The Furies (12 page)

She took Elspeth on a tour of the hotel suites, introducing her to the night orderlies on the way round. As they walked between the beds, Elspeth was quizzed on how she would have managed the wounded soldiers' injuries; Louisa seemed satisfied with her answers. Although most of the men they passed were asleep, one or two were awake. Elspeth could tell from their expressions that they were clearly in awe of Louisa.

‘Some of the injuries are horrendous. It's quite shocking how brutal men can be towards each other. We've had to trephine skulls for bullets, explore open lung wounds, fix and plaster shattered compound fractures – actually the severely fractured thighs are the heaviest work as it can take the best part of an hour and four of our VADs to dress them. And of course there are a lot of abdominal and chest wounds. Come and look at this.'

They stopped beside the bed of a pale-faced young soldier, a red rubber tube from his chest draining into a bottle by the side of his bed, half-filled with bubbling bloodstained fluid. He coughed and flinched but still made the effort to smile as they arrived at his side.

‘Breathing any easier, Corporal?' Louisa asked.

‘Thanking you, ma'am,' he replied in a soft welsh lilt. ‘It's definitely easier now that tube's in place.'

She nodded. ‘Good. We'll need to allow the lung time to re-expand. The bullet took a big chunk out of your pleura, so it might take a few days for the hole to seal. Are you sore?'

‘A little, ma'am, and I feel like pukin' all the time.'

‘That's the ether – does it to some people. It'll wash out in the next few hours.'

‘Alright, ma'am,' he replied. ‘Thank you again.'

They left the room and started back towards the operating room.

‘It's challenging work and long hours,' Louisa said as they went, ‘but a unique experience and fantastic opportunity to do some good, which is so rewarding. Personally I don't mind the hard work and feel refreshed by the complete change of life. Plus after years of unpopularity over the suffrage, it's exhilarating to be on top of the wave, helped and approved by everyone – except the English War Office.'

Elspeth laughed. ‘Yes, Dr Inglis had difficulties with the War Office, too. They were not impressed at her proposal for a Scottish Women's Hospital.'

At the mention of Dr Inglis, Louisa pursed her lips. ‘Ah yes, dear Elsie.' She briefly looked down at the WSPU brooch pinned to her blouse. ‘She and Flora used to be good friends when they worked together in Edinburgh. But I know that Dr Inglis is not a keen supporter of the Pankhursts.' She looked at Elspeth in a curious way. ‘You, I gather, have a different view on this issue?'

Elspeth tensed. ‘Well, yes. I was…well, still am actually…a member of the WSPU.' She eyed the brooch before continuing. ‘Not everybody agrees with some of their tactics, so I don't like to advertise my involvement until I know people's feelings.'

They had arrived outside the operating theatre again, but Louisa led Elspeth past it to another door. She pushed it open and silently signalled for Elspeth to follow her in. They were alone inside a large store cupboard full of linen sheets and wool blankets. Louisa lowered her voice.

‘Actually, Elspeth, I already knew you were a WSPU member. And I suspect you know as much about my past.' Elspeth hesitated, but then nodded as Louisa continued.

‘I have many contacts within the WSPU and had you checked out very thoroughly.' She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘And from what I've heard, and from what you are reported to have done' – she paused and Elspeth held her breath – ‘well, let me just say that Flora and I are extremely pleased that an individual with the courage to execute such a deed has agreed to work alongside us.'

Elspeth gave a sigh of relief as Louisa continued.

‘I know there are some – like Dr Inglis – who denigrate what the WSPU has done to further the cause of women's suffrage. But I am a firm believer that ‘Deeds not Words' is the best credo for the advancement of our cause. In the past I undertook deeds that were viewed as criminal and was caught and punished. You, clever girl, were not caught. I don't regret my past deeds, and I don't think you should regret yours either: they were our only options at that time. I still believe in deeds not words, but the war has given us the opportunity to do
good
deeds, as we are here. It is still suffrage work, but in another form.'

‘Thank you for that, Louisa,' Elspeth said with a mixture of pride and relief.

‘Nobody apart from Flora and I know about this, and we won't discuss it with anybody else or bring it up again. Anyway, we'd better get back. You can help with the last case, let Flora get back to being a physician again.'

***

‘Dr Stewart, please come quickly. Private Dalgliesh is having another seizure.'

Elspeth grimaced; I hope Flora returns quickly, she thought as she followed the VAD along the corridor and into the room where the young soldier was being nursed.

Six weeks had passed since Elspeth had arrived at Claridges, and in that time she had fully immersed herself in the work of the hospital, assisting Louisa in theatre and operating on a wide range of injuries: trephining holes in skulls, amputating limbs, debriding wounds, opening chests and abdomens, removing bullets and shrapnel, lancing abscesses, evacuating haematomas, stitching ears and noses and lips. The surgical work was much as she had imagined, but tetanus was not something she had seen before. Private Dalgliesh, a likeable Scotsman who seemed to be recovering from his wounds, had unexpectedly developed the fits and spasms of full-blown tetanus yesterday evening.

As Elspeth entered the room she saw his body arched on the bed, bent like a bow between his heels and the back of his head, his face drawn back into a ghastly grin with his teeth exposed. There was nothing she could do, and she and Rosemary waited until the convulsion passed and the young soldier fell back to the bed, pouring sweat, panting. He looked exhausted, but Elspeth could see that some of his muscles were still twitching: another seizure was only a few minutes away. Elspeth could see that the convulsions were lasting longer and he would not be able to cope with this for much longer.

They had already given the man all the anti-tetanus serum they had in the hospital – only fifteen hundred units – but the seizures had continued. However Elspeth knew of an experimental treatment: she remembered attending a teaching round at St Mary's where much higher doses of anti-tetanus serum injected directly into the spinal canal of a tetanus sufferer had saved the patient. She had told Flora about the case that morning, and Flora had immediately gone over to the British Military Hospital at Versailles to see if the Royal Army Medical Corps could give them more serum.

As Elspeth watched the exhausted soldier's spasms finally stop, the door to the room suddenly flew open and Sylvia appeared, wheeling a small procedure trolley in front of her. ‘Dr Murray's just got back,' she said. ‘She's got the serum and asked me to prepare for an immediate lumbar puncture.'

Before Elspeth could reply, Flora Murray entered the room holding a small canvas bag, a large smile on her face. ‘They gave me ten bottles, Elspeth, each holding fifty thousand units,' she said breathlessly.

‘Half a million units? Elspeth said, amazed.

Yes, isn't it wonderful? And apparently they've heard many good things about us. Did you know our survival rates are the highest of all the hospitals caring for British troops?' She opened the bag and removed a glass vial. ‘Can you do the LP, Elspeth? I'll draw up the serum.'

Helped by Sylvia and Rosemary, Elspeth manoeuvred the young man into the foetal position. He did not resist their manhandling and appeared moribund, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly ajar. ‘You'll feel a wee jag in the lower back,' Elspeth told the young man, but he gave no sign of awareness as she inserted the spinal needle through the skin between two of his lower backbones. She felt the pop as the needle entered the dural space: removing the end cap from the needle Elspeth was rewarded with several drops of glistening spinal fluid.

‘You made that look easy,' Flora said, as she knelt next to Elspeth and connected the syringe to the end of the needle.

‘He's a skinny wee thing, so it wasn't difficult,' Elspeth replied.

‘You're too modest,' Flora said with a smile as she injected the contents of the syringe, and then pulled the needle out while Sylvia applied pressure over the puncture site. She stood up and looked down at Elspeth. ‘Well, all we can do now is wait and see if it works.'

The following evening, after returning from an expedition to collect some casualties, Elspeth was pleased to hear that he'd had no further seizures. It was at the end of a busy day: she and Sylvia had accompanied Louisa by motor ambulance to Braisne, a small town only a few miles behind the fighting line. They had received a telegram that morning from the medical officer at the casualty clearing station asking if they could take some of the more seriously wounded back to Paris, and Henri had driven them there, a distance of nearly a hundred miles over roads cut up by the traffic of war.

The drive gave them the opportunity to witness at first hand the effects of the fighting: dead horses lying in the fields, bellies bloated, legs pointing in the air like a small child's crude cartoon of death; shell-splintered trees – stripped of bark and foliage – tilted at awkward angles from the effects of artillery fire; rows of abandoned houses, piles of rubble in the street, stray dogs sniffing amongst the debris for scraps of food. It was a terrible yet fascinating sight. They passed through this devastated landscape and eventually arrived in Braisne, where they found the wounded lying inside a church with no water or heating, the noise of nearby fighting rattling the stained-glass windows above their heads. They managed to find space in the ambulance for four of the more serious cases and then had to hurry back to Paris as the gates were rigidly closed for the eight o'clock curfew, passports and permits being of no use after that hour.

They arrived back just in time, and after helping unload the wounded and admitting them to the wards, Elspeth, Sylvia and Louisa retired to the mess kitchen for a late supper of cocoa and buttered toast.

‘I don't think any other unit could have done better than we did today,' Louisa said with a satisfied smile. ‘Our team performed superbly. And Flora says that Private Dalgliesh is doing very well, thanks to your suggestion.'

‘Good teamwork is a result of good leadership,' Elspeth said.

‘That's kind of you to say,' Louisa answered, ‘but actually I think it's because women work better together than men. They're less competitive with each other and more willing to co-operate. I desperately wish the whole organisation for the care of the wounded – their transport, the disposition of base and field hospitals, their clothing and feeding – could be put into the hands of women. It is not military work, merely a matter of organisation, of common sense and attention to detail. Women could do it so much better than it is currently done.'

This is real suffrage work, Elspeth thought.

***

Eventually the fighting moved further away from Paris and the number of wounded men arriving at the hospital began to diminish. By the end of October, there was even a rumour that the French president and his government might soon return to the capital. There were now periods during the day when little was happening on the wards, and Elspeth and Sylvia were encouraged to go out and enjoy the sights of Paris. Louisa and Flora led by example, taking a daily walk together to explore the narrow rues and alleyways of this part of the city. So one evening in early November, with the capital looking particularly beautiful on a moonlit night, Elspeth and Sylvia decided to go for a stroll.

It was an enchanting night. The streets in their quarter of the city were still deserted – most of the good houses in the area were still empty and shuttered – and the moon, suspended in the sky, bathed the cobblestones in a buttery light. For the first time since they had arrived in Paris, the magic of the city was revealed, and searchlights on the roof of the Madeleine and Eiffel Tower swept across the skyline to show the city in its true splendour. With the characteristic Paris architecture as a backdrop, Elspeth and Sylvia strolled contentedly across the cobbles and along the bank of the Seine, past the Grand Palais and the Chambre des Deputes.

At first they saw no other pedestrians, but as they walked past one of the bridges straddling the river, from a distance Elspeth spotted a couple silhouetted in the moonlight, standing close together as they leant over the parapet to peer at the water below. The affection between the pair was unmistakable as they stood with heads inclined towards each other, and as she walked past the entrance to the bridge Elspeth smiled at this typically tender Parisian scene.

She had already walked on a little further, before she suddenly realised that Sylvia was no longer at her side, but had instead stopped at the bridge entrance to stare at the pair of lovers. Elspeth saw a curious expression on Sylvia's face; when she turned to look more closely at the couple on the bridge, she was startled to realise that she was looking at Louisa and Flora.

It was apparent that the couple did not know they had been seen: they slowly leant back and then – hands entwined – ambled to the far side of the bridge. Having witnessed this intimacy, Elspeth felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

Sylvia arrived at her side. ‘Did you not realise?' she asked Elspeth, an amused look on her face. Elspeth's blush became deeper; how could she have not known this?

‘Well…I knew they were close, but…'

Sylvia's eyes glinted like emeralds in the moonlight as she shook her head and laughed. ‘Dear, Ellie: for someone so intelligent, sometimes you do amaze me.'

Elspeth gave a wry smile. ‘Well that sort of thing doesn't much happen on the Isle of Skye.'