I had never attended an operation before and I found myself both thrilled and horrified to be invited.
‘How is he, Matron?’
‘We’ve packed the wound in salt to prevent infection, but this causes the patient unbearable pain. Better to remove the shattered bone and prepare a good stump ready for a prosthetic. The sooner it heals, the sooner we can fit him with an artificial limb. Come now, help scrub out the school room ready for the surgeon.’
I hugged my abdomen as I stood.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Just a little bruising where the dolphin hit me,’ I said. ‘I’ll be fine when the swelling goes down.’
‘Come inside, let me take a look.’
*
Matron removed my apron and helped me onto two tables pushed together. I undid my button-fronted dress, and she opened my corset and combinations, and examined my abdomen. ‘Have you any pain in your left shoulder?’
‘No, Matron, it’s just where the bruise is.’
‘I’m concerned you might have suffered some internal damage. The surgeon will come and look at you. Stay on the table.’ She spread a modesty sheet over my unbuttoned dress.
The surgeon, Dr Raymond, pressed and pummelled from sternum to pelvis, concentration rigid on his face as he mapped my innards in his mind.
He turned to Matron. ‘Her bruising is consistent with a severe blow. To make sure it’s nothing more serious, she must lay quietly on her back with no movement if she can help it. Keep her corset on for support, but not too tight. That garment probably saved her from a ruptured spleen. I’ll take another look tomorrow.’
‘Right, let’s get you into the other school room with the patients,’ Matron said, before calling over a couple of the Britannic’s crew who were seconded as stretcher-bearers.
In the temporary hospital, my bed was next to Corporal Perkins. Poor Perkins moaned and whimpered, rolling his head from side to side. The patient to my left, with the head injury, was heavily bandaged and hardly conscious. There were four other casualties.
‘Perkins!’ I called over. ‘It’s me, Gertie.’
‘The nurse?’ He continued to display his awful pain.
‘Yes. Listen, they’re going to operate on you soon. You’ll feel better when they’ve sorted you out and cleaned the wound.’
‘I’ve lost my foot, so why’s it such absolute agony? I’m going mad here – mad – I wish I’d died!’
‘You’ll be fine. It’s the salt, that’s all. It’s saving you from gangrene. Try and tell yourself that. Just the salt, Perkins.’
‘Just the salt. Just the salt.’ Then he let out a bone-crunching holler. ‘Put me to sleep! You wouldn’t let a dog suffer like this. Why me?’
‘Think about the future when you’ve got your new foot. They say you can hardly tell these days. Also, you’re out of the war. Isn’t that grand, Perkins? You’ll be down at the Pally dancing the tango with beautiful women before you know it.’ I stared across at him, conscious of his intense discomfort, my eyes aching with unshed tears. My punishment for allowing myself to be bullied, wanting to look important and in control of my patients. If only I hadn’t opened the portholes! At that moment, I’d have done anything to take away the Corporal’s awful pain.
I had mixed feelings about missing his operation. Although this would have been my first real procedure, I didn’t think I could watch the bone-saw being used on him because of my actions.
*
The next day, I felt wretched. ‘What’s happening out there?’ I asked as Nurse Josephine administered the Corporal’s medication.
‘There’s a ship in the bay, minesweeping.’ She stuck a thermometer in Perkins’s mouth. ‘When they’re sure there’s no danger, the vessel will tie up, then they’ll ship us to Athens. Matron said you’re to stay here until the surgeon’s seen you. How do you feel, Gertie?’ She placed a hand on my forehead. ‘You appear a little flushed.’
Josephine would have been in her late thirties. Mature for a nurse as only unmarried women were accepted into the medical corps. She was not exactly homely, in fact her features were quite faultless, but they always seemed drawn into a knot. A person couldn’t relax in her company. Josephine was generous with her atmosphere of tension and one squint from those eyes would halt so much as a wince when a hypodermic went into a vein.
‘Gracious me, I’m so hot after two days in this corset, even my arms and legs ache,’ I said. ‘It’s so uncomfortable to sleep in, nurse.’ I noticed the bed at the end of the row was now empty. ‘What happened there?’
‘Ah, another sad case. The gallant officer died of his injuries. Nothing we could do but ease his pain and hold his hand at the end.’
‘How sad, he seemed such a nice man. Were there many fatalities?’
‘We don’t know, of course. Most of the survivors, casualties, and bodies were picked up by the other two ships. I guess there’ll be an inquiry. Everyone wants to know how such a thing could happen.’ She sighed. ‘The ship was supposed to be unsinkable, wasn’t it? It’s a disgrace, if you ask me.’
Inquiry! My heart stopped for a moment, and I understood the term, sick with fear.
Nurse took the thermometer from Perkins and stared at it. ‘He’s got a temperature. Let’s check yours.’
Twenty-minutes later, Matron Merriberry, the surgeon, and Nurse Josephine, all wearing masks, filed into the school room. The other invalids were examined first, and then removed from the room.
‘Put a QUARANTINE notice on the door,’ the surgeon said. ‘The last thing we need is an epidemic on the island. The influenza’s already costing us more soldiers than the war itself. See if anyone’s had influenza in the past twelve months – if so, there’s a chance they have some immunity. They can stay behind to take care of these two.’
I thought about dear Sissy and knew I had to do all I could to get better. If I died of the influenza after all this . . . oh, my poor parents! They would be completely heartbroken. I had to get better!
The surgeon continued. ‘Reduce the Corporal’s morphine in doses, the amputation site’s healing nicely. I want everyone checked before they board HMS Foxhound. Anyone with a dry cough, temperature, severe headache or muscle aches must be moved into here. It’s our duty to protect the people of this island, and to contain the outbreak. The VAD seems to be suffering from bruising only, but her temperature’s up and she’s already showing influenza symptoms.’
‘Please can I take the corset off, Matron?’ I asked.
Merriberry gave an enquiring look to the surgeon. ‘I don’t see why not,’ he said.
When they’d left the room, I asked nurse, ‘What did he mean about the Foxhound?’
‘That’s the name of the ship commissioned to take us all away, back to Piraeus, the port of Athens, I think, though nobody’s very sure. Anyway, they’re all hoping to leave this afternoon.’
‘What? You mean they might not let me go on board! I’ll be stuck here?’ My heart plummeted.
‘He’s afraid you and Perkins might spread the influenza. He’s quarantined you with the Corporal and left me in charge.’
‘But that’s not fair!’
She nodded, her mouth a tight line. ‘You’re right, but there’s nothing I can do.’
Then I thought perhaps it was justice. After what I’d caused, I’d probably get pneumonia and die like half of those who caught the dreaded illness, and that would be the end of it. Poor Perkins. Sooner or later he’d realise what had caused the Britannic to sink, and he’d hate me enough to tell the authorities. My parents would be ashamed.
Perhaps Perkins would develop pneumonia and die, then nobody would know the truth. I stared across at the next bed. How could I think such a thing! The poor man had lost his foot and been in absolute agony. It wasn’t something that could be undone. Then again, if he hadn’t bullied me . . . but that was no excuse for me breaking orders!
Such terrible thoughts . . . what was I turning into? Had these mons
ters and demons always been inside me, waiting like dragon’s teeth to spring into life?
Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and trickled into my hair. Everything was so awful, so unforgivable. If only Sissy had lived, none of this would have happened. Why was I saved – for my parents’ sake? A miracle, the priest said, but I knew the truth. It was so I could live out my punishment.
‘Nurse Gertie, why are you crying? What’s wrong?’ Perkins asked. Even though his words were drowsy from medication, there was concern in his voice.
I glanced across at him, lying on his back, eyes closed. He was usually a confident man, a decision maker, a man who cared. Good-looking with a square jaw and straight nose. As I studied him, a warm feeling gathered inside me. I was so glad he didn’t suffer the terrible fate of his fellow passengers in Lifeboat 1. I sniffed. ‘Nothing, really, I’m just being silly. How do you feel, Corporal?’
‘Good, a little lightheaded, muzzy, but no pain.’ He reached across the gap. ‘Will you hold my hand for a moment, nurse?’
I reached over and took it. Was this fate showing me how I should live out my penance, doing whatever Corporal Perkins wanted for the rest of my life? Would that be such a bad reparation? I imagined children, chickens, the smell of freshly baked bread, wildflowers on the table, me serving Corporal Perkins his dinner.
‘You feel hot,’ I said.
His eyes didn’t open, but he smiled widely. ‘It’s you, nurse, sending my temperature up.’
‘Soldier! I hope you’re not going to give me any trouble.’ I tried to sound stern, but honestly, I wished he could put his arms around me for a few minutes. Quite an outrageous thing, yet I needed to absorb some strength of spirit, because mine was well and truly depleted.
*
A groan woke me in the night. I turned my head in its direction and looked into Perkins’s pale face. His eyelids fluttered, then he was returning my stare.
‘How do you feel after the operation?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know . . . my ankle hurts, but not as bad as it did,’ he slurred as if drunk.
I pushed myself upright and sat on the edge of the bed, but then gasped and had to slap my hand over my mouth to avoid crying out. Perkins’s sheet had slipped to the floor. His leg was off at the knee. I hadn’t realised the extent of his amputation, and I felt sure he hadn’t either. Oh, the poor man!
‘What’s wrong?’ he muttered urgently, screwing his eyes as the pain kicked in.
‘Nurse, please! Corporal Perkins is conscious,’ I called towards the desk.
The nurse came over. I lay down and watched my neighbour receive a morphine injection. In minutes, Perkins’s face relaxed and he gave me a slow wink. ‘Promise you won’t leave me, nurse, promise.’
I melted under his gaze and wanted nothing more than to comfort him. The man was a cripple for the rest of his life – because of me.
*
I dozed in the makeshift hospital, losing myself to the heat and the boredom, when a knock woke me. ‘Food!’ somebody called.
Nurse Josephine waited a moment before opening the door to find three trays on the floor. She brought them into the school room, slipped a mask on and then brought one over to my bed.
‘I’m really not hungry, nurse. It seems I’ve lost my appetite,’ I told her. ‘It’s the disappointment of not being allowed on the ship.’
‘No, it’s because you’re coming down with the influenza. It’s important you keep your strength up, Gertie, so do try to eat something. Come and sit with me for a while.’ She placed the tray on the teacher’s desk, alongside hers. ‘Egg lemon soup and fresh bread. A most delicious meal.’ She glanced at Perkins. ‘I’ll let him sleep while we eat.’ Her spoon was halfway to her mouth when she became aware of her mask. She hesitated.
‘Look, it’s foolish to put yourself at risk. I’ll go and eat at my bedside,’ I told her, and stood up.
The soup had no taste, and I had no appetite. Just getting out of bed had made me feel weak and shivery. I was coming down with the dreaded influenza. Reminding myself this illness had killed my sister, I ate most of my meal, then returned to my cot. When Nurse Josephine came to collect the tray, I asked for an extra blanket.
She accommodated me, then turned her attention to Perkins who, by this time, was awake.
‘I’m just going to prop you up with some extra pillows, Corporal,’ she said. ‘You’ve been on your back long enough, and we don’t want bed sores, do we? Then I’ll feed you.’
‘I can feed myself, nurse. I’ve lost my foot, it’s not that big a deal.’
Josephine took pillows from the empty beds and brought them over. ‘Right, put your arms around my neck and I’ll pull you up.’ She heaved and he came halfway up into a sitting position, then Perkins let out the most bone-chilling screech.
‘Where’s my leg?!’
CHAPTER 21
SHELLY
Greek island of Kea, present day.
HARRY TAPPED HIS WATCH AGAIN and signalled they only had another two minutes on the wreck. Now running out of air, they had to start their long ascent. Around the other side of the fishnet, they saw the problem. A turtle weighing more than two hundred pounds struggled in the net, caught by its back flipper. Harry moved forward to deal with it, but Shelly nudged him aside and withdrew her dive knife.
The net had cut deep into the flesh. Shelly didn’t know how long the poor turtle had been trapped. She knew it needed to surface and breathe at least every four hours. Maybe it was heading towards land to lay its eggs. She pulled off her dive gloves, knowing the operation needed a delicate touch and, even with her veterinary skills, the operation would take some time.
Harry shook Shelly’s shoulder, tapped his watch, and made the sign to ascend. Shelly shook her head. She could not leave the turtle to die. She pointed to Harry’s dive knife, then tugged at the net above the turtle. He got the message and started cutting through the strands of nylon.
Shelly slashed at the net below the turtle, terrified that one of them would become entangled and the nightmare of her past repeat itself. The turtle stopped struggling, whether dying from lack of oxygen or sensing they were helping it, she couldn’t know. Seconds ticked by, their tanks becoming more depleted. Shelly willed herself to stay calm, to slow her heartbeat, to save oxygen. They had to have enough air to rise slowly. Finally, the last strands of polymer broke away and keeping hold of the turtle, they hauled it between them as they started their slow ascent.
Keeping one eye on the time she clipped herself to a loop in the shot line and hung there for her decompression. Harry came alongside, and they both worked on cutting away more of the punishing net from the turtle’s flipper. All the time, she hoped the turtle had enough air to hold on a while longer. Harry clung on to the front of the shell. Everything depended on the turtle not making a race for the surface to breathe. If it did, they would have to let it go or suffer the fatal bends.
Her blood boiled. How could fishermen be so careless? Why couldn’t manufacturers go back to using cotton, hemp, or wool nets? At least those materials would eventually rot away. The net they were cutting off the turtle may have been hanging off that shipwreck for over half a century, and killed countless marine mammals in the most horrible way.
The dive apparatus impeded an urge to scream angrily, as loud and hard as she could. She diverted her thoughts and concentrated on drawing the last nylon filaments from the creature’s wounded flipper. After swapping places with Harry, she started freeing its head. Cautiously, she looked into the turtle’s eye. One snap from that powerful beak could cut through her airpipe, which would certainly kill her.
As the last clump of net came away, Shelly gave the turtle one last look deep into its eye, made the OK sign to Harry, and gave the enormous carapace a gentle shove towards the surface. Great joy blossomed in her chest. Harry reached for her hand and together they watched the turtle’s silhouette rise through the lighter water above, pale turquoise light bouncing off the dark amber
shell. Shelly was overcome by euphoria, made more intense because she couldn’t smile with an air-hose gripped between her teeth. Her elation was not just because the pressure against her dive suit had lessened, or because the turtle now swam free, but because she had realised the truth of the situation and come to terms with her nightmare.
The details of what happened that awful day were there all along, but they always hid behind Shelly’s self-blame. Uppermost in Shelly’s memory of her holiday with David and Simon, was that she had caused a string of events that led to a tragedy. The suppressed reason why she absolutely had to dive now was to prove to herself that if she had been able to dive then, she would have saved him.
However, in truth, if she had managed to dive, she may well have also become entangled in that same net and it could have been a double tragedy. Even if she hadn’t gone on that holiday with David, he would still, most probably, have investigated what was in the bottom of that old sunken boat, and the tragic outcome would have been the same.
All this time, subconsciously, Shelly had been searching for a way to prove that if she could, she would have rescued David, she would have cut the fishing net away from him, as she had with the turtle, and he would have escaped his awful fate. But she simply didn’t have the skill to dive. What happened to David was not her fault! It had nothing to do with her precious bangle, or her obsession with her mother’s death. It was an accident that may well have happened whether she had gone on holiday with him, or not.
Her sense of relief was so intense, she almost floated to the surface without the essential decompression stop.
She squeezed Harry’s hand. He couldn’t know what this dive meant, that something so significant had happened.
They pulled themselves up the boat ladder, feeling the force of gravity dragging at every muscle and limb, and the weight of their equipment making their emergence from the sea almost impossible. Harry’s sons stood either side of the dive ladder and hauled them up until they eventually plopped onto the bench, feeling almost unbearably heavy now that they were out of the water. The boys relieved them of diving gear and then they wriggled out of their dry suits, too exhausted to speak.
Summer in Greece Page 17