No Place for a Woman

by Val Wood

  ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘It doesn’t.’ She looked up at him. ‘Will life ever be the same again?’

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling, and she thought how handsome he looked with his new trim beard. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It will be different, but not necessarily worse for everyone.’

  ‘Ever the optimist,’ she said, pleased to be off the subject of war.

  ‘You’ll be a fully fledged doctor by then,’ he said. ‘Where will you be, do you think?’

  ‘In Hull; where else? What about you?’

  Oswald gave a droll shrug. He wanted to say Wherever you are, but life was so uncertain and besides, he didn’t want to disturb or upset her composure when there were so many greater issues to consider. Neither did he dare risk losing her affection. What ever would she think of him, the cousin she had known most of her life, declaring his constant and enduring love?

  ‘Who knows?’ he said flippantly. ‘It’s in the lap of the gods!’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Edie had been very nervous when she had stepped off the troop ship into the darkness of the spring evening and heard the chatter of a foreign language, none of which she understood. She’d been tense on the ship too, wondering constantly if they would arrive safely or if they’d be blown up by a mine. It was her first sea voyage and as they drew away from the docks in Dover she thought of the Hull fishermen whose livelihood had been destroyed by the war; her mother had written to say there was no fish to be had in Hull. Many trawlers had been converted into minesweepers and the trawler men retrained to carry out searches in the North Sea and the English Channel. It was dangerous work and many of them had perished.

  There were countless young soldiers on the ship, full of optimism and bravado, and she guessed that this was probably their first venture towards the war zone. The officers asked them to keep their voices down as sound carried across water, and they immediately spoke in whispers. Other soldiers were much more sombre and these she guessed were returning from home leave or convalescence and knew what to expect.

  Other nurses were also on board, a few in the QAIMNS uniform: staff nurses and one sister like herself, for to her great joy she had been promoted before leaving England. Some of them kept themselves separate from those who wore the Territorial Force Nursing Service uniform, which was quite similar except for the badge.

  Edie thought it quite ridiculous; although the QAIMNS were professional nurses, they would have to work alongside the territorial nurses who had volunteered to work abroad, for once they arrived at the hospital all would be desperately needed.

  A motor bus was waiting to convey them to the hospital, which they had been told was only a few miles away. Edie climbed aboard and sat down next to a young nurse who smiled at her in greeting.

  ‘Hello,’ Edie said. ‘Nearly there!’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ her companion said. ‘I’m not a very good traveller. Have you worked here before?’

  ‘No, it’s my first time.’ Edie shook her head. ‘I’m Edie Morris,’ she said. ‘I’m with the QAIMNS.’

  ‘Milly Thomas,’ the girl said. ‘How do you do? I’m with the TFNS. We were told that the QAIMNS nurses might not speak to us. I’m so glad that it isn’t true.’

  Edie leaned towards her. ‘It might be,’ she whispered. ‘But you can speak to me, and remember that your job is just as important as ours, even if we’ve been nursing for longer.’

  ‘Thank you. And some of us are highly trained,’ she added. ‘I’ve been working as a nurse for over three years and I was asked if I’d volunteer to come abroad, which I’m really glad to. My brother enlisted and is somewhere in France, so I thought I might as well. Originally I’d thought of becoming a teacher or a governess, but then my mother was ill and needed me at home.’

  She sighed. ‘After she died I thought that I might make a better nurse than a teacher. I met a young woman a few years ago who was hoping to become a doctor and I was so impressed by her. And although I couldn’t possibly do that, I think I’m probably a good nurse.’

  Edie suppressed a yawn. She probably was. She’d certainly cheer up a patient with her lively chit-chat, but she hoped she had good powers of concentration too.

  ‘What rank are you, Edie? May I call you Edie?’ Milly asked. ‘I was promoted to staff nurse before I came out.’

  ‘Sister,’ Edie said. ‘So you’ll have to give me my title when we’re in the hospital, Milly. Those are the rules, I’m afraid.’

  Milly put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, sorry, Sister. Listen to me, rabbiting on. My tongue always moves faster than my brain.’

  Edie smiled. She liked this young nurse and hoped that they might work alongside each other. They were a long way from home; they would need as many friends as possible in the coming months of what would be a difficult time.

  They were allocated accommodation in the hospital, the QAIMNS situated in a separate section from the TFNS, or the Tiffins as they were quickly named. Edie shared with the other sister, who huffed and puffed about not being given their own rooms.

  ‘I doubt we’ll be on duty at ’same time,’ Edie said prosaically as she placed her few belongings in a chest of drawers. ‘So you’ll mostly have the room to yourself, but if we do have to spend the night together you needn’t worry. I’m a good sleeper and I don’t snore!’

  ‘Well, I didn’t mean—’ The sister was obviously embarrassed by her thoughtlessness, but Edie shrugged it off.

  ‘I’m Edie Morris,’ she said. ‘Formerly from Hull. I’ve been working at Endell Street.’

  ‘Margaret Connors,’ the other woman answered. ‘Manchester. I volunteered to come abroad, did you?’

  ‘No, I was asked if I would come.’ Edie smiled to herself. ‘Hand-picked,’ she added. ‘By Dr Anderson. Because of my experience.’ So put that in your pipe and smoke it, she thought. Not usually one to blow her own trumpet, she thought that in this instance it was perfectly all right to do so.

  She slept well that night in spite of feeling as if she was still bobbing along on the sea, and the next morning was called to a meeting by the matron.

  ‘I’m very pleased to welcome you, Sister Morris,’ Matron said in English with a delightful French accent. ‘I have received a very good account of you from Dr Anderson and so I will make you senior sister above the others. I am putting you in charge of the receiving wards so that you can ascertain which patients are most urgent. You will be answerable to me and the surgeons.’ She paused. ‘You will have heard of the military expression the triage?’

  Edie said that she had. It was a system of prioritizing. Those injured on the battlefield who had a good chance of survival after treatment were seen to first. Those whose injuries were not life-threatening came next in line and those who would not survive came last.

  ‘We believe that all our patients are important,’ Matron continued. ‘Even those who will not survive deserve our care.’

  ‘I quite agree,’ Edie said quietly. ‘I’d like to think if either of my brothers suffered injury there would be somebody there to hold their hand.’

  Matron nodded. ‘Have you met any nurses that you would like on your wards?’

  ‘I’ve only met one so far and that is Staff Nurse Thomas. She told me she has had three years’ training with TFNS; she’s very cheerful and I’d like to try her out and see how she shapes up.’

  ‘Very well,’ Matron got to her feet. ‘That’s a good start. Thank you, Sister.’

  They were overrun by casualties from the second battle of Ypres which lasted from April until the end of May. The gas attacks had been the most terrifying that anyone had ever encountered and there was worldwide condemnation. Even the German military generals had been taken aback by the ferocity of its effect. The soldiers who had survived with their lives were often blinded, their lungs and throats damaged beyond repair.

  Edie had set up a small ward for the patients who she felt might not reach home and she had put Staff Nurse Thomas in charge of it. ‘They’re far
from their loved ones,’ she said. ‘Reassure them, stay by their side so that they feel cared for,’ and Milly had nodded and said that she would.

  She came back to Edie one day and asked if she would come. ‘I don’t think this soldier is going to survive for much longer,’ she whispered. ‘He was with the Hull Pals. He was caught in a gas attack.’

  Edie came to the ward immediately. The patient was heavily bandaged about his head and throat, with just his mouth showing, and appeared to be asleep. She picked up his notes. He had been blinded by the gas, which had also attacked his larynx. The injury that was causing the greatest concern was a deep chest wound from a grenade. Before she spoke to him, she glanced at the name on his case notes. It was her cousin Max.

  She took a deep breath to steady herself and asked Milly to bring her some water. Then, drawing up a chair, she sat next to the bed.

  ‘Hey, Max,’ she said softly. ‘Fancy meeting you here. It’s your cousin Edie. Remember me?’

  Slowly he turned his head to where her voice was coming from. ‘Edie?’ His voice was harsh and croaky and his breathing difficult. ‘Are – you a nurse then?’

  ‘I certainly am,’ she said as cheerfully as she could, although she wanted to weep to see her once handsome, charismatic cousin brought so low. ‘It seems that I was sent here specially to look after you. All ’other nurses are mad wi’ jealousy.’

  He made a little croaking sound which she interpreted as a laugh. ‘I bet,’ he croaked. ‘Am I – going to make it – out of here, Edie?’

  She took hold of his hand, the one that wasn’t bandaged; the other was missing several fingers and covered by a bloody bandage. ‘I’m hoping so, Max.’ She bent closer so that he would hear. ‘It’ll be a black mark against me if you let me down.’

  ‘If I don’t – make it –’ It was as if he hadn’t heard her. He coughed and gasped in pain. ‘Will you write – to my mam and dad – and our Jenny and say – I’m sorry. I was – hoping they’d be pr-proud o’ me.’

  Tears trickled down Edie’s cheeks and she could barely speak. ‘They’re proud of you already, Max. My mother says your mam never stops talking about you, and how you’re winning ’war all on your own.’

  His mouth twisted into a smile. ‘You were always good – at telling a tale, Edie.’ He took another shallow breath. ‘Will you – stay wi’ me?’

  She gently stroked his hand. ‘Course I will. For as long as it teks. Now, try to sleep and that’s an order, cos I’m senior to you, corporal.’ She gulped down some water to ease her tight throat. ‘And we’ll see what tomorrow brings.’

  He nodded and sighed. ‘Thanks, Edie,’ he whispered. ‘You’re – a pal. You always were.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  At the end of August Lucy had been called in to a meeting at the hospital. ‘What’s it about, Rose?’ she asked Dr Mason, who was also asked to attend.

  She shook her head. ‘No idea, but all the senior doctors have been invited.’

  Lucy didn’t consider she was yet a senior doctor even though she had had nearly four years of training, and wondered why she had been included.

  Dr Anderson was chairing the meeting; her colleague Dr Flora Murray was by her side. Dr Anderson was brief. ‘I don’t want to keep you from your essential work, for which I congratulate you.’ She took a breath before continuing. ‘Your work here is crucial and I wanted to tell you that we now have absolute clearance from the War Office. Now that hostilities are spreading throughout Turkey, Serbia, Russia, Africa and practically every country in the world, they have at last realized just how vital our military hospitals are, and have agreed, in conjunction with the RAMC, that injured personnel can be brought straight here from the battlefields and to other English military hospitals – including those that are being run by women!’

  A great cheer went up. ‘Success,’ one doctor called out. ‘Well done Dr Anderson and Dr Murray!’

  Dr Murray took on the speaking role. ‘We will be recruiting more female doctors and nurses and those who are presently working abroad will be invited back if they wish to come. Some of the French hospitals will then be closed at the end of the year.’

  Dr Murray asked Rose and Lucy if they would remain behind after everyone else began to leave. Neither could guess why; they were invited to take a seat and Dr Murray then explained that although the hospitals they had founded abroad would be closed, there were others that would remain open, including one in Abbeville, the casualty clearing stations in Marseilles, and the field hospitals, or ambulances as they were sometimes called, throughout France and Belgium.

  ‘The field hospitals are often close to the front,’ she told them, ‘and are temporary and moveable so as to assist those in immediate need of care. This is not an order and will be entirely your choice, but good and reliable doctors are required to assist the RAMC and we immediately thought of both of you. However, Dr Thornbury cannot go alone at present. If you wish to do this, Dr Thornbury, a senior doctor will be required to accompany you.’

  Lucy took a breath and looked at her friend. I would go, she thought. But I mustn’t put pressure on Rose. It’s a very big undertaking. But Rose looked back at her and raised a quizzical eyebrow before turning her gaze back to Dr Murray.

  ‘I’m willing, if Dr Thornbury is,’ she said. ‘She’s still young but utterly reliable and I would trust her with any patient, but she should consider very carefully that the work there will be dangerous.’

  ‘I do realize that,’ Lucy broke in. ‘I am not saying yes out of bravado, but simply because I’d like to play a part. Not that we don’t do that already at Endell Street, because obviously we do.’ She paused and considered her next words. ‘But I’d like to think that by being closer to the front line we might stand a better chance of saving more lives.’

  Dr Murray smiled. ‘That’s what we were hoping you would say. But there’s no rush. Think it over for a few days.’

  They all stood up and shook hands. It’s done, Lucy thought. It’s considered. She smiled at Rose. It’s what we want to do.

  Letters were always late, often crossed, and were frequently out of sync, as was the one Edie received from her mother.

  At last! Dolly wrote. We’ve had a letter from our Stanley. He says he’s had a spell in hospital with a touch of flu but he’s now very well and glad to be back with his mates. It’s good isn’t it that the army looks after our lads so well. Our Susan is anxious that she hasn’t heard from their Max for a couple of weeks, but I telled her no news is good news, as I’ve found out for myself. We’re all right at home but we’ve had a few scares over Hull with the Zepps and heard that a trawler was blown up while it was minesweeping. Somebody will be weeping over them, poor lads.

  Write to us when you can, though we know how busy you’ll be. God bless. From your loving mam and da and everybody.

  Edie sighed and rubbed her eyes. She was so tired she felt she could sleep for a week. Aunt Susan couldn’t have yet heard officially about Max and she had held back on her own letter until she was fairly sure that she would have. The family would react badly on losing their golden boy, the apple of his mother’s eye.

  She too had received a letter from Stanley, and another from Josh had arrived on the same day. Stanley told her he’d had a bad dose of scabies and had spent some time in hospital, but didn’t stipulate where. He was about to go back to the front line. If I don’t make it back home, Edie, he wrote, tell everyone not to worry about me as I’ll be safe in heaven. I know for a fact that I won’t go to the other place because I’ve been there several times already and expect to go again afore this war is over.

  Tek great care of yourself. I hope you have a good and long life.

  Your loving brother, Stanley.

  He sounded very depressed, she thought, and wondered if he was suffering from battle shock, a newly diagnosed symptom of the war that she’d heard about recently. Josh’s letter was much more positive but he hadn’t been on the front line yet, although they’d
been under fire. All the brothers were close, Bob being the oldest boy they had all looked up to, whilst Charlie was the baby of the family and able to get away with anything. But Stanley and Josh had had a special bond and Josh had always followed in Stanley’s footsteps.

  Josh’s letters were jokey, as if the war was a game, yet she suspected this was sheer bravado and meant to reassure his family that the two of them were having a great time, so they didn’t worry. Edie hadn’t yet told either of them about their cousin Max, as he too had been a hero to them when they were young.

  Someone knocked on her door and she sat up. Her hour off had passed so quickly. ‘Come in?’ she said.

  It was Matron. Edie got to her feet.

  ‘No, please sit down. I wanted to speak to you.’

  Before complying with what felt very much like an order, Edie cleared her chair of books so that her senior might sit down as well.

  ‘I have received some news,’ Matron said. ‘And I am sorry to impart it.’

  Edie drew in a breath and put her hand to her chest. Not her brothers!

  ‘Not personal; please don’t worry,’ Matron continued. ‘It is about the hospital. I have received word that we will close.’

  ‘Close! But we’ve only just started here.’

  ‘I know, but it seems that the British government have agreed that military hospitals can now operate freely in England, and the doctors and nurses working abroad can return and apply for positions at home. It has been a most complicated arrangement. However, what they haven’t made completely clear is that there are other military hospitals in France that need staff and that those working here can transfer to those.’

  ‘Oh,’ Edie folded her arms. ‘Then that’s what I’ll do; they’ll still be taking casualties from ’war zone.’

  ‘Of course,’ Matron gave a wry smile, ‘it is not only the British army personnel who are injured!’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean …’ Edie began. ‘I—’

  ‘I know what you meant, and of course we treat all nationalities. But I have a suggestion for you. You are a good nurse and also have a strong constitution, not afraid of blood or mangled bones; you keep your head.’