For King and Country (21 page)

They were coming to the end of the avenue of trees lining the approach to the nurses’ home, and without a word he took hold of her hand to stop her going any further.

‘Well, it’s all too late to mend now,’ she said, ‘but just get it through your head, Will. I never left you any white feather.’

‘So you keep saying.’

‘I keep saying it because it’s true,’ she said. ‘Anyway, what shall I call you, supposing we ever meet again?’

‘Call me Lieutenant Maxfield, or Max if you want to get familiar. That’s the name Maxfield’s wife put on her letter. That’s who I seem to be now, if anybody.’

‘All right,’ she said. A wave of weariness engulfed her, making her almost too stunned to think, but a queer idea took shape from that fog of fatigue: two Christophers lives were
hanging in the balance, and if the child survived, so would the man. She would say a prayer when she got back to her room, for both of them. She turned towards the nurses’ home.

‘Don’t go in yet. Come for a walk with me in the park.’

‘What, in this lot? We’d never find our way back again if it came down any thicker. Anyway, I can’t go another step. I’ll have to go in. For one thing I’m dead
tired, and for another, it’s the rules.’

‘Oh, aye. The Rules. Let’s not forget them,’ he said.

Sally clutched the letter to her chest, crumpling it in her hands. Thank God. Oh, good. Good, good, good, good, good.

‘You’re wanted in Matron’s office immediately, Nurse. There’s somebody waiting to see you,’ Sister Harding told her when she reported on duty.

Nobody was ever wanted in Matron’s office, unless it was something dire. ‘What’s wrong, Sister?’

‘I’m no wiser than you. You’d better go and find out.’

Sally walked swiftly along to the administrative block, her guilty mind racing ahead of her. She shivered, and her teeth almost started to chatter at the thought of discovery. No, that was no
good. She took a couple of deep breaths and pulling herself up to her full height, swept through the teak- and leather-panelled hall and along the corridor to Matron’s office, hoping for the
best. Hoping it would be a complaint from a patient, or a relative.

She tapped on the door. ‘Come in!’ The voice didn’t sound at all ominous. Sally opened the door, to see Matron sitting beaming behind her desk, with Mrs Lowery sitting opposite
her, nearest the door.

‘Mrs Lowery’s called to tell us about our patient’s progress, Nurse,’ she said.

Mrs Lowery rose to greet Sally. ‘More than that,’ she said. ‘To give my thanks to both of you.’

An unwelcome sight, Mrs Lowery, but Sally’s face registered nothing but relief that it was she and not the police, either civil or military. ‘Christopher must be doing all right,
then?’ she said.

‘Yes. Yes, he is, although he’ll be in hospital for at least another two weeks, the doctors say. The danger to his heart, you know. But how kind of you to show such concern . .
.’ Mrs Lowery’s eyes widened and met Sally’s for a fraction of a second before she turned to Matron. ‘I hope you’ll accept my apologies for bringing Christopher here,
but a mother’s feelings, you know, and I was in such a panic. And you, Nurse Wilde, I’d like to give you a small token of my thanks for what you did.’

She held out a small, beautifully wrapped box, with a smile that crinkled the skin round her soft blue eyes and curved her lips until they just showed the tips of her even teeth. And had she
offered her envelope and its feather to Will Burdett with just such a smile, Sally wondered, as he stood all unsuspecting on her doorstep?

She shot a glance towards Matron, and kept her hands firmly by her sides. ‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Lowery, but we’re not allowed to accept anything from the patients, it’s
the Rule.’

Mrs Lowery’s pretty face suddenly looked as if it had been slapped as she stood there with her hand still foolishly outstretched. She appealed to Matron. ‘But he isn’t a
patient now. Not here, anyway.’

And Sally knew by Matron’s approving smile that she was going to open her mouth and say something like, ‘You may accept it, Nurse Wilde, on this occasion.’ But Sally was too
quick for her, ‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Lowery, it makes no difference. I did no more than my duty, and I don’t want any more than the wages I’m paid.’

That familiar frown passed over Mrs Lowery’s face, and disappeared. ‘But if you hadn’t . . . Please, take it.’

With a smile that did not reach her eyes, Sally stood firm. ‘Christopher’s getting better, and that’s enough reward for me.’

Mrs Lowery put the package on Matron’s desk. ‘I’ll leave it for you.’

Patient or no, rule or no, Matron’s approval or no, Sally was determined she would take nothing. With eyes like flint she looked full into Mrs Lowery’s face. ‘No. You
mustn’t. I cannot accept it. Really.’

Matron looked more satisfied than ever, and Mrs Lowery looked humiliated. Sally left the office.

‘Do you remember that young lad who came to your house looking for me, Mrs Lowery?’ she would have liked to have said. ‘Why, he’ll never come home again. The only small
token his mother got was the buff envelope telling her he was missing. She sent four bonny lads to France, and there’s not one of them left. Do you not think that’s a shame?’ Her
conscience would have done the rest, if she had a conscience. But that wasn’t very likely. Overwhelmed by the force her own vindictive feelings, and glad of that small chance she’d been
given to vent them, Sally walked back to the ward, grinding her teeth and wondering how she could call herself a Christian.

That evening in the chapel, she showed Will Ginny’s letter. When he handed it back she folded it carefully and put it back in her pocket. ‘I shan’t be coming here again,’
she said, ‘and maybes you’d better not, either. We’ve been caught twice and I’m not going to risk it again.’

‘No, you carry on coming, and I’ll stop. It would look even more fishy if neither of us came.’

She nodded. ‘I might. I’m not sure. Good luck, Will.’

‘Same to you. And, Sally – thanks.’

‘Indeed, I will not!’ Curran exclaimed.

‘Are you sure?’ Sally said, secretly glad that she would be the one to go, but putting up an argument for appearances’ sake. ‘You can borrow my cloak if you want to
change your mind. It would be a breath of fresh air, and grand to get away from the ward for half an hour.’

‘It would be a breath of smoke, and where would I be away to? To a fine old anti-popery party! No, Wilde, you go and burn the poor old papist yourself. I’ll stay here with the kids
who can’t go.’

‘Don’t be daft, Curran, I doubt if anybody really knows what the Guy’s supposed to be. It’s just a good bonfire and a few burned spuds for the bairns.’

Curran was adamant. ‘You go.’

So Sally threw on her cloak, and took hold of Mary’s wheelchair ‘All right, then. Ready, Mary?’

‘Aye, I am.’ Mary returned the smile, from her wrappings of dressing gown and blankets.

Louise was similarly bundled up, her upturned little face eager for the fun. ‘Isn’t it exciting, Nurse?’

‘Aye, it is,’ Sally said.

Her face fell when the Belgian porter arrived and took hold of her chair. ‘But I wanted you to push me, Nurse Wilde!’ she protested.

Sally looked at the porter’s rather forbidding face, as he steered Louise’s chair away regardless of her protests. Sally followed with Mary, and two other ambulant little patients in
train, out of the ward and into the throng of other children and their attendants, all making their way along the main corridor towards the bonfire.

‘We’ll swap chairs on the way back, shall we, Monsieur Dubois?’ she suggested, when they reached the conservatory and together began to lift Louise’s chair out of the
door and onto the field.

Taciturn as ever, Monsieur Dubois shrugged assent.

‘Do you know whose idea it was, the bonfire?’ Sally persisted, as they parked Louise just near enough to feel the warmth of the bonfire piled high and already blazing.

Another shrug, and then, ‘Some of ze officaires, I zink. I was ’ere when ze Zeppelins bomb ze shipyards. Zay would not ’ave ’ad a bonfire zen.’

‘Aye, well, the air force has put paid to the Zep raids for good now, haven’t they?’ said Sally, following him back into the conservatory. ‘Now they’ve flattened
the Zeppelin sheds at Tondern. And we’re well out of range of the Gotha bombers, thank the Lord. Your English is getting a lot better, Monsieur Dubois.’

‘Wait. I carry ze ’eavy end,’ he said, as they prepared to lift Mary’s chair.

‘Thank you.’

‘
Ҫa ne fait rien
.’

‘San fairy Ann,’ she laughed. ‘Well, I suppose that’s English now, in a way.’

‘That’s what some of the soldiers say, san fairy Ann,’ one of the children piped. ‘What does it mean?’

‘Eet doesen’t matair.’

The little boy looked puzzled. ‘He means that’s what san fairy Ann means, Jack,’ Sally explained. ‘It’s the same as saying it doesn’t matter.’

Sally sat with her other patients on a log beside the wheelchairs, to watch Lieutenant Raynor, and Will, no,
Maxfield
, and a couple of other officers tending the fire.

Maxfield stood well away, but Raynor eventually broke away from the group, and walked across to her.

‘They look as if they’re enjoying it.’ He nodded towards the children, their smiling faces illuminated in the glow.

‘Loving every minute,’ she assured him, rising to her feet. ‘Whose idea was it?’

‘Mine and Major Knox’s.’

‘Really?’ Sally tried to mask her surprise at the thought of crusty old Knox wanting to do something for the children, but Raynor saw through her.

‘His bark’s a lot worse than his bite, you know, and the children were just an excuse. Really, most of us are nothing but a lot of overgrown kids ourselves. Have you seen our Guy?
We’ve even got one or two potatoes burning in there as well, just for the spirit of the thing. Of course, they’ll be black on the outside and raw in the middle, so the kitchen staff
have promised to bring some decently cooked ones out soon, with a few sausages as well.’

‘I see everybody’s been doing their bit,’ she said, her eyes on Maxfield, now a black silhouette against the flames.

‘He’d have liked to come across to have a word, but he was afraid he might frighten the children. Or that’s his excuse,’ Raynor said, and there was something reproachful
in his voice. She flushed, as he went on, ‘Oh, here’s Dr Campbell, come to join the party. Excuse me, I want to have a word with him.’

Sally pulled her cloak around her and dragged her eyes away from Maxfield to resume her seat beside her charges who, round-eyed and smiling, were watching a couple of soldiers with a little
group of other children round them preparing to toss the Guy on the flames.

‘One, two, three,’ they shouted and up he went, with a resounding cheer from both men and children, and laughter from her charges.

‘You can have the potato, but not the sausage, Mary,’ she warned shortly afterwards, when the kitchen staff brought split baked potatoes and bits of well-cooked sausage round on
trays. Mary took only potato.

‘I can have everything, can’t I Nurse,’ Louise grinned, devouring food she’d have refused to eat on the ward, and with every appearance of relish. Sally was shaking her
head in wonder at the sight when Dr Campbell materialized from the shadows.

‘It doesn’t take much to make them happy, does it?’ he said, offering her a hand to help her to her feet.

She took his hand, struck by its strength and coldness. ‘Why, no, it doesn’t. How’s your cousin?’

‘I thought you were watching his progress in the paper.’

‘I am, but “improving” doesn’t tell us a lot, does it?’

‘It’s all anybody
can
tell us, according to his mother. I heard she tried to give you a little token of her gratitude, and you wouldn’t take it.’

‘We’re not allowed, are we?’

‘Exceptions can sometimes be justified, Nurse Wilde. I’m sure Matron would have let you have it, if it had been put to her in the right way. Mrs Lowery was frightfully
disappointed.’

Sally was obdurate. ‘Yes, but the rules are there for a purpose, aren’t they; to stop people buying preferential treatment, and if they apply to one they should apply to all, I would
have thought.’

He shrugged. ‘It couldn’t have bought preferential treatment after he’d been discharged. I think Mrs Lowery had the impression you had some objection to her,
personally.’

‘Well, I don’t know why she should think that,’ Sally lied. ‘How could I have?’ And then she remembered what a nurse should be – sober, honest, truthful, and
all the rest of it. But you couldn’t always be that and be tactful as well, and which mattered most? Really, what was she turning into? The sort of person who could never live up to Florence
Nightingale’s standards, and that was a fact.

‘Do I detect a tinge of sarcasm, Nurse?’

‘I hope not, Doctor,’ she said. ‘I hope you don’t detect any sarcasm.’ Which neatly avoided the lie of saying there was none.

‘What really happened when you were in that house in Darlington?’

After a long silence Sally said: ‘When I was in that house in Darlington two of us decided I’d be a lot better out of it, and now I see I didn’t get far enough, coming to
Newcastle. It’s time I took these bairns in, Dr Campbell. Mary’s shivering.’

‘No, I’m not, Nurse,’ Mary said. ‘I’m warm, at the front.’

‘And freezing at the back, like I am. Sister Harding didn’t want you out longer than half an hour, Mary. Look, here’s Monsieur Dubois.’