‘I’ll need to go back to my aunt’s and feed Beth again before we go on to the hospital,’ Amy said. They just had time to finish their portions of sponge pudding.
‘Why don’t we meet here again tomorrow, and bring Aunt Louisa?’ Edmond proposed. ‘Will that suit you, Katherine? We’ll bring Beth too.’
They checked the café would be open the following day, which was Sunday, and Katherine set off back to her hostel.
Edmond hailed a passing cab.
‘We could walk back to Auntie’s,’ she objected.
‘I know – we’d just about have time – but I don’t want to arrive at the hospital looking tired out,’ he said.
Aunt Louisa was happy with the arrangement to take lunch out the following day.
* * *
After Amy had fed Beth they took another cab to the hospital and followed the signs to the clinic where Edmond was to be examined. He looked unconcerned, but he must surely be at least as anxious as she was that all was well, or at least as good as it could be.
Soon the consultant was examining him. His thin chest was still misshapen where debris from the shell had hit him, but the bruising had disappeared now and the scars were fading.
The doctor sounded his chest. ‘You’ve made good progress,’ he said, looking at him seriously through his glasses. ‘My colleague, Mr Westholme, has put your chest in order very competently. I’ll get them to take an X-ray to confirm that nothing more needs doing, and send it to your local doctor, when I have it.’
‘Thank you!’ Edmond looked at his most perky.
‘However,’ the consultant went on with a stern expression, ‘the capacity of your right lung is significantly reduced. You’ll always have a degree of disability, and will be prevented from undertaking any strenuous activity.’
‘My wife takes good care of me,’ Edmond said. ‘She used to be a VAD nurse. She’s making sure I get fresh air and exercise.’
The doctor smiled at Amy. ‘He certainly looks as though he’s been well looked after,’ he said.
‘Will I be fit enough to go back to Cambridge in the autumn?’ Edmond asked urgently.
‘As an undergraduate?’ He looked dubious.
‘I’ll go with him and make sure he gets good meals and enough rest,’ Amy said.
‘He’ll certainly need some support. Well now, Lieutenant Derwent, I can’t make any promises. When would you need to apply for your place?’
‘In the spring.’
‘We’ll make you another appointment around Easter time and see if you’re fit enough.’
Amy’s spirits were lifted, but only up to a point. As she sat waiting with him outside the X-ray room she had a disturbing vision of Edmond setting off determinedly for university whether or not he was sufficiently recovered.
* * *
Aunt Louisa had managed to acquire a chicken for dinner. ‘I had to beg the butcher for one,’ she said. ‘I told him that it’s for a wounded war hero.’
She had prepared it with some cabbage and turnips, and they enjoyed a merry meal. Afterwards they sat in Auntie’s tiny parlour and played some card games. Amy fed Beth before going to bed just before ten, as she and Edmond usually did. Her aunt had borrowed a cradle from a neighbour and Beth was soon sleeping there contentedly in their room.
Edmond followed Amy wearily into bed and for a few moments they lay there drowsily in each other’s arms. Then suddenly there were loud noises: the sound of aircraft, followed by gunfire.
‘A raid!’ Edmond cried and they rushed to the window and peered out at searchlights and aircraft in the distance. ‘I think they’re approaching from the south.’
Beth woke up and began to cry.
There was a knocking at their bedroom door. ‘Come down to the basement at once!’ Aunt Louisa cried shrilly.
Amy slipped her arms into her wrap and scooped up Beth in her blanket. Edmond followed them as Aunt Louisa, in curlers and a dressing gown and holding a candle, led them down to the ground floor. Edmond held Beth while Amy negotiated the rickety steps down to the cramped cellar. As her aunt lit more candles Amy could make out sacks of coal, a rack of bottles and a crate of root vegetables. They could still hear the sound of aircraft.
‘I’ve never heard them this close before,’ Aunt Louisa said. She found Amy an old chair and settled in the other one herself. Edmond held the dark curtain to one side and tried to peer upwards through the tiny window.
‘Come away from there!’ Auntie said.
‘Yes – don’t take any risks!’ Amy echoed. She remembered occasionally seeing one of the sinister great Zeppelin airships passing in the distance when she had been working in London.
Edmond sat down on one of the coal sacks. ‘I read that the Huns sometimes try to hit one of the main stations now,’ he said.
‘But our planes are attacking the Zeppelin,’ Amy said. Beth was settling again in her arms.
‘The Germans don’t use Zeppelins any more,’ Edmond told her. ‘Lately they’ve been flying Gotha bombers.’ She remembered now: it had been in the newspapers.
‘Our airmen got some better ammunition,’ he went on. ‘They started hitting the Zeppelins so they burst into flame.’ In the dim light there was a grin on his face.
Amy stared at him. ‘You’re not usually so bloodthirsty.’
‘Dropping bombs is worse than fighting in the trenches,’ he said. ‘Even if they’re aiming for the docks they often hit civilians. Women and children get killed.’
The noise was growing louder still. For a moment Amy wished she could actually watch the battle between the planes.
‘Heavens!’ cried Auntie. ‘It sounds as though they’re almost overhead.’
Beth began whimpering.
Suddenly an enormous explosion rang in their ears and made the house shake. A metal bucket and a cake tin fell off a shelf, their clatter barely noticeable in the racket. Beth was crying now but at first the others were all too shocked to speak.
‘That sounded very near here,’ Aunt Louisa said, trembling.
Amy coughed; the air seemed full of dust. The sound of the explosion was still ringing in her ears, but she could also make out the noise of the planes and gunfire.
She cuddled Beth and kissed her, trying to calm her.
‘Poor darling,’ Edmond said. ‘Not seven weeks old and she’s caught in a raid.’
Soon Beth was settling again.
‘There’ll be casualties,’ Amy said. ‘They’ll take some of them to St Luke’s, and perhaps to the hospital where Katherine’s working now. She’ll be on duty. I really should go along to help.’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ her aunt protested. ‘The raid is still on. Remember you’re a mother now and that’s where your duty lies.’
Amy held Beth close. Auntie was right, but all the same… She could picture the wreckage in the streets, like in Arras or Ypres.
Gradually the sound of the aeroplanes diminished. When they felt certain the raid was over they went back upstairs to bed. Amy blew out the candle and held the curtain to one side. In the distance a building was on fire. A fire engine drove past, its bell ringing loudly.
She went to bed but found it hard to sleep.
* * *
A little before first light she fed Beth. ‘I’m going along to see where the bomb fell and offer my help,’ she told Edmond.
‘Then I’m coming with you,’ he said, getting out of bed.
‘You don’t need to come – I’m the one who’s trained!’
‘I’ve given first aid to wounded men.’ He started to get dressed.
Her aunt, still in her dressing gown, passed her on the landing and tried to persuade them not to go.
‘We have to, Auntie. If there are lots of casualties they’ll need extra help.’
She gave in and agreed to look after Beth.
They put on their coats and went out into the chill grey morning. There was a smell of cordite, and dust and smoke were visible, perhaps from half a mile away.
They set off in that direction, Amy limping and Edmond plodding beside her.
A young man approached on his bicycle. ‘They’ve hit the hospital!’ he cried.
‘Which hospital?’
‘The one with the pensioners.’
Amy tried to walk faster. ‘That’s where Katherine’s working. She’ll be in the thick of treating the wounded.’
As they approached the smoke they could see wreckage in the street. It looked as though one side of the hospital had been demolished. There were ambulances and a fire engine nearby, and she could see doctors and nurses stooping to tend casualties who were lying on stretchers in front of the hospital.
Amy remembered that she had wanted to watch the raid as a spectacle. ‘It looks quite dreadful,’ she said guiltily. ‘It’s hours since the bomb fell and they’re still picking people out of the wreckage.’ She had seen men with terrible injuries in Flanders but she had not witnessed the aftermath of a raid within hours of its taking place. The fact that the stricken area was in London, close to where her aunt lived, made it even more shocking.
As they drew nearer they could see piles of rubble, broken doors and fixtures, and shattered glass. Men in the uniform of orderlies were carrying patients on stretchers towards an ambulance. Some victims were sitting by the roadside, mostly on chairs or a bench, huddled under blankets, some of them still trembling with shock. They would be ones with minor injuries, waiting for treatment, Amy reasoned. She looked around but could not see Katherine; probably she was nursing other patients inside the remains of the building.
She approached a young woman wearing the cape and hat of a VAD nurse. ‘I’m trained as a VAD,’ she told her. ‘I’ve come to help.’
‘Come and see sister.’
‘I’ve seen service in Flanders,’ Edmond said. ‘I can do first aid.’
The sister looked weary and was pleased to see them. ‘Go and help the group with minor injuries,’ she told them, furnishing them with a basket of dressings.
The group with lesser injuries included pensioners and hospital staff. Amy was relieved Katherine was not among them. She began to pass from casualty to casualty, assessing their state. Towards the middle of the group was an elderly man whose pallor alarmed her. He was holding a piece of bandage to a wound on his arm and she could see that it had become saturated with blood.
‘Sister!’ she cried. ‘This man needs urgent attention.’
Sister asked a senior nurse to examine him. She called for a stretcher and sent the injured man off to an ambulance. ‘We’re sending severe cases to St Luke’s,’ she said.
Amy rejoined Edmond who was still passing along the row of patients, checking that no-one else needed emergency attention. It was easy to understand that the first response to the disaster could be chaotic, and how severe cases might be missed, especially at night. They chatted to the casualties, who seemed encouraged by their arrival.
‘Are you a nurse?’ an old man asked her.
‘Of course she is! Can’t you tell by the way she checks us over?’ replied another man before Amy had the chance to reassure them that she was qualified to help.
Then they got to work. Edmond went ahead, cleaning wounds with antiseptic, then Amy dressed them carefully. Sometimes they asked one of the regular nurses if the patient might have medication to relieve the pain.
A young nurse had splinters of glass in her leg.
‘I’ve got a friend who’s working here,’ Amy said. ‘She’s called Katherine and she’s been sent here from St Luke’s. Do you know if she’s working on one of the wards inside?’ By now she should have gone off duty, but in the emergency she would have been required to stay.
‘Katherine? I don’t know her. I can’t tell you, I’m afraid. They’ve been deciding if the hospital is still structurally sound, and it seems some of the wards can still be used. It was the north-east wing that was hit.’
‘I hope they shot down the buggers!’ cried the man sitting next to her. ‘Sorry, ladies, excuse me for using that word, but those Huns don’t deserve to live.’
They went on from patient to patient until they had examined nearly all the casualties. Edmond was working hard but Amy was growing anxious that he would overtire himself. ‘It’s time to take a rest,’ she said, leading him to a space on a bench. Reluctantly he sat down next to an old soldier. Amy saw the man offering Edmond a cigarette and reminded him that he was not to smoke. Soon Edmond was telling the man how he had become injured at Ypres.
There was the sound of concerned voices behind Amy. Another two severely injured victims had been pulled out of the rubble, one of them a child. As soon as she had finished her allotted task she went and helped tend to them so that they were ready to be taken off by ambulance.
At last an orderly brought out some mugs of tea. ‘Take a break, Nurse!’ the sister told Amy. She took a mug for herself and one for Edmond, sugared them, and joined him. He shuffled along the bench so she could sit down.
‘This was a major raid,’ Edmond said. He turned to his new-found friend. ‘Do you know if there were any fatalities?’
‘I gather there were – among the staff, and the poor children of one of them, who were living here.’
‘Remember what I was telling you,’ Edmond said to Amy grimly, ‘even children aren’t safe any more.’
She had experienced a feeling of pride at helping in the crisis, but now it faded into gloom at the losses.
Along the pavement opposite, a well-dressed family were walking purposefully, probably on their way to church. They paused to stare at the stricken hospital before continuing more slowly, as though distressed at the plight of the casualties.
Soon the sister walked briskly over to where Amy and Edmond were sitting. ‘Thank you, both, you’ve been a great help. We’ll send off the group with minor injuries soon. They’ll be fitted in somehow at St Luke’s for now, or in emergency accommodation if they don’t need a bed.’ She paused to take a gulp from her mug of tea.
Amy stood up to speak to her. ‘I’ve got a friend called Katherine working here,’ she said. ‘Katherine Harris – plumpish with dark hair. She’s been sent over from St Luke’s. Do you happen to know what ward she’s on?’
The sister’s smile had disappeared. I’m being foolish, Amy thought, they’re not going to give her a break to meet me, especially not when they’re dealing with an emergency. Oh, and we were going to meet her for lunch – I don’t suppose there’s much chance of that. She might be off duty by then, but she’ll be exhausted.
‘Katherine Harris, you say?’
‘Yes, that’s her.’
The sister took her arm. ‘Nurse, I’m extremely sorry to tell you, but she died in the raid. She was killed outright – there was nothing anyone could do.’
Amy swayed and Edmond got up to catch her other arm.
‘That’s simply dreadful, Sister,’ he said.
‘No!’ Amy cried, dizzy with shock.
The sister went on standing with them while Amy tried to come to terms with what had happened. She felt wretched and weak but tried to control her reaction; she must not become hysterical. Hadn’t the sister enough to deal with, without having to prop up a grieving young woman?
‘Your friend was crushed by some masonry,’ the sister said. ‘Her neck was broken.’
Amy clutched at Edmond. ‘Have you notified her family?’
‘Yes, of course, a telegram has been sent. It was all very distressing.’
‘Where is Katherine now?’ she ventured.
‘In the morgue… Do you want to see her?’
‘Yes.’
Edmond went with her as one of the VADs led her into the main wing of the hospital, still standing, though some areas were roped off. Concerned-looking men were assessing the damage, as though deciding whether parts of the hospital needed to be demolished. As she continued, Amy barely noticed the corridors they passed on their way to the morgue, which was unusually full. Katherine’s pitiful remains were shown her. Her eyes
were closed and, were it not for the bruising and the strange angle of her head, she looked as though she might be sleeping.
‘I can’t believe it!’ Amy cried.
Edmond held her tightly. ‘I’m so sorry, darling. She was a fine young woman.’
She stood there for a while longer, trying to wipe away tears that would not stop flowing.
‘Had we better be getting back to Beth and your aunt?’ he said.
‘Beth – oh, goodness – she’s due a feed!’
They hurried out of the hospital. An ambulance was just driving off.
Amy limped along as best she could with Edmond, as though in a dream. ‘I can’t accept it’s happened!’ she said. ‘I was so worried she would lose her young man in a battle in Italy. She never even made it abroad as a nurse. How could she get killed herself, here, in London?’
Chapter Four
Larchbury, February to March
After learning of Katherine’s death none of them had any inclination to go out to lunch. Auntie served them the remains of the chicken, but no-one had much appetite.
Auntie was absentminded and nervous. ‘Look at that crack down my parlour wall!’ she said.
It was a fine crack, barely perceptible. ‘Do you think the bomb did that?’ Amy asked.
‘Yes – remember how the house shook as it landed!’ She sniffed. ‘I shouldn’t grumble, I suppose. The houses nearer to the blast will have much worse damage.’
‘Yes – there are lots of windows missing, and some chimney stacks have come down.’
‘You’d better have a builder look at your wall and patch it up, just in case it’s unsafe,’ Edmond said.
When Pa arrived to collect them they were at least able to tell him the good news of Edmond’s encouraging report from the hospital, but the loss of the dedicated young nurse hung over them.
‘I must write to her parents,’ Amy said when she arrived back at The Beeches. ‘And to her uncle and aunt, as I’ve met them.’
Until the War is Over Page 4