Amy

by Peggy Savage

  ‘Don’t,’ Helen whispered. ‘You’ll set me off. You’ve always been the strong one.’

  Amy smiled briefly, a humourless smile. ‘And you. I’m glad you’re here, Helen.’

  Helen clasped her hand. ‘If you want to have a good cry, wait till we get back to our room. Goodness knows, I’ve cried all over you often enough.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Amy held back her tears. ‘I’m all right now.’

  They went up the marble staircase to their room and both lay down on their beds to rest before the afternoon work. Amy lay, staring at the ceiling. She wondered how much her feeling about him was simply due to the fact that at this one time she had been back handling the familiar instruments, stemming Johnny’s blood loss, doing her job. Perhaps her interest in him was just part of the joy of being in theatre again, and he had been the man who happened to be there. They had been there together. Perhaps it had all become mixed up in her mind. Or was she trying not to admit what she really was feeling? Any kind of feeling for him was utterly pointless. He would go, one way or the other. He would get better and go home to convalesce and then he would go back to the trenches. Or he would die, here and now. Either way she would never see him again.

  She visited the officers’ ward again the next morning.

  ‘He’s still fighting.’ Sister actually seemed pleased to see her. ‘Perhaps you can help him, Amy. He’s barely conscious most of the time. We’re having quite a job getting fluids into him. If he knows you he might respond to you.’

  When she went behind he screens he was lying so still that for a dreadful moment she thought that he was dead. Then he began the restless muttering and twitching. ‘Johnny,’ she said. She took his hand. ‘Johnny.’

  His muttering stopped suddenly and he opened his eyes and looked at her. Slowly his eyes focused on her, as if he were coming back from a great distance.

  ‘Amy,’ he whispered. His eyelids fluttered. ‘Water.’

  ‘Johnny,’ she said again. ‘I’ll get help.’ She called Sister and between them they propped him up and he drank, too weak to stop the water dribbling down his chin.

  They lay him down on the pillows. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered, and then his eyes closed again.

  They went back to Sister’s desk. ‘You could come back tomorrow, Amy,’ Sister said. ‘He seems to respond to you. If we can just get him to take more fluids, and perhaps some nourishment, he might have a chance.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I’ll come back.’ She left the ward. Did he have a chance? She desperately, fiercely, wanted him to live. She felt that his life would somehow be a fist shaken against fate, a gesture of defiance in the face of overwhelming odds.

  ‘How is he?’ Helen said.

  ‘He knew me today. But I don’t know. He’s still very ill.’

  Helen said nothing more, but Amy could see the concern in her eyes.

  The next day he knew her at once. He even managed a weak smile. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Come to save my life again?’

  ‘It’s not me this time,’ she smiled down at him. ‘The doctors and nurses have saved your life this time, and I suppose you might have had something to do with it. There’s such a thing as the will to live.’

  ‘The Hun can’t get me,’ he said. ‘Their aim isn’t good enough.’

  It wasn’t the Hun this time, she thought. It was the bacteria, the staphylococci and streptococci or whatever organism had taken over his body, those tiny creatures that left them helpless, almost hopeless. It all depended on the patient, on his ability to resist the infection, to fight those invisible killers. Things were changing, but so slowly. They had a vaccine now against typhoid, and an anti-toxin was coming against tetanus, but there was nothing that would kill the deadly bacteria. The advances were coming too slowly to help these men, just when they needed it most.

  She went to see him every day. Slowly, day by day, he seemed to be getting better. His temperature was erratic, but was coming down and he was drinking and taking soup. Even Sister made no comment now when she went to see him; she even smiled at her.

  At last, she could be sure. He wasn’t going to die. As he got better and it seemed that he would live, her concern for him increased again. But now it was a different concern. One day he would probably be well enough to go back to his regiment, back to that hell. All that effort to save him, all his strength and spirit, and what for? So that he would have to risk it all again? It was not fair. He should not have to go back. There was no justice.

  Amy was sitting in their room reading Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time. Jane Austen was almost like a drug, soothing and calming. For a short time she could escape into a world of elegance and pleasant, easy living. Those had not been the best of times, perhaps, for intelligent women, but Jane Austen seemed to have beaten the restrictions. And the best thing about her writing was that she was very funny. Anything that could make you laugh was precious.

  Helen poked her head around the door. ‘Your captain’s here,’ she said. ‘He’s downstairs in the hall.’ She bounced into the room and sat down on her bed.

  Amy put down her book. She was surprised; she had not really expected Dan Fielding to come back, or at least, not to contact her if he did. She had almost forgotten about it. Promises were not promises in a war. ‘Are you sure it’s him?’ she asked. ‘The place is full of soldiers.’

  ‘Absolutely. He was talking to Dr Hanfield and then I heard him ask if he could speak to you.’ She was smiling broadly. ‘Do go and see him, Amy. We might get that dinner out.’

  ‘Well I can hardly go down there and drift about until he notices me, can I? If he really wants to speak to me they will send someone up.’

  Almost at once there was a knock at the door. Helen laughed. ‘There you are then.’

  Amy opened the door to one of the ward maids. ‘There’s a soldier downstairs,’ she said. ‘He says he wants to speak to you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Amy said, and closed the door. She sighed. ‘Oh dear, I expect it’ll be all over the hospital in five minutes. I suppose I’d better go down and see him.’

  ‘Oh yes, do.’ Helen’s eyes were dancing. ‘And if he asks you, say yes.’

  Amy brushed her hair into place and put on her jacket. ‘Don’t get too excited. Matron might very well say that we can’t go.’

  Helen sighed. ‘I don’t know why we have to be treated like children. Surely if we’re responsible enough to do all this they could trust us to go out in the evening now and again.’

  Amy could only agree, but she could see the reason for it, under the circumstances. ‘I suppose it’s the war. Even if they’ve partially lifted the curfew I suppose Paris isn’t as safe at night as it used to be. There are a lot of odd characters about.’

  ‘But we wouldn’t be alone. We’d have two British officers with us.’

  Amy smiled at Helen’s frowning face. ‘It would be just the same at home, wouldn’t it? Ladies don’t go out with men unless they have a chaperon. Your mother would be scandalized.’

  ‘It’s such nonsense,’ Helen said, still annoyed. ‘What on earth do they think we are going to do? Run amok? It ought to be changed. It’s just another thing that men can do and women can’t.’

  ‘After the war, Helen. Perhaps things will be different then.’

  Dan Fielding was standing in the hall, looking towards the stairs. He looked thinner, she thought, leaner, the planes of his face sharper, his eyes dark and brooding. He saw her and walked towards her, smiling. ‘Miss Osborne,’ he said.

  ‘Captain Fielding.’

  ‘I’ve come back,’ he said, ‘as you see. It’s good to see you again.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m very glad to see that you are well.’

  ‘And you. Last time I saw you, you were a little – overworked, shall I say?’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, I was a bit dishevelled.’

  ‘You were doing a wonderful job, as I recall. The dishevelment was truly honourable.’

  She didn’t re
ply at once. His look was warm, and she noticed that the tips of his ears had gone pink again. She remembered that now. It must mean that he was a bit unsure, a bit embarrassed, perhaps. They would always give him away. ‘Have you come to report on the hospital again?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but I wonder if you remember that I asked you if you might come out to dine with me, with a friend, of course.’ She hesitated, and he went on hurriedly, ‘Of course, if it’s inconvenient….’

  She could almost feel Helen poking her in the ribs. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s not inconvenient, but it rather depends on Matron.’

  ‘I know, but if you would like to come I’ll try to speak to her today or tomorrow. Is she a dragon?’

  Amy laughed. ‘No, not really, but she is rather a stickler for appearances. Any disrepute to the hospital and it would be instant dismissal. If she says no, I’m afraid it’s no.’

  ‘I’m really not that disreputable,’ he said with mock seriousness. ‘I’m quite well behaved. What day would suit you?’

  ‘Helen and I are free in the evening on Friday,’ she said. ‘Where were you thinking of taking us?’

  ‘Some of the hotels are still functioning. One of them has a good restaurant, I believe, despite the shortages, but I’m not sure about dancing.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter. I don’t think I can remember how to dance, but it would be nice to go to a restaurant again.’

  ‘Fine. If we can go I shall be bringing a friend, Peter Turner. He’s another doctor in the RAMC. He’s quite well behaved, too.’

  Amy laughed again. ‘I’m glad to hear it. I’ll hear from you after you’ve seen Matron, then.’

  ‘Yes.’ He held out his hand and she took it briefly. ‘Au revoir then – Amy. I hope to see you on Friday.’

  She walked back up the stairs. At the top she turned and looked back. He was still standing at the foot, and he waved to her before turning away.

  ‘Well?’ Helen was sitting where she had left her, obviously waiting. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He still wants to go. He’s going to ask Matron.’

  Helen pouted. ‘I bet she says no.’

  ‘We’ll just have to wait and see.’

  ‘What’s he like, Amy? Is he nice? He’s quite good-looking.’

  Amy laughed. ‘I don’t think that’s anything to go by. Yes, he seems nice, quiet and sensible.’

  ‘So we won’t be having a night of wild excitement.’

  ‘I sincerely hope not.’

  Helen opened her wardrobe. ‘I’ve no idea what to wear. I haven’t brought anything.’

  ‘I’ve got a tea dress,’ Amy said. ‘That will have to do. Surely none of the hotels will insist on evening dress in the present circumstances. I don’t suppose we can go in uniform.’

  ‘Certainly not. We’ll have to go shopping. Some of the shops are open again.’ She got up and looked at herself in the long mirror. ‘Won’t it be lovely to wear a dress again.’

  Amy went to visit Johnny again the next day, and he was definitely better, definitely gaining strength, and his temperature was nearly down to normal. He sat up in his bed as he saw her.

  ‘Sit down and talk to me, Amy,’ he said. She drew up a chair and sat beside him.

  ‘I’ve had a letter from my mother,’ he said. ‘Apparently my father is coming to take me home. I can be looked after there until I am well enough to go back to the war.’ He said it quite cheerfully, as if it didn’t matter.

  ‘I’m glad you’re going home,’ she said.

  ‘Are you?’ He looked at her with a half smile. ‘Won’t you miss me?’

  ‘Of course.’ It’s just banter, she thought, just a bit more of the joking that went on with the men.

  ‘Where do you live, Amy, at home?’

  His question surprised her. It was more personal than she had expected. ‘I live in Bromley,’ she said.

  ‘With your parents?’

  ‘With my father. My mother is dead. She died when I was a child.’ He seemed to be waiting for more. ‘My father is a teacher, at a local boys’ school.’

  ‘I see.’ He was looking at her closely, not smiling, not joking. ‘I live at home too, in Berkshire. I’m lucky enough to have both my parents. My father looks after the estate with my elder brother.’

  ‘Isn’t he in the army too?’

  ‘No. He’s in a reserved occupation. He looks after the farms. It’s very difficult at the moment, apparently. Many of the men have gone. They’ve even got some women working on the farms, doing quite heavy work, I’m told.’

  She smiled. ‘It’s amazing, isn’t it, what woman can do when they’re allowed?’

  ‘Touché,’ he said. ‘I’ve already apologized for what I said about the surgeons. I couldn’t have been looked after better anywhere.’

  ‘It must be a lovely place to go home to.’ She was careful not to say that she already knew where he lived.

  ‘It is,’ he said, animated now. ‘A real piece of old England. Worth fighting for. Do you hunt, Amy?’

  She shook her head. ‘Oh no. We could never afford that sort of thing. Anyway, I’d always feel sorry for the poor fox.’

  He laughed. ‘It’s great sport,’ he said. ‘The best, and foxes are vermin. But there’s better hunting now.’

  She raised her eyebrows in question.

  ‘Huns,’ he said. ‘Big game. I’d rather hunt the Hun than the fox. Far more fun.’

  She thought of the men in the trenches. ‘It isn’t fun, Lieutenant Maddox,’ she said. She used his title, her voice rising in distress. ‘How can you say that? You’ve been through it, you know what it’s like, and you’re going to have to go back….’

  ‘It’s the only way to look at it, Amy,’ he said. ‘And won’t you please call me Johnny? Make it a game, a challenge. It’s the only way to get through.’

  She said nothing, bent her head so that he wouldn’t see her distress.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I may not go back into the army. I’m going to apply for the Flying Corps. I shall hunt them in aeroplanes. That would be more my kind of thing.’

  I can believe it, she thought. That would be more like him, to have his own flying machine, to be facing danger with no one to help him, testing himself, facing that peril alone. He’s a bit wild, she thought. He likes danger; he courts it. She also knew what was happening, that most of the pilots lasted about a month. Young Frensham!

  ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Do you think they will take you?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure they will,’ he said. ‘They want more pilots.’ Amy suppressed a shudder. It was obvious why they wanted more pilots. ‘And my father knows a few people.’

  Sir Henry Maddox, she thought. She could imagine that he might know a few people. ‘When is your father coming?’

  ‘He’s on his way now.’

  ‘I see,’ she said again. ‘So I will be saying goodbye to you soon. Take care of yourself.’

  He laughed and took her hand. She looked down at his hand, enclosing hers. It was the first time that he had ever deliberately touched her. ‘I’m not saying goodbye to you, Amy. I want to see you again. I want you to give me your address in England.’

  She tried not to feel the burst of pleasure that he should want to see her again. She couldn’t forget the rules, the warnings: ‘Don’t get too attached to anyone. Not now.’

  He saw her hesitation and grinned at her. ‘You can’t go about saving a chap’s life a few times and then just walk away. You have a responsibility towards me now.’

  She relaxed and laughed. What harm could it do? ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I’ll write it down for you, but I don’t know when I will ever be back in England.’

  ‘They’ll have to give you some leave, sometime. I’ll give you my address too, and you must promise to let me know.’

  She gently removed her hand. ‘I will, but I’ve no idea when that will be, possibly not until after the war.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll see you before then.’ He wa
s smiling into her eyes.

  ‘I have to get on,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you before you go.’

  She went back to their room to find Helen waiting for her. ‘I’ve got nothing to wear,’ Helen said at once. ‘I’ll have to buy something. There must be somewhere I could buy a dress.’

  ‘I suppose there is.’ Amy was still thinking about Johnny. ‘But why don’t you wait until we know whether Matron will let us go?’

  Helen waved a paper. ‘There’s a note for you here. It’s probably from her.’

  The note was indeed from Matron, asking Amy to go to see her.

  ‘Go now,’ Helen said. ‘Then we can start planning.’

  Amy smiled at her enthusiasm. ‘Very well.’

  She walked down to Matron’s office. To be honest with herself, she wasn’t as wild to go as Helen seemed to be. Her pleasure at Johnny’s wanting to see her again was worrying and was occupying her mind too much. I won’t do it, she said to herself. I don’t, and won’t, have feelings for him other than friendship.

  Matron was more amenable than she expected. ‘I shall give you permission to go, Amy,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you need a little relaxation, and Captain Fielding seems a very respectable young man. You are very sensible, I know, and you will look after Helen, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Amy tried to sound as sensible as she possibly could. Otherwise Helen would never forgive her. She gave an involuntary smile, wondering what Matron would have said if she had asked to go out with Johnny. Johnny, from a very respectable family, but perhaps a bit wild. The answer would probably have been no.

  ‘I would prefer it if you do not wear uniform,’ Matron went on. ‘I’m sure you can find something else, can’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure we can. Thank you, Matron.’

  ‘The restaurants close at nine-thirty. Be back by ten, Amy.’

  Helen was even more excited. ‘We can go out shopping tomorrow afternoon.’ She was almost dancing. ‘There’ll be something. I think there was a dressmaker near that milliner we saw.’

  The next afternoon they went out. ‘I think Printemps is open,’ Amy said, ‘but I think they are mainly selling stuff for the military. We might be able to get a couple of plain cloaks though. We’ll need those. We can’t use our uniform coats.’