The Soldier's Return

by Rose Meddon

  Beside her, Naomi gasped, while, before her own eyes, the ink-stand on the doctor’s desk seemed momentarily to blur. Discreetly, she pressed her hands onto her lap. She mustn’t get all teary. And she definitely mustn’t faint.

  ‘Then, what a narrow escape,’ Naomi murmured.

  ‘For several reasons,’ the doctor agreed.

  Shifting her weight, Naomi went on, ‘But, as it turns out, both of his legs are still – forgive me, Doctor, I have no idea of the correct medical terms – are still intact?’

  As though caught in a draft, Kate shivered. These were things she would rather not have to hear. But what choice did she have? She was there to support Naomi.

  ‘They are… yes.’ But? From his tone, Kate could tell that the doctor was wary. ‘But, as one would expect,’ he went on, ‘the impact of landing in such a manner caused multiple fractures, to both femurs – his thigh bones – as well as to the tibiae and fibulae – the two bones below each knee.’ Seeing Naomi shifting yet again, she reached out a hand and brought it to rest on her lap. This was as harrowing to hear as she had feared. ‘Now, the latest method for treating fractures to the femur is a device called the Thomas Splint, which, in layman’s terms, consists of metal rods, fastened about the patient’s hips and applied so as to allow for the limb to be put into traction. Although a relatively simple device, its application requires the utmost accuracy. In unskilled hands, the bones stand little chance of being properly aligned once healed—’

  ‘But they will heal?’ Naomi interrupted the doctor’s explanation to ask.

  In response, Dr Chilton raised a hand. ‘I feel it only fair to explain to you, Mrs Colborne, that medical opinion is divided – divided, that is, over whether this particular form of traction is appropriate for fractures of the bones to the lower leg, or solely to that of the thigh. However, in Lieutenant Russell’s case, and with the assistance of X-ray photographs, it was the surgeon’s opinion that the use of traction was appropriate. The healing of the femur being more critical than the risk of delayed bone-setting in the lower legs. Better, if you will,’ he said more carefully, ‘than loss of use of the legs in their entirety.’

  Feeling tears welling, Kate blinked several times. What, precisely, did all of that mean? To her, it was just a string of words that didn’t even seem to answer Naomi’s question.

  And Naomi seemed of the same mind. ‘So, does that mean… that he will be able to walk again?’ From the sound of her voice, she, too, was on the point of tears.

  ‘Mrs Colborne, while one would wish nothing more than to answer you in the affirmative, I am not a man to sow seeds of false hope. So, if one were to strip out all optimism and deal only in facts, then my answer would be that, at this stage, I simply cannot say. I do concur with Dr…’ At this point, he peered down at the papers on his desk. ‘Dr Kenwood’s assessment of the risk, and also with his subsequent decision to place Lieutenant Russell’s legs in traction. In addition, your brother has the benefit of being young, and otherwise fit and healthy. Thus, since you press me for an opinion, I would say there appears to be every chance that the fractures to his femurs will knit perfectly well. Will that be to the detriment of his lower limbs? That is something we will not know for a good while yet – possibly for as long as another four or five months.’

  ‘Four or five months. I see,’ Naomi responded.

  Four or five months, Kate reflected. And, if she understood correctly, that was only until they knew whether he would heal – not until he would be up and about again, and back to normal. Normal. Was that even going to be possible?

  ‘But even with the most favourable of outcomes,’ Dr Chilton was continuing, ‘I doubt your brother will walk as freely as he did previously. At best, I imagine he will suffer a limp and will require the use of a stick.’

  Dear, brave Ned – with all of his life still ahead of him – now seemed destined to walk like an old man. Or a cripple. But she would not cry. No matter how unfair it was, she would not cry.

  Drawing a long breath instead, she looked back up. Beside her, Naomi had further questions.

  ‘I see. So, what happens next?’

  ‘Well, in front of me I have a request for the patient to be transferred to the RFC hospital at Bryanston Square. I’m given to believe it’s close to the family home.’

  Both women nodded.

  ‘It is, yes.’

  ‘Then subject to there being a bed available, and to suitable arrangements being made for his conveyance, it is a request I would be inclined to authorize.’

  Inclined. Presumably that meant yes. Uncertainly, Kate looked to Naomi.

  ‘Thank you, Dr Chilton.’ The relief in Naomi’s tone was reassuring. ‘It will be a weight from my mind to have him close by.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be. And perhaps, in three or four weeks, he will be well enough to undertake the journey.’

  ‘Three or four weeks.’

  ‘Mrs Colborne, one would not wish to set back his recovery unnecessarily.’

  ‘No, no of course not,’ Naomi quickly conceded. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Now, I learn from Matron that you have travelled this morning from London.’

  Again, Naomi nodded. ‘We have, yes.’

  ‘In which case, may I invite you to stay and take luncheon with us? It won’t be haute cuisine, but, by dining here with us, you will be able to sit with your brother again before you must leave to commence your journey home.’

  ‘Thank you for the most considerate invitation,’ Naomi said. ‘We gratefully accept.’

  ‘Yes,’ Kate echoed Naomi’s reply. ‘Most kind of you. Thank you.’

  Feeling the stiffness slowly leaving her shoulders, Kate allowed herself a little sigh. At least they now knew the worst. Seemingly, the next few weeks were going to be tough on all of them, but at least they could see that Ned was in good hands. And, given what had happened to him, that had to be about the best for which either of them could reasonably hope.

  Chapter Two

  The Patient

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to come with me.’

  Alighting from a cab onto the pavement outside of Queen Alexandra’s Hospital, Kate could tell from Naomi’s face that, despite being nervous, she was also relieved. And she could see why: the appearance of the building alone – a vast four-storey red brick edifice with ornate gables and an elaborate portico for an entrance – immediately instilled confidence. Ned would be all right here – she could tell.

  ‘I wouldn’t have let you come on your own,’ she acknowledged Naomi’s remark, watching as she fished about in her purse for the coins to pay their fare.

  ‘Well, thank you anyway. I did feel terribly mean telling Mamma that Ned wasn’t arriving for another couple of days but, had I not done so, she would have been here waiting for his ambulance to draw up at the kerb, demanding to be allowed to see him forthwith. And that wouldn’t have been fair on either him or the nursing staff.’

  All too aware of Pamela Russell’s impatience, and her habit of finding fault with just about everything, she could see Naomi’s point. It did seem sensible for the two of them to come here first. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You’re not wrong there.’

  ‘At the very least, one imagines the journey must have made him weary – certainly too weary for him to want to face endless questions from Mamma.’

  ‘Yes. Whereas this way, once you’ve seen him, you will be able to allay her fears.’

  ‘I will,’ Naomi agreed. ‘I shall also be able to gauge whether the hospital as a whole is up to a visit from her. It must surely be in everyone’s interests not to have Mamma waltzing in and criticising everything before Ned has even had the chance to get settled!’

  It was now more than three weeks since the two women had first travelled to Dover to visit Ned, during which time, and in the absence of any word from Cousin Elizabeth, Naomi had grown steadily more and more impatient to hear from her. Then, finally, a couple of mornings ago, the postman had brought a letter to s
ay that Ned was being transferred to the Queen Alexandra Military Hospital in Millbank. Initially, Naomi had been put out, complaining that Ned was supposed to be going into the RFC, where the doctors were specialists in the types of injuries suffered by pilots.

  Specialists or no, Kate’s own reaction had been that at least he would be nearby, which, surely, had to count for something. ‘For certain this other place will be just as good,’ she had remarked. ‘And just think how much easier it will be for you to visit him there – every day, should you be so inclined.’

  To an extent, the realization had seemed to mollify Naomi. ‘Yes, of course,’ she had gone on to agree. ‘I’m sure his care will be perfectly acceptable.’

  And, now that they were here, Naomi seemed happier still.

  For her own part, Kate was just glad that Ned would now be close by. Had it been Luke who had been brought home injured, she knew she would have wanted him as close as possible, in whatever hospital could find a bed for him. Fortunately, she reminded herself, it wasn’t Luke. Unfortunately, he was still far away in a foreign land. And oh, how desperately she longed for him not to be. How sorely she missed him!

  Unsurprised to feel tears welling – these days, the least thing seemed to set her off – she straightened up and blinked them away. She would not feel sorry for herself. Women everywhere had the same worries – some, far worse. Moreover, since her first day of volunteering at St. Ursula’s, she had learned to be grateful for small mercies: better that Luke be far away and safe, than back at home and – dare she even think it – facing the prospect of spending the rest of his life as a cripple like dear Ned might yet have to.

  Their cab fare settled, they made their way across the pavement to the entrance, the door held wide for them by a liveried concierge.

  ‘I must say, it all looks quite new,’ Naomi remarked as they went inside.

  It was true: the place looked modern and shiny and clean and, for a moment, Kate stood glancing about the vast marble-floored foyer, taking it all in, her eyes eventually coming to rest upon a noticeboard on the wall. On it were the names of the wards and their corresponding floors. When she went to scan the list, though, none of the names looked familiar. ‘Where did you say he is?’ she turned to Naomi to check.

  ‘C Ward.’

  She scanned the list a second time. Alexandra Ward, Victoria Ward… Edward… She read all the way down to the bottom. ‘I don’t see it here.’

  ‘Neither do I. Most peculiar. Well, look, that sign over there says Visitors, and it’s pointing up that staircase. So, let’s go up, shall we? We can always find someone to ask once we’re up there.’

  Thinking Naomi’s suggestion sensible, she nodded her agreement. ‘All right.’

  Ascending the curving staircase, the clicking of their heels on the marble tiles echoing around the stairwell, they arrived at a broad galleried landing, from which a corridor led away in both directions. Spotting a nurse further along, Naomi headed towards her. In the meantime, peering in through a nearby doorway, Kate found herself looking into a spacious ward. Unnoticed by anyone, she pushed the door wider, quickly counting sixteen beds – eight against each of the long walls. Flooded with light from a half-dozen tall sash windows, and with a high ceiling hung with two fans, the room felt calm and airy and cool.

  ‘Apparently, we’re in the wrong building.’ Coming towards her, Naomi had a frown on her face. ‘Wards A to C are in the annexe, which, I am informed, is located on Manston Street.’

  ‘Far from here?’

  ‘Immediately next door, apparently.’

  Together, they turned for the staircase.

  ‘It seems a nice place,’ she commented, following Naomi down. ‘That ward was very bright. Peaceful, too.’

  ‘Yes, I will admit to being impressed.’

  ‘Perhaps not as cosy as Mount Eden.’

  ‘Perhaps not, no, but rather more modern and fit for purpose.’

  ‘Yes.’ Yes, she reflected, Ned would be well looked after here, on that score they need have no concerns.

  Back outside, and with the clouds overhead threatening rain, they turned left and walked briskly along the front of the hospital. At the corner, a sign on the wall of a narrow alleyway proclaimed, Manston Street, followed underneath by the words, No Thoroughfare. Apparently thinking the same thing, they both drew to a halt.

  ‘Oh.’

  Sharing Naomi’s dismay at the sight before them, Kate nevertheless determined not to become disheartened. Yes, the buildings looked distinctly older and less well-kept than where they had just been. But that was no cause for alarm. Inside, the wards were bound to be just as orderly and calm.

  ‘Do you know which building it is?’ she asked – not that any one of the facades looked more inviting than the next. Deliberately not turning to Naomi for her reply, she instead cast her eyes to where, not much further along, the street came to an abrupt end at a blank brick wall, several storeys high.

  ‘First entrance on the right, those were the nurse’s instructions.’

  Her heart sank. Of all the buildings, the first one looked to be in the worst repair of all. Even so, she still wouldn’t worry. It would be just fine.

  Arriving at the entrance in question she pushed open the door but, once inside, stopped dead. She was standing in a square vestibule where the light was dim, the décor well-worn, and the air thick with the smell of carbolic. At least it spoke to a certain level of hygiene, she found herself thinking.

  Hearing Naomi follow her in, she stood glancing about. In the wall to their right was a hatch, through which she could see a porter, his dark jacket hanging unbuttoned and his tie loose about his neck.

  In that same instant noticing her presence, he leapt to his feet, stubbed out a cigarette in the saucer of a green pottery cup, and set about re-buttoning his uniform. ‘My apologies, ma’am,’ he mumbled as he approached the hatch. ‘You’ve caught me on me tea break.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry for that,’ she replied, sensing that her own embarrassment was greater than his, ‘but we’ve come to visit Lieutenant Russell in Ward C.’

  ‘Third floor,’ he said, gesturing with his head beyond the next pair of doors. ‘You’ll find Sister Morgan on duty up there.’

  Having thanked the man in the tiny office, she turned back to Naomi. She looked distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Third floor.’

  ‘Yes. I heard.’

  ‘You know, it might be better upstairs,’ Kate said quietly, holding open the next door and trying not to look too closely at the curls of grey paint peeling from its surface. After the reassuring grandeur of the building around the corner, this wasn’t at all what she had been expecting.

  ‘Well, one way or another,’ Naomi replied, ‘we are about to find out.’

  Having climbed two sets of steep and creaking stairs, they paused on a small landing for breath – not that it did any good; this far from the door to the street the air was a good deal warmer and danker, and not something she felt inclined to inhale too deeply.

  A floor further up, where a small window on the landing appeared to no longer fit snugly into its frame, the odour seeping through the resulting crack made her think of cabbage cooking.

  ‘We must be above the kitchen,’ she said.

  ‘Vile,’ Naomi replied, shielding her nose with her hand.

  From this last small landing, a narrower staircase led on up to what she guessed were rooms in the attic. Of the only two doors on this level, one bore a notice proclaiming, Nursing Staff Only. To the other, someone had inexpertly nailed a wrought-iron letter C, such that it hung, askew, its attitude that of a crescent moon.

  Drawing a breath, she reached to turn the handle but then, thinking better of it, raised her hand and knocked – after all, who knew what might be happening on the other side?

  From beyond it, footsteps approached. Then the latch clicked, and the door creaked open.

  ‘Yes?’

  At the sight of a tall and wiry nurse, Naomi stepped forward.
‘Good afternoon. We have come to visit our brother, Lieutenant Edwin Russell. We have been informed that he is in this ward.’

  The nurse stood aside. ‘End bed. Though you’ve left it late, I must say. You’ve just fifteen minutes until the end of visiting. The hours are plain enough, and I make no exceptions.’

  Not wanting to get off on the wrong foot with such a stern-looking woman, Kate forced a smile. ‘We understand.’

  ‘And keep the noise down. My other patients need peace and quiet.’

  ‘Of course,’ she acknowledged the sister’s instruction. But honestly! Did this sour-looking woman truly think they looked raucously inclined – the sort of women to come in and cause trouble?

  Naomi, meanwhile, was heading straight across the room – floorboards squeaking under her weight – to the farthest of just four beds.

  ‘Oh, my dear Ned,’ she heard her greet him, and then saw her bend to kiss his cheek.

  Deliberately, she held back. Might it be better to wait outside? Space did look rather cramped and it would allow Naomi and Ned to talk more freely. On the other hand, she didn’t want to appear uninterested in his well-being – or even unsupportive of Naomi.

  She glanced in turn to the patients in each of the other three beds. Only one of them had a visitor – by the look of it his wife, her head bent as though to conceal that she was weeping. The patient, bandaged heavily about his head, appeared to be asleep – although he could just as easily have been unconscious.

  Turning away, she decided that she would go and sit with Ned. And so, looking about, she lifted a chair from the foot of one of the other beds and carried it towards him.

  ‘Kate,’ he greeted her with a smile.

  She smiled back. ‘Hello.’

  ‘You look well.’

  ‘And you look… better than when we saw you in Dover.’