The Silver Locket by Margaret James Read Free Book Online

you’ve joined us! You’ll be helping out on Kingston Ward. I understand you were a governess?’
    ‘Yes, that’s right,’ blushed Rose.
    ‘You’ll soon settle down. I’ll show you where to put your things, then you can help the orderlies serve breakfast. After the boys have eaten or been fed, we do the round. None of our chaps can wash without assistance, and some need everything to be done for them, so we’ll keep you busy.’
    The sister glanced at Rose’s feet. ‘Those boots look rather flimsy. If you can afford it, I should get yourself a stronger pair, with higher lacing to protect your ankles.’
    Rose put on her apron, cuffs and cap, jabbing hair pins awkwardly into her mass of thick, dark, curling hair. Then she left the safety of the locker room and walked into the ward.
    Orderlies were already serving breakfast and seemed pleased to see her, so now she went scurrying round the beds, carrying loaded trays.
    Private Benson told her that although he only had one arm, he could feed himself. But Corporal Keenan was still shaky, so she’d better help him with his bacon, or he’d get it everywhere.
    ‘Chop it up all nice an’ small for ’im,’ he said to Rose, then grinned. ‘I ’spect I’ll see you later, Sister – when they does the washing. You mind you come to me!’
    Rose was dreading this. She’d never seen a naked man. ‘You start this side,’ said a staff nurse crisply, pointing to the six beds on the left. ‘Don’t touch any of their dressings, mind – just top and tail them, and don’t forget to comb their hair.’
    ‘Do Private Bannerman first,’ added the sister, who was walking past. ‘But be very careful when you shave him, because he’s got a mole on his cheek. If you happen to catch it with the razor, it bleeds like anything.’
    Rose thought she’d cut and run.
    But then she squared her shoulders and told herself she hadn’t come all this way and tried so hard to fall at the first hurdle. She owed it to herself to see it through.
    ‘Private Bannerman?’ She poured out boiling water from a jug into a bowl. ‘Good morning, I’m Miss Courtenay, the new volunteer. I’m going to wash and shave you.’
    It can’t be very difficult she thought, as she stropped the razor clumsily. After all, men do it every day.
    Private Bannerman opened one dull eye. ‘Mind me mole,’ he said.
    ‘Miss Courtenay?’ As Rose wiped soap and blood from Private Bannerman’s butchered face, a nurse came up. ‘Goodness, you took ages with that shave! I need some help with Sergeant Fowler. It takes two to turn him and he’s got nasty pressure sores, so come along with me.’
    By the end of that first week, Rose thought she had died and gone to hell. She had constant backache, her hands were red and raw, she’d somehow hurt her shoulder, and although she did her best, the nurses criticised her all the time.
    She had to admit she was no good. Even laying breakfast trays was far beyond her skill. She could not remember which of the patients needed cups or beakers, who liked scrambled egg, who wanted fried tomatoes or who had just toast.
    ‘They’ll be sacking you,’ observed a sour-faced staff nurse, at the end of yet another awful, muddled and exhausting day. ‘Girls like you are nothing but a nuisance. Sister Fraser nearly had a fit when she saw how you’d put away the linen, up on Bentley Ward.’
    But Rose did not get sacked, for the wards were filling up with yet more wounded soldiers and she could see that even her haphazard help was needed desperately.
    By copying the others and secretly consulting a notebook she kept in her apron pocket, she somehow got through those first awful weeks.
    ‘You’re doin’ all right, Sister,’ Private Benson told her, as she combed his hair one Friday morning. ‘You ain’t so nervous now, an’ you got a lovely gentle touch, not like some people I could mention.’ He glanced towards the staff nurse who was constantly berating Rose. ‘Don’t