by Deborah Carr
“This needs cleaning and re-dressing, but other than that it’s fine.” He took the scissors and cutting through the bandage on the soldier’s leg, studied the wound in silence. “Your instincts were right, nurse. This wound needs urgent attention. Put a temporary dressing on it and arrange for him to be brought through to be operated on.” He walked away without looking at her to the other side of the bed and checked the patient’s other arm. “Fine.” He finally looked up at her. “Do the same with this arm, as the other and I’ll call for two orderlies. By the time they get here, you should be finished.” He stared at her silently for a moment, before adding, “Well done, Nurse Le Breton.”
She watched him walk away, his broad shoulders drooping slightly and wondered if maybe the strain of his work was beginning to get the better of him. She could not help thinking that he was a good man, and hoped she was right. It was sometimes hard to tell.
“What are you day-dreaming about, Nurse Le Breton?” Sister Brown bellowed, glancing at Doctor Sullivan before shooting a disapproving glare at Alice. “Concentrate on what you’re supposed to be doing. If you find yourself at a loss for something to do after that, I’ll direct you towards urgent work that necessitates your attention.”
The older woman glowered at her. Alice could not understand the cause of her distain, she was not aware she had ever done anything that could rankle her in any way. She could see that Sister was waiting for her to do or say something. Alice turned her attention to cleaning and redressing the soldier’s arms.
“He’s fine to go now,” she said to the two orderlies who had arrived. She watched them carefully transfer the boy onto a stretcher. The grey pallor of the young man was worrying, and she hoped she would see him again. After being so brave, didn’t he deserve to survive?
Noticing Sister Brown watching her from across the ward, Alice itched to find the doctor to plead with him not to speak to matron. What if he had already done so. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and set to stripping the bed and bundling up the filthy discarded bandages. She tried not to let the woman’s silent observation of her put her off what she was doing, but it was a little disconcerting. Refusing to give in to the passive bullying, she focused on the task in hand.
Alice looked away, peeking out of the corner of her eyes to check the ghastly woman had indeed left and gone to bother some other poor nurse.
“She’s a right old cow, that one,” whispered a young soldier with a bandage covering half his face. “She’s always picking on you younger ones and creepin’ up to the doctors. Can’t stand ‘er, myself. We think she fancies that surgeon bloke, Doctor Sullivan.”
So, was that it? Alice wondered Did Sister Brown think Alice was closer to the doctor than she actually was? As amused as Alice was by the patient’s attempted words of comfort, she bent to puff his pillow and straighten his bedclothes. “I couldn’t possibly agree, or disagree with you,” she said smiling at him, enjoying his cheerful mood and the distraction from her concerns. “Do you need me to fetch anything for you?”
“No, thank you,” he said, smiling up at her. “You get on with what you need to do before the old bag comes back.” He glanced at the doorway and then back at Alice. “She will, you know. Mark my words. I know ‘er type. I ‘ad a Captain like her before this ‘appened,” he said pointing to his bandaged head. ‘Was always appearin’ and tryin’ to catch us out. Nasty bugger.”
“He sounds vile,” Alice agreed. “Right, if you’re happy, then I’ll get on.”
She knew she should not encourage him to say such things, but at that moment it helped her feel better about what had happened. Encouraged by the thought that it was not her actions behind Sister’s nastiness, Alice moved on the next patient.
Eventually, it was time for her break and she hurried towards the theatre, hoping to find the doctor. If Sister Brown liked him then that was her issue. Alice needed to speak to him and sort things out. Nothing was going to get in the way of her spending time with Ed, not if she could help it. She paced back and forth for a few minutes, before the doctor marched outside, undoing his bloodied apron. He spotted Alice.
“Are you waiting to speak to me, nurse?” he asked finally ridding himself of the apron.
She held her hand out. “I’ll take that from you, if you like.”
He narrowed his eyes and passed it to her. “Nurse Le Breton, do you wish to speak to me? I have five minutes’ break, so if you do, then you’ll need to accompany me to the canteen. I’m parched.”
Nodding gratefully, Alice ran to keep up with his fast pace. “I wanted to know if you’d changed your mind about reporting me to matron?”
He stopped and swung round, glaring at her. “Why would I do that?”
She hadn’t expected him to look hurt by her question. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Then why ask?” He walked on, shaking his head. “For your information Nurse, I have other more pressing matters to focus on. So, to answer your question, no, I haven’t changed my mind.” They reached the canteen and he stopped, facing her. “Nor will I.” He stared at her for a moment, his disappointment in her obvious. “Good day, nurse.”
She had been dismissed. Realising that her leave was safe, she focused on the fact that it would not be long until she saw Ed again. The thought lifted her mood, despite her being unable to forget the look in the doctor’s eyes. Aware that her break was at an end, she returned to the ward to carry on with her shift.
Chapter 22
Gemma
July - 2018
Gemma leant as far forward as she could without toppling onto the grassy bank. She was determined to reach the sunshine yellow marigolds. Hopping down onto the pathway near the field, she strolled back to the house as swallows swooped above her before diving in formation over the field. She doubted she had ever experienced a more blissful day. She expected Tom back today. Their venture out had been fun, and she had enjoyed seeing another side to the reserved handsome man.
She spotted the letter on the doormat when she walked into the living room. Why did she never hear the postman when he came to the house? She stepped over it and grabbing the vase from the windowsill took her yellow flowers into the kitchen. Pouring water into the vase, Gemma suspected she knew who the letter was from. She popped most of the flowers into the water, and then picking up a small glass, did the same with the rest. They would brighten up her bedroom, she mused putting the larger vase back on the living room windowsill before carrying the glass up the stairs and placing it on her bedside table.
Gemma stood back to study the effect and then, unable to put off the inevitable a moment longer, returned to the living room and picked up the letter. Checking the frank mark, she could see it was from the trauma clinic. The time had come to make her decision, she thought, sadly.
Gemma tore open the envelope. Unfolding the single piece of paper inside she read it twice.
Dear Miss Kingston,
Despite our attempts to contact you on three separate occasions, we are yet to receive a reply. As I am sure you are aware, your position at the centre requires filling. Unless you confirm within the next seven days from the date of this letter whether or not you will be returning to your position, we will assume that you are serving your three months’ notice from the above date and will look for a permanent replacement with immediate effect.
She checked the date of the letter. It had taken two days to reach her, which meant she needed to reply in the next day or so if she was to ensure the letter reached the Trauma Clinic by the deadline.
Gemma stood at the open front door and folding her arms stared out across the small front lawn, listening to the birdsong. How could she leave this place now? It had become her home, her sanctuary. What was calling her back to England? Nothing much.
Sighing, she sat down on the doorstep. She had very little in the way of savings, but she did have her flat. She could sell that, but where would she live? It couldn’t be the farmhouse, she was suppo
sed to help sell this place, not keep it for herself.
No, she had little choice. It was time to be sensible. Tom would carry on with his life, she thought miserably, and she should focus on returning to hers. Standing up, she took the letter and placed it on the table. She would reply later. First, she was going to enjoy her day. After all, how many other days like this was she going to experience?
She stared at the batches of Alice’s letters on the table. She only had one more to read from the first batch. She had initially suspected Alice of having two sweethearts, but now knew that Peter was covering for her and Ed. Her mood dipped when she realised that she would have to leave Alice’s letters behind.
Someone rapped on the door, disturbing her thoughts and Gemma looked up to see Tom silhouetted in the doorway, the sun bright behind his back. For a split second she pictured Alice sitting where she was looking up at Ed in the same way.
“Hey, what’s up?” Ed asked rushing over to her, hugging her from behind. “Did you read something sad in one of Alice’s letters?”
She shook her head. Pulling a tissue from her shorts pocket, Gemma blew her nose. “No,” she said taking a deep breath to give her the energy to say the words that needed to be spoken. “I’ve received a letter from work. I need to let them know today or tomorrow whether or not I’m going back, or they’ll fill my position.” She felt Tom’s arms stiffen slightly.
“And, if you don’t?” he asked eventually.
Gemma turned to face him, causing him to have to move back from her. She hated to see the look of disappointment on his face. She knew exactly how he felt.
“I have very little choice, really don’t I?” There, she had said it. This was the real world.
“You always have a choice,” he said, a sadness of his own creeping through.
“Not realistically. I don’t have any other skills, for a start,” she said, thinking about the desperation of the patient Alice had mentioned in her notes on the back of the most recent letter that she had read. “And I need money to live on.” She raised her hands in despair. “I could sell my flat but then I’d need to use that money to buy somewhere else to live.” She cleared her throat.
For the next few seconds the only sound in the room was the birdsong coming from the garden. “I don’t want you to leave,” Tom said eventually.
Delighted to hear his admission, she said, “And I’m not ready to go. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
“Come here,” Tom said, opening his arms.
Gemma stepped into them without a seconds’ hesitation. She closed her eyes as he held her tightly against his chest. If she was honest with herself, loving the house was only part of her problem, she also loved Tom. She didn’t want to leave him. She took a shuddering breath. He had said he didn’t want her to leave, but did he feel as deeply about her as she did him? Enough for them to make it work if she did stay?
“You say you’ve got time before having to give them your answer?”
She nodded, breathing in the fresh laundered smell of his white tee-shirt. “Yes, but only for a day or two,” she replied, unsure why she should delay the inevitable. “I may as well get it over with.”
“Don’t reply just yet,” he said. “Take what time you have left to consider all your options.”
She knew he was right. However, she was too used to dealing with issues by making a considered but quick decision and living with the consequences. Gemma could not bear uncertainty, it unnerved her. She was sure this was partly why she had felt unable to cope towards the end at the trauma unit. She puffed out her cheeks. There was nothing stopping her from doing as he suggested, only her own fear.
“Fine, I’ll give it until tomorrow,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. There, she thought, I’ve done it again. Made another snap decision.
“One of the things you do need to consider,” Tom said letting go of her. “Is, who’ll complete this work and show prospective buyers around if you do return to your job?”
“I suppose Dad can pay you to finish the work, if you’re free,” she said, wishing Tom wouldn’t scowl at her like that. “As far as the selling goes, I’d have to secure an estate agent before I leave.” Her thoughts began gathering momentum. It was doable, she decided, feeling a little more confident. “They could hold a set of keys. That way they wouldn’t need to worry about timings for showing the farm to prospective buyers.”
“So, there’s no reason for you to stay, you mean?” He asked, pushing his hands into his jeans pockets.
Practically, Gemma realised that there was no reason at all. It was a little alarming.
“Emotionally I want to stay here, of course I do,” she said, relieved when he seemed to cheer up a bit. “I’m not ready to go. I have letters to read,” she looked down at the remaining batch.
“And?”
She tried but could not voice her thoughts. What if he didn’t feel the same way? Locking eyes with him, she wanted to admit what he meant to her. But the thought of being humiliated again, even in this room with no witnesses, held her back.
He stared at her. She could tell he wanted her to say something. But dare she?
Chapter 23
Alice
August 1918
Alice walked hand-in-hand with Ed up to the small farmhouse. She wished she had brought a lighter coat to wear. It was far too hot for so many layers and she was beginning to perspire. He lifted the rusty latch on the wrought iron gate and pushed it open, waiting for Alice to walk through before closing it behind them. Alice could see that someone was trying to keep the place as well as possible under the difficult circumstances where everything from paint to food was scarce. The sight of the peeling paint on the front aspect of the house saddened her. Was the husband away at war? Before she could contemplate other scenarios for the rundown appearance of the place the front door opened.
“Bonjour,” a tiny world-weary woman greeted them as she dried her hands on her immaculate apron. “Vienez ici.”
Ed spoke to the woman in broken French as she welcomed them into her home. Ed placed his hand in the crook of Alice’s back to guide her inside.
Alice smiled at her temporary landlady. She was overwhelmed by an overriding sense of sadness about the place and was unsure if she wanted to stay here. After a few seconds, the woman, who she now knew was a Madam Gaston, indicated for Ed to take a seat at the scrubbed pine table. She then picked up Alice’s small case and motioned for Alice to follow her.
They walked up the creaking wooden stairs, and Alice could see the place was immaculate inside, despite the peeling paint outside. She wanted to see where she was expected to sleep for the next two nights and argued with herself that anything would be better than her camp bed in her shared bell tent, especially if it meant spending precious time alone with Ed.
Madam Gaston pushed back a door on the left-hand side on the landing and waited for Alice to go inside. As Alice walked in, the sunlight pouring into the room almost blinded her. She stepped back away from the glaring light and noticed the utter peace in the room. The window was wide open, and a cow mooed somewhere nearby and birds chirped cheerfully in the trees surrounding the property.
Alice opened her mouth trying to work out how to express her delight, when the ground shuddered as bombs exploded several miles away. The women looked at each other. For the first time, Alice saw the furrows on her brow and wondered how old this woman might be. It was difficult to tell, but Alice suspected that Madam Gaston was much younger than she appeared. She had seen enough people age drastically after experiencing pain. Maybe, she thought the cause of Madam Gaston’s premature aging was due to the strains of running a farm alone. She suspected though that it was due to loss — enduring a life without a loved one seemed to age people so much more than anything else.
She realised the woman was waiting for her to show her approval of the bedroom. Not wishing to cause any further anxiety, Alice nodded. “Trés bien,” she said nodding. “Trés belle.”
&nb
sp; Madam Gaston’s expression changed. Her face lit up, as she showed her relief that Alice liked the room. Alice wondered how she must have looked when she was younger and before life took its toll on her.
Alice realised that her approval of the room and Ed’s payment for her to stay here would probably be the difference between the woman eating or not over the next few days. How difficult it must be to run this place without any help. She wondered if the woman had any sons living at home with her.
“Vous vivez seule, ici?” Alice asked, assuming she must live alone because there was only one other bedroom by the looks of things.
“Oui,” the woman answered lifting a corner of her apron to dab at her eyes. “Mes fils et maris sont morts.”
Sons, and her husband, all dead? What, all of them? She daren’t ask. Alice could have bitten her tongue to have been so stupid and insensitive to ask if she lived alone. She should have known better. Too busy trying to fill a silence, that was her problem. Horrified, she rested a hand on the woman’s right shoulder. “Pardon, Madam,” she said apologetically. “Je suis vraiment désolé.”
The woman shook her head, “Non, non,” she said, forcing a smile, before leaving the room and returning downstairs. Alice stayed behind to give the woman space to collect herself. Walking up to the window she stared out, breathing in the scent of nearby pine trees, mixed with a vague hint of the distant smoke rising behind them from the bombardment. If she used her imagination, she could almost forget there was a war on nearby. She would certainly try over the next few days. Alice heard Madam Gaston talking to Ed and offering him coffee.
She sat on the side of the bed. It was comfortable and she looked forward to falling asleep in here. She checked her appearance in the small wall mirror and went to join the others in the living room.
“Happy?” Ed asked, nervously.
“Very,” Alice said, relieved to be able to say so honestly.
They drank the thick dark coffee and thanked Madam Gaston as they went outside.