sounds very good, thank you, madam,’ said Poppy. At least it wasn’t a tent.
‘So, if you’re ready to go now, ask at the travel office through the door . . .’ she gestured to the right, ‘. . . and they’ll supply you with a warrant to catch the afternoon train.’
VAD Unit No. 1765
c /o YWCA Hostel, Southampton
16th June 1915
Hello Billy,
I expect Ma has told you: I have enrolled as a VAD and I am on my way to Southampton on the train as I write this. My unit number is written above. If you want to write to me then please address letters to me c/o the YWCA Hostel.
I’m terrifically proud to be helping the war effort and I expect you are, too. You must have nearly finished your training. I wonder if you will be posted abroad? Ma said that you are with a group of pals – I expect that will make all the difference and stop you feeling homesick. Billy, please make sure you write to Ma regularly and let her know (as far as you are allowed to by the censor) where you are and that you are well, for she will be worrying about you very much. Let’s hope that before too long we win the war and are back living peacefully in Mayfield.
I said I’m proud to be doing what I’m doing, but I’m also very nervous. I know my life won’t be in danger like yours, but I’ll be away from everyone I know and doing a difficult job whilst trying to keep a smile on my face no matter what. Southampton could be South America as far as I’m concerned – I won’t know anyone and everyone says the VADs are mostly very posh. Think of me speaking in my best voice all the time – it will be such a strain!
Writing of Mayfield, Ma told me that because of the anti-German feeling, Mrs Schmit had to close her sweet shop. Such a shame – she was a nice lady and had never even lived in Germany! People shouted at her in the street, though, and twice her front window was kicked in.
Do let me know how things are going.
With best love,
your sister Poppy
She wrote a few lines to her mother and sent postcards to both Molly and Cook, telling them where she was going and asking that any letters be sent on to the YWCA in Southampton. And then she just stared out of the window while the train belched steam and the English countryside passed by. Both she and Billy in uniform, she marvelled. How quickly things had changed!
Southampton. First port of call for injured soldiers. She didn’t want to see Freddie injured – couldn’t bear to think of it – but if he was, she would be there waiting for him . . .
Chapter Eight
By the time Poppy arrived at what had once been the YWCA Hostel in the back streets of Southampton, it was late in the afternoon. The big house was shabby and had an interior which was quite cheerless, but it was placed very conveniently for the VADs at local military hospitals.
The new girls were allocated a bed space as they arrived at the hostel, and Poppy found herself in a largish room which had been partitioned off by faded curtains into three separate areas. One of these areas was already occupied, to judge by the overflowing locker and the clothes hanging behind the bed, so she took one of the other two cubicles, which had its own small window. She sat down on the narrow bed and, before unpacking, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to compose herself.
She was here. She had arrived. She was going to be a nurse . . .
On the third breath there was a sudden noise outside her curtain, the thump and clatter of cases being thrown down and the stamp of a foot.
‘Oh, how perfectly hateful!’ Poppy heard a girl’s voice say. ‘I can’t bear to be confined in such an awful dank little space!’
The curtain which surrounded Poppy was tugged open a little and a face looked in.
‘I say, you’ve got a window!’ said the girl. She pulled the curtain aside and Poppy saw a tall, slim young woman of about eighteen, in a dark linen coat and velvet hat, her fair hair flowing in ripples
‘So, if you’re ready to go now, ask at the travel office through the door . . .’ she gestured to the right, ‘. . . and they’ll supply you with a warrant to catch the afternoon train.’
VAD Unit No. 1765
c /o YWCA Hostel, Southampton
16th June 1915
Hello Billy,
I expect Ma has told you: I have enrolled as a VAD and I am on my way to Southampton on the train as I write this. My unit number is written above. If you want to write to me then please address letters to me c/o the YWCA Hostel.
I’m terrifically proud to be helping the war effort and I expect you are, too. You must have nearly finished your training. I wonder if you will be posted abroad? Ma said that you are with a group of pals – I expect that will make all the difference and stop you feeling homesick. Billy, please make sure you write to Ma regularly and let her know (as far as you are allowed to by the censor) where you are and that you are well, for she will be worrying about you very much. Let’s hope that before too long we win the war and are back living peacefully in Mayfield.
I said I’m proud to be doing what I’m doing, but I’m also very nervous. I know my life won’t be in danger like yours, but I’ll be away from everyone I know and doing a difficult job whilst trying to keep a smile on my face no matter what. Southampton could be South America as far as I’m concerned – I won’t know anyone and everyone says the VADs are mostly very posh. Think of me speaking in my best voice all the time – it will be such a strain!
Writing of Mayfield, Ma told me that because of the anti-German feeling, Mrs Schmit had to close her sweet shop. Such a shame – she was a nice lady and had never even lived in Germany! People shouted at her in the street, though, and twice her front window was kicked in.
Do let me know how things are going.
With best love,
your sister Poppy
She wrote a few lines to her mother and sent postcards to both Molly and Cook, telling them where she was going and asking that any letters be sent on to the YWCA in Southampton. And then she just stared out of the window while the train belched steam and the English countryside passed by. Both she and Billy in uniform, she marvelled. How quickly things had changed!
Southampton. First port of call for injured soldiers. She didn’t want to see Freddie injured – couldn’t bear to think of it – but if he was, she would be there waiting for him . . .
Chapter Eight
By the time Poppy arrived at what had once been the YWCA Hostel in the back streets of Southampton, it was late in the afternoon. The big house was shabby and had an interior which was quite cheerless, but it was placed very conveniently for the VADs at local military hospitals.
The new girls were allocated a bed space as they arrived at the hostel, and Poppy found herself in a largish room which had been partitioned off by faded curtains into three separate areas. One of these areas was already occupied, to judge by the overflowing locker and the clothes hanging behind the bed, so she took one of the other two cubicles, which had its own small window. She sat down on the narrow bed and, before unpacking, closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to compose herself.
She was here. She had arrived. She was going to be a nurse . . .
On the third breath there was a sudden noise outside her curtain, the thump and clatter of cases being thrown down and the stamp of a foot.
‘Oh, how perfectly hateful!’ Poppy heard a girl’s voice say. ‘I can’t bear to be confined in such an awful dank little space!’
The curtain which surrounded Poppy was tugged open a little and a face looked in.
‘I say, you’ve got a window!’ said the girl. She pulled the curtain aside and Poppy saw a tall, slim young woman of about eighteen, in a dark linen coat and velvet hat, her fair hair flowing in ripples
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