Liverpool Angels (15 page)

She sighed heavily; it would be another hour yet before she herself could sleep, and she still had the letters to Alice and Aunty Maggie to finish for she wanted to post them tomorrow.

At least it wasn’t raining, she thought thankfully as she left the train the following afternoon. The sky was grey and a blustery cold wind whipped at her skirts as she made her way along the Rue Faidherbe towards the Rue Nationale where the Café Arc-en-ciel was situated. For the first time in a fortnight she was not wearing her uniform and it felt somehow liberating to be dressed in her dark blue skirt, white blouse and warm black wool jacket, her hat firmly anchored by two long pins. She found the café without much trouble: the faded painted rainbow from which it took its name above the door helped. It was warm but rather dimly lit, she noted as she pushed open the door. Pip was sitting waiting for her but instantly got up to guide her to her seat.

‘I’m so glad to see you,’ he greeted her, courteously pulling the chair out and smiling.

‘I’m so glad to be here. I seem to have been on that train for months on end. It’s such a change to be away from it and to sit in a proper chair and at a table,’ she replied, smiling.

‘Shall I order? Will you have coffee and – if they have any – a pastry?’ he asked. She looked even more attractive out of uniform, he thought.

‘Please, that would be a real treat.’ She felt quite relieved that she wouldn’t have to do the ordering; so far she had only managed to pick up a few words of French from the soldiers and she wasn’t sure just how accurate their pronunciation was.

‘So, Miss Strickland, how are you finding nursing here?’ he asked after the waiter had gone to fetch the coffee.

Mae managed a wry smile. ‘I think I’m getting used to it although it certainly isn’t what I expected.’ She frowned and toyed with the edge of her serviette. ‘No one prepared us for the terrible state these men and boys come to us in. I mean . . . the dirt, the lice, the wounds already infected, the sheer and utter exhaustion.’

He nodded gravely. ‘I know. I feel great admiration and pity for them. The conditions in the trenches are appalling and if you’ll excuse me, Miss Strickland, the whole damned affair is a mess!’

She wasn’t in the least offended and concurred with him. ‘That’s very true and please, call me Mae.’

‘Only if you’ll call me Pip,’ he countered and they both smiled.

The coffee and pastries arrived.

‘So, Mae, you’re glad to escape for a few hours?’

She nodded as she sipped the rather strong coffee. ‘I’ve been looking forward to it and praying that my time off wouldn’t be cancelled at the last minute. It sometimes is – one of the other nurses told me.’

‘This must all be very strange for you. Have you been nursing long?’

‘No. My training was crammed into a few months and I worked as well, I was a typist. Have you been over here long?’

‘About a year now. I’d graduated from Harvard and wasn’t sure what I wanted to do so . . . I decided to volunteer. Being here has certainly broadened my outlook and experience and given me a very different perspective on life. The family weren’t too happy though; my mother in particular thinks I’m mad.’

Mae smiled. ‘My Aunty Maggie thinks I’m mad too. My mother died when I was a few days old; my aunt brought me up,’ she explained, cutting the pastry into small pieces.

‘What about your father, does he think you’re crazy too?’

Mae told him about her father’s death.

‘I’m so sorry, Mae. That was a cowardly attack on innocent people. Many Americans were outraged.’ He meant it and felt sincerely sorry for her but he admired her courage for volunteering.

‘Shall we talk about something else? Tell me more about your life in Boston, your family, what kinds of things you like to do.’

He proceeded to tell her of his life in the big Victorian brownstone house on Newbury Street in the prosperous Boston suburb of Back Bay with his parents and sister, and she told him of her cousins Alice and Eddie, the friends who were also here in France, her training and her life before she had joined hospital train number five.

All too soon she realised that it was time to get back and he offered to escort her.

‘Would you like to have coffee again, Mae, next time you’re off ?’ he asked, for he’d enjoyed her company.

‘Yes, I would, Pip,’ she agreed. She liked him. He was easy to talk to; he seemed far more mature than the boys she’d known at home. He was certainly more self-assured and . . . sophisticated than Harry, but then he’d travelled halfway across the world and had been more highly educated than them, and she realised that he came from a far more privileged background too.

‘Then shall we make it the same place, same time?’

She nodded and smiled. ‘In another two weeks, but I’ll probably see you before that.’

‘You’re bound to. Our work doesn’t stop, does it? Sadly there will be more sick and wounded men needing our meagre skills. But at least we get the occasional afternoon off,’ he finished on a more optimistic note and was pleased to see that she was looking happier.

M
aggie stared at the small buff-coloured envelope with dread. From the early days of the war telegrams had been used to convey the news of casualties and fatalities of serving soldiers or sailors to their relatives. So many had been delivered in the intervening months that they were now viewed as harbingers of tragedy.

‘Mam, what’s the matter? You’ve gone as white as a sheet,’ Alice asked as her mother came back into the kitchen. It was Saturday lunchtime so she’d finished work and was preparing to set off for her shift at Walton Hospital.

‘This!’ Maggie replied, holding out the telegram, her hands shaking a little.

Alice’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, Lord! It . . . it must be about our Eddie. Open it, Mam.’

Maggie felt her throat go dry as she ripped open the envelope and scanned the lines.

‘Oh, Mam, is he . . . is he . . . ?’ Alice pleaded.

Maggie shook her head as she passed the telegram over to her daughter. ‘No, thank God, but he’s in Highfield Hospital in Southampton . . .’

Alice breathed a sigh of relief and then began to read it aloud. ‘“Regret to inform you Private E. MacEvoy dangerously ill in this hospital. If you wish to visit him and are unable to bear expenses take this telegram to the nearest police station.”’

‘It’s still not good news, Alice. What do they mean “dangerously ill”? What’s the matter with him? How serious is he?’ Maggie said, biting her lip and sitting down heavily in the nearest chair.

‘It doesn’t say. Well, I think they might have told us a bit more. I’ll put the kettle on,’ Alice said firmly, thinking it wouldn’t have cost that much more for a couple of extra words. ‘At least he’s not dead or even wounded,’ she added.

Maggie nodded, still very worried. Eddie had never been ‘dangerously ill’ in his life. ‘I’ll have to go, Alice and as soon as I can.’

‘Of course you will, but you’re not going all that way on your own, Mam. I’m coming with you.’

‘But . . . but your work and your training at the hospital?’ Maggie queried.

‘I’ll tell Sister this afternoon and I’ll send a note into work. Surely none of them will object to me having a bit of compassionate time off. He’s my only brother and he’s lying ill in a hospital in Southampton, for heaven’s sake.’ She looked perplexed as she handed her mother the cup of tea. ‘Where exactly
is
Southampton?’

‘Somewhere on the south coast, I think,’ Maggie replied. She was feeling a bit calmer now.

‘Will I take the telegram to the police station, like they suggest?’ Alice enquired.

Maggie shook her head. ‘No, I can afford to pay the expenses and he’s my only son. There will be other poor souls who have more than one son and who can’t afford to be traipsing all over the country who will need that money. But you can call in and ask them if we can get a train down there.’

‘I just wish they’d brought him to a hospital a bit nearer,’ Alice thought aloud but then wondered why whatever was wrong with Eddie hadn’t been treated in a hospital in France. She also wondered if the long journey had made him worse and secretly hoped that his condition wouldn’t deteriorate before they got to Southampton.

She was informed by the desk sergeant, after he’d expressed his sympathy, that they could get a train from Lime Street Station to Crewe and then one to Euston Station in London but would then have to get another train to Southampton – a large port on the coast in Hampshire, he’d added helpfully. He was becoming more and more accustomed to worried wives and mothers coming in bearing these telegrams and was now familiar with the procedure. ‘Does your mother require financial assistance, miss?’

Alice replied. ‘Thank you but no, we can pay.’

‘But you’ll need somewhere to stay when you get there.’

She paused, not having thought about that. ‘We will, as we don’t know how long we’ll be there. They didn’t say what’s wrong with him.’

He nodded kindly. ‘If he hasn’t been wounded it’s usually either pneumonia or dysentery or some such, but don’t worry, miss, I’m sure he’s in very good hands. If you call in tomorrow, I’ll have sorted out a place for you to stay. The powers that be in the Army have issued lists of places – hostels and even private boarding houses – where relatives can stay.’

Alice thanked him and had resolved to call into the railway station on her way home to find out the train times. Mam would be so worried about Eddie that she’d want to go as soon as possible.

Sister Forshaw had been quite sympathetic, she’d thought as she tucked the timetables she’d been given at the station into a pocket in her bag. The January afternoon was bitterly cold with a freezing wind blowing down Lime Street and she shivered as she hurried towards the tram stop. After she’d explained that her mother had never travelled further from Liverpool than New Brighton in her life before and was quite obviously worrying herself sick about Eddie – her only son – Sister had said that it would be sensible for Alice to accompany her; she’d also said she was confident that her brother was receiving the best care and attention. Alice had posted the note she’d written to the office manager on her way out, so now all she had to do was sort out these train times and pack a few things.

Agnes was sitting with Maggie when she arrived home; Bertie was minding the shop, Agnes had informed her.

‘Did everything go . . . all right?’ Maggie asked.

Alice nodded as she took off her coat and hat and gratefully accepted the tea Agnes handed her. ‘Yes. I’ve got the timetables and if I call into the police station they’ll have found somewhere for us to stay.’

‘I’d wondered about that,’ Agnes mused. ‘It’s not as if you’re going just a few miles away. Bertie said it’s a long way to travel, and you will want to see that he’s being properly looked after.’ She felt sorry for her old friend but had impressed upon Maggie that it was a real blessing he wasn’t wounded or worse. That was something they all lived in dread of, herself included.

They all pored over the timetables and had worked out the travel plans.

‘It’s going to take ages and ages, Mam!’ Alice finally announced.

‘Then we’d better go as soon as possible,’ Maggie replied.

‘I’d go first thing in the morning to the police station, Maggie, then straight on to the station,’ Agnes advised, glad that Alice was accompanying her mother. She wished she could have gone with Maggie, but she had no idea how long her friend would be away and she had a shop to attend to, young Lucy and her mother, who was becoming increasingly frail.

‘We’ll do that, although heaven knows what time we’ll get to Southampton,’ Maggie replied.

‘Well, one thing is for certain, Mam, it will be far too late for hospital visiting,’ Alice said flatly, familiar with the strict hospital routine.

‘When you do see him, Maggie, and if he’s well enough, of course, would you do me a big favour?’ Agnes asked anxiously.

‘What?’

‘Ask him how those lads of mine are doing. I mean, he’ll be able to tell you more about how . . . things really are. Our Harry doesn’t say much in his letters and I worry more about him than our Jimmy. He’s always been the quieter of the two.’

Maggie nodded. It was understandable that Agnes would want to know more details than Harry supplied.

‘It’s just a pity that Mae wasn’t sent over a bit earlier. She might have been able to see him before they shipped him back home and she’d have told us more than they did in that telegram,’ Alice remarked.

Both women nodded although Agnes thought that probably Mae would have been sent straight to the hospital train as soon as she’d arrived. ‘I’m sure she would have – but how would she have known Eddie was so ill?’ she asked.

‘I never thought of that,’ Alice agreed and went to find a bag to pack for the journey.

Neither of them had slept very well that night and were up early. They set off straight away, having packed their few things into a carpet bag the night before. At the police station they were given an address and wished a good journey with good news at the end of it by the desk sergeant and they had duly caught the train for Crewe. Even though she was filled with anxiety about her brother, as the train travelled ever southwards Alice took in the passing countryside with great interest; she was looking forward to arriving in the capital city for, like Maggie, she had never been far from Liverpool before. They had to wait half an hour at Crewe for the London train and there was no time to marvel at the sights when they finally arrived for they had to find their way across the city to Waterloo Station to catch the train to Southampton. There they had to wait for over an hour for their connection and they both noticed that there seemed to be many other women making the same journey, all looking worried, harassed and a little bewildered. The sheer scale of the casualties began to dawn on Alice and she determined to work harder at her training and drop as many hints to both Sister Forshaw and Sister Tutor about how nurses were needed – no matter how young they were. Every pair of willing hands appeared to be desperately required.

It was very late when they finally reached their destination: a hostel in Eastleigh where they were assured that public transport to the hospital would be available the following day. They were both tired and irritable as they finally got to bed.

‘Oh, I never thought we were going to get here! How they expect us poor folk from the North and Scotland to negotiate all these strange towns and cities when we’re half out of our minds with worry, I don’t know,’ Maggie declared.

Alice mentally agreed, thinking that Mae’s journey must have seemed even longer for she’d had to cross the Channel as well. ‘Well, we’re here now, Mam. Try and get some sleep. We’ll see our Eddie tomorrow and hopefully he’ll be much better, which will put your mind at rest,’ she replied firmly, before closing her weary eyes.

The hospital reminded her very much of Walton, Alice thought as they entered. Same smell, same air of ordered routine. She was well aware that it wasn’t visiting time but was prepared to stick determinedly to her guns if they were going to be officious about it. They’d travelled so far that the hospital could bend the rules for once.

‘Yes? May I be of help?’ a nurse sitting at the reception desk asked.

Maggie handed her the telegram. ‘My son Private McEvoy is here.’

‘We’ve travelled from Liverpool,’ Alice added. At least the nurse didn’t seem too stiff, she thought.

‘Ah, yes. Would you please take a seat, Mrs McEvoy, while I fetch Sister.’

‘What’s the matter with him, Nurse, please? They didn’t say,’ Maggie asked a little fearfully, wondering why they were being asked to wait.

The woman smiled kindly. ‘Sister will give you all the facts.’

They both sat at one end of a long bench as the nurse disappeared. ‘At least she didn’t tell us to come back at visiting time,’ Alice said quietly, hoping they were not going to be left sitting here for long. She was relieved when the nurse came back down the corridor accompanied by a middle-aged sister. They both stood up, Maggie clutching her bag tightly and feeling sick with apprehension.

‘How bad is he, Sister? What’s wrong with him? Can we see him?’ The questions tumbled out for she was so worried and tears pricked her eyes.

‘Sit down, Mrs McEvoy, there’s no need for you to upset yourself. The news is good, very good. He’s over the worst now. He was brought in with severe pneumonia and for a while we were very concerned indeed about him, which is why you were notified, but he’s young and appears to have a strong constitution . . .’

‘Oh, thank God! Oh, thank you, Sister! I’ve been half out of my mind with worry.’ Maggie’s tears of concern had turned to those of joy and relief.

‘Can we see him, please? I’m his sister,’ Alice asked. She felt close to tears herself, she was so relieved.

‘Of course. If you’ll wait I’ll get a student nurse to show you to the ward. I’m afraid I am rather busy at present.’

Maggie sat down again; her legs seemed to have become weak.

‘Is the hospital full, Sister?’ Alice asked.

Sister raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘To capacity, Miss McEvoy, believe me. I just wish we had more beds, more staff, more equipment, but we must make the best of it for the patients’ sake.’

They were taken down a long corridor and then up a flight of stairs and along another corridor, which had wards leading off from each side and Alice noted that they were all full, the beds crammed in. Far more beds than were in the wards at Walton, she thought. There were so many questions she had wanted to ask the sister but hadn’t had time. At last they were taken into a ward and followed the young nurse who finally stopped beside a bed near the middle.

‘Here he is, Mrs McEvoy. He’s asleep but I’m sure he won’t mind you waking him.’ She smiled before turning away.

Maggie looked down at her son and bit her lip. He was so thin and so pale and looked so . . . so worn out. He’d changed so much from the lad she’d watched marching to Lime Street Station that day; it seemed long ago now. His experiences had aged him. ‘Shall we wake him?’ she asked Alice in a whisper.

Alice nodded; she too was shocked by his appearance. ‘He’ll be delighted to see you, Mam. It’s the best tonic he can have, I’m sure.’ She bent over and gently patted his thin shoulder. ‘Eddie. Eddie, Mam’s here to see you,’ she said quietly.