Wildflowers In The Ruins: A 1917 Story

Chapter Fifteen. Forget-Me-Nots

Saturday April 7th, 1917:

My stomach felt hollow. "Private Harries?" I repeated weakly.
"Yes," Lizzie told me, her voice thin and reedy, lacking it's beautiful richness. "Doctor thinks septacemia."
"Oh no! How terrible. Poor poor man!" I cried.
"You spotted it though, didn't you?" she asked, eyebrows high and lips pursed.
"Well... y,yes. He had blotchy skin and a temperature earlier. I... I did report it to Sister Thompson...," I stammered.
"I know," she cut in. "You did well to spot it. Sister told me."
Remembering Doctor Johnson's cool response at Sister Thompson earlier, I asked her, "but didn't the doctor follow it up?"
Lizzie shrugged resignedly, "you'd have thought so. All I'll say is Doctor Johnson 'favours' certain patients, but you didn't hear that from me, Jane."
Horrified, my thoughts flew to Will. Was he under Doctor Johnson's care? I'd have to make doubly-sure now anyone I was assigned to, Will included, was taken seriously and received the treatment they needed.
"Where is he now," I asked her sadly.
"Just gone down to the mortuary. Sister took him, as you'd expect." Lizzie swallowed, a lump in her throat. "I read that letter you'd helped him with, was still clutched in his hand."
I couldn't bear it, as tears began to flow freely from my eyes, "Gwyn! His poor wife!"
She nodded, sobbing now too,"I know Jane. Sister will write to her though."
Lizzie sniffed and dabbed her eyes with her immaculate lace-trimmed handkerchief, "we're certain he went in his sleep, that's a small mercy. He wouldn't have been in any pain... very quick."
Bringing her into my arms and hugging her, we shared in our sadness alone for a moment, before
dabbing at my eyes with my thumbs, I thanked her for telling me.
Private Harries. I hadn't even prayed for him!

At last I re-entered my hospital tent and resumed my duties. Private Harries' bed was hurriedly re-occupied, as if his memory had been erased just as his name was wiped clean from the chalkboard fixed above his pillow. Instructed to boil sterilize all of the surgical instruments and equipment, this was an arduous task, but it kept me busy in the hospital kitchen for several hours. Something laborious that I couldn't hurry, I was left well alone so I spent most of it praying for my beloved William, other patients, for Gwyn and for this war to end. Hoping with all my heart to visit Will again very soon, daydreams of him often floated in and out of my mind.
"Nurse Morgan," Sister Thompson broke my thoughts.
"Sister, I've nearly completed the sterilizations," I told her solemnly.
"Very good, Morgan," she breathed, giving them a steady inspection. Finally she looked at me frankly, "you've done a thorough job on these, well done. You may stop now and I'll ask Maisie, Nurse Evans to complete it."
She pulled up two metal kitchen chairs which screeched across the hard floor, then motioned for me to sit opposite her as she gracefully sat down.

"Nurse Morgan..." she began as I sat, hands knotted together in my lap.
Had I been seen entering or exiting Will's room? I wondered. Perhaps this was to do with Private Harries, God rest his soul.
"... you're sadly probably aware by now of the passing of Private Harries."
"Yes Sister, I was very sorry to hear. Nurse Morelli told me," I answered, my eyes downcast.
"You were correct to inform me of his symptoms when you did. Unfortunately I'm certain it was septacemia. I shall write to his wife this evening when my shift finishes."
This still didn't explain Doctor Johnson's behaviour towards her though.
"Sister, if I may. Forgive me but I saw your exchange with Doctor Johnson earlier..."
Sister Thompson narrowed her eyes,
"Nurse Morgan, Doctor Johnson's business is exactly that, HIS business. Whilst you may not agree with his practices, I must remind you, you are not in a position to challenge it. Are we clear on that?" Her voice was clipped and forthright.
"Yes Sister," was my reply, pressing my lips together.
"Well, now we've dealt with that, I have some more positive news for you personally, Morgan," her tone softened. "Coronel Ashmore managed to speak to Major Hepburn an hour ago."
He'd managed it.
Perhaps the Major said something in my favour.
"I must say, he apparently spoke rather highly of you," Sister Thompson smiled knowingly, "he was begining to think you were something of an enigma. As he couldn't find you anywhere earlier, he told Coronel Ashmore he thought you were Mackenzie's guardian angel at first. He is apparently recovering well. The Major sends his warmest wishes to you."
This shocked me indeed, for I wasn't used to such overwhelming compliments.
"Major Hepburn also asked if you had found Lance Corporal Schofield. Coronel Ashmore explained you had and we had him here recovering with us," she told me.