Survivor

by Lesley Pearse

  ‘Who’s been talking?’ she asked, immediately on the defensive.

  Dr Hambling first became aware that Mariette had become something of a counsellor when Freda came to him and told him that her sister wanted to take her children from her. Freda had lost her frightened mouse look, and she said Mariette had made her realize that she had to fight for her children. She’d asked for help to get a home of her own so she had a safe place to take her family.

  Before long, Dr Hambling and other staff were noticing that Mariette was often having very earnest conversations with other patients, and all at once those meek and mild people were asserting themselves, asking to be put in touch with organizations that might help with their problem, or just looking and acting more positive about their future.

  ‘Nothing goes unnoticed here,’ Dr Hambling said. ‘But it’s excellent that you are getting other patients to talk. Often the psychological problems with an amputation are greater than the physical ones. You probably know that Freda came to me, asking for help in getting rehoused, and she would never have been brave enough to do that under her own steam. I honestly think her sister had convinced her that she was of no use to her children and that it was kinder to abandon them.’

  Mariette beamed at Dr Hambling’s approval. She’d half expected to be told to back off and not to stick her nose in other people’s problems. She had found she was very good at getting people to open up about their anxieties, and she could see for herself how much it helped them to be able to discuss possible solutions. It also helped her to put aside her own worries and sadness.

  ‘Will you be able to help Freda? She’s desperate to get her children back.’

  ‘It’s all in hand. But let’s talk about you, young lady! Will you slow down and take this leg at the pace we suggest? We do know a thing or two.’

  Mariette laughed. She liked Dr Hambling, with his wild, white hair and bushy beard. He was old, he’d been operating on the wounded in the First World War, and it was the things he saw there which had made him want to work on prosthetics and help amputees to lead normal lives. Morgan had told her he was considered the best in his field.

  ‘OK, I’ve learned my lesson,’ she said. ‘May I put it back on and show you how I’m walking now?’

  The first time she saw her ‘leg’ she almost burst into tears. She’d seen other people’s, but it hadn’t prepared her for her own. That sickly pinky-beige Bakelite covering, the hefty straps and the sheer weight of the beastly thing made her think she’d rather use crutches for ever.

  She couldn’t help but remember Morgan on the ship, running his fingers from her toes, along her feet, and right up her legs. He said she had the best legs he’d ever seen. No man was ever going to want to do that to a one-legged girl. She couldn’t even imagine a man holding her in his arms and kissing her. She might still have a pretty face, but an artificial leg would put anyone off.

  Dr Hambling watched as Mariette strapped the leg on. He could see by her expression that it repelled her, but she had decided to come to terms with it. And love it or hate it, she needed it.

  To the doctor’s mind Mariette was a fascinating curiosity: defiant, impatient, bold, funny, given to wild ideas, often pig-headed and very brave. But she also had a very tender side to her, and she cared about people, especially those less able than herself. If she’d been born a man, she would have made a fine officer.

  She was also undeniably beautiful.

  Mr Mercer had commented on it, saying, ‘She lights up any room she is in.’ How right he was.

  Some might say that it would be easier for a beautiful woman to adjust to a prosthetic leg than a plain woman, because people would want to help her. But Dr Hambling had found the reverse to be true: people shied away when they saw flawed beauty. But he had a feeling that, as long as Mariette was still breathing, she would never stop striving to be everything she had been before she lost her leg. And a real man would see her true worth and never think of her disability.

  ‘Another couple of weeks and you’ll be fit to go home,’ he said, as she walked up and down in front of him. He wished he could tell her that her walk was identical to a normal two-legged person’s, but he couldn’t. She had to swing the prosthetic limb in order to take a step, and she was still at the stage where this was very obvious. With practice it would become less noticeable, but she would never walk as she once had.

  ‘I wish that was “home” home,’ Mariette said with a grin. ‘But I guess there’s no chance of a ship taking me to New Zealand?’

  ‘Now surely you want to be here for the end-of-the-war celebrations?’ Dr Hambling teased. ‘And before that to see what happens when we invade France?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Mariette made a dramatic sigh, and then laughed. ‘It would be a bit rude to push off just as all these soldiers are flocking down to the coast. There are Yanks on every street corner. Shame I’m not up for jitterbugging, I’m told it’s wild at the dance halls on Saturday nights. But how’s the walking looking? Better than when you last saw me?’

  ‘Very much better,’ he said. ‘You are still swinging it a little too much, but practice will sort that out. The main thing is that you aren’t hesitant, and that is very good. But back to the dance halls – I don’t see you falling for some wet-behind-the-ears Yank. Not even if half the girls in England are going that way. My money is on you and Morgan.’

  Mariette was astounded that the doctor was aware of something between her and Morgan. Everyone else thought it was nothing but friendship. But Morgan did still make her heart flutter, and she was fairly certain she did the same to him. But although he’d made the journey to come and see her almost every week since she’d been here, he’d never admitted any feelings for her. He had never even tried to kiss her.

  Dr Hambling guessed what Mariette was thinking, and sympathized with her inability to move things on with Morgan.

  ‘Unfortunately, Morgan has the same problem as many of the patients here that we’ve tried to help,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen a photograph of him as he was, and I can perfectly well understand why a man who was once so handsome would imagine he had nothing to offer a woman now he has lost those looks. He’s wrong, of course, we both know that. You, Mariette, aren’t a different person because of your leg. And he is no different because his face was burned. But getting patients to understand that isn’t easy.’

  ‘But it’s also about how others see us too,’ Mariette said. ‘In the past, when I walked down a street, I’d get men turning their heads to look at me. Now, when they see my limp, their expression changes, they drop their eyes. That’s how it is for Morgan too. Women used to stop in their tracks to look at him, but now they avoid looking directly at him.’

  ‘But you don’t avoid looking at him,’ Dr Hambling said pointedly. ‘I’ve seen you with him, you retain eye contact all the time. And he looks at you as you walk away, as if he is afraid he’ll never see you again. I’d say you two have something good to build on.’

  ‘There won’t be any opportunity to build on anything, once I’m back in Sidmouth,’ she said. ‘And if the invasion does go ahead, the Borough will be run off its feet with wounded, and he’ll never have the time to come visiting.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should go back to the Borough?’ The doctor smiled mischievously. ‘I seem to remember you told me you had secretarial training? The Borough might very well need someone in administration.’

  Mariette’s eyes lit up. ‘Do you think they’d take me on?’ she exclaimed. ‘Am I able to do a job like that now?’

  ‘Yes, I think they’d take you on, if I have a word in the right ear. As for whether you are able to do it, well, only you can answer that. Physically you are able – you know now how long you can walk with the leg, and which things you still find difficult – but secretarial work is mainly sitting down. Far more suitable than working behind a bar. So I think you’ll be fine.’

  ‘Won’t Morgan think I’m chasing him?’

  Dr Hambling threw ba
ck his head and laughed. ‘Oh, Mariette, no man on earth would mind someone like you chasing him! I think Morgan will be overjoyed. Chase him, and kiss him once you’ve caught him, and I’m sure he’ll be yours for life.’

  Mariette remembered how she had shamelessly pursued Morgan on the ship. ‘I used to be so sure of myself, when I was younger,’ she said, looking very pensive. ‘I never had a moment’s doubt about anything really. Now I have doubts about almost everything.’

  ‘That’s part of growing up,’ Dr Hambling assured her. ‘Nothing to do with your leg, the war, or anything around you. As we become adults, we learn to be cautious. But that isn’t to say we can’t take risks, especially when the odds are all in our favour. Off with you now, and next time Morgan visits tell him you want to stay close to him.’

  Mariette smiled and began to walk towards the door. ‘I shall miss you, when I leave here,’ she said, turning towards the doctor before opening the door. ‘But I’ll let you know how it works out.’

  ‘You haven’t seen the last of me yet, my dear,’ he said. ‘I’ll be seeing you again, before you leave. And I’ll need to see you every two months after that.’

  ‘You are coming to the Borough to work?’ Morgan said incredulously. ‘I thought you’d be on the first train back to Sidmouth when you left here. Why the Borough?’

  Mariette took a deep breath. ‘Because you are there,’ she said.

  It was a warm day in May, and when Morgan arrived to visit her she’d suggested they sit in the garden of Stanford House to make the most of the sunshine. She’d received a parcel from home just that morning, containing a pair of cream-coloured linen slacks and a very pretty pale green blouse with ruffles down the front. Mog had made them, of course. As always, she seemed to know exactly what Mariette needed. She had put them on immediately and, with her legs covered, she felt ready for anything.

  ‘You must know that I can’t live without you?’ she went on. ‘Now, just tell me you only feel sorry for me, and nothing more, and I’ll bugger off to Sidmouth.’

  He hung his head. ‘You know it isn’t that,’ he said in a small voice. ‘I want to be near you too, but I can’t be the man you need.’

  ‘Allow me to know what I need. And it’s you,’ she said firmly.

  He looked up, and there was such desolation in his dark eyes. ‘You don’t understand –’ He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. ‘I can’t even tell you,’ he said eventually.

  ‘Tell me what? I know you feel the same about me,’ she said. ‘So you’ve got a scarred face and I’ve got a missing leg. That makes us an odd couple, but it means we’ll always have something to talk about, even if it is only who gave us a funny look that day.’ She moved forward, put a hand on either side of his face, then stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips.

  He responded immediately. His arms went around her, and his tongue flickered into her mouth. Mariette leaned in closer, just the feel of his firm body against hers making her nipples harden.

  Morgan broke away first.

  ‘I have to tell you,’ he said, and his face was contorted as if in pain. ‘I can’t do anything any more. It disappeared at the time I was burned.’

  Mariette sensed that admitting this was the hardest thing for him to do. She hesitated in replying, in case she made him feel worse. ‘OK, do you mean you don’t get hard any more?’

  He nodded, and turned his face away to hide his embarrassment.

  She took his hand and led him over to a bench by a bed of tulips. ‘Have you told a doctor this?’ she asked after a few minutes of just sitting there holding his hand.

  ‘I did once, and he said it would come back in time. But it hasn’t.’

  There was a tragic irony in that the man who had shown her how much pleasure she could have from sex should be telling her it didn’t work for him any more.

  ‘When we were kissing, how was that?’ she asked.

  ‘Lovely, because it was you. But it didn’t trigger anything.’

  ‘But it was just a kiss in the garden. Don’t you think if we were in a comfy place, all alone, that would be a better test?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ he said.

  Mariette turned to him. ‘You are always pushing me to do this or that. What you’ve achieved since your accident is utterly inspiring, so I find it very sad that you have allowed yourself to believe this problem can’t be overcome.’

  ‘Forget it now,’ he said sharply. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  Mariette got up from the bench. ‘I can’t make you talk about it, to me or a doctor. But you know as well as I do, a burned face couldn’t destroy any man’s sex drive. It’s all in your head, and if it was you who put that idea in there because you didn’t believe any woman would want a scarred man, then you can remove that idea too.’

  ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘God knows, I’ve tried.’

  ‘Then we’ll try together,’ she said stubbornly. ‘If I can rise above being scared of exposing my stump to you, I see no reason why you can’t rise to the challenge.’

  She giggled then, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Morgan laughed too, and soon both of them were hugging and laughing, more from the relief of getting an awkward subject out of the way than because it was truly funny.

  ‘So are you glad I’m coming to the Borough?’ Mariette asked a little later.

  ‘You haven’t said what you are going to be doing there,’ he said with a grin. ‘If it’s just to check up on me, I might not be so pleased.’

  ‘Administrative work,’ she said. ‘Typing up requisition lists, writing letters, that sort of stuff. But as Dr Hambling told them I was very good at listening to people’s problems here and helping to find solutions, I will also be working with the almoner.’

  ‘Good luck with that one!’ Morgan raised one eyebrow. ‘Miss Wainwright is a real fire-eating dragon. I don’t think she actually listens to anyone with problems, she just shouts them down.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll be able to tame her,’ Mariette said.

  ‘If anyone could, it would be you,’ he said. ‘Have they found you some accommodation?’

  She nodded. ‘I’ve got a room in the nurses’ home. Mr Mercer apparently suggested that. I’ve been lucky that I had him and Dr Hambling on my side.’

  ‘How about Sybil and Ted? Are they disappointed you aren’t going back to them?’

  Mariette pulled a face. ‘I don’t think Sybil approves at all. I think she’d like to baby me and display me as her private war trophy. But I don’t want that, and I want to be near you.’

  ‘We won’t see much of one another when the invasion begins,’ Morgan said. ‘I’m hoping there won’t be as many wounded as there were at Dunkirk, but it could possibly be worse.’

  34

  It was a general assumption that the Allies were going to invade France during the late spring or early summer of 1944 because of the vast numbers of troops arriving all along the south coast, but especially in Portsmouth and Southampton. Mariette never went into the centre of Southampton, but she often heard the nurses talking excitedly about the sheer numbers of American soldiers there, and arranging to go to dances to meet some of them.

  As spring turned to summer, there was a palpable buzz of expectation as people thought the invasion was imminent. But no one knew anything for sure – not the date it would start, or which part of France would be targeted. Around the start of June, a rumour flew around that it was going to be through the Pas-de-Calais. But that turned out to be false information, leaked so that the German generals would send the bulk of their troops there to defend it.

  Yet it was obvious that the invasion was about to start when people reported 2,000 naval ships lying in the English Channel, barrage balloons flying to protect shipping from enemy fighter planes, and countless minesweepers clearing enemy mines. On 5th June, hundreds of Allied bombers roared off overhead, and the muffled sound of heavy bombing could be heard coming from the coastal towns in France.

&nbs
p; Everyone had theories, and many claimed to be ‘in the know’, but it was generally thought the invasion must take place on 6th June. There would be a full moon that night and a very high tide on the beaches of Normandy, which would get the boats over the traps the Germans had set on the beaches to rip out the bottom of any landing craft.

  At all the hospitals along the south coast, nurses, doctors and other staff were poised for the inevitable casualties. At the Borough as many wards as possible had been cleared in readiness, though the bulk of the wounded would go to Netley Military Hospital, which had been taken over by the Americans.

  Morgan had passed his final nursing exam with distinction, and doctors at the Netley had asked for him to be sent over there to help them. They felt he had special abilities; he had been a soldier himself, severely wounded, and he was known to be extraordinarily knowledgeable about battle wounds. Although Mariette was very glad his talents were being recognized, it was ironic that he was to be whisked away from her just as she had got close to him and was seeing him every day.

  But she had more than enough work to keep her busy, taking dictation from senior personnel and typing out their letters and notes. So far Miss Wainwright hadn’t allowed her to talk to any of the patients who came to the almoner’s office with problems or questions. All she would let Mariette do was type up reports and file them. Morgan had been right about her: she was a dragon, rude to patients, insensitive to their problems and very high-handed. But then, she was going on for sixty, and she’d been at the Borough for eighteen years so had made the job her own.

  Despite Miss Wainwright, Mariette loved her new job. It wasn’t difficult, and after being so bored for so long it was a pleasure to be busy and needed. She already knew a few of the nursing staff from when she’d been a patient at the hospital, and she soon made new friends too. She didn’t feel like a freak either. Perhaps it was because the staff in a hospital were used to seeing all kinds of injuries and disabilities, but they didn’t stare or, even worse, avoid eye contact. She was often asked how she’d lost her leg and how she felt about her prosthetic limb, and she found she preferred openness to awkward silence.