by Deborah Carr
Unlike Marie, he did not laugh at her, but she could see by the glint in his eyes that he was amused. “Oui,” he said.
She tapped in an amount that equalled fifty per cent of the total and showed it to him. “I will give you half the money, um de l’argent, now,” she said. “The rest at la ferme.”
He narrowed his eyes and gave her a lazy shrug with his left shoulder. “A sept heure.”
She assumed he meant that he would deliver the furniture at seven o’clock that evening and nodded, finally shaking his hand. Opening her purse, Gemma discretely counted the right amount. She would have to stop off at a cashpoint on her way home to have enough money to pay him the balance later.
Spotting a colourful stall selling brightly coloured cushions and throws, she bought pink ones for her bedroom and a set of orange ones for the other bedroom. Then, Gemma bought a blue and red vase that she like the look of. Shopping was fun, but she couldn’t do this every day simply to take her mind off Tom. She parted with her last few Euros on two rag rugs, one for beside her bed and the other for in front of the fireplace, and although she was disappointed not to find any armchairs, she decided to keep a look out for one or two over the next few weeks.
Gemma carried her bulky shopping to the bank, struggling to hold them as she withdrew her money for the furniture and extra to keep her going for the next few days with food and milk. Finally, she trudged home, tired but happy.
“Perfect,” she said half an hour later having draped the pink throw over the bottom half of her bed. She positioned the cushions against her pillows. The rug would be perfect for when she stepped out of bed. “Finally, it looks welcoming,” she said, happy at last with how her temporary bedroom looked.
She changed into her dungarees and set about painting the spare room. The last thing she needed to do was have to move the furniture by herself later. Better to paint it now before it was delivered and standing in the way, she decided.
By the end of the day, she was feeling satisfied with her work. She showered, changed into her pyjamas and dressing gown and lit a fire. The first day by herself had gone well. But, she reasoned, she hadn’t spent much of it at the farm. It was time to make herself a hot chocolate, settle down and get cosy, to read more of Alice’s intriguing letters.
Forgetting her woes, she lost herself in Alice’s letters and notes and Gemma enjoyed learning about Alice’s way of life through her eyes and thoughts. It was exciting to discover that Alice and Ed were becoming closer. Gemma had never fallen for any of the patients she nursed, and she couldn’t help wondering how agonising it must have been back then to fall in love with a soldier, only for him to be sent back to the Front.
She tried to imagine herself in Alice’s place and Tom in Ed’s. How would she have coped to discover Tom’s body had been shattered by the IUD? Would she have given up on him as his ex-fiancée had done? She knew she would not have done. Gemma read on, stopping only when she became aware that the temperature in the room had dipped. Shivering, she got up and added another log to the fire.
Her emotions were stretched as she envisaged Alice and Ed parting and then meeting again. How had people coped with the painful separations and loss she mused, her heart filled with admiration for Alice and those like her. All those young unworldly women leaving their homes with no idea of the hardship in front of them. And the men. At least now people had some idea of what to expect from war before signing up to serve.
Chewing her thumb nail, Gemma read on, learning how Alice and Ed made plans to meet up despite it being against the rules. She would do the same in their position, she decided without hesitation. Then again, Gemma mused, it had been different back then, with people more deferential to authority. She loved that Ed was determined to keep seeing the woman he loved, despite the odds.
Gemma was enchanted at the turn of events that had brought the couple into her own life. She felt like she knew them, or at least understood something of what they might have felt for each other.
Reading the next letter, Gemma gasped in disbelief.
“So that’s why Alice bought this house,” she said, wishing Tom was with her so she could share what she had just learnt. “I thought this place was special,” she sighed. “And now I know why.”
Chapter 19
Alice
October 1917
Alice tapped her cheek with her silver fountain pen and tried to think of the most appropriate words she could use in her note to Ed. She ached to be in his arms and wished there was some real hope that this interminable war would soon end.
“You’re not still composing that letter?” Mary asked when she arrived back from her ablutions. “You do realise that we only have four minutes until we have to be on duty again?”
Alice hadn’t realised the time. She would have to find a peaceful moment to write her letter to Ed later. Folding the sheet of paper carefully, she slipped it into the envelope and into her leather folder.
“This has to be the worst yet,” she said, standing up and checking her veil cap in the small vanity mirror. “Using gas on men is vile. I can’t bear seeing these men in such a state.”
“Nor can I,” Mary said, checking her watch. “Watching them clawing at their throats as they choke, or not giving in to their pleas to unleash their wrists from their beds, is unbearable.”
Alice agreed, and they reluctantly left the peace of their tent. It had only been a month since the Hun had used mustard gas for the first time. She understood the men’s fear of the odourless killer that took about twelve hours to wreak its damage on them. “It’s shocking that there are so many gas victims that we need a new ward to house them. They say it can take men four to five weeks to die,” she said, her voice breaking in a sob.
Mary grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. “We have to buck up. We mustn’t let them know how much it affects us.”
“I know,” Alice said, guiltily. She took a deep calming breath. “Right, I’m ready,” she said. She knew the patients were reassured by their reactions and the last thing she wanted to do was frighten any of them. “Come along, or we’re going to be late.”
They broke into a run. Arriving at the entrance to the ward, they stopped and took a moment to check their caps were straight and uniforms smoothed down.
“Here goes,” Mary said.
Alice braced herself, fixed a smile on her face and she followed Mary inside.
Sister Brown stopped telling off one of the younger nurses and checked her watch, no doubt, Alice assumed, disappointed to find that they were on time. “These patients need to be fed.” She indicated rows of invalid cups. “The chicken soup is cool enough now. You two can assist. Begin with the patients on the left-hand side of the ward.”
Alice picked up a cup and napkin and walked over to the first bed. Manoeuvring the patient’s pillows to raise his head slightly, she sat next to him.
“Good afternoon, Private,” she said, her heart aching to see the palm-sized mustard coloured blisters on his swollen eye lids looked as bad now as they had the day before. “I’ve got some chicken soup for you. It’ll make you feel much better.”
“Not sure about that,” he rasped, wincing in pain as he spoke.
“I’ll pour a little into your mouth at a time, so try not to panic.” She lifted the spout to his mouth and tilted the cup slightly. Despite the tiny amount of soup running into his mouth, he coughed, choking. He tried to wave for her to stop, his wrists strapped down onto each side of his bed.
Alice placed her free hand lightly onto his right hand. “It’s fine,” she soothed. When he caught his breath, she gave him a moment and then said, “Right, let’s try again.”
He moved his head away from her and clamped his lips together.
Alice closed her eyes briefly and gathered herself. “Come on,” she said. “You need nourishment to help your body heal.”
He seemed to think about it and then, giving in, relaxed slightly. Alice lifted the spout to his lips once more and raised th
e cup with extreme care. This time he managed to swallow the fluid, grimacing as the warm liquid made its way down his throat.
“Well done. I know this is difficult, but you’ll feel better with something inside you.”
They managed a few more mouthfuls and Alice was beginning to feel like she was getting somewhere. She lifted the cup to his mouth again when the ground shuddered as an explosion went off a couple of miles away. Shaking, Alice noticed she had spilled some of the soup onto the bed sheet.
“Nurse Le Breton, take better care,” Sister Brown snapped, appearing at the end of the private’s bed. “I want his bed linen replaced as soon as you’ve finished what you’re doing.”
“Yes, Sister,” Alice said, irritated with herself for making extra work for herself when there was already so much to do.
The sister walked away mumbling to herself.
“Tyrant,” he whispered.
“Don’t try to speak,” Alice said, silently agreeing with him. She wondered what made the woman so nasty. Nursing was compassionate work, but as far as she had seen, Sister Brown had very little for her fellow workmates.
After another few mouthfuls, the private shook his head. She was not surprised that he had had enough. The poor boy looked exhausted by the effort of having to swallow. She admired them all for somehow bearing the agony of liquid passing their damaged bronchial tubes. How many of these men would die, she wondered miserably? Alice wiped his face and proceeded to change his bed linen.
“There,” she said, settling him back down on his clean sheets. “You try to sleep now.”
He murmured his thanks and Alice went to tend to the next patient. She was relieved to see that he appeared to be breathing a little easier than he had during her previous shift. He was still covered with large yellow blisters, but at least she was able to hide her shock at the sight of him. She spoke to him gently as she fed him, wondering if he would ever regain his sight.
She was almost finished when Doctor Sullivan walked up to the other side of the bed. “How is my patient today, Nurse Le Breton?”
Sensing an awkwardness between them, she hesitated before replying, “He’s doing well, aren’t you Sergeant?”
He winced as he swallowed before whispering, “I am.”
“That’s good to hear.” The doctor waited for Alice to wipe the patient’s mouth. “If you’re finished, nurse, I’d like you to assist me checking the sergeant’s eyes. I’ll need saline solution to flush them out.”
“Yes, Doctor,” she said, relieved to have something to do. She took the empty cup to the trolley and went to fetch the saline solution and a fresh dressing, returning to find him soothing the patient.
“We’ll start by undoing these,” Doctor Sullivan said, unclipping the strap restraining the patient’s left hand, while Alice undid the right.
Once free, the sergeant rubbed his wrists and moved his arms slowly.
Another shell exploded nearby; and Alice flinched. Doctor Sullivan glanced at her, raising his eyebrows questioningly. She hated that she was becoming more frightened by the noise, the longer she worked at the hospital, and wished she could refrain from reacting each time.
She watched as the doctor carefully removed the bandage and dressing from the man’s sticky blistered eyes. His eyes ran with fluid and they looked so painful. She observed as Doctor Sullivan washed and cleaned them with a tenderness Alice had never noticed before. She took the discarded dressing as he inspected the damage to the eyes, all the time encouraging the man. He applied the dressing and a fresh bandage and lowered man’s head carefully onto his pillow.
“They seem to have improved slightly. I’m unable yet to ascertain how permanent the damage is to your eyes, but hopefully it won’t be as bad as we first suspected.”
“Thank you, doctor,” the man rasped.
Alice liked his honesty and knew the men did too. She had heard several patients remark that however bad the diagnosis, it was still easier to come to terms with it when they were told the prognosis.
Once the sergeant was comfortable, Alice followed the doctor outside.
“Do you think he’ll get his sight back?” She knew she shouldn’t ask but wanted an excuse to speak to Doctor Sullivan and see if there was a problem between them.
“It’s hard to tell,” he said. “I hope so.” He rubbed his face, wearily and she noticed a sadness she hadn’t seen in him before. “I thought the other gas attacks were dreadful, but this mustard gas is the cruellest. In the past month I’ve seen too many men grabbing at their throats trying not to choke. It’s desperate.”
Alice, shocked by his openness, rested her hand on his forearm closest to her. “At least you know you’re doing all you can to help them.”
He stared at her hand.
Alice blushed and pulled it away. “I’m sorry, Doctor,” she said noticing Sister Brown walking away from them. “I forget myself sometimes.” She hoped the woman hadn’t witnessed what she’d done.
“Don’t fret,” the doctor said. “We all need a friendly reminder that we’re trying our best and I appreciate yours.” He smiled at her. “Some days are harder to bear than others, aren’t they?”
“They are.” She cleared her throat. “I’d better return to the ward, I have more patients to spill food down.”
He laughed. It was a deep rumbling sound that she had never heard before. She liked it and relaxed slightly. Maybe after this war, they might meet up and be able to be friends.
She smiled at him and left to return to the ward.
The rest of her shift was spent taking care of more gassed men, her heart aching as the day passed. She hoped Ed didn’t get caught by this vile weapon. The thought of him being tortured like these poor souls was horrendous, so she pushed it away.
“Nurse Le Breton,” Sister Brown hissed from behind her. Arms folded behind her back, her large matronly chest pushed out.
Alice wondered how she could be comfortable standing in such a way. “Yes, Sister Brown?”
The older woman looked pointedly in the direction of the sergeant and then back at Alice. “Is there something you’ve missed?” she asked, her voice filled with sarcasm.
For a moment Alice couldn’t see anything wrong. The patient was sleeping, his sheets neat and dressing clean. Then it dawned on her that his wrists weren’t restrained.
“I don’t think he needs his wrists bound now he’s asleep.”
“It is not for you to decide what a patient needs, Nurse Le Breton,” Sister snapped. “You take orders. You do as you are told. Now, go and strap his wrists before he causes further damage to himself.”
Alice hoped she would meet up with Sister Brown after the war was over, too. She would have a few things to say to the harsh woman. Now was not the time, or the place, she decided as she went to do as she had been instructed.
Relieved when her shift was finally at an end, Alice walked alone to her tent. Unable to get the image of the men she had nursed from her mind, she reached her tent and unfastened her veil cap, placing it carefully on her trunk. Catching sight of her reflection in the mirror, she saw her cheeks were wet. She had no idea she’d been crying. She was exhausted and unable to take any more, Alice lay down on her bed and sobbed.
She didn’t know how much longer she could continue witnessing everything that happened at the clearing station. Then guilt flooded through her. How could she allow herself to wallow in self-pity, when these men suffered so badly? Some of them had a life time of pain ahead. Others would have no future at all. The thought of more unnecessary deaths brought on a fresh wave of tears.
“Good grief,” Mary said, her voice filled with alarm. “What’s brought this on?” She sat on the edge of Alice’s bed and stroked her back.
Alice’ sobs slowly calmed. “I’m sorry,” she gulped in between bouts of crying. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Nothing we haven’t all experienced. Don’t you worry about that. “You cry. It’ll do you good.” Mary soothed. She sto
od up and began to undress. “It can be overwhelming sometimes, it’s nothing to feel ashamed about. I’ve found it more difficult to deal with recently, too.”
Shocked not to have realised, Alice pulled a handkerchief from her uniform and wiped her eyes. Blowing her nose, she felt calm enough to speak again. “I’m sorry, Mary.”
“What on earth for?”
“For not noticing when you were upset.”
Mary shook her head and unbuttoned her uniform. “I waited until you were working on a different shift to me,” she said. “I needed a blub and it did me good.”
Feeling a little less guilty to learn that her friend had wanted to be alone, Alice sighed. “How long do you think this ghastly war will go on for, Mary? Surely it has to end sometime soon.”
“I do hope so,” Mary said, pulling on her night dress and sitting down on her bed, facing Alice. “Or we’re going to run out of soldiers to fight.”
Alice shivered, horrified by the thought. “Don’t say such things, please.”
“Sorry, that was insensitive of me.”
Alice leaned forward and took her friend’s hand. “We will get through this, and so will Peter and Ed.”
Mary nodded, but Alice suspected her friend didn’t feel as certain she did.
Chapter 20
Gemma
June 2018
Gemma lifted the thin sheet of paper to her chest, breathed in the scent of the old paper, and closed her eyes. Would her future hold something as romantic as Alice’s, she wondered, envying her for a split-second?
Each day without Tom dragged at the farm. She missed his cheerful chatter and quietly watching his muscular body as he carried materials, hammered nails into walls and carried out jobs that she did not have the physical strength to do.
She was happy with what she had achieved since he was last at the farm, especially the furniture and the painting. Having no one else to talk to meant she ended up spending quite a lot of time thinking. She realised she was slowly coming to terms with her ex’s death. Even her regret at not giving up her nursing training to emigrate to Australia with her childhood sweetheart, was something she was now beginning to think of as fate. After all, despite what he said about her not having the guts to leave her job, she was here now. Maybe she was toughening up and learning to share her life with other people. And enjoying it, too.
