Ellie almost bumped straight into Scarlet as she hurried. Her friend was carrying a tiny metal tray, her mouth set in a hard line. But when she looked up, that expressionless face broke out into a smile.
‘Are you doing all right?’ Scarlet leaned into her, as Ellie did to her, taking a tiny bit of weight off her feet.
‘No,’ Ellie whispered honestly. The truth was she was so close to slipping to the floor like a puddle.
‘Me neither. Keep going, though. We can get through this.’
The moment was over as quickly as it had begun, but something about Scarlet gave Ellie strength – the determination in her eyes and the tone of her voice. Or maybe it was simply the letter sewn into her undergarments that she didn’t ever want to have to give to Scarlet’s family, or maybe it was knowing that she had a true friend out here who genuinely had her back. She might have been falling in love with Spencer, but the love she had for Scarlet was founded in a friendship that she knew would last until their last breaths.
‘Nurse!’
‘Old women,’ she murmured. She hoped those last breaths would be as old women, and they’d look back on this as something that was never, ever to be spoken of or relived again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Scarlet
The sun carefully peeked through the clouds above, and Scarlet turned her face up, smiling at the sliver of brightness bathing her cheeks. It felt like for ever since she’d seen the sun. If she blocked out the noise of war in the distance, imagined herself at home, walking the gardens instead of across a street that had been damaged by tanks and gunfire, she could almost be happy.
Scarlet straightened, looked around and sighed. She was thankful to spend a day away, to not have to work at the casualty clearance station, although she felt sad to have left Ellie behind. She knew Ellie wasn’t coping, could tell from how much she shook at night, not from cold, but from shock, and it worried her terribly. To her surprise, she was managing to cope, although she was finding it hard to block out the memories of what she was seeing each day. Thankfully, she was so exhausted that when she finally had the chance to sleep she fell into a deep slumber, not thinking about James or Thomas, or anything other than her bone-deep tiredness. She was finding the lack of food the hardest, serving the patients water and something to eat whilst having to go without herself. It was certainly not easy, although she doubted anything about war was supposed to be easy.
She crossed the street and recited the directions she’d been given, making her way to a convent that was housing some of the injured. From what she’d heard they’d taken in a great deal of soldiers at different times, and Scarlet had been sent to assist in any way she could.
She approached the big stone building, so far untouched by the war, and took a deep breath before entering. There was something peaceful about the old building, something nice about entering a peaceful place of God after what she’d been through lately, what she’d seen. Although she was certain the nuns would be dealing with their own fair share of atrocities here, too.
‘Bonjour?’ she called out as she entered.
Scarlet kept walking, hearing sounds but not sure where they were coming from. Then a nun appeared, a big smile greeting her the moment their eyes met.
‘Thank you for coming,’ the other woman said, extending her hand. She was young, far younger than Scarlet had expected, but then she hadn’t really known what to expect. ‘Come this way, we’ve been waiting for you.’ Her English was thickly accented, her lilting French accent meaning that Scarlet had to listen that bit harder to each word to understand what she was saying.
Scarlet nodded, falling into step beside her. ‘I’m Scarlet,’ she said.
‘Sister Florence,’ the nun replied.
‘I have to say it’s nice to be here, away from the hospital,’ Scarlet admitted. ‘The long shifts there are tough going, and the injuries are horrific.’
Sister Florence took her arm as they walked. ‘The men are fortunate to have so many caring for them. We pray every day for the nurses as much as the soldiers.’
It was comforting to be spoken to so kindly, and Scarlet was finding the convent beautifully peaceful – a reminder of times before the war perhaps.
‘Through here.’
When she entered the room, closed off by a large, heavy timber door, Scarlet’s breathing became shallow, the smell of injuries so familiar to her yet still so repugnant. There were men in makeshift beds, a good set-up of basic medical equipment, from what she could see, and nuns tending to the motionless patients.
‘I wasn’t expecting this,’ she declared.
‘This many men or the facilities we have?’ Sister Florence asked.
Scarlet took it all in, looking around the room and back again. ‘All of it.’
‘We’ve done our best, but some of the men need more help than we can give. We’re told there have been some delays with getting the soldiers back home for treatment.’
‘Yes, there have been, but we should be able to move those critical ones from here almost immediately.’
Scarlet surveyed the room again, trying to see if there was any order in which the men had been placed, whether the nuns had been keeping notes about any treatments or injuries received.
‘Should we look at those most critical first?’ Scarlet asked.
‘This way.’
The other women in the room all smiled and spoke briefly to her, some merely saying ‘bonjour’, and Scarlet replied in her usual friendly manner. But she only had limited time and wanted to make sure she made the correct assessments and assisted in the most effective way she could while she was there.
‘I will identify those that need immediate transportation, and report back to my superiors about the others.’ As she systematically looked at each man, she decided that tomorrow she would insist on Ellie taking her place. Ellie would be more at home here, might be able to recover a little if she was removed from the front, whereas Scarlet knew she herself could continue there without being as affected. She was finding that blood and gruesome injuries didn’t trouble her nearly as much as she’d feared they would, that she’d found strength in the work she was doing. It was the ones she lost that haunted her.
‘Do you need help here?’
Scarlet nodded. ‘If you could assist me that would be greatly appreciated. You could take notes as I make verbal assessments, and after that I’ll be able to go through bandaging and stitching with the sisters, as well as any other training that you need further instruction with.’
She always feared having to show anyone how to bandage, not thinking she was very good at it, but anything she could do here, she would.
‘May I ask if you’ve had any hot water? Been able to bathe at all?’ Florence asked as they walked away from the first patient.
‘Oh dear, can you tell?’ Scarlet’s eyebrows shot up, her cheeks warming from embarrassment.
‘No! I was being polite. We can make provision for you to wash here, to say thank you for your help.’