The Beekeeper's War, page 2
‘Stop dawdling, girls,’ Matron snapped. ‘This room should be ready by now.’ At that moment, the door opened again and a hospital bed was brought in by two porters. Pru knew they had been footmen before the war. ‘Place the bed near to that window.’
Matron believed that fresh air helped cure many ailments.
Having finished helping with the pictures, Pru walked over to Matron. ‘Shall I fetch the bedlinen and pillows now, Matron?’
‘Yes.’ She waved Milly over to her. ‘You can bring in a tray with the carafe and a glass for the patient, then fetch two chairs for visitors.’
Pru heard her instructing the porters to bring a screen for the room, although she wasn’t sure why as the room was to be for single use only.
‘I want a desk and chair for nursing staff placed in that corner,’ Matron instructed.
‘I wonder who the patient can be?’ Milly whispered as she and Pru hurried down the corridor. ‘He must be someone special to have a room all to himself.’
‘Hmm,’ Pru replied thoughtfully. ‘Or he’s more badly injured than the others and needs to be kept by himself.’ She wasn’t sure that was the best way for a patient to be treated. Surely, she mused, being alone with no other company or distractions to take a patient’s mind off their situation couldn’t be a healthy choice.
‘I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,’ Milly said, stopping in front of the linen cupboard that was the size of one of the smaller rooms at Pru’s parents’ guesthouse. ‘Whoever he is will be arriving in about a quarter of an hour.’
‘You’re right. We’d better get our skates on if we don’t want Matron giving us the third degree.’
They were used to coming across Lord and Lady Ashbury around the manor house and sometimes when they visited the wards, but something felt different about their behaviour today, although Pru couldn’t pinpoint what it might be. When the room was almost ready, Pru and one other nurse were instructed to go and wait with Matron by the front door while Milly and another finished up. Pru stood at the large arched doorway and watched Jean waiting to lead the porters outside when the private ambulance arrived.
Pru was becoming restless. She had been on her feet since dawn and was desperate for a few minutes’ respite and to be able to take off her sensible shoes. As the welcoming committee stood silently, she heard the distinctive sound of an engine coming down the driveway and saw Lord Ashbury take his wife’s hand in his own and whisper something to her. The usually self-contained woman appeared tense, her expression taut with contained emotion as she stood silently staring out towards the parking area. It occurred to Pru that the reason their host and hostess were acting differently today might be because whoever was being brought to the manor was someone close to them. This time it was personal.
She withheld a gasp. Could this arrival be Viscount Montgomery Ashbury – the Ashburys’ youngest son?
The motor ambulance slowed and stopped.
‘Nurse Le Riche,’ Matron said, not needing to give further orders for Jean to do her bidding.
Pru watched her friend calmly lead the porters outside and then glanced sideways at Lord and Lady Ashbury, wondering why they didn’t hurry out to meet the ambulance. She realised that it was probably because they didn’t want to be seen acting in any way that might be construed as lacking in self-control. She thought of her parents, also rigid in their ways, but believed that if this was her younger brother coming home injured, then both would be outside ahead of Jean, determined to be with him as soon as they possibly could.
Jean gave Pru a brief wide-eyed glance from where she stood next to the ambulance and Pru could see that she had been right and the patient must be Viscount Ashbury. Jean was always calm and Pru realised it was why Matron had instructed her to be the one to go out to greet the ambulance. Carrying the patient on a stretcher, the porters stopped in front of Lord and Lady Ashbury.
The top half of the man’s head was bandaged with only his nose, mouth and chin showing, and Pru’s breath caught as she witnessed Lady Ashbury’s anguish, as she took her only surviving son’s hand in her free one, the other still clasped by her husband’s grip. Pru wasn’t sure which of the two of them was finding their son’s homecoming more difficult.
‘Welcome home, Montgomery,’ Lady Ashbury said, bending to kiss his bandaged forehead. ‘We’re so happy to have you back with us.’
‘Thank you, Mother,’ he said, his voice croaky. ‘I wish I could see your face, but I can picture it well enough.’
He sounded friendly, Pru thought, wondering if he knew how many people were standing nearby in the hallway. His father cleared his throat and stepped closer to his son’s stretcher. ‘Good to have you back, my boy. We’ve set up a room for you. Matron Goodall and her excellent nursing staff will give you the best of care.’
‘Why am I having a separate room?’
It was a genuine question from their son and without a hint of aggression. Pru waited for them to reply, swapping concerned glances with Milly and Jean. Neither of them dared move as they waited for Lord Ashbury to reply.
Lord Ashbury gave Matron a pointed look, clearly expecting her to explain.
‘Master Montgomery, I’m Matron Goodall. Lord and Lady Ashbury thought that as Ashbury Manor is your home you might be more comfortable in a room by yourself so as to not to be disturbed by other patients. One of the downstairs rooms, a private sitting room, has been adapted into a small ward so that you will be as comfortable as possible during your recovery.’
‘That’s very kind of you all,’ Montgomery said, ‘but that won’t do.’
It was a simple reply, Pru thought, but one with as much determination as she had ever heard. Montgomery Ashbury wasn’t a man to be dictated to, she realised, unsure how he had found life in the forces.
Lady Ashbury winced. ‘Darling Monty. It’s for your own good. Once you’ve had a chance to settle in and rest after your tiring journey, I’m certain you’ll agree with us.’
‘Dearest Mother, I appreciate your sentiment, really I do,’ he said, his voice gentle and filled with love. ‘However, I really would much rather convalesce with other men than in a room by myself.’ His mouth was set hard. ‘I need the company of others right now. Please try to understand.’
Pru’s heart ached for the poor man returning to his childhood home in such a reduced state. She waited nervously as Matron looked to his parents for their decision on what she should do next.
Lord and Lady Ashbury looked at one another and without speaking seemed to come to a mutual decision. Finally, Lady Ashbury spoke. ‘If that’s what will make you happy, Monty, darling, then that’s what we’ll do.’ She addressed Matron with a forced smile. ‘I’m sorry, Matron. Please do as my son asks and arrange for him to be taken to one of the wards.’ She withdrew her hand from her husband’s grasp and rested it on her son’s shoulder. ‘I’ll come and speak with you properly once you’re settled in.’
‘Thank you, Mother.’
Lord and Lady Ashbury walked away. No doubt, Pru thought, with conflicting emotions: happy to be reunited with their son, yet sad to see him in such a bad way.
‘Nurses Denton and Le Cuirot. Hurry ahead and arrange for a bed to be made up in Ward Two.’
‘Yes, Matron,’ they chorused.
‘Nurse Le Riche, go and fetch Doctor Parslow. Explain to him that we’ll be taking the patient to the private ward until a bed has been made up for him and that he can make his initial examination there.’
‘Yes, Matron.’
‘What if there isn’t a free bed?’ Milly asked frantically as they walked quickly to Ward Two. ‘What will we do then?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Pru was glad the poor man’s parents had relented. He had more than enough to contend with without being left alone with his thoughts and memories of what he had experienced in the trenches.
Pru followed Milly into the ward and stopped next to her, both scanning the room. ‘Phew, there’s a free bed over in that corner.’ Pru sighed with relief. ‘I’d forgotten that younger soldier had been taken to another convalescent home nearer to his family to be taught how to walk with a false leg.’
The bed had been stripped but not yet made up with fresh bedding. ‘I’ll go and fetch some linen. You’d better fill the carafe and bring over a screen for when Lord and Lady Ashbury come to see their son.’
‘Good idea.’
The following morning, Pru spoke to the new arrival for the first time as she gave him a bed bath. She introduced herself and liked him instinctively. He didn’t act at all as she had expected he might, being the son of a lord and lady. He seemed no different to most of the other patients despite his clipped voice and unmistakeably upper-class air.
‘It must be a relief to be back home, I suppose?’ she said, carefully wiping his chin and neck dry.
‘It is,’ he agreed, although he seemed a little hesitant. ‘I wish I could see what they’ve done with the place now that the larger rooms are taken up by men like me.’
She hoped he would be able to soon. ‘Do you know which room we’re currently in?’ she asked, squeezing out the excess water from the sponge she was using to wash his left arm.
‘I’m not sure. Will you describe it to me?’
She stopped what she was doing and studied the area around them. ‘There’s panelling on the walls, and’ – she looked over at the enormous fireplace on the opposite side of the room – ‘there’s a huge fireplace with a pale stone surround that’s been carved with…’ She tried to see what exactly it was to tell him. ‘Um, I think they’re lions facing each other, one either side of a crest?’
He smiled knowingly. ‘Yes, that’s right. In that case, we’re in the Great Hall. I should have recognised the sound of people’s feet on the tiled floor, now I come to think of it.’
Pru looked down at the squares of white marble with smaller black marble squares at each corner. ‘The Great Hall,’ she repeated in awe. She dried his arm and placed it gently on top of the sheet. She had never been in any other great halls and tried to imagine what happened in this room before the war. ‘What was it used for before the war?’ she asked, rinsing the sponge in the cooling water and wringing it out. As Pru waited for him to reminisce, she walked around the bed to his other side and began washing his other arm.
She wasn’t sure if he had heard her, or if he was even still awake. When their eyes were bandaged, it was difficult sometimes to know how much the patient was paying attention to you.
‘Balls were held in here,’ he said eventually, a half-smile on his face as if lost in a happy memory. ‘We always held a big party on New Year’s Eve in here too each year. And…’ He raised his clean arm and pointed over to the opposite side of the room. ‘If I’m right about where I am in this room, over there is where a large Norway Spruce would be erected each Christmas. Father always enjoys being shown the tree that old man Stephens, his head gardener, cuts down for him each year. He’s in his eighties and retired now and his son has taken over the role of head gardener to the estate, but it’s a family tradition that old man Stephens chooses the manor’s Christmas tree.’
Pru loved the thought that the old man was still valued by the family. She looked over at the corner on one side of the fireplace and tried to picture a decorated tree with presents neatly displayed underneath it. ‘I’ll bet it was magical,’ she said dreamily.
‘It was, Nurse Le Cuirot. And who knows, maybe after this interminable war comes to an end my parents might decide to throw another party. I’ll make sure you receive an invitation.’
‘Really? You’d invite me?’
‘Yes. You and all the brilliant nursing staff and porters, and the patients who have spent time here.’
‘I would love that,’ she admitted.
‘Nurse Le Cuirot!’ Matron snapped from somewhere behind her.
Pru hadn’t heard her coming into the ward and dropped the sponge in shock at the sound of the older woman’s harsh voice. She bent to retrieve it from the sheet before it got damp. ‘Sorry, Matron. Did you want me?’
‘Why are you still washing this patient, Nurse? You should be onto the next one by now.’
Pru pulled an apologetic face. ‘I’m sorry, Matron. I was—’
‘You were talking. Now, do stop dawdling and get a move on.’
‘Yes, Matron.’ She focused on washing Monty’s chest while listening out for Matron’s retreating footsteps. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said, quietly. ‘I should be concentrating.’
‘Nonsense,’ Monty said. ‘I’ve enjoyed your company. I was chatting to Nurse Le Riche earlier. She said she was from Jersey, hence the French-sounding name. I was wondering if you might also be from there?’
‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘We’re old schoolfriends. We left the island together and were very excited to both be sent here to work.’
‘I haven’t been to Jersey since I was much younger. I think I’ll have to make a point of visiting there once this is all over and done with.’
‘You should, it’s very beautiful with its golden sandy beaches and pretty lanes.’
‘Do you miss it much?’
She nodded then remembered he couldn’t see her. ‘I do. But it’s very beautiful here at the manor, and I’m enjoying my walks here when I’m off duty.’
‘That’s good to know.’
As Pru finished washing Monty she couldn’t help thinking that one day he would be lord of Ashbury Manor. She felt certain the place and its staff would be in very good hands.
Three
Pru
February 1917
Two weeks later, Pru was pushing a trolley away from the final patient whose dressings she needed to change when she collided with something solid.
‘Oof.’ She winced as the metal bar handle slammed into her hipbones and the bottles on the top tray rattled noisily. Please don’t let them break, she thought, too tired to have to clear up a mess of glass and medicines.
‘I’m dreadfully sorry, Nurse.’ The person grabbed the trolley to stop it from falling on its side. ‘I beg your pardon. I should have been looking where I was going.’
She ignored the deep voice and the accent she couldn’t place as she focused on composing herself. You’re not wrong there, she thought, fighting to keep from snapping at him. Finally composed, Pru looked upwards and into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. They were dark navy and the most piercing colour, she decided. Her breath caught in her throat and her mind went blank. She willed herself to speak. Then noticed the wing insignia on the left side of a khaki tunic. ‘You’re in the Royal Flying Corps?’ she asked, for something to say. She had heard that some pilots came from places overseas and presumed this man must be one of them.
‘I am,’ he said, an unmissable note of pride in his voice.
She noticed a haunted look in his eyes as he stared down at her and she couldn’t help wondering how many friends he must have lost in recent months.
Her right hipbone ached, reminding her that she had been annoyed with his clumsiness barging into her trolley with such force. She focused on his bravery, aware that pilots’ lives tended to be short. She hated to think that this handsome man was putting his life at risk each time he flew his plane and she had no wish to be unkind to someone who was risking his life for her countryfolk. ‘Might I ask what you’re doing out here?’
He removed his cap and held it between both hands. ‘I’ve come to visit one of my men.’
Pru was aware that Matron was dogged in her refusal to bend visiting times. ‘I’m sorry but visitors aren’t allowed into the wards for another’ – she glanced up at the wall clock – ‘three and a quarter hours.’
He muttered something she couldn’t hear and seemed frustrated by this news.
‘I’m sorry, but I have work I must be getting on with,’ Pru said, not wishing to be caught chatting to someone who wasn’t a patient while Matron was on duty. ‘You’ll be able to see him during the set visiting hours.’
He lowered his voice. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to come back later,’ he said. ‘Please, Nurse. I only wish to see him briefly. I need to see for myself that he’s all right. Is that possible, do you think?’
Pru couldn’t miss the concern in his eyes and wished she could help him but knew without asking that Matron would refuse. She shook her head, sorry for the pilot but unable to do anything about it. ‘I’m sorry, but the doctor is doing his rounds. Visitors are not allowed to pop in willy nilly.’
His fair eyebrows pulled together in a frown. He seemed angry and she wished she could be more helpful. His eyes narrowed slightly and then the corners of his lips raised and drew back into a smile. ‘Willy nilly? What does that mean?’
Realising he was amused by what she had said, Pru’s cheeks flamed and any sympathy for him vanished. ‘Are you mocking me?’ Her previous irritation with him returned instantly.
His eyes widened and he reached out to rest his hand on her shoulder. Pru stepped backwards before he touched her. ‘You’re to leave. Now.’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean to make fun of you, but I’ve never heard that expression before.’
She heard Matron’s distinctive footsteps striding along a nearby ward and had no intention of being caught talking to him only to be reprimanded when she had done nothing to warrant it. ‘You’re going to have to leave,’ she insisted. ‘Immediately.’
His shoulders drooped slightly. ‘I am sorry.’
‘Now, sir.’
He gave her a nod and turned to walk away the way he had come, his long legs making short work of the distance between her and the door. It occurred to her that she hadn’t thought to ask which friend he wanted to see and if she could have passed on a message to him. Pru felt mean. She wasn’t usually so taken aback by a man but somehow this one got right under her skin in a way that no other had ever done before.
