Cousins at War (37 page)

‘Good morning, Ron,’ she chirped. ‘How are you today?’

He looked up with a smile, ‘It’s my Scots beauty come to light up my day. I’m not so bad, thanks. I’ll be walking out of here before you can say Jack Robinson.’

Her pity for him swelled. He knew as well as she did that he would never walk again. ‘Ready for breakfast? Boiled eggs on toast this morning.’

He pretended to be disappointed. ‘I was looking forward to ham and eggs with sausage and tomatoes.’

Olive gave a little chuckle ‘Did you get breakfasts like that at home?’

‘Not likely. My dad died when I was small, and Mum had to go out charring to keep the two of us. We were lucky to have bread and dripping most days.’ He halted, his eyes clouding.
‘Go and attend to your other patients, Scottie.’

Obediently, she walked away, pitying him more than ever, and thinking, mournfully, that his mother would have her hands full when Ron was sent home and wouldn’t be able to go out to work.
How would they exist? She was occupied for the next hour or so with breakfasts, pills, bed baths for those who could not go to the showers. Some of the boys had been embarrassed at first when a
nurse washed them all over but most had learned to joke about it. Making fun of the indignity was the only way they could face up to it. Ron had been here before she came, however, and he still
wasn’t used to it. Sometimes, his tantrums started while he was bathed but at other times he lay passively, wincing if whoever was washing him was not gentle enough and she was puzzled by the
inconsistency.

Olive was drying a broad Cameronian who had lost an arm and a leg when Gladwys, a tiny Welsh QA, joined her. ‘I’ve bathed Ron, but can you give me a hand to make his bed?’

‘Half a mo’.’

It took two to hoist him on to a chair until they changed his sheets, and they never knew what to expect. He had been quiet for days but he could take a turn at any minute. They were smoothing
the top sheet when he began to shout. ‘Why the hell do you take so long? You’re so bloody slow, I could die in the time I’m sitting here and you wouldn’t give a
damn.’

Without stopping what she was doing, Olive said, ‘You’re not going to die, and we’re going as fast as we can.’

‘I’d be as well dead for all the use I am now.’

‘Don’t be so sorry for yourself,’ Gladwys ventured bravely from the other side of his bed.

‘I’m not sorry for myself,’ he growled, ‘but I’m no bloody use for anything.’

‘You’re not the only one who’s ever lost the use of his legs,’ Olive snapped, somewhat rashly. ‘Douglas Bader lost his legs altogether and he was flying planes
again not long afterwards.’

Her strategy did not work as she had hoped. ‘I don’t give a monkey’s cuss for Douglas Bader,’ Ron screeched. ‘He got artificial legs to help him to walk. Can you
make me walk again? Tell me how I’m going to find work when I go home.’

The bedspread was in place now but when the two nurses came to lift him back, he struck out at them with both arms, knocking the slight Gladwys off her feet and catching Olive in the stomach.
Winded for a moment, she felt furious. What was the good of trying to be kind to a man who acted like this? ‘Look what you’ve done!’ she shouted, helping Gladwys off the floor.
‘Why can’t you be thankful you’re alive and stop venting your bad temper on people who are only trying to help you?’

There was a moment’s silence but no further outburst. Ron was scowling but allowed them to lift him out of the chair. Neither of the nurses spoke but they were as gentle as they could be,
setting him down carefully on the bed and drawing up the covers. Then they went back to the Cameron Highlander to repeat the process all over again with him.

‘I’d tak’ my bonnet aff to you two if I had it here,’ he smiled as he held up his one arm and the stump to let them lift him. ‘That lad’s a bloody
maniac.’

Olive shook her head. ‘You know he’s not always like that. He’s really very nice when he’s calm.’

‘Aye, but you cannae tell when he’s goin’ aff his heid.’

‘We could see it had started and I should have known not to get too close.’ Gladwys rubbed her rump ruefully.

A glint came into the Cameronian’s eyes, ‘Would you like me to kiss it better for you, Sister?

Blushing, she exclaimed, ‘
Dyuw
,
dyuw
! You Scotsmen are the blooming limit.’

Ron made no apology when Olive brought his lunch – she had expected none – but she was relieved that the frenzied eyes were serene again. He could be thoughtful, humorous, serious
– it was tragic that the injuries to his spine had caused a kink in his brain that could change him into an animal. His hair was dark and unruly, his cheeks, pallid now, would have been ruddy
at one time, his jaw was strong, and as clear cut as a twenty-year-old’s, though he was over thirty. He had told her once that he had been six feet two and built like a wrestler before he was
shot, and his bone structure verified this, but he was pathetically thin now.

Realising that Ron had started to eat, Olive turned to go. ‘Is anything wrong, Scottie?’ he asked, as if nothing had happened.

He honestly doesn’t remember, Olive thought, but said, ‘I guess I’m a bit tired.’

‘You must be. I feel sorry for you sisters when you’re on during the day – you’ve so much to do.’

She almost retorted, ‘Grappling with a wild animal doesn’t help,’ but she wasn’t so foolhardy.

When the MO had done his rounds in the forenoon, he had said that Ron could be taken out in a wheelchair for half an hour after lunch. ‘If anyone feels like pushing him,’ he had
added. Olive had volunteered – she was taller and stronger than Gladwys and Ron never went berserk twice in one day, hardly ever twice in one week. Nevertheless, both girls were rather timid
when they wheeled the chair up to his bed. ‘How do you feel about going outside for a wee while?’ Olive eyed him hopefully. ‘It’s a shame to waste all the sunshine and the
doc said you could.’

‘I’m putty in your hands, Scottie.’ He smiled at them as they lifted him out of bed and swung him round. ‘I’ve never liked being inside when the sun was
shining.’

‘Will you manage?’ Gladwys asked at the door of the ward.

Olive knew that the question did not refer to pushing the chair but pretended that it did. ‘If I don’t, this fella’s going to have an unconducted trip down the hill.’

Ron laughed with them, his temperament as sunny as the day outside, and Olive set off, taking it slowly and carefully until they reached the foot of the incline and were on level ground. It was
hot work, so when they came to a shady tree, she said, ‘Will we stop here for a minute or two?’

‘That would be nice.’ He inhaled the fresh air deeply as Olive put on the brake, then said, ‘If you want to sit down, you can have my shawl. I’m warm enough.’ He
removed the army blanket she had put round his shoulders, but left the knee rug across his useless legs.

‘Thanks.’ Taking the blanket, she spread it on the grass and sat down. ‘We never get heat like this at home.’

‘Home? Where is your home, Scottie?’

‘Aberdeen, and we do have some good summers but . . .’

‘Before I was called up,’ Ron said, rather wistfully, ‘the farthest I ever was from home was Southend Pier but I’ve seen a good few places since then. I was stationed in
Redcar in Edinburgh for a while, then we laid out runways at Sullom Voe in the Shetlands, then we were in Yorkshire and we ended up in Brighton for a few months before D Day.’

‘I came over on D Day plus six.’

‘I was four days before you, and most of them still hadn’t got off the beaches. We came through Belgium and Holland.’

‘So did I.’

‘I must tell you something that happened when we were in Holland. We weren’t very far from Deurne when a Dutch family invited three of us in and gave us ersatz coffee and homemade
biscuits. We were getting ready to leave when I heard a shell coming down, so I dived to the floor and I happened to cover the youngest daughter – she’d have been about four – and
the windows shattered and I got glass in the back of my battledress . . . my back always seems to get it. Anyway, the mother thought I’d deliberately saved the little girl and couldn’t
do enough for me, though I told her it was just a reflex action. She’d heard me saying earlier on that I’d be thirty in two days and she told me they’d kill one of their pigs and
give me a feast on my birthday.’

‘That was very kind of her.’ Olive was amazed that he was telling her this – he had never spoken about his experiences before – but it might do him good.

‘We were moved on ten miles the day after and I thought that was my feast up the spout but one of my mates told the sarge about my birthday party and he let me go back with a jeep, so
I’d the feed of my life.’ Ron stopped. ‘D’you mind if I smoke?’

Olive shook her head and he pulled out a battered tin from the pocket of the scruffy robe he had been given. ‘We were between Nijmegen and Arnhem when we saw the parachute drop. The sky
was red with dust and we thought it was great. We didn’t know at that time the tragedy it was. Then we came through Germany itself – and that’s where I got mine – just a
couple of months before the end of the war.’ His eyes rested regretfully on the rug over his legs. ‘When they told me I was paralysed, I wished I’d been killed.’

‘I can understand that,’ Olive murmured, ‘but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. You can use your arms and hands, your eyes are OK, and your br . . .’ She
stopped in dismay, having almost forgotten that his spinal injury had affected his brain, too, a fact which, thank God, he did not realise himself.

‘Aye, that’s right, I was luckier than some.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Now, I’ve told you all about me, and I don’t know a thing about you, except you come from
Aberdeen. Have you always been a nurse?’

‘I was training to be a doctor, but . . . something happened, and I left.’

‘I bet some man broke your heart. I’ve often wondered why a pretty girl like you wasn’t married.’

She felt annoyed at herself for bringing it up and making him curious but when he said, softly, ‘Tell me about it,’ a great need rose in her to lay it out in the open, to explain her
actions, so she began with her childhood attraction to Neil, stressing how much she had pestered him before she mentioned the trick he and Alf had played on her, how it created a thirst in her for
vengeance and the need that had driven her to seduce Neil. She hesitated for a moment before going on to tell him of the outcome. Ron listened, his head cocked to one side, his face expressionless,
but when she whispered, ‘After I . . . got rid of the baby, I felt so ashamed about all I had done that I wished I was dead, so I know how you’ve felt,’ he laid his hand on her
shoulder.

‘I worked myself to a standstill sometimes,’ she went on, ‘doing everything I could to help the sick and the wounded, hoping to atone that way for the terrible things I
did.’

She half expected him to contradict her, to tell her that nothing she had done was so terrible, but after a lengthy silence, he said, ‘Yes, you were a bitch, weren’t you?’

The shock of his condemnation unplugged the hard core that usually stoppered her heart and she sobbed, ‘I was eaten up with love and jealousy . . . and hate. I didn’t care who I
hurt, but when Neil married Freda, I knew it was over. Then, when I found out I was pregnant, the only thing I could do was to leave home.’

‘You didn’t need to get rid of the baby.’

‘I couldn’t have it. Every time I looked at it, I’d have remembered Neil and, anyway, how could I make a decent life for myself if I’d an infant to look after?’

‘Other girls have managed but maybe you’re not like them. I think your mother coddled you . . . does she know yet?’

‘I didn’t write to her until a few weeks ago, then I told her not quite everything and said I’d never embarrass her by going home again.’

‘That was kind of silly, wasn’t it?’

‘What must she think of me? But it’s not really Mum I’m worried about, it’s my Auntie Gracie – that’s Neil’s mother. I couldn’t let her know what
I did.’

Ron screwed up his face, chewing over how to advise her. ‘You’ll likely hate me for this, Scottie, but I believe you should go home and tell your auntie, face to face.’

Her tears stopped with outrage. ‘I can’t, and I don’t know how you could even suggest it. Look, Ron, I don’t know what possessed me to tell you, but please forget
it.’ She stood up resolutely. ‘It’s time we went back.’

While she was replacing the blanket round his shoulders, he said, ‘You told me because it was festering inside you. You felt you had to tell somebody and I’m an outsider, not
connected with it at all. I bet confessing to me hasn’t helped you? Be honest now.’

With her free hand, Olive tucked the blanket behind his back, then gave a low moan. ‘You’re right, it hasn’t. When I began, I thought it would, but . . .’

‘If I’d sympathised with you, would that have helped?’

‘No, I don’t believe it would.’ Extracting her imprisoned hand, she turned the wheelchair round. The uphill push back took all her strength and she was relieved when an orderly
overtook them. ‘I’ll take over,’ he said, jauntily, nudging her out of the way.

‘Thanks. It’s hard going.’

When they reached the top, he handed over again, ‘I’d have come all the way with you but I’m late as it is.’

‘I’ll manage now. Thanks again.’

‘I’m glad you told me,’ Ron observed, suddenly. ‘I used to wonder if anything got through to you, you always looked so efficient, so self-controlled. But I’ve
discovered you’re as human as the rest of us. Everything you did was because you had a one-track mind.’

‘A one-track mind?’ Olive repeated, sadly, negotiating the chair round an awkward corner. ‘That’s putting it mildly. I trampled over everything and everybody to get Neil,
and I ended up destroying myself. Oh, God, I don’t want to think about it any more.’

The move came just over a week later. Olive and three other nurses were detailed to accompany the remaining patients in an ambulance plane, while the rest of the unit went with the medical
supplies by train to Bremerhaven, to be ferried to Dover by boat. An hour before the air passengers were to be collected, Ron took another turn, lashing out at anyone who went near him. Olive got a
hefty punch in the face when they were trying to restrain him and the MO ordered that he be given an injection to knock him out. Despite her throbbing cheekbone, she burst out, ‘He’ll
be all right in a minute or two.’ She didn’t blame Ron; it was all the upheaval that had set him off.