‘Climbing a mountain.’ Bobby gestured to her companion. ‘You know Charlie’s sister-in-law Mary, of course. She’s come to help too.’
‘Of course.’ Topsy looked rather dazed as she ushered them inside. ‘You’re not telling me you climbed to the top of that big mountain in the dark?’
‘That’s exactly what I am telling you.’
‘But darling, whatever for?’
‘Because there were men up there who might have needed my help,’ Bobby said, a little impatient with her friend’s customary exuberance after the night’s ordeal. She looked around the panelled hallway, trying to remember which door led to which room and wondering where the beds for the patients might be.
‘Yes, but I mean, surely there were men from the village who could do that,’ Topsy said.
‘I was the warden on duty when the plane came down. It was my responsibility to lead the rescue party.’
‘Where are we taking the patients, Topsy?’ Mary asked.
Topsy pointed to a door that Bobby vaguely recalled led to the main hall, which had been used as a dormitory during the hall’s short tenure as a school for evacuees. ‘That’s to be the ward, where the beds are. Maimie’s in there making them nice for the men. We’ve made up six.’
‘We’ll only need two,’ Bobby said, pushing past her to examine the arrangements.
‘What about the others?’ Topsy asked, following her.
‘Dead. Four killed and two survivors, with one critical.’ Her voice almost sounded like someone else’s as she spoke. She never would have believed she had the ability to talk of death in that cold, clinical manner. ‘That one, the pilot, might not make it through the night. The other we can save, I hope.’
She opened the door to the main hall. There were two rows of narrow metal beds facing opposite each other in pairs, creating an aisle down the middle. Three pairs had been made up with sheets and blankets, ready for patients. Maimie Hobbes, Topsy’s former nanny, was fluffing up the pillows on one of them when Bobby approached her.
‘We’ll only need two of the beds, Mrs Hobbes,’ she said.
She shook her head sadly. ‘I was worried you might tell me that.’
‘I know. But let’s focus on the lives we can save.’
‘When will they arrive, these two men?’
‘Not for at least an hour.’ Bobby was racking her brains trying to remember a newsreel feature she’d once seen about military hospitals. ‘Mary, you said you were a VAD in the last war. Where did you nurse?’
‘In a hospital out on the coast, until I discovered I was pregnant with Nancy,’ Mary said.
‘And when men have broken limbs, do they have them strapped up? I’m sure I remember some newsreel footage where they had metal frames around the bed so they could suspend the plaster casts from a chain.’
‘Yes, that’s right. Keeping them elevated helps with pain and swelling.’
‘Well, these men both have broken limbs. Topsy, are there any of those sorts of frames here?’
Topsy frowned. ‘I did see some metal poles and things in the library, and chains too. I suppose that must be what they were for, but they weren’t put together.’
‘Then we’ll have to figure out how to put them together. Mrs Hobbes, Mary, can you bring them here, please?’
They nodded and left to fetch them.
‘What about me? What job can I do?’ Topsy asked brightly. ‘You know, you really ought to be a matron or something, Birdy. You’re so deliciously bossy.’
‘What about sterile surgical clothing? Is there any here?’ Bobby asked. ‘White coats, caps, masks – that sort of thing?’
‘There’s a box of whites over there.’ She pointed to a large chest pushed against the wall.
‘Then I suggest we all put coats on, if we’re going to be needed as nurses tonight – or, I should say, this morning.’
‘Must we? They’re for men: terribly shapeless and ugly. I tried one on, just for fun, and I looked an absolute fright.’
