The journey across the border to Belgium wasn’t easy. The open truck they were in increased Ella’s discomfort with every yard it travelled. Roads that were originally tracks for farmers’ traffic had taken a heavy toll with the vehicles of war and were now rutted and full of potholes.
Moving herself a little, Ella tried to ease the discomfort between her legs and the pain in her back. They were constant reminders of the horror she’d suffered; injuries that those who had tended her had thought were caused by the sea. Somehow, she knew, she must learn to live with her pain and the heavy feeling dragging her heart down. She was traumatized from her mind to her feet, but there was nothing to be done. It had happened and she couldn’t undo it.
As a distraction, she looked out at what used to be green fields, but were now a churned-up monument to the bloody battles fought there. Trenches were still visible, and so too were many bodies, and body parts – limbs sticking hideously out of the mud; still hands, looking as though they reached for help; a leg, still in its boot, standing almost proudly on its own. Every so often a group of soldiers could be seen, carrying out the unenviable task of digging long lines of graves. How long would it take to get all the dead and body parts buried? And who would know who they were? Families would only know their men were killed in action, but not where or how, or where their remains lay. The pity of this brought tears to Ella’s eyes. It seemed such a long time now that the world had been in turmoil. Some of her tears were for those who had come in and out of her life, some of whom she would never see again.
How she longed to be with Flors and Mags, who would hug her and make right again the small part of the world where she was. Was it the memories of what they’d been through that stopped them keeping in touch? Maybe, after a time, they would heal and reunite. Because what the three of them had shared could never be forgotten. The war had thrown them together and given them so much to contend with. At that moment Ella renewed her determination to get in touch one day with Flors and Mags.
Mags would be easy to find, for she lived with her family in Blackburn. Helping to run her father’s mill, she was ready to take over one day, and it was all she wanted to do. Maybe Flors still lived in Stepney? It would be so good to see them both.
Trying not to long for home, Ella wiped a tear that had trickled down her cheek as her dear nanny came into her mind. How she missed her. A yearning to be held by Nanny and comforted overwhelmed her. How guilty she felt at leaving Nanny when she most needed her. She was in her late sixties now, and her infrequent letters broke Ella’s heart, as Nanny wrote that she was ‘just hanging on’ to see Ella come home safely from the war.
Nanny had booked herself into a nursing home two months before the war was declared, because her chronic arthritis had rendered her unable to walk. Her hands were so gnarled that she could no longer care for herself, and she had refused to allow Ella to care for her: ‘You have a life to lead, my dear Ella. And now that you are well again, you must follow your dream and continue with your nurse’s training. It is your vocation.’
As war was imminent at the time and preparations were being made throughout the United Kingdom, Ella hadn’t had enough time to complete her training to become a qualified nurse, which a mystery illness had interrupted. And so she had joined the Red Cross and become a volunteer nurse. Doing so had put purpose back into her life.
Her thoughts were interrupted as her travelling companion, senior theatre nurse Connie Knight, stirred. Even though they were squashed between boxes of supplies that dug into them as the truck rocked and jerked them about, Connie had managed to sleep most of the way. It was something nurses did whenever they got the chance, as Ella herself would have done, had she not felt so troubled.
A nice girl, but a bit of a closed book, Connie came across as being stand-offish at times, although Ella enjoyed working with her. She was a no-nonsense, get-the-job-done type, and that meant everything ran smoothly and efficiently in the operating theatre when Connie was in charge.
Stretching her limbs, Connie asked, ‘How long have we been travelling? I hope I didn’t snore. Sorry – I feel exhausted.’
‘Only a little bit, a sort of snuffle really.’
‘Oh?’
‘Nothing, honestly. I – I wouldn’t have said—’
To Ella’s surprise, Connie burst out laughing. ‘You goose. Are you all right, you look very peaky? I heard what happened this morning, and it must have been a great shock. I couldn’t believe that Matron still sent you. Anything can develop from that experience – they say you nearly drowned.’
For a moment it had seemed as if Connie was referring to what Jim had done to her. ‘I – I’m fine. Thank you. Just very tired, and yes, still suffering from the shock of it.’
‘Thank goodness you were washed up onto the beach and that fisherman found you. Poor Jim, though. I wonder if they have found him. You must be out of your mind with worry for him.’
‘Yes. I – I . . .’ The words stuck in her throat. How could she say what was expected of her, when she wanted to scream out what he’d really done to her, and that she hoped he was never found? As if to give the lie to this, her eyes filled with tears again and her lips quivered.
This brought out a side of Connie that Ella had never experienced herself, though she’d witnessed it when Connie was dealing with patients. ‘It’s all right to show your emotions, old thing. Get it all out of your system, I say. You have been through a terrible ordeal. Look, I’m sorry to say it, but, Ella, I do think you have to prepare yourself. Here, I have a hanky.’ Shaking her head, Connie added, ‘It’s horrific – just horrific.’
Unable to speak, Ella took the hanky. Yes, it was horrific. So horrific. With this thought, her tears flowed and sobs racked her. Somehow Connie managed to stand and come over to her. She didn’t speak, but as best she could, with the motion of the truck swaying her, she placed one of her hands on Ella’s shoulder and gently soothed her until she calmed.
‘That’s a good reaction, Ella. Now you will begin to come to terms with it. Hang on to the fact that you’re safe. You could have died, but you didn’t. You still have much to do, and the sooner you can come to a frame of mind where you can look on the positives, the better you will feel.’
Ella blew her nose. Although Connie knew only half the story, she was right. It was about coming to terms with it. But where she would find a positive to hang on to, she didn’t know. ‘Thank you, Connie. I do feel better now.’ And, strangely, she did.
The truck halted, surprising them both. ‘What a relief. Though why we’re stopping, I don’t know.’ Connie looked at her watch. ‘We’re only two hours into our journey. But, hey-ho, let’s stretch our legs. And don’t worry – you look fine. If that had been me blubbing, I would look terrible, all puffed eyes and runny nose.’
Ella smiled for the first time. She’d never made any connection with Connie. She was one of those who accepted you when she was ready, but now Ella felt they could be friends. ‘Maybe there is a positive to come out of what happened to me, as you and I have become closer.’
Connie looked embarrassed. ‘I – I’m glad that has happened. I’d like to be friends. Sorry if I have come across as a bit offhand. I don’t mean to. I don’t find mixing easy. A childhood in the colonies didn’t help – private tutor and interacting only with servants. Made me a bit gawky around others of my own age. Anyway, let’s get off this damn truck, eh?’
Ella felt sad for Connie. There was everyone thinking she was a bit snobbish and hard to approach, when all the time she must have been very lonely. Impulsively she took Connie’s hand and smiled at her. ‘You’ve helped me more than you know, Connie. Thank you. Come on, let’s jump down together and not wait for the steps to be unfolded.’
Jumping off the truck sounded a good idea, but poor Connie, being taller than average, had to fold her body far more than Ella did.
Ella caught the expression of determination on Connie’s rounded face as she prepared to leap. And as she took off, her straight hair, cut into a bob, flew into the air, but it was the action of her bosom that astonished Ella. Connie was a buxom girl, and her chest bounced as if it would never stop.
Ella leapt off the truck a second after Connie, but somehow they landed together, giggling like schoolgirls, only to look up and see Dr Mathews come round the corner of the truck. Ella had a moment of feeling foolish, and knew by the way she blushed that Connie did, too.
‘Well, I thought I’d have to rescue you both. Are you all right?’
This seemed to be directed at Connie, as did the doctor’s concerned look. Connie promptly retorted, ‘Yes, but no thanks to your own and Dr Frazer’s chivalry, which was very lacking.’ A smile lit her face, taking the sting out of what she said.
‘Sorry. We pulled rank and took the front seats for a reason. We may have to operate when we arrive, even if it will be gone midnight.’
‘I forgive you.’ This interaction between them suggested that Connie and Alan Mathews were rather more than friends. Ella was glad for them, though sad, too, because it was frowned upon for the medical staff to form attachments, and it had been known that one of an ‘offending’ pair found themselves posted elsewhere. To try to conduct a relationship under those constraints must be very difficult.
Having travelled for a further hour after their break, during which they drank hot tea made by their driver on a small paraffin stove, they transferred to a supply train. It was a lot more comfortable, and Ella was at last able to get off to sleep.
The deafening sound of explosions and gunfire woke her and she knew they must be nearing their destination. It surprised her how her stomach clenched in fear. She thought she was hardened to the sound of war, but their current situation heightened her awareness of it, as they had been warned that trains that carried food and other goods to the front line were a target for the enemy.
The train coming to a halt further alarmed Ella. Peering through the dim light, she saw that Connie was sitting up. ‘Why have we stopped?’
‘I don’t know, but I don’t like it; it could mean—’
A deafening explosion shook the carriage. Connie scrambled over a bale of clothing and was by Ella’s side in seconds.
‘Oh, Ella, I hate all of this.’
The trembling of Connie’s body matched Ella’s own. She went to give comfort, but then remembered something Flors had always said: If someone is afraid, then showing your own fear often helps them more than trying to be the big, brave one.
‘Oh God, Connie. We’re going to die!’
‘We’ll be fine. I – I didn’t mean to startle you more than the damn war breaking out around us did. Keep hold of my hand.’
It had worked: Connie was back to being in charge.
After a few minutes the train chugged on again.
‘Must have been a random attack nearby, which spooked the driver for a while. Phew! Thank goodness for that. For one moment there I thought we might be taken prisoner or, worse, blown up!’
Relief entered Ella, too. That was the nearest she’d ever been to the fighting, and it had scared her witless. It was the feeling of not knowing if this was the time a bullet had your name on it.
When they reached the hospital they had to trudge through ankle-deep mud leading to the receiving tent. There a horrific sight met them. Three nurses and a matron, along with one doctor, were coping with dozens of wounded, some of whom lay on a long tarpaulin spread out on the wooden floor of the tent and had not yet been attended to. The more seriously injured were on stretcher-type beds and were receiving attention.
Ella stared around her, taking in the sight of the blood that ran like a river and lay in pools on the floor. And how the walls of the tent, and the beleaguered staff, were splattered with it. Her nostrils were assailed with the smell of rotting flesh and vomit, and the wails and moans tugged at her heart.
Dr Mathews gave the impression that nothing was too much to cope with, as he spoke for them.
‘Hello, Matron. We are Red Cross members, here to help. Tell us where our billets are and we’ll get changed. I’m Dr Alan Mathews, a surgeon, as is Dr Daniel Frazer; and these are our nursing staff: theatre nurse Cornelia Knight and theatre assistant Marjella Wronski – we call them Connie and Ella.’
‘We can introduce ourselves later. Nurse Riley, go with them and show them their billets. Hut B for the nurses, and G for the surgeons. But all of you, please change quickly and hurry back here.’
Dr Mathews looked taken aback at her abrupt tone. A handsome man with dark eyes and dark hair greying at the temples – the only signs of his age, which Ella would put in his early fifties – he was used to commanding attention, not being dismissed.
Once out of the hearing of the matron, Nurse Riley spoke in a conspiratorial tone. ‘For sure it is that you’re very welcome. Don’t you be minding Matron, she’s a good old stick. It is with the pressure she is under that she was for coming over a bit snappy-sounding. For haven’t we been asking for help this good while? We’re at our wits’ end, so we are. I’m Bernadette Riley, known as Paddy.’
Ella felt an immediate affinity with Paddy, and the feeling warmed her. It would be good to make a new friend who knew nothing about what happened at Dieppe.
After leaving the doctors at their hut, Paddy took Ella and Connie to their quarters. She smiled as she told them, ‘I’m for having my bed in here too, so I am. Mine is the third one along. You are to be taking the fourth and fifth, and you’ll find all you’ll be needing on your beds. The bathroom is at the bottom end, behind that curtain. It’s after being a bit primitive, but I expect you’ll be used to that.’
The smile Paddy gave them lit up her face, and made her eyes appear even more blue and sparkly than the first impression Ella had had of them. Irish eyes, she thought to herself, remembering that she had heard the expression before. And she’d also heard that a lot of Irish colleens – as she believed single girls were called in Ireland – were known to have red hair. Well, Paddy kept to that tradition too, because although her hair was mainly covered by her nurse’s veil, lots of ringlets escaped and shone a golden-red in the sunlight. The freckles on her face enhanced her prettiness, although the word ‘cute’ seemed to suit her more, because her teeth, though even and white, protruded a little, giving her a ‘little girl’ look.
‘Right-o, we’ll be as quick as we can.’ With this from Connie, Paddy left them. Connie soon bagged her place. ‘I’ll take the fifth bunk, if that’s all right with you, Ella? I can’t bear the closed-in feeling of having a bed on each side of me.’
‘That’s fine. I’ll be happy just to have somewhere to lay my head. I feel exhausted, but will be all right once we swill our faces. And donning my uniform always gets me in the mood for work.’
Ready, all but for her nurse’s veil, Ella waited for Connie to finish with the mirror. When her turn came, she wasn’t surprised to see the tired lines around her eyes. For a moment she studied her reflection. She’d never thought of herself as pretty. Yes, her hazel eyes were large and matched her brown hair, but her features were very precise, as her nanny’s had been. Straight nose and defined lips – she wondered if it was her Polish heritage. Sometimes her features gave her a stern look. But they also came to her aid when she needed to assert herself, as being just under average height, she wasn’t always taken seriously. This was why she chose to wear her long hair brushed off her face and coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Many a time, surprise was expressed when she let it fall loosely onto her shoulders, thick and awash with many shades of brown – chestnut and a light gold. She’d been told that her hair was beautiful and that wearing it down suited her. But then there weren’t many occasions that called for her to do so.
Jim had uncoiled it and ruffled it with his fingers . . .
This memory made Ella’s body tremble. Grabbing her hairbrush, she pulled it through her hair and tied it back so tightly it hurt. But this was a better pain than the one that visited her at the thought of Jim’s hands touching her.
Within minutes of entering the receiving ward, Ella forgot everything except what she was assigned to do by Matron. ‘Nurse Wronski, was it?’
‘Yes, Matron.’
‘Right, I want you to assess all those patients lying on the tarpaulin. Label them with these tags, Nurse. Tie the tags to their feet where they can readily be seen. Red for those needing urgent treatment; orange for “as soon as possible”; and green for minors.’
‘Yes, Matron.’
Looking along the line of twenty or so men still to be seen, Ella went first to the ones showing signs of great distress. She prayed this didn’t mean she’d miss someone who was too weak to cry out.
With eight red labels attached, she came to a man lying on his side. Although he wasn’t making a sound, something about him worried her. Touching his shoulder, she spoke gently to him. ‘Are you in pain, sir?’
‘Yes, I – I have pain in my . . . chest. It is hard to breathe.’ His French accent caressed her, even though his words were hesitant.
Trying to turn him onto his back had him crying out.
‘I’m so sorry. I need to assess you.’
‘You’re not English?’
‘No, I’m Polish. I’m a nurse. Tell me what happened – have you any open wounds?’
‘I do not think so. I was caught in the blast of an explosion and thrown into a trench. The drop was about three metres.’
Unused to this French term of measurement, Ella had to presume it was quite a way and act accordingly. It occurred to her that his back might be badly damaged. ‘I’m going to put a red tag on your foot. This will ensure you’re seen soonest.’ Her worry increased as the soldier’s breathing became more laboured while she carried out this task. ‘Try to remain still; help will be with you very soon, I promise.’ On a whim she told him, ‘I’m Nurse Ella.’
‘I’m Paulo Rennaise, an . . . officer in the French army. P – please face me, so that I can see you.’
Something compelled Ella to move closer, despite the other men waiting for her attention. ‘Sorry. I stood behind you, hoping I could roll you onto your back.’ Looking into his dark eyes caused Ella’s heart to jolt. Without thinking, her hand reached out and stroked his curly black hair. ‘You will be all right, Paulo. Don’t worry.’
Somehow he managed a small smile. ‘I – I think I will always be all right, now I have met you.’
‘Ha! Haven’t lost your French charm then?’ Ella smiled. It was a manner she adopted with all the wounded, as she found that joking with them gave them the confidence to think they were going to make it. And she felt proud of herself for doing so now, as she’d thought she would never want to exchange a conversation with a man again, being afraid of giving out the wrong message.
But something about Paulo was different. It was as if he was a magnet to her, and she didn’t want to leave his side. But then she wondered if he might not want to know her, if he knew she was soiled goods.
Shaking herself out of this strange feeling, she spoke gently. ‘It is very important that you stay still, Paulo. Try not to move a limb. You’re going to be fine, but you may have broken something, and moving will make it worse. I’ll get someone to take a look at you.’ With this, she ran to Matron. ‘We have a lot of red cases – open, gaping wounds that may still hold bullets; and one who may lose his arm, but—’
‘Oh dear, how did we miss him? I knew there were some serious cases, but didn’t see an emergency of that nature. Where is he?’
‘He is not the worst case, Matron. There is a French officer who cannot move without pain and has difficulty breathing. It is very worrying. He was blasted back into a trench by the force of an explosion.’
‘Right. Run and fetch any of the surgeons who can come and see to the boy with the arm injury. Then get back to assessing the others – we mustn’t miss any that need us to act quickly. I’ll go to the officer with the back pain and check him myself, and arrange for the necessary treatment.’
After pointing out Paulo to Matron, Ella did as she was bid. But as she worked along the row of men in need of help, she couldn’t get Paulo out of her mind and uttered silent prayers for him.
Matron’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. ‘How are you getting on, Nurse? You are needed in theatre, as a few of the cases that you red-tagged require urgent operations. Get cleaned up as quickly as you can. And well done – good job.’
Despite her mind being elsewhere, Ella finished assessing all the men and went over to report to Matron. ‘There aren’t any further emergencies. Mostly surface wounds that need cleaning and dressing. H – how is the French officer with the breathing problem?’
‘We believe he has a slipped disc, but our immediate concern is his broken ribs, as one of them has punctured his lung, causing a collapse. Your Dr Frazer is a very special man. He re-inflated the lung, which lifted the immediate threat to the officer’s life, but he is in theatre now, as he needed further repair. Poor man, his lungs show signs of damage from gas inhalation. The French were affected by the worst of the gas attacks. Now, go and get cleaned up, then present yourself to number-three theatre as soon as you can. Oh, and Nurse, do distance yourself emotionally from the patients, as they can break your heart, and we need you in one piece.’
Ella blushed. ‘Yes, Matron.’ Then, without knowing it would happen, her voice broke into a sob.
‘Are you all right, Nurse? You look very peaky. You haven’t a temperature, have you?’
Ella knew the matron would be looking out for flu symptoms. Although it’s a terrible thing for me to think, at this moment I wish it was that. Exhaustion flooded through her. Had it only been this morning that the horror had happened to her?
‘I – I’m just very tired. But I will carry on. Everything is overwhelming at times. I know it shouldn’t be. I’m sorry, Matron.’
‘I know the feeling, and I have been where you are. One out of a thousand of these men can touch something in you that makes you vulnerable. It passes, and it usually happens when you are at breaking point. Deep breaths, my dear. If I could send you to your bed, I would. But think about those who are dying, and whose lives you can save by putting the ramrod into your spine and carrying on. That’s what I do.’
These words pulled Ella up. She smiled and thanked Matron, then walked in a determined manner in the direction of the accommodation hut. Yes, Paulo had been the one man who had touched something in her. How, or why, she didn’t know. But she did know that she could, and would, carry on. And she also knew that what Paddy had said was true. Matron was a good stick.
Once outside, Ella lifted her long grey dress and ran to her billet, grabbed a clean uniform and set the shower in motion. The water was cold, and although she let it run for a while, it only reached a luke-warm temperature.
The sound of the water splashing into the enamel bowl reminded her of when she was just sixteen and had thrown a coin into a wishing well and made a wish. She’d watched the water spread out in ever-increasing ripples at the intrusion of her coin, and had wished that she would one day find her real family and have someone to love. Now she thought of those ripples as the ripples of her life, with many people coming in and out of it; but always she tried to focus on those who cared for her. Thinking of those who abandoned her or hurt her wouldn’t make things better.
Would it ever happen that someone would come along and stay forever, and love her in a special way? Paulo’s dark eyes, though filled with pain, had shown something in their depths – something that had drawn her to him. Could it possibly be him? Please let it be so.
With this thought, something lifted within her, for as silly as it seemed to have such a feeling after only a few moments’ contact with Paulo, she knew he had taken precedence in her mind over the other occurrence today. No, she’d never think of that again – unless . . . But no, that wouldn’t happen! She would pray, night and day, that God didn’t allow it. I couldn’t cope with finding I’m pregnant . . . I couldn’t.