Thanks to Mr Gold taking me in his car, I got to the hospital early so I decided to make the most of my time and take the book round to the airmen. Because they’d all been eager to write letters to their families, I thought they would embrace the idea of writing in the notebook and I hoped their enthusiasm would rub off on the other patients. It was worth a try anyway.
So, as soon as I arrived, I hurried out to the new huts where the airmen were.
‘I’m Nurse Watson,’ I said to the Red Cross nurse who was filling in forms at the nurses’ station just by the door. She was an older woman, probably in her early fifties. I recalled her being efficient and caring on the day the airmen had arrived. ‘I helped set up the beds when the patients arrived?’
She looked up and me and smiled. ‘I remember. I’m Nurse Cassidy. Call me Judith.’
‘I’m Elsie,’ I said.
‘What can I do for you, Elsie?’
I showed her the book. ‘My friend Nelly and I wrote some letters to the families of your men who were too injured to be able to write for themselves,’ I explained.
‘I heard,’ she said with a smile. ‘That was very kind.’
‘Chatting with the men that day, and writing the letters, made us think that some of the patients might want to share memories. Or have some words written down in case of the worst. So I’ve brought a notebook for them to write in.’
‘What a lovely idea. They’ll be so pleased. And I’m pleased they’ll have something to do.’ She leaned over the desk and lowered her voice. ‘Some of them are feeling better already and between you and me, they’re beginning to get a bit cheeky. Pushing the boundaries, you know?’
That made me think about Jackson who didn’t appear to have any boundaries, and I felt a little queasy. ‘They’re not bothering you, are they?’
Judith rolled her eyes. ‘Nothing I can’t handle, bless them. They’re just boys, aren’t they? Most of them are younger than my own kids. Poor lambs.’
I felt my shoulders relax. Honestly, I’d got myself in such a tizz over Jackson when he was the same. Just a young man, coping as best he could in a strange situation.
‘Go on in,’ Judith said. ‘They’ll be pleased to see you.’
Nodding my thanks, I took my notebook and went into the ward. There was a buzz of energy there. Some of the airmen were sleeping. Others were reading, lying on top of their bedsheets. A couple were sitting on adjacent beds playing cards. I looked for Harry and was pleased when I saw him in his bed. He was sitting up but his head was resting on his pillow and his eyes were shut.
‘Hello?’ I said, hoping they’d all pay attention to me. The airmen all quietened down and looked up at me obediently and I sent silent thanks to their commanding officers who’d clearly trained them well. Harry opened his eyes and looked at me and I felt the weight of his gaze like a warm shawl around my shoulders.
‘Hello,’ I said again. ‘It’s me again, Nurse Watson. Do you remember my friend Nurse Malone and I were here the other day, writing letters for some of you?’
‘As if we’d forget you,’ one of the men called from the end of the room. ‘I never forget a pretty face.’
‘That’s enough, Eric,’ said Judith from the desk.
I grinned. I liked these men, even if they were a bit cheeky.
‘When I was here before, some of you shared some memories and stuff with me.’ I caught Harry’s eye and gave him a little smile. ‘And some of you said you’d like to write messages for your loved ones, in case … well, in case you don’t make it back.’
The quiet in the ward grew more intense for a moment as the men all considered my words.
‘Apparently during the last war, some nurses kept books of memories for their patients,’ I went on. ‘And I thought it was a lovely idea. So I’m going to do the same.’
‘A book of last letters,’ said Eric.
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘But not only last letters. Anything at all. I’m going to leave this notebook here with you and you can just write whatever you feel like. Anything at all.’
‘What did you say your name was?’ one airman shouted.
‘Nurse Watson.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Dear Nurse Watson,’ he began, and the other men all groaned and laughed. I smiled too, enjoying their good spirits.
‘Like I said, just write or draw whatever you want. You can write about your experiences at Biggin Hill, or what it feels like to fly.’ I saw Harry give a little nod and I was glad. ‘Write letters home if you want, or notes to your sweethearts, or draw a picture or two. Messages, poems, Bible verses, tributes to friends you’ve lost …’ I looked round at them all. ‘Writing is a good way to get your thoughts in order.’
‘Anything at all?’ said a boy who was studying the newspaper though he barely looked old enough to know how to read.
‘Anything at all.’ I smiled at them all.
‘And if we write messages, you’ll pass them on, will you?’ said another airman, his brows drawing together.
‘Of course – if you want me to. Or if you don’t want to, that’s fine too. You don’t even have to put your name to what you write if you don’t want to. It’s up to you.’
There was a ripple of conversation and I put my hand up to quieten them.
‘I’ve got to go now. Can I trust you to look after the book?’
The men all murmured their agreement. ‘Good. And please help each other to write if there’s anyone who’s unable to hold the pencil.’ I glanced at Harry again and he grinned at me and I felt a little flicker of something, deep down inside me. ‘I’ll come and collect it in the morning.’
‘Thanks, Nurse,’ said Eric. ‘This is a really good thing you’re doing.’
My eyes felt hot with tears suddenly, and I blinked them away. ‘Who’s first?’ I said.
The newspaper-reading lad raised his hand politely and I went to him and gave him the notebook and pencils.
He opened the pad to a clean page and tapped it with his fingertips. ‘Now I just have to decide what to write,’ he said, picking up a pencil.
‘Good luck,’ I said. ‘Pass it round and I’ll come back and get it tomorrow.’
I left them all chatting, pleased that the notebook had received such a positive response. As I walked along the ward, I noticed that the bed I’d helped one of the more injured airmen into – the lad with the shredded face – was empty.
‘What happened to the chap in bed 2?’ I asked Judith as I made my way to the door of the ward.
She screwed her nose up. ‘Vinny? He didn’t make it.’
I put my hand over my mouth, shocked even though I saw death every day.
‘Poor lad. Sepsis it was. Takes them quick.’
I shuddered. ‘Such a shame.’
Judith nodded. ‘Thanks for bringing the notebook for them. I’ll make sure they don’t write anything too bawdy.’
I glanced over my shoulder over to where the men were laughing uproariously about something. ‘Good luck with that,’ I said.
*
It was another busy night shift, but throughout the chaos I found my thoughts drifting to the men in the huts and wondering if they were busy writing in the book. So when I eventually handed over to the nurses on the day shift, I raced round to the huts.
Judith wasn’t there, but there were other Red Cross nurses working, who were just as friendly. And when I walked in, the airmen all began calling to me, a cacophony of voices that made my head spin.
‘Nurse, I wrote a note for you!’
‘I’ve drawn some pictures, Nurse!’
‘I don’t know where my family are, Nurse. Can you find them?’
I looked around me, unsure where to start, and I couldn’t see where the book was. Harry clearly saw me looking lost and raised his voice.
‘Oi,’ he growled and the men all fell silent. ‘Nurse Watson here is doing a nice thing for us. Let’s be polite, shall we.’
I smiled at him and he smiled back and I felt something pass between us, almost like recognition. ‘I’ve got the book here,’ he said, picking it up from his bedside and holding it aloft. ‘The lads have almost filled it.’
I felt a rush of satisfaction and happiness. ‘Have they really?’ I looked round the makeshift ward. ‘Have you all written?’
‘Think everyone wrote something, or got someone to write for them,’ said the cheeky one called Eric. ‘Except for Mark. But he’s not so good with words.’
A man at the end of the ward, whom I assumed was Mark, grumbled and then let out a hearty laugh that delighted me. ‘True,’ he said, unabashed. ‘My letters always get jumbled up. But I drew a picture of Vinny.’
Vinny – the fellow they’d lost.
‘It felt good,’ Mark went on. ‘To have a chance to honour him.’
I nodded, moved by how well they’d taken to the idea.
‘We enjoyed it and we reckon you should take it all round the hospital,’ Harry said. He pronounced “take” like “tek”. I liked the way he spoke. ‘I’ve heard there are patients here from different parts of London. The docks and that?’
‘There are. They bring them down from the East End when the raids happen.’
‘And Nurse Cassidy said some of them don’t stay here?’
‘No, they often go to safer hospitals, down in Kent or Sussex.’
‘Maybe their families won’t know what’s happened then?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘You need to let them write in the book, too. Not just us airmen. Everyone.’
I smiled at him. ‘I will. That’s exactly what I’m planning to do. And now you’ve started things off, others will follow.’
‘Will you come back and tell us about it?’
‘Of course.’
‘Right, men. The dinner trolley’s on its way so how about you let Nurse Watson get home, please?’ said one of the nurses, who looked like a film star with huge blue eyes, but had a gruff, earthy voice that carried over the clamour of the men’s questions.
‘Bye then,’ I said to the men.
Harry winked at me and I felt my cheeks redden. ‘Bye, Nurse Watson,’ he said.
*
I had intended to take the book home and have a look inside, but I couldn’t wait. So I went to the staffroom, sat down and opened it up.
It was better than I’d ever dreamt possible. The airmen had completely understood what I wanted them to do, and the result was astonishing.
I read, open-mouthed, through messages to parents telling them they loved them, to wives asking them to look after children, and to sweethearts saying they were to be brave without them.
Mark’s picture of Vinny was wonderful. He’d captured a glint in his eye and a proud tilt to his chin that made my eyes burn with tears.
And on the next page, he’d drawn me – in a very flattering way and with just a few strokes of his pencil. He was a real talent, I thought. I would tell him so when I saw him next.
‘What you got there?’ Nelly appeared in the doorway. She looked tired but her eyes were bright. I’d not seen her since we decorated the flat with the holly earlier on, so I’d not told her what I had planned.
‘I’ve got a book for patients to write messages in,’ I said, holding it up so I could see. ‘Mrs Gold got it for me.’
‘Oh, you clever thing.’ She came over. ‘It’s such a good idea.’
‘Apparently lots of nurses did it in the last war, for the soldiers they looked after.’
‘But you’re going to give it to all the patients?’
‘We’re going to give it to all the patients,’ I said, emphasising the “we”.
‘Ah.’
‘What does “ah” mean?’ I looked at her in alarm. ‘You’re not going anywhere, are you? Are you going back to Dublin?’
‘Don’t be daft.’ She sighed. ‘Remember I said I’d like to have a go at working in the operating theatre?’
I widened my eyes. Nelly had wanted to assist in the theatre for months. ‘You’ve got a chance?’
‘I have. I’m going to be a theatre nurse.’
I hugged her. ‘That’s wonderful, Nell. Well done.’
‘We’ll be on different shift patterns now, though.’
I shrugged. ‘We’ll still see each other.’ Then I grinned. ‘We can leave each other messages.’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Look at this picture of me,’ I said, showing her Mark’s drawing.
‘Now that’s gorgeous.’
‘It’s very flattering.’ I sighed. ‘These boys are all so talented.’ I turned the page and chuckled as I saw a limerick printed there. It wasn’t signed.
‘Nell, listen to this,’ I said. ‘There was a young airman named Ted, who struggled to get out of bed … Oh heavens, I’m not reading the rest of that. It’s too rude.’
We both laughed.
‘Are you coming home now?’ I said to Nelly.
She shook her head. ‘Not quite yet. I have to go to the offices and sort out my transfer, and then I’ve got to go and meet my new matron. What about you?’
‘I’m going to take the book to my ward and see if anyone wants to write in it.’
‘Good idea,’ said Nelly.
She leaned over and picked up a pencil. Then she wrote “see you later” in her messy writing at the bottom of one the pages. I rolled my eyes and she blew me a kiss as she hurried away.
With the book in my arms and a stack of pencils in my pocket, I headed towards my ward, where another nurse stopped me in the corridor, just by the entrance to the ward 2. It was where the really badly injured patients were cared for.
‘Is that it?’ she asked, nodding towards the book. ‘I heard you were collecting memories in a book.’
‘Oh is that the memory book?’ called another nurse who was walking into the ward. ‘Come and show us.’
Pleased that people were talking about the book, I followed her to the nurses’ station at the entrance to the ward. It was quiet in there, and very still. All the patients were extremely poorly and no one really stayed on ward 2 for long.
‘So, you get patients to write their memories in your notebook?’ the first nurse asked me.
‘No, it’s not memories, it’s messages,’ said another nurse, who was making a bed with fresh sheets and who I recognised from when we’d trained together. Her name was Barbara, I thought. ‘Messages between soldiers and their sweethearts. Ain’t that right, Elsie?’
‘I heard you were finding missing families,’ said Matron, who was sitting at the desk. ‘I heard there was a woman on your ward who didn’t know where her children were and you found them.’
I looked from one to the other and held the book out in front of me. ‘It’s a bit of everything,’ I said. ‘That’s what I said to the airmen – you know the chaps in the huts? I gave it to them and said they could write whatever they wanted.’
‘And what did they write?’ Barbara asked. She was from up north somewhere, Manchester I thought. Her accent was a little bit like Harry’s. She took the book from my hands. ‘Eh, it’s heavier than I thought.’
‘They wrote all sorts. Some wrote messages, like you said. But others drew pictures, or wrote poems. It’s wonderful.’
We all went quiet for a second as we looked round at the patients on the ward where we stood, who were all too poorly to be writing anything at all.
‘Can I take it to my ward?’ Barbara said. ‘I’m just helping out here, but I’m normally on ward 5. My men would want to contribute, I’m sure. Some of them were in the trenches, last time. I reckon they’ve got lots to say this time round.’
Ward 5 was where the elderly patients were cared for. I shuddered to think how Barbara’s patients were coping with living through a war for the second time.
‘That would be perfect,’ I said. ‘Thank you, Barbara.’
‘I’m starting my shift in a minute. Can I take it now?’
‘Why not. I was going to take it to my ward, but it doesn’t matter what order it’s in. And I’m off now until this evening.’ I handed the book over. It felt a bit of a wrench to leave it in her hands, but I gave her the pencils from my pocket, too. ‘Tell them to write anything at all. They’ll get the idea if they look at what’s been written already.’
‘I read a book about how your brain adjusts to awful events,’ said the matron, who was resting her chin in her hand and looking thoughtful. ‘A few books actually. I’m rather interested in how our minds work. This is an effective way of helping our patients work through their injuries, I think.’
‘I think so too,’ I told her. ‘Writing things down really does help.’
‘I’ll head up there now,’ Barbara said. ‘Shall I pass it on when my men are done?’
‘Absolutely.’ I nodded. ‘I’ll find it when I come back tomorrow sometime.’
‘Grand.’ She hurried off towards the stairs and, feeling a sense of achievement, despite the dragging tiredness I always felt after a long night shift, I wandered down the corridor and out of the main entrance.
‘Night, Elsie,’ one of the porters called as I went. He was pushing a trolley.
‘Are you still here, Frank? That’s a long shift for you.’ Frank normally worked the same hours as I did.
‘I’m doing a double because we’re short-staffed, love. Half of the crew have joined up. Fancy a stint with us?’
‘Think I’ll stick to nursing, thanks,’ I said, chuckling as I walked.
‘Hello.’ Jackson appeared without warning, looming up at me through the gloomy winter morning.
I let out a little gasp. ‘Oh Lord, Jackson, you startled me,’ I said.
To his credit, he looked horrified. ‘I’m so sorry, Elsie,’ he said. ‘I really didn’t mean to frighten you.’
Still happy about the book making its way round the hospital, I pulled my shoulders back and forced myself to give him a smile. ‘It’s fine. What are you doing here?’ I looked him up and down. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘Came to walk you home,’ he said, puffing his chest out. ‘I knew you’d been on the night shift. Though you’re later than I thought you’d be. I’ve been waiting ages. I didn’t want you going home by yourself.’ His expression darkened. ‘Or getting a lift off someone. That wouldn’t be right.’
‘My neighbour Mr Gold brought me to work in his motorcar,’ I said firmly, wondering why I felt the need to explain myself to Jackson. ‘It was very kind of him.’
‘He’s not here now?’ Jackson looked around.
‘Well, no.’
‘So, I’ll walk you home.’
‘I was going to get the train.’
‘Then I’ll come too.’ He offered me his arm. ‘Billy would be pleased.’
I did not want to take his arm, nor did I want to walk home with him, but I remembered the angry look on his face when Mr Gold had driven past him and I was strangely nervous about how he’d react if I said no. So I looped my hand through his arm, and we walked to the station. Jackson talked all the way, and when the train arrived, and when we got off again, telling me how he was planning to join the ARP wardens so he would be doing his bit, or perhaps he would try to join up again. Maybe they’d let him enlist this time, despite his flat feet. I let his words wash over me. I’d heard it all before and I didn’t really care whether he joined up or not. Though, if he did, at least he wouldn’t bother me anymore.
‘I think that’s a marvellous idea,’ I said.
He looked at me with shining eyes.
‘Do you really?’
‘Absolutely.’
We’d reached the end of my road. I turned to him. ‘Thank you so much for walking me home,’ I lied. ‘Good luck with it all. Must dash.’
I spun on my heels and raced off along the road towards home, pleased with how well I’d handled him this time.