Chapter 13 Elsie
Elsie
Thanks to Mr Gold taking me in his car, I got to the hospital early so I decided to make the most of my time and take the book round to the airmen.
Because they’d all been eager to write letters to their families, I thought they would embrace the idea of writing in the notebook and I hoped their enthusiasm would rub off on the other patients. It was worth a try anyway.
So, as soon as I arrived, I hurried out to the new huts where the airmen were.
‘I’m Nurse Watson,’ I said to the Red Cross nurse who was filling in forms at the nurses’ station just by the door.
She was an older woman, probably in her early fifties.
I recalled her being efficient and caring on the day the airmen had arrived.
‘I helped set up the beds when the patients arrived?’
She looked up and me and smiled. ‘I remember. I’m Nurse Cassidy. Call me Judith.’
‘I’m Elsie,’ I said.
‘What can I do for you, Elsie?’
I showed her the book. ‘My friend Nelly and I wrote some letters to the families of your men who were too injured to be able to write for themselves,’ I explained.
‘I heard,’ she said with a smile. ‘That was very kind.’
‘Chatting with the men that day, and writing the letters, made us think that some of the patients might want to share memories. Or have some words written down in case of the worst. So I’ve brought a notebook for them to write in.’
‘What a lovely idea. They’ll be so pleased. And I’m pleased they’ll have something to do.’ She leaned over the desk and lowered her voice. ‘Some of them are feeling better already and between you and me, they’re beginning to get a bit cheeky. Pushing the boundaries, you know?’
That made me think about Jackson who didn’t appear to have any boundaries, and I felt a little queasy. ‘They’re not bothering you, are they?’
Judith rolled her eyes. ‘Nothing I can’t handle, bless them. They’re just boys, aren’t they? Most of them are younger than my own kids. Poor lambs.’
I felt my shoulders relax. Honestly, I’d got myself in such a tizz over Jackson when he was the same. Just a young man, coping as best he could in a strange situation.
‘Go on in,’ Judith said. ‘They’ll be pleased to see you.’
Nodding my thanks, I took my notebook and went into the ward.
There was a buzz of energy there. Some of the airmen were sleeping.
Others were reading, lying on top of their bedsheets.
A couple were sitting on adjacent beds playing cards.
I looked for Harry and was pleased when I saw him in his bed.
He was sitting up but his head was resting on his pillow and his eyes were shut.
‘Hello?’ I said, hoping they’d all pay attention to me.
The airmen all quietened down and looked up at me obediently and I sent silent thanks to their commanding officers who’d clearly trained them well.
Harry opened his eyes and looked at me and I felt the weight of his gaze like a warm shawl around my shoulders.
‘Hello,’ I said again. ‘It’s me again, Nurse Watson. Do you remember my friend Nurse Malone and I were here the other day, writing letters for some of you?’
‘As if we’d forget you,’ one of the men called from the end of the room. ‘I never forget a pretty face.’
‘That’s enough, Eric,’ said Judith from the desk.
I grinned. I liked these men, even if they were a bit cheeky.
‘When I was here before, some of you shared some memories and stuff with me.’ I caught Harry’s eye and gave him a little smile. ‘And some of you said you’d like to write messages for your loved ones, in case … well, in case you don’t make it back.’
The quiet in the ward grew more intense for a moment as the men all considered my words.
‘Apparently during the last war, some nurses kept books of memories for their patients,’ I went on. ‘And I thought it was a lovely idea. So I’m going to do the same.’
‘A book of last letters,’ said Eric.
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘But not only last letters. Anything at all. I’m going to leave this notebook here with you and you can just write whatever you feel like. Anything at all.’
‘What did you say your name was?’ one airman shouted.
‘Nurse Watson.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Dear Nurse Watson,’ he began, and the other men all groaned and laughed. I smiled too, enjoying their good spirits.
‘Like I said, just write or draw whatever you want. You can write about your experiences at Biggin Hill, or what it feels like to fly.’ I saw Harry give a little nod and I was glad.
‘Write letters home if you want, or notes to your sweethearts, or draw a picture or two. Messages, poems, Bible verses, tributes to friends you’ve lost …
’ I looked round at them all. ‘Writing is a good way to get your thoughts in order.’
‘Anything at all?’ said a boy who was studying the newspaper though he barely looked old enough to know how to read.
‘Anything at all.’ I smiled at them all.
‘And if we write messages, you’ll pass them on, will you?’ said another airman, his brows drawing together.
‘Of course – if you want me to. Or if you don’t want to, that’s fine too. You don’t even have to put your name to what you write if you don’t want to. It’s up to you.’
There was a ripple of conversation and I put my hand up to quieten them.
‘I’ve got to go now. Can I trust you to look after the book?’
The men all murmured their agreement. ‘Good. And please help each other to write if there’s anyone who’s unable to hold the pencil.’ I glanced at Harry again and he grinned at me and I felt a little flicker of something, deep down inside me. ‘I’ll come and collect it in the morning.’
‘Thanks, Nurse,’ said Eric. ‘This is a really good thing you’re doing.’
My eyes felt hot with tears suddenly, and I blinked them away. ‘Who’s first?’ I said.
The newspaper-reading lad raised his hand politely and I went to him and gave him the notebook and pencils.
He opened the pad to a clean page and tapped it with his fingertips. ‘Now I just have to decide what to write,’ he said, picking up a pencil.
‘Good luck,’ I said. ‘Pass it round and I’ll come back and get it tomorrow.’
I left them all chatting, pleased that the notebook had received such a positive response. As I walked along the ward, I noticed that the bed I’d helped one of the more injured airmen into – the lad with the shredded face – was empty.
‘What happened to the chap in bed 2?’ I asked Judith as I made my way to the door of the ward.
She screwed her nose up. ‘Vinny? He didn’t make it.’
I put my hand over my mouth, shocked even though I saw death every day.
‘Poor lad. Sepsis it was. Takes them quick.’
I shuddered. ‘Such a shame.’
Judith nodded. ‘Thanks for bringing the notebook for them. I’ll make sure they don’t write anything too bawdy.’
I glanced over my shoulder over to where the men were laughing uproariously about something. ‘Good luck with that,’ I said.
*
It was another busy night shift, but throughout the chaos I found my thoughts drifting to the men in the huts and wondering if they were busy writing in the book. So when I eventually handed over to the nurses on the day shift, I raced round to the huts.
Judith wasn’t there, but there were other Red Cross nurses working, who were just as friendly. And when I walked in, the airmen all began calling to me, a cacophony of voices that made my head spin.
‘Nurse, I wrote a note for you!’
‘I’ve drawn some pictures, Nurse!’
‘I don’t know where my family are, Nurse. Can you find them?’
I looked around me, unsure where to start, and I couldn’t see where the book was. Harry clearly saw me looking lost and raised his voice.
‘Oi,’ he growled and the men all fell silent. ‘Nurse Watson here is doing a nice thing for us. Let’s be polite, shall we.’
I smiled at him and he smiled back and I felt something pass between us, almost like recognition. ‘I’ve got the book here,’ he said, picking it up from his bedside and holding it aloft. ‘The lads have almost filled it.’
I felt a rush of satisfaction and happiness. ‘Have they really?’ I looked round the makeshift ward. ‘Have you all written?’
‘Think everyone wrote something, or got someone to write for them,’ said the cheeky one called Eric. ‘Except for Mark. But he’s not so good with words.’
A man at the end of the ward, whom I assumed was Mark, grumbled and then let out a hearty laugh that delighted me. ‘True,’ he said, unabashed. ‘My letters always get jumbled up. But I drew a picture of Vinny.’
Vinny – the fellow they’d lost.
‘It felt good,’ Mark went on. ‘To have a chance to honour him.’
I nodded, moved by how well they’d taken to the idea.
‘We enjoyed it and we reckon you should take it all round the hospital,’ Harry said. He pronounced “take” like “tek”. I liked the way he spoke. ‘I’ve heard there are patients here from different parts of London. The docks and that?’
‘There are. They bring them down from the East End when the raids happen.’
‘And Nurse Cassidy said some of them don’t stay here?’
‘No, they often go to safer hospitals, down in Kent or Sussex.’
‘Maybe their families won’t know what’s happened then?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘You need to let them write in the book, too. Not just us airmen. Everyone.’
I smiled at him. ‘I will. That’s exactly what I’m planning to do. And now you’ve started things off, others will follow.’
‘Will you come back and tell us about it?’
‘Of course.’
‘Right, men. The dinner trolley’s on its way so how about you let Nurse Watson get home, please?’ said one of the nurses, who looked like a film star with huge blue eyes, but had a gruff, earthy voice that carried over the clamour of the men’s questions.
‘Bye then,’ I said to the men.
Harry winked at me and I felt my cheeks redden. ‘Bye, Nurse Watson,’ he said.
*
I had intended to take the book home and have a look inside, but I couldn’t wait. So I went to the staffroom, sat down and opened it up.
It was better than I’d ever dreamt possible. The airmen had completely understood what I wanted them to do, and the result was astonishing.