‘His weight went down a lot from the trauma of his injury,’ Amy put in, ‘but five months have gone by and he’s making progress.’
‘I was very fortunate to be operated on by Mr Westholme, an extremely well respected surgeon,’ he told Katherine. He was the father of Amy’s friend, Lavinia, and had been in Ypres at the time. ‘And he actually brought Amy from the hospital where she was working to see me. It made a huge difference.’ Seeing her and hearing that she was expecting their child had given him so much to live for.
‘Have you seen a doctor lately?’
‘I’ve seen Doctor Stanhope, the local man, and he’s pleased how well my lung is healing. In about a month I’ve got to go back to the specialist in London for a check-up and I’m sure he’ll be pleased with my progress.’
* * *
Ma need not have worried about the food, Amy thought, at lunchtime when Katherine expressed her appreciation of the veal and ham pie. They chatted about St Luke’s, where they had both worked as new recruits to the nursing arm of the Voluntary Aid Detachment, and where Katherine still worked.
‘It was a struggle to learn the ropes when we were training,’ Amy told the others. She remembered Katherine’s shock at the conditions in the hostel, after leaving her comfortable home, and alarm at the injuries they had to tend.
Katherine was a little less plump than when she had started nursing. ‘Wasn’t I helpless at first?’ she remembered with an embarrassed smile. ‘I’d never even made my own bed, let alone anyone else’s.’ At one time Amy had been afraid she would leave during her probationary period, but her friend had found the resolve to persevere. Edmond listened, fascinated.
After lunch they returned to the easy chairs in the drawing room. Beatrice had shown little interest in Katherine’s account of her work at the hospital. Now she told their visitor how she longed to marry Charles when he came on leave, showing her a photo of her fiancé, tall and smart in his officer’s uniform. ‘Isn’t he handsome?’ she said, and Katherine smiled as she agreed.
‘Katherine is engaged too,’ Amy said. ‘Is your young man still in the Ypres area?’ she asked her friend.
‘No – Laurence is on his way to the Italian Front,’ she replied. ‘He came on leave before he left for Italy, and that’s when he proposed!’
Amy smiled. ‘The weather should be better there.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Edmond told them. ‘I gather the Front Line runs through the mountains towards the Austrian border.’
‘I’m relieved to hear there’s not much going on there at the moment,’ Katherine said.
‘It sounds like an improvement on Ypres,’ said Edmond.
‘I’m still on the list of nurses prepared to serve abroad,’ Katherine said. ‘I don’t know how soon they’ll send me. Some women have to leave for France at very short notice. Of course I’d love to be sent to Italy, but we can’t choose.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘I’m competent enough to be useful now. It’ll be strange to be so far from my family, though. I won’t get many opportunities to go home on leave. While I’m in London I love heading home for some decent food and a rest.’
Amy was fully involved now with helping Edmond with his recovery, and looking after Beth, but for a moment she remembered her time at the hospitals in London and in France, nursing soldiers. There had been many shocking sights but she was thankful she had done her duty there while she had the opportunity. Her delight in seeing the luckier ones make a good recovery had only been spoilt by her awareness that they would be sent back to the trenches.
Soon Amy took Katherine to the nursery. She pulled back the little blue and pink patchwork quilt and lifted Beth out of her cot. ‘Hello, sweetie,’ she said, kissing her daughter before passing her to Katherine.
‘Oh, what a darling child!’ cried her friend. ‘I know how you and Edmond have struggled, after he was so badly wounded, but I can’t help envying you now you’re together, and with a baby too. One day I’d like to settle down with Laurence and have children. If only the war ends soon and we can do that – it would be sheer bliss!’
‘Oh, yes – I do hope you get the chance before long!’
‘It’s what we plan, in our letters.’ She passed Beth back to Amy. She looked around at the cosy nursery. ‘Are you content, living with your in-laws?’ she asked.
‘Pa has always been kind to me, but Ma thinks Edmond could have found a wife with a higher social background.’ She was, after all, only the daughter of a schoolmaster.
‘I can tell you’ve supported Edmond through his recovery,’ Katherine said. ‘They must be grateful for that.’
‘Yes, they are. But I don’t know if Beatrice will ever really accept me.’
‘Why’s that?’
Amy sat in the rocking chair and began to feed Beth. ‘I never told you about my activity with the Suffragettes, did I?’
‘No…’ Katherine’s deep blue eyes stared at her in fascination.
‘I daresay you won’t approve.’
‘I’m in favour of votes for women,’ Katherine said earnestly. ‘Now we’re working so hard in the war and taking on some jobs men used to do, they shouldn’t deny us the same rights.’
‘I thought you’d agree about that,’ Amy said. ‘The thing is, in the summer before the war I joined some others in taking direct action. One of my friends broke into the cricket pavilion and we wrote slogans on the walls.’
‘Oh, my goodness, did you?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Were you found out?’
‘Only about a year later. I was arrested on what should have been my wedding day and sent to jail for a week.’ It was the overbearing Colonel Fairlawn who had used his high rank to influence the magistrates to send her straight to prison, even though Edmond was leaving for France within days.
‘Oh, Amy, how awful! I never would have guessed that you’d been in trouble with the police.’ Amy was thankful to see her amused smile. ‘But you must have lived it down now.’
‘When I first reported to start as a VAD the matron nearly didn’t accept me, because my misdemeanour had been in the local paper, but it’s largely blown over, now I’ve done war work. A few people can’t resist reminding me of my guilty past from time to time. Beatrice was to be my bridesmaid and she was horrified when she saw me arrested. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.’
‘How mean of her!’
‘After that we weren’t able to get married till Edmond came on leave, and I think Beatrice tried to persuade him not to go through with it. She refused to be my bridesmaid.’
‘How dreadful.’
‘Luckily Edmond’s cousin, Vicky, took her place.’
‘Does Beatrice still dislike you?’
‘She stays civil in front of Edmond but she’s very cold towards me.’
Amy had hoped they could take a gentle walk into Larchbury, with Beth in her perambulator, but it was still very cold, so they took Katherine for a short stroll round the gardens. A chill wind was ruffling the shrubs.
‘Your leg isn’t quite right yet,’ Katherine remarked as Amy limped along.
‘No, but it’s better.’ It would have been more accurate to say that she was becoming accustomed to walking with a stiff, distorted ankle. In some ways it was convenient, for it encouraged Edmond to walk slowly when he was with her, so he was less tempted to overexert himself.
‘You have lovely grounds here,’ Katherine said, looking from the garden to the forest on the hill behind the house.
‘It’s less well cared for now the original gardener is away fighting,’ Edmond said.
‘But it’s beautiful, especially in summer,’ Amy said.
As they went to visit Edmond’s horse, Wanderer, in his stable, they discussed the possibility of Amy having another operation to get her ankle reset.
‘I might consider it, if the war is over some day.’ If her operation had been hastily done it was because most of the patients in the Ypres hospital were men who had been injured in the fighting, so were a much higher priori
ty.
She had not told Edmond that her accident had occurred while she had been trying to escape the unwelcome attentions of Captain Wilfrid Fairlawn, the colonel’s son. At the time Edmond had been in the hospital, fighting for his life after being wounded. She had attempted to complain about Fairlawn’s behaviour, though. Peter, Edmond’s brother, was one of the officers at High Command who had pursued her allegation, but they had so far failed to bring him to justice.
Soon they went back indoors to take tea and shortbread with the others. Janet drew the blue velvet curtains in the drawing room as dusk began to fall.
Pa began asking Katherine more about her work at the hospital. Amy guessed she was being careful to avoid any alarming details. She told them of the special services and entertainments arranged for the soldiers over Christmas, and how they had blown up old rubber gloves to look like balloons.
Soon after it was time for Katherine to leave.
‘I wish you could have stayed longer,’ Amy said.
‘I’ll spend a last evening with my uncle and aunt,’ she told Amy and Edmond. ‘Then I’ll go back to London tomorrow and begin work again the day after. We’ve still got a lot of casualties there.’
They were all quiet for a moment. Amy guessed that the others, like her, were wondering how much longer the Front in Flanders would remain quiet.
‘Next month we have to go to London for Edmond’s check-up,’ Amy reminded her. ‘It’s not at St Luke’s, but it’s only a couple of miles away.’
‘Do meet me if you can,’ Katherine said. ‘Tell me what day it is and I’ll try to arrange some time off.’
‘We might call on my aunt Louisa and stay overnight,’ Amy said. ‘She lives nearby.’ It would be splendid to see her friend while they were there.
The young women embraced before Katherine set off in the car her uncle had sent for her.
‘I enjoyed meeting her,’ Edmond said.
‘I’m glad you didn’t talk much about the Front while she was here,’ Amy said as they went back indoors. ‘I worry so much about her young man.’
‘He’s in Italy now. Let’s hope the fighting there won’t be as intense as we saw round Ypres.’
* * *
Amy saw Florence less often when she was back teaching in the school. ‘James asked me to thank you for your note,’ Amy told her after church one Sunday. She had sent it enclosed in her own letter. ‘He seemed pleased you understand him better.’ She wondered if he was still managing to keep his secret diary of what he observed of life near the Front Line.
‘I realise now that his work is gruelling and worthwhile,’ Florence said. ‘I believe he’s motivated by his principles, not cowardice. I’m glad I wrote.’
Florence had invited them back after church to her family home nearby, and her father had promised to drive them back to The Beeches in time for their luncheon. They were sitting in the Clifford family’s comfortable parlour, with its well-polished furniture, large bookcases and good quality piano.
Amy removed Beth’s thick shawl and cuddled her as they talked.
‘About Bertie,’ Edmond asked Florence gently, ‘did he ever tell you that if he didn’t return you should find someone else to love?’
‘No – he never suggested that could happen. He knew I couldn’t bear to face the idea of losing him.’
‘I think Bertie was too optimistic to consider the possibility,’ Amy said.
‘I discussed it with Amy,’ Edmond said. ‘Only after the Somme, though. Losing men from my unit, and losing Bertie, brought home the dangers, so I had to face the question.’ He turned to Florence. ‘I know he’d have wanted you to be happy,’ he said earnestly. ‘To honour his memory, of course, but make a new life for yourself.’
Her expression was bleak. ‘I can’t imagine loving anyone else,’ she said.
‘I understand,’ Amy said, putting her arm round her. They should not expect her to transfer her affections lightly.
Florence’s parents came to join them. ‘You’ll take a glass of sherry with us, won’t you?’ her father asked. He was a well-built man with thick glasses who was the local solicitor.
They accepted, and asked after Florence’s sister, several years older than her, and her shopkeeper husband, who was slightly too old to have been called up.
‘Is the Westholme girl still nursing in France?’ Mrs Clifford asked Amy.
‘Yes – Lavinia’s out there. I’ve just had a letter from her,’ Amy said. ‘I haven’t seen her since I left France – I do hope she comes on leave soon.’
‘I suppose she’s at the hospital near Arras, where you used to nurse?’ Florence asked.
‘She’s been transferred to the large hospital at Ypres, where Edmond was treated. The weather there isn’t as bitter as last year, she says.’ Lavinia had been delighted at her news of Beth’s birth and had sent her a coat and bonnet she had knitted.
Amy, Florence and Lavinia had all belonged to the Suffragette movement back in 1914. How long ago that seemed now, so much having happened since. Lavinia, who was a little older than they were, had been very active in the movement. Florence and Amy had admired her and stayed friends ever since. The militant activities had mainly been suspended for the duration of the war, while Suffragists concentrated on doing war work and helping refugees.
‘Have you heard?’ Florence asked. ‘There’s a bill going through Parliament called the Representation of the People Act, aiming to give women the vote!’
Mrs Clifford’s eyebrows rose at the idea. Amy knew Florence’s parents had not approved of her Suffragette activities. They knew their daughter had been there when Amy got into the cricket pavilion and chalked slogans, and were thankful that Florence had not taken any active part. They suspected that Lavinia might have been there, but only Amy had been caught.
‘Yes – wouldn’t that be wonderful!’ Amy said. ‘Do you think they’ll approve it?’
As they drank their sherry they discussed the topic for a while longer, with Florence’s parents reluctant to accept that such an event could happen. Then Mr Clifford drove them back to The Beeches.
Chapter Three
London, February
Edmond’s check-up was scheduled for a Saturday in the middle of February. He would be seen at the hospital in mid-afternoon, so they arranged to spend the night at Aunt Louisa’s little house in west London. From there they could easily visit St Luke’s hospital, where Amy had once worked, to see Katherine. Then they could take a cab to the hospital where Edmond had been nursed when he had first arrived back from Ypres.
They offered to go by train but Pa insisted on driving them to Aunt Louisa’s. Amy had carefully packed everything Beth might need, thankful that she was a robust baby, likely to adapt well to the journey. Happily the weather was milder now.
Katherine telephoned them the night before. ‘I’ve been sent to help at another hospital nearby for a week or two,’ she told them, ‘but we can still meet up.’ They arranged to leave their luggage at Aunt Louisa’s and then meet Katherine in a little café she knew for lunch.
They set out with Pa early in the morning and he dropped them off at Aunt Louisa’s house. She greeted them delightedly and made the acquaintance of Beth.
‘How are you, Auntie?’ Amy asked.
‘Fine. I’m having to work harder to keep the house in order because I can only get a maid for a few hours each week. They all seem to want to work in factories these days.’ Her hair was fading from golden to grey, like Mother’s. ‘I’ve joined one of those Working Parties now to knit comforts for the troops.’
Aunt Louisa went on to ask Edmond about his recovery. She had always liked him. Back in the summer of 1914, which seemed so distant now, Amy and her mother had been visiting Auntie at the seaside when she and Edmond had met, having previously known each other only as children. On that momentous day shortly before the outbreak of war they had first begun to fall in love.
‘I hope you don’t mind that we’re meeting a friend for lunc
h,’ Amy said. It would save her aunt the trouble and expense of providing all their meals. She seemed content as they would have the evening together.
Aunt Louisa suggested she looked after the baby while they went out to lunch. Soon they were sitting in the little café, between tables occupied by families, couples and uniformed servicemen. Katherine joined them and they ordered some meat pie from the limited range of dishes available.
‘Where’ve you been sent to work?’ Amy asked her friend.
‘The hospital in Chelsea, where they have the pensioners. Several of their nurses are off sick at present.’
Amy remembered the problems there were with keeping civilian hospitals well-staffed as well as the ones for war casualties.
Katherine undid her tweed coat but kept on her attractive hat with a feather.
‘You’re not in uniform!’ Amy said. ‘Have you wangled the whole day off?’
‘I’m on nights,’ Katherine said, yawning.
‘Heard any more about serving abroad?’ Edmond asked her.
‘No. I imagine they’ll send me if the fighting begins in earnest again. I’ve heard from Laurence recently, though. He’s settling in well in northern Italy. The Front is quiet at the moment and he’s with the reserve troops, not up in the mountains.’ She showed them a picture of a smiling young officer with a dark moustache. As always, Amy was anxious for her friend’s young man abroad.
When their meal arrived it was tasty though less plentiful than sometimes, now there were shortages. Amy enjoyed it, while half distracted wondering what the doctor would say that afternoon. She had the impression Edmond was making a good recovery, but she worried that he would never recover fully from the damage to his lung.
Until the War is Over Page 3