Primrose Square (26 page)

‘I don't mind how hard I work,' Brenda confided to Elinor. ‘I'm just so happy, you see.'

At Elinor's dubious look, she smiled and nodded.

‘I know what you're thinking, that I must be worrying, too. Well of course I am, but somehow I just feel that Tam will come through. He's not the sort to let things get to him and whatever happens to him, I believe he'll survive.'

‘I can see how you might feel that, but I'm so superstitious, I'd never dare to talk about it.'

‘You, superstitious? Elinor, I don't believe it. Such a sensible girl, you couldn't be.'

‘I never used to be. Always walked under ladders, never threw salt over my shoulder, but since the war, I've become  . . . well, more afraid, I suppose.'

‘For your brother?' Brenda gave Elinor's shoulder a sympathetic pat. ‘He'll be all right, I'm sure. Anyway, he's still in England, isn't he?'

‘No, in France. We just heard.'

‘Oh, well, Tam's been all right in Gallipoli and France so far, and so has Stephen Muirhead. Didn't you see him at the wedding, Elinor? Come through without a scratch! Some lead charmed lives, eh? And I'm hoping Tam'll be the same.'

‘Me, too,' Elinor said, moving on to her next duty.

One thing that still gave her pleasure, of course, was her beloved Primrose Square garden, and so far no one had objected to her sliding in without a patient whenever she had a break. Who would care, really? It wasn't as though there were club members around these days, and the doctors and senior nurses had too much to do to spend time keeping watch on her.

It was one lunchtime in late September, when she had let herself into the gardens again, that she was able to see two familiar faces looking in through the railings.

‘Ada! Mattie!' she cried, running to open the gate she'd locked. ‘Oh, how nice to see you!'

Dear, plump Ada and cheerful young Mattie were almost squeaking with excitement as they all embraced one another, and then stood back to take stock.

‘My, Elinor, you're looking well,' Ada remarked. ‘What I'd give for your waistline! Bet you can see from mine there's a babby on the way?'

‘You're expecting?' cried Elinor. ‘Why, Ada, that's wonderful! And so are you looking well – and Mattie.'

‘Canna think why I'm looking well,' Mattie sighed. ‘This is my afternoon off, but working at that munitions factory's no joke, I can tell you. Money's good, but I sometimes think I'll just get wed. Did you know I was engaged, Elinor? Aye, to a fellow who works at the factory. He's got terrible asthma, poor laddie, so they'll no' take him in the army, which suits me, eh?'

‘And Bob's out of it and all,' Ada said with satisfaction. ‘Got what they call a Blighty one. You know, a wound that's no' so bad but you have to go home with it. He's lost two fingers on his right hand, so canna fire a gun, and has to do light duties at the depot. Cross about it, too, but I say, for God's sake, be grateful, now you'll see the babby!'

‘Vera and Gerda – they all right?' asked Elinor. ‘And do you ever hear about wee Sal?'

‘Och, they're all fine,' said Mattie. ‘Vera's walking out with somebody, and Gerda's got promotion – always the bright one, eh? And Sal's doing well, cooking at that hotel, snibs to Mrs P, eh? But nobody sees her.' She gave Elinor a quick, keen look. ‘But how are you, Elinor? You happy working at the Primrose?'

‘Yes, very happy. My dad died recently, so I'm doing what I can for Ma, seeing as Corrie's away in France, as well.' Elinor smiled. ‘And before you ask, no, I'm no' married or engaged or walking out. Just working.'

‘Fancy, and you were always our beauty, eh? Still are, and that's a fact. Somebody'll be along soon.'

‘I'm all right as I am. Look, I wish I could ask you two in for a cup of tea, but I'm just on dinner hour and I'll have to go back. Did you just want to come up and look at the old place?'

‘Aye, we sometimes meet in Princes Street,' Ada told her, ‘and I says to Mattie, let's go and look at the Primrose, eh? But we never thought to see you, Elinor, and in the gardens, too. Do they give you a key now, then?'

‘Ssh, only supposed to be when I bring patients.' Elinor hugged both girls again. ‘Look, can we all meet some time? I get an afternoon off, too.'

‘We'll drop you a card,' said Ada. ‘It'd be grand to meet up. Talk about the old days when we all worked here.'

‘Seem like a dream,' put in Mattie. ‘Think it'll ever be a club again, Elinor?'

‘When the war's over, why not? I sometimes get a postcard from Miss Ainslie. She's sure it'll re-open one day.'

‘And then she'll start marching for the suffragettes again,' laughed Ada. ‘Elinor, we'll hope to see you soon, eh?'

‘Aye, and take care – of that babby, too. Bye, Mattie – don't let 'em work you too hard.'

‘Bye, Elinor. All the best.'

They waved to one another before Ada and Mattie turned back towards Princes Street and Elinor ran into the Primrose, pleasantly cheered by the meeting with old colleagues. But then she halted, for Brenda was running across the hall, her face so changed that Elinor turned pale.

‘Brenda, what is it, what is it?'

‘Mother brought a letter round – it was from Tam's commanding officer – he's been wounded, Elinor – at the Battle of Loos – he's coming home to hospital here.'

‘Wounded? But he's all right?' Elinor was holding Brenda tightly. ‘He must be, if he's able to come home.'

‘Yes, but there are no details. The officer didn't give any.' Brenda's eyes were searching Elinor's face. ‘Why do you think he didn't? Because Tam's very bad?'

‘No, no, I'm sure it's just the way they do things. You'll be told everything at the hospital. Which one is it?'

‘It's in Craigleith, but he won't be there yet. I've phoned and they say they'll let me know when he arrives, but it'll be a few days yet.' Brenda wound her hands together, her eyes spilling tears. ‘Elinor, I don't know what to do. Sister Penny says I should go home, come back later, but what can I do at home? Mother's so upset, it will be so terrible – waiting  . . .'

‘Why no' stay here, then?' Elinor asked gently. ‘You're needed here, it might be best.'

‘Stay here? Yes, I think you're right. It'll fill the hours, won't it? To work?'

‘It will; always does. Come on, let's see what's to be done.'

As they moved away together, a QA came towards them, her black regulation shoes tapping noisily on the uncarpeted floor.

‘Quick, could one of you run up to Corporal MacAdie on the top floor? He's spilled his lunch again, all over his bed. Hands shaking like a ninety-year-old, poor fellow.'

‘I'll go,' said Brenda, hurrying to the stairs, while the QA, glancing at Elinor, shook her head.

‘Brave, lassie, eh? We've just heard about her Tam – hope he pulls through.'

‘He will; he's got great spirit.'

‘Need more than spirit to survive the Battle of Loos, from what I've heard. Och, if they'd just put the women in charge, this war'd be over tomorrow!'

‘In charge?' Elinor smiled grimly. ‘They don't even give us the vote.'

Forty-Nine

It was several days before Tam arrived back in Scotland, during which time news filtered through that the Battle of Loos had been one of the worst for British casualties. So many regiments had been involved, so many men, that Elinor and Hessie, thinking of Corrie, were terrified to read the casualty lists. Even when they didn't find his name, they still couldn't be sure he was all right, for many of the dead, it was said, could never be identified. Thank God, a message came at last to say he was safe, which meant Elinor only had to worry about Stephen. And Tam.

Poor Brenda, away to the hospital to be with him – everyone at the Primrose was thinking of her, the happy bride who had so soon become the anxious wife. But at least Tam was alive, and home. That must be good news.

‘Just as long as they haven't kept anything from me,' Brenda whispered to Elinor before she left for the hospital. ‘I have this awful feeling that something is wrong, something has happened that's worse than a wound.'

‘No, no, you mustn't think like that. They'll never give details till they see you, and Tam will be all right, I'm sure of it.'

But of course, Elinor wasn't sure of it, which was why the time seemed so long while Brenda was away, for the worry over what she might find was all too real. It seemed as though she would never return, and it was only when Elinor was due to go home and standing on the steps with her coat on that she saw her, coming round the square.

‘Brenda, thank heavens!' Elinor hurried to greet her. ‘Oh, how is he? How's Tam? Come in and tell us.'

‘No, I can't.' Brenda's face was very pale, her blue eyes quite dark. ‘I can't come in just yet, Elinor. No, don't ask me. Look, will you come with me to the café? We can talk there.'

As she read the messages Brenda's face was sending, Elinor's heart sank. There had been bad news at the hospital; nothing else could have made Brenda look as she did. But she agreed at once to go with her to the café, where they ordered tea, but nothing to eat, and when it came, Elinor pressed Brenda's cold hand.

‘Tell me what's wrong, tell me about Tam.'

Brenda raised her tragic gaze to Elinor's face.

‘He's scarcely wounded at all,' she whispered. ‘But he's shell-shocked. He can't speak.'

Shell-shocked? Unable to speak? Tam, who had never been known to be lost for a word in his life? Even the thought of it hit Elinor like a blow and for a moment her head almost swam – but then Brenda's devastated face above the teacups brought a reminder of who was really suffering, and she leaned forward.

‘What did they say, Brenda? Tell me exactly what they said.'

After a few moments of hesitation, Brenda, in a low, strained voice, began.

‘As soon as I got to the hospital, a nurse took me to an office where an army doctor was waiting. He said he wanted to talk to me before I saw my husband, to explain what had happened.'

With a long sigh, Brenda took off her hat and ran her hand across her brow.

‘He told me I must be prepared to find Tam very different from usual, very subdued and not able to talk, but I wasn't to worry, it would pass in time, and when I asked how he'd been wounded, he said Tam had been very lucky. He'd been blown some distance by a mortar bomb, but he'd only had some concussion and minor injuries.'

Brenda stared into her teacup.

‘Would you say it was lucky, not to be able to speak?'

‘Well, I suppose he just meant he was lucky to survive,' Elinor answered uneasily. ‘To be blown up – anything could've happened.'

‘Yes, well, then the doctor told me about the shell shock. He called it a neurasthenic problem, and when I told him I worked at the Primrose and knew about that sort of thing, he seemed relieved. He told me again not to worry and that there was a good chance that Tam would recover quite quickly, as many did. Which is not exactly true, is it?'

‘We see recoveries all the time at the Primrose, Brenda.'

‘Some recoveries, but not many quick ones. Anyway, the doctor said that Tam might be moved from Craigleith. It was converted from the old Poor House in 1914, you know, only as a hospital for the wounded.'

‘Not for the shell-shocked, then?'

‘Well, seems they see how people progress. If they don't recover quickly, they probably  . . . move on.'

Perhaps to the Primrose? Elinor wondered, but Brenda didn't suggest it.

‘Did they let you see Tam, then?' she asked, after a pause.

‘Oh, yes. Took me to his ward. One of those long ones, very clean and tidy. Most of the patients were in bed, but one or two were sitting in chairs. They had blue flannel suits.'

‘And Tam? What about Tam?'

‘At first, I didn't recognize him. He was in a corner bed, just lying still. They'd cut off some of his hair where there'd been a gash, and that was bandaged. His hands were bandaged, too. When the doctor took me up to him, he looked up and I think he recognized me – there was a look in his eyes – but when he tried to say my name, nothing came.'

Tears were glistening in Brenda's eyes, as she looked up into Elinor's face. ‘Oh, it was so awful, Elinor. He was so pale, like a ghost, and he seemed so  . . . lost. I felt like bursting into tears, but I didn't. I held his hand and the doctor said he'd leave us – a nurse would tell me when to go.'

‘Poor Brenda, poor girl, you're being so brave.'

‘I don't feel brave at all. You know who the brave ones are.' Brenda sighed and slowly put on her hat. ‘When I was leaving, the doctor said again that Tam might have to be moved to a specialist unit. Possibly the Primrose, which would be convenient for me. I didn't tell him that the Primrose is the last place I want Tam to go.'

‘The last place?' Elinor stared. ‘But why? I think it would be ideal.'

‘Oh, no, Elinor, no. I couldn't bear to see him there. With all those poor chaps we nurse? Oh, I couldn't, I couldn't!'

‘I don't understand. He can get better at the Primrose, and you'll be there with him. What's wrong with that?'

‘So many blank, dead faces,' Brenda muttered. ‘No, I don't want him there, and I won't be there myself, anyway. I'm going to give up my job and look after him, that's all I want to do.'

Dabbing at her eyes, Brenda gazed at Elinor with a sudden spark of interest.

‘Listen, do you think there's any chance that I could get him into a private nursing home somewhere? I've a bit of money in savings  . . .'

‘Brenda, Tam's still in the army. They'd never let him go to a private hospital. As soon as he's better, he'll have to go before a medical board to decide what happens next.' Elinor sighed. ‘And wherever he goes, the patients will be the same, so he might as well be in a place you know.'