by Erica Nyden
They both knew about the colonel and had been saddened to hear it. But their doubtful faces—especially Mother’s, with her flair for blending uncertainty with disapproval—told her that this line of defense changed nothing. They still thought she was mad.
She didn’t care. Their concern had given her the chance to state her convictions aloud for the first time. Lingering doubts were banished for good, and oddly, like when the sun shines on a bitterly cold day, she felt less sad. She stood and hastened to the sideboard, in need of that nightcap. Lifting the crystal decanter, she poured more liquor into her glass than she normally would, but that was all right. She’d find some way to celebrate the holiday, even if she did so alone.
“I’m Emily’s mother,” she said, her confidence at its zenith though her back was to them, “and I’ll speak to her about her father as I wish. For him, we shall carry on, positive and hopeful. You needn’t agree, but you’ll not contradict me in front of her.”
Finally, she turned and looked at her parents over the lip of her tilted snifter. Their doubt had changed to bafflement—mouths were open, yet nothing came out.
“Don’t look so forlorn,” she said almost smiling before taking another sip. The brandy was sweet and warming. “It’s Christmas—we’re to enjoy our time together, war or no war.”
Their silence was too much. She cranked up the wireless then lifted the decanter. “Who’d care for another drink?”
Despite the Christmas Eve quarrel, the overall holiday was a pleasant one. On Christmas Day, Emily’s delight at ripping paper and shoving it into her mouth kept everyone laughing and distracted from the row of the night before. On the following days, the family lived amicably, hoping to emulate the peace they wished to see in the world. Her parents must’ve understood that no matter how outrageous they considered her position, she’d not waver. Rehashing it would only waste the little time they had left together.
“A smashing success,” Dr. Talbot remarked as he and Mrs. Talbot readied to board their train. In his arms, he bounced Emily with a rhythm that matched his mood, jovial and lighthearted. “Not only the rearing of this adorable little gem, but your contribution to the war effort as well. You ought to be proud of yourself, my dear.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” Olivia replied. Not meeting his eyes, she toyed with Emily’s shoe instead. Praise from her father was hard to accept, especially so close to his departure.
“I’m proud of you too, Olivia.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“I’m serious. What you’re doing, helping these men and training these nurses. The patients’ eyes light up when you enter the room. They know you have their best interests at heart, whether it’s something they want to hear or not.”
Her mother gently tugged one of Emily’s honey-colored curls. “And remember, dear, whilst you’re working hard to help so many, you also need to put your daughter’s best interests in the forefront of your mind. I’m not asking you to stop loving William. I’m asking you to think of your daughter. It’s time you make her your priority. William would agree.”
The woman was still an expert at twisting a compliment to serve her purpose. Olivia determinedly widened her smile.
Dr. Talbot laughed, as always, steering the topic away from conflict. “All right, then, one more big kiss for your granddad.”
Obliging as usual, Emily planted a wet one on his cheek before he transferred her back to her mother and assisted his wife onto the train.
She was sorry to see them go, especially for Emily’s sake. The holidays were over, and it was back to war as usual. Routines would resume, decisions would be made, and she’d be in charge, answering to no one but herself. Olivia smiled and gave Emily a squeeze as she walked to the car park, her head a little higher and her steps lighter.
Chapter 38
Weeks after Emily’s first birthday, she used her chubby legs to walk for the first time. Granted, she fell onto the grass almost at once but was keen to try again, encouraged by her mother, Annie, and several patients passing through the early spring garden.
“Aaaagh!” her tiny mouth screeched as she stood and had another go.
Five more successful steps brought her to Olivia, who lifted her to the sky.
“Marvelous!” cheered Private Kinney who limped by with Cora on his arm. “You’ve an athlete there, sure enough, Nurse Morgan.”
Emily brought delight to Keldor’s ailing residents no matter how gloomy their disposition. Her jolly nature increased as she grew and proved contagious, especially when she imitated Jasper’s barks or the moos of cows. The names she gave people received laughs as well. “Polleeeee,” in a high screech not unlike that of a monkey, was reserved for Mrs. Pollard. Annie was known as “Nanny.” “Mamamamama” was a common word, repeated in a singsong pattern. Sometimes “Dadadada” rang out during their daily perusal of photographs of William, which got Olivia laughing and crying at the same time.
By Emily’s second birthday, the beds had been emptied and refilled at least seventy times since the annex’s opening. But in recent months, vacant beds remained vacant, a fact that hadn’t escaped the fastidious Dr. Davies. In May 1944, he deemed the annex overstaffed and insisted one of Olivia’s nurses be transferred straightaway. He didn’t allow her to choose—she wasn’t sure how she could have—and slated Danni for Southampton on June first. Danni admitted that a part of her was excited for the move, since Billy lived close by in Portsmouth with his mother. The two had been corresponding since he left Keldor over a year ago, but still, she didn’t want to abandon the annex. Therefore, Olivia had fought to keep her with all the fire she’d become known for, arguing that patient numbers were sure to increase.
Her point was proven, to no avail, days after Danni’s departure.
“You’re listening to the BBC Home Service. This morning at dawn, the Allied troops began a surprise attack on Hitler’s European stronghold …”
Mrs. Pollard smiled at Olivia over the kitchen’s wireless. “This is the turn we’ve needed, Mistress Olivia. Peace be on its way. You can hear it in his voice, can’t you?”
She had a hard time adopting Mrs. Pollard’s enthusiasm. Yes, the consequences of the Allied actions of 6 June, 1944, would be monumental—and as the lead nurse of a convalescent home, Olivia’s mind was fixed on the immediate future.
In a matter of days, they acquired fifteen more beds to accommodate twenty-six new patients. Many of the injured British, American, Canadian, and Free French Forces soldiers who’d survived the Normandy beaches went to Plymouth and Portsmouth hospitals for medical attention. Those who didn’t die at the hospital yet weren’t well enough to go home were referred to convalescent homes throughout England, including Hartford House and Keldor.
“Will they send more help, then?” her mother asked during their weekly telephone call.
Petrol for private use had become a thing of the past, and the ban on nonemergency travel not specific to the war effort made it difficult for Emily’s grandparents to get to Keldor. After fragmented and often confusing conversations with the two-year-old, they updated one another by telephone instead. Olivia pictured their cheeks almost touching above the telephone mouthpiece, her mother attempting to wrest it from her father.
“No more help, no, and I’ve no idea what I’ll do with only one nurse,” Olivia said. “It was difficult before with fifteen patients and two nurses, and I worked as much as they did. But thirty patients with just Cora and me? I know how hospitals operate, but this isn’t a hospital, and these men aren’t confined to their beds. They need exercise and one-on-one assistance. The two of us won’t be able to care for them, not properly.”
“Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll make it work, Livvy,” Dr. Talbot said.
Unconvinced, Olivia twisted the telephone cord round her finger.
“What would you think about adding me to your staff?” her mother asked. “I promise I won’t try to take over—it’s your ship, you’re the captain. I would follow all orders o
bligingly.”
She couldn’t be serious. Olivia dropped the cord and tapped the desk with her fingernail. It took zero imagination to picture her mother wielding her experience for the “betterment of the annex” whilst sacrificing all the systems Olivia had put in place. She’d be supplanted as head nurse of the annex in no time.
“What about your patients in London?” Dr. Talbot asked.
Yes, what about her patients? And what about Daddy, for that matter? He’d be terribly lonely without her again.
“Oh, I’ve got plenty of capable girls who can deliver babies in my stead,” her mother said, “and Virginia is brilliant at telling them what to do and when to do it. What do you say, Livvy? I could help with patients and with Emily. Yes, you’ve got Annie, but having the babe’s gran around might be nice for her too.”
She did need the help, and her mother’s years of medical practice and tough love were the antidote the injured soldiers needed. For Emily to have her gran at Keldor would be a blessing. And maybe, just maybe, her mother would stay true to her word and let Olivia rule the roost.
“Dad, how would you feel about it? If Mother came to Keldor for a spell?”
“My dear,” he said in the soothing tone she’d drawn comfort from her entire life, “if it will help you in your efforts, I’m all for it.”
“All right then, Mother. You start as soon as you can get here.”
By the twentieth of June, soldiers of nearly every rank filled Keldor’s infirmary beds. To accommodate the growing population, two beds were added to B Ward and three to D Ward. Permanent residents no longer used the sitting room. Aptly named the S Ward, it held beds for ten patients, forcing the staff to use the dining room for meetings and meals.
The library remained Olivia and Emily’s domain. Whilst Olivia buried her head in paperwork, Emily sat at her own small desk producing masses of impressionistic art with wax crayons and watercolors. A collection of these masterpieces went into a leather-bound album on a shelf, whereas the outstanding works were hung on the library doors. Most were pictures of her family: Mummy, Daddy, herself, and Jasper. Polly had a portrait on the door as well. Today, Emily worked on one of her daddy, using a photograph Olivia had given her of him in his uniform as a model.
It was toward this secluded refuge that her mother’s voice quickly approached. “Olivia!”
“Yes, Mother,” she lowered her papers before looking up.
“The men are all settled in S Ward, and—”
“Good.”
“One of them says he knows you. Says he was a close friend of William’s, a Lieutenant Werren? It must be in your papers there. Do you recognize the name?”
Olivia sprinted to the other end of the house.
S Ward was quiet. Two men tapped tentatively on crutches around the room, whilst six lay in their beds reading or trying to sleep. One had joined Cora outside for a turn in his wheelchair, and the very last sat in his own wheelchair by the window looking out onto Charlotte’s Garden.
“Peder?” Olivia asked, her breath in short supply.
“Olivia!”
Peder’s smile, though genuine, contrasted with his condition. A sling held his left arm in place, and his shoulder bulged with a hefty bandage. The side of his head was covered in gauzy wrap and an enormous bruise blackened the side of his face, reddening the whites of his eyes.
“How I wish William were here to see this: me, recuperating in his home and under his wife’s care, no less,” Peder said. “My parents told me Keldor had become a convalescent home. I’m grateful. I’d much rather be here in the home of my best mate than at Hartford House. The Pearns were never great friends of our family’s, anyway, not the way the Morgans were.”
He winked as though Olivia knew what he was talking about.
Her eyes flitted to the blanket over his lap, cascading down to the one foot that peeked out from under it.
She knelt beside him and took his hand. “Have you lost your leg then, Peder?”
“It got away from me at Sword Beach.” He sniffed. “But I’m alive, wouldn’t you know?”
“Yes, you are” was all she could say. She was so happy to see him, but considering the circumstances, she had no idea how to relay this.
“You received my letter, I take it?” he asked. “About William? I’m terribly sorry I couldn’t tell you in person. Not until now, that is. This war … I’d no idea it would take so much.”
He looked down at his lap, and his merry disposition threatened to crumble.
“You’ll be in good hands here, Lieutenant.”
“Ah, no titles, please. We’re family. Call me Peder, understand? This ‘lieutenant’ business died with my leg.” He chuckled. “I still can’t believe I was ever promoted. I suppose William would’ve been proud. Jenna says you’ve had a baby girl. Has she been round to meet her yet?”
“Not yet.” She was certain Jenna’s offer to visit had been made out of politeness.
“Not surprising. She’s been in the Middle East, hopping from one military hospital to another. Leaves aren’t as plentiful when you’re posted that far away. She’s met an American.”
“An American?”
“Mm. Tell me about your little one. Dear God, I pray she’s taken after you.” His grin was infectious.
“Olivia,” her mother called. “Hartford House is on the telephone.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“This is your mother?” Peder said as her mother approached. “I should’ve guessed. You two could be sisters.”
A deep breath helped Olivia rein in the overwhelming nature of the last five minutes. After a brief introduction she needn’t have made, she smiled. “I haven’t read over your paperwork yet, Peder, but I’ll tell you what we tell all the patients here.” She stood and glanced at her mother for corroboration. “The more you cooperate and work hard during your physiotherapy, the quicker we can get you home.”
“Home,” he repeated. “Looks as though Mother will have to make room for me in the dower house. This certainly won’t get me up to my old flat.” He lifted his remaining foot and faked a laugh that Olivia disregarded.
“I have work to return to.” She placed her hand on her mother’s arm. “Nurse Talbot will help you if I’m not available. I’ll return later with Emily and perhaps get you outdoors for a walk before tea. Tomorrow we’ll start physiotherapy specific to that shoulder injury, and we’ll exercise your leg. Shall I send for Mrs. Pollard? She’ll be delighted to see you.”
His smile was dazzling. “Please! A squeeze from Polly is exaclty what I need. Thank you, Olivia. And it was nice meeting you, Nurse Talbot.”
With thirty patients and three wards, Olivia did her best to divide the duties fairly amongst the three caregivers. Each nurse managed a handful of patients from each ward, depending on the patient’s needs. Olivia carried the lightest caseload with six patients, which allowed her time to process ongoing paperwork, manage the staff, and communicate patient progress to the doctors at Hartford. Cora and Nurse Talbot split the other twenty-four patients between them.
Peder Werren was the sixth patient on Olivia’s caseload, and by three o’clock on his first day at Keldor, she had him outside. To her delight, the sun was shining, though lingering moisture left the air pungent with life. The fine pea gravel wasn’t the easiest thing to push a wheelchair over, but once they made it to the garden’s tamped dirt paths, the going was a little easier.
“Have you seen your parents yet?” she asked.
“Not yet. We’ve spoken on the telephone. Mum was a wreck. They’re happy I’m alive and thrilled that I’ve been sent here.”
“They’re welcome to visit. The annex can seem a bit claustrophobic, especially on wet days, but we’ll find a place where you can enjoy a proper visit.”
“Thank you. I might wait a week or two. I’m not sure I want Mum to see my face like this—or Father either, for that matter. His health is little improved since the war started. It’s as though this new war has
resurrected days of old, bringing back all his horrid memories. The Werrens aren’t resilient fighters like the Morgans, you know.”
If he wasn’t so serious, she might’ve laughed at the comment. No one, especially the Morgans, was strong enough to avoid war’s ruinous aftermath. But since Peder had lost his leg, it’s no wonder he felt down. Best not to keep the event bottled up, no matter how painful. “Do you mind my asking exactly what happened, Peder, on Sword Beach?”
“Not at all,” he said, sounding matter-of-fact. “We arrived early to clear the beach for invasion. We disarmed and removed mines, all whilst under constant fire, mind you. The Germans knew we were there.” He was quiet for a moment, as though his memories had yet to catch up with his words. “I can’t say how many mines I’d successfully deactivated before that morning. I know how they work, and the pressure’s never bothered me. I focus on the task—it’s not so different from solving an intricate puzzle—and let it carry me.”
She stopped walking and came around to face him. He’d raised a hand to his face, covering his mouth. “But no matter how much training you have, I’m not sure it can truly prepare you for death.”
He looked away. She took the hint, and after touching his hand, resumed their walk. They rounded the wych elm. Birdsong filled their stalled conversation.
“So many were depending on me to be perfect—actual lives were depending on me, and I failed. Nerves took over, and I let them. I still can’t believe I’m alive. A mine that size should’ve killed me. It did kill three others. Hopkinson didn’t die on the spot like Mitchell and Ellis. He waited until we were in hospital long enough to hear he lost his legs, an arm, and both eyes. Considering the news, he died hours later.”
As if programmed, the wind stirred. Peder shuddered. Gently, she removed the rug from his lap and placed it around his shoulders.
In the process, he clasped her arm, his red eyes flooded with worry. “Do you think me weak?”
