‘That’s what we’re here for,’ Jane replied.
‘You fetch the bedpan, Kate, and I’ll get some clean dressings. Now you stay put, young man, and no more trying to get out of bed, do you understand?’
The soldier nodded and lay back exhausted.
Kate knew as she fetched her second bedpan of the morning that there was no room for squeamishness or embarrassment in this job. She knew that these men had suffered much and now they had to put up with the restrictions of being confined to bed and the loss of personal dignity. They had to get used to it and so would she.
Chapter Twenty-Four
October 1915
Kate had to put her own emotions to one side and get on with doing what was expected of her. Weeks went by. Her daily tasks went on and the routines took over. She hardly had time to think. She eventually paid her visit to Archie’s mother and listened to her read through all the letters he’d sent. While Mrs Mabbs commented on the dreadful food he was getting and worried about him getting a bad chest, in her mind’s eye, Kate constantly saw those men beneath the blankets on the ward and the true extent of their pain. As Mrs Mabbs talked about Archie and what a good son he was, Kate tried to make sense of what his words really meant and how much they were a true picture of what he was going through.
She felt uncomfortable listening to this mother who was worried that her son might have a bad cough when he could be lying badly injured in a field somewhere, his blood soaking into the earth. How little they all knew. When she felt she’d spent enough time to be polite, she thanked Archie’s mother for her tea and tried to let her down gently by explaining that she didn’t know when she would be able to come again. Mrs Mabbs said that was quite all right. ‘I understand,’ she said, ‘you’re a very busy person. You’re a good girl, Kate. I always knew that Archie would choose a good one.’
She didn’t feel like a good person. She had only made things more difficult for everyone by coming here in the first place. Continuing to write to Archie was giving him cause to hope when she was still thinking about Philip. But how could she let him go back to fight with the emptiness of rejection? She couldn’t do it. Perhaps that was cowardly of her but there was no knowing whatthe future would bring. There was enough loss and pain in this war without her adding to it.
When she reported for duty at the hospital the following Sunday, she was pleased to be occupied with young men whose problems were far greater than hers.
‘Kate, could you spare a few moments to talk to the soldier in bed number thirteen, please?’ the sister asked her. ‘He’s just been admitted, transferred from Netley in Southampton and he’s in a bad way. I think he could do with someone holding his hand.’
As she approached the soldier’s bedside, she could see that he had a bandage around his head and an eye pad. There must have been injuries to his legs too because there was a cage lifting the bedclothes away from them. She didn’t want to wake him and began to turn away. But something must have told him she was there because as she turned to go, he opened his eyes.
She leaned over to gently touch his forehead. He looked at her for a long time, frowns of pain and confusion distorting his face. After a while she removed her hand and he reached out to take it back.
‘Where am I?’ he asked.
‘You’re in Bethnal Green Hospital,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, you’re safe now.’
She turned to get herself a chair so that she could sit with him.
‘No, no, don’t go,’ he called.
‘I’m not going anywhere, just to get a chair,’ she reassured him.
She brought the chair to his bedside. She didn’t know the full extent of his injuries and in all probability neither did he. If she had learned anything from her time at the hospital, it had been that patience and kindness were as important to the men recovering as the stitches in their wounds and the drugs to killtheir pain. She smiled at him and sat with him while he drifted in and out of sleep.
She lost count of time and it wasn’t until one of the nurses said that it was getting dark and shouldn’t she be going that she realized she must leave him. As she stood up, two orderlies walked past her carrying a stretcher. The body, covered with a white sheet, was a reminder of the frailty of every human life. Beneath the loose covering, she could see the shape of a head, chest, knees and feet. Someone’s brother, lover, husband, father. That soldier had made it back to England but his family still did not get to see him one last time. It made no difference whether the death was in France or in England, the loss for the families was just the same.
Chapter Twenty-Five
January 1916
Over the weeks that followed Kate spent as much time as she could with the soldier who she met on that first day. She discovered that his name was Charles and he was an officer in the Duke of Devonshire’s regiment. Being close to him made her feel closer to Philip and to Fred and Archie. She still thought about Archie and hoped one day they would meet again. She could never love him like she loved Philip, she knew that now, but she still cared what happened to him, just like she cared for her brother.
The soldier’s condition gradually began to improve. Slowly, the wound in his chest healed and he started taking a few steps with the aid of a stick. The operation he’d had on his damaged foot had been successful and the doctors had managed to save it, although he would walk with a limp now and Kate could see it still pained him.
On cold, bright days, Kate wrapped him up warmly in a greatcoat, with a blanket over his knees, and wheeled him out in the garden. The trips outside had lightened his mood and they began to really enjoy one another’s company.
‘Ah, here’s my private chauffeur,’ he said, as she wheeled the chair towards his bed one afternoon. He greeted her with a warm smile as she manoeuvred him into the lift and, when she knocked the wheel on the door, he jokingly said she needed more driving lessons.
‘What a cheek,’ Kate replied. ‘Nothing wrong with my driving. I’ll have you know. Perhaps I was distracted.’
‘Busy looking out for those handsome young doctors, were you?’ he teased.
‘I’ve got enough to contend with at the moment, without that, thank you,’ she said.
‘Seriously though, Kate. Is there anyone special you think about . . . you know . . . over there?’ he asked. ‘I bet there is.’ He smiled.
