“Yes, they took me,” she said, relieved. “I start work in twenty minutes and I still have to find a room.” She reached into the back of the truck, brushed the chicken feathers off her valises, and pulled them out. He offered to carry them for her, but she thought she’d best do it herself. She thanked him again, and had already paid him that morning. He gave her a warm hug, kissed her on both cheeks, wished her luck, and got back in his truck and left.
Annabelle walked into the Abbey carrying her bags, and found the area where the nurse had told her the old cells were. There were row upon row of them, dark, small, damp, musty, and they looked miserably uncomfortable, with one lumpy mattress on the floor of each, and a blanket, and in many cases no sheets. Only a few of the cells had sheets, and Annabelle suspected correctly that the women who lived in those cells had provided them themselves. There was one communal bathroom to about fifty of the cells, but she was grateful to have indoor plumbing. The nuns had clearly not lived in any kind of comfort or luxury, in the thirteenth century or since. The Abbey had been purchased from their order many years before, at the end of the last century, and had been privately owned when Elsie Inglis took it over and turned it into a hospital. It was a beautiful old building, and although not in fabulous condition, it suited their purpose to perfection. It was an ideal hospital for them.
As Annabelle looked around, a young woman came out of the cells. She was tall and thin and looked very English, with pale skin, and hair as dark as Annabelle’s was blond. She was wearing a nurse’s uniform, and she smiled at the new arrival with a rueful expression. She looked like a nice girl. There was an instant affinity between the two women.
“It’s not exactly Claridge’s,” she said with the accent of the upper classes, and she had sensed the same about Annabelle immediately. It was more felt than seen, but neither girl was anxious to advertise her blue blood to anyone else. They had come here to do hard work, and were happy to be there. “I assume you’re looking for a room,” the girl said and introduced herself. “I’m Edwina Sussex. Do you know your shift?” Annabelle told her her name and said she didn’t.
“I’m not sure what they’ll have me do. I’m supposed to report to Ward C in ten minutes.”
“Good on you. That’s one of the surgical wards. Not squeamish, are you?” Annabelle shook her head, while Edwina explained that there were already two other girls sharing her cell, but she pointed to the one next door, and said that the girl who’d lived there had gone home the day before because her mother was sick. None of them was nearly as far from home as she was. The British girls could easily go home, and come back, if need be, although crossing the Channel wasn’t easy these days either, but nothing was as dangerous as crossing the Atlantic. Annabelle explained that she had arrived from the States the day before. “Brave of you,” Edwina said admiringly. The two young women were exactly the same age. Edwina said she was engaged to a boy who was currently fighting on the Italian border, and she hadn’t seen him in six months. As she said it, Annabelle set her bags down in the cell next to hers. It was as small, dark, and ugly as the others, but Annabelle didn’t care, and Edwina said they spent no time in their rooms, except to sleep.
Annabelle barely had time to set down her bags, and rush down the stairs again to find Ward C. And as Edwina had suggested, when she got there, she found a huge surgical ward. There was an enormous room that looked as though it had once been a large chapel, filled with about a hundred beds. The room wasn’t heated, and the men were covered with blankets to keep them warm. They were in various states of distress, many of them whose limbs had been blown off or surgically severed. Most were moaning, some were crying, and all were very sick. Some were delirious from fevers, and as she went looking for the head nurse to report in, many of the men clutched at her dress. Beyond the big room were two other large rooms being used as operating theaters, and more than once she heard someone scream. It was an impressive scene, and if Annabelle hadn’t done the volunteer work she had for the past six years, she would have fainted on the spot. But she looked unruffled as she made her way through the room, past dozens of beds.
She found the head nurse coming out of one of the operating rooms, looking frazzled and holding a basin with a hand in it. Annabelle explained that she was reporting for duty. The head nurse handed her the basin and told her where to get rid of it. Annabelle didn’t flinch and when she returned, the head nurse put her to work for the next ten hours. Annabelle never stopped. It was her trial by fire, and by the end of it, she had won the older nurse’s respect.
“You’ll do,” she said with a wintry smile, and someone said she had worked with Dr. Inglis herself, who was back in Scotland by then. She had plans to open another hospital in France.
It was midnight when Annabelle got back to her cell. She was too tired to unpack her suitcases or even undress. She lay down on the mattress, pulled the blanket over herself, and five minutes later she was sound asleep with a peaceful look on her face. Her prayers had been answered. And for now, she was home.
Chapter 15
Annabelle’s first days at L’Abbaye de Royaumont were grueling. Casualties from the Second Battle of Champagne were coming in at a rapid rate. She assisted in surgeries, emptying surgical pans and soaking up blood, disposed of shattered limbs, emptied bedpans, held the hands of dying men, and bathed men with raging fevers. Nothing she had ever seen before was even remotely like it. She had never worked so hard in her life, but it was exactly what she had wanted. She felt useful, and was learning more every day.
Annabelle hardly ever saw Edwina. She was working in another part of the hospital, and they were on different shifts. Once in a while they ran into each other in the bathroom or passed in a corridor between wards, and waved at each other. Annabelle had no time to make friends, there was too much work to do, and the hospital was crammed full of wounded and dying men. Every bed was full, and some lay on mattresses on the floor.
She finally got a few minutes one afternoon to go to a local bank, and sent a message to her own bank in New York that she had arrived safely and all was well. There was no one to tell or care. She had been in Asnières for two weeks by then, and she felt as though she’d been there for a year. The English and French had landed in Salonika, in Greece, and Austrian, German, and Bulgarian forces had invaded Serbia and expelled the Serbian army from the country. In France, men were dying like flies in the trenches. Thirty miles from the hospital, the front had hardly shifted, but lives were being lost constantly. There were field hospitals set up in churches closer to the front, but as many men as could be were brought to the Abbey in Asnières, where they could get better care. Annabelle was learning a great deal about surgery. And they were also dealing with everything from dysentery to trench foot, and a number of cases of cholera. Annabelle found all of it terrifying but exciting to be able to help.
On a rare morning off, one of the women in her cell block taught her to drive one of the trucks they used as ambulances, which wasn’t so different from Jean-Luc’s poultry truck. She had a hard time getting it into gear at first, but she was starting to get the hang of it when she had to report to work again. She was assigned to the operating room more than any of the others, because she was precise, attentive, meticulous, and followed directions to the letter. Several of the doctors had noticed her and commented on her to the head nurse, who agreed that Annabelle’s work was excellent. She thought she’d make a terrific nurse, and had suggested to Annabelle that she should train formally after the war, but the head surgeon at the Abbey thought she was better than that. He stopped to chat with her after their final operation late one night. Annabelle didn’t even look tired as she scrubbed the room and cleaned up. It had been a particularly exhausting day for all of them, but Annabelle hadn’t lagged for a minute.
“You look as though you enjoy the work,” he said to her as he wiped his hands on his bloody apron. Hers looked just as bad. She didn’t seem to notice, and she had a streak of someone’s blood on her face.
He handed her a rag to wipe it off with, and she thanked him and smiled. He was a French surgeon who had come from Paris, and was one of the few male doctors they had. Most of the medical personnel were women, which had been Elsie Inglis’s intention when she set it up. But they made exceptions, as they needed a lot of help. They were treating so many men that by now they were grateful for all the doctors they could get.
“Yes, I do,” Annabelle said honestly, as she put away the rag with the other linens that the girls in the laundry room would pick up later. Some of it just had to be thrown away. “I’ve always loved this kind of work. I just wish the men didn’t have to suffer so much. This war is such a terrible thing.” He nodded. He was in his fifties, and he had never seen a carnage such as this himself.
“The head nurse thinks you should go to nursing school,” he said tentatively, looking at her as they walked out of the operating room together. It was impossible not to notice what a pretty girl she was, but there was a great deal more to her than that. Everyone had been impressed with her medical skill since she’d arrived. The doctor who had written her reference hadn’t exaggerated, she was even better than his glowing praise. “Is that what you’d like to do?” the surgeon inquired. He was impressed by her French as well, and it had improved dramatically in the past two weeks. He had no problem speaking to her in French, or she in responding to him.
She thought for a moment before she answered him. She was no longer married to Josiah, and her parents were gone. She could do anything she wanted now—she answered to no one. If she wanted to go to nursing school, she could, but as she looked up at him, she was as surprised as he by what she said.
“I’d rather be a doctor,” she almost whispered, afraid that he would laugh at her. Dr. Inglis, who had established the hospital, was a woman, but it was still unusual for a woman to attend medical school. Some did, but it was very rare. He nodded in response.
“I was thinking that myself. I think you should. You have a talent. I can tell.” He had taught at the Faculté de Médecine for years before the war, and had dealt with men far less capable than she. He thought it was an excellent idea. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking shocked. She had never allowed herself to think of it as a real possibility before. And now this kind man was taking her seriously and offering to help. It brought tears to her eyes. “Would it be possible?”
“Of course. Anything is possible if you want it badly enough and are willing to work for it. And something tells me you would. Why don’t you think about it, and we’ll talk about it another time.”
His name was Dr. Hugues de Bré, and their paths didn’t cross again for another month. She heard that he went to work at one of the field hospitals closer to the front for a while, and came back to the Abbey in November. He smiled the moment he saw Annabelle, and had her administer chloroform to the patient herself. She was gentle and efficient as she put the crying man to sleep, and then a young doctor took over from her after that. Dr. de Bré talked to her that night before he left.
“Have you thought any more about our plan? I thought of another thing,” he said cautiously. “Medical school is expensive. Would that be possible for you?” Something about her suggested to him that it would, but he didn’t want to assume it. He had been thinking about how to get a scholarship for her. It would have been difficult because she wasn’t French.
“I think it would be all right,” she said discreetly.
“What about going to Dr. Inglis’s medical college in Scotland?” he suggested, and Annabelle shook her head.
“I think I’d rather stay in France.” Although the language would be easier in Scotland, she could manage in French, and the prospect of spending years in the dreary weather in Scotland didn’t appeal to her as much.
“I could do more to help you here. I was thinking of a small medical school I’ve always liked in the South of France, near Nice. And I don’t think you should wait until the war ends. It would be easier to get in now. Classes are smaller, they need students. Many of the young men are gone, so there is less competition to get in. They would welcome you with open arms. With your permission, I’d like to write to them and see what they say.” Annabelle smiled up at him in astonishment and gratitude. It was impossible to believe this was happening. Perhaps it was destiny. Six months before, she’d been married, hoping to have a family one day, in her safe, predictable life in Newport and New York. Now she was alone, in France, talking about going to medical school, and everything in her life had changed. Josiah was with Henry in Mexico, and she had no one to answer to at all. If this was her dream, she could follow it now. There was no one to stop her. The only thing that made her sad was that she had no one to discuss it with except Dr. de Bré.
They were still dealing with waves of wounded coming from the front, as the weather turned colder, and more men died of infections, wounds, and dysentery. She had lost two of the men she’d been caring for only that morning, when Dr. de Bré stopped to talk to her again. It was two weeks before Christmas, and she was homesick for the first time. She’d been thinking that only a year before, her mother had been alive. Dr. de Bré broke into her reverie and told her he had had a letter from the school in Nice. He looked at her portentously, and she held her breath, waiting to hear what he had to say.
“They said they would be very happy to accept you with a recommendation from me. They’ll put you on a probationary basis for the first term, and if you do well, you will be accepted as a full student after that.” He was smiling at her as her eyes grew wide. “They would like you to begin on January fifteenth, if that appeals to you.” Her eyes and mouth flew open in disbelief, and she stared at him.
“Are you serious?” She almost jumped into his arms. She looked like a very young girl as he laughed at her. It had been a pleasure to assist such a talented young woman. In his opinion, the world needed doctors like her. And as much as she was needed here to assist, he thought it far more important for her to train as a physician as soon as possible. She would do the world a lot more good as a doctor.
“I’m afraid I am serious. What are you going to do about it?” he asked, still unsure if she would go. She hadn’t been sure herself. His inquiry had been more of an exercise to see what they would say. She hadn’t expected it to be so easy, or so quick. But the school needed students desperately, and with a recommendation from Dr. de Bré, they had every confidence that she would justify his faith in her, and so did he.
“Oh my God,” she said, staring at him, as they left the ward and walked into the cold night air. “Oh my God…I have to go!” It was a dream come true, something she had never expected to happen, never dared to dream of, and now the dream was within reach. She didn’t have to just read medical books on her own, trying to figure it all out for herself. She could study them, and become exactly who and what she wanted to be. He had given her a gift beyond belief. She had no idea how to thank him as she threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek.
“You’re going to make a wonderful doctor, my dear. I want you to stay in touch with me, and come to see me when this war is over, and life is normal again, if it ever will be.” It was hard to believe that now. The death toll in Europe had reached three million. Far too many lives had been lost already, and nothing had been resolved. All of Europe was at war with each other, and America was still determined not to get involved.
Annabelle hated to leave the Abbey. She knew she was needed there, but Dr. de Bré had made a good point, this was the perfect time for her to go to medical school. In peacetime, with more men applying, they may not have been as willing to accept her. They had told him that in the coming term, she would be the only woman in her class, although they had had female graduates before. Her studies would take six years in all. One mostly in the classroom, and five years thereafter taking classes and working with patients in a hospital near the school. They were affiliated with one of the best hospitals in Nice. She wo
uld get a lot of experience, and it was a good place for her to live. In peacetime, it was safer for her than Paris, more provincial and smaller, since she had no one to protect her. He had told her there were dormitories at the school, and they would give her a large private room of her own, since she was the only female student. And he suggested that afterward, she would come back to Paris, and perhaps work for him. He had so much faith in her that she was determined to justify it.
She was floating that night when she went back to her cell, and Dr. de Bré had said he would write to the school to accept the place for her. She had to send them some money by the first of January, which wasn’t a problem. She could pay the rest of the tuition for the first year when she got there. Her mind was chock-full of excitement and plans. Her head was spinning, and she was awake most of the night, thinking about it. She remembered telling Josiah once that she wanted to dissect a cadaver, and now she would, and nothing and no one could stop her. She had already learned a great deal more about anatomy after working in the operating room at the Abbey, particularly with Dr. de Bré. He was always careful to teach her as he went along, if the case wasn’t too dire. And just watching him operate was an honor.
She told no one her plans until the day before Christmas, when she finally told the head nurse, who was stunned, but thought it an excellent idea.
“Good heavens,” she said, smiling at her, “I thought you’d be a nurse. I never thought you’d want to be a doctor. But why not? Dr. Inglis is one of the best. So could you be one day,” she said proudly, as though she’d thought of it herself. “What a good thing for Dr. de Bré to do. I heartily approve.”
Annabelle had been there for three months by then, and had proven herself in every way. She hadn’t really had time to make friends, since she worked all the time, even when she didn’t have to. But there were so many wounded, and so much work to do for all of them. She even drove one of the ambulances from time to time when they needed her to. She was willing to do it all. She had driven closer to the front to pick up men from the field hospitals there and brought them back to the Abbey. The sound of the guns nearby had been impressive, and reminded her of how close the fighting was. In a way, she felt guilty leaving them all to go to medical school in Nice, but it was such an exciting prospect there was no way she could resist it. It was more than a little daunting knowing that she would be twentyeight when she was finished. It seemed like a long time to her, but she had so much to learn in the meantime. She couldn’t imagine cramming it all into six years.
A Good Woman Page 15
