Whispers of Love (2 page)

‘It is nothing of the sort,' she told him hotly.

‘Christabel, you have no experience of being out in the world. Nursing may appear to be a
very worthwhile occupation, but I can assure you it is not something you will enjoy doing. It's not simply a matter of dressing up in a cap and apron, you know. You would soon discover that you have to do some very distasteful jobs, and that's presuming you could find a hospital that would employ you.'

‘And the kind of people you might have to look after are not at all the sort of people you are used to coming into contact with, darling,' Mabel Montgomery shuddered.

‘Think of all the blood,' Lilian exclaimed dramatically, screwing up her round, pretty face in horror.

‘I know all that,' Christabel conceded, ‘but there is probably going to be a war very soon and a great many more nurses will be needed so I imagine they will be crying out for people to join them to care for the soldiers when they are brought home injured.'

‘That may be true,' her father admitted, ‘there very well might be a war. If there is, then they will want experienced nurses in the military hospitals; women who are strong enough to deal not only with men who may have lost an arm or a leg but also with those who have suffered disfigurement or other gruesome injuries.'

‘All the more reason for me to do something about it right away and get some proper training before the war really gets started,' Christabel said, her mouth tightening stubbornly.

‘I am sure your intentions are very worthy,' her mother said worriedly, ‘but I don't really think that Philip would have approved of you becoming a nurse, do you?'

‘I think he would have been very proud of me; it is because of him that I have decided that it's the right thing to do. He would think it was far better for me to be doing something so very worthwhile than to be sitting around moping over what has happened to him,' Christabel defended.

‘Oh, my poor girl; I'm afraid you are only talking like this because of the shock and grief you've suffered.' Mabel sighed. ‘Leave things as they are for a few months and I am sure we can find some other little job you can do; something far more suitable. Now ring the bell for Mary to come and clear the dishes away, darling.'

‘Your mother is right,' Basil boomed. He took a sip of his wine. ‘What about the three of you – Lilian, your mother and you – all going on a pleasant cruise for a couple of weeks?'

‘A cruise after Philip has been drowned at sea? Do you think I could bring myself to travel on a boat after that?' Christabel asked aghast, her blue eyes flashing angrily.

Mabel laid a cautionary finger on her lips as her husband was about to reply and signalled with her head towards Mary, who had entered the room and was clearing the table.

They talked about inconsequential matters
until she'd cleared away their main course and served desert and coffee, then once again Basil Montgomery picked up the threads of their discussion.

This time he went into considerable detail about the strict routine that going out to work would entail. ‘It's not only a matter of punctuality, or the length of time you would be expected to work, but also about conforming to the instructions you would receive and the duties that would be expected of you,' he emphasised.

‘I am well aware of all that,' Christabel assured him. ‘I know it would be a very different way of life from the one I am used to, but I feel it would be far more worthwhile.'

‘Well, I am of the opinion that in no time at all you would find it most distasteful,' he told her as he stirred a spoonful of brown sugar into his coffee.

‘Not if I am convinced that what I am doing is necessary and of some importance,' Christabel insisted.

‘Becoming a nurse and being at the beck and call of doctors and patients can hardly be considered to be of very much importance,' he told her disparagingly.

Their argument continued for the rest of the evening, becoming more and more heated until Mabel declared she could stand it no longer and they must desist, and talk about something else, or she would be forced to go to bed.

‘There's no need for you to do that, Mother,' Christabel told her. ‘I'm going up to my room so that I can do something positive about my decision. I intend to write a letter to the matron of our nearby hospital – the Wallasey Cottage Hospital in Liscard Road – and ask if she will employ me.'

‘She'll probably tell you that with your lack of experience you are only suitable to be a ward maid or a cleaner of some sort,' her father told her scathingly.

Christabel hesitated, wondering if it would be better to tell them the truth, which was that she thought she might be expecting Philip's baby, rather than take such a dramatic step as leaving home. Then the thought of how shocked they both would be deterred her.

After all, she told herself, I might not be pregnant. Feeling unwell might be a reaction to the news of Philip's death.

 

A week later, when war was much more of a possibility and most people realised that it seemed to be inevitable, her father seemed to relent somewhat.

‘If you are still insisting on this headstrong idea of becoming a nurse, perhaps you would like me to make some enquiries for you?' he offered.

‘There's no need, as I have already applied,' Christabel told him, ‘and I received a letter this morning to say that my name was forwarded
to the matron of a new hospital which is being opened at Hilbury.'

‘Hilbury?' He frowned, ‘Where on earth is that?'

‘Somewhere between Liverpool and South-port,' Christabel said as she scanned the letter she was holding. ‘It is being made ready to receive casualties should there be a war. It also says that they would like me to report there for an interview and they have sent a map to show me how to get there.'

‘So you are determined to go ahead with this idea?' her father said worriedly.

‘Of course I am!'

She felt elated but nervous because she knew it was a very decisive step she was taking, but she was convinced that it was the best thing to do. She was still feeling unwell and if she was pregnant, then it was best that she moved away from home before it was discovered.

When, once again, her parents tried to talk her out of committing herself, pointing out the many pitfalls and drawbacks she would be bound to experience, she refused to listen.

‘You've told me all these things several times before,' she reminded them. ‘It is something I am determined to do, so please don't keep putting obstacles in my way.'

 

The interview was purely perfunctory. They were anxious to find staff for the hospital as soon as possible and even when she explained
that she had no previous nursing experience this did not seem to matter.

‘You will live in at the hospital and during your first six weeks you will receive intensive training,' the matron said. ‘Providing you pass the examination at the end of that period, you will be accepted as an auxiliary nurse.'

When she told her parents her news over dinner that night they were both aghast at the idea of her actually leaving home.

‘We've been talking of nothing else for the past weeks,' she said exasperatedly. ‘Surely you both realised I would be going ahead with the idea?'

‘We went along with the idea only because we felt it kept your mind occupied and stopped you grieving about Philip,' her mother said quickly.

Christabel felt bewildered. ‘War is imminent, you know that and what I am going to do could be very important,' she pointed out.

‘If there is a war, then surely you can see that your duty is to stay at home and help look after your sister and provide comfort to your mother,' her father reminded her.

She looked from one to the other in dismay. Her parents both sounded so old and yet her father wasn't even sixty. As far as she was aware he'd never had a day's illness in his life and even though his hair had a touch of grey at the temples, his blue eyes were as clear and bright as her own. As for her mother, she was a few
years younger than him and there was no trace of grey in her thick dark hair, and her rounded face was unwrinkled.

It would be at least another ten years before they needed her to be there to look after them and until that day came she wanted to have a life of her own.

The wards at Hilbury Military Hospital radiated from a central core like the legs of a spider. The entire structure was of prefabricated, corrugated asbestos and tin and when it rained the noise inside was deafening.

The hospital was custom-built and was situated on the outskirts of Liverpool. Apart from the doctors, nurses, clerks, orderlies and those who drove the ambulances, it was staffed by men from the Pioneer Corps. Until it became fully operational, local people were hired to undertake the cleaning and cooking.

At first Christabel found the starkness, the noise as trolleys were wheeled around, and the constant bustle almost unbearable. The strong smell of antiseptic made her feel queasy, especially first thing in the morning.

After the first few bewildering days of settling in, however, she gradually accepted it, even though it was vastly different from what she was used to.

The rules were strict from the moment the new trainees arrived. All thirty of them assembled in the large lecture hall and were told that the next six weeks of intensive training were
going to be very hard work indeed. They would be expected to attend lectures every day and there would be severe penalties if they were absent for any reason at all.

At the end of the welcome speech the matron handed them over to the care of Sister Speakley, a grey-haired martinet whose steel-rimmed glasses gave her a sharp, owl-like appearance.

‘Sister Speakley will be responsible for your physical welfare as well as your training so if you have any problems at all, then go to her and she will help you resolve them,' Matron told them before she left the room.

Sister Speakley took her place in front of the class and informed them in a no-nonsense tone that she expected high standards from all of them and that they must be neatly dressed at all times. She ended her talk by informing them that they would be sharing accommodation and there would be two girls to each room.

Girls who already knew each other immediately paired up and the rest tried to select the person they thought would be most compatible. Christabel had never before had to share a bedroom with anyone, not even for a night, and when she found herself with a plump, bubbly, red-headed girl called Peggy Wilson she felt extremely apprehensive.

In next to no time, however, they had settled in. She found that there was a surprisingly easygoing comradeship between the two of them and that she quite enjoyed Peggy's company.
Even so, she refrained from sharing too many confidences with her.

War on Germany was officially declared within a month of Christabel's arrival at Hilbury. This factor made those in authority extremely anxious to ensure that the new recruits worked hard to complete their training and qualify as auxiliary nurses, and also that they were prepared to sign an official form to say that they would stay on as permanent staff.

Much as she wanted to do so, Christabel hesitated. She wasn't sure that she could stay there – at least, not permanently – and she didn't know what to do or say to Sister Speakley to explain the situation.

Ever since she had arrived at Hilbury she'd felt nauseous each morning and although it wore off during the day she knew now for certain that she was pregnant and that the situation was serious.

She tried to put it to the back of her mind and to concentrate on the training, which, because of the fact that war had been declared, had been extended to ensure that they were thoroughly competent to work on the wards.

They received a lecture from Dr Murray who was in overall charge of one of the sections of the hospital. He was in his early thirties, good-looking, with thick fair hair and brown eyes and, in many ways, reminded her so much of Philip that she found it hard to concentrate on what he was saying.

At the end of the lecture he waited until she was about to leave the room, then called her over.

‘Did you find my lecture boring?' he asked in clipped tones.

‘Good heavens, no.' Christabel stared at him, wide-eyed. She wanted to tell him that she had been captivated by every word he'd uttered, but she felt too tongue-tied to do so.

‘You didn't appear to be taking very much notice of what I was saying.' He frowned. ‘In fact, you seemed to be in a dream most of the time.'

Christabel felt the colour rushing to her face. ‘I'm sorry, Dr Murray. You are right, but I was concentrating on what you were saying; I didn't let my thoughts wander.'

Before she could hold them back, tears were streaming down her face and he stared at her in bewilderment.

‘I know my lectures are good, but they have never had this effect on anyone before,' he joked.

When she told him that his resemblance to Philip, her fiancé who had been drowned at sea just a few months before they had planned to be married, had awakened feelings and memories that she'd tried to put behind her, he looked discomfited.

‘Mop your eyes and then you can tell me about him . . . that's if you want to,' he told her brusquely as he handed her a large white handkerchief.

He listened attentively as she told him all about Philip and the plans they'd had for their future together, as well as the battle she'd had with her parents when she'd said she wanted to become a nurse. The only thing she omitted was the fact that she was pregnant; she let him assume that her hesitancy to sign the agreement to stay on at Hilbury was because of the duty she felt towards taking care of her mother.

‘Why let that deter you?'

‘Well, you might not be agreeable to my going home to look after her, especially if I had to do so in a hurry,' she said lamely.