Etty Aldiss. - Are yer sure I should be out 'ere? Etty Aldiss asks, unsure of herself and her fragile lungs. She casts a glance at the nurse beside her who pulls a face and then smiles. - Of course you should, my dear, Etty. Fresh air is good for you, Nurse Bird replies, tapping Etty's arm gently. You don't think I'd bring you out here if I thought it would do you any harm, do you. - S’pose not, Etty replies quietly. They descend the steps slowly, Etty linking her right arm through that of the nurse. Having reached ground level they stand and look around them. Etty breathes in hesitantly as she gazes up at the tall oaks across the way. She wonders if Rose Harknall had been outside before she'd died. Rose had been one of her friends at the sanatorium and had made her feel less homesick when she first arrived a year before. Now she was dead. One of those that hadn't made it through tuberculosis. She sighs and stares more intently at the oak tree swaying in the morning breeze. - Thinking about, Rose? Nurse Bird enquires sensitively. - Yerse, Etty says, can't get 'er out of me mind. I fort she was gona make it thru. She pauses. The image of Rose seems to appear amongst the branches of the tree, then disappears as swiftly as it had come. - I’ve seen it all before, Etty, my dear. They appear to rally, then they decline and ... Florence Bird stops. - ‘Ow long yer bin a nurse, then? Etty asks, attempting to move away from death and Rose's demise. - I had T.B. like you and after I had recovered and been cured, they asked would I like to be a nurse and help those who were suffering as I had done. I thought about it and decided I would, so here I am. Florence Bird replies reflectingly. - You 'ad T.B. too? Etty says in surprise. - Yes, Florence replies. I was fourteen when I first had the symptoms and I was away for nearly six years. - Gawd, Etty exclaims. Fancy coming back agen; you must be brave. She turns and looks hard and deeply at the short stout nurse beside her. Florence smiles at her and they walk forward across the grass towards part of the small wood that surrounds the sanatorium. - My mother was a nurse, Florence Bird informs after a few minutes of silence. She had to give it up when I came a long in 1911. Then when the Great War broke out she joined up as a nurse again and my gran looked after me. Florence pauses for few moments. My father was killed on the Somme in 1916 when I was about five. I don't remember him, but mother has a photograph of him that I have seen. He seemed a good-looking man from the photograph but that is all I have to remind me of him. She pauses again and sighs gently. - Me farver died of T.B. three yers ago, Etty informs suddenly as if his image had just come up before her and she wanted to mention him before he was gone again. Left me mum and five sisters and me. It made me fink, wot if mum gets it and we're left awfans. But it was me that got it and 'ere I am stuck 'ere miles from 'ome. Etty pulls a face and releases a deep sigh, which catches her chest, making her wince. - Steady, my dear, Nurse Bird says. So how old are your sisters? She enquires as they enter the woods, walking gingerly on the uneven ground. Etty muses silently for a few seconds. - Jane’s sixteen, she's after me; then there's Helen who's fourteen and the brains of the family; then there's Kathy who's twelve, followed by Elaine who’s nine and Joy who is a terror at seven. And me mum of course who tries to keep 'em under control and fed. Etty brakes off and stops. She breathes in slowly. A pain catches her and she folds. The nurse attends to her and after a few minutes Etty unfolds herself and places her right hand on the trunk of a tree. - Better get you back again, Florence Bird says gently. Etty nods her head and they turn round and walk back slowly the way they had come. Silence descends upon them. The wind alone whispers in their ears. Etty muses sadly of home and Florence thinks of those like Rose for whom the battle was over and turning her head stealthily, she glances at Etty beside her and wonders if she will be one of the chosen ones or join Rose and those like her in a silent grave. * Vera Limpstep, twenty-two, moves off of her bed and walks slowly to the balcony rail. Gripping the top rail she peers at the tall trees opposite. - Peace in our time, so Chamberlain reckons, she mutters to no one in particular. The breeze from across the way flicks her light brown hair across her shoulders. Her hands tightened on the rail as she muses on her words. Her knuckles turn white as her grip tightens. - ‘ope he's right, says twenty-eight year old Edith Wishop from a bed on Vera's right. My Joe finks we'll be at war in a year or so. - As if we ain't got enough to worry about, Etty moans as she sits up in her bed, which is on Vera's left. She puts her hands round her knees and lays her chin on them. Vera shakes her head. Edith sniffs a couple of times. Me Mum finks we should stay out of any war with 'itler, Etty adds, lifting her head and gazing at Vera's grey dressing gown which reminds of one her mum use to have. - Seems Chamberlain thinks the same, Vera says with a deep sigh. - Me young sisters might aft to go away from London if war does come, Etty says, lifting her eyes to Vera's hair which flaps over her shoulders now and again as the breeze catches it and lifts it with invisible fingers. - Lots of children will be evacuated from the big cities if war does come, Vera states leaning forward over the rail. She catches a glimpse of Nurse Bird down in the grounds below and waves. Florrie’s a girl isn't she, she says to everyone in general. - Keeps me sane, that's for sure, Edith says moving onto her left side and scratching her right thigh vigorously. - Me too, Etty adds. She eases herself off her bed and joins Vera at the rail. They stand peering down at the nurse as she moves along the path that leads to the entrance. Politicians start wars, but it’s the ordinary people who aft to fight 'em, Etty says suddenly as if the words had just landed on her lips from a place unknown and without her permission or understanding. - Ain’t that always the way, Edith moans. She gets out of bed and moves to join the other two women by the rail. They all peer down at the disappearing nurse. For a minute they stare at the vacant space. - Red lips... are not so red... as the stained stones... kissed by the English dead, Vera mutters slowly audibly to herself, but loud enough for the other two women to hear. - That sounds cheerful, I must say, says Edith, giving Vera a sideward glance. The structure of Vera's profile seeming almost noble. - Poetry, Vera replies. Wilfred Owen. He was a war poet from the Great War. She looks at her companions each one in turn. - Bloomin’ cheerful bloke weren't he; Etty says trying to think of a poem herself but fails to remember any she'd been taught at school. - Poetry sums up our feeling about things which prose sometimes fails to put across, Vera states seriously with a distant look in her eyes. Can’t you girls remember any poetry? - There was a young lady from Bath who took off her drawers for a larf, her 'usband said, May, you'll get pregnant that way, but she only wanted the draft...Or somefink like that, says Edith which starts her off coughing and laughing simultaneously. Vera snorts with laughter until she thinks she's wet herself and Etty splutters until she too coughs and laughs at the same time. - Blooming fool, Edith, nearly put me in me box before me time, Etty informs after they had ceased laughing. - Got to larf ain't yer, Edith says wiping spittle from her mouth. - Better than crying that's for sure, Vera says with tears in her eyes. She wipes her eyes with her right hand and feels the dampness against her cheek.The three women fall into a silence as they stand looking about them. Vera stares at the sky and thinks of her fiancé, Ambrose Alden who has a jazz band with whom hopes to sing again. Edith thinks of her husband Joe and her son five year old Billy whom she'd not seen for months. Etty thinks of Rose and wishes she was there standing beside them musing at the midday sun. Should we pose? Etty thinks as she and Edith Wishop stand on the grass just away from the sanatorium. Edith who is shorter holds her hands across her stomach with an unsure expression on her face. Etty attempts a smile but it hovers about her lips timidly. Should we pose? she muses taking hold of Edith's right arm. What if Edith or I don't make it through? But it's too late the photographer, a nurse, whom Edith asked to take a picture, clicks the camera and all is captured. The nurse moves away after returning Edith's camera. Edith gazes at it as if it might explode. Etty breathes in hesitantly and coughs and it echoes around their ears in the late afternoon air. * - You’re not eating like yer should, Edith informs Etty as they lean on the balcony rail after supper. - Don’t get hungry, Etty replies in defence. She stares in to the darkening sky and watches the black shadows of the oak trees swaying in the breeze like huge ebony giants in a crazed dance. - Helps build your strength up, Vera states from her bed behind the two women at the rail. You need building up; you're like a little sparrow. - And you're like me muvver, Etty replies gripping the rail tighter. She’s always on about me being fin. - You are bloomin' fin, girl, Edith says giving Etty a smile. I’ve seen more meat on a friggin butcher's knife. - It’s the way I'm built, Etty returns, throwing back her head in a pose. Anyway I'm 'appy the way I am. She returns to stare at the dark sky about them. - None of us would make a good Rubens model, Vera says sitting with her cheek against her knees wishing it was Ambrose beside her. - Who’s this Rubens bloke, then? Edith asks. I didn't know yer did modelling Vera? Vera shakes her head and gazes at Edith by the balcony. - I don't. He was an artist who painted plumpish women, Vera informs with a mild sigh. It was Ambrose who'd told her about Rubens and thinking about it now she senses a tightening about her chest. Edith inhales cautiously and wonders if Joe and Billy are all right and if Billy eats properly. Etty feels the breeze against her arms and sees only a faint outline of the trees opposite and muses on Rose and imagines she can hear her voice carried on the late evening air. * Why Edith snores and Vera cries in her sleep Etty doesn't know, but it keeps her awake as midnight approaches. She puts her hand over her ears in a futile gesture to keep out the sounds, but it doesn't work. Lifting her head from her pillow, she looks over at Edith who lies on her back with her mouth wide open like a fish out of water. She wishes she could move Edith on to her side and close the gaping mouth and silence the noise; instead she closes her eyes and thinks of home. Wonder how Mum's coping? she asks herself as she turns over on to her back and pulls the blanket up to her chin. Fancy Jane changing her job again, she muses, smiling at an inner image of her sister. Jane don't take no nonsense, Etty muses almost breaking into a momentarily fit of giggles. She's a nervous wreck though, Etty tells herself trying to remember Jane as she last saw her. Vera does it every night, cries in her sleep. Etty interrupted from her musing, looks over to where Vera lies, tut-tuts to herself and wonders what it is that makes Vera weep in her sleep. Looking at Vera hunched like a child on her bed, Etty remembers Rose and the dreams she had for her future. All gorn now, Etty says to herself, like a candle blown out. And Vera's cries saddens her deeper and she gets out of bed and walks over to the balcony. An immense dark sky faces her all around, dotted here and there with small clumps of stars. The chill air bites into her arms and she rubs them absent-mindedly as if it didn't matter against the vast unfolding of life about her. - Ain't you the lucky one, Rose, she utters to the skies as if Rose were out in the dark somewhere listening and looking down. No more corfing up blood fer you no more. And her words drift on the air and float off into the darkness like over eager messengers. * Nurse Florence Bird looks about her as she enters the balcony. The women are all asleep except Etty leaning on the rail peering into the dark. She coughs gently and Etty turns. - Can’t you sleep? Nurse Bird asks, walking slowly to the rail. - What wiv one cryin' and the ovver snorin' ain't much chance, Etty replies looking at each of the beds in turn and shaking her head. - That hasn't stopped you sleeping before now. The nurse leans on the rail beside Etty and stares into the blackness. Are you thinking about Rose? Faint images of trees move ahead of her. Etty doesn't reply straight away, but looks up at the stars for a few moments. - At least she's out ov it, Etty says in a heavy whisper. - Do you think she's glad of it? Nurse Bird asks. - Don’t know, Etty replies. I would be, she adds after a few moments reflecting on the stars. - Would you really? The nurse looks sideward at the young woman. Do you think that all the nursing staff and doctors are wasting their time trying to cure you and make you well again? Etty shakes her head and grips the rail tightly. - Living ain't an easy option. Dying would be easier, she says softly. - Rose fought to live, Nurse Bird says. The fact that she failed doesn't deny the fact that she fought hard to be alive. She places her right hand on Etty's left arm. Silence descends and both women stare into the darkness as if each were deciding their next words. But none came. The nurse turns and walks back the way she had come and disappears along the inner ward. Etty shakes her head slowly and sniffs the chill air. She coughs and moves away from the rail towards her bed. Snuggling down beneath the blankets, she wishes Rose had fought a little harder and then perhaps the night would not be so dark and empty.
Copyright © 2000 Terry Collett |