Secret for a Nightingale (41 page)

“Yes. You are moving nurses willy-nilly without considering what work they may be doing.”

“I know what work they are doing.”

“And despise those menial tasks. But Dr. Adair, I assure you they have to be done and doctors should be grateful to Miss Nightingale for all she has achieved.”

“Thank you. Miss er for reminding me of my duty.”

“There is one nurse, Ethel Carter. She is being moved. She must not be.”

He raised his eyebrows and those dark luminous eyes surveyed me. I could not fathom what they expressed. Cynical amusement, perhaps.

“Let me explain,” I said.

“I must beg you to.”

“She has formed an attachment with a young soldier. His condition has improved greatly and she herself is much better. They cannot be separated.”

“This is a hospital, not a marriage bureau. Miss erAs you seem to have such difficulty with my name, let me tell you it is Pleydell.”

“Ah … Miss Pleydell.”

“And I do not think this place is a marriage bureau. I have been here long enough to know what it is. It is a place of great suffering.” I was furious with myself because my voice broke. I had to fight hard not to show my emotion.

“If a soldier can be made happier isn’t that part of his recovery? Of course, I suppose that is something you do not believe in.”

“How do you know what I believe? You take a great deal upon yourself.

Miss Pleydell. “

“Is it a great deal to ask? Just that this nurse should not be moved?”

“If her name is on the list for the Barrack she should go.”

“And what about this soldier who would have given his life for his country and perhaps has … what of him? Is he to have

no consideration because some demi-god has made out a list? “

His lips curled faintly. I think he rather liked the idea of being called a demi-god, seeing himself supreme, no doubt.

“Listen to me,” I went on, growing more and more angry every moment. I had my enemy before me, the man I had planned to destroy, and how I wanted to! I hated his supercilious smile. He was taunting me, amused by my passion, urging me to hurl more and more abuse at him, which he believed I would regret later.

“I can hardly do anything else,” he reminded me, ‘short of leaving you, which might be considered somewhat impolite. “

I went on: “The soldier was brought in from Sebastopol. He was almost frozen to death. It was believed he could not last more than a few days. Ethel Carter looked after him and a special relationship grew up between them. Since then he has started to recover. I can tell you that she has had an unhappy life. She lost a child.” My voice faltered again.

“They are planning to make a life together. They are helping each other. They cannot be separated. Oh, I know you don’t understand this. You are far too clever to understand the simple things in life.

When you are tired of it you just go off . you leave others to carry on while you indulge yourself in fancy costumes in some . “

“Yes?” he said.

“Do go on. Where do I indulge myself?”

“You know very well. I, fortunately, am ignorant of these places and wish to remain so.”

“Ignorance is not something the wise desire.”

“It is a joke to you. But there are other means of healing than those you practise. There is happiness … contentment, hope for the future. They are as effective as medicines. Oh, I know it is foolish to appeal to you, and over something which you would consider of no importance. You are hard and ruthless and human suffering means nothing to you.”

“I did not know we were so well acquainted,” he said.

“I don’t understand you.”

“And yet you have given a detailed account of my character.”

I felt numb with dismay, horror and frustration. What had I done? Just succeeded in making a fool of myself.

I turned and went from the room.

I returned to my duties, my cheeks burning and my eyes blazing. I was near to tears.

Why had I said all that? All the hatred had come tumbling out and he had stood there laughing at me. He was wicked. He was cruel. He cared nothing for people’s feelings. They were objects to be used; their bodies were to be experimented on so that he could acquire experience and astonish the world with his knowledge. If only I could bring him crashing from his pedestal. If only I could show the world what he really was!

It was the next day when I saw Eliza in the kitchens.

She said: “The swap’s been made. Our lot’s gone to Barrack and the Barrack lot are now in the General.” She gave me a nudge.

“Ethel’s still here. She ain’t half glad about that.

“Er and Tom is having a special cuddle.” She winked at me.

“Spoke to him, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

She started to laugh.

“There! I told you you could do it.”

“It might not have been that. He didn’t say he would help. In fact he implied quite the opposite.”

ThenI’ said Eliza with a reminiscent grin.

“Some of them is like that.

High and mighty and all that. Still, what’s it matter? You done it.

”

She looked at me solemnly for a moment.

“Gawd bless you, Anna. I ‘ope it comes right for you. You wants some little ‘uns, that’s what you want… like Ethel. There’s some as does and some as don’t and you two are ones that does.”

That was a terrible winter. I hope never to see another like it.

I thought constantly of those poor men on the plateau outside Sebastopol longing for the surrender which must come; but they would reflect that those inside the city although doom was inevitable did not suffer the hardships of the besiegers.

A sickness which some called Asiatic Cholera and others simply Gaol Fever struck the army. I used to see the men arrive in arahas, which were a kind of Turkish tumbril. Many of the men were dead when they were brought in. It was

heartbreaking to see the Turkish workmen digging graves great holes into which the bodies were thrown.

Some of the nurses caught the fever. It raged through the hospital and we were all living in fear of imminent death.

It was a wonderful sight to see Miss Nightingale take her nightly walk through the wards. She looked beautiful and serene in her black woollen dress with the white linen collar and cuffs and apron, and white cap under a black silk handkerchief, holding her lamp high, stopping at a bed here and there to touch a fevered brow, to utter a word of comfort, to smile and somehow bring a message of hope. She was regarded as a being from another world, an angel. Those men were very much aware of what she had done for their comfort. It was amusing to see how those who had hardly uttered a sentence in their lives which did not contain some obscenity, moderated their language when Miss Nightingale was near. She was indomitable; she had a presence and grace and beauty; plainly clad as she was, that was obvious. She commanded instant respect and adoration.

I shall always feel privileged to have worked close to her.

Even that terrible winter had to pass and with the coming of the spring fewer casualties were arriving at the hospital.

There was fresh hope in the air.

They cannot hold out much longer, everyone said.

I saw less of Henrietta. During those dark winter months we were working every hour of the day and well into the night and when we snatched a little rest we sank into an exhausted sleep.

Philippe Lablanche was a frequent visitor to the hospital. He often came to look for me and exchanged a few words; and I knew he did the same with Henrietta. Charles made a point of coming into the General to see me when he could, but like all doctors, he was even more busy than we were.

Sometimes he would say: “Still thinking?” and I would answer: “Yes.”

And there were times when I thought I was foolish to hesitate. I had the chance to share the life of a good man. I could even be of use to

him in his work. I was no longer a wide-eyed girl. I knew something of marriage. I wasn’t looking for a knight in shining armour to carry me off on his steed. I had the opportunity to share a life which would be interesting and rewarding.

But I continued to hesitate.

The coming of the Crimean spring was a tonic to us all. It gave us hope to see crocuses and hyacinths growing on the plateau.

News of conditions at the front and in the hospitals had been sent home by war correspondents and there had been an outcry in the press.

One of the good things which came out of this was that Monsieur Alexis Soyer, the renowned chef of the Reform Club, came out to supervise the kitchens. How we blessed Monsieur Soyer! He was dedicated to his art;

he chose soldiers who he thought had some talent for cooking and took them into his kitchens; he trained them to produce excellent and nourishing stews. He would go through the wards with his men carrying big soup tureens and he was cheered by the invalids as it was ladled out. He made good bread, and he invented a teapot which held enough to serve fifty men, and the beverage was as hot for the fiftieth as it was for the first. Monsieur Soyer made a great difference to our lives.

We had a little free time now and then but my periods of freedom did not always coincide with those of Henrietta. We were almost light-hearted during those spring days. We had come through the winter and Sebastopol could not possibly survive another. We told ourselves that this time next year we should all be home.

An amusing incident happened at this time. A very pompous gentleman arrived at the hospital with two grand servants in gold braid, wide trousers and gold-coloured cummerbunds.

He was very excited and we could not understand what he was talking about until someone thought of calling Dr. Adair.

I was hoping that he would not understand the language ‘for,” as I remarked to Henrietta, ‘we have only his word for it that he is master of all these Eastern tongues.”

He did understand and he and the pompous gentleman entered into a serious conversation.

Several of the nurses had gathered to see what the outcome would be myself, Henrietta and Eliza among them.

At length Dr. Adair turned to us and said: “I think I should see Miss Nightingale immediately. This gentleman on behalf of his very rich and distinguished master is offering a good deal of money for one of the nurses who would be added to the distinguished gentleman’s harem.”

We stared at him in astonishment.

“I wonder which one it is,” he added.

“It will be interesting to know.”

We did not have to wait long for the gentleman, smiling broadly, stepped towards us. He approached Henrietta and bowed to her. Then he turned and addressed himself to Dr. Adair.

“So you are the elect,” said Dr. Adair to Henrietta. I saw the speculation in his eyes as though he was wondering what special qualities Henrietta had to appeal to the oriental taste. She must have been seen somewhere. I did know that she had dined out with Philippe Lablanche.

Henrietta was most amused.

She said: “What will you tell him?”

“That you are not for sale.”

“Won’t that offend him?”

“I will explain tactfully. Perhaps that you are already spoken for.”

Henrietta giggled.

“I’ve often wondered what it would be like to find myself in a sultan’s harem.”

“You might not enjoy it as much as you think. Now it would be polite if you retired and left me to deal with the matter. I shall need great tact. He must not be slighted in any way.”

We left. I noticed that people glanced at Henrietta. It did not surprise me in the least that she was the chosen one. She was far prettier than any of us; and she was more vivacious too; it was obvious that she would attract attention.

“You will have to be careful,” I told her.

“He might decide to kidnap you.”

About a week after that there was evidently more activity at Sebastopol and the wounded were coming in in large numbers.

When we saw the arab as approaching the hospital we nurses went out with the men who carried the stretchers to try to make the wounded as comfortable as possible while they were being carried in.

This was always a heartrending job. I dreaded it; but I was accustomed to horrific sights now and although they affected me as deeply as ever, I was at least prepared for them.

As I watched one poor man being lifted, groaning, on to a stretcher I thought he had a familiar look. Dirty and unkempt, his jacket bloodstained, he looked like so many of these poor men; and yet there was something about him.

Then I knew, and my heart leaped and then sank in horror, for this young man was Lily’s husband, William Clift.

“Oh God,” I prayed, ‘don’t let him die. “

I thought of Lily and her delight in her baby; I could imagine her at home waiting for news. It must not be news of her husband’s death. She had had such hopes of happiness. I remembered the change in her, the day when she had told us that she was going to marry William; and then the coming of the baby.

“Please don’t let the baby be an orphan,” I prayed.

“Don’t let Lily be a widow.”

But how many widows and orphans must there be because of this stupid, senseless war!

“But not Lily,” I continued to pray.

“Not Lily.”

I went into the ward and looked for him. It took me a long time but at last I found him.

I knelt by his bed. I said: “William, do you know who I am?”

It seemed as though he was listening but his eyes did not focus on me.

I feared he might be half dead already.

“William,” I went on, ‘it’s Anna Pleydell. Lily’s friend. “

“Lily,” he murmured and I think he was trying to smile.

“Don’t die,” I muttered to myself.

“You mustn’t die. You’ve got to get well. There are Lily and the baby.”

But I was terribly afraid.

I went into the small room which I used as a sort of refuge.

3ii

It seemed to have a special significance since Charles had asked me to marry him there. And it was there that I had talked to Dr. Adair and persuaded him not to part Ethel from her Tom. Some instinct led me there. I knew I had to find Damien Adair, for ironically enough I had the idea that he alone could help.