All I Have to Give (4 page)

‘I know of the Roxleys: you must be a younger sister of Allen, who is in my social set. I’m pleased to meet you, too. Locate either Nurse Connie or Nurse Nancy – they will know
where to put everything. Just follow their direction to the letter. You heard what they said about VADs: prove them wrong, for all the posh-girl brigade. And, Jennifer – thank you, and well
done.’

Darkness had fallen before Edith’s lips touched a drop of liquid. Sipping on the delicious hot tea, which the strange feel of a tin mug didn’t diminish, she leant
back on the tent post. Thank goodness another team of doctors and nurses was expected soon, to work alongside her team, as she doubted any of them could keep up the pace that had been set
today.

An eerie silence clothed the site and the surrounding area with an atmosphere of delicate peace. Some of the tension left her body, if not her mind, as she reflected on what this first day had
brought. Men with horrific wounds, some so badly hurt that it had been beyond her power to save them. She’d had to cut out bullets and shrapnel and stitching and . . . and saw off a leg of a
young man not much older than twenty! Then, amidst all this, there was the effect that Albert had had on her. Throughout all she’d done, his presence had lingered with her, and his wink and
his smile had revisited her mind at the most unexpected moments.
What is the matter with me? Have I fallen in love?
No, that couldn’t be right, for Albert was far below her in
standing. It was ridiculous – they would have nothing in common.
It must be the situation we are all in, playing with our emotions. I have to put him out of my mind!
Somehow, though,
she knew she couldn’t do that. With these thoughts confusing her, weariness crept into each limb, and tears plopped unbidden onto her cheeks.

“Ere, love, you have a good cry – we all do it. Shows we’re ’uman. You did a fantastic job or, as you would probably say, “an absolutely spiffing
job”!’

Edith had an urge to giggle at Connie’s mimicking of her but, instead, deep rasping sobs racked her body. Connie stood by, waiting, not speaking. At last the deluge calmed. As Edith wiped
her face on the apron she’d not yet discarded, the blood of a dozen men mingled with her tears, bringing home to her the pity of it all. Connie’s cheery cockney voice saved her from
descending once more into a pit of despair.

‘Now you’ve made a right mess of yerself Come on, there’s a shower tent with hot water. Gawd knows yer could do with one. Go and ’ave a quick swill. But hurry back, as
we’ll need yer in a mo.’

As Edith washed the muck of the day from her face and arms and donned the clean overall that Connie had brought to her, she wondered why she would be needed. Yes, there were one or two cases
that the nurses might have to call her to, but Connie had hinted that there was a greater reason for why she was required – a reason Edith hadn’t yet been made aware of.

It didn’t take long before the rumble of vehicles made the ground shudder, and grated on her ears. Leaving the tent and turning in the direction of the noise, she found Connie already
outside. ‘Okay, Doctor, ready for the final task of the day? These will be the dead. They collect them at night. They’ll need identifying and certifying. Then the men will bury them.
Nancy will help you.’

‘Oh God!’

‘Don’t worry, me duck.’ Nancy’s flat Leicestershire tones soothed her. How often she’d heard the gardeners and stable hands of their country home use that
expression. Not to herself of course, but still it gave her comfort, as Nancy continued, ‘It’s been a hard day – the first of many – but you’ve coped. And when we get
ourselves sorted, we’ll find ways of dealing with the horror. In the meantime I’ll help you with this lot. I had one of the men fix up that tent over there to use as a morgue. And
there’ll be an officer with them, to do the paperwork. All must be done with the dignity that the boys deserve, and I know you’ll do that.’

These last words from Nancy pulled her up. Yes, she would do this last thing for the soldiers, and she would do it keeping their pride and dignity in mind. But the sadness of it wrenched her
heart, as for the umpteenth time she wrote ‘Killed in Action’ and watched the little pile of belongings, with an identifying tag resting on top, being packed away. Another life reduced
to the size of a brown paper bag.

‘Well, that’s all done. When I emptied the last bucket, I saw Connie. She’s done the rounds, and everyone is as best they can be. She was laughing, as one of them posh lot has
set to and made us all some cocoa. Bet you could do with some, although I don’t think it’ll taste much better than ditch-water. Bloody hopeless, the VADs are.’

‘Oh, I don’t know – she may surprise you. Our nannies were very good at teaching us to fend for ourselves . . . Oh, I’m sorry, I sounded a bit off. Didn’t mean to,
I . . .’

‘No, I’ve been around your class of people long enough now to take what you say as the way you mean it. You’re used to different ways, that’s all. I’m for a shower
first. How about you?’

‘Thanks, Nancy. It’s nice to know I won’t have to be on my guard all the time and that we’ll get along. You’re a jolly nice sort. And, yes, I’ll take another
quick shower before I tackle that cocoa.’

Lying on a camp-bed for the first time surprised Edith. It felt very similar to lying on a hammock and gave relief to her aching bones. For a moment she thought of her home in
London, and of lazy days spent resting in the garden. Hammocks would be slung between the trees, and she and her cousins would lie for hours chatting about their future. Well,
she
wouldn’t chat exactly, but she would listen to Eloise and Andrina talking about how they would marry amazing men and throw wonderful parties. Why their heads were full of such stuff, she
couldn’t imagine.

For all their frivolity, they were intelligent young women; especially Eloise, whom Edith knew would secretly love a career. If only she had the courage to pursue her dream, rather than thinking
it was hopeless to do so. Well, it wasn’t, as she herself had proved. Women were fighting all the time for the right to live their lives as they chose, and to have a say in the politics of
their country. She would do the same, once this was over, but not in the way Emmeline Pankhurst advocated. Becoming an arsonist, smashing windows and serving time in prison just wasn’t her
style. No, her way would be more along the lines that Elsie Inglis, her newfound hero, had taken.

Edith had found out more about this Scottish lady after the arrival of her brother Christian’s letter, and had liked what she’d learned. A supporter of women’s suffrage, before
her hospital war work Elsie had given talks and had shown by example what women could achieve. But Edith did agree with Mrs Pankhurst on one thing: change could only come about if women were given
the right to vote. Everything had to start with that.

However, her thoughts didn’t stay long with the part of her that would campaign. Instead, the image of Albert came into her mind. She hadn’t seen him again, and when she’d
asked where he’d gone, one of the ambulance men had said that Albert would be back in the trenches. It appeared that whenever he had a break, he’d offer to help the crew who had been
assigned to erect the tents for the medical camp.

Her body shuddered at the thought of Albert in the trenches; and maybe even, at first light, going over the top to attack. Curling herself into a ball as she thought of this, she prayed:
Dear God, please keep him safe.

Low Moor, July 1916
Decisions and retributions

Pacing up and down tired her and the cold slabs made her feet ache, but the restlessness didn’t leave Ada, no matter what she did. Shaking her head in an effort to clear
the heavy fog that clouded her mind, she felt as if she was sinking into madness.

It had been like this since the day Jimmy had left for France. He’d been home after a short leave in March, once his training was over –
if you could call it training: six weeks
is all he’d had; six bloody weeks!
It seems they had shown him how to fire a rifle and not much else, by the sound of what Jimmy had told her. Then he’d been shipped out to fight.
The poor lad hardly knows one end of a gun from the other!
This thought made her blood run cold.
How will he cope? How will he keep from getting killed?

Pulling herself up, Ada stopped her pacing and leant heavily on the wooden table. As she stared down at the many impressions crayons and pencils had made on it over the years, tears began to
well up in her eyes. Running her finger over the indentations brought back memories of rainy days when her three lads had sat at this table, scribbling away.
Oh God! I can’t go on like
this!
Folding her arms around herself as if to ward off the unbearable pain, she turned away from the table and stamped her foot in frustration.
I need a distraction. I have to do
something with my time. I have to!

Never a curtain-twitcher in the past, Ada now often found herself lifting the net from the window above her pot-sink and staring out. She did that now, and saw Mabel and Agatha, arms linked,
making their way from the station. Mabel, the mother of Eric, and Agatha, the mother of Arthur – the two lads who had gone with Jimmy – hadn’t stayed at home moping about;
they’d got themselves a job.
That’s it!

Her cardigan resisted her tug as she dashed out of the door, so she left it hanging on the hook. Though she’d found it a chilly day when she’d hung a few bits out on her line
earlier, she’d risk getting cold, rather than miss catching up with Mabel and Agatha. Seeing them had given her a solution, and she wanted to sort things before she lost her nerve.

‘Hey! Mabel, Agatha, hold on a mo!’

‘Eeh, Ada, you gave me a reet fright. What’s wrong, lass?’

‘Everything, Mabel. Where do I start? But it ain’t me troubles I want to talk to you and Agatha about – it’s a job. I’ve heard Low Moor hasn’t got owt going.
Not that I have enquired for meself, but my Paddy hears stuff, and he was saying that Low Moor was fully staffed. D’you know if there’s any jobs going at that munitions factory you work
at in Leeds?’

‘It’s called Barnbow. And, aye, there’s a few. But it ain’t no cushy number . . .’

‘Since when have I ever shied away from hard work, eh? The bloody cheek of you, Agatha Arkwright!’

‘Eeh, Ada, don’t take on – I didn’t mean that. I were just going to say as it’s hard work, and I reckon you could find sommat a bit easier, if you were serious
about it.’

‘I’m sorry, lass, I shouldn’t have taken offence. But, look, I don’t want easy. I want sommat as’ll take all me energy and keep me mind occupied in the day, and
drain me so that I fall asleep at night.’

‘By, working in the munitions will do that alreet, lass. Me and Mabel can hardly keep awake on the train going to, or coming home from, the factory. I’m dead on me feet now.
We’ve been on early shift and started at five this morning, and that meant catching the train at four.’

‘Aye, I can see as you’re tired. Look, come in and have a cuppa. I’ve a pot on. I want to ask you more about it, and whether you think I stand a chance of getting set
on.’

‘I’ll pass on the cuppa, if you don’t mind . . .’

‘Aye, and me too. Look, Ada, all me and Agatha want to do is get home. But, aye, you’d get set on. Crying out for workers, they are. I’ll put a word in for you tomorrow and
stop by tomorrow afternoon and let you know. But I reckon as you’ll be on that train with us the next morning, so prepare yourself.’

Some of her despair lifted with this and made her step lighter. Closing the door once she was inside, Ada leant heavily on it.
What have I done? But then, Paddy will have to lump it.
It’s Barnbow Munitions Factory for me, no matter what he says!

A proud man, Paddy maintained that
he
was the breadwinner in the family.
Huh, I’ve yet to see the day!
She’d never known a time without worry over money, though it
had eased a little when her lads had found work . . . No, she mustn’t think of that time. They were gone, and that was that.

Even to her own mind that sounded harsh, but it was the only way she could cope.

Taking her cardigan and coat down from the peg behind the door, she pulled them on. It might be a bit chilly down here, but up the hill where her sister Beryl lived, it could fair cut you in two
at times. But she needed to go there to talk about her plans.

The houses at the top of the hill were superior to the rows where Ada lived. The folk up there had jobs – or, rather,
positions.
Beryl’s Bill was a bank clerk, and he was
forward-thinking, in that he allowed Beryl to work. She managed the local grocery store for the owner, who had retired.

This meant they could have holidays each year and go to places like Llandudno. Beryl said that was in Wales, so it was like going abroad.
Eeh, what does it feel like to have a holiday and to
see such places?
Nevertheless, Ada would not have swapped her life with Beryl’s. Never to have had young ’uns? Naw, that was sommat as she wouldn’t have wanted to miss out
on.

As she neared Beryl’s house, Ada saw her sister just going into her front gate. Looking at Beryl was like looking at herself, except that Beryl’s figure was slighter and almost
boyish-looking and she wore her hair short, whilst Paddy made Ada keep hers long. Not that Beryl’s bob tamed her curls; if anything, they were worse than Ada’s long ringlet ones,
especially now, when the wind caught and ruffled them. A smile formed around Ada’s lips at the thought of Beryl’s hair looking like a dozen coiled red springs, stuck on her head.
Eeh, it must be the new hope in me, as that’s the first time I’ve spread me face in a smile for a long time!

Calling out to Beryl made her sister wave and beckon Ada over. When she reached the door Beryl said, ‘Come in, love. Eeh, our Ada, I feel your sorrow every time I see you, lass, and it
wakens up me own. Have you heard from Jimmy? Has he got there yet?’

‘Naw. Lad won’t write for a while, I shouldn’t think. And if he did, it would take weeks to reach me.’