‘I DO THINK you girls should consider joining the VAD,’ urged Mother enthusiastically as they sat having tea. ‘As part of the war effort, the Royal College of Science has set up a sphagnum moss depot which sends moss to the army field hospitals.’
‘Sphagnum moss – it sounds disgusting!’ Grace said with disdain. ‘I’m far too busy to spend my time sorting heaps of some dirty old moss.’
‘Dorothy says it is a miracle plant. Far better for healing wounds than ordinary bandages and dressings, and they are using it in all the hospitals,’ said Mother defensively. ‘Her daughter and daughter-in-law both find the work in the depot very rewarding.’
Nellie had heard of the great success army surgeons on the front had, using moss with the badly injured, but she was stretched already with her work in the Bureau and at Liberty Hall.
‘Nellie, you could volunteer to help out, surely? They are urgently trying to recruit some more ladies.’
‘Mother, I am already working hard for the war effort,’ she protested. ‘I am trying to stop young Irish men being conscripted into the army so that they will never fight or have need of moss dressings to treat their battle wounds!’
Mother looked disappointed. She was already involved with the church committee, sending parcels of knitted socks, scarves and gloves, along with cigarettes and sweets to the regiments on the Western Front.
Nellie sighed, for nothing she ever did seemed to please her mother. Grace was different because Mother could see her work and boast to her friends that Grace had a sketch in the paper, or had designed the theatre programme for a play they attended. Nellie, on the other hand, was involved in all the type of things that Mother despised.
‘I was just thinking about your brothers and that it would be good to see the women of the family involved in the war effort too,’ Mother continued doggedly.
‘The boys shouldn’t take any part in it,’ Nellie blurted out. ‘This war is not their fight.’
‘This family has always been loyal to the crown and the empire,’ Mother reprimanded her. ‘Your brothers all know their duty and will decide what to do for themselves.’
‘Even if it is the wrong decision.’
Mother flushed and Nellie felt immediately contrite. Her mother was bound to be worried about her brothers: she spent much of her time attending memorial services or calling to give her condolences to friends who had lost a son in the war.
‘I’m sorry, Mother, but I cannot get involved,’ she apologized.
‘Nor me,’ added Grace.
‘I would offer my own services if I hadn’t your father ill at home to contend with,’ Mother said pointedly before taking her leave of them.
‘Moss – did you ever? I have all kinds of arrangements of my own to make for the wedding,’ Grace confided when she was sure Mother was well out of hearing.
‘When are you going to tell Mother about it?’
‘As late as possible, for if she had her way Joe and I would never marry.’
‘Is everything all right?’ Nellie probed, for of late Grace was rarely at home and had become somewhat secretive.
‘Fine,’ she replied, giving little away. ‘Joe and I are just busy planning things.’
Nellie could not help but feel a little envious, wishing that she was married like Kate or Muriel, or even engaged like Grace. Sometimes it seemed that love was passing her by. Every day she was surrounded by men and yet she had never been in love, never had a man write her a love letter or tell her that he loved and cared deeply for her.
‘Love will find you, Nellie,’ kind-hearted Kate reassured her. ‘You just have to be patient.’