For King and Country (26 page)

‘I don’t know what’s going on here,’ the head laundress told her, taking drawsheets and pillowslips off an enormous pile. ‘I distinctly remember putting the key on
that hook, and now I can’t find it.’

‘Haven’t they got a duplicate?’ Sally asked.

‘They’ve got one in the admin block, but I’ll get wrong if I have to go and ask for it,’ the woman said.

‘Oh, dear,’ Sally sympathized and, errand accomplished, was just coming away when she bumped into Elinor.

‘Oh, Sally, fancy seeing you! Are you still on the officers’ ward?’

Sally, indeed! Sally felt a little stab of annoyance. Here, in this place, she was Nurse Wilde to everybody, even including the doctors, but Elinor had to chop her down to size by calling her
Sally. She wouldn’t have dared do it if Matron or any of the sisters had been there, and if she had, Sally would have got wrong off them for letting her. She ought to tell her to chalk it out
and insist on her proper title. Ought to – but the thought of Elinor going home and telling them all how much ‘edge’ that Sally Wilde had got since she started nursing deterred
her, and she couldn’t force the words out. Instead, she gritted her teeth and smiled, backing away all the while, and clutching her parcel of clean linen to her breast. ‘Oh, hello,
Elinor. No, I’m on the children’s ward. Sorry I haven’t got time to talk, we’re very busy.’

‘Why, what a shame, Sally man. And a shame you’ve left the officers’ ward, an’ all. You might have seen our new lodger if you’d still been there, and by, he’s
a good-looking lad. He’s an Australian, says he’s come up to visit an old mate of his that’s on 7a.’

Sally blanched, and returned to her ward almost at a run. Maxfield was the only ‘Australian’ on that ward. She’d have to find Crump before she went to bed, ask her to tell him
to expect his old Australian ‘mate’, and hope he’d keep out of the way until the danger was passed.

‘We shouldn’t be in this mess very long,’ Sister Davies told Sally when she and the night sister took the report. ‘The war’s over, we’ll
soon be getting some of our nurses back from France and all the colonial soldiers will be repatriated. The work’ll ease up a bit then.’

Sally saw a wry smile on the night sister’s face. ‘Jam tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard that cry ever since I started. We’re always going to get more staff
soon, but it never seems to materialize. And if ever there are fewer patients, they soon cut the number of nurses to suit. It’s always jam tomorrow, and never jam today, and it’ll never
be any different, if you ask me.’

Sister Davies sat bolt upright in her chair. ‘I should think it’s true this time, though, although it hardly matters to me. They’ll have to put me out to grass before long or
I’ll drop in harness. Well,’ she turned to Sally, ‘we’ve had one or two changes on this ward since you left, Nurse, although we’ve still got Lieutenant Raynor, and
Major Knox, and Second Lieutenant Maxfield and a couple of others you know.’

Sally nodded. ‘I’m just a bit surprised to be sent back, you know Sister, after . . .’

‘Needs must, when the devil drives,’ the night sister said.

‘You’re a good worker, Wilde, and you know the ward better than any of the others who could have been spared, that’s why I asked for you. This is your first spell on nights, so
I’ll make it clear.’ Sister Davies straightened herself up again, and with a warning glance in the night sister’s direction said, ‘The night staff are here to carry out the
orders of the day sisters, so you do everything just as
I
like it done, and you know how that is. I’ll do a round with you before I go off, and the night sister will help you if you
get stuck. All right?’

Sally nodded.

‘It won’t be for long, and don’t worry. I’ve had a little talk with a certain person.’

‘How is Second Lieutenant Maxfield?’

‘Seems very low since the Armistice. Nothing for him here, and nothing much to go back home to, I suppose. Bad job he got that letter from his wife, just when he needed her to stand by
him. It must have been a bit of a blow, that, and the sight of his face, and one or two other things,’ and she looked up at Sally with an expression that implied: one of them being that he
found no favour with you.

With her heart in her mouth, Sally put a cautious feeler out. ‘Shame he never gets any visitors to cheer him up a bit.’

‘I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to want company, apart from Lieutenant Raynor.’ Sister Davies made no reference to any Australian visitor, but went on with the report.
Nothing remarkable, but there were a couple of admissions and a patient in one of the single-bedded rooms had died and the day staff had performed the last offices.

During the round those patients who knew her seemed pleased to see her back, especially Raynor, who was very jovial. Even Major Knox exchanged a few pleasantries, but when they got to
Maxfield’s bed he hardly looked at her. To her enquiries about his health he gave a non-committal shrug, and as soon as they passed on the next patient he took himself off into the day
room.

They heard the porter rumbling up the corridor with the mortuary trolley just as the round was finished and Sister was leaving the ward. She gave Sally a nod. ‘Well,
I’ll leave you now, and I’m sure you’ll do all right. They’ve been warned to behave themselves.’

The porter pushed the trolley unceremoniously past them and into the single-bedded room. As Sister Davies left the ward Sally followed him to help him lift the dead officer. He covered the
corpse, and as they manoeuvred the trolley out of the door Sally’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of a giant of a man in Australian uniform striding towards her.

He opened his mouth, and she felt as if she were shooting down a steep dip on a roller coaster, leaving her stomach behind. In a fraction of a second he would announce in his loud Australian
voice, for all the world to hear, ‘I’ve come to see Lieutenant Maxfield.’ She let go of the trolley and moved swiftly towards him. Before he could say anything she asked, in the
softest tones, ‘Can I help you?’

He grinned and leaned down, raising his hand to turn an ear towards her. Keeping her voice very low, she added, ‘I’m sorry, the man in the next room has tetanus. Any noise might
start a convulsion. Try to speak softly.’

‘Ah! I understand, Nurse. I’ve come to see an old mate of mine – Kit Maxfield,’ he slurred, his breath stinking like a brewery. The impostor Maxfield chose that selfsame
moment to appear at the door of the day room and stand there as if he’d taken root, showing no inclination to get out of the way or go and hide himself, but staring steadily at her with his
clear, hazel eye as if inviting her to betray him. She stared back with a creeping, intensifying thrill in the throb of her heart, and her eyes widened in warning. Then she tore her gaze from his
and looked towards the fast disappearing mortuary trolley.

The Australian’s eyes followed hers, then, ‘Hawkins is the name,’ he said, ‘Corporal Hawkins.’

Sally’s face fell into an expression of the deepest regret. ‘Oh, how terrible!’ she murmured, still looking towards the trolley. ‘Oh, I am sorry, Corporal Hawkins, really
sorry . . .’

He watched the trolley vanish into the main corridor, and then turned again to Sally, evidently expecting the worst.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated, with the sham Lieutenant Maxfield still looking at her, ‘If only you’d come sooner! I’m afraid Lieutenant Maxfield is
dead.’ She said it with utter conviction, because it was the truth. The impostor raised his eyebrow, appearing quite detached, as if he were a mere spectator at this unfolding drama.

Corporal Hawkins seemed stunned into silence by the news. Glancing at Will, Sally said, ‘I can see it’s an awful shock.’

‘Bloody hell, bloody hell!’ Corporal Hawkins was suddenly more sober and less genial. ‘When? When did he die?’

‘Before I came on duty. About an hour ago, I think. From Spanish Influenza,’ Sally lied.

‘Poor bastard! If only I hadn’t gone to the other infirmary first. If only I hadn’t let them take me for a beer . . .’

‘You weren’t to know,’ Sally said, and after a pause, ‘He showed me a letter from his wife a few weeks ago. It seems she left him for another man.’

Hawkins expression darkened. ‘That b . . .? She never did him any good. Trust her to play him foul. Probably her bloody fault he gave up and died.’

‘She’s recorded in his notes as his next of kin, and we’ve no forwarding address for her. Maybe you know his mother’s address.’

‘He’s got no family.’

‘No mother and father? Nobody?’

‘No. After they died, he sold everything up and came out to Australia. He’s got – he had, no family.’

‘Oh, dear. Nobody to write to, then,’ said Sally. ‘Not nice letters to write though, are they? Nobody likes to hurt a family.’

‘We were his family,’ the corporal said, and with a strangled sob added, ‘We were his family and he never let us down.’ He leaned against the wall, and wiped his cheek
with his sleeve, then fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. ‘He never let his mates down, poor bastard. I’d better go and have a last look at him.’

Ugh! Her heart nearly stopped altogether at that, but like lightning she blurted, ‘I don’t think you’d recognize him, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted you to
see him. I think he lost interest in living after he’d seen his face.’ She paused for breath, and added, in more measured tones, ‘It was a terrible mess, you know. Awful.’
She’d let her tongue run away with her and shot an agonized glance at Will, looking for his reaction.

He seemed unperturbed. ‘Like mine,’ he said softly, lifting his dressing to show Hawkins the wreckage underneath. ‘If not worse.’

The corporal looked at him aghast, Sally in amazement.

It took her a moment or two to recover, then, ‘He kept out of sight as far as he could,’ she went on, ‘hated being looked at.’

‘Wait a minute,’ said Will, and sticking his dressing back down he disappeared into the ward.

‘Poor, poor . . .’ the corporal said.

Sally touched his sleeve, and repeated, ‘I’m really sorry.’

Will soon returned and put Maxfield’s wristwatch, cigarette case and medal into the corporal’s hands. ‘If you were his family, he’d want you to have these,’ he
said. ‘The authorities can have his papers.’

The corporal gazed at the medal for a moment. ‘A lot of bloody good that did him,’ he choked, tucking the things safely into his pocket. ‘Thanks, mate.’

Will nodded, and returned to the day room.

‘I’m sure it’s better to remember your friend as he was,’ Sally whispered, and added, ‘If I wasn’t so busy, I’d make you some tea, but we’re short
staffed with this awful ’flu, and I’m on my own, you see, and we have some very poorly patients. I’m going to be run off my feet getting them all settled down for the
night.’

‘It’s all right. I think I’ll take your advice, Nurse, and skip the goodbyes. The sooner I get away from this place and back to Australia, the better I’ll be
pleased.’

Amen to that, she thought, watching him stride out of the ward, praying to God he wouldn’t change his mind and ask to see the corpse. She wished him on the boat that very minute with a
fair wind behind him, before he stumbled on the truth and opened his big Australian mouth.

Such lies she’d told! And they’d sprung so easily to her lips, those inventions! And how odd was that fluttering still in the pit of her stomach, a sort of – exhilaration
– and not entirely unpleasant. But she’d no time to think any more about it, for here was Dr Campbell just turning into the corridor.

Sally swiftly unwound the bandages, and ugh! that stench you could taste rose to her nostrils as she uncovered an amputated thigh with two inches of bone protruding from the
slimy, disintegrating flesh.

‘Oh, good God!’ Dr Campbell exclaimed, and then recovered himself and looked directly into the young patient’s dull eyes. ‘Now then, young man, where do you
live?’

‘Blyth, sir.’

‘You needn’t “sir” me. I’m not an army doctor. Get his address, and tell Sister to send a telegram to his parents tomorrow, Nurse,’ he said. And turning again
to the patient asked, ‘Who did this?’

‘I don’t know. It got lopped off with a guillotine in a Canadian hospital in Etaples. I wish I’d died.’

‘You won’t be dying, not if we have anything to do with it, but there’s some work to be done. The nurse is going to keep syringing your stump with hypochlorite solution
tonight, and tomorrow we’ll take you to theatre and put an antiseptic dressing on. As soon as we get the flesh healthy and clean a
competent
surgeon will re-amputate – either
me, or the chief. Irrigate every four hours, Nurse, without fail, and do all the usual observations.’

‘Yes, Doctor,’ said Sally, glad to play her part. Whatever else he might be, Campbell was a brilliant doctor and inspiring to work for. Nothing could take that away from him.

He looked again into the patient’s pale face. ‘Don’t worry; we’re going to get you right. And whoever did this will be brought to book. I’ll see to that.’

‘What a disgusting mess,’ he told Sally, leading her, as the chief was wont to do, away from the patient’s bed and towards the fireplace in the centre of the ward, there to
discuss the case. ‘Whoever did that must have been drunk, or blind. He ought to be struck off.’

‘He’s from Blyth,’ said Sally, thinking of the patient, ‘so his parents live quite near. They should be able to come and see him pretty regularly. And the other
lad’s from Benwell – even nearer.’

‘Well, the war’s over now, Nurse. No reason not to send them to the nearest hospital to their homes, is there?’

‘Their families aren’t going to delay their recovery then, now we’ve signed the Armistice?

‘I suspect not. There isn’t the same incentive to drag convalescence out forever, and only a fool would desert now the war’s over.

‘So we’ll get more and more local lads.’

‘Yes. All those released from German prisoner of war camps, of course, and some transferred from other hospitals. Now don’t look so worried. We’re bound to lose some in the
exchange.’

She nodded, but her expression didn’t brighten.