A fortnight passed before their orders came in. They were all exhausted, but gradually the work at the palace had diminished as the soldiers were shipped out to prison camps or, in the case of the Germans, back to their homes, to re-join their regiment once they were fully recovered.
Two envelopes had been waiting for them when they returned to the hotel that evening: one was addressed to Flora, and the other to Phyllis. Opening hers, Flora told them: ‘I, Mags and Ella are to go to a hospital in Charleroi, to join a British Red Cross matron and two nurses. There’s no mention of you four, so I assume your orders are in your letter, Phyllis.’
‘Oh, blow. I hope we are all to stay together.’ Phyllis ripped open the envelope as she said this. ‘Not to be. Martha, Teddy, Jane and I are to go to Marcinelle.’ There was a collective muttering of regret from them all that they were to separate. It was Jane, a small girl, very shy, but with a sweet nature, who surprised them all by expressing a hope that they would meet up in the future. They all agreed, and then were further surprised when Martha, who, like Jane, hadn’t expressed much of an opinion on anything up to now, suggested they all exchange addresses in any case so they would be able to make contact with each other.
Flora smiled at both Jane and Martha, and although she hadn’t interacted much with them – mainly due to Phyllis being their spokesman, and Teddy’s gregarious personality overshadowing them – she knew her bond with them was just as deep as it was with the more outgoing Phyllis and Teddy.
‘Hold on, I’ll go to the bar and see if I can get a bottle of wine. We need something to help us relax with this news, and to celebrate meeting each other.’ Teddy grabbed her handbag and made for the door.
Nothing daunted Teddy, but it was Mags’s reaction to Teddy’s suggestion that warmed Flora’s heart, as a bit of her old spark showed when she called after Teddy, ‘Jolly good idea, Teddy, girl. Make it two. We’re not being picked up till tomorrow at ten – we can recover by then.’
After they were all in their pyjamas, they opened the wine. As they sipped from the cups that they used for their tea, they relaxed in the convivial atmosphere.
‘These bread rolls are delicious. I was starving. Flora, if you get a chance, will you thank the manager for his kindness?’
‘I will, Phyllis. Now, how about a sing-song? No goodbye-night is complete without one. If I had a piano, I would play for you. I so miss my music.’
In the next hour they belted out popular numbers and giggled at silly jokes.
‘Well, I don’t know about you all, but I’m completely bushed.’
‘Me, too, Teddy. And look at Mags – she’s curled up like a baby, bless her.’
As Flora said this, Ella pulled a blanket off her own bed and covered Mags with it.
‘Let us hope she has a better night, as none of us know what we have to face tomorrow, and it will be easier for her if she is rested.’
Flora agreed with Ella. ‘The poor lamb has cleaned a mound of bedpans today, and she joined in the singing and enjoyed her wine, so there’s every hope that she will rest well. I know I will. I can hardly keep my eyes open.’
The journey took just over an hour. Parts of it were along rough farm tracks, and caused the girls to be shaken about like rag dolls. Acrid smoke rasped the back of Flora’s eyes as they finally alighted from the van.
They stood in front of the Grand Hôpital de Charleroi and looked around them. Crumpled, windowless buildings, some bleeding water as if they were tears, others belching smoke from smouldering fires, gave a picture of what had happened here as the battle to take Brussels had raged. Gunfire rumbled in the distance, putting new fear into Flora as she realized that the fighting wasn’t as far away as it had been.
No sooner had they arrived than they were informed that there were no English Red Cross workers at the Grand, and were given the addresses of three more hospitals that they could try. After receiving the same reception at two more hospitals, Flora was almost ready to give up. ‘I’m beat, girls, what about you? The order we received must have been out of date – our matron must have moved on.’
‘We’ll try the last hospital. There may be news,’ Ella suggested.
They all agreed they should, and set off once more.
With her feet burning from the miles they had walked, Flora approached the last hospital on their list.
‘Oh, they left here for Marcinelle a couple of days ago. It seemed their need was greater than ours, as we are getting on top of things now. The fighting has moved and we’ve had no new cases.’
Flora felt defeated. ‘How far is Marcinelle?’
One of the nurses answered, a round-faced girl, whose smile told of her kind nature. She spoke in English, which was a relief to Flora. ‘It’s about eight kilometres away, but you look all in and it’s getting dark. Look, I’m about to leave for home. Come with me – my mother will put you all up for the night. My name’s Helga. I live in an apartment near the Sambre River, six kilometres from here. I get a lift with Monsieur Monres, who is a cleaner in the hospital and lives near me. There is plenty of room in his trap for you all.’
This kind offer almost helped to soothe Flora’s feeling of utter desolation.
As the horse trundled along, the terrible aftermath of the battle was laid bare across the town. There were soulless folk with nowhere to go; others crying and trying to salvage something from their homes; and all to the background noise of shells being fired in the near distance. It made Flora think of the wounded soldiers in the Royal Palace of Brussels, who had left their mark on her.
Helga’s mother made them very welcome. The apartment was on the ground floor, with a view over the river through its front window. There was one room that served as the kitchen and sitting room. Sparsely furnished, it held a scrubbed table with four chairs pushed under it, and two sofas in a beige colour. On one wall was a blackleaded stove, a sink and a dresser. A door led off the room next to the stove and this, Flora saw, when Helga’s mother went into it, was a pantry, but although there wasn’t much furniture, the room didn’t look bare. The walls were hung with pictures and brasses, and shelving held all manner of ornaments, from a set of traditionally dressed Dutch dolls to a colourful vase.
Helga’s mother was introduced as Madame Eline. She’d prepared a delicious stew, made from lamb cutlets, potatoes and vegetables. Flora felt a pang of guilt that this might have been meant to last them a few days, but she was so hungry, she ate the generous portion Madame Eline dished up to her.
Tired beyond words, they all accepted the offer of retiring after supper. The bedroom belonged to Helga and contained a huge bed that was big enough for the three of them. Helga, who had made no mention of a father, said she would sleep with her mother.
The girls lay awake for hours, chatting occasionally about what they should do, but mostly disturbed by the never-ending sounds of war.
A scream from Ella, as the house shook from a nearby shell explosion, doubled the shock Flora felt. Instinctively they huddled together, their fear tangible.
None of them spoke, as the world they used to know tumbled further into a place that held fear of their own deaths. The room lit up with a glow from houses that had taken a hit, while the space around them filled with screams of terror and despair.
Mags sat up. ‘I can’t stand this. Let’s dress and see if we are needed.’
They all agreed, and were dressed in their uniforms in no time. Outside their room, they met Helga and her mother, who was wrapped in a shawl and was begging Helga not to go out.
In French, Helga implored her mother to try to understand. ‘Look, the girls are ready, too – we may be needed. We are nurses, it is our job.’
Outside, the world had turned to a searing hell. The girls hardly knew which way to turn, but a desperate plea had them running over to a building opposite. ‘Help me!’
Lit up by the fires, the night seemed as if it was day. Scrambling over rubble, they came across a woman crushed under a pile of bricks, from what Flora assumed must have been her house.
‘Mon bébé. Mon bébé.’
Understanding this, Ella’s desperate voice shouted, ‘Where? Oh, Flors, ask her where her baby is.’
Helga had already done so, and Flora translated to Ella and Mags that the woman had said her child, a boy, was under the bricks. Taking charge, Helga asked the girls to do all they could to find him, while she tended to the woman.
‘Flora, ask if there was anyone else in the house.’
Flora did as Ella requested and spoke directly to the woman, who was able to tell them that it was just her and her baby, as her husband was away in the army. Flora looked over at the rubble that was once the woman’s house and her heart sank.
They’d been working for about ten minutes, frantically clawing at the bricks, some so hot that they burned, others jagged so that they cut their hands, but nothing hindered them in their desperate bid to find the baby.
‘Oh God, no!’
Flora stiffened, not wanting to ask Mags what she’d found. Turning, she saw her lift a bundle. Please, God, don’t let it be the child.
‘I’ve found him, poor soul.’
Clambering over the rubble, Flora and Ella got to Mags at the same time, but before they could see what Mags could, a flash from an explosion threw them all to the ground. Trembling as she spat dust from her mouth and wiped it from her eyes, Flora looked up, trying to see the others. Mags lay next to her. The bundle, now exposed, showed a dead infant, bruised and torn. A cry escaped her. Where her strength came from she didn’t know, but she flailed her arms in the air, hitting out at nothing but the horror of all that was happening.
‘Are you girls all right?’
Helga stood over them, her cheek bleeding. The sight of her brought Flora out of her shock, straight back into professional mode. She stood and checked the other two, who were getting to their feet, too, and found that apart from a few scrapes of their skin, they were all fine.
‘How is the woman, Helga?’
Helga shook her head.
Mags still held the baby’s body. She wrapped the blanket back around him. As she climbed over the rubble, they all followed her. Bending down, Mags lifted the woman’s arm and placed her baby son under it.
They stood for a moment. Four nurses, who were meant to be strong, undone by the sight. An arm came round Flora and she looked up into Helga’s face. Tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘Did you know her, Helga?’
‘Yes. She hadn’t lived here long. I spoke to her for the first time this morning as I left for work. Her name was Raquel and her son was called Josen. I – I . . .’
Flora waited, as she could see that Helga was struggling with her emotions.
A group of older men came over to them. ‘We have ambulances and firefighters on the way, Nurses, we’ll take over here. There’s a family over there who need your help.’
Somehow they got through, giving first-aid where they could and seeing patients off to hospital. Sheets were used as bandages, and various ointments and cleansing fluids, as well as painkillers, were brought out to them by the local pharmacist.
Flora wondered if she would ever feel anything ever again, other than shock, horror, fear and extreme tiredness.
The next day, as the three of them sat in the car of a friend of Helga’s, having said their goodbyes to her, Flora pondered over how many young women she’d come across since leaving home. All of them were so brave in adapting to the new world they found themselves in. Where have the lives that we planned gone? This isn’t how it was meant to be.
The car came to a halt at the request of a German soldier. The driver spoke German and took a moment to explain his business and show his papers. The soldier looked through the car window at them, then nodded. ‘He says he appreciates the difficult work you are doing, far from home. He, too, is far from home and having a difficult time.’
Flora thought about the Germans she’d met at the hotel. She wound down the window and smiled at the young man. Not much older than her, he looked uncomfortable, but then he smiled back when she used her little German to thank him: ‘Vielen Dank.’
When they finally arrived at the hospital they found the British Red Cross matron and the nurses all desperately worn out. They were told there was little equipment, and that up to fifty wounded had been brought in only that morning.
‘Are there four more nurses here from England? They should have arrived yesterday?’ Flora whispered to the harassed matron.
‘Did you know them?’ She looked up and bit hard on her lip.
Flora felt sick. ‘Yes, why – what happened?’
‘They were in an accident on the way. I’m very sorry, but they were all killed.’
‘No . . . no . . . Oh God!’
Both Mags and Ella clung to Flora. She looked into their haggard faces and wanted to scream out the pain inside her. How was it possible? Those lovely girls. Why, why?
‘Come along now, there is work to be done. I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t know them, but we badly needed them here. It is a tragedy – may their souls rest in peace. Now, I’m sorry if I sound callous, but we must focus. I need you to prepare any Germans, as they are to be evacuated. They are all in the ward across the corridor. We have been told that trucks are picking them up in about an hour. Make sure any open wounds are cleaned and dressed. Splint any obvious broken bones, and administer pain-relief to those needing it the most. There is a tray of medication over there.’
Looking at them properly for the first time, Matron added, ‘Run and change your uniforms first. I am going to assume there is a good reason for making your appearance in such a dirty condition? You can report later.’ In French she shouted to an orderly, a young girl who looked no more that fifteen, ‘Take these girls to the bathroom, then deliver them some uniforms from the stores, but hurry.’
Once the Germans had been shipped off, the workload eased, and Matron invited them to sit with her and, over a welcome cup of tea, tell her what had happened to them. She commended them on their foresight and bravery, before telling them to look on the German evacuation as an indication that the Allies were making headway. ‘They wouldn’t move the Germans out, if not. So overall the news is probably good. Now, I want you all to rest well tonight, because tomorrow I will need you to bear the brunt of the work, while I rest my nurses. I have a feeling that we, too, will be shipping out soon. As the war moves, so do we. Your first job in the morning is to heat as much water as you can. There is no running hot water here. Wash down all the mattresses that the Germans were lying on; many of the Allied soldiers are lying just on bedsprings, as there were not enough mattresses to go round and, while the Germans held the upper hand, they took precedence.’
This shocked Flora and, without asking the others, she felt that she had to speak up on their behalf. It was funny, but in the few short weeks they’d known each other, she knew they would be thinking the same as she was. ‘Matron, may we do that now? I can’t bear to think of those soldiers putting up with one more hour in such discomfort, let alone a whole night.’
As Matron started to protest, both Ella and Mags joined in agreement with Flora.
‘Very well. And, girls, you are doing your uniforms proud. Thank you.’
The stiffness had now gone out of Matron. Her stance softened and a lovely smile lit her face, turning her from a plain care-worn woman into a lovely, approachable one.
Once they had all the soldiers settled, they made cocoa and sat together, talking about Phyllis, Teddy, Jane and Martha. It seemed they were devoid of tears and emotion, as they didn’t cry, but remembered the goodbye-night and vowed they would always remember the other girls.
There were more shocks at noon the next day, as Matron announced that her prediction had come true and that she and her two nurses were to be shipped out. She wasn’t sure where to, but she’d been assured it was unlikely there would be any further casualties brought to the hospital, as the fighting had moved too far away.
‘I am leaving you in charge, Flora, as you speak the soldiers’ language and can cope with any communications that come in, which will most likely be in French. I don’t anticipate that it will be long before you are all moved on. There are plans to close our operations here, due to the lack of equipment, et cetera.’
Within an hour the nurses had left, with Matron kindly agreeing to see that the letter Flora had written to the grandmother of Elvan, the soldier whose hand she had held as he passed away, got to the Red Cross headquarters. Flora hoped that from there it would eventually reach its destination in France. This gave her closure of her time in the Royal Palace, though she knew she wouldn’t ever forget Elvan, and felt sad that he would never step on French soil again.
Turning from the open door, through which they had waved Matron and her party off, Flora sighed. ‘Well, that’s us carrying the cart then, girls!’
‘It is, Matron Flors. Where do you want us, and what do you want us to do?’
They all burst out laughing at this. ‘Ha, I’ve been promoted already. Nurse Mags, I want you to scrub every floor in the hospital with a nail-brush and, Nurse Ella, you are to wash the bottom of every patient!’
Their laughter rang out. Calls of ‘What’s so funny?’ and the sound of men laughing, even though they didn’t know what at, filled the two occupied wards.
‘Seriously, I think I should go from bed to bed with a notebook and pen and talk to each patient. Just to make my own assessment of each one’s needs. Matron indicated that it was only basic nursing care, for those left in our charge. Well, we can manage that, can’t we?’
There was nothing immediate that posed more than they could manage, and Flora’s confidence grew. She numbered the beds, then made a list with corresponding numbers for Ella and Mags to follow – dressings would need changing, medication would need to be given out, and general keeping clean and comfortable seemed the order of the day for most of the men.
One young man posed them more of a problem. His temperature was high, yet his body was cold.
‘I’ll ask the orderlies and the kitchen staff to see if there is a doctor we can call on. I’m worried about him,’ Flora said.
Mags and Ella agreed. Mags, being the most experienced, ordered that they set an orderly to douse the soldier’s body in cold water, as a first-line measure.
With night orderlies in attendance, the girls sat in the kitchen, eating the delicious casserole that had been left in a pan for them.
‘I don’t feel a bit tired. I feel as though I’m buzzing, which is the best I’ve felt since we arrived in Belgium.’
‘That’s good to hear, Ella. I feel the same, and I’d love to stroll out and find a bar. I could just down a nice glass of wine.’
‘Not sure I want to go that far, Mags.’ Flora laughed. ‘But, yes, I feel the same. Uplifted somehow. It was good to hear that doctor praise us, saying we had probably saved that soldier’s life.’
‘Yes, and good to know that there are resources out there to help us. I was relieved when the doctor decided he should be taken to a better hospital. I think it’s bad form that we are left on our own.’
‘We’ll manage, and Matron said it wouldn’t be for long. I know, how about I play that piano that stands in the hall? The soldiers will be able to hear it, if we open the doors.’
‘Spiffing, as my old teacher would say. What do you think, Ella?’
Ella laughed. ‘That would be wonderful. And couldn’t we send the orderly for a few jugs of ale for the men?’
‘Done! Come on.’
Flora was surprised when, within a few minutes of the orderly leaving the building, ten jugs of ale were delivered by the owner of the bar down the road, and by a few of his customers. ‘Glad to help the men who fought so bravely, and you girls of course. We’ll collect the empty jugs tomorrow.’
As Flora played tunes ranging from ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’ to ‘Alexander’s Ragtime Band’, laughter, applause and even a little dancing, by the more able-bodied, turned the hospital into a place of fun.
Most of the tunes she played from memory, some she had to improvise. But however she got there, every note seared through her, bringing her joy.