‘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 herto 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.
