I had just finished my last thank you letter when Juno and her mother arrived. We were all to take tea together at Cadogan Place and afterwards Lady Maud would escort us to Spitalfields. Now she chewed buttered crumpets at top speed while talking excitedly of her plans to get out to France and help the troops. Mother’s voice was mocking. ‘Dear me, Maud, how brave you are – and Helena here is shaking in her shoes at the thought of merely going to the East End of London!’
Lady Maud said stoutly, ‘I’d plump for France any day – much healthier.’
France, where men were fighting and dying: I would never dare to go there. Spitalfields seemed almost welcome for a moment.
Mother and Juno began to argue about Zeppelins: how far they could fly, how big they were. Lady Maud broke in, ‘They’re so huge they would practically fill St James’s Street – Victor swore that was true.’
‘Then, Maud, it can’t possibly be so!’
Lady Maud blinked, then laughed with Mother. ‘But seriously, Ria, they say they could reach Britain, if they tried.’
I remembered the round fat cigar which had hovered over Agar’s Plough at Eton before floating slowly down. It was no longer an innocuous ship of the air, it was a Zeppelin – and under its threatening dark shadow our safe island would be safe no longer. I shivered.
Lady Maud brushed the crumbs from her lap and stood up. ‘Come along you girls, it’s time to enlist.’ I rang for my hat.
As we climbed out of the cab the hospital loomed over us and the blank windows stared at us like so many unsleeping eyes. We passed inside the ugly yellow brick gateway and crossed dingy courtyards to the Nurses’ Home; the porter trundled our boxes behind us. A pale-faced, unsmiling housekeeper asked our names, then we followed her up several flights of stairs. The housekeeper selected one of a row of identical doors and threw it open; she gestured to Juno who took a deep breath and said to Lady Maud, ‘Cheerio for now, Ma – I’ll run up and see you when I can.’ They shook hands vigorously, then Lady Maud crushed my fingers in turn, ‘Good luck, the pair of you.’ She swung round and strode off. I gazed after her helplessly, but the woman beckoned me on.
My room was further down; it was like a cell. The porter hefted my trunk inside as I fumbled for a tip. He glanced at it in surprise and touched his forelock. ‘Good evening, Nurse.’ I started and looked round before I realized he was addressing me, and my legs were shaking as I crouched down and began to tug at the heavy leather straps. I had never unpacked for myself in my whole life and I was surrounded by untidy heaps of clothes and tissue paper when there was a loud rap at the door which was flung open before I had time to call ‘come in’. A middle-aged woman in a blue cotton dress and nurse’s cap marched in, then stopped suddenly. She stared disapprovingly at the chaos around me before snapping, ‘Tidy up at once, Nurse. Then dress in your uniform and come straight down to my room with the other new probationers. Bring your cap with you and I will instruct you on how to make it up. Put your box outside as soon as it’s empty and don’t waste any more time.’ Starched skirts crackled out.
I began frantically to burrow for my uniform. I had not even tried it on before – I had not wanted to look ahead. The frock was a hideous mauve check in coarse cotton, the skirt clumsily gathered at the back only, with sleeves that puffed out over the upper arm and then became suddenly tight at the elbow. It looked ugly and old-fashioned and the housemaids at Hatton would never have worn it, not even for lighting the fires first thing. I struggled to attach the high starched collar to the dress with slippery collar studs; I was sweating with the heat and with fear. The billowing linen apron enveloped me from shoulder to ankle, and when I secured it with the wide white belt it bunched uncomfortably over my hips. My pointed bronze leather toes peeped out below it; they looked surprised. I scrabbled frantically for the thick black stockings and flat black shoes that would complete the whole graceless outfit. I was fastening the last suspender when there were rapid footsteps in the corridor and Juno burst in. ‘I never thought I’d have to dress up like a general servant - and what is this supposed to be?’ She held out a short white cotton tube.
I suggested tentatively, ‘A sleeve?’
‘But it’s not attached to anything – and it’s the bottom half!’ She threw the object down on the bed. ‘Come on, Hellie, locate this cap of yours and we’ll get downstairs.’ I found a pile of flat white cambric pancakes with tapes running through them, picked one up and followed Juno out.
We found the right room at last. The woman in the blue dress looked impatient and as soon as we came in she pounced on my ring, Gerald’s ring. ‘Whatever are you doing wearing that?’
I put my hand protectively over it. ‘It’s my betrothal ring.’
My fingers were prized open. ‘No jewellery at all to be worn on the wards, most insanitary – it will harbour germs, besides the damage to patients.’ She made irritated clucking noises in her throat. ‘Here.’ She rustled to her desk, scissors snapped and I was handed a length of tape. ‘Take it off and tie it round your neck for the time being – under your dress.’ Slowly I pulled off Gerald’s ring, threaded the tape through it and pushed it down inside my camisole. The stone lay cold on my skin above my heart. Then she seized my pancake, tweaked the tapes and converted it into a cotton shovel. ‘Bend your head, Nurse. Dear me, no bun? All nurses must part their hair in the middle, lift it above the ears and wear it in a bun above the nape – how else can your cap be attached?’ She waved the ends of the tapes.
Somehow the shovel was fastened to my hair, then Juno bent her head in turn. We stood uncertainly waiting until there was a tap at the door and two more girls came in, clutching white pancakes. ‘Is this the right room?’ The leading girl spoke with a marked and unpleasant accent. I glanced at Juno and shuddered.
The next hour passed in a confused melee of unfamiliar sights and sounds: the tiered lecture room, the massed ranks of nurses, the frock-coated doctor addressing us – haemorrhage, arteries, tourniquet – whatever did his words mean? Then out again along endless stone passageways and steep bare staircases until Sister’s sharp voice pierced my frightened senses. ‘You are allocated to Allsop Ward, Nurse.’ I was whisked through a lobby and into a long high room which receded into the shadows. The blinds were drawn but a red-shaded lamp glowed by one bed; the humped figure in it shifted restlessly and I heard a low moan of pain – my stomach lurched.
A woman in blue came forward without speaking to me. ‘Thank you, Sister. Staff Nurse is in the kitchen.’ I was whisked back out again.
Staff Nurse was tall and angular and looked angry. As soon as my escort had left she snapped, ‘I don’t know what we’re supposed to do with you – we’ve one useless pair of hands already.’ She glared at a small mousey girl stirring something at the stove who shrank back over her saucepan, her eyes frightened. Staff Nurse turned back to me. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Lady Helena Girvan.’
Staff Nurse’s bony face reddened. ‘We don’t have any ladies here – or Christian names either. That’s the first rule.’ She jerked her head towards the door. ‘I suppose I’d better show you round. Carry on with that custard, Fraser – at least try and stop the lumps getting any larger or Number Seventeen won’t even be able to get them in her mouth. Follow me, Girvan.’
It took me several seconds to realize she was addressing me; then I hastily scurried after her. ‘Sterilizer, linen cupboard, Sister’s room, bathroom.’ She rattled off the names, sprang at another door and flung it open. ‘Sink room.’ The stench hit me like a blow in the face and I stepped quickly back. ‘Patients’ WCs and lavatories are at the other end of the ward though not many use them, they’re mostly confined to bed.’
She paused for breath and I ventured a query. ‘Where are the WCs for us to use?’
‘Officially down three flights of stairs by the side entrance – but you’ll be lucky to ever be allowed off long enough to get there, so you’d better learn to hang on, or if you’re desperate you can slip into the patients’ – but don’t let Sister catch you and for God’s sake don’t sit on the seat – some of our women are as infectious as lepers.’ I felt sick, and decided I would ‘hang on’. ‘I’ve got to sort out that idiot Fraser – you’d better just stand in the corner there and use your eyes, we’re off duty in ten minutes.’
I stood still in the corner of the darkened ward, feeling frightened and useless. I saw the momentary flash of a white cap at the far end, then it vanished behind a screen and I was left alone, while all around me sick women lay sleeping in their beds. A thin white plait stirred on the bed cover nearest to me, and a pair of eyes gleamed in the gloom. Very slowly the bedclothes moved until a claw-like hand emerged and began to flutter above the sheet. The eyes were fixed on me as the toothless mouth opened and gave a low moan; I shrank back against the wall. The moan rose in pitch until it was a keening cry of distress; I was terrified. The keening came again, higher and shriller; I looked desperately round and at that point the ward door swung open and the mousey nurse called Fraser came in. I let my breath out in relief – but she ignored the outstretched claw and headed up the ward. I ran after her and caught her arm. ‘Please – an old woman – she’s crying…’
Fraser pulled herself free. ‘For goodness’ sake!’ Her voice was impatient. She marched back to the bed at the entrance and glared at the old woman. ‘Be quiet at once, Number Fifteen, you’re disturbing the whole ward.’ The moan stopped abruptly in mid breath; she clutched at her sheet and stared up at us with crazed, frightened eyes. Fraser was gone; I backed treacherously away from the despairing eyes and half ran to hide in the other corner.
I peered at the hands of the ward clock, willing them to move on, and at last they crawled to twenty past nine, and Staff Nurse came to fetch me. ‘The night nurses are here – come and be dismissed.’
I stood at the end of the row while Sister dismissed us; she did not even glance in my direction. We walked sedately out into the lobby and then there was a stampede. Staff Nurse hissed, ‘Harris, take Girvan to the dining room with you.’ A small blonde girl looked quickly back and nodded; I scuttled after her, terrified of being lost in the maze of passageways.
When we finally reached the dining room another blue-frocked woman sat at the entrance with a register in front of her. ‘Number?’
I stared at her blankly. The blonde girl spoke over my shoulder. ‘She’s new, Sister, she hasn’t got a number yet, her name’s Girvan.’
The sister’s mouth tightened as her finger flicked down the page. ‘Twenty-seven.’
There was a jab in the small of my back and a hissed, ‘Give her your number.’
I jerked out, ‘Twenty-seven’; the blonde said, ‘Fifty-two’, and we were finally allowed in to the sound of impatient mutterings from the queue behind us.
I was pushed towards a chair and almost fell into it. A panting Juno flopped down beside me. ‘What’s your number Hellie?’
‘Twenty-seven.’
‘How strange, I’m Thirty-four, yet we arrived together.’
A nurse opposite glanced up. ‘They give you the number of the last pro to go – Thirty-four was Potts, couldn’t stick it, I believe – Twenty-seven was Rowley’s number, wasn’t it?’
Her neighbour nodded. ‘Pity; nice girl, I believe.’
Juno asked, ‘Did she give it up, too?’
‘No, she died last week, tubercular meningitis – ssh, Sister’s saying grace.’
A plate with some kind of rissole on it was slapped down in front of me. I picked up my knife and fork, but the rissole tasted of warmed-up grease and I could only force half of it down. I looked around the big bleak room at the hundreds of strange faces and felt very alone. Then Juno muttered beside me, ‘What foul food,’ and I was a little comforted – at least I had someone of my own sort there beside me.
At the end of the meal we followed the nurses from our table and found ourselves in the wrong Nurses’ Home – apparently there were two – it was very confusing. When we eventually found our way back to the right corridor both the bathrooms were occupied, with dressing-gowned queues outside. Juno shrugged. ‘I had a bath this morning, I’m going to bed dirty – anyway I want to write some letters.’
So did I, but I found it very difficult to concentrate in that box of a bedroom. I took out the smiling photograph of Gerald and looked at it for a long time before I began to write ‘Dearest Gerald’, but still the words would not come. In the end I managed a few lines on our arrival, but I could not tell him my fears about this strange new life – not when he was so bravely fighting the enemy. I sealed the envelope and began to write to the twins instead. I was pouring out my anxieties and despondency in this frightening place when the room was plunged abruptly into darkness; it was ten-thirty. I fumbled my way into bed, but it was a long time before I fell asleep.