But there was no time to grieve. Two days after I got back to the hospital the great British offensive on the Somme began, and soon the wounded were flooding in. The whole ward stank of the thick yellow pus which poured out as we unwrapped the blood-caked bandages. We probed and delved for pieces of broken bone, then packed the gaping holes, thrust in the draining tubes and quickly bound them up again. In bed after bed men lay desperately ill, and my wrists ached from wringing out fomentations, while the skin on my palms became permanently wrinkled from handling the hot cloths. The rubbish bin in the annex was full to overflowing with reeking dressings and I had to ram my pail down hard on to the filthy mass to empty it. Then I ran back to the bubbling sterilizer, on to the sticky lysol-filled sink to dunk the bloodstained mackintoshes, and out again to the ward where face after face swayed beneath me as I slid my arm below pillow after pillow, and tipped up the feeding cup with the repetitive, meaningless words, ‘Come along now, old man, have a nice drink ... a nice drink ... a nice drink…’
There were feet that no longer looked like feet, hands that had been torn into shreds, and faces that were only eyes above holes – pathetic, despairing eyes which had to be met with a calm smiling face: ‘Soon have you right, old man – right old man – right old man.’
When we sat down to our cold meat and pickles each evening there would be another face missing.
‘Where’s Elton?’
‘On leave – her brother…’
‘Andrews?’
‘Her fiancé, I believe…’
In a couple of days they would be back again, tight-lipped and red-eyed as they delved and packed and bandaged.
Sometimes we gathered in one of the larger bedrooms to drink cocoa and grumble about the rudeness of a staff nurse or the tyranny of a sister or the dreariness of our meals, until one by one we crept yawning back to our beds to fall into a stunned sleep. There was no time to grieve.
In August the pace began to slacken a little, and we were occasionally sent off duty again. I dragged myself up to Alice’s one afternoon and she poured me cup after cup of tea, and kept refilling my plate as I ate in a daze. I showed her the last pencilled note from Robbie; he was still alive, and so was Guy. As I stood up to go she told me Conan was back in Town, and wanted to look me up one day. I stared at her vaguely. He must have trekked down to Wandsworth shortly after, because there was a note from him, delivered by hand while I was on duty. He asked when I would be free; I crumpled it up and trudged down to my room in the basement. There was no time.
Two days later, a broad-shouldered officer was hovering by the railings as we came back off duty. He spoke to the VAD in front; she turned and pointed at me. Cap in hand he drawled, ‘Say, are you the Lady Helena Girvan?’ I nodded and a great grin split his sunburnt face. ‘Am I glad to hear that – you’re the fiftieth girl I’ve spoken to – and each one prettier than the last. Your brother Rob said I’d find you here when he waved me goodbye yesterday afternoon – I left him sunning himself in a pretty little village called Vignacourt, way behind the line. The battalion have been pulled out for a rest – he said I must be sure to tell you.’ Relief flooded through me; Robbie would be safe for a while. ‘Now, you just wait here while I call a cab and I’ll take you someplace where you can rest those dainty little feet of yours.’
‘But we haven’t been introduced!’
He thrust out a large hand and seized hold of mine. ‘Frank Gardiner at your service, ma’am. I reckon that’ll do for an introduction – you just come right along now.’
He was so determined it was easier to follow him than to resist. He sat opposite me in the small restaurant and talked of Robbie and I drank in every word. Then he told me how sorry he had been about Eddie’s death. ‘He was a good buddy – always ready with a laugh and a joke. I’m from the mid-West myself – now a lot of your Limey officers are just bank clerks and such like – they barely know one end of a horse from the other. And stiff! My God, when you clap ’em on the back they go and wash their hands. Now your brother, he was a real man, he could ride and he sure knew how to handle a gun.’
I told him, ‘We hunted from the time we were children, and Eddie shot his first partridge at nine.’ I remembered his pride, and Robbie’s generous delight in his brother’s success – oh God, please keep Robbie safe. I shivered in the warm room and the man opposite leant forward and picked up the wine bottle and held it over my glass. ‘No more, thank you, Mr Gardiner – I don’t have a very good head for alcohol.’
‘You should try it – sometimes I reckon it’s the only thing that stands between me and the madhouse.’ His greenish eyes dulled, and we stared at each other bleakly. I saw his hand on the tablecloth tremble and put mine over it; his fingers were strong and warm. He shook himself like a dog coming out of a pond and said, ‘No use feeling sorry for ourselves, Lady Helena – I guess we’ve just gotter make the best of it while we can.’ He leant forward. ‘Let’s you and me paint the town red together, tomorrow night – how about that?’
I wanted to go, but I hesitated. ‘I’m not off duty until eight – and they lock the doors at ten-thirty, so I’m afraid we’d only manage a very pale pink in that time.’ He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Don’t you believe it – between us we’ll leave London as scarlet as an old-time soldier’s tunic.’
He escorted me back to the hostel and shook my hand very formally, but his face as he bent over me and whispered ‘Tomorrow!’ had the lean dark profile of a hawk and his eyes gleamed in the light of the dimmed lamp; I felt a mingled rush of apprehension – and excitement.
The ward was hot and stuffy, the sun beat down mercilessly on the iron roof and the men’s faces shone with sweat. Little Johnnie Lambert lay in his corner bed, slowly wasting away. The bones jutted out of his thin body as I sponged him down and his soft spaniel eyes watched me, helpless and supplicating. After I had tucked the single sheet securely round him I placed my hand against his downy cheek and he smiled and turned his face into my palm and closed his eyes. I stood beside him for a little while, then I heard Staff calling me, so I gently withdrew my hand and pushed the trolley back to the sink room.
Frank Gardiner was lounging against the hostel railings when I came round the corner. He sprang to attention and called, ‘Hiya, Princess – get your gladrags on and we’ll start painting.’
I did not want to go now, my head ached, but it was too difficult to refuse, so I quickly got changed, swept my hair up on top of my head and thrust my tired feet into soft kid shoes. As he helped me into the cab he said, ‘We’ll eat first, then go on to a little place I know, where we can dance.’ I tried to protest that I must be back by ten-thirty, but he only laughed, ‘Plenty of time, Princess – plenty of time.’ There was a predatory glint in his eye as he spoke and I felt a momentary flash of panic when he jumped in after me and his big rangy body sat close beside me on the seat. Then the smell of tobacco and shaving soap and healthy male sweat filled the cab and overwhelmed the traces of lysol and iodoform which always lingered in my nostrils, and I breathed in deeply and felt my senses stir. Without thinking I moved closer to him; he grinned ferociously and my breath caught in my throat.
At dinner I automatically put my hand over my glass again, but he gripped my wrist and lifted it off and poured in more wine. ‘Drink, Princess, drink.’ His greenish eyes mesmerized me so that I picked up the glass with my left hand and drank deeply; his broad fingers still pinned my other hand to the table; his palm was very warm. The wine took away my tiredness, I relaxed, I laughed, and the other diners receded and left me alone with a big square-shouldered man with narrowed green eyes and a wolfish grin. ‘The club first.’ He stood up and I wondered giddily why first? surely the meal had been first – but my head seemed curiously light and my headache had quite vanished, so I laughed as I stood up on legs which had turned to cotton wool and swayed against him. He put his strong arm around my waist and helped me from the restaurant – Mother would have been shocked, but then, Mother was not here. I giggled as Frank Gardiner helped me in to the cab and he laughed with me. In the close intimacy of the cab the male smell of him was utterly desirable and I leant towards him and said, ‘I want to smell you – you smell so nice.’ I knew I must sound ridiculous, but he did not seem to mind – he grinned and pulled me over to him until I was sprawling against his shoulder. I rubbed my cheek against the harsh cloth of his tunic.
He bent forward, muttering, ‘My bootlace is undone,’ but it was my shoe he was fumbling with and I giggled – fancy not knowing my foot from his! His hand slid up over my ankle and I realized he was stroking my calf, low down where the driver could not see. Dimly I knew I should not let strange American officers stroke my leg, but it did not seem to matter any more.
The cab drew to a halt and Frank Gardiner slowly withdrew his hand. As the driver called, ‘Here we are, sir,’ and jumped out, strong fingers squeezed my knee. ‘Hey, Princess are you sure you want to go to the club first – ’fore we go home?’
I nestled against him for a moment – I did not want to go home yet then I slid over to the open door. ‘OK, Lady – you’re in charge.’
The fresher air outside gave me a little shock, but he was at my elbow, guiding me down some steps. I said stupidly, ‘It’s a cellar – how can we dance in a cellar?’ but he did not answer. In the dim passageway his hand touched my thigh and it was like an electric shock. He stopped and pulled me against him.
‘We won’t stay long, Princess – just time for another drink and a dance – then it’s home to bed.’ I smiled up at him drowsily; we were alone in the passage and suddenly he caught me to his chest and bent down to find my lips. His tongue was in my mouth, and I wanted it there – I sucked at the salty taste of him, pressing myself against his body. Then there was the quick tap of high heels and he released me and tugged me on.
We came into a dark, smoky room; there were only a few lights up in the shadows but they hurt my eyes so I looked down at the table. He called for drinks – the liquid in my glass burnt my throat, but he made me drink it. Then he hauled me to my feet. ‘Time for one dance, Princess, before I take you home.’ He led me on to the tiny floor and pulled me tightly against his chest. It seemed a strange way to dance, but there were so many other couples I supposed it was the only way. We did not seem to move at all – we only swayed backwards and forwards in time to the strong rhythm – and every inch of his hard lean body pressed against mine.
A girl’s face swam before my eyes – it was painted like a doll: small pearly teeth gleamed as she laughed up at her companion, her curls were very blonde, too blonde. I recognized her for what she was and was vaguely wondering what she was doing here when Frank Gardiner was suddenly wrenched away from me. I stood, swaying, bereft of my support. Gardiner was shouting, ‘Hey – mind your back!’
A voice replied angrily, ‘What do you think you’re doing with my cousin?’ I recognized it – it was Conan’s. The yellow-haired girl stood, mouth agape, as Conan squared up to the burly American; she reached for my cousin’s arm, but he shook her hand off impatiently.
Frank Gardiner shouted, ‘She’s my girl for the evening.’ His voice was belligerent; I had to calm things down. But I had to think hard before I spoke and my tongue would scarcely form the words as I said, ‘It’s all right, Conan, Mr Gardiner was just about to take me back to the hostel.’
Gardiner’s head jerked up. Conan said scornfully, ‘Like hell he was.’
I repeated, ‘He said he’d take me home.’
Conan’s dark-blue eyes held mine for a moment; his expression was unreadable, then he breathed, ‘Christ, Hellie – whatever do they teach you at that ruddy hospital – knitting?’ He stepped in front of me. ‘Sorry, chum, but she’s my cousin and I’m taking her home.’
‘You Limey bastard – trying to snatch my girl – you with your fucking sneering voice – you think you own the whole bloody world!’ A fist swung out, Conan staggered back against me, the blonde squealed and clutched at my arm with long red talons. A space was forming on the crowded dance floor and the two men were circling round each other like a pair of dogs, fists balled – my mind refused to take it in. Then the doormen were elbowing their way through the crowd; one jumped for Gardiner just as the American launched a blow at Conan – Conan leapt aside as it slammed into his cheekbone – straight into the clutches of the other doorman.
‘Now now, sir – what’s all this about? We don’t want any trouble, do we?’
Frank Gardiner was swearing, a monotonous monologue of blasphemy. Conan took several deep breaths, then twisted round to smile at his captor. ‘Just a slight disagreement – this lady is my cousin’ – he jerked his head back to where I sagged behind him, clutching a chair – ‘the colonial gentleman’s language was becoming a trifle – ’ he raised his eyebrows in a rueful grin, ‘so she asked me to escort her home. Perhaps you’d be so good as to call a cab.’ The doorman had released Conan’s right arm and Conan was already feeling for his notecase.
The man smiled. ‘Hang on to yours, Fred,’ he called to his fellow, then he set Conan free and began to brush down his tunic. ‘No trouble, sir, no trouble at all.’ Conan swung round to me and held out his arm. ‘Helena?’ It was a command, and his blue eyes were hard as he looked at me. For a moment I was frightened; then I obediently put my hand on his sleeve.
A female voice shrilled out, ‘Con – where are you going – you said you’d give me a good time!’
He did not even look back. ‘Hard lines, Mona – you’d better try your luck with the New World.’ He thrust me out of the basement.
In the warm darkness of the cab I began to giggle, helplessly. Conan said, ‘Hellie, you’re tight as a newt.’
I could not stop giggling. ‘You looked so funny – fighting in the middle of a dance floor.’
Conan grunted; I could tell he was still annoyed. ‘I’ve got enough on my plate fighting the Germans – I prefer not to have to take on the blokes on our side – especially ones that size.’ He raised his fingers to his face and gingerly touched his cheekbone, and I saw the dark shadow of a bruise.
‘Oh, poor, poor Conan.’ I put my hand up to his face, then found myself stroking his uninjured cheek – it felt warm and alive, and my fingers slid down to caress the rougher skin of his jaw – he had such a nice jaw, I wanted to kiss it so I moved closer and before I knew what I was doing, my arms were around his slim firm body and I was clinging to him, my head buried in his neck. And I felt the forgotten sweetness rise in the pit of my belly, and began to quiver against the throbbing beat of his heart.
He slid his arm round me and held me clamped to his chest, then leant forward, rapped on the glass and called, ‘Change that, driver – Cavendish Mansions, Langham Street.’ I raised my head in surprise and saw his mouth curve up in the dim light of a street lamp as the driver reversed, then he checked that the glass was closed and said, ‘It’s not just drink that’s the matter with you, is it, Hellie? No wonder that Yank was putting up such a fight – I feel rather sorry for the bastard now. Anyway, I can’t take you back to that nunnery in this state – it’s lucky Russell lent me his rooms.’ He laughed and lifted me so that I was lying across his lap with my head on his shoulders; I clung to him mindlessly for the rest of the short journey.
Conan had to half-carry me out of the cab, and he bundled me quickly into the lift before the porter could reach us. In the small box I sank to the floor in a heap and gazed up at him. He leant against the panelled side and hummed tunelessly; he did not once look down at me. He held the lift door open with one foot and hauled me up. ‘Come on, my girl – you’ll have to try and walk, my gammy leg’s still playing me up.’ I stumbled into his rooms and stood swaying in the bright light. Conan went over to a standard lamp and switched it on, then the centre light mercifully went out.
‘Conan?’
‘I’m here, Hellie, don’t worry. Come on, let’s have you on the sofa.’ He steered me over and I collapsed into the cushions. He stood looking down at me for a long time, his face inscrutable, then he straightened up and turned away.
‘Conan, please don’t leave me!’
‘I’m not leaving you, Hellie.’ He spoke shortly. In a minute he came back in his shirtsleeves and breeches. ‘Now, let’s have some of this rigging off.’
I kept trying to cling to him as he undressed me, but he turned me briskly from side to side, dealing quickly with buttons and tapes until I was down to my camisole and drawers. Then, at last, he knelt down beside the sofa and put his arms round me and kissed me. At the feel of his lips on mine, my body caught fire, but then he drew back, until I writhed and pulled him hard against me – I knew I was moaning aloud but I did not care. His hand moved over the thin cotton of my camisole and came to rest on my belly, low down where the delicious sweetness was – he began to caress me there, and the pressure mounted until I was sobbing with the exquisite unbearable torment of it. Then, quickly, his lips came down on mine again and I felt the quick darting probe of his tongue in my mouth just as his hand pressed down, hard and I exploded in an ecstasy of release. As I felt the slippery wetness between my legs I began to cry with relief.
He wrenched my clinging hands from his neck, jumped up and strode away from me. I heard the door slam and I lay still, limp and lost. But he was soon back – he came and stood over me. ‘I suppose I’d better put you to bed now, Hellie.’ He pulled me up and just managed to carry me into his bedroom; he was panting as he rolled me between the sheets.
I lay there, looking up at him, and at last I whispered, timidly, ‘Don’t you – that is…’ I turned and hid my face in his pillow.
He said roughly, ‘There wouldn’t be much point in my stopping that Yankee swine sending you to France with a bastard in your belly if I went and did it myself.’ I began to cry and his voice softened a fraction. ‘Don’t worry, little cousin – I’ve seen to myself – since by now Mona is no doubt tucked up with your erstwhile suitor. I’d spent good money on that girl, too.’ He sounded aggrieved, so I murmured, ‘I’m sorry, Conan,’ and fell suddenly asleep.
I woke with a raging thirst and a splitting head; it was already light. I could not think where I was at first, then I suddenly remembered and jumped out of bed. My head bounced painfully, and I staggered a little, then my stomach heaved and I stumbled out in search of the bathroom.
I was retching over the bowl of the WC when a voice behind me said, ‘Well, well – so retribution has struck.’ Conan stood in the doorway, a cigarette in his hand, watching me. I huddled back against the wall, trying to pull my camisole round me. He grinned sardonically. ‘It’s a bit late for modesty now, fair Coz – you’d better get back to bed – my bed – and sleep it off.’
I swallowed, then asked, ‘What time is it?’
He took out his watch. ‘Nearly a quarter to seven – why?’
I dragged myself up by the edge of the bath, and stood swaying. ‘I’m on at half-past.’
‘You’re surely not going back in that state?’
‘I must, Conan – there was a convoy due in last night.’
He leant across me and turned on the shower jets. ‘Get under that then - I’ll fetch your clothes.’
I pulled off my camisole and drawers and scrambled into the bath; I yelped as the jets hit me, the water was icy cold – but I knew he was right, so I stood shivering and let them wash over me. A hand came round the door and my clothes were unceremoniously dumped on the floor. I reached for the towel. As soon as I began to struggle into my clothes I realized that he had forgotten my corset – but I was too embarrassed to call out for it, and besides there was no time, so I knotted my stocking tops and hoped for the best. I ran through the doorway still jabbing in hairpins; Conan was waiting in the hall. He held out my hat and ran to open the door. ‘There’s a cab waiting downstairs.’ I fell into the lift.
I told the driver to stop round the corner from the hostel, with a prayer of thankfulness that my room was in the basement. I swayed as I climbed over the railings – but others had done it and so could I. There was no time to look for a clean corset as I threw on my uniform – I tied elastic above my knee and flew out of the bedroom. The housekeeper was at her desk; I cried through the open door, ‘I’m sorry – I overslept,’ and ran to the waiting cab.
I felt sick and shaken all day – I could scarcely keep up with my routine. Johnnie Lambert caught hold of my hand but I snatched it away – ‘Don’t be so silly!’ – then waves of shame engulfed me as I saw the look on his face. But somehow I got through the day, and pulled myself up the hill to the hostel by the railings.
A carelessly wrapped brown paper parcel had been left for me – I knew what was in it as soon as I saw Conan’s scrawling handwriting. I picked up the note which fell out.
Helena, my pet,
This gets a trifle monotonous. Why don’t you just throw the damn things away? With your figure nobody’ll notice.
Your loving cousin,
Conan.
He was right, nobody had noticed. I picked up my abandoned corsets and rammed them into the waste-paper basket. Then I looked back at Conan’s note there was a P.S.:
If you can’t hold your liquor like a gentleman, my sweet, keep off it.
Then he had added a second PS:
The medical board passed me fit this morning, but I’m sick of slogging it out on the ground, so I’ve applied to transfer to the RFC.
I sat down on my narrow bed and began to cry - for Eddie, for Lance, for all who had died and all who would die. And painfully, rackingly, and in shame I wept for Gerald - Gerald, my pure strong lover.
I bought a sateen band with suspenders hanging from it to keep my stockings up - it was much cooler. Conan came to see me, before he went off to learn to fly; he was just the same as ever. We had tea together and walked on the common, then he kissed my cheek, just as my brothers always did, and waved to me as I went back to the hospital. The next day I looked at the notice- board as usual and saw my name was down for an overseas posting. Just two days after my twenty-third birthday I left for France.