“Ooh, that’s grand like”

It’s the new year of 1918; Tom is sitting by his bed reading. They had a reasonable Christmas there in the ward, but most of all, he misses his wife. But joy comes to him this particular morning when Ellen walks pushing a pram.

“Hello Tom” she says

Tom jumps up and throws his arms around her, and then he starts to choke.

Ellen is worried “are you alright?”

Tom sits back down, wheezes then says “I’m fine, it’s just the gas. I’m alright really”

Once he gets his breathe back he asks “who’s that?”

“Meet your new daughter” Ellen picks her up from the pram

“Our daughter?” replies Tom

“Yes. This is little Ivy”

“Ivy” Tom has to catch his breathe “it’s a lovely name”.

Ellen asks how Tom is; he replied “I’m alright….sort of. I’m afraid I will be ill for quite a while”.

Suddenly, the soldier across the room starts to yell and throw his arms around. Ellen watches, feeling the fear rise up inside her; she clasps the baby closer to her. Nurses come in and calm the man down. She looks slowly round the room; there are men with no legs, men with bandages covering their faces, men with an arm missing. The realisation hits her that this is the effects of war and that men don’t just die. Some live with horrible injuries.

“You alright?” she asks Tom

“Yes, I’m fine” Tom thinks it would be a good idea not to let Ellen know the full severity of his injuries.

“You haven’t got anything missing, have you?”

“No, nothing missing. I’m all there” he pulls up his pyjama legs and twirls his feet.

Ellen looks relieved then says “your father’s well. He’s made a full recovery”

Tom smiles “that’s great”