For King and Country (13 page)

‘Ah, but not your best one! Nurse Wilde must be worth two of any other nurses. Nurse Wilde came to us highly recommended by her last employer, did you know that?’

‘Yes. Too good to be true, isn’t she?’ said Dunkley.

‘Did you know that, Lieutenant Raynor?’ Dr Campbell continued. ‘ No, don’t talk yet, but after a while, when you’re up to it, just put your finger over that hole I
made above your collar bone, and try it. You might manage all right.’

‘Thank you,’ Raynor attempted to say, and promptly went into convulsions, painful to watch.

Sally glanced anxiously towards Dr Campbell. ‘We won’t start worrying yet,’ he assured her. ‘There’s no involvement below the waist. In bad cases the whole body
bends right back like a bow, until the heels almost hit the back of the head. That really is a spasm.’

Raynor’s convulsions subsided, and Dunkley picked up the instrument tray. Dr Campbell gazed at Sally for a moment or two with a quizzical expression in his eyes, and then with voice
lowered asked Dunkley: ‘Did I mention that Nurse Wilde’s last employer happens to be a relative of mine, in Darlington? See how intently she’s listening to us, Staff, and with
such a demure tilt of her head, one might almost believe butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Charming, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, charming,’ Dunkley agreed, through gritted teeth.

What was he getting at, Sally wondered? If Dr Lowery was his relative, he must know her employment there had ended in disaster. And whatever the recommendation had been as to her nursing skills,
her most recent performance showed it was hardly deserved. Except for her belated realization that whatever suited his wife didn’t suit Dr Lowery, she hadn’t developed much skill in
observation in Darlington, and she could have kicked herself to Darlington and back for her lack of observation in Raynor’s case. Still, she wasn’t going to announce her failure to
these two. If Sister had wanted them to know, she’d have told them.

The thought occurred: perhaps she had told them, and now they were merely amusing themselves at her expense. ‘One might
almost
believe butter wouldn’t melt . . .’
She’d have given anything to know exactly what Dr Campbell had been told about her to give rise to a remark like that. Whatever it was, he was certainly enjoying himself with it – and
was he baiting Dunkley, or was she in on the joke as well?

He opened the door and stood aside for Dunkley to pass, giving Sally a lingering glance before he followed her. A plague and downfall of susceptible women, that man. Sally would certainly be on
her guard against him, and would have been even without the warning Sister had given her during that private interview in the office.

‘You’re a better nurse than I am, Lieutenant Maxfield,’ Sally joked a week later when she went into Raynor’s room and found him there. And in Lieutenant
Raynor’s case, it was true. Maxfield’s devotion to the cause of his recovery was unflagging. Whenever he was left unattended for a moment Maxfield was in his room, silently ministering
to him or simply being there. He had stopped following Sally about, stopped writing her notes, and the wariness in that eye which had always seemed to be darting in her direction was gone. In its
place was a closed off look which had begun to disturb her, because it seemed to her that it was accompanied by a strange sort of flatness in him. She was haunted by the idea of him ending like
Armstrong’s relation, and thought, thank God for Raynor. Raynor’s illness seemed to take his mind off himself. Without Raynor to tend he might have sunk into despair.

She placed her tray carefully on the bed table, draped a clean cover around Raynor’s throat, and announced, ‘I’ve come to clean your tube, Lieutenant.’ Let loose on it
for the very first time without either Sister or Nurse Dunkley looking over her shoulder, she crossed to the sink to wash her hands until they were surgically clean and dry them on the freshly
laundered towel. Maxfield went to the door, and as he put his hand on the knob she had a sudden impulse to do as Armstrong had suggested, and try to get to the bottom of his queer obsession with
her. ‘You don’t have to go, Lieutenant Maxfield,’ she said, glancing at Raynor, ‘as long as Lieutenant Raynor doesn’t mind you staying.’

Raynor indicated that he didn’t mind. Conscious of Maxfield’s eye on her, Sally slid the smaller, inner tracheostomy tube out of the larger one and carefully cleaned off the
secretions encrusting it. ‘You once showed an interest in the village I’m from, Lieutenant Maxfield,’ she said. ‘Well, I’ll tell you. It’s nothing out of the
ordinary, but I love it. It’s an ordinary village with a bonny church and a market square with houses around it and a few little streets behind, a blacksmith’s, and a few shops, a pub,
and an old coaching inn not far off that’s kept by my sister and her husband. The houses are all made of stone, and it’s all beautiful and clean, and there are quite a few farms nearby.
It’s called Old Annsdale. You might have heard of the Annsdale Hunt? But I don’t suppose it’s very likely, you being from Australia. Maybe Lieutenant Raynor has, though.
It’s quite famous.’

Lieutenant Raynor put a finger over his tracheostomy, to force air through his larynx and enable him to gasp a ‘Yes!’

‘Aye, well,’ Sally went on, ‘there’s a pit village not far off called Annsdale Colliery, and that’s not so clean and not so beautiful either, but I love that place
an’ all, because that’s where I was brought up until me dad got killed. He was a pitman. My brothers are both pitmen, but they’re in France now. Me sisters are all married, the
eldest to the landlord of the inn I told you about, the middle one’s husband works in the pit, and the youngest but me got married to a captain in the Army a couple of year ago. I’m the
youngest of the family, plain and ordinary, and that’s all there is to know about me. It’s not much.’

Maxfield listened intently, tugging at his moustache, not interrupting her once and at the end of it looking at her as if willing her to tell him more. But there was no more. She replaced the
clean tube, overjoyed that she’d managed the job without triggering any spasms. She looked at Raynor with her bright, nursey smile, her eyes shining in triumph. ‘There, that
wasn’t so bad, was it?’ she said, removing the cloth and dropping it on the tray with the rest of her equipment.

Maxfield was using Raynor’s notepaper to scribble her another message. Well, she’d asked for it; she’d set the thing in motion, and now she’d have to see it through to
the end. She took it from him, and read:

‘You look, but you don’t see!’

What did he mean? He must be talking about Raynor’s tetanus. She looked him straight in the eye, her pleasure in a job well done dashed to the floor. ‘Do you think I don’t know
that?’ she said.

‘Wait, wait,’ his lips formed, but she wouldn’t wait. Instead, she collected her tray and her dignity, opened the door and quietly left the room.

Maxfield had made himself so useful in the ward whilst nursing time was being devoured by Lieutenant Raynor that it would have been hard to bear any grudges, even if Sally had
wanted to. With hardly a week passing without discharges or a death, and then more admissions and operations, the ward was rarely still, and they were only too glad of his help. Whilst Sally flew
about doing the more exalted tasks Sister now entrusted her with, she often saw Maxfield helping the orderly and the junior probationer giving out food and drinks, collecting crockery and cutlery
after meals, and generally fetching and carrying for the other patients, ignoring Knox’s baleful eye and his barbed comments about ‘TGs behaving like charwomen’. To the mild
disapproval of a couple of the officers and the great amusement of the rest, Maxfield occasionally indulged in Chaplinesque mimicry of him behind his back, and though Knox suspected he was being
made fun of, he never managed to catch him at it. Sally sometimes watched Maxfield, thinking he wasn’t like an officer at all, he so put her in mind of some of the lads she’d gone to
school with, but if he caught her watching he ceased his antics and looked away, never allowing his gaze to rest on her for long, these days.

‘Matron’s halfway round the next ward. Get a move on,’ Sister barked, ‘And you’ll have to manage without me. There’s work in the office got
to be done.’

Nearly here already! It wouldn’t be long until she was on top of them. At least Crump was back on duty, the beds were made, and the observations and the medicine round done, but what a
disgrace the ward looked, with the bathing trolley in the middle of it and men and their belongings all lying about any old how. They worked feverishly, tidying patients and sitting them up
straight, making the half dead look hale and hearty, plumping pillows and making sure they were placed with the openings away from the ward door, smoothing and straightening top sheets, throwing
books and magazines and newspapers and slippers into lockers, hanging up dressing gowns, lining screens and trolleys up like soldiers on parade, and ruthlessly removing from its vase any flower
that had dared to wilt since they came on duty. Maxfield rushed about among them, half in mockery, half in earnest.

‘Get back into bed, Lieutenant Maxfield!’ Dunkley ordered. ‘Matron will be here any minute!’

He turned a deaf ear and carried on with his tidying, snatching a vomit bowl off a locker top and displaying it’s contents to Sally as he passed her on his way to the sluice – not
enough spit to cover a sixpence. She stared after him anxiously. Sister might choose to turn a blind eye to Maxfield’s appointing himself VAD nurse cum ward maid, but Matron would certainly
have something to say about it. ‘For goodness’ sake!’ she hissed, when he emerged from the sluice.

They heard Matron’s voice in the corridor, and as Sally hurried with the others to greet that all-powerful figure appearing at the top of the ward she saw him hop into bed.

‘Sister asked me . . .’ Dunkley said.

Matron looked her straight in the eye. ‘You’re both excused, Nurse. I want to see how the probationers are progressing.’

Oh, dear, thought Sally, please, not me!

But she had no choice. Matron was already walking into Lieutenant Raynor’s room, bidding him good afternoon, and looking inquiringly at Sally, waiting for the report.

‘Lieutenant Raynor, Matron. He had an amputation of his right arm. His left is fractured, but healing slowly. He was diagnosed with tetanus, and had a tracheostomy because of breathing
problems. It’s twelve days since his first spasm. They were quite severe, but he’s had none at all for the past twenty-four hours. He’s lost a lot of weight, but he’ll be
getting his tubes out today, and Doctor says he’ll be able to take a light diet.’

Matron gave her an approving smile, and had a few words with Raynor before passing on to the other patients. Sally walked deferentially behind, desperately trying to recall each patient’s
diagnosis and treatment, and usually succeeding. Nurse Crump was not much help, not having progressed much beyond cleaning and basic work.

Major Knox was an easy one to remember. ‘Gunshot wounds to the chest, Matron, and a badly fractured shoulder. The wounds are clean and he was for discharge, but he had blood stained sputum
again yesterday, so he’s being kept in.’

She excelled with Maxfield. ‘His facial wound’s healing, but his arm seems to be inflamed; Doctor thinks there may be more sequestrum. He might have to go to theatre again for
another exploration and debridement.’

There, that should show she wasn’t a complete dunce. Matron seemed impressed, and by the time they got back to the top of the ward Sally had forgotten her nervousness and had begun to
enjoy herself. She was almost sorry when the round ended.

‘Very satisfactory, Nurse Wilde,’ Matron said. ‘You demonstrate something many nurses seem to lack, a keen interest in the progress of your cases. Well done.’

Sally was elated. Matron was every inch a lady, so nice to all the patients, so polite, so fair and so encouraging, she thought, her smile stretching from ear to ear as she watched her cut
Dunkley dead on her way out of the ward.

September slid into October, and the shutters closed out the darkness beyond the long sash windows. The few visitors were gone, and apart from the crackling of the fire the
ward had lapsed into a peaceful, cosy silence.

‘These are the jobs you want when your legs and back ache, and you can hardly keep your eyes open,’ Sally said as she and Nurse Crump sat at the table in the middle of the ward,
tearing the blue paper off rolls of gauze. Her legs felt heavy and every bit of energy was drained out of her, so that she was glad to settle to the easy task of making swabs until it was time to
go off duty.

‘It’ll not last long, you watch,’ said Crump. ‘As soon as we get settled, some awkward bugger’ll want a bedpan or something.’

Crump’s was a voice that carried, and Sally’s eyes widened in warning. ‘Shush,’ she hissed, casting anxious glances at the patients, hoping they hadn’t heard. One
or two evidently had and were grinning from ear to ear, including Raynor, who’d been evicted from his private room after having his tracheostomy tube removed. Major Knox wouldn’t find
it so amusing though, thought Sally, turning round to check on him. He was snoozing on his bed with his newspaper on his chest, and thank the good Lord for that, or there would have been
trouble.

‘Be careful,’ she murmured unrolling the gauze along the table and then taking the scissors to cut it into squares. ‘Somebody might report you for swearing.’

Crump took one of the squares. ‘I know,’ she whispered, ‘it came out before I had time to think.’ She folded the gauze, raw edges to the middle, and then in half.
‘Is that all right?’

‘Aye, it is. Try to speed up a bit though. Let’s get as many done as we can, before we go off She gave the ghost of a smile, ‘And remember to be a bit more polite. You’re
on the officers’ ward now.’

‘Nurse, nurse,’ came Raynor’s voice, which might have been plaintive had he been able to wipe the grin off his face, ‘My water jug’s empty, I’ve dropped my
magazine on the floor, and it’s time I had my glass of port. Chief’s orders.’