by Kate Eastham
He wiped his face with his hand again and then said, ‘Not today, I’m afraid. We need to get on up to the army camp. There’s another wave of cholera sweeping through the soldiers and they’re asking for some more of your cholera powders – that’s if you have the supply.’
Cholera, thought Ada. Nobody told me there’d be cholera involved.
‘I have indeed but I thought that you British swore by the cholera sash, even though I’ve told you many times that they are a useless superstition,’ she said, laughing and pointing to the piece of red cloth that he wore tied around his waist.
‘Well, we British like to employ all means when it comes to cholera and we are willing to try your powders as well,’ he said.
‘Because you know for a fact that the powders are the only thing that stand a chance of helping.’
‘Well, I’m not sure about that. After all, what you call useless superstition has worked well for me so far,’ Lampeter replied, looking down at the red sash, making sure that it was secure.
‘I’ll get you the powders,’ said Mrs Seacole, laughing again. ‘You need to get them up there as fast as you can cos those pieces of cloth are useless.’
As they got up to leave Ada looked across and saw Sally still busy with the soldiers. She wished that she could stay here and keep well away from the cholera yet she had no choice but to follow along behind Lampeter as he made for the door.
Scrambling back up beside Lampeter, she held on tight to the side of the wagon once more, sensing his urgency. Ada remembered her grandfather telling her the story of the cholera epidemic that had hit Liverpool hard before she was born. In those dark days almost every family in her local area had been hit by it as it swept through the city. She began to feel a bit sick as they lurched away towards the plague, hoping that she wouldn’t catch it.
Lampeter seemed twitchy. Ada sensed this was about the cholera, but with him you could never be sure. She was racking her brains for some topic of conversation that would distract them both, but nothing would come. So she sat quiet, swaying along beside him as they lurched towards the camp. As soon as she saw the white pointed canopies of the tents her heart started to pound a bit faster. Her anxiety was fuelled even further as an orderly came running over to them, shouting, ‘Stay back, stay back! The cholera is bad here.’
Lampeter pulled the wagon up sharp and called to him from a distance: ‘How many dead?’
‘Six men this morning in one tent alone. Don’t come any closer. Leave the supplies on the ground and I’ll pick them up.’
‘Of course!’ shouted Lampeter, even more twitchy now and eager to be off.
He gave Ada the cholera powders and she clambered down to leave them on the ground; before she was fully back in the wagon they heard a second voice shouting and saw another orderly running towards them.
‘We have a soldier just brought in with an injury – not bad but he’ll need a bit of stitching. The hospital tent is full of cholera so we don’t want to put him in there. Can you take him back down to Balaklava?’
‘Has he had any contact with anyone affected by cholera, any contact at all?’ asked Lampeter, clearly worried.
‘No, not yet, he’s just arrived from the front line.’
‘All right then, send him down as quick as you can.’
In a matter of minutes the orderly reappeared with a lad at his side, his arm in a sling. Before she even saw his face, Ada recognized the brown tunic and the upright posture of the young man she had first seen on the ship, the one who looked so much like Frank.
Her heart missed a beat as she watched him approach their wagon with a confident but apologetic air. As he came closer she realized that he had something tucked into his tunic. It was a small dog.
Lampeter got down to give the bandage and sling on the boy’s arm a quick check and help him into the back. Then, much to Ada’s surprise, he gave the small scruffy white mongrel with a brown patch over one eye a friendly stroke before handing it up to Ada.
‘Keep it safe, will you? This young man will have enough to do holding himself steady without having to worry about this little one as well.’
‘I will,’ said Ada, not really sure about what to do with dogs and hoping that she would be able to keep hold of it. Fortunately the creature seemed to know what was best and easily settled on Ada’s lap. She rested her free hand on it just in case but it seemed to be used to travelling by cart.
Once they were moving Lampeter spoke quietly to her. ‘The boy seems to have a nasty flesh wound in his upper arm but it looks like the shell hasn’t touched the bone so it should be a reasonably straightforward procedure to dig it out and stitch it up.’
He then reached across to stroke the dog that was curled up on Ada’s lap.
The sleepy dog wagged its tail and Ada smiled to herself. At least the dog seemed to like him. She glanced round to check on the young soldier who was wedged in the back of the wagon. She could see the back of his head, and his dark blond hair was so like Frank’s it almost made her want to cry.
By the time they reached Balaklava, Ada was exhausted. She didn’t dare look around at the young man in the back; though it was nice to see someone who reminded her of Frank, it was also painful. She was glad when Tom Dunderdale appeared to help the lad out.
Lampeter told Tom to take the new admission straight into the ward and that he would be there directly. He then took the dog off Ada’s knee, jumped down from the wagon with it and walked towards the hospital. Looking back, almost as an afterthought, he said, ‘Get your apron, nurse, and come and assist with our new patient.’
‘Of course,’ she said, not needing to be asked twice.
She found the patient sitting quietly on the edge of a bed with his bloodstained jacket still draped around his shoulders. Tom had already supplied him with a large glass of rum, knowing that he’d need it in the next few hours.
Ada, masking her disquiet at seeing the boy who looked so much like her brother in such a vulnerable state, adopted the no-nonsense tone that she’d heard Rose and Mary Roberts use: ‘What’s your name?’
‘Billy Collins.’
She heard herself giving him instructions: ‘We’ll need to get you out of that shirt so the doctor can have a proper look at the wound. Then I’m going to very carefully start to remove the bandage,’ she said, ‘but if the wound starts to bleed I will have to put it back on again.’
‘Understood, Sister,’ said Billy, smiling.
Ada held her breath as she carefully unwound the bandage and then they both looked at the blood-soaked pad covering the wound.
In the very moment she decided to leave this undisturbed until Dr Lampeter was with them, she heard his voice behind her. ‘Leave that where it is for the time being, nurse. The wound will have started to clot under there and we don’t want to disturb it just yet.’
Ada stepped back and allowed Lampeter to come and have a closer look. He didn’t look at the patient’s face or ask him any questions, but told him that the shot was still in there and they’d have to dig it out.
Ada told Billy to lie down, doing her best to soothe him. Lampeter knelt by the side of the bed and quickly removed the dressing pad. There was an immediate trickle of blood that made Ada catch her breath. ‘That’s fine, just a bit, nothing to worry about,’ Lampeter said almost to himself. ‘It must have missed the major vessels because he hasn’t haemorrhaged,’ he continued. ‘Can you move your hand?’
Billy did so with some pain but not much difficulty.
‘Looks like the nervous connections aren’t too disrupted either,’ Lampeter muttered before sticking his finger into the wound, making the lad nearly shoot off the bed.
Lampeter looked irritated and told him that he really needed to be able to examine the track of the shot. Billy, white as a sheet, nodded. ‘I understand that, doc, but if you could go a bit careful, like.’
Lampeter almost, but didn’t, tut.
Ada grabbed Billy’s hand and glared a warning at Lampete
r. This time, the lad was prepared, and although he squeezed Ada’s hand in pain and sweat broke out on his forehead he was able to manage while the doctor completed the examination.
Before Billy and Ada had time to think, Lampeter had a long pair of forceps in his right hand and was back in the wound. After a bit of digging around, which Billy managed by almost breaking Ada’s hand, the forceps came out clasping the piece of shot. Then Lampeter was straight back in the wound with the forceps, nearer the surface, this time taking out pieces of cloth and debris that had been carried in at the moment of impact.
‘It’s important to get as much debris out of the wound as possible,’ he said. ‘I have observed that those where it’s left in are much more likely to suppurate, which can kill the patient.’
Ada saw the look of alarm on Billy’s face and tried to reassure him. ‘But you seem to have got it clean.’
‘Yes, yes,’ replied Lampeter impatiently.
‘That’s good then,’ she said, smiling at Billy.
Lampeter then told Ada that they’d pack the wound with iodine overnight; they’d found this also helped prevent suppuration and seemed to improve the patient’s chance of survival. Ada smiled at Billy again and told him that this was just routine procedure; he was going to be fine.
While Lampeter went off to find iodine and lint, Ada sat holding Billy’s hand. They didn’t speak but it seemed the most natural thing in the world for them to do this. They were almost relaxed now that the wound had been treated.
Lampeter was soon back with a big bottle of the yellow-brown liquid. As he poured it generously on to the lint, its sharp distinctive smell met Ada’s nostrils and it seemed somehow comforting. It smelt clean; it smelt medical. However, the next step caused Billy to almost leap off the bed again: Lampeter poured iodine directly into the wound, saying, ‘It will sting now but you’ll find that it will help in the long run.’
While Billy was struggling to manage the pain, Lampeter quickly packed the wound with the lint and then applied a pad and a firm bandage.
‘We need to leave the packing in overnight. I’ll be back in the morning to suture the wound,’ he said as he walked away from the bed.
Billy managed to shout after him, ‘Where’s my dog?’
Lampeter replied, without checking his pace, ‘He has been fed and I’ll have him sent to the ward directly.’
Ada stayed with Billy until the intense pain had settled and she was still there when Tom appeared with the dog under his arm.
‘It’s nearly eight o’ clock, Ada,’ he said. ‘You’d best be getting yourself off the ward or there’ll be trouble – Miss Nightingale’s rules.’
‘Oh, I forgot about that,’ said Ada, then, turning to Billy, ‘I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.’
Tom put the dog down and it jumped on to the bed and scrabbled up to Billy, wagging its tail and trying to lick his face. Billy soothed the dog and quietened it with his good hand, and the animal soon found a comfortable spot on the bed.
Ada didn’t want to leave. Even though she could see that the lad was fine, she would have sat by him all night if she could. Sensing this, Tom chivvied her along. ‘He’ll be all right, miss, truly.’ And she knew that she would have to trust that he would.
Ada slept badly that night. She felt that she’d somehow left a part of herself back on the ward, and fretted that Billy’s wound might open up and bleed, that suppuration would set in with fever overnight.
She dreamt about Frank and saw again the room in the Dock Traffic Office and her grandfather’s face as he told her he was missing. She woke with a start, covered in sweat, her heart pounding, sitting up on her mattress on the floor not knowing where she was for a moment. And then remembering … She had come out here to look for Frank but now she felt herself being dragged into all kinds of other things and she was no nearer to finding him. All she had to hold on to was that feeling in her bones that he was still alive, her brother was still alive somewhere – but increasingly that feeling also told her that Frank wasn’t out here in the Crimea; he had never been out here.
She got up from her bed on the floor. It was still early and the rest of the nurses were sleeping, but she needed to get on and do something; she needed to get to work on the ward, and she wouldn’t be able to settle until she had checked that Billy was alive and well. If she couldn’t find her brother she could at least try to make sure that Billy was safe.
17
‘The grateful words and smile which rewarded me for binding up a wound or giving a cooling drink was a pleasure worth risking life for at any time.’
Mary Seacole
‘Don’t worry, nurse, he’s up and about – he’s only gone out for a smoke,’ said the old soldier in the bed opposite Billy’s, just before his entire body was convulsed by a fit of coughing.
‘Thank you,’ said Ada. ‘Are you all right? Can I do anything to help?’
‘No, no,’ he wheezed between coughs, ‘my chest’s buggered, that’s all.’ And then he was coughing again and needing to spit in the bowl beside his bed.
Ada stood for a moment and made sure that he could get his breath before moving over to the window.
She glanced outside to the bench where the men sat for their smokes. Billy was there with the little dog beside him. Thank goodness.
She turned back to smile at the old soldier, but he was hawking up phlegm again, his face dark red and his nose purple. Some of the respiratory cases suffered terribly and there was little anyone could do. Poor man, she thought. She would come back to him later when he was able to speak.
From there Ada went straight to check on Duncan Brodie. He was fast asleep and she didn’t want to disturb him. She knew that today would be a big day for him; he would be trying out some crutches and she wanted to make sure that she was there to help.
It was time now to go to Sister Roberts to see what her duties would be that morning. She made sure to ask if they would give her a shout when Duncan was ready to move.
There was plenty to do before then, however, and even more than usual because Miss Smith had insisted that they continue to strip beds, scrub floorboards and root out vermin wherever they could. While the nurses were going about their duties – helping the men wash, giving them breakfast and the morning ration of rum – Tom and, much to Ada’s disgust, Cedric Wilson, were moving beds and lifting up floorboards. He made her blood run cold, that bastard. Ada shuddered as he looked over and nodded good morning to her, turning her face away and feeling her cheeks burning red. He tried to say something to her, something smart, but she glared at him. Shut up and keep away, said the expression in her eyes.
She was glad just then to see Billy come in with the little dog trotting at his side. He had distracted her at exactly the right time; a few moments longer and she might well have gone over to Cedric and punched him right on the nose.
As she worked stripping the beds, she kept an eye on what Cedric was doing. Yes, he was helping Tom but she saw that he was also making a thorough examination of the contents of the boxes holding patients’ belongings under some of the beds. Tom picked up on her troubled expression and soon worked out the cause. He shouted over, ‘There’s no need to be checking under there, Cedric. Come and help me lift up these floorboards.’
Ada gave Tom a small smile then looked away as Cedric walked past her, much closer than he needed, almost but not quite brushing her clothing. She could feel his eyes boring into her back and felt the hairs on her neck prickle as he passed by. Once he had gone past and Ada felt satisfied that Tom would keep an eye on him, she went in search of Rose.
She found her with Arnold.
Yesterday, the doctors had told them that they could remove the bandages and splints from his arms and see how it went. Ada was pleased to see that the wound on his cheek had healed well and had not broken down since the stitches were removed. His smile was lopsided and he couldn’t speak or eat properly, but he had beaten suppuration and at least he was alive.
Trying not to think about what the future might hold for someone like Arnold, Ada gave him a bright smile and asked him if it was all right for her to help Rose remove the bandages on his arms.
He nodded and tried to form the words but only noise would come.
Ada smiled reassuringly and then set to. There seemed to be miles of bandage and padding on each arm and as they worked away, unravelling layer after layer, they forced themselves to ignore the lining of black lice that had woven their way into each fold. The bandages were alive with them.
At last they got down to the thin arms that had lain for so long in their cocoon of bandage. At that moment of their uncovering they looked like they might never be of any use again. But the wounds on both arms seemed to have healed well, the scars ragged-looking but with no signs of suppuration. Then Arnold tried to move his arms but they would not respond.
Seeing the panic in his eyes Rose said quietly, ‘They’ve just got used to being still, that’s all. You need to go slowly and start by moving your hands. They will work again,’ she reassured gently. ‘Just give them time.’
Arnold looked at Ada then, as if seeking another opinion.
‘Nurse Blackwood is right,’ said Ada. ‘Of course it will take time to get moving; you just need to do a bit more each day, starting from now. When we’ve gone, start gently, but don’t try and move at first, just get used to having your arms free without the splints.’ Ada glanced at Rose to make sure she approved of what was being said and then she thought of something else. ‘It will take a long time but you might be able to hold a pencil. Do you know your letters?’
Arnold nodded, and when he tried to smile she knew that he had realized what that meant.
‘And if you can write, well then, you can spell words out on paper to help you communicate.’
He nodded again more vigorously.
‘Good idea, Nurse Houston,’ said Rose, smiling.
As they turned away from Arnold’s bed, Ada could see Sister Roberts down the ward. She was holding a pair of wooden crutches and gesturing for her to come.
