1. Just One Damned Thing After Another (8 page)

I looked around. The shabby old chateau had either been disused for some time or was in very bad condition to begin with. Many windows were boarded over. Plaster and rendering were falling away. Tiles were missing from the roof. I couldn’t help feeling it might fall down long before it burned down. We’d never been so deliberately in harm’s way before. My heart raced in exactly the way it had for my first jump. Just when I thought I was getting the hang of things they threw something like this at us. But every jump is different; every jump has its own set of problems and every jump has its own set of terrors.

There was cold, wet mud everywhere. Too many people; too many vehicles; too many horses; too much rain. They’d laid planks down but they were already slowly disappearing into the ooze.

Over by the gates I could see a number of tents of varying sizes and purposes and people scurrying everywhere. Everyone seemed busy; everyone seemed to know what they were doing, and everyone seemed to have a purpose. Well, so did we and we’d better get started.

We climbed into our uniforms and got stuck in. Sussman had been whisked away almost immediately. He was billeted separately as well. I often saw him in the distance, or waving as he disappeared round a corner, but he was wise enough to be discreet. This was the beginning of the 20th century and girls then were still nice young things.

Kal and I slept in a tiny room in the attic. We didn’t like being away from the pod, but all female staff were bed-checked each night by a Senior Sister, so we had no choice. It was cold, damp, and never saw the sun. We shared a bed and there weren’t enough covers. We couldn’t bring anything from the pod to make ourselves more comfortable in case we had to leave in a hurry. And with such hardship in the trenches, it didn’t seem right, somehow.

I don’t know where Sussman was. A group of orderlies slept above the stables so he may have been with them, in which case, we were much better off than him. It was cold when we arrived and it got colder. And wetter.

The casualties poured in from the Regimental Aid Posts. Matron sent me to work in the Reception Tent, assisting with sorting and prioritising. I was good at it and it freed up a senior nurse. I hated it. I’m not God. But, sometimes you can see death in a face and there’s nothing you can do except move on to the ones who can be saved. And from the Reception Tent I could direct men to the Resuscitation Tent where they could get warm and maybe get transfused. Most I sent to Pre-op to be prepped for surgery. The Operation Tent was the biggest. Kal was in there somewhere. From there, patients were moved to the wards in the main building before being transferred to a bigger hospital away from the lines.

Men came in on stretchers, carried by Sussman’s mates; orderlies whom I can never praise highly enough. Some walked in. I checked everyone’s labels and directed them accordingly. If I was lucky, I saw Sussman himself at least once a night and even if we only had time to exchange a glance, it was better than nothing.

The days dragged by. We were into the second week of October now. It rained a lot. Heavy rain meant heavy mud. And there were still all those young men coming in through the gates. Limping, or being stretchered, their faces blurred with pain. Limbs reduced to bloody stumps. Some poor mother’s son, having been yanked off the wire, screaming and trying to hold his guts in. One lad lay quietly with a gentle smile on his face and, when I looked more closely, half his head was gone.

As the deadline grew closer, Kal and I took turns to keep watch in our room at night. One of us slept while the other wound bandages or tried to read. We never undressed, partly so we would be ready, but mostly because it was too bloody cold to take our clothes off. The days were ticking by and we had to be ready. One of my many memories is of watching my breath frost in the cold night air as I wound yards of bandage by the light of a tiny flickering candle on the floor, with a precious blanket pinned over the window to keep the light in and the cold out.

We arranged to meet Sussman at least once a day to reassure each other. We kept in regular contact and tried to be aware of each other’s positions at all times. I kept looking around me. This might not be here tomorrow
.
I imagined the whine of the shell, the crump of the explosion – and then what?

I came round a corner from the linen rooms and ran slap into someone. He lifted the top layer of blankets I was carrying and said, ‘Hi, it’s me!’

I looked round, but no one was in sight. ‘Hey, how are you?’

‘I’m cold. You must be perished. How are you holding up?’

I was touched. He wasn’t usually so thoughtful. ‘I’m OK. Not much longer now.’

‘No. Tonight, tomorrow, or the day after. Any thoughts?’

‘No, none. In fact, I think there’s a bit of a lull. The weather’s so awful that everything seems to have stopped for a while.’

‘Well, don’t relax. It could happen at any time. Look, I have to go. If we get through the night I’ll see you and Kal tomorrow, just outside here. By the latrines. We’ll have a catch-up and plan what to do next.’

‘By the latrines!’

‘It’s the romance in my soul. See you.’

By great good luck, we were all able to get away and meet the next day. Sussman was there already, waiting for us. I could see our pod in the distance, over by the stables, anonymous under bits of rusting metal and carefully placed pieces of old wood. We stood out of the rain and discussed what to do next.

‘It’s got to be tonight or tomorrow, said Kal. ‘Sussman, are you working tonight?’

‘Not if this weather continues, no.’

‘Stay sharp. Max, the Reception Tent is the furthest from the pod. At the first sign of anything out of the ordinary, go straight back to the pod and get the cameras activated. Stay out of trouble. You too, Sussman. We’re here to investigate. There’s no way I’m going back without knowing what happens here and we can’t do that if we’re dead. Is that clearly understood?’

We nodded.

‘I mean it. Any sign of heroics and I’ll kick your arses from here to Dr Bairstow’s office, pausing only to pick up your P45s on the way. Is
that
clearly understood?’

We nodded again. I shivered under my cape and pulled it more closely around me.

Around the corner, a whistle sounded and voices were raised. Engines turned over, coughing in the damp. ‘That’s me,’ said Sussman. ‘Bugger, I was supposed to stock up with extra blankets.’ He looked over his shoulder and then back at me. ‘Max, could you …?’

‘Sure, you go on and I’ll bring them to you. How many?’

‘Three should do it. Thanks a lot. Gotta go.’ And he was gone, slipping in the mud in his haste.

‘I must go too,’ said Kal. ‘I’ll meet you after your shift finishes. I think we should stick together as much as possible now.’

‘Right. See you then.’

She disappeared and I re-entered the building. I hurried along the corridor to the linen rooms, ignoring the first two doors. Blankets were stored in Number Three. I reached for the door handle and pulled open a heavy, old-fashioned door made of solid wood. That it opened outwards was the only thing that saved me. I just had time to register the hot door handle before I was blown backwards and sideways and the door came down on top of me.

I lay stunned and only slowly became aware of flames licking around the doorframe. The roaring I thought was in my own head turned out to be the fireball in the linen room. It was hot. I had to get up. Wriggling out from under the door took some effort, but I managed it.

Flames ran along the ceiling above me. I couldn’t see a thing for the smoke. The whole corridor was filled with it, billowing out from the linen room. If the fire ripped through the hospital this quickly then this would be a major catastrophe. But that’s exactly what it was. It was a major catastrophe. Suddenly, without any warning, this was it. 

Chapter Five

I tried to pull myself together. There would be extensive loss of life. There wasn’t anything I could do. There wasn’t anything I should do. Well, sod that for a game of soldiers. Maybe I wasn’t very important in the scheme of things, but there’s always something you can do.

Pulling my cape up over my head, I hitched up my skirt and crawled down the corridor, keeping low to avoid the smoke. If I could get to the door … A hand bell hung beside every door precisely for this purpose. I knew I’d arrived at the door when I banged my head on it. I took a deep, difficult breath and groped my way up the door frame. Got it!

I opened the door carefully, burning my hand again on the hot handle, ignored the increasing roar behind me, and slipped through.

Rubbing my eyes, no one was in sight. It was midday and there wasn’t a soul anywhere. I took as deep a breath as I could manage, sucked in a great lungful of wonderful, cold, wet air, coughed a little, spat a lot, and croaked ‘Fire! Fire! Fire!’ Bent nearly double and bracing one hand on my knee, I rang the hand bell as loudly as I could.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then, around me, doors crashed open and people ran in all directions. Men rushed to hoses, stirrup-pumps, and buckets. Huge red-orange flames began to engulf the old buildings faster than anyone would have believed possible; and the rain, which might just for once have done some good, stopped and the sun came out, bathing the whole tragedy in warm October sunshine.

It was chaos. People ran past me in all directions. Whistles sounded, shouts rang out and over all the noise, a hand-cranked siren hindered more than it helped.

I didn’t know what to do. Men ran with buckets. No one thought to form a chain. Water slopped everywhere. People slipped in the mud and fell and those behind tripped over them. I saw three orderlies trying to pull out a fire wagon, but there weren’t enough of them to shift it through the mud. They shouted for help but no one heard. People flew out of doors into the courtyard but once there had no idea where to go. Or if they did, they’d forgotten in their panic.

I saw terrified faces at the windows; hands beating at the glass panes. Some windows opened. Men hung out, calling for help. Some tried to lower themselves and lost their grip, falling heavily to the ground. Some jumped and didn’t get up. And then, above it all, the high note of a bugle cut through the racket. Heads turned. A young major, I think from the Glosters, raised his voice.

‘To the main gates. Get the wounded to the main gates. Get away from the buildings. The walls are coming down. Go to the main gates.’

A number of NCOs emerged and physically pushed people in the right direction. I saw a blind man, barefoot in the mud, wearing only pyjamas. His face was badly burned and his dressing had come away and trailed on his shoulder. He staggered around, arms outstretched, shouting for help. Never mind the big picture. I was a little person. Help the other little people.

I stepped forward and took his hand, saying quietly, ‘Now then, soldier, you just come with me.’ I put his hand on my shoulder and we fought our way along. At least, now most people were going in the same direction. I found another young lad, on his knees, trying to get up. I reached out a hand. ‘Come on, lad, up you get. Can you walk?’

‘A little,’ he replied, teeth chattering. ‘Not very fast.’

So that was three of us and we found another one on the way, bent double and coughing up a lung. We carefully picked our way towards the main drive and a mud-covered ambulance drew up. One of Sussman’s mates jumped down. ‘Get them in the back, miss. Quick as you can.’

We yanked open the doors and willing hands pulled them in. ‘You too, miss,’ he shouted.

‘No,’ I yelled back. ‘Get this lot to the main gates. I’ll go back for any stragglers.’

‘You don’t want to do that, miss. That whole section’s going to come down.’

‘I must,’ I said, desperately. Our pod was there. I had to get back. ‘Go! Get these men to safety and come back for more.’ I turned and ran back before he could argue.

It was like a scene from Dante’s Inferno. The courtyard was full of smoke, from which ghostly figures appeared and disappeared like ghosts. I could see orange and red flickers as the flames rose higher. The shouting seemed more purposeful now. Two columns of men filed out towards the gates. Many were being carried in makeshift stretchers or slung over shoulders. The initial panic was over. People were helping each other.

The young major was still directing the evacuation. I ran to him and said, ‘Sir, there’s at least one ambulance on its way here. They can take the most seriously wounded if we can get them all together.’

He nodded. ‘Stand here, nurse. You can be our collection point.’ He ran off, gesturing to two sergeants nearby. In hardly any time at all, I had half a dozen men gathered around me, sitting or lying in the mud and more on their way. A sergeant came back and handed me a whistle.

‘Keep blowing, miss. Let them know where you are.’ I blew and blew, turning all the time. They brought up another man, but he was already dead. We left him. Eventually, the ambulance came back. We were loading people on board when the major turned up again. He clambered in after the last man and turned to me reaching out his hand. ‘On board, nurse, and that’s an order.’

I couldn’t go with him and if I ran back into the courtyard he’d come after me, so I said, ‘Yes, sir. I’ll go in front with the driver,’ and slammed the doors on him. I slapped the side and it disappeared into the murk.

The two sides of the building were well ablaze now and even I could see the east wall was going to come down any minute. The heat hurt my face. It was like an oven. Terrible noises came from the third side of the courtyard, the stables over which Sussman lived. There was no chance of getting the horses out, none at all. They screamed in fear and panic and I could hear them kicking against their partitions in their desperation to get out. The building was almost engulfed in flames. There was nothing I could do. I turned and ran.

I knew someone was in the pod, because the scrap had been kicked aside, exposing the door. I picked up my skirts and really ran for it, months of physical training paying off at last. I heard a shout behind me. Thank God, it was Kal. Her hair hung down; she was bleeding from a nasty scalp wound, and smeared black with smoke and soot. I reached out, took her hand and we ran to the pod together. Sussman had the door open, ready. We fell, gasping, into the pod and as we did, I saw the east wall sway, lean impossibly, and then come down with a crash and a great shower of sparks and burning debris. The door closed, shutting out the roaring flames, screaming horses, and the sound of people burning alive.

And then there was silence.

Sussman was white-faced. ‘Max? Max, my God, I can’t believe it. I thought you were dead. Why aren’t you dead?’ I shook my head and he passed me some water. ‘I heard it started in the linen rooms and I knew that’s where you were. I can’t believe you got out alive.’

‘Hey,’ said Kal sourly. ‘I’m alive too.’ I gave her the water and she took a good slug.

For a long time we watched it on the screen. Sussman had all the cameras working. These films, together with our own personal records were our reason for being here.

Slowly, Kal got up. ‘Come on, Max, on your feet. Let’s have a look at you.’

‘I’m fine,’ I said, because that’s what you always say, even if your head’s just fallen off, but clambered to my feet.

‘Sussman, get the med kit. So, what hurts the most?’

‘Well, the door fell on my head so I think I’ve got a bit of an egg. I swallowed my own body weight in smoke and my chest hurts a bit and I’ve burnt my hands. Otherwise it’s only a broken fingernail and loss of appetite.’

She sprayed my hands with medical plastic, to cool and protect the burns and I slapped a quick dressing on her forehead. ‘There, that should hold us for a while.’ We both turned to look at Sussman sitting at the console and monitoring the cameras.

I said, ‘How about you? What’s the damage?’

He’d split the screen to show all four cameras and was watching closely. ‘What? Oh, I’m fine, thanks. No problems here.’

Kal looked him up and down. ‘You’re not hurt at all? How’s that, then?’

‘What?’ He dragged his eyes from the screen.

‘You’re awfully clean, given the state of Max and me. How did you manage that?’

‘I was with the other drivers when the alarm sounded. We were dispatched to our vehicles to evacuate the tents. I waited until no one was looking and then got back to the pod. I kept an eye out for you two on the way, but missed you, obviously. So I cleared the door and got inside. The cameras had activated automatically, so I made sure they’d got the best angles and waited for you two.’

He became aware of the silence. ‘As per your instructions.’ The silence lengthened.

‘What?’ he said, defensively. ‘You said, “No heroics. I’ll kick your arses,” etc. So I came straight to the pod as instructed by my mission controller, that’s you Miss Black, and got on with our mission, which is to investigate and record.’

He was being over-defensive and belligerent. Behind Kal, I made ‘Shut up, Shut up’ signs to him, but he couldn’t or wouldn’t see them. He finished with, ‘So what’s your problem, then?’

She took a long step forward and seized his wrist. ‘Look at these hands. Did you even stop to pick up anyone out of the mud? Did you just step over them? Or did you actually knock them down in your mad dash to safety?’

The problem was that he’d done too little and he knew it. He was angry and guilty and defensive and it brought out his worst side. She’d done too much and she knew it – we’d both done too much and she was angry and guilty and defensive as well. They stood glaring at each other. I decided to risk life and limb and stepped between them.

‘Guys! Not now. Davey, go and check the disks are recording OK. No, now please.’

He stepped back and muttered something and that did it. She strode forward and pushed his shoulder. ‘What did you say?’

‘He didn’t say anything,’ I said, physically getting between them again. ‘He’s upset. We both are. It’s our first big assignment. It’s certainly the first time I’ve seen anyone die, and it’s possibly his as well and the noise from the horses didn’t help.’

It didn’t work at all. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, that’s a point. From what you said when we got here, you thought your partner was dead. Good to know you’re sitting here safely when you think she’s burned to death in an explosion; especially since you sent her there in the first place. You really are a total waste of fucking space, Sussman.’

That really did it. There was no going back now. Something ugly flashed briefly in his eyes and he squared up to her, right in her face. She held his gaze. It was a very long moment and then his eyes slipped sideways to mine and guilt was written all over his face. He pulled himself together.

Ignoring Kal, he turned to me and said, shakily, ‘Max, I apologise. I never thought for one moment you could still be alive. If I’d thought there was the slightest chance I’d have torn the building down myself to get to you. I’m really sorry.’

My own heart was thumping away, but I nodded at him and turned aside. He misread my action. ‘No, Max. Really, I’m sorry. Don’t look like that. It’s not true. Don’t listen to her.’

I nodded again, still not looking at him. Kal said in a quiet voice, ‘Let it go, Sussman.’ There was a nasty little silence. I wondered if all assignments ended like this.

Sussman took a long breath. ‘Let’s get back.’

Kal drew herself up again. ‘Stand away from those controls, mister. I call the shots here. You see to your partner.’

And indeed, I suddenly felt extremely wobbly. I opened my mouth to say, ‘I really don’t feel so good,’ and instead threw up violently all down his front. He was covered in it.

There was another silence and then Kal grinned wickedly and said, ‘Not so clean now, are you?’ We all laughed. Not good laughter, but we chose to interpret it that way and everyone’s face was saved. We shut things down and jumped back.

We landed with the gentlest bump. Sussman opened the door and left immediately after decon and without a backward glance.

It was at that moment that I realised just why St Mary’s was always banging on about interaction.
You are not there to interact. Observe, document, and record. Don’t get involved
. It wasn’t only the dangers of inadvertently changing history, but the emotional toll as well. How many people had died today? Matron? The blind boy? My job was to watch events unfold. To record and document. To observe. To stand apart. Not to interfere.

I thought about this and came to the same conclusion that every good historian should reach. Then I thought about it a bit more and came to the other conclusion that every historian not only reaches but implements. You don’t walk away from blind men struggling in the mud. You should, but you don’t. Well, Kal hadn’t and neither had I. Nor Kevin Grant. But Sussman had. Did that make him a better or worse historian than me? Or a better or worse person?

Yes, there was an emotional price to pay for interaction, but was it greater or lesser than doing nothing? And what about a vengeful History, always on the lookout for naughty historians?

Fortunately, Kal interrupted my thoughts. ‘We ought to be making a start,’ she said.

I sighed. It would be nice to sit here for ever. I loved this bit between two worlds. The cares of the past behind us and not yet in the present long enough to get into any real trouble. No sooner were her words spoken then there was gentle tap at the door.

‘It’s Farrell. Are you OK in there?’

‘Yes,’ shouted Kal in her best ‘Bugger off’ voice and after a long pause it opened and Farrell and Dieter, stood in the doorway.

‘Don’t come in,’ said Kal.

They looked at us.

‘It’s not personal,’ I said. ‘We smell a bit.’

Dieter stepped forward.

‘Didn’t you hear?’ said Kal angrily.

‘If it’s your smell, it’s not a problem.’ He picked up her bag. She glared at him but he only smiled. Did he not know how close to death he was? Mind, he was built like a large brick shithouse. Two large brick shithouses actually. In fact he was so big it was possible he distorted time and space. He had his own gravitational pull, like a blond planet, and he’d fallen for Kal like a sperm whale failing to clear the Grand Canyon on a bicycle. He thought no one knew. He slung her bag over his shoulder and helped her to her feet. ‘Come on.’