Millie's boots sunk into the mud beneath her as she and all her fellow nurses piled out of the truck. The ride from London to York was long, damp, and quite terrifying.
The ship pulled into the docks at around 9pm, give it take. Millie was yet to fix her pocket watch to the correct time, and her body clock was completely screwed up. The city was in what seemed like a complete blackout, hardly any light at all. Even the street lamps weren't lit.
Without time to rest, the nurses were handed their suitcases and were told to walk in a single file line up to a big, rickety looking truck. The headlights were blacked out so only the smallest slits let any sort of light come out, barely enough to see.
Everyone was cold, wet, and many were still nauseas from the violent sea sickness they faced on the trip ride over– Sylvia included. She just couldn't keep anything down, and was up at all hours vomiting into any sort of bucket she could find...or sink...or one of Millie's shoes, unfortunately.
Now they were far away from the city, and more lights could be seen although not by much. This part of the country was clearly less at risk for bombs so they didn't need to worry as much.
The truck had pulled outside the gates of some huge fancy house, it looked like a small castle. And by small, it was still massive, just smaller than what you'd expect someone like the Queen to live in.
Apparently, these houses were turned into makeshift hospitals all the time. Many of Englands wealthier families were doing their part for the war effort by giving up their homes for soldiers to be nursed in.
Millie had a funny relationship with the rich, she herself grew up comfortable, and had more than many, especially throughout the depression, but she wasn't anywhere near this wealthy. In fact, wealth like this was a distant dream for someone like her. She didn't even know anyone who came close to living like Englands aristocratic families.
"Maybe we will get our own room..." Sylvia leant in and whispered as they all trudged up the long driveway.
"Hopefully, I'm sick of sharing with everyone else." Millie snarled. She felt guilty for how she spoke, knowing there were men in trenches, fighting for their lives. "But I mean, it could definitely be worse." She added.
Guilt had become second nature to her lately, there wasn't anything she could say or do that didn't leave her feeling some sort of way.
As the striking manor grew nearer, a line up of servants could be seen waiting out the front. They were all female, apart from the butler who looked well above the fighting age. The other men would no doubt be at war right now.
"I can't believe people still have servants." Sylvia muttered beneath her breath. "And at this time?"
Millie nodded, glancing at the women in aprons staring back at them. "The family that owns this house must be incredibly rich."
Rain had started to pour on the nurses as they all stood in a huddle before the house staff. "Good evening, nurses." The housekeeper greeted in a thick Yorkshire accent. "Or, should I say, good early-morning. It's about two-am as we speak."
Streams of tired "good mornings" from the nurses were mumbled out, with many of the nurses hunching over, nearly falling asleep on their feet.
"I am Mrs Holbrook, the housekeeper, and this is Mr Eccles, the butler. Tonight, we will show you all to your quarters, which you will pair up with a fellow nurse and share with. Starting immediately, you will wake up at 5am sharp to start your duties. The matron on duty will give you your orders."
The nurses nodded and Sylvia raised her hand. "So, you're not our matron?"
The housekeeper smiled, she actually seemed quite sweet which was not what Millie was expecting of an old British woman. "No, miss. The only orders you will take from us are to keep your private quarters clean. Other than that, there's schedule in the kitchen for when meals are to be served, but the cook, Ms Bates will put your meals aside so you may eat whenever your duties are over."
Sylvia nodded and when nobody else had any questions, the housekeeper gestured for everyone to follow her around the back of the house and in through the servants door.
She marched down the hallway into the servants quarters, where empty rooms were that once belonged to the male servants, now dedicated to the nurses like Millie.
Sylvia had a death grip on Millie's arm, essentially saying 'you're rooming with me,' and Millie didn't mind at all.
Once everyone had been appointed their rooms, Millie and Sylvia placed their suitcases on their beds and slowly started to unpack. The majority of the house was asleep, apart from the nurses who were already working that were on duty, tending to the injured.
"I feel like I've stepped back in time," Millie hummed out, pulling out her uniform for her duties.
"I know right," Sylvia's twangy voice chimed. "Everything here is old fashioned."
"London wasn't like this, I know we didn't see much of it but it seemed a bit more with the times."
"Just think what the future is going to be like, Mills."
Millie smiled, a little sadly. " I hope I get to see the future." She was, of course, referencing to a future with Steve, near or distant.
Sylvia chuckled. "Wouldn't that be something," she started unbuttoning her dress. "You know, I hear that Stark is working on a flying car."
"A flying car?" Millie's eyes went wide. "I feel like we just got regular cars..."
"I know, so can you imagine what things will be like in, say... the next century?"
"You mean the two-thousands?" Sylvia nodded. "I don't know, that doesn't even seem like a real time to me."
"I suppose it doesn't matter anyway, we will be far too old for anything cool then anyway."
Sylvia's words weren't supposed to make Millie sad, but they did. Millie did everything she could to not show her dampened emotions, not wanting to make her feel bad.
Millie turned around, letting Sylvia ramble on about the future while a tear squeezed out of Millie's eyes. The future seemed wondrous, yes, but also terrifying. Millie knew that even if she was still alive for 60 more years, Steve wouldn't be. Steve probably wouldn't even be alive for another 20.
"Mills?" Sylvia snapped and Millie quickly dried her eyes, turning around. "Are you listening to me?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry." Millie looked down. "I guess I'm kind of out of it tonight."
"That's fair, I only asked if you were going to sleep now?" Millie looked at the clock on the wall and simultaneously pulled out her pocket watch to adjust it.
She wanted to write out another letter to Steve, so she could have it sent out in the morning, but with less than three hours of sleep lined up, she decided against it. She'd write to him tomorrow.
"I guess so, I'm exhausted." Millie started unbutton her own dress and changing into her nightgown. "And we have a long day ahead of us."
"First day on the job. You nervous?"
Millie gulped. "Terrified. You?"
"Yeah, I'm not feeling to good about it. But we got this."
"And hopefully we will be back home soon." Millie said, pulling the pictures her mother gave her out of her bag and setting them on her night stand."
"You will be, Mills."
"And what about you?"
"Me? Well I plan on finding myself a nice British soldier to go home with."
Millie chuckled, noting the joking tones in her friends voice, but she couldn't shake the hint of seriousness that was underlying in her words.
Crawling into bed with another yawn, Millie flicked off her light. "Goodnight, Sylvia."
~
The ringing of the alarm clock sent both Millie and Sylvia shooting bolt up right in their beds, both scrambling to shut it off.
Millie rest her head in her hand when it finally shut off, sighing as she took in a few deep breaths. She had no where near enough sleep for the day, but as nurses, it's not like any of them could complain about it. Millie only hoped she wouldn't fuck anything up due to her lack of sleep.
"Fuck," Sylvia grumbled, forcing herself to get up. "Here we go."
Millie followed and let her feet touch the bare hard wood floor, slipping off her nightie and changing into her nurses uniform. She would love a shower, but she had no idea if or when she was allowed one.
The girls shared a vanity, pinning back their hair as best the could to fit under their bonnets. Their uniforms were different than the ones they wore back home, for their designated hospital. These dresses were blue as well, except they were given a long sleeved and short sleeved option. They also had a white apron pinned to the front of their dress. Simple.
Slipping on their shoes, they looked at each other with a huff. "You have any idea where we're supposed to go?"
Millie shook her head. "I don't even know where we are. Maybe a servant can help."
The pair left their room and where instantly met with two other nurses wandering the hallways, lost. They all started walking down to where they thought the servants hall was when a young maid scurried past with someone bedsheets in her hand.
"Oh, excuse us!" Millie called out and the maid turned around. "Do you know where we're supposed to go?"
The maid smiled at the nurses. "Head to the servants dining hall, your matron is waiting for you."
Millie and the nurses nodded before making haste to the dining hall. Millie thought to herself that if the servants halls were hard to navigate, which must be tiny in comparison to the actual home, she would likely get lost a zillion times.
Finally, after following their noses to the smell of food, they found the kitchen. A long table was set, with both nurses and servants alike sitting down waiting for their meal.
"Ah," the butler said when the girls walked in. "I believe you're the last of the nurses."
"Are we late?" Sylvia asked.
"No," a woman's voice chimed in. "Right on time. Although on time is late, and early is on time. You'll remember that for next time though.
The woman was burly, quite stoic looking though she had a rather posh voice. None of the girls recognised her.
"This is Mrs Briggs." The butler stood to introduce the older woman. "She will be your matron. You will take orders from her."
The housekeeper came in and took her place at the table. "I suggest staying on her good side."
Clearly, the matron and the housekeeper had become quite friendly. The matron seemed scary, but Millie supposed she was no scarier than their matron back home, Mrs Crane.
"You girls may sit."
Millie and Sylvia took their places next to each other, and immediately platters were placed on the table. Millie could see behind her that the cook and kitchen hands were still cooking, working on something rather fancy looking. A bowl of tiny speckled eggs sat next to the stove, which Ms Bates was cracking into a pan and whisking until fluffy.
The food Millie and her fellow nurses were served, along with the servants was much more plain seeming, but Millie didn't mind. It was like what she was used to back home, especially peak depression time. Maybe even better. Except there was no coffee.
"We serve ourselves in this house, so please, plate up." The butler hummed.
Everyone started grabbing at toast, or pouring ladles of porridge into their small bowls. Millie opted for some grainy buttered bread and what appeared to be a leftover roast from the night before. She tried her best to eat, but she was so nervous she could hardly swallow.
Her life was vastly different than a month ago.
One month ago, she was lounging in the sun that peaked through Steve's window, resting her head on his chest while they talked about their dreams or what their plans were for the day.
Now she woke up cold, even in the summer, with no sunshine pouring through her window, and no loving touches from Steve. Just muddy rain, clouds, and an empty bed.
Bringing Millie out of her melancholic daydream, a bell started to chime and servants quickly began to finish their food, frantically slurping down the last of their tea or chewing while grabbing plates of the now finished meals that the cook was working on.
The meals were extravagant looking, decorated in edible flowers and smelt absolutely divine. Nothing like the canned food and boiled veggies that Millie was so used to back home. She thought that must be for the family of the house.
It was odd, to see servants still doing this for their family. Their home has been turned into a hospital, yes, and that is a selfless act, but Millie had read newspapers saying many aristocratic families had even taken to helping out with essential duties, due to the lack of staff.
Many women left their positions to work in factories and then men had all gone to war. This family, however, was so far no where to be found. And very clearly their lives weren't that different to how they likely lived before the war. Before the blitz. Before the depression.
Millie finished her food with a struggle and the matron stood. "Alright, ladies. We have work to do."
Millie and the nurses stood abruptly and followed the matron, thanking the cook and servants for their meal.
"You won't normally eat with the servants," Mrs Briggs said as she marched up the stairs, leading the nurses up into the main house. "Mr Eccles and Mrs Holbrook are working on setting up a designated room for you all to meet and convene that's a bit closer to your patients."
As soon as the door was opened, the sound of pain filled Millie's ears. Wails and agonising cries echoed the halls of the home, but they couldn't even see anyone yet.
"Even with you new recruits here, we are terribly understaffed. You will be working long hours, and even if you're asleep and we call for you, you get up. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mrs Briggs." Everyone said in uniform.
"I expect you all to be fully qualified and trained for this field, but if there's ever anything you're unsure about, ask your peers or myself if it's really that drastic. You're here to help make these poor mens lives better, not cause them more pain."
She stood outside of two double doors and turned to face the girls, looking each of them in the eye. "What you're about to see will likely shock you, but you ladies are nurses. You have a job to do, and god damn it you will do it. Yes?"
"Yes, Mrs Briggs."
The matron turned around again and swung open the doors to a huge room, lined up with hospital beds filled to the brim, each one with a patient resting, or screaming in. Some men were sat on the floor, missing limbs or having their whole heads covered in bandages. Clothes stained with blood and burns laced their bodies.
And to think, these people are considered the lucky ones because they didn't die. Well, Millie didn't think they were very lucky at all.
"Get to it, ladies. Find a patient who's unattended and do whatever you deem fit."
"Those don't seem like good orders." Sylvia whispered to Millie.
"I know," Millie gulped. "But they're the only ones we got."
The nurses stood glued to the floor, staring wide eyed. Fancy carpets were forever ruined with blood stains and the smell of death lingered in the air.
"I said get to it!" The matron snapped and each of the nurses scurried along.
~
Millie trudged her way up the stairs with a half-assed sandwhich in her hand, closely followed by Sylvia. Her day had only just finished, without so much as a break. It was past dark, and the nurses were swapping over to the night shift ones now.
They had stopped by the kitchen, where Mrs Bates had left some preserved meats and cheeses out, along with some bread for their dinner. It wasn't as nice as she was hoping, but figured many of the leftovers would have been eaten up by everyone else.
According to the matron, it's not every day they would miss their meals, but it wasn't uncommon either. This time was particularly busy their rooms overcrowded with the wounded.
Millie and Sylvia tumbled into their rooms and kicked off their shoes, feet dreadfully sore from the constant walking. She both needed a shower, but no one had the energy for the washroom yet. She only hoped tomorrow there would be time.
Millie sleepily ate her sandwich while she laid on her bed, groaning as her bones ached. Sylvia was doing the same, except she didn't even make it to the floor.
"What time is it?" Millie mumbled out."
"It's not even nine yet."
"I'm exhausted." She sat up with a huff, wanting nothing more than to sleep but she also knew that every day would leave her this tired, and she didn't want to put off writing a letter to Steve any longer.
"What are you doing?" Sylvia asked as she made her way to the desk with some bread crusts hanging from her mouth.
"Writing." Her voice was muffled.
She flicked on the desk lamp and pulled out the paper she'd stacked neatly in the drawer. Nothing would ever compare to actually talking to her love, but this would have to do.
Dear Stevie,
I can finally tell you where I am, though I can't give specifics. We're in England, working in a makeshift hospital.
Today was my first official work day, and I was running on less that three hours sleep. It was exhausting but I can't imagine what these men must be experiencing.
It's harrowing, Stevie, truely. Whatever you do, don't let Bucky enlist. I don't want to see either of you here, and I don't want either of you out there.
I think of Marco quite a lot, I hope he is okay. Do you know if Mr Bianchi and Mrs Bianchi have heard from him at all?
I miss New York. England can be pretty, but nothing compares to home. We're in the country, surrounded by rolling green hills. It's a sight to see, but it's quite lonely. The only person I have from home is Sylvia.
She's gotten better, by the way. I think she actually likes England. Wants to find herself a man here.
I also miss you, Steve. I am impatiently awaiting the day I can come back to you, even though I just started.
I hope to hear from you soon.
I love you Steve.
-Millie Mae Elliot
—
A/N:
Surprise! Another one 😎
This chapter was a lot of fun to write, it's so very different.
The next chapter is uh, well...I'm sorry.
Peace and love,
-Lonah Lennox