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( Chapter Sixteen: THREE ALLEYS IN A FRENCH CAFÉ )
ROBIN STARTED HER WEEKEND OFF FROM NURSING BY HEADING INTO FRANCE WITH A NEW DRESS AND A BOTTLE OF CHERRY-FLAVOURED GIN IN HAND. She'd been cast merrily overseas, and had been able to disguise her morning sickness as being that of the rocky sea; however, she wasn't sure that boating was too good for her either way, and spent must of her time flat on her back on the canvas bunk, staring at the bottom of the one stacked above her own.
She'd been stationed exactly where she'd told Olive; rural, occupied France. It was solitary and quaint and a nice place to take legless men on leisurely strolls in their wheelchairs, especially if they enjoyed the fresh air as much as she did, even when it was a frosty December. The military action was scarce but the bodies were still heavily amounting in the streets; infected wounds and dank conditions made for a lot of passings away, and there was no way that the nurses could get rid of the bodies other than to stack them up in a pile on the side of the street and wait for someone to come and take them away.
A petite French girl with big front teeth ane a pretty face named Fleur Buchanan had began the rumour that they were incinerating the bodies using Nazi technology after she'd seen a sketchy article in an American newspaper that was given to her by one of the hospitalised Yanks. Delphine Bisset dismissed that as nonsense and said that all the bodes were taken to morgues as they awaited conformation from their families of what to do with their bodies. Nurse Bisset had the gruelling task of identifying the deceased men and writing tags that listed their station, divison, where they were from and their name, and then tying them to their big toe using string.
Robin tried not to think about it too often, and spent most of her time in the more lighthearted wards of the hospital, where the men did jigsaws and dances and sang romantic songs to impress the nurses they wanted to take out that weekend. Everyone seemed to be in the frame of mind to couple up — it was on trend to have a soulmate these days, and besides, if these women were to wed these men and then lose them to the Germans, they'd have a chance of receiving a hunk of money for mourning compensation.
Herself and James had a crossover of merely one day — only one day when their time in Paris overlapped. Robin had arrived in with some other nurses that were quartered nearby, but there were none of them that she was particularly close to, which was beneficial as she could romp off into Paris without a second thought about anyone but Jim.
It was a bad headspace to be in. She was a fool, and she could hear Olive and Kitty chiding her in her head constantly whenever she stopped for a moment to think. However, she couldn't help but feel as if they didn't understand; that nothing that they were going through was nearly comparable to what Robin was feeling. She acted as if she was the only war bride and the only British girl following her solider boyfriend out into Europe like a humble little lemming.
