has been.
Nightmares of Castle Dracula kept me awake again last night. And this morning, as I stood before the mirror to pin up my hair for work, I was struck by my own haunted expression. It reminded me of one I have seen countless times at the sanatorium on the faces of patients freshly returned from the horror of the trenches. I know I can never truly imagine the physical agony the patients have suffered—continue to suffer— but I believe I understandsomething of the mental torment they endure.
Tiredness dragged at my limbs through my shift. I felt the very air heavy on me as I moved about the ward.
“You should go earlier to your bed, Seward,” Sister chided when she caught me yawning.
“Yes, Sister,” I mumbled. If only it were that simple, I thought as I watched her walk smartly off the ward. Wearily I prepared a tray of scissors, forceps, and bandages in readiness for the next round of dressing changes.
As I passed by Sergeant Hopkins’s bed, the tray slipped from my fingers. Fatigue had made me clumsy and the instruments clattered to the floor, skidding in every direction.
A great cheer rose up among the men.
“Blimey, Seward—you’ll be for it now!” Sergeant Hopkins teased as I crouched down and started to gather the instruments back onto the tray.
Helen hurried over and reached down for a bandage that had unrolled beneath Sergeant Hopkins’s bed. “Here,” she said, handing it to me. “We’ll have this cleared up and another tray prepared before the doctor arrives. Sister doesn’t even need to know—
does she, Sergeant Hopkins
?”
Sergeant Hopkins gave us both a wink and tapped his nose. “Not a word shall pass our lips, eh, lads?” he said with a grin.
The other patients good-naturedly called their agreement.
“Thanks, Helen,” I murmured, greatly touched by herkindness. Her efficiency smoothed my ragged nerves. On the spur of the moment, I decided I would ask her about sitting with Father.
“Helen,” I began hesitantly, “I wondered if I might ask you a favour. . . .”
“Why, of course,” Helen answered immediately. Indeed, she looked pleased to be asked. “What is it?”
“I have received a dinner invitation,” I explained. “Left to me, I would decline it, as my father is in poor health and I don’t like to leave him alone. But Father is insistent I go out and socialise . . .” I went on, feeling my lips break into a rueful smile. “So, I was hoping that you might consider sitting with him that evening. It’s on the nineteenth.”
Helen’s face fell. “Oh, Mary, I would love to help you out, but. . .” She hesitated. “Johnny, my gentleman friend, returns from the front that day. I’m so—”
“No apologies. Of course you’ll want to spend the evening with him,” I excused her hurriedly, straightening the scissors on the tray beside me. Inwardly I heaved a sigh of relief.
“But maybe Stella or Becky could do it,” Helen offered.
I swallowed hard. “Don’t they both do night duties?”
“Well, it might be a night off for their rota.” Helen fixed me in a playful grin. “They do sometimes get them, you know!”
“Of course,” I muttered, disheartened.
“Why don’t you come back with me after our shift and meet them?” Helen offered eagerly. “Stella especially might be keen to help you out—she hates staying in on her evenings off; she gets cabin fever shut up in our poky little house!”
I forced a grateful smile, aware I should not let my anxieties overwhelm good sense. “Well, if you’re sure . . .” I replied. I had quickly grown comfortable in Helen’s good-natured company; why shouldn’t her friends be as reliable and trustworthy as she?
So, at the end of our shift, I accompanied Helen to the small house at the end of the village where she was boarding with Stella and Becky. She unlocked the front door with her key and bounded straight up the stairs calling, “Hello, there! I’ve brought a visitor!”
I followed her
Nightmares of Castle Dracula kept me awake again last night. And this morning, as I stood before the mirror to pin up my hair for work, I was struck by my own haunted expression. It reminded me of one I have seen countless times at the sanatorium on the faces of patients freshly returned from the horror of the trenches. I know I can never truly imagine the physical agony the patients have suffered—continue to suffer— but I believe I understandsomething of the mental torment they endure.
Tiredness dragged at my limbs through my shift. I felt the very air heavy on me as I moved about the ward.
“You should go earlier to your bed, Seward,” Sister chided when she caught me yawning.
“Yes, Sister,” I mumbled. If only it were that simple, I thought as I watched her walk smartly off the ward. Wearily I prepared a tray of scissors, forceps, and bandages in readiness for the next round of dressing changes.
As I passed by Sergeant Hopkins’s bed, the tray slipped from my fingers. Fatigue had made me clumsy and the instruments clattered to the floor, skidding in every direction.
A great cheer rose up among the men.
“Blimey, Seward—you’ll be for it now!” Sergeant Hopkins teased as I crouched down and started to gather the instruments back onto the tray.
Helen hurried over and reached down for a bandage that had unrolled beneath Sergeant Hopkins’s bed. “Here,” she said, handing it to me. “We’ll have this cleared up and another tray prepared before the doctor arrives. Sister doesn’t even need to know—
does she, Sergeant Hopkins
?”
Sergeant Hopkins gave us both a wink and tapped his nose. “Not a word shall pass our lips, eh, lads?” he said with a grin.
The other patients good-naturedly called their agreement.
“Thanks, Helen,” I murmured, greatly touched by herkindness. Her efficiency smoothed my ragged nerves. On the spur of the moment, I decided I would ask her about sitting with Father.
“Helen,” I began hesitantly, “I wondered if I might ask you a favour. . . .”
“Why, of course,” Helen answered immediately. Indeed, she looked pleased to be asked. “What is it?”
“I have received a dinner invitation,” I explained. “Left to me, I would decline it, as my father is in poor health and I don’t like to leave him alone. But Father is insistent I go out and socialise . . .” I went on, feeling my lips break into a rueful smile. “So, I was hoping that you might consider sitting with him that evening. It’s on the nineteenth.”
Helen’s face fell. “Oh, Mary, I would love to help you out, but. . .” She hesitated. “Johnny, my gentleman friend, returns from the front that day. I’m so—”
“No apologies. Of course you’ll want to spend the evening with him,” I excused her hurriedly, straightening the scissors on the tray beside me. Inwardly I heaved a sigh of relief.
“But maybe Stella or Becky could do it,” Helen offered.
I swallowed hard. “Don’t they both do night duties?”
“Well, it might be a night off for their rota.” Helen fixed me in a playful grin. “They do sometimes get them, you know!”
“Of course,” I muttered, disheartened.
“Why don’t you come back with me after our shift and meet them?” Helen offered eagerly. “Stella especially might be keen to help you out—she hates staying in on her evenings off; she gets cabin fever shut up in our poky little house!”
I forced a grateful smile, aware I should not let my anxieties overwhelm good sense. “Well, if you’re sure . . .” I replied. I had quickly grown comfortable in Helen’s good-natured company; why shouldn’t her friends be as reliable and trustworthy as she?
So, at the end of our shift, I accompanied Helen to the small house at the end of the village where she was boarding with Stella and Becky. She unlocked the front door with her key and bounded straight up the stairs calling, “Hello, there! I’ve brought a visitor!”
I followed her
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