Liverpool Angels (32 page)

L
ife had taken on a sort of pattern over the years, Mae thought as she slowly sipped her coffee in the Café Arc-en-ciel one afternoon in late October. A pattern formed by the ebb and flow of the tide of war. Periods of chaotic, frantic work as the wounded had flooded in after the Somme, the Ypres Salient, Arras and Lys, followed by calmer, steadier periods of work when the casualties had not been so overwhelming. A pattern too to the periods of gnawing anxiety and fear for Pip’s safety. Verdun, Passchendaele, Cantigny, and weeks of relief when he’d been in Boulogne and then knowing he’d been safely at Woincourt and that Eddie was there too.

She glanced out of the window at the banks of low iron-grey clouds that were being driven across the sky by the strong wind – the first of the autumn gales heralding the approach of winter – and felt the knot of fear and worry grow in her chest. Eddie was still there, Lizzie received fairly regular letters from him, but Pip had left with the now trained 137th Infantry. At first he’d written that what they lacked in experience they made up for with an enthusiasm which bordered on a reckless disregard for their lives, and she knew that many had paid dearly for it. The American hospitals were now as overcrowded as theirs.

Throughout July, August and September American troops had arrived in their hundreds of thousands and they were fresh, well armed and equipped now, for the mighty US munitions industry was working at full production, and they’d advanced rapidly. They had turned the tide of war. Freed now from the trench warfare which had proved so futile, this ‘war of movement’, as it was being called, had seen the Kaiser’s exhausted, battle-weary troops – some of whom on being taken prisoner were found to be as young as fourteen – driven back at Cambrai and pursued through L’Épinette and Le Cateau. Then the Hindenburg Line had been breached in the Bony region and the Allies had pressed onwards deep into Belgium. The war news was good but she’d had no word from Pip for over six weeks.

The knot seemed to expand and became a pain and the coffee now tasted as bitter as gall.

‘You have not the . . . 
lettre,
no . . . 
billet
, Mademoiselle Mae?’

She looked up to find Monsieur Clari standing beside her, holding a small glass of Calvados. She shook her head, feeling the tears prick her eyes as she twisted her engagement ring nervously round on her finger.

He placed the glass on the table in front of her. ‘
Boisson.
Drink!’

She took a sip and murmured, ‘
Merci
,’ and then she felt his hand on her shoulder.

‘
Courage, ma petite! Courage!
’

She nodded as she took another sip, remembering how another kind Frenchman had given both her and Pip a glass of Calvados on the day America had declared war.

She finished the brandy and with a huge effort pulled herself together. She could not break down now and she would have to get back soon. Their time off was once again being strictly limited, for in the last weeks another enemy had emerged: one that was proving as deadly as any shell or bullet. It attacked both the fit and wounded and did not discriminate between Allied soldiers and civilians and those of Germany, Austria, Hungary or Bulgaria: a virulent form of influenza called ‘Spanish flu’. It was claiming more lives than all the battles had done and there seemed to be nothing that could be done to help those affected. They either recovered or they died – and they were dying in their hundreds by the day.

She stood up and bade a fond farewell to Monsieur Clari, who escorted her to the door and stood, shaking his head sadly as he watched her bend her head against the wind and walk up the Rue Nationale.

As always, when she returned she hoped against hope that there would be a letter or a note but Lizzie shook her head before she even had time to speak.

‘Don’t give up, Mae. Things must be chaotic for them, they are moving so quickly now. They’re not stuck in trenches with all the back-up of supply lines. You know he’ll get word to you as soon as he can.’

‘But what if . . . he’s been badly wounded and is lying in some American hospital unable to speak or has gone down with this flu?’

‘They’d have got word to you, Mae. You know he insisted on putting you as his next of kin, as well as his parents,’ Lizzie reminded her, her heart going out to her friend. It was the waiting, the not knowing that was so hard to bear.

‘Have there been any more cases this afternoon, Lizzie?’ Mae asked dejectedly, taking off her cape.

‘About a dozen and there have been another three deaths. Oh, it’s so hard to bear, Mae. They’ve come through so much and now the Hun is retreating and they go down with this . . . this plague! I wish there was more we could do for them.’

Mae nodded as she tied on a clean apron.

‘I did hear of what is being called a remedy of sorts although I can’t see how it will work when nothing else does. One of the lads on ward six who so far hasn’t succumbed says he puts black pepper in his tea.’

‘Pepper?’

Lizzie nodded. ‘I know, it sounds crazy to me but he swears by it. Might be worth a try though. We’re just as vulnerable.’

‘The tea already tastes bad enough!’

‘Then it can’t get much worse, Mae, can it? We should give it a try.’

Mae managed a grim smile as she left to resume her ward duties.

When she came off duty it was to find that Alice wasn’t well. She was sitting on the edge of her bed and looked flushed and feverish.

‘I feel terrible, Mae. My throat is sore, my head is thumping, I’m aching all over and I feel hot and yet shivery.’

Instantly Mae was alarmed. ‘Get into that bed and I’ll take your temperature,’ she instructed. Meekly Alice did as she was told, praying it was just a heavy cold and not the deadly flu.

Mae was even more alarmed when she realised her cousin’s temperature was 105 degrees. She passed the thermometer to Lizzie and they looked at each other in horror. Alice almost certainly had the virus.

‘I’ll go and inform Sister,’ Lizzie whispered and Mae nodded. She bent over Alice, tucking the grey blankets tightly around her. ‘I think I’ve still got some aspirin, Alice. It might help ease your headache.’

Alice tried to nod but the effort caused her to groan.

Mae found the aspirins and got a cup of water and helped Alice to take them but she knew they would have little or no effect.

Sister Harper arrived with Lizzie, both looking very concerned.

‘How is she, Nurse Strickland? I hear she has a raging temperature.’

‘She’s got all the symptoms, Sister. I’ve given her two aspirins but . . .’

Sister Harper nodded grimly. There didn’t seem to be any medication that had any effect. ‘All you can do is try and get her temperature down, get her to take plenty of fluids and . . . and hope.’

‘Sister, I’ll stay up with her,’ Mae said.

‘We’ll take it in turns, Mae,’ Lizzie added.

Sister Harper replied, ‘I think I can spare you tomorrow morning, Nurse Strickland, but not you too, Nurse Lawson. Maybe for a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Thank you, Sister,’ Mae replied, praying that Alice wouldn’t be worse by then.

As the night wore on Alice’s condition did become worse. Despite the fact that Mae and Lizzie sponged her down repeatedly her temperature remained dangerously high. She became delirious, not knowing who they were or where she was but calling repeatedly for her mam and then crying out, ‘Don’t be afraid, Jimmy! I’m here! I’m here!’

‘Oh, God, Lizzie, what can we do?’ Mae begged frantically. ‘She can’t die! She
can’t
! Not now!’

‘There isn’t anything more we can do, Mae,’ Lizzie replied, on the verge of tears herself. They continued to sponge Alice down.

At two o’clock Sister Harper appeared. ‘Is there any change?’

‘She’s delirious, Sister. We’re at our wits’ end,’ Lizzie fretted.

Sister bent over Alice, placing a hand on her forehead. ‘Still burning up with fever, but at least there isn’t any sign that it’s affecting her chest and she’s young and reasonably fit.’ She straightened up, her eyes full of compassion. She prayed young Alice McEvoy would recover; she was a good nurse, even though she was so young, and she liked her and knew how close these girls were. ‘You’re excused duties, Nurse Strickland, until . . . until further notice.’

Or until poor Alice dies, Lizzie thought in desperation.

By morning Alice’s condition didn’t seem to have worsened although it hadn’t improved, Mae thought. She was exhausted from lack of sleep and worry but throughout those long hours she’d held Alice’s hand. ‘Alice, please, please don’t give up! You can’t give up, Alice, Jimmy’s waiting for you and he loves you so much. You promised him you’d look after him and he just wants you to come home to him. Don’t give up, Alice!’ she’d repeated over and over just in case her cousin could hear her but she wasn’t convinced that she could.

When Lizzie came off duty she brought Mae a cup of tea and a sandwich. ‘Get some rest, Mae. I’ll sit with her now. You’ll make yourself ill if you go on like this,’ she urged.

‘She hasn’t improved, Lizzie,’ Mae told her friend.

‘It’s too soon to expect any change but at least she hasn’t deteriorated and it hasn’t turned to pneumonia, thank God. Get some rest. I’ve got two hours off, then I’ve got to go back on duty.’ Lizzie didn’t tell her that she really couldn’t be spared for there had been more cases overnight. In fact, now in ward seven there wasn’t a single man who didn’t have this flu and Sister was seriously concerned for her nursing staff.

Mae curled up on her bunk, cold and trembling with fatigue, but she realised that since Alice had taken ill she hadn’t thought about Pip. Before her eyes closed she prayed that wherever he was, he hadn’t succumbed to this terrible disease.

By the following morning it was clear that Alice was over the worst. Her temperature was still high but she was no longer delirious and seemed to be sleeping normally – although her breathing was shallow, Mae thought as she replaced the thermometer in its holder. Sister Harper had paid regular visits to check on both Alice and herself and had informed her, with evident relief in her voice, that for weeks now two American doctors at the No. 5 Base Hospital in Boulogne (which had formerly been the casino), had been studying the virus day and night in a laboratory and had finally produced what everyone hoped was an emergency vaccine. It had been hastily tested and they’d had some success and now all hospital personnel were to be vaccinated.

‘Just a pity we didn’t have it before Nurse McEvoy went down with it,’ she finished, ‘although it looks as if she will pull through.’

‘I’ll stay with her, Sister, if that’s all right, just in case . . .’ Mae sincerely hoped Alice would not have a relapse.

Sister Harper had agreed and left and Mae had sat beside her cousin, dozing intermittently until Lizzie again brought her tea.

‘Have you heard, Mae, we’re all to be vaccinated. Thank God they’ve finally found
something
that might help. Is she sleeping normally?’

Mae nodded, gratefully sipping the tea, oblivious now to its taste. ‘Her temperature was almost back to normal last time I took it. Oh, Lizzie, I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I don’t think any of us could have stood it if anything had happened to her. She’s worked so hard, she’s been so brave and . . . she’s only eighteen.’

‘She’ll be all right now, Mae, and there’s more good news. Lille has been captured, the casino in town is covered in flags, Mons will be next, then Liège and that’s not far from the border with Germany itself. The end can’t be far off now, everyone is hoping it will be all over by next week.’

Mae smiled tiredly. ‘And thank God Alice will be able to celebrate with us.’

Alice was still very weak when she finally got up three days later.

‘I feel a bit light-headed, sort of . . . dizzy,’ she said to Mae as she sat on the edge of her bed.

‘You’re bound to, you’ve been very ill. We were terrified you would die, Alice.’

Alice was chastened. ‘Was I really that bad?’

‘You were, believe me,’ Lizzie replied grimly. ‘We’ve lost count of the poor lads who haven’t recovered. You were very, very lucky, Alice.’

‘What if I . . . I get it again?’ Alice asked timidly. Her apparent brush with death had made her feel very apprehensive of her future.

‘You won’t. You’ve probably developed an immunity to it now and besides, we’ve all been vaccinated. When you’re stronger, you can be vaccinated too. Now, all you’ve got to do is rest and get your strength back,’ Lizzie said firmly, ‘so I’m going over to the mess tent to see what they can rustle up in the way of beef tea or
bouillon
, as Monsieur Clari calls it.’

Alice pulled a face although she knew Lizzie was only thinking of her welfare.

‘And while you’ve been ill the news has been good. Everyone is saying the war will be over in a few days now,’ Mae informed her.

‘Really? Oh, Mae, I can’t believe that after all this time the end is actually in sight. Have you heard from Pip?’

Mae’s expression changed; all the joy of Alice’s recovery drained away. ‘No, still nothing.’