for life.’
‘What’s a factured spine, Nurse?’ the boy had whispered to Theda after Sister had returned to her office.
‘Fractured spine,’ Theda had replied. ‘And it means a broken back.’
Peter had blanched. He knew well enough what that was and he lay quite still for the rest of the day. Mr Gates, a man who lived at the other end of his street, had a broken back from the pit and had to be wheeled about in a long carriage as though he were a baby.
David, the boy recovering from an appendicectomy, gazed dubiously at his bread and banana. ‘I’m not sure I like it, Nurse,’ he said.
‘Go on, have a bite,’ urged Theda, and he took a tiny morsel in his mouth. His face cleared and he grinned.
‘By, it’s lovely, isn’t it?’
All in all, the fruit, especially the bananas, were an enormous success, Theda reported to Joss that evening.
‘Where did you get them? I didn’t know they grew bananas in Italy, Joss,’ she said.
He tapped his nose and looked mysterious. ‘Now then, careless talk costs lives.’
‘Oh, aye, and where is the German spy who might be listening in here?’ asked Chuck, sitting in his black having just come in from the pit as he had worked overtime on his back shift. Chuck was training to be a deputy overman and had ambitions to raise himself to manager at least in time to take over from Tucker Cornish when he retired. Norma, his girl, fuelled his ambitions. She fancied rising above the pit rows and becoming mistress of the manager’s house on the outskirts of the village.
Next morning Joss travelled into Bishop Auckland with Theda, his forty-eight-hour leave over, gone in a flash. Now he had to catch a train to somewhere in the south of England to join up with his regiment and then they would be off again, to somewhere on the continent.
They walked up the path from the bus stop together, Joss with his kitbag on his shoulder and Theda in her nurse’s uniform. They paused on the station bridge where she had to turn left for the hospital and Joss had to cross the road for the station.
‘Mind you look after yourself, our Joss,’ she admonished. ‘Don’t walk under a tank, especially not a German one.’
Joss grinned. ‘Nay, lass, you know me. I keep my head down all right, I’m not one for trouble.’ He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and then changed his mind and hugged her tight so that the passers by turned to look at the handsome soldier and his girl saying their goodbyes and Theda thumped him on the chest.
‘Behave yourself, our Joss,’ she said, and his grin grew wider. He stepped back and waved cheerily before striding the road, whistling merrily: ‘I’m Going to Get Lit Up When the Lights Go On in London’.
Theda gazed after him until he had rounded the corner into the station before she continued on her way to the hospital. Oh, well, she thought, Joss had survived Tobruk and the landings in Sicily – maybe he did bear a charmed life. In any case, it was no good worrying about it. With a bit of luck the war would be over soon.
The following Sunday, Theda had to report to Sister Smith on Hut K. A man in hospital blue came out of the toilets as she entered the ward.
‘ Morgen , Nurse,’ he said, bowing his head in what she knew was a courteous gesture though it seemed very foreign to her.
‘Good morning,’ she answered, nevertheless. There were two more ambulant patients in the kitchen, she saw, murmuring in what she presumed was German as they washed up the breakfast pots. Of course, she thought, they would have their own men working as orderlies. Well, it would save the nurses a lot of cleaning work, she didn’t object to that. She took off her hat and coat in the tiny cloakroom and put on her apron and white cap. Taking a deep breath, she walked down the corridor to Sister’s office and knocked on the door.
Afterwards, when the day was over and she was free to leave Hut K, Theda was startled to realise she had almost forgotten her patients
‘What’s a factured spine, Nurse?’ the boy had whispered to Theda after Sister had returned to her office.
‘Fractured spine,’ Theda had replied. ‘And it means a broken back.’
Peter had blanched. He knew well enough what that was and he lay quite still for the rest of the day. Mr Gates, a man who lived at the other end of his street, had a broken back from the pit and had to be wheeled about in a long carriage as though he were a baby.
David, the boy recovering from an appendicectomy, gazed dubiously at his bread and banana. ‘I’m not sure I like it, Nurse,’ he said.
‘Go on, have a bite,’ urged Theda, and he took a tiny morsel in his mouth. His face cleared and he grinned.
‘By, it’s lovely, isn’t it?’
All in all, the fruit, especially the bananas, were an enormous success, Theda reported to Joss that evening.
‘Where did you get them? I didn’t know they grew bananas in Italy, Joss,’ she said.
He tapped his nose and looked mysterious. ‘Now then, careless talk costs lives.’
‘Oh, aye, and where is the German spy who might be listening in here?’ asked Chuck, sitting in his black having just come in from the pit as he had worked overtime on his back shift. Chuck was training to be a deputy overman and had ambitions to raise himself to manager at least in time to take over from Tucker Cornish when he retired. Norma, his girl, fuelled his ambitions. She fancied rising above the pit rows and becoming mistress of the manager’s house on the outskirts of the village.
Next morning Joss travelled into Bishop Auckland with Theda, his forty-eight-hour leave over, gone in a flash. Now he had to catch a train to somewhere in the south of England to join up with his regiment and then they would be off again, to somewhere on the continent.
They walked up the path from the bus stop together, Joss with his kitbag on his shoulder and Theda in her nurse’s uniform. They paused on the station bridge where she had to turn left for the hospital and Joss had to cross the road for the station.
‘Mind you look after yourself, our Joss,’ she admonished. ‘Don’t walk under a tank, especially not a German one.’
Joss grinned. ‘Nay, lass, you know me. I keep my head down all right, I’m not one for trouble.’ He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and then changed his mind and hugged her tight so that the passers by turned to look at the handsome soldier and his girl saying their goodbyes and Theda thumped him on the chest.
‘Behave yourself, our Joss,’ she said, and his grin grew wider. He stepped back and waved cheerily before striding the road, whistling merrily: ‘I’m Going to Get Lit Up When the Lights Go On in London’.
Theda gazed after him until he had rounded the corner into the station before she continued on her way to the hospital. Oh, well, she thought, Joss had survived Tobruk and the landings in Sicily – maybe he did bear a charmed life. In any case, it was no good worrying about it. With a bit of luck the war would be over soon.
The following Sunday, Theda had to report to Sister Smith on Hut K. A man in hospital blue came out of the toilets as she entered the ward.
‘ Morgen , Nurse,’ he said, bowing his head in what she knew was a courteous gesture though it seemed very foreign to her.
‘Good morning,’ she answered, nevertheless. There were two more ambulant patients in the kitchen, she saw, murmuring in what she presumed was German as they washed up the breakfast pots. Of course, she thought, they would have their own men working as orderlies. Well, it would save the nurses a lot of cleaning work, she didn’t object to that. She took off her hat and coat in the tiny cloakroom and put on her apron and white cap. Taking a deep breath, she walked down the corridor to Sister’s office and knocked on the door.
Afterwards, when the day was over and she was free to leave Hut K, Theda was startled to realise she had almost forgotten her patients
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