Wildflowers In The Ruins: A 1917 Story

Chapter Fourteen. Primroses

Saturday April 7th, 1917:

The warming scent wafted invitingly into my nostrils as I closed my eyes, absorbing it.
Shepherd's pie!
"For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful,"
smiled Sister Thompson serenely.
"Amen," we chorused together.
Oh, was I thankful!
Not just the food, which smelled delicious, but for Will, for being safe, for being alive, and for not being dismissed.
"Dig in," chortled Elsie, seated to my right. Not needing to be encouraged twice, I ladled myself a decent portion before spooning the same amount onto Elsie's plate for her.
We had bread and dripping too, but being mindful I'd barely eaten in twenty four hours, been sick and my stomach had perhaps shrunk slightly, I was careful not to indulge too much. The lamb in the pie tasted of other things such as lentils, mashed in to give it it's density, the gravy was more water than stock and the potato topping was almost non-existent, but that was of little consequence. Savouring every mouthful, this was the merriest lunch I'd had in a long while, purely grateful for the fact it was food.

Afterwards I sipped on water and thanked Elsie profusely for the spare uniform, before inquiring: "so do the patients have the same as us for lunch?"
Knowing breakfast, sometimes tea and always supper would be a small amount, eaten together just the four of us in our lodging, lunch was the main meal of the day when all of us on shift sat together.
"With the York's, we'd usually eat the same lunch as the patients," I explained.
"Oh, yes, the same here. Not as much as the soldiers in the trenches like, but then, our brews never taste of onions!"she smiled.
Remembering the poor soldiers usually only having one or two pans to cook out of, their food and drink would often taste of the pot's previous foodstuff, especially if it had a pungent taste anyway.

Afterwards Elsie and myself shared a pot of tea. Able to tell she wanted me to divulge where I'd been at daybreak, it'd have to wait until bedtime. I couldn't risk others hearing or, even worse, being the subject of gossip.
Knowing what it was like to have others discussing your private life, I felt extra vigilant on this.

Not that long after the War began, one afternoon in late September 1914, I was in the post office working behind the counter. Lavinia had been putting Charlie down for a nap when Fred Halsey barged in. Fred lived with his mother up the lane and had been in John's year at school before his behaviour had him expelled. After that he'd spent time prowling the streets and the neighbouring countryside trying to begin arguments. Never violent, everyone gave him a wide berth though. His mother I always felt sorry for and Fred too in a way. He always seemed so angry with the world, but I knew he was harmless. Anyway, I'd been in there alone when he stormed in ranting, raving and turning the air blue, before spitting on the poster of Lord Kitchener summoning men to the front. Thankfully we'd had little customers that day and, managing to calm him down, I brought out a chair and made us both a cup of tea. When Lavinia returned downstairs, surprised to see Fred and even more shocked he was in a rare state of calm, I offered to walk him back home, my arm loosely around his shoulders to coerce him to come with me. His mother thanked me, relief washing over her careworn face, and asked me in for dinner, but not wishing to encourage him, and having just lost James, I politely declined. Unfortunately though, the next day everyone fell silent when I walked into the grocers... and the butchers. 'Twas only when I asked Lavinia outright, it transpired I'd been seen with Fred by the town gossips and was the current topic for several weeks. Eventually, of course, they grew tired and someone else became the object of their speculations. It still stung though, and had left me wary of displaying any affection towards another man without fully meaning it with all my heart.

Over milky tea I asked Elsie uneasily, "do we need to take lunch to any patients who aren't in our actual hospital tent? If so, I don't mind." Feeling devious for having my own hidden agenda as this wasn't in my nature, I vowed inside again to fill her in at bedtime. Hating to deceive anyone, Elsie was such a kind friend and had become so dear to me already.
"Mmm, dunno' if there are any," was her nonchalant reply.
Realising now that I needed to trust her and have an ally on this, I took a deep breath, then continued with my voice hushed, constantly searching to make sure no ears were listening in: "the thing is, I left early to get to the Second Devon's camp."
Elsie gave a tiny squeal of delight before tapping her hands on her knees."Ooooh, I had a feeling," she sang out quietly, "I heard you'd had a right bollocking off old Coronel Ashy-face! Don't worry love, most of us 'ave at some point. Well... did you find him? Your Lance Corporal?"
"Yes," I told her earnestly, but the smile evident in my words.
Elsie could barely hold her excitement down, "that's a miracle you did. That he survived that, Jane! And then a true needle in a haystack. Is he here now?"
"Somewhere," I told her, "Sister patched him up. Look, Elsie, he's got concussion. He's been put in officer's quarters somewhere. Sister did say it was next to our tent."
"I see..." her words were measured and I could see she was working out Will's possible location.
"Just give me a minute..." she whispered, her long, elegant neck craning, giving the room a quick scan, before turning back to me, "...I can go and find out quickly. Stay 'ere, m'lovely."