Far From Home (34 page)

‘I see.’ Polly looked down at her hands, which were tightly gripped on her lap. ‘But what if the infection doesn’t clear? How can I be certain that I won’t lose him too?’ The tears dripped on to her hands and spotted the pristine starched apron.

‘Oh, my dear,’ sighed Matron. ‘You have far too many burdens to bear without fearing the worst for your husband. He’s in excellent hands, you know. And I wouldn’t lie to you about his recovery.’

Polly stared at her through her tears. ‘I didn’t mean … I’m sorry, but …’

‘I know.’ Matron reached into her navy blue sleeve and pulled out a very white handkerchief which she offered to Polly. ‘You’re tired and grieving, and worrying about your husband. I’ve seen many things in my career, and yet I couldn’t begin to understand what you must be going through.’

Matron’s unexpected kindness and soft sympathy just made things worse, and Polly found she couldn’t stop crying. She buried her face in Matron’s handkerchief which smelled strongly of rose water, and released all the pent-up tears she’d been storing throughout the night.

She was aware of Matron leaving the room and heard her return a short while later, but still she couldn’t stop the flow of tears. There was the rattle of china, the clink of a spoon, and the sweet aroma of cocoa drifting towards her.

‘There’s nothing like a cup of cocoa, is there?’ said Matron calmly. ‘I find it soothes better than anything else. Dry your eyes, dear, and take a sip. It’s very good, and I’ve made sure there’s plenty of sugar in it.’

Polly’s tears finally ebbed, and she blew her nose and scrubbed her face with her hands. Her eyes felt swollen and sore, her throat hurt, and she was absolutely exhausted. ‘I’m sorry, Matron. I didn’t mean to carry on so.’

‘Drink your cocoa before it gets cold,’ she replied unperturbed, as she sat opposite Polly and daintily raised her cup to her lips.

Polly took several sips of the sweet, milky drink, and discovered she felt a little better. ‘Thank you, Matron,’ she murmured when the cup was almost empty and she was feeling partially restored. ‘You’ve been very kind.’

‘I know I have a reputation in the hospital for being a bit of a dragon,’ she replied, carefully putting down her cup and saucer. ‘And it is not wholly unjustified, for I have high standards and a firm belief in efficiency and discipline. But regardless of all that, I really do care about my nurses.’ She held Polly’s gaze. ‘Which is why I’m asking you to take some time off.’

‘But …’

Matron raised her hand. ‘Hear me out, Staff Nurse,’ she admonished softly. ‘I haven’t finished.’ She eyed Polly across the desk, her expression understanding. ‘You must have time to grieve,’ she said, ‘and a hospital ward is not the place to do it. I know you want to keep busy so you don’t have to dwell on your losses, but I cannot put my patients in jeopardy, or my staff under further pressure. You made some forgivable mistakes tonight, but tomorrow it might be more serious.’

‘I was tired, that’s all,’ Polly protested.

‘I know,’ said Matron on a sigh. ‘We’re all tired, but you have extra burdens on your narrow shoulders, and if you continue this way you will make yourself ill.’

Polly stared at her in misery. ‘But I can’t sit about doing nothing,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll go mad.’

‘Then find other things to occupy yourself,’ said Matron. ‘I understand you’re billeted in a boarding house along with four other members of my staff, and I’m sure Mrs Reilly would appreciate help around the house with so many of you to feed and look after. And what about bracing walks? We have some magnificent countryside surrounding us – get out there and take a look for yourself, breathe in the good fresh air and blow away the cobwebs. And if none of these things help, then go and do a bit of voluntary work for the Red Cross or the WVS, or any one of the other charities who are so desperate for another pair of willing hands.’

‘How long must I be away from my work?’ Polly asked fearfully.

Matron pulled a sheaf of forms from her desk drawer and began to rapidly fill one in. ‘I am signing you off for a month.’

‘A month?’ Polly gasped. ‘But I can’t …’

‘You will do as you are told, Staff Nurse. I don’t want you back here until you have come to terms with what has happened.’

‘I doubt I’ll ever come to terms with it,’ Polly said flatly. ‘How can I possibly accept what’s happened to my child – to my whole family?’

‘I know it seems impossible now, but in time it
will
hurt less.’ Matron gave a deep sigh as she sat back in her chair. ‘Grieving is a long, drawn-out process and cannot be hurried. You are tearful and in pain now, your thoughts filled with those you’ve lost. I suspect you also feel guilty?’

Polly nodded, unable to speak.

‘You’re not alone in that, my dear. Those that are left behind always blame themselves for not being there, for not saying the words they should have said – for still being alive. And then the anger comes, raging at the unfairness of it, at the terrible waste of life, and it is only when that has lost its power that you can accept what has happened and begin to heal. And you will heal, Polly, I promise you. It’s just that it takes time.’

‘I know,’ said Polly, trying desperately not to break down again. ‘But it’s all too raw at the moment and with Adam so ill, I … I …’

‘Would it help if I gave you special dispensation to visit Adam more frequently?’

‘Yes, oh, yes please.’

Matron smiled. ‘I know you’ve been going to see him out of visiting time but I decided to say nothing until now, and you can be assured that Sister Morley has not been admonished for breaking the rules.’

Polly could feel her face redden, and didn’t dare meet Matron’s gaze.

The older woman chuckled. ‘Nothing much gets past me, Staff Nurse, as others before you have discovered.’ She cleared her throat. ‘It would be easier all round if I arranged for you to visit for half an hour each morning, as well as the normal hour in the evenings, and if that proves conducive to Adam’s recovery, perhaps I can arrange another half-hour in the early afternoon.’

Polly regarded her with growing respect. Dragon she might be, but under that fiery exterior beat a heart of gold – a warm, caring heart that understood Polly’s needs. ‘That would be wonderful,’ she breathed. ‘Thank you so much, Matron.’

Matron waved away her thanks. ‘Go home and get some sleep. No doubt our paths will cross when you’re visiting, but I don’t expect to see you on duty again until the end of October. Is that understood?’

Polly nodded and stood up. ‘Thank you again, Matron.’

Matron dismissed her with a wave of her hand, not bothering to look up from the form she was signing.

Polly left the office and quietly closed the door behind her. She didn’t see the tear that sparkled on Matron’s eyelashes before it was dashed away, and could never have guessed that Matron Billings knew all about grief and that, now and again, she was haunted by the memory of the young man she’d been engaged to, who’d never come home from the Somme.

Once Polly had fetched her things from the sluice, she hurried down to Adam’s ward. It was almost seven-thirty, and she wanted to catch Mary before she went off duty, for despite the age gap, they had become firm friends, and she wanted to share her happy news.

‘Matron said it was all right,’ she assured Mary, who was preparing to leave. ‘In fact, she said I could visit every morning from now on.’

Mary smiled. ‘I know. She came to see me earlier. I thought I was for it, but the old dragon was quite nice for once and didn’t bat an eyelid.’

‘How is he?’

‘He’s still got a temperature, but it’s going down steadily, and his breathing is a bit easier. He’s young and far stronger than he looks, and he will come through this, Polly. Really, he will.’

Polly dredged up a weary smile. ‘Is it all right if I just go and have a look at him?’

Mary nodded. ‘I’ll wait for you outside,’ she said. ‘I could do with some fresh air and a cigarette, and we could go and have a cup of tea at the café now it opens so early.’

‘That sounds nice,’ Polly said before heading for Adam’s bedside. He was sleeping, but his colour wasn’t so hectic, and he was no longer struggling to breathe, which was a good sign. ‘I’ll be back tonight, my love,’ she murmured against his cheek. ‘Sleep well, my darling.’

‘Pol?’ His eyelids fluttered open.

She gripped his hand. ‘Yes, darling? I’m here.’

‘Are you all right, Pol?’ he muttered sleepily. ‘You look as if you’ve been crying.’

‘I had a run-in with one of the other nurses,’ she lied swiftly. ‘A bit of a spat over nothing really, but I’ve been on duty all night and am desperate for sleep. And you know me, I can cry at the drop of a hat when I’m tired.’

He frowned as he regarded her. ‘Are you sure that’s all it is, Pol? You’re not worried about me, are you?’

‘Of course not,’ she said too quickly. ‘Well, perhaps a bit,’ she relented. ‘You have been very sick.’

‘I
am
going to get better though, aren’t I?’

‘Of course you are,’ she said firmly. ‘I have it on the highest authority. Mr Fortescue and Matron are convinced this infection is just a bit of a hiccup, and that you’ll soon be up and about and causing all sorts of trouble on the ward.’ She smiled and kissed his cheek, desperate to banish the true depth of her worry.

‘You smell nice,’ he murmured, his eyelids already fluttering with sleep. ‘Like roses.’

She held his hand as he went to sleep. Once she was sure he wouldn’t be disturbed by her moving away, she released his fingers and hurried off the ward.

It was blustery and cold outside, the dark clouds scudding across the sky and threatening rain. Polly quickly crossed the red straps of her woollen cloak over her chest and fastened them behind her waist, glad of its warmth. The wind tugged at her cap as she hurried outside, and she had to hold on to it fiercely.

Mary was standing on a patch of grass in the lee of the trees which, during better weather, had been a favourite place for the walking wounded to sit and play cards or read the newspapers. She took a final puff of her cigarette and crushed the stub under her shoe as Polly approached. ‘Come on. Let’s find that cup of tea.’

The Daisy Tea Room huddled in ancient splendour between an ironmonger’s and a chemist, its tiny, diamond-paned windows giving only a glimpse of the interior. Several centuries before it had been a fisherman’s cottage, and now the wattle and daub walls leant towards the pavement from beneath the sway-backed tiled roof, the network of black beams stark against the whitewash. It had become a firm favourite among the hospital staff, for it provided good strong tea and the occasional treat of cake or scones.

A bell tinkled as they pushed through the door and negotiated the three narrow steps that led down to the flagstone floor of the main body of the tea room. There were already several people taking advantage of the earlier opening and enjoying the warmth of the welcoming fire in the hearth as they sipped tea and gossiped beneath the sturdy beams that ran across the undulating ceiling.

The room was cosy and warm, each table covered with a cheerful gingham cloth which matched the cushion pads on the chairs and the curtains at the window. Polly breathed in the heavenly scent of fresh baking which drifted from the kitchen, and discovered that, despite her weariness, she was ravenously hungry.

‘Do you think they have scones?’ she asked Mary, who was examining the menu card wedged between the salt cellar and a tiny vase of wilting wild flowers. No one had seen pepper for months, and even salt was getting scarce.

‘We certainly do,’ said the cheerful, and rather rotund waitress who was swathed in a vast floral apron. ‘And there’s home-made strawberry jam to go with them.’

‘Then we’ll have one each and a pot of tea,’ said Polly. She leant back in her chair savouring the warmth coming from the blazing fire. ‘I could go to sleep right here,’ she murmured to Mary, ‘if I wasn’t so hungry.’

‘Me too, but it’s strange, the minute I leave the hospital, I seem to get my second wind.’ Mary grimaced as she glanced outside. ‘It’s probably something to do with the weather. It certainly blows the cobwebs away.’

Mary’s mention of cobwebs brought Polly’s thoughts back to her interview with Matron and, as they waited for the scones and tea to arrive, she told her friend all about it.

‘She was so unexpectedly kind,’ she murmured finally, ‘and I made an awful fool of myself by crying for ages. But she spoke a lot of sense, and I realise now that I can’t carry on as I was.’

‘I’ve heard rumours that she has a heart – but until today I never believed them.’ Mary reached across the table and patted Polly’s arm. ‘I’m glad you’ve decided to take her advice. I’ve been worried about you, you know.’

They waited while the waitress placed the plate of scones and the pot of tea on the table. When she’d gone back to the kitchen, Mary eyed the bountiful spread as she poured the tea. ‘I say,’ she breathed, ‘look – real tea, lovely and dark brown for a change. And there’s sugar too, and even a tiny pat of butter to go with the scones and jam. What a treat.’

Polly’s mouth was watering as she carefully smeared the precious butter on the two halves of scone and added a dab of strawberry jam. It tasted heavenly, and she and Mary said very little until the last crumb of scone and the final smear of butter and jam had been devoured.