‘I assure you, Nurse Robertson, I am more than capable of building a simple backdrop for the Christmas show.’
Phoebe rested her clenched hands on her hips and gritted her teeth. He really was the most impossible man, if also one of the most attractive. Her sister’s words came to her when she smiled at him, but still irritated with Celia for not even trying to understand, Phoebe pushed them away. She liked Archie and she had seen only too clearly while at this hospital how short some lives could be. Phoebe had no intention of letting her miserable sister take away any chance of happiness she might possibly have with Archie, however brief.
‘Captain Bailey, if you do not do as you’re told and stay in your bed, then you leave me no option but to report you to Sister Taylor.’ Phoebe had to concentrate on not letting the amusement she was truly feeling show. ‘You are supposed to be resting.’
He sat back on his bed and folded his arms, grimacing in pain when the quick movement snagged at his wound on the side of his torso.
All amusement vanished and Phoebe rushed forward to check he was all right. ‘Please, take things a little easier. You might be healing well, but you don’t want to pull the wound and risk tearing it open, now do you?’
He shook his head, his face ashen. ‘That was ruddy stupid of me.’ He groaned and she helped him back into bed.
Feeling sorry for him, and aware that to have come from battle and be expected to lie still for most of the day must be nothing less than torment after a few weeks, especially when the patient was feeling much better, she knew she needed to relent and involve him in some way. But how? Phoebe gave it some thought as she arranged his pillows in an effort to make him as comfortable as possible.
‘I know!’ she said, surprising him by her unexpected exclamation.
‘What?’ He gave her a hopeful smile. ‘You’ve changed your mind?’ He grabbed the edge of his cover and went to throw it back.
Phoebe caught his hand and stilled it. ‘No, I haven’t.’ She saw his face fall. ‘But I do have an idea that might keep you busy for a few more days, to help your side heal just a little bit more. Once it’s slightly better, I’ll ask Sister if you can be allowed out of your bed for a period of time to come and help.’
His face softened. ‘Go on, then. What’s this idea of yours?’
‘You said you’re an architect and if I recall correctly, you did offer to help design the backdrop.’
‘That’s right, I did, didn’t I?’
‘Maybe you didn’t really want to.’
‘I do want to,’ he said, the expression on his face kind. ‘I want to help you.’
She was thrown by the look in his eyes for a few seconds. Could he be as attracted to her as she was to him, she wondered. ‘Um, either way, if I bring you a pad and pencils, will you design something? Then once that’s done, I can take it to Matron and we can find a couple of orderlies to start collecting whatever we need to make it, and you can instruct them about how best to build the backdrop. What do you think?’ She didn’t really need to ask, because he was already smiling and looking much happier than he had done seconds before.
‘I think you’re very perceptive, clever … and very pretty,’ he said, whispering and quickly looking about him, ‘… and a very kind lady, Nurse Robertson,’ he added, taking her hand in his.
Phoebe’s stomach flipped at his touch. She told herself not to be so silly. She was supposed to be acting in a professional manner and not like some love-sick schoolgirl, though she couldn’t help relishing every second that his hand was wrapped around hers. It was a strong, comforting hand and when she looked up from where his fingers were on hers, their eyes locked. Phoebe couldn’t mistake the look in his eyes this time. She gasped and covered her mouth with her free hand.
‘I’m glad you feel the same way,’ he murmured.
What was it about him that made her feel so deeply for him? Was it the fact that anything could happen at any moment to take him away from here?
Phoebe tried to steady her breath. She couldn’t let Sister see them this way. ‘No, this isn’t right.’
‘But you do feel something for me, I can see it in your eyes.’
She swallowed to try and speak. ‘I’m here to care for you.’
‘And you do that well.’ He let go of her hand and she instantly missed his touch. ‘I’m sorry. I was wrong to put you in that position. Please forgive me.’
She folded her arms protectively across her chest. ‘There is nothing to forgive. You are right, I do feel the same way as I assume you do for me.’
‘You do?’
She raised a finger to her lips. ‘Shush, you must keep your voice down. I would be sent home in an instant if Sister suspected anything was happening between the two of us, and I can’t face going home, not yet anyway.’
He frowned. ‘I’m sorry, I should be more thoughtful.’ He smiled. ‘But I want you to know how happy you’ve made me.’
‘I’m … um … pleased,’ she said, unsure how exactly to respond. ‘Now I must move on and do some work.’
‘I know.’ He leaned forward slightly when she bent to pick up the pencil she had dropped. ‘Will you tell me your first name? I promise not to use it if anyone is within earshot.’
Phoebe thought it only fair, since she knew his name from his records. ‘All right then. It’s Phoebe.’
‘Phoebe,’ he whispered. ‘Such a beautiful name and a perfect one for you.’
She was glad he thought so. ‘Thank you.’
‘As you know, my name is Archie.’ He pulled a face. ‘Archibald, after my father, but thankfully my family call me Archie to differentiate between the two of us.’
‘I think it’s a lovely name,’ she said. ‘Now I really must be going. Would you like me to try and find you a fresh notepad and some pencils?’
‘No, thank you. I have my own here. I’ll have a think while I’m waiting and try to come up with something suitable for the event.’
Phoebe moved on to the next patient and helped him change, as he’d suffered a misfortune with a glass of water spilling down his pyjama top. The whole time she was aware of Archie lying in the next bed and wondered what he was thinking about. However tiring it had been planning the show during her off-shift hours, Phoebe had a new spark of enthusiasm, knowing that Archie would now be part of the preparations.
The door to the ward opened and two orderlies rushed inside, followed by a concerned-looking Matron. Phoebe recognised that expression, as there was never a day when they didn’t have new patients arriving at the hospital, despite the Somme Offensive having finally been brought to a conclusion the previous month. She sighed heavily.
‘We were wrong to presume that there would be fewer casualties after November,’ she said to Hetty, who had come to help rearrange the ward yet again, to find what little space they could to fit in yet more beds.
‘We were,’ Hetty said as she pulled a pillowcase onto one of the pillows on the next bed. ‘I’d never heard of trench foot before coming here, and some of the cases I’ve seen this past week alone have been enough to turn my stomach.’
Phoebe tried to force away from her mind the terrible swellings and nephritis she hadn’t imagined possible before coming to work at the hospital. ‘It’s the low temperatures and the dreadful weather that’s not helping,’ she said. ‘That, and the meagre nutrition these poor men are expected to survive on.’
‘And having permanently wet feet. Ergh.’ Hetty shuddered. ‘It’s no wonder they’re making their way here in droves.’
For once, Phoebe was glad that Archie was still not well enough to even be considered for returning to the Front. At least here he was safe … well, as safe as any of them were, with the air bombardments they were experiencing of late. ‘We’d better get a move on, so the first ones can be brought in here and made comfortable.’
* * *
After finishing preparing the ward, they went to welcome the new arrivals, Phoebe carrying a large tray holding mugs of strong, sweet tea and biscuits. She looked at the rows of men waiting for attention and sadness swept through her. The exhausted, filthy soldiers mostly sat in subdued silence, their hollow eyes staring at no particular sight as the orderlies did their best to pull off their boots. Boots so caked in mud that the nurses were not expected to try and remove them, because they simply would not have the strength. Phoebe tensed each time she saw a foot being withdrawn. She had seen many toes falling off when that happened due to the terrible trench foot, and it never got easier to witness.
Giving herself a mental shake, she made her way from one man to the next, handing out a mug and a biscuit and giving each of them a smile, trying her best to let them know that they were now somewhere where they could expect to be cleaned, looked after, and where their weary bodies and troubled minds could hopefully find some relief from all that they had been facing.
Several of the soldiers had deep, painful-sounding coughs and Phoebe recognised the bronchitis that had begun to plague many of the new arrivals. She hoped she didn’t succumb to it, especially now that several of the nursing staff and one doctor had already done so. It wasn’t surprising, she thought; they were all exhausted and struggling to find the strength to fit more into their routine each day.
‘Good morning…’ She tried to read the man’s rank on his arm but his uniform was so filthy that it was almost impossible. ‘Captain?’ These poor men needed to be stripped of their soaking uniforms as soon as possible if they weren’t to catch their death.
‘That’s right, Nurse.’ He smiled, displaying a row of chipped and mostly rotten teeth. He took the tea from her hand and cupped it between his fingers gratefully before breathing in the smell. ‘This will perk me up a bit,’ he said, as if he had suffered no more than a mere inconvenience.
She lowered the tray slightly so that he could see the tin of biscuits better. ‘Take a biscuit too,’ she said. ‘They’re not too bad, and I’m sure you haven’t eaten in a while.’
‘Not anything worth eating, Nurse.’ He gave a tired laugh. ‘I can’t tell you how good it is to be here, out of the rain.’
She smiled. ‘I’m glad. Don’t worry, we’ll have you cleaned up and in a warm bed in no time.’
His face brightened. ‘You’re an angel,’ he said. ‘The lot of you ladies are. Thank you.’
Phoebe had to swallow her tears at his kind words as she moved on to the next man. These men had been through a living hell and were sitting here shivering, exhausted and battle weary, and still found it in themselves to thank her for a cup of tea and a biscuit. And she had thought herself tired.
* * *
She and the other women had planned to meet up to go through their progress for the concert arrangements, but by seven o’clock they were all still helping to assess the new influx of patients.
‘I don’t know why we don’t simply cancel the concert,’ Verity said.
Verity had been sent from her usual ward to help settle the new patients, and Phoebe noticed the strain on her colleague’s face, certain it hadn’t been there the previous day. Or maybe it had been and she was simply too wrapped up in her own tiredness and worries to have noticed. The thought made her feel guilty.
Her thoughts were interrupted by nearby coughing, and Phoebe turned to look for the person responsible, as they sounded as if they were struggling to catch their breath. Noticing a young soldier who looked to be little more than seventeen and with barely any weight on his body to lose, she went to help him. His eyes were large and panic-filled and she suspected that helping him to relax slightly would be the most beneficial thing she should do first.
‘Let me help you sit up,’ she said, keeping her voice calm as she took him by the top of one arm and gently pulled him forward, indicating for Verity to grab a spare pillow and bring it to her to place behind his back.
‘Please bring a bowl of hot water, a towel and some coal tar,’ she asked after thanking Verity.
Several minutes later, Phoebe was sitting on a chair next to the private who was holding the bowl of steaming liquid on his lap and was bent over it, a towel over his head to keep the steam to a maximum.
‘That’s it,’ Phoebe soothed. ‘Breathe in slow, deep breaths and try to relax.’
Twenty minutes later she took away the bowl and slowly lowered the young man to lean back against his pillows. ‘Is that better?’
He nodded and held his handkerchief up to his mouth. ‘Yes, thank you.’
‘Bronchitis is not very pleasant but I think we should try that again tomorrow, as it will help.’
He coughed again but the redness in his face dissipated slightly. ‘I’ve ’ad this comin’ on for a couple o’ weeks. It’s wrung me out, it ’as.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Phoebe said. ‘But you’re in the best place here,’ she added. ‘You need to make the most of the rest and let us take care of you.’
He smiled for the first time, and she was reminded that he might be a soldier, but he was still little more than a boy, and so similar to how her brother Charlie had once been that her heart hitched in pain.
‘You’re very kind, Nurse.’
‘Try to get some sleep, if you can.’
‘I don’t recall the last time I ’ad a proper night’s sleep,’ he said, his voice muffled behind his handkerchief.
‘Well, we’ll have to make sure you get your fair share while you’re here then, won’t we?’
As she turned, she spotted Archie watching her. He gave her a smile and after checking to see where Sister was, Phoebe grabbed a jug of water and went over to him on the pretext of filling his glass.
She poured the water and returned his smile. ‘How are you feeling today, Captain?’
‘Sister says my wounds are improving slowly but steadily, and I can’t ask for more than that.’
‘That’s good news.’ She was happy to hear he was making progress but knew that with every improvement, Archie was one step closer to being discharged, and if his calf healed as well as Doctor Marshall hoped, then he would be returned to the Front rather than home to Blighty. It seemed wrong to hope that men didn’t completely recover, but it also meant that they might return to the safety of mainland Britain and their homes and loved ones – and that, as far as she was concerned, was the best option, especially for him.