape, and once there we propose to place ourselves at the disposal of the Royal Army Medical Corps.’
‘Good God!’
‘We believe,’ continued Naomi, ‘that there will be a great need for trained nurses, and though four of our number are untrained, including myself, we intend to spend the voyage learning the basic principles of nursing from the two real nurses who will be making up our party.’
‘Indeed!’
‘So the first thing that you can do for us is to put us in touch with the senior R.A.M.C. officer at whose disposal we can place ourselves.’
‘My dear lady,’ said Sir Redvers, ‘I cannot in any way support you in such a venture. Have you any idea what war is like? Have you ever seen a man who has been maimed on the field of battle? I can assure you that it is not a sight that I would recommend to ladies of gentle breeding.’
‘I don’t suppose that you would.’
‘I can assure you that it is no sight for a lady.’
‘Have you ever seen a child born?’ she asked.
‘Certainly not.’ The general was shocked.
‘Well, I can assure you that that is no sight for a gentleman. I am quite sure that I and the ladies who are accompanying me will not be frightened by the sight of blood. Nor, if I may be so bold, will we be diverted from our purpose by the disapproval of persons in exalted positions.’
Buller looked at her for a long time until, under his steady gaze, even Naomi had to avert her eyes.
‘Young lady,’ he said at length, ‘I admire your coinage and I admire your motives. I am also very grateful that you came to me with this suggestion. I assure you that there is nothing more important to me than the welfare of the men whom I command. My first reaction was to have you thrown out of my office. But that was wrong, for I think that your offer is genuine, and you might in fact be able to be of service to those troops who are unfortunate enough to become casualties.’ He held up his hand. ‘Before you speak, I want you to know that I cannot promise anything at all. I shall discuss this whole matter with my principal medical officer and suggest that he accept your most generous offer. The final decision, however, will be his alone. If, as I suspect, this war upon which we are embarking results in heavy casualties, then we shall need the services of many ladies like yourself. We can always hope that you will not be necessary. But if you are, I have little doubt but that there are many who will follow you in the same spirit of compassion in which you offer yourselves. Thank you, Miss Bruce.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Naomi, surprised and moved by the general’s ready acquiescence. She had come prepared for a fight and none had been offered.
‘Remember, then,’ said the general in a tone which indicated that the interview was over, ‘no promises, but I shall do what I can. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of dining with you ladies during our voyage to the Cape,’ he added, steering Naomi towards the door.
It took them two and a half weeks from leaving Tilbury before they entered Table Bay and caught their first sight of Cape Town lying before Table Mountain, which was covered by its summer tablecloth of white cloud, and to its right, the two lesser mounds of Signal Hill and Lion’s Head. The town itself was thronged with people, many of them in uniform, for transports had been pouring men into the Cape for weeks past. On the pier where they docked, a full battalion of Highlanders was drawn up as a guard of honour, ready to greet their C-in-C. At last they would get some news. The ship carried not only the C-in-C and his staff, but also a large number of journalists, all of whom were news hungry after spending two and a half weeks cut off from the rest of the world.
There was a lot of coming and going before the general was ready to disembark, and during this time, while the battalion sweated on the quay, they discovered that on the day before, the thirtieth of October, General White had been defeated at Ladysmith and that Kimberley, with Rhodes, was under siege.
None of this seemed to dampen the spirits of the crowds who greeted them as they came down the gangway. Everyone got a cheer, but when Buller stepped on to South African soil, the noise was deafening. It was as if nothing that had so far passed mattered. And now that Buller was here, the whole of this irritating business would be dealt with speedily, and the Boers sent packing off back to their farms, having received a short, sharp lesson that it did not pay to tamper with the Queen’s peace.
After Buller had inspected the guard and the battalion had moved off, he stood for a moment chatting with the colonel. Naomi watched this with an amused smile, and when Buller drove off in the carriage which had been provided for him, she excused herself from her ladies and went over to the Highland officer who was now hurrying to where his charger was being held by one of his men.
‘Would you care to take dinner with us this evening, Colonel?’ said Naomi.
‘Really, madam, I have no time to ‒ Good Lord, Naomi! Where the devil did you come from?’
‘There, Ian,’ she said, pointing at the ship. ‘We are at the St George Hotel and we may be leaving tomorrow. Try and be there by seven.’ She turned to go.
‘Naomi, wait!’
‘Ian Maclaren, I must attend to my ladies. Till seven.’ And she left him open-mouthed in the middle of the road.
Ian watched her walk away. Funny, he thought, after all those years. He could never think of Naomi without a sense of guilt. Victoria apart, she had been the only woman in his life, and though it had been such a long time since those days, and nights, at the Priory Inn at Beauly, every now and then he would find himself remembering. And when he remembered, he would feel remorseful, even while he dwelt on the memory and fantasized about every moment they had spent together, just as he was now doing. He tried to cast the thought out of his mind and told himself that, in any case, it would be impossible for him to go to the George that evening. The battalion was moving tomorrow and there was too much to do. He turned away, mounted his charger, and rode off in the direction of the Lion’s Head.
Those three most prominent features of Cape Town, Table Mountain, Lion’s Head, and Signal Hill, were well within Ian’s view as he set out to return to camp. Signal Hill is over a thousand feet and lies within a mile of the coast. Beyond, Lion’s Head overshadows it and still further inland the skyline is dominated by Table Mountain rising to well over three thousand feet.
It was at the base of Lion’s Head, in open parkland, that the Maclarens had bivouacked. Ian could not help a slight thrill of pride as he saw the neat geometrical pattern of their lines of tents. Now that they were going to war, they had a double conceit: first, they were regular soldiers, trained professionals, and not like the many who had been hastily formed into Yeomanry battalions and the like, men who had rushed to volunteer for the army in the wave of war fever which had swept Britain, but amateurs nonetheless. Secondly they were Highlanders and there were no better fighting men in the world; at least that is how they saw it. As he looked upon those lines of tents, all so exactly alike and military, he thought to himself that they were a little bit straighter, a little bit more precise, and a little bit more army, than any of the other encampments which had sprung up as they prepared to move into battle.
In the centre of the lines their two flags hung lazily in the still sunlight. The Queen’s Colour and the Regimental Colour, soon to be emblazoned with more battle honours. As he looked upon this he cast all thought of Naomi out of his mind. There was work to do. Tomorrow they were on their way to Durban and beyond Durban, the war.
It would be good to get away from the Cape. The town was a seething mass of troops as almost every day brought another ship and with it another thousand men wondering what the hell was going to happen next.
Ian arrived at the lines and sought out Hugh Grant, his second-in-command.
‘What’s the situation?’ he asked.
‘We got back all right, and everything’s well under control. All the gear’s loaded. All that’s left for morning are the tents and personal kit. There’ve been no problems. Your stuff’s already on board.’
‘Any problems with the men?’
‘Not that I know of. I think the R.S.M. is a bit overprotective towards us. There’s very little that he lets get past him. Look, Ian, why don’t you take the night off? You’ve really had no time off since we sailed. Go and enjoy yourself. I’ll hold the fort.’
Ian wished that Hugh Grant had not said that. He would have preferred a crisis which demanded his presence in camp. He was afraid of having the night off because he knew that if he did, he would go and dine with Naomi.
‘Are you sure that you wouldn’t rather take the night off and I’ll stay here?’
‘Quite happy where I am,’ replied Hugh. ‘I’m not one for the gay life. Can’t stand crowds and there are far too many people in Cape Town.’
‘It’s going to be the same in Durban,’ retorted Ian. ‘Everybody seems to be moving up there. What do you suppose it’s all about?’
‘They’ve got Ladysmith bottled up, they’ve got Kimberley bottled up. Could be either of them. My own guess is Kimberley.’
‘Why?’
‘Rhodes.’
‘And Mrs Bruce.’
‘We’ve got to mount a relief column, but I think it’s a toss-up as to which one Buller will go for,’ said Hugh. ‘Anyhow, we’ll find out soon enough. You go off and enjoy yourself. We embark tomorrow at eight. Honestly, there’s no need for you to be back before then.’
‘Donald is in Kimberley as well,’ said Ian, ‘and his whole family. I hope it’s Kimberley.’
‘Well, you’re not going to find out anything tonight. Far better spend it with a pretty girl.’
‘What a hope,’ lied Ian. ‘But what if the C-in-C wants me?’
‘If he does, I’ll go. He can’t expect you to hang about just on the off chance. The only thing we’ve got is a medical inspection after the men have had their tea, and I for one am not going to watch several jocks lift their kilts and cough. After that, they are not allowed out, but I think they’ve organized some sort of a concert. I’ll go to that and that’s all there is.’
Ian felt that he was being forced into a corner. ‘Well,’ he said reluctantly, ‘I suppose it will be all right.’ Damn it, he thought, why did they have to go and provide that bloody silly guard of honour to meet Buller. He knew the reason, of course. They had been in Cape Town a week, and it was a chance to give the men something to do. They were getting bored after two and a half weeks on a trooper and then sitting idly in camp; anything was better than having a thousand men sitting around with nothing to do. Still, he was surely making too much of this whole business. After all, Naomi was a great friend of the family, and it would be churlish of him to refuse her invitation. If he had seen her before she had seen him, he would certainly have invited her to dinner, especially as they would probably not meet again after tomorrow, at least until this lot was over. They were not dining tête-à-tête; there were six of them. No, he would have dinner, listen to a lot of female conversation, and come back to camp, and that would be all there was to it.
‘Thanks, Hugh,’ he said. ‘I’ll take the night off. Tell my servant that I’ll probably be quite late.’
‘Good man,’ said Hugh. ‘And don’t worry. If anything crops up, I’ll deal with it.’
Just as he was about to leave the lines, he ran into Gordon Bruce. The whole problem was solved. He would ask Gordon to go with him; after all, Naomi was his sister, so what could be more natural?
Gordon saluted. ‘Hello, Gordon,’ said Ian. ‘Are you busy tonight?’
‘No, sir, everything seems to be done.’
‘Well, don’t worry, we’re off to the war tomorrow. There’ll be plenty to do then.’ He was about to say more, but he did not. He left the camp alone, almost furtively, committed at last to ‒ what? He tried to tell himself that he did not know.
She was waiting for him in the lounge of the hotel. She had changed into an evening dress, low-bodiced, tight waisted, which clung to the contours of her hips before flaring out into a bell-like skirt which swept the ground in a tiny train, emphasizing the curve of her back. It was trimmed with lace, and the bodice left her shoulders and the upper part of her bosom bare, revealing that near perfect creamy skin that Ian found himself remembering so well. Her long neck was completely without ornament, and her hair was piled up on top of her head and encircled by a single rope of pearls. She looked very beautiful, but it was the colour and the material of her gown which struck the most significant chord in Ian’s memory. It was of orange silk, and though it lacked the polka dots, it took him back over the years to that first time in Beauly Priory Inn. But what was most obvious, more so than even the dress, was the fact that she was alone.
‘Hello, Ian,’ she said in her slow, husky voice. ‘I thought that it would be nicer if we did not have anyone else here. I am sure that you don’t want to listen to a lot of silly women’s talk.’
And Ian felt guilty because he was glad that he had not brought Gordon.
‘Gordon’s here, you know,’ he said.
‘Yes, I do know. I was afraid that you might bring him.’
‘Would you like a drink before dinner?’ he asked.
‘Why don’t we go straight in; if you want anything, you can have it at the table.’
The meal passed quietly. There was a lot to talk about, family and friends, but there was really nothing new that they could tell each other, as they had both left England within the same week.
After dinner, as they sat in a quiet corner of the lounge and slowly drank their coffee, Naomi said, ‘It’s a long time, Ian, isn’t it?’
‘What?’
‘Since we first sat together in a hotel lounge.’
It was a long time, all of those years which now seemed like only yesterday.
‘You remember?’ he said.
‘How could I ever forget?’
‘Do you regret any of that?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘How could I? Do you?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I told Victoria, you know. She had already guessed that it was you.’
‘Of course she did.’
They were silent for a while, gazing into their coffee cups. ‘So tomorrow you go off to the war,’ said Naomi.
‘Well, we’re off to Durban, anyhow. I suppose that they have something planned for us.’
‘Does it frighten you?’
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Not until afterwards.’
‘We might be going to Pietermaritzburg,’ said Naomi. ‘It’s not far from Durban. There’s a big hospital there and I was talking to an R.A.M.C. officer this afternoon who said that they needed more nurses out there. Do you think that it’s going to be a long war?’
‘I wish I knew,’ said Ian. ‘It shouldn’t be; after all, there aren’t many of them and there’ll soon be a damned sight more of us.’
‘So,’ she said, ‘tomorrow we go our separate ways. You to your masculine world and I to my feminine world.’
‘Yes,’ he replied.
‘Why don’t you stay the night?’
He tried to stem the desire that was rising within him, for Naomi Bruce was a very exciting woman. ‘I can’t,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘I’m a married man with a large family.’
‘Would it be wrong?’
‘It wouldn’t be right.’
‘But would it be wrong?’
‘I don’t know. Do you want to?’
‘Yes.’
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br /> ‘So do I.’
‘We wouldn’t be hurting anyone,’ she said. ‘What have we to lose?’
‘Honour.’
‘Only if you take it too seriously. I am very fond of you, Ian. Once I was in love with you. I have known many men since those days we spent together. For me, it has always been an act of friendship, a way of finding comfort. If you like, a way of escaping from the realities and the hypocrisy of the world and society. Probably tonight is the last chance for either of us for a very long time. For me, it would be a comfort and a memory, no more than that. If it would be the same for you, then you are welcome in my bed.’
Now he couldn’t answer. He tried to think of Victoria, but she was a vague, shadowy image, not real, part of another world.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘Not really. Neither of us is losing anything. Your coffee is getting cold.’
And then, just as she had done so many years ago, she held out her hand for his.
‘Come, then,’ she whispered. ‘Tomorrow, it never happened.’
And he let her lead him out of the room.
Chapter Four
‘Behold the might of Empire.’
Private Maclaren looked balefully at Private Donaldson. He would like to have replied, but he could not match Donaldson in rhetoric. Besides, if he had opened his mouth, he would have got a throat full of fine brown dust.
‘See,’ said Donaldson, ‘how Britain’s might stretches from horizon to horizon.’
‘Aye,’ muttered young Maclaren, and snapped his mouth shut, totally unimpressed by a man who talked like an officer and neither drank nor smoked, and who knelt by his palliasse every night and said his prayers.
He should have been impressed, though. For as far as the eye could see, both in front of them and behind them as they plodded north, stretched the long khaki dust-strewn column. It moved slowly along, like a long straight animal with a million legs.
There were mounted men ‒ the fortunate ones, the cavalry and the officers on their chargers, and squadrons of irregular mounted infantry from the Cape. It was mostly the horses that suffered for them. There were guns, wagons, teams of oxen which assured the men of a hot meal at least once every day and slowed down their progress in the process. Mile upon mile of them, ambulances, all the specialized services like cooks and farriers, doctors, but most of all the men, the poor bloody infantry. There were in all nearly eighteen thousand of them tramping slowly over the dust-strewn, rocky-outcropped veld as they headed north from Pietermaritzburg in the direction of a small shanty town called Colenso.