Poppy (14 page)

Poppy loaded up the trolley with trays and took them out, to be greeted by a chorus of wolf whistles. (‘Just as if I’d been a ballet dancer making an entrance!’ she told Matthews later.)

‘They’ve just been told that you’re our new VAD,’ Moffat said to the flustered Poppy. ‘Take no notice. They like to make a girl blush.’

There were some more whistles, calls of ‘Over here, nurse!’ and ‘I’m going to need some help with my soup!’ In the end Sister Kay stood up and merely
looked
at the boys she perceived to be the main culprits. It was a look that did the trick.

Back in the little kitchen in the annexe, soup and bread had arrived from one of the hospital’s main kitchens. Poppy ladled out portions, loaded up the trolley as quickly as she could and wheeled it into the ward.

She kept her head down as she moved along the ward delivering trays to table and bed, partly from shyness and partly – remembering the troop train – in case she saw anything too disturbing. There was one bed which had screens placed right round it and Poppy, who’d been regarding this with some anxiety, was happy to comply with Sister Kay’s order not to disturb the man sleeping within.

After the soup, a tray of meat pie, plus pans full of stewed carrots and greens were delivered, and Smithers the orderly helped Poppy distribute them to the men at some speed, so that they wouldn’t get cold. After this came stewed apples and custard.

Poppy dashed about, going backwards and forwards from ward to kitchen several times for items she’d forgotten. While all this was going on, Moffat and Smithers cut up the meat for those boys who only had one arm, fed those who had no use of their arms at all, and helped a man lying flat who could only take his nourishment with the aid of a feeding cup.

At the end of the meal, Poppy had a few moments to familiarise herself and look around the ward before she collected the dirty plates. As she did so, she realised that the eyes of everyone there were upon her, as if they were waiting for something.

Suddenly the boy in the bed closest to her flung his one leg out from the covers and, leaning on a chair for balance, sang, ‘
Say goodbye to Tommy Atkins, He’s the chap you’re going to miss, Wave a hand to Tommy Atkins . . .
’

‘Private Wilson!’ Sister Kay’s voice boomed down the ward.

‘
. . . Though he’d much prefer a kiss!
’

‘That’s quite enough, thank you,’ Sister said. ‘This is a hospital ward, not a music hall.’

The singer gave a deep bow in Poppy’s direction and, to cheers from his fellow patients, got back into bed. Poppy, scarlet-faced, scurried to the relative safety of the little kitchen and composed herself before taking round mugs of tea.

After the food came the washing-up – seemingly as much as they used to have at Airey House after a party, Poppy thought, although then she’d had Molly and a little girl from the village to help her. Following tea, every boy there had his hot-water bottle refilled for afternoon rest, and following that, the beds were tidied and smoothed ready for visiting time. The visitors were mostly, if the patient came from nearby, the boys’ families. However, there was also an occasional fiancée and several ‘Good Eggs’, as Sister called them – middl
e-
aged ladies who didn’t know the boys personally, but, perhaps not having sons of their own, wanted to give them little treats.

It was teatime before Poppy knew it: egg and cress sandwiches, Victoria sponge and more mugs of tea. Then came the reapplication of some bandages, the taking round of bedpans and painkillers (‘We’ve hardly got any drugs – they’ve all gone to the front,’ Moffat confided) and yet more tidying of beds before the night staff came on. Their arrival signalled that Poppy’s shift was over. Yawning profusely, she dragged herself home, wondering how on earth the previous ‘flirty little thing’ had ever had the energy to entertain boys in the linen cupboard.

Back at the hostel, she found a letter propped up on her pillow and, seeing it in the dim light, thought it might be a letter from Freddie. She was deeply disa
p
pointed to find that it was from her brother.

Pte William Pearson,

8903 D Company

Hi Sis,

Just a quick note to say my regiment will be passing through southampton, from the station to the docks to catch a troopship late afternoon on 12th September.

This is not common knowledge and we dont no the name of the ship we are going on but my mate Ron found out because his girl works as a clerk in the war office and always looks to see whose going where. Matey says its good we no, as we can get stocked up with ciggies and so on. I am letting you no too in case you can come down to the docks and wave me of. Youll be right proud and you can tell our ma of it.

We are really looking forward to knocking it to ’em. We have started a contest to see who gets the most jerries the prize is a jug of beer in the Flying Duck at home.

Your brother,

William.

PS I am mostly called William now as someone said that Billy is a kids name.

Poppy read the letter again and then put it away. She would certainly ask Sister Kay if she could go and wave him off, but not yet, for she didn’t quite feel up to asking favours. She would see how the next few days in Hut 59 went . . .

Chapter Thirteen

‘Nurse!’

It was only Poppy’s second day at Netley and, not feeling a bit like a nurse, she didn’t respond to the call. The previous day had been alarming, a chaotic mixture of tasks performed (not terribly well, she’d thought) one after the other at the command of Sister Kay, with not a break between nor space to draw breath. The caller couldn’t want
her
, she thought; as it was quite impossible that she could be mistaken for a real nurse.

‘Nurse!’ The call came again, more urgently, echoing down one of the corridors of the main hospital.

Poppy turned to see a young man, wearing the buff jacket of an orderly, waving to her.

‘Oh, sorry!’ she said, going towards him. ‘I didn’t think you meant me. I’m not really a nurse.’

‘You’re dressed like one,’ he said.

‘Well, I’m a nursing VAD, but I’ve only just started here.’ She stared at the young man, who was pale and worried-looking, with beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. ‘Are you all right?’

He shook his head, panting slightly. ‘No . . . It’s my first day and I was just lifting someone and . . .’

‘You’ve seen something disturbing, haven’t you?’ Poppy said.

‘I don’t . . .’

‘Do you feel sick? Faint?’ Poppy asked swiftly. ‘You ought to sit down.’ She put her hand under his arm and guided him to a bench, keen to put what she knew about first aid into operation. ‘You need to put your head between your legs and –’

‘Wait!’ The young man struggled to sit up, but Poppy pushed his head down again.

‘Just stay like that for a moment. You know, I saw someone disfigured on the troop train and had just the same reaction as you. It’s terribly embarrassing but perfectly understandable.’

‘No! Nurse, or whoever you are . . .’

‘I’m called Pearson,’ Poppy said.

He jerked his head up and shrugged off her hand from the back of his neck. ‘Well, Pearson, if you’ll just give me a moment to explain. I was lifting a man from a stretcher into bed and when I looked round the group I was with had gone. I’ve been dashing about everywhere trying to find them.’

‘The group?’ Poppy said uncertainly.

He nodded. ‘I’m with Doctor Armstrong’s team, training to be a field doctor. I’m going out to help patch up battle wounds.’

‘Oh,’ Poppy said. ‘You’re a doctor . . .’ She felt herself beginning to turn red.

‘Almost,’ he said. ‘I’m awaiting confirmation.’

‘But you’re wearing an orderly’s jacket,’ she said weakly.

‘Yes, and you’re wearing a nurse’s outfit.’ He stood up. ‘If you must know, I dressed the wound of someone who was bleeding badly and stained my own jacket, so an orderly lent me his spare one. I could hardly go round the place looking like a . . . a . . .’

‘An axe murderer?’ Poppy finished.

He smiled suddenly, a wide smile that lit up his face. ‘I didn’t think I looked like an axe murderer, but thank you for that, Pearson. Anyway, as I was saying, I was with a group of student doctors on a tour of the building and got left behind. I’ve been going up and down corridors looking for them ever since.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Poppy said. Doctors and surgeons were regarded as minor gods by everyone from the matron downward, so it was mortifying to think that she’d grabbed hold of one and tried to force his head between his knees. ‘
Really
sorry,’ she repeated.

‘Never mind that now.’ He sighed. ‘Now, Pearson, have you any idea where the haematology lab really is? Everyone I’ve asked has sent me off in a different direction.’

Poppy nodded. ‘I know exactly. I had to go there yesterday and it’s very near the hut I’ve been assigned to.’ She pointed. ‘Along this way, across the corridor and through the swing doors on the right.’

He set off at a brisk pace. ‘I’m much obliged to you, Pearson,’ he called over his shoulder.

She glanced after him. A doctor! And quite charming, she thought, with his grey eyes and his wide smile. But the hundred and one demands of the day soon took over her thoughts.

All was strangely quiet in Hut 59 when Poppy went in. She said a cheerful good morning to the other staff and was given a raised-eyebrow sort of look from Moffat. When she went into the annexe to begin preparing the breakfast trays, the other VAD came in after her.

‘Just to let you know that we’re all a little subdued today – we had a man die in the night,’ Moffat said in a low voice. ‘Really nice chap. Sister Kay was very fond of him.’

‘Oh dear. I’m so sorry,’ Poppy said. She hesitated. ‘Who was it? The man behind the screen?’

Moffat shook her head. ‘No, a nice regular army sergeant who never gave anyone any trouble. He died just when we all thought he was safe. Nothing directly to do with his injury – the doctors think delayed shock led to his having a heart attack.’ She sighed. ‘When I got here this morning I saw the stretcher being taken out of the ward with a Union Jack covering it.’

Poppy saw tears in the other girl’s eyes and felt her own well up in sympathy. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said again, feeling inadequate.

‘I’m afraid it sometimes happens like that,’ Moffat said, sniffing. ‘You get a chap in, you patch him up and sort him out, and then he goes and dies. Mind you,’ she went on after a moment, ‘he was due to have his other leg off today.’

‘Oh. So he would have been . . .’

Moffat nodded. ‘A double amputee. He was dreading it, although we all kept telling him he’d be fixed up with false legs and be as good as new.’

‘
Good as new
,’ Poppy repeated dubiously.

‘You have to tell them that. His wife visited him here, though she couldn’t come that often as she’s got three little girls. Now Sister will have to tell her the news and there’s nothing worse – not when you think your chap has come through the worst and is safely back in Blighty – than to find out he’s dead.’

‘No . . .’ Poppy breathed. How dreadful . . . she couldn’t imagine . . .

Moffat squeezed her hand and they shared a look – a sympathetic, fortifying, we’re-all-in-this-together look – then she went back into the ward. Poppy breathed deeply, blew her nose and began to load up a trolley with bowls, jugs of milk and spoons for the boys’ breakfasts.

‘Sugar, hot water, milk, syrup, salt, butter for toast . . .’ she muttered to herself like a mantra. Maybe this morning she’d do better.

While she was still frowning and counting out spoons, Smithers the orderly came in. ‘Now,
breakfast
,’ he said. ‘I came in to tell you that some of the boys’ relatives have brought in new-laid eggs for them.’

Poppy nodded. ‘Oh yes, I saw the notices asking for eggs to be donated.’

‘Some like them soft boiled with bread-and-butter soldiers; some hard boiled; some will only eat them tipped out on to a plate; a couple prefer scrambled.’

Poppy’s heart sank. ‘Oh, no! Really?’

Smithers raised his eyebrows. ‘After all those boys have done for us, don’t you think they deserve an egg cooked the way they want it?’

‘Oh, of course they do,’ Poppy said guiltily. ‘I was just wondering how I was going to . . .’ She stopped because he was chuckling at her.

‘It’s all right – I’m having you on,’ he said. ‘Just boil up a dozen or so eggs – whatever you’ve got – in a big saucepan and give them all four minutes. First come, first served. Their chums will see to it that those who don’t get an egg today will get one tomorrow.’

Poppy set the egg water to boil and then went in with the trolley to serve porridge and cups of tea. The men seemed rather glum and only cheered up when she announced that she couldn’t find any egg cups to put the eggs in and she would have to go and borrow a dozen from the next ward. This led to a score of egg-related puns about the previous VAD having hidden them
eggs
tra well, it being a
yolk
where they’d gone, and if she could borrow some it would be
eggs
ellent. Sister Kay kept a straight face throughout most of this, but when one of the lads said something about not sleeping well and feeling
eggs
hausted, even she managed a smile.