The Ship of Brides(16)
Author: Jojo Moyes

‘You’ve meant the world to me, Sister.’ Sergeant O’Brien held her pale hand in both of his, voice tearful with drink.

‘Nothing that any of us wouldn’t have done,’ she said, a little curtly.

‘Sister! Sister, come here.’ Private Lerwick was reckoning. Audrey saw the girl register him, and then the number of people she would have to pass to get to him. ‘Come on, Sister Mackenzie. You made me a promise, remember?’

‘I really don’t think—’

‘You wouldn’t break a promise to a wounded man, would you, Sister?’ Private Lerwick’s expression was comically hangdog.

The men on each side of him joined in chorus: ‘Come on, Sister, you promised.’

Then the room went very quiet. Audrey Marshall saw the girls step back as they waited to see what Sister Mackenzie would do.

Finally, unable to bear the girl’s dilemma any longer, she intervened: ‘Private, I’ll thank you to get back into your bed.’ She walked briskly across to where he sat. ‘Promise or no promise, you’re not ready to be out of it.’

‘Aw, Matron. Give a guy a break.’

She was lifting his leg back on to the mattress when a voice said, ‘It’s all right, Matron.’ She turned to see the girl standing behind her, face bright. Only the fluttering of her pale hands betrayed her discomfort. ‘I did promise.’

Audrey felt, rather than saw, the gaze of the other women and, despite the heat, felt her skin prickle. ‘If you’re sure, Sister.’

She was a tall girl so she had to stoop as she helped the young man to a sitting position, and then, arm under his shoulders in a long-practised manoeuvre, hauled him to his feet.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Sergeant Levy yelled for music, and someone jigged the gramophone back into life.

‘Go on, Scottie,’ said the man behind her. ‘Just don’t step on her toes.’

‘I couldn’t dance before,’ he joked, as they moved slowly on to the sandy area that had passed as the dance floor. ‘Two pounds of shrapnel in my knees isn’t going to help none.’

They began to dance. ‘Ah, Sister,’ Audrey heard him say, ‘you don’t know how long I’ve been wishing for this.’

Those men still nearby broke out a spontaneous round of applause. Audrey Marshall found she was clapping too, moved by the sight of the frail man standing tall and proud, beaming to have achieved his modest ambition: to stand on a dance floor again with a woman in his arms. She watched the girl, braving her own discomfort for him, rangy arms tensed to support him if he lost his balance. A kind girl. A good nurse.

That was the saddest part of it.

The music stopped. Private Lerwick sank gratefully into his bed, still grinning despite his obvious exhaustion. Audrey felt her heart sink, knowing that the simple act of kindness would count against the young nurse. Knowing that, as the girl searched with her eyes for her bags, she was aware of it too. ‘I’ll see you out, Sister,’ she said, wanting to save her further exposure.

Private Lerwick was still hanging on to her hand. ‘We know what you’ve all done, coming here in your time off . . . You’ve all been like – like our sisters.’ He broke down and, after a brief hesitation, Sister Mackenzie bent over him, murmuring to him not to upset himself. ‘That’s what I’ll think of when I think of you, Sister. Nothing else. I just wish poor Chalkie . . .’

Audrey placed herself swiftly between them. ‘I’m sure we’re all very grateful to Sister Mackenzie, aren’t we? And I’m sure we’d like to wish her all the best for the future.’

A few nurses clapped politely. A couple of the men exchanged a smirk.

‘Thank you,’ the girl said quietly. ‘Thank you. I’m glad to have known you . . . all . . .’ She bit her lip and glanced towards the door of the tent, apparently desperate to be away.

‘I’ll see you out, Sister.’

‘You take care now, Sister Mackenzie.’

‘Give the boys at home our best.’

‘Tell my missus to warm up my side of the bed.’ This was accompanied by ribald laughter.

Audrey, lifted briefly from her strange, low-level anxiety, observed this with satisfaction. Several weeks ago, some of the men could not have told her their wife’s name.

The two women walked slowly towards the ship, only the sound of their starched uniforms and the soft thud of their shoes on the sand breaking the silence as the sounds of the party faded. They walked the length of the perimeter fence, past the now-deserted rows of hospital tents, the corrugated-iron staff quarters, cookhouse and latrines. They nodded at the security guard on the gate, who saluted, and then, free of the camp, they walked the length of the deserted road to the end of the peninsula, footsteps echoing on the Tarmac, to where the hospital ship sat in the glinting water, illuminated by the moon.

They reached the checkpoint and stopped. Sister Mackenzie stared at the ship, and Audrey Marshall wondered what was going through the girl’s head, suspecting she knew the answer. ‘Not long to Sydney, is it?’ she said, when the silence became awkward.

‘No. Not long at all.’

There were too many inappropriate questions, too many trite answers. Audrey fought the urge to place an arm round the girl, wishing she could better express some of what she felt. ‘You’re doing the right thing, Frances,’ she said, eventually. ‘I’d do the same if I were you.’

The girl looked at her, back straight, eyes level. She had always been guarded, Audrey thought, but in the past weeks her expression had closed over as completely as if it had been cast in marble. ‘Don’t pay any attention to the others,’ she said suddenly. ‘They’re probably just jealous.’

They both knew that wasn’t it.

‘Fresh start, eh?’ she said, holding out her hand.

‘Fresh start.’ Sister Mackenzie shook it firmly. Her hand was cool, despite the heat. Her expression was unreadable. ‘Thank you.’

‘You take care now.’ Audrey was not a woman given to sentiment or high emotion. As the girl turned towards the ship, she nodded, brushing off her slacks and went back towards the camp.

PART TWO

4

Sydney’s most stirring show last week was the departure for England of HMS Victorious with 700 Australian wives of British servicemen aboard. Hours before the ship sailed the road outside the wharf was dense with relatives and friends . . . Mostly the brides were amazingly young.’