Liverpool Angels (17 page)

‘Mae wouldn’t exaggerate or lie about things like that, Sister. Please, please can I go too? We’re all desperately needed. When things are really bad even the sisters and staff nurses have to go up the line to the clearing stations, leaving nurses like me in charge of the wards. I know I’m young, but surely I’m of more use there than I am here? Those poor lads are suffering dreadfully and if I can help . . .’

Sister looked at her in silence. She was right; if things were
that
bad then . . . ‘You realise what you are asking me to do, Nurse?’

Alice thought at least she hadn’t turned her plea down flat. ‘I do, Sister. I know I’m really too young but surely in these circumstances age doesn’t matter? Surely it’s experience and training that count?’

At last Sister Forshaw nodded slowly. They wouldn’t be the first to falsify records; Alice wasn’t the first to lie about her age but at least she wouldn’t be in any physical danger and she was right, every pair of hands was needed. ‘All right, Nurse, but only on the condition that your mother approves and I will require her consent in writing.’ She wasn’t going to accept just Alice’s word. She needed to know that her mother knew and approved.

Despite the feeling of elation that was surging through her Alice realised that obtaining her mam’s consent was probably going to be as hard as getting Sister to agree to let her go to France. ‘I’ll have a serious talk to her, Sister. I think I can persuade her.’

Sister Forshaw raised an eyebrow. ‘I hope you can, Nurse, otherwise no matter how much you are needed, you’ll be staying here.’

All the way home Alice pondered the matter, trying to find the right words to persuade her mam. She had to impress on her how much she was needed, how much she wanted to go and help, despite how young she was. She finally but reluctantly decided that she would have to let Mam read Mae’s letter.

When she arrived home she was relieved in a way to find that Agnes was sitting with Maggie; after all, Agnes had both her sons fighting in France.

‘A hard day, Alice?’ Agnes greeted her, thinking she looked tired.

‘I’ll get you a cup of tea, luv,’ Maggie offered, getting to her feet.

‘There’s something I want to talk to you about first, Mam,’ Alice said, taking off her hat and unbuttoning her coat.

Maggie looked at her suspiciously. ‘Now what?’

‘I had a talk with Sister Forshaw this afternoon, Mam. I . . . I asked her to let me go to nurse in France, like Mae.’

Maggie started to protest but Alice held out the letter. ‘Mam, Aunty Agnes, please read this. It’s from Mae and . . . and when you’ve read it you’ll know why I want to go. Why I
have
to go.’

The two women looked anxiously at each other but Maggie took the letter and placed it down on the table between herself and Agnes. Alice held her breath. She hadn’t really wanted to worry her mother any more than was necessary, she’d wanted to try to keep from her Mae’s descriptions of the atrocious conditions in the trenches, the appalling wounds, the state in which the wounded were brought in, their terrible suffering and the hardships all the doctors and nurses endured, but she was certain it was the only way she could get her mam to give her consent.

When they’d finished there were tears in both women’s eyes and Agnes was shaking her head in disbelief.

‘Dear God, Maggie! What have we sent them to? Why didn’t we stop them?’

Maggie was pressing her hands so tightly together that her knuckles were white. ‘We didn’t know, Agnes, we just didn’t
know
! And . . . and Eddie . . . They’ve just sent him back again.’

Alice saw her opportunity. ‘And it’s for Eddie and Jimmy and Harry that I want to go, Mam. If I can help, if I can do
anything
to help all those lads . . . Mam, can’t you see that I just can’t stay at home, not when . . . Please, Mam, I have to have your consent and in writing before Sister will do anything,’ she begged.

‘Oh, Alice, you’re so young, luv,’ Maggie replied hesitantly.

‘I’m the same age as Tommy Mitford, Mam, and I’m not going to be in any danger – unlike him,’ Alice reminded her quietly.

Finally Maggie nodded. She was shocked to the core by Mae’s letter and was now desperately worried about Eddie and Agnes’s boys and young Tommy Mitford. ‘I won’t stop you, Alice, not if that Sister Forshaw is willing to let you go. She must think you’ll be able to cope.’

Inwardly Alice breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’ll cope, Mam. If Mae can cope then so can I,’ she replied determinedly as Maggie got to her feet to get a pen and some paper to write the letter that would send her daughter – only just seventeen years old – to France.

L
ater that week Mae was summoned to Sister Allinson’s office. She wondered why but she quickly found out.

‘Nurse Strickland, I have to inform you that you are being transferred,’ Sister announced.

Mae was surprised and prayed it wasn’t going to be somewhere further away. ‘Where to, Sister?’

‘General Camp Hospital Number Twenty-four, one of the hospitals that have been erected on the coast behind the dunes and the railway line. You will be replaced on the train by a nurse coming over from England.’

Mae nodded. There was a terrible shortage of hospitals in France and as no one had envisaged or planned for the scale of the casualties things had become so desperate that new hospitals had had to be hastily erected. They consisted of bell tents and marquees which served as wards, operating theatres and accommodation for the medical staff. ‘When do I go, please, Sister?’

‘Tomorrow, Nurse Strickland, and Nurse Lawson is also being transferred.’

Again Mae nodded; it would be good to be working with Lizzie again, she thought as she was dismissed, but she wondered whether life would now be harder than on the hospital train.

Mae read Alice’s letter as soon as it arrived. When her cousin had first written asking her for a brutally truthful description of conditions Alice had told her that she intended to use it to help persuade Sister Forshaw to let her come out to nurse. Mae had wondered about the advisability of it all at first but knowing of Alice’s determination and the desperate need for nurses she had overcome her doubts. Now Alice was to join her, she thought, and that thought made her feel more cheerful than she had been since Pip had gone. She
did
miss him; out of habit when the ambulances arrived she found herself looking for him. They’d only ever exchanged a few words on those occasions but just to see him had somehow been the highlight of her day. She’d received one scribbled note, telling her he was fine but exhausted as there was barely time to sleep or eat, and she’d written back with her news, hoping that somehow in the confusion he would receive her letter.

She hoped Alice would be sent to one of the hospitals here in Boulogne; although the conditions were still very basic at least the air was fresh – if cold, as it came in off the sea. Of course there was no running water, it all had to be brought in in buckets, and the wards were lit by hurricane lamps. The tents, Mae had to admit, were always gloomy in these dark winter days for the beds were covered by red or brown blankets, white cotton counterpanes being out of the question. When a convoy of wounded arrived – which happened day and night – the bugle would sound for ‘Fall In’; it was a sound she was becoming very familiar with. It was all very different from the hospital trains; only the suffering of the wounded remained the same. Alice would find it a world away from the wards of Walton Hospital, but she was glad her cousin was finally being allowed to make the journey.

The day Alice arrived was a typical blustery March day but at least spring appeared at last to be in the air, she thought, screwing her eyes up against the bright and unaccustomed sunlight. Just as Mae had been, she too was at first confused by all the people and traffic that surrounded her but she was quickly instructed to join the convoy of wounded that was being taken a little way down the coast to the General Camp Hospital where she was to live and work.

When she arrived there was little time to take in her surroundings; depositing her case quickly on a camp bed in one of the bell tents and donning her apron, cap and cuffs she followed the sister across the compound to a marquee where the wounded were being attended to.

‘First of all, Nurse, cut away their uniform and wash the patient but be aware that they are all verminous. Then do whatever you can to make them comfortable until a medical officer can assess their wounds and decide upon treatment,’ Sister instructed briskly. She then peered closely at Alice. ‘I’m aware that you haven’t had to cope with anything like this before but I don’t want any hysterics or fainting fits. You look very young, Nurse McEvoy.’

Alice had scraped her hair back under her veil, hoping it would make her look older. ‘People always tell me that, Sister, but I’m not as young as I look. Don’t worry about me, I won’t be fainting or breaking down. I can cope,’ she asserted firmly before turning to what appeared to be a bundle of filthy cloth, blood and bandages on a stretcher, which she realised with shock was in reality a lad of about twenty. Taking a deep breath, she got down to work.

She’d never worked so hard in her life before, she thought when at last she was relieved. There hadn’t been time to dwell on the sights she’d seen or the tasks she’d had to perform; there were times when she’d felt faint and even nauseous but she’d gritted her teeth and the overwhelming emotion that filled her had been that of pity. Now it was dark and she had no idea of what time it was. Her back and shoulders were aching, she was hungry and thirsty and cold, and as she made her way across the compound towards the tent she began to shiver with a combination of weariness and distress. But she had coped, she thought; she’d given no outward sign of her inexperience and Sister had even grudgingly said, ‘Well done, Nurse.’

The tent, which had been empty earlier, was now occupied by a dozen other nurses, all as tired as herself, their uniforms filthy and blood-spattered – and there was Mae sitting on the edge of the bed she’d been allocated earlier. Alice’s face lit up in a smile. ‘Mae! Oh, I’m so glad to see you! I hoped I would be sent to the same hospital but I had no idea when I arrived and . . .’

Mae hugged her. Throughout the day she’d asked everyone whether any new nurses had arrived, describing Alice, and found out that her cousin was indeed here – somewhere.

‘Come and sit down, Alice. You look exhausted. We’ve brewed up so there’s a hot drink for you. We’re all done in and I feel too tired to eat but we’ll have to go and get some supper; we’ve got to keep our strength up.’

Alice held the mug of hot tea gratefully between her hands, glad of the warmth now slowly seeping into her fingers. ‘I just want to lie down and sleep.’

‘Don’t we all,’ Lizzie said, adding, ‘Hello again, Alice.’

‘Lizzie! Oh, it’s great to see you. Is Ethel here too?’ Alice asked, delighted to see her companion from Walton Hospital.

Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, she had to stay on the trains although I know she wanted to come with us.’

‘Is it always like . . . this?’ Alice asked Mae.

‘Only when you hear the “Fall In”. At other times it’s mainly helping to dress wounds, give bed baths, take temperatures, general nursing in fact.’

Alice looked around, noting for the first time that the beds were set out in a circle around a small stove, there was a makeshift kitchen at one end, and empty sugar boxes were provided for their clothes; that was all there was in the way of comforts.

‘Not very luxurious, is it?’ Mae stated.

‘I didn’t expect it to be,’ Alice answered, sipping the hot tea and beginning to feel a bit better.

‘I’ll help you get unpacked, we’ll get something to eat and then we’ll have to wash these filthy aprons and cuffs and go through everything – hair, underclothes, dresses – looking for flaming “greybacks”. Then we can finally go to bed and get some sleep and you’ll feel better tomorrow,’ Mae said, trying to sound cheerful, despite her own weariness.

‘Providing we don’t get another convoy in during the night,’ Lizzie added.

‘Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, Alice. Jimmy Mercer was brought in today. I haven’t had time to go and see him but apparently he’s been shot in the arm. It’s not too bad. The bullet’s been removed and thankfully the wound was fairly clean – which is almost a miracle as you’ll know by now. He’s really fed up that he won’t be getting a “Boat Sitting ticket” back to Blighty. He’s in ward seven. I’m sure it would cheer him up no end to see you if you can get a minute tomorrow. I think he might be able to get up by then.’

Alice had at first felt a sense of shock that Jimmy had been wounded but Mae’s words had been reassuring. She’d seen so many infected, suppurating wounds today and had witnessed the excruciating pain that cleaning them had caused that she realised Jimmy had been fortunate. ‘I’ll make time, Mae, and I’ll write to Aunty Agnes tomorrow night,’ she said determinedly.

Mae smiled at her. ‘It’s not what we expected, Alice, is it, but you do get used to it. There’s not nearly as much scrubbing and cleaning as in hospitals at home and definitely no sink rooms. Remember how embarrassed we were about using tow?’

Alice managed a wry grin. ‘If we’d known then what we know now . . .’ She shrugged.

Mae nodded. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Alice. I’ve been feeling a bit down since Pip left. I really do miss him.’

‘Who’s Pip?’ Alice asked, surprised.

‘He’s a driver with the American Field Ambulance Service. I met him the day I arrived in Boulogne. He’s very nice and we go for coffee in town whenever we can – or we did until he was sent to Verdun.’

‘What about Harry Mercer? I thought you and he . . . ?’

Mae shook her head and bit her lip. ‘I’m fond of Harry, you know that, just the way you are, Alice. But that’s all and I never promised I’d walk out with him. I only promised to write.’

‘Mam and Aunty Agnes think it’s more than that and I’m sure Harry does too,’ Alice put in sharply.

‘It’s not. I . . . I don’t feel anything . . . special . . . for Harry.’

‘And do you for this “Pip Middlehurst”? Do you love him?’

‘I don’t know if I love him, Alice. We haven’t known each other very long but I know that what I feel for him is very different to what I feel – and have always felt – for Harry,’ Mae answered truthfully.

‘Does Harry know you’ve been “having coffee” with someone else? Have you written and told him?’ Alice demanded. She didn’t feel that Mae was treating Harry very fairly at all.

‘I’ve written to him, but . . . but I haven’t heard anything back from him. Truly I really didn’t want to upset him, not when he’s in the front-line trenches.’

‘That’s a bit underhanded of you, Mae,’ Alice said flatly.

‘I didn’t mean to be. Oh, I hope this isn’t going to cause trouble between us.’

‘I just think you’ve not treated Harry very well.’

‘I do feel guilty about it, Alice. I never meant to hurt him. He knows about Pip now anyway – though I think Eddie may have already told him. We saw Eddie in Boulogne. Pip was holding my hand, Eddie asked who he was and I introduced them. I suppose Eddie will have told Harry all that.’

‘Knowing our Eddie, he probably has,’ Alice said sharply. She felt very upset with Mae. ‘Will this Pip Middlehurst be coming back?’

Mae shrugged. ‘I really do hope so but as to when – who knows?’ She stood up. ‘Right, supper first, you must be starving.’

‘I am,’ Alice replied, wondering if food would give her the energy for the chores Mae had mentioned. As she wearily pulled on her greatcoat she hoped so.

They walked across to the mess tent together, Mae conscious that Alice’s disapproval had changed things between them. It saddened her. ‘At least that’s your first day almost over,’ she said.

Alice just nodded. It had been a shocking day in more ways than one. But tomorrow she would be able to visit Jimmy and see how he was: that was something to look forward to.

Thankfully they hadn’t been disturbed during the night but Alice felt tired and stiff as she reluctantly dragged herself from under the army blankets early next morning. After breakfast she found herself walking across the compound with Lizzie and she was surprised when the older girl broached the subject of the coolness between her and her cousin.

‘Have you had a falling out with Mae?’

Alice explained, ‘I didn’t know she was seeing this American ambulance driver. I . . . we thought she and Harry Mercer were . . . close.’

‘I know he writes to her but Mae has said to me that she’s only fond of him, nothing more.’

‘That’s not what he thinks and I really do feel that she’s not treated the poor lad well at all, Lizzie. ’

Lizzie frowned. ‘I suppose it’s not the easiest thing to do, to write and tell someone who’s in the front line that you’ve begun seeing someone else. And things out here are very different to home, as you’ll soon find out. For one thing, often at the end of the day you are so tired it’s an effort to eat let alone write letters of any kind. And I also think that you begin to look at . . . relationships in a different light. You certainly view the future in a very different way. Don’t be too hard on Mae and don’t let it drive a wedge between you. You’ll regret it if you do; we all value our personal friendships very highly. We need each other to get through each day and you and Mae have always been so close. She doesn’t love Harry, Alice, and she can’t help that. I don’t know if she’s falling in love with Pip but . . .’ Lizzie shrugged.

‘I just think that she hasn’t been fair to Harry,’ Alice persisted.

‘Maybe she hasn’t, but there are reasons. Just don’t let that come between you, Alice,’ Lizzie urged once more. ‘I’m older than you both so maybe I see things differently.’

Alice nodded, thinking about everything Lizzie had said. Perhaps Lizzie was right – she
was
older and wiser; but that still didn’t stop Alice feeling upset and annoyed with Mae.