Front Line Nurse

by Rosie James

  There were a few moments’ silence as the three relaxed in the comparative comfort of the canteen, then Heather said, rather shyly, ‘Do you mind if I ask you something, Angelina?’

  ‘Ask away,’ Angelina replied.

  ‘It’s just … it’s just that … do you ever wonder about your parents? I mean, I’ve never been without mine – but do you ever wonder why yours were not able to care for you, or even what they might have looked like?’ Heather looked away for a second. ‘Sometimes you must have felt all alone in the world.’

  Angelina didn’t hesitate. ‘No, I didn’t feel alone in the world, Heather – because I was never by myself, you see. There were always others right there beside me, just the same as me – and I realise how lucky I was to have been taken in by the Garfield, the only home I have known. It was always very busy – and quite noisy!’ Angelina smiled. ‘But as a matter of fact, I do remember sometimes feeling that it would be nice to be by myself without constant company, especially at night, because I have never had a bedroom of my own. There was never enough room for that. And no, I don’t remember wondering about my parents, not really. If I ever did think about who they might have been, my only thought was that they must have been very sad not to have brought me up themselves. Imagine having a baby, and then not watch it grow up,’ she added.

  ‘I … I hope you didn’t mind me asking you that, Angelina,’ Heather said quietly, ‘but I’ve never met anyone like you before. You may be an orphan, but you’re so positive, and … and happy all the time. Even over here! Whoever brought you into the world must have made sure that you came with all the qualities needed to survive – and thrive,’ she added.

  Jane half-stood, gathering up their empty mugs. ‘While I would be the first to agree with that, Heather, I think we’ve proved that we’ve all been given enough backbone to see us through what we’ve had to face – and what’s still ahead of us. So we must all thank our parents for that – even me! I suppose that when all is said and done, it’s all in the genes!’

  They made their way back to the hut, but much later, when they were all in bed and the others asleep, Angelina remembered only too well that there had been times when she’d pictured who her parents might have been and what they might have looked like.

  Of course, she had no answers to those questions, but one thing Angelina was absolutely certain about. When she died and went to heaven, she would recognise her mother and father straightaway, and she would have so much to tell them! She would run towards them, and then they would collapse into each other’s arms, laughing, and perhaps crying a bit with happiness, all talking at once …

  And it would be as if they had never been parted. With that blissful thought in her heart, Angelina fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  *

  As soon as they arrived at the Casualty Clearing Station, the nurses had the responsibility of deciding which of the casualties should be sent straight on to field hospitals for treatment, or which of them should remain in the isolation unit until their infections were under control, And sadly, inevitably, there were those who were already beyond human help, and should be taken to the mortuary.

  Almost at once, Angelina and Jane were instructed to stay and receive the ever-lengthening line of new wounded, while Heather was sent to the isolation unit. But at least, as before, the three were to share the same hut, so they had a little time to talk and share their day’s experience.

  Six days into this tour of duty began to feel more like six months to all the nurses as they dealt with the relentless tide of casualties making its way to comparative safety. The soldiers arrived straight from the trenches, and sometimes it was difficult to make out the features of the wounded as they were plastered in so much mud and blood.

  For them, the station was the first sanctuary of any help and hope, and despite the tremendous noise from the battle raging just a few miles away, all those staggering on foot, or being helped by a comrade or being carried on stretchers, made their way forward with cheerful enthusiasm, as if, at last, they had escaped hell and had everything to look forward to.

  But the medical staff was under no such illusion, because it was obvious that these were not just the wounded, they were often the dying, and no amount of care and attention was going to save them. And it was with a sick heart that, one day, when they were on duty together, Angelina said quietly to Jane, ‘How can we help this poor boy, Jane? Where on earth do we start?’

  The young soldier’s face had been completely shot away, but he was still managing to move his arms and legs as if begging someone to notice him and give him a chance of life.

  Jane pursed her lips at the question. ‘We just do what we can and do our best,’ she said. ‘The last two casualties we checked out are obviously for the isolation unit. Heather said they were seeing more and more cases with badly infected wounds, brought straight from the stinking, earthy tombs the poor devils have been stuck in for weeks and weeks.’

  ‘Yes, and apparently there are only two nurses on duty at any one time, so it’s a busy

  ward,’ Angelina said. ‘I thought poor Heather looked really stressed yesterday, which is unlike her.’

  *

  One Friday evening, after there’d been a lull in newcomers, Angelina, Heather and Jane managed to have an hour together in the canteen.

  ‘Isn’t it strange,’ Angelina said, as they queued at the counter for tea and sandwiches, ‘that despite all we’ve done and seen today – and all these terrible weeks – we can still manage to actually eat something?’ She shrugged. ‘It’s true that I don’t actually feel hungry, but I’m ready for a cheese sandwich.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve never given up food,’ Jane said, ‘under any circumstances. And if we were silly enough to stop eating we’d be useless. You’ve got to take on fuel to keep going, whatever you’re doing.’

  They took their supper back to the table and sat down. By this time, the canteen was quite full, and despite the horror of their circumstances, everyone seemed able to chat, and there was some brief laughter now and again. After a while, noticing that Heather had only nibbled at the edge of her sandwich, Angelina she nudged her arm.

  ‘What’s the matter – not to your taste, Heather?’

  Heather smiled quickly. ‘I’m not hungry. But the tea is good,’ she said, draining her mug, and Angelina stood up, taking it from her.

  ‘I’ll get you a refill.’

  At the counter, Angelina glanced across, a worried expression on her face. To her, Heather looked unwell, not like herself at all, and for the last couple of days she’d developed a dry, persistent cough. But she’d waved away any comments.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she’d said, ‘I’ve always been prone to this sort of thing.’

  *

  Three days later, Angelina and Jane sat by Heather’s bed side at the staff hospital, gently wiping her forehead and trying to make her comfortable as her breathing became more and more laboured.

  Neither of them spoke. There was nothing more to say to their friend whose life was slipping away before their eyes.

  Nurse Heather Matthews had been nursing soldiers affected by blue pus – the vile infection brought back from the trenches – and now, she had developed double pneumonia.

  Presently, the doctor on duty came over to the bed, and after a few moments he glanced at the two friends sitting either side. He shook his head.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. Suddenly, for the first time for many hours, Heather tried to sit up, grasping Angelina’s hand.

  ‘I can’t find Monty,’ Heather whispered faintly. ‘I don’t know where he is!’ She began to cry. ‘Please help me find him, Angelina, please! He should be here, on my bed … please …’

  Both girls leaned forward to console her, and Jane said, in her usual clear way, ‘Don’t you worry, Heather! We know exactly where Monty is and we’re going to fetch him back to you now, straightaway. Okay? Angelina and Jane, your two sisters, are on the case! Just leave it to us!
’

  Heather collapsed back on to her pillow and smiled faintly. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Oh look! Here he is! Monty! Bad boy! You know I don’t like you straying … that’s right, you curl up by me and keep warm …’

  An hour later, with Angelina and Jane holding her hands, Heather died peacefully in her sleep.

  Chapter 15

  Why had it never occurred to her that any one of them might become ill and die, Angelina asked herself over and over again? Doctors and nurses were supposed to be invincible, weren’t they? They were here with all the answers to treat the sick and wounded, not to fall by the wayside.

  But watching gentle Heather slip away from them like that had been the harshest lesson yet for Angelina. By now, she had seen many pass away, but not someone she had grown to love and care about. Losing Heather had been unthinkable, and for days afterwards it had been difficult to continue the job without wanting to run away and hide somewhere, anywhere. To escape.

  But there was no escape; the terrible routine continued as if nothing had happened, as if she, Heather and Jane were still there in the hut together in the evenings, talking, sharing their thoughts and hopes and fears Instead, Heather had been taken miles away from them, to rest in an English cemetery on French soil.

  Then, months later, one miserable, wet day in August, something happened that Angelina could only have imagined in her wildest dreams.

  Their group of nurses had come to the end of receiving the latest contingent of the wounded, and Angelina suddenly stopped short. What was that? What had she just heard?

  It was the sound of a voice calling her name, a voice so familiar, yet so far from her thoughts that for a second she thought she was hallucinating. But there it was again.

  ‘Angelina.’

  The warm, deep tone was unmistakable, and she turned quickly to find what – who – she was looking for.

  ‘Angelina?’

  And there he was, standing a short distance away. Tall, handsome, Alexander Garfield in an officer’s uniform, his eyes alight with recognition.

  For the briefest moment time stood quite still, then as if her feet had wings, Angelina almost threw herself forward towards him, and he put out his arm to stop her from tumbling and held her to him in a brief hug. He looked down at her and their eyes met.

  ‘I cannot believe what I am seeing,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘It is you, Angelina, my dear girl, isn’t it? You aren’t a mirage?’

  She smiled a wobbly smile, hoping that she wasn’t going to burst into tears. Which of God’s angels had decided that she and Alexander Garfield were to meet in this place and under these circumstances?

  ‘Oh, Mr Alexander,’ she said. ‘I had no idea, I mean, I didn’t know you had even enlisted …’

  He smiled a trifle wearily, still holding her close. ‘There was no option, really. It was obviously my duty.’ He paused. ‘Besides, I’d been told you were in uniform, Angelina. What would you have thought of me if I’d stayed nice and safe at home while you were over here doing your bit?’

  She was still looking up at him but moved away slightly, suddenly embarrassed that they were standing so close. He was still Mr Garfield’s son, and she just one of the orphans who’d been rescued. But their mutual reaction had been instinctive and natural. Two old friends finding momentary comfort in each other under terrible conditions. She realised that for those brief seconds she had been nearer, physically, to Alexander Garfield than ever before in her life, and it had taken this war, this stinking war, to make a dream come true. She cleared her throat.

  ‘Are you going to be here for long, Mr Alexander?’ she said, and he shook his head.

  ‘No – I’m back on the front line straightaway,’ he said. ‘The reason I’m here is that I was the only officer available to lead the small group accompanying our wounded to the Clearing Station. It’s a job I like to avoid if I can,’ he added, ‘but if I’d known I’d be coming across you – I mean, meeting someone from home – I might have been more enthusiastic!’

  His dark eyes looked her up and down, and he half-smiled. ‘I must say that outfit suits you very well, Angelina,’ he said. ‘You look very neat and competent and … very important! Absolutely perfect for the job in hand!’

  She glanced down, flicking a hand over her skirt. ‘As a matter of fact, I happen to be wearing the uniform which has just been cleaned, and which I only picked up from the laundry yesterday, so it is still comparatively decent. But – I’m glad you approve,’ she added shyly.

  Suddenly, Jane’s voice from a short distance away interrupted them. ‘Angelina, I’ve just been told that there’s another batch arriving in about an hour, so time for a quick bite first. Are you coming?’

  ‘Coming!’ Angelina called back. She glanced up at Alexander. ‘Sorry, I have to go. That’s how it is here I’m afraid, hardly any time to catch your breath, or even to know what day it is …’

  She knew she was stumbling over her words but she couldn’t help it. She was standing in the middle of a foreign field with Alexander right there beside her, and neither of them knew if they were ever to meet again, or what might happen to either of them. Even as those thoughts formed in her head she felt her knees tremble slightly. She turned to go, then glanced back.

  ‘I feel so … so … happy that we met each other, Mr Alexander,’ she said. ‘Who would have thought that we’d end up in the same patch of nightmare – even for a few moments – and actually come face to face?’

  He moved forward quickly then and grasped her hand. ‘Wait … wait a minute,’ he said. ‘Look, I don’t intend taking the team back until much later … perhaps about eleven o’clock, so is it possible that somehow, somewhere, we could have a longer chat, Angelina?’ He shook his head briefly. ‘The odds against us actually meeting were massive – unthinkable – so we mustn’t lose this chance to talk, to … you know, catch up, talk about home. Please say that you can get away for just a couple of hours – tonight – this evening? They must surely give you some time off?’

  His pleading took her by surprise, and for the first time she noticed how less than perfect he looked, saw the streaks of mud on his uniform, saw his hair, his beautiful dark hair wet and slightly matted in the front. How vulnerable he suddenly appeared. She smiled up at him.

  ‘Each new batch of wounded usually takes us a few hours to clear,’ she said, ‘but it’s only midday now, so with a bit of luck I should be free later on. I can’t really promise, but it’s possible that we could meet in the canteen – perhaps about nine o’clock?’ She made a face. ‘If I don’t arrive I can only apologise, but I’ll do my best, Mr Alexander, I really will.’

  His grasp of her hand tightened. ‘I understand, of course I do,’ he said. ‘But I will be there, I promise you, and I’ll hang on until the last minute in case you turn up.’ He gazed down at her. ‘Why do you keep calling me Mr Alexander?’ he said. ‘I am Alexander, Angelina, and we are old friends. We know each other too well for any formalities, please … I am Alexander. So remember that. Okay?’

  She smiled briefly. ‘All right,’ she said, hoping that she would remember the headmasterly instruction. He had been Mr Alexander all her life – all their lives. Could they really bridge the gap that had separated them for so long?

  *

  It was gone eight o’clock before Angelina and Jane made their way back to their hut. It had been a grueling afternoon, with more casualties than usual arriving, stretcher after stretcher, with the walking wounded stumbling alongside in an endless stream. All the wards were full, the mortuary nearly so.

  ‘I’m thankful that’s over,’ Jane announced as she opened the door of the hut. ‘I was just about ready to hand in my resignation!’

  ‘Oh Jane, don’t say things like that,’ Angelina said, following her inside. ‘I don’t think I could go on without knowing that you’re here too.’ She glanced across. ‘I don’t think I will ever get over losing Heather so quickly. It’s still hard to believe that she’s no longe
r here as well.’

  Jane flopped down on her bed and stretched out. ‘Don’t let’s get maudlin, old thing,’ she said. ‘That’s all we need. But what I want to know is how you managed to get that male hunk talking to you this morning! I saw you! What a smasher! You were obviously finding lots to say to each other and I was so jealous I nearly came across and scratched your eyes out.’

  Angelina couldn’t help smiling. Jane never missed a thing.

  ‘You will find this hard to believe, Jane,’ Angelina said as she bent over to take off her shoes, ‘but the hunk you mention is someone I’ve known all my life.’

  Jane interrupted. ‘Really? How incredible that you should meet up in this God-forsaken hell hole.’ She whistled through her teeth. ‘I only wish I had an old friend like that – tall, dark and handsome hardly covers it, does it?’

  Angelina didn’t reply to that, but said casually, ‘His name is Alexander Garfield, and his father, Mr Randolph, owns the orphanage where I was brought up. I’ve known Alexander since we were both little. He’s a few years older than me and he used to visit the orphanage quite a lot – especially in the early days. I haven’t seen him so much lately,’ she added, ‘because I left the orphanage when I was 14 – as I mentioned the other day – and he’s been away at college for several years.’

  Jane yawned loudly. ‘Well, from the way he was looking at you this morning, I think he has missed you rather a lot!’ She turned to glance at Angelina. ‘You seemed rather overwhelmed, too, if I may say so. It’s a shame that they’re not going to be here for long, or you might have got off with him!’

  Angelina turned and smiled. ‘Well, I did think there might be just an hour or two to see him again,’ she said lightly, ‘so I promised to meet him in the canteen about nine, if I possibly could. I said it might be difficult, though.’

  ‘Well, in that case, you’d better go straight to the wash house and get cleaned up,’ Jane said decisively. ‘What are you going to wear to impress this Adonis!’