No Place for a Woman

by Val Wood

  ‘Where are you taking us?’ Rose asked the driver once they were under way.

  ‘I’m taking you to a military base hospital a few miles from here, ma’am,’ he said, ‘and then I expect you’ll be given details of your next place, if you’re moving on, that is; or perhaps you’ll be staying there? I don’t know, as I’m not given information. Doctors are you, ma’am?’

  ‘We are,’ Rose said crisply. ‘Come to do our bit.’

  He grinned at them both. ‘And very welcome you’ll be, believe me.’ Then his grin slid away and he became solemn and grave as he added, ‘Very welcome indeed.’

  After nearly an hour, the cloud lifted and the sun made an effort to shine, and after passing through a woodland road where they heard the sweet sound of birdsong and saw squirrels scurrying in front of them, he turned off and drove through a pair of large iron gates and along a sweeping drive with lawns on either side, where in front of them was a large lake with a bridge over which they drove to arrive at a very grand chateau.

  They both drew in a breath; the chateau was of grey stone, and twin towers, each with six floor-length windows and three tall chimneys on its peaked roof, stood at each end of a very fine house. A white-painted double door set in the centre of the main building had a crisp white awning stretched over the length of it and two French windows on either side, whilst on the upper floor were six more windows set beneath a grey slate roof which bore a single tall chimney and an attic window.

  ‘Just look at that,’ Lucy breathed. ‘Isn’t that wonderful?’

  ‘Not bad, is it, miss?’ The driver grinned and immediately corrected himself. ‘Sorry. Doctor.’

  Lucy smiled. She knew she looked young. Was young; but probably not much younger than him.

  He pointed. ‘Tents make it look very jolly, don’t they?’ he said. ‘Like having a summer party in your front garden.’ He became serious again. ‘Except we know that it’s not.’

  The lawns in front of the house were filled by four large white tents or marquees and several smaller ones. She could see nurses coming and going in their crisp white uniforms and headdresses, many of them wearing the cape of the QAIMNS, some with the white cap closely fitted and the veil tied in a knot at the back of the neck and others with it loose, indicating that there were Red Cross nurses here as well as QAIMNS and VADs.

  ‘We’re in good company,’ Rose commented. ‘So many women here, all determined to do what they can.’

  The driver got out of the truck to come round and help them jump down and then took out their bags. ‘I’ll show you the way in,’ he said, and led them as far as the white door which he opened to put their bags inside. He touched his peaked cap. ‘Good luck,’ he said. ‘It’s quite safe here. The Germans don’t drop their bombs this far; at least, they haven’t done yet.’

  ‘Let’s hope they never do,’ Lucy murmured. ‘Thank you very much. What’s your name?’

  ‘Green, ma’am. Private Arthur Green.’

  ‘Well, thank you, Private Green,’ she said. ‘Perhaps we’ll see you again. Keep safe.’

  He touched his hat. ‘I’ll certainly try, miss – doctor,’ he said, and walked away, and as he did she noticed he had a very pronounced limp. A war injury, she wondered, or something else that hadn’t stopped him from joining the military.

  They were greeted inside by a man in a lieutenant’s uniform who stood up from his desk and took them along to a room off the great hall where he asked them to be seated whilst he went for the RAMC medical administrator. They’d glanced around them as they’d walked down the hall and noticed that the doors of some of the rooms were firmly closed, but two rooms were open, revealing beds and a nurses’ work station by the door.

  A grand oak staircase in the centre of the hall swept upwards before it divided off two ways, presumably one to the west wing and one to the east.

  ‘Whoever could have owned this?’ Lucy whispered. ‘It has to be someone very grand. Are there still titled people in France? A nobleman? A duke perhaps?’

  Rose shook her head, she didn’t know either, and they whispered possibilities as they waited, counts and countesses, dukes and duchesses, marquesses and marchionesses. ‘A baron?’ Lucy giggled and Rose put her hand over her mouth to hide her laughter.

  The administrator was wearing the uniform of a major and he greeted them warmly. ‘Major Dobson,’ he said. ‘So very pleased to meet you, so good that you could come. Two of our doctors urgently need to go on leave; they’re just about worn out. Perhaps you could unpack and find your way around today and start tomorrow? They’ll show you the ropes in the morning before they go.’

  ‘Are we staying here?’ Rose asked. ‘We understood that we’d be going to a casualty clearing station.’

  ‘That is what we’ve been told,’ he said. ‘It’s usually RAMC personnel who go up there, but we are very short of doctors and surgeons here and so …’ The question of their being women doctors and therefore unsuitable for the CCS they both felt was left hanging in the air.

  ‘I am an experienced surgeon,’ Rose said firmly. ‘I’ve operated on both men and women for over twenty years. Dr Thornbury has worked by my side for a considerable time in Endell Street hospital; you need have no fear that we will faint at the sight of a severed limb.’ She looked at him unwaveringly. ‘I understand that female nurses are routinely recruited to go to casualty clearing stations. We are here to save lives, Major Dobson.’

  His face cleared. ‘Thank you, Dr Mason,’ he said. ‘I’m quite sure you will be sent to one of the units eventually, but if you would stay with us for a short time we’d be most grateful and you’ll also see how we run things. Here at this base hospital we take the badly injured transferred from the CCS, or those on their way back home. At full stretch we can take five hundred patients; at present we have twenty doctors, some of them surgeons, some ward doctors. We do not differentiate between male and female, not in this hospital at any rate, even though word has it that the War Office does – or did,’ he added. ‘Happily they are coming to their senses now that they see the need of all experienced medical staff.’

  He gave them the number of the room they were to share and where to find it on the first floor. ‘We don’t have access to the whole house,’ he explained, ‘but we do have the use of the bedrooms. The nurses are on the top floor, all the male medical staff are in the east tower block, the military in the west. When you’ve unpacked, if you come down I’ll ask an orderly to show you round and perhaps you’d like a pot of tea or coffee and something to eat?’

  ‘Oh, thank you, yes please,’ Lucy said, beaming at him. ‘That would be most welcome.’

  They found their room, which was huge with a battered but very large wardrobe and two single beds with a chest of drawers at each side. A cast iron radiator stood beneath the window, which looked over a terrace and lawns, the lawns being filled with white tents just as the front one was. On opening a door they discovered a large bathroom with a rolltop bath with brass taps and a washbasin with a mirror above it.

  ‘Oh, do you think the water is hot? I’d do anything for a soak in a bath,’ Rose said, and ran a tap in the washbasin to test it. ‘Mm, only tepid. Perhaps it will be on later.’

  ‘We’ll ask when we go down,’ Lucy said. ‘Perhaps it’s only on for a short time each day.’

  ‘Will you ask, Lucy?’ Rose said. ‘You do it much more sweetly than I can. You’ll have everyone eating out of your hand before the end of the day.’

  Lucy laughed. ‘I’m sure that’s not true!’

  ‘Oh, but it is,’ Rose said, taking off her jacket and then her shirt and rummaging in her bag for a clean one. ‘That truck driver was most taken by you.’

  ‘That’s only because he was young.’

  ‘And I’m old enough to be his mother. Had you realized that, Lucy? I could be your mother too.’ She looked tenderly at the younger woman. ‘Except that I’m not the motherly kind.’

  Lucy sat on the bed to unfasten her boots. ‘I
hadn’t thought about it,’ she admitted, ‘but of course you could be. You were my mother’s friend.’ She looked at her companion. She always seemed to be so strong and efficient, never stood any nonsense from anybody, but Lucy sensed that she had a vulnerable spot that she was yet to find. ‘I hope you will be my friend too,’ she said softly.

  Rose patted the top of her head. ‘I hope I already am,’ she answered. ‘We all need friendship.’

  They were downstairs ten minutes later and found the orderly who was to show them round, but he took them first to the refectory, which was set out with tables and chairs and a long counter laid out with cups, saucers and very large teapots, with portable ovens set behind it. In the far corner were large stone sinks where young soldiers were scrubbing vegetables and a work table where army cooks were rolling pastry and chopping meat.

  ‘There’ll be hot food ready at five o’clock,’ the orderly said, ‘but in the meantime I can rustle up a pot of tea and a sandwich if you’d like. You must have had a long day.’

  ‘We have,’ Lucy said. ‘We left England last night and have been travelling ever since, so we are ready for a bath and bed to perk us up for tomorrow. Is there any chance of hot water?’ She looked up at him sweetly.

  He nodded. ‘The boiler goes on at five o’clock of an afternoon and then again at about four or five in the morning.’ He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was half past four. ‘There’s an old coal and wood boiler out at the back of the house,’ he said. ‘The men who stoke it call it the Black Pig; if they don’t look after it it goes out. They run it low during the day and then fuel it up again at about this time. I’d give it an hour to heat up, so if you start to run your bath at about six it should be nice ’n’ hot.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you so much.’

  They drank their tea and ate a ham sandwich and then he took them off on a brief tour of the house. Of the two open rooms in the hall that they had previously noticed, one was a fever ward for those with trench fever or other infectious or skin diseases, and a nurse handed them a face mask and indicated a washbasin where they could wash their hands before entering; the other was an anteroom holding a dozen beds, all of them occupied by patients, which led towards another room used as an operating theatre.

  There was a notice hanging on the door which said Surgery in Progress so they didn’t attempt to enter, but there was a small window cut into the top of the door so that they were able to see inside. Rose went first and said, ‘It looks well equipped,’ as if she were pleased, and then stood back for Lucy to see.

  She stood on tiptoe and saw two narrow operating tables, one of which was in use by a surgeon who had his back to them. On the far wall were several gas and oxygen cylinders and a large trolley with surgical instruments on the top shelf and face masks, bandages and padding underneath; a second trolley contained knives and saws and beneath were several deep metal containers, from one of which a bloody limb protruded. A deep white sink was on another wall, with a shelf of towels above it.

  She nodded and murmured to Rose that it seemed to be as well resourced as Endell Street. The other doctor agreed that it did.

  ‘If you’d like to look outside at the hospital beds, ma’am,’ the orderly said as they came back into the hall, ‘do feel free to wander, but I must ask you to excuse me as I have other duties to perform.’

  ‘Of course; we mustn’t hold you up,’ Rose said. ‘Thank you very much indeed for your help. What is your name?’ she added, taking a leaf from Lucy’s book. ‘So that we know who to ask for another time.’

  ‘Rymer, ma’am, Private Herbert Rymer, and you’re Dr Mason and Dr Thornbury.’ He turned to Lucy as he spoke. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance.’ He touched his forelock with his finger as if he were wearing his cap, which he wasn’t, as it was tucked beneath his arm, and marched away.

  ‘A very nice young man,’ Rose murmured. ‘I think you’ll have to watch out, Lucy, or you’ll be breaking a few hearts whilst we’re here.’

  Lucy just laughed. ‘I’m practically an old maid. I’ll be twenty-three in August.’

  ‘Oh, dear!’ Rose gave a great sigh as they went outside. ‘Poor you. Indeed, you’d be considered to be on the shelf if you were at home leading a normal life.’

  They inspected the outside wards in the marquees and again they appeared to be run very efficiently by the nursing sisters, with doctors in attendance. Then, as it was getting close to six o’clock, they went inside the chateau again. A good smell of food was coming from the refectory but both agreed that they were almost too tired to eat and were not so hungry after eating the sandwich. As they approached the stairway, two men came out of the anteroom, one in his forties, one in his late twenties, the older man still in his blood-spattered white coat. ‘Ladies,’ the older man proclaimed. ‘May I be of assistance?’

  ‘Dr Mason,’ Rose said briskly. ‘Surgeon. And my colleague Dr Thornbury. And you are?’ she asked pertinently.

  He stared at her for a moment. ‘Oh, erm, Dr Staples – and, erm,’ he loosely indicated his younger colleague, ‘Dr Howard. I had no idea that we were expecting, erm, more members of the fairer sex to take over our role. No one said.’

  Rose didn’t blink an eyelid as she answered, ‘The fairer sex? Who might they be? Did we see anyone of that description as we journeyed here, Dr Thornbury?’

  Lucy kept a straight face. ‘I don’t believe so, Dr Mason, although I wasn’t looking out for anyone of that sort. I’ve only seen doctors, nurses and soldiers.’

  She saw a flicker of amusement on Dr Howard’s lips before he looked away.

  ‘Well, ladies – erm, doctors,’ Dr Staples blustered, and didn’t appear to notice the anger on their faces or the consternation written on Dr Howard’s. ‘I suppose, seeing as you’re here, do you wish me to show you the operating theatre before we leave? Show you the ropes and how we like things to be done? It can be a bit bloody, you know. Probably not at all what you expect, or have come across before.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Rose replied, her voice tight as steel. ‘We are quite familiar with operating theatres and equipment. As long as it has been left clean and scrubbed down ready for use,’ she looked pointedly at his stained coat, ‘we can manage perfectly well. Are you the only surgeons on duty today?’

  Dr Howard was about to speak when Dr Staples interrupted. ‘Ward doctors,’ he said. ‘Women, some of them. But they don’t operate, they tend the injured as they come in.’ He frowned. ‘Well, if you’re sure you can cope, we’ll leave you to it. I hope you’ve got strong stomachs. It’s not like midwifery, you know!’ He gave a gruff laugh.

  ‘Have you ever attended a birth, Dr Staples?’ Rose asked, and Lucy could hear the ice in her voice.

  ‘Good heavens no!’ he said heartily. ‘I leave that to the midwives.’

  ‘So you’ve never seen a woman with a ruptured womb, or attended a home birth where the mother is delivered of a child by caesarean section?’

  He paled and began to look uncomfortable and shook his head.

  ‘Well, thank goodness for that,’ Rose said vehemently. ‘For without that experience, no woman would want you near her. Good evening, doctors!’ she emphasized, and turning on her heel she walked upstairs.

  Lucy gave her a few minutes to calm down, going into the refectory before following her up to their room. Rose was discreetly undressing, about to put on her dressing gown. ‘Don’t get upset over that silly man,’ Lucy said quietly.

  ‘Sometimes it still gets to me,’ Rose said bitterly. ‘The male prejudice. Even after such a long time in medicine. But anyway, it doesn’t matter! I’m running a bath,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Would you like to take yours first, Lucy, and then I can linger? Leave the water. I know you’re clean and it’s wasteful not to.’

  ‘All right,’ Lucy agreed. ‘I’ll take a quick dip. One of the maids from the refectory is bringing us a tray of tea and biscuits. I asked if we might have one and she said she’d bring it u
p. Wasn’t that good of her?’

  She bathed; the water was hot and soothing and she closed her eyes and thought if she wasn’t careful she’d fall asleep. She was drying and putting on her dressing gown when she heard a knock on the bedroom door and Rose speaking to someone.

  ‘There you are,’ she said, coming into the bedroom. ‘There’s still plenty of hot water if you want to top it up.’

  ‘Oh, bliss! Thank you, Lucy, you’re a dear.’ Rose had her cup of tea and a biscuit in her hand and took them into the bathroom with her.

  When she came out half an hour later, pink and warm and ready to climb into her bed, she smiled when she saw Lucy fast asleep on her pillow, a half-eaten biscuit in her hand and a half-drunk cup of tea on the table beside her.

  She leaned over and gently took the biscuit from Lucy’s fingers. Still looking down at her, she murmured, ‘How proud you would have been, Alice, of your beautiful, talented daughter. I’ll try to watch over her as you would have done, and love her as I once loved you.’ Gently she stroked Lucy’s cheek. ‘Goodnight, Alice. Sleep well, dear Lucy.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  She was on the train again. She heard the screech of brakes, men shouting, the shrieks of women and children screaming, the squealing of metal on metal and the sensation of falling as with a series of heavy thuds the carriages toppled off the iron rails. She opened her mouth and gave a long silent scream and felt the press of protective arms and warm bodies above her. Someone was knocking; was someone coming to rescue her? She felt warm tears on her cheek. Someone was knocking; Tell them to stop, Mama, she sobbed.

  Someone was knocking. Lucy sat up in bed. A hospital bed; was she still there? Her mama lay in the bed next to hers, her dark brown hair in a long plait stretched across her pillow. But no; she’d been dreaming again. It wasn’t her mother, it was Rose, her friend, and they were in France. She slipped out of bed, put on her dressing gown and went to the door. ‘Just a minute.’