“I see. It appears that your presence is required at an inquest being held next week. We’ve been asked to approve leave for you to give testimony.”
“I was with Mrs. Ellis when we were searching for the missing man, and we were the ones who found his body.”
“Yes, I see. Then I shall approve this request for leave. Five days should be sufficient? We’re really short staffed, and you are one of our most experienced nurses.”
“I don’t know what is sufficient, Matron. I’ve had no news since the first inquest was adjourned while the police proceeded with their inquiries.”
“Very well. I shall ask for five days, with the understanding that if more time is required, the police can give you a chit explaining why it was necessary to remain longer than that.”
“Thank you, Matron.”
And she was gone. Official word of my leave came down the next day, and I asked if I could be sent home via Rouen, as I’d like to look in on patients there.
To my surprise, the request was granted. And then I learned why when I was given orders to accompany a train of severely wounded men to Rouen for further care.
It proved to be an arduous journey, and I lost one patient before we pulled into the station in Rouen. Stretcher bearers and orderlies and ambulance drivers helped us take the wounded out of the train and ferry them to the race course.
There I found a very orderly receiving station, although what had been a five-hundred-bed hospital had soon expanded to thirteen hundred or more. The American nurses were quiet and efficient, and soon my charges were dealt with.
I had just signed the paperwork when I heard off in the distance that wild laughter. Cracked and weak, but undeniably Sergeant Larimore’s kookaburra.
I said, “I know that sound.”
An American nurse rolled her eyes. “I declare, he’s the most impossible man.” She wore pince-nez glasses and had a soft voice that reminded me a little of Devon.
“It’s a bird. Like a kingfisher. An Australian bird.”
She considered me, doubt clear in her face. “I live by a river. I’ve seen kingfishers most of my life. They don’t make any sounds like that.”
“No. May I see him? I’m so glad to know the Sergeant is still alive.”
She weighed the possibility that I had a romantic interest in an attractive man. I could see the thought passing through her mind as she debated whether to allow a visit.
“I was the sister who took the shrapnel out of his shoulder the first time he was wounded,” I added helpfully.
“Ah. Sister Crawford. He’s done nothing but compare everything we do to your skill and dedication. I’m delighted to meet this paragon at long last.”
I could feel the warm blood rush into my face. “I’m so sorry! I expect he was being cheeky.”
“Indeed.” She looked in the direction the sound had come from. “I must tell you, he’s not out of the woods yet. He had such a fever when he was brought to us-that was almost three weeks ago-and he was out of his mind the first few days. You will find him much changed. There’s still the possibility of pneumonia. But he insists on getting out of bed and walking about. He even disappeared into Rouen two days ago. When he was brought back, he claimed he’d been delirious and didn’t know what he was going. It’s difficult to keep him quiet. Perhaps you can persuade him to be more sensible.”
She pointed to a tent in the third row, the first one in the tidy white line. The contrast with the forward dressing station where I’d been working was very evident. And I even caught a glimpse of the X-ray machine that had saved so many lives.
I went down to the race course and located the tent in which Sergeant Larimore was once more making his raucous call.
Walking through the flap, I said in my best imitation of Matron’s voice, “That will do, young man. There are other wounded in this Base Hospital, you know. Show a little consideration for them.”
He turned his head to argue with me, recognized me, and grinned. “So they finally brought you here,” he said. “I was on them about you often enough.”
“So I heard,” I said. “Nurse Barlow was disappointed that I didn’t walk on water.” I nodded to the nurse who had just completed his bath and waited while she took the used water out to dump. It also gave me an opportunity to come to terms with the change in the man I remembered as tall, vigorous, and healthy.
His face had been pared down to the bone, and his body seemed thinner under the sheet and blanket. A ravaging fever could do that. He was wearing the blue hospital suit the Americans issued to all patients, and it appeared to fit well enough. I thought perhaps his own determination was healing him faster than medical care at this stage.
The Sergeant tried to stand up, and I pushed him back down again. “I shall be sent home in disgrace if you take a turn for the worse on my account,” I told him firmly.
“Yes, well, I’d heal faster if I could move about. Lying here day after day, I can’t regain my strength. I walk when they aren’t looking, and that’s helping. I thought in the beginning they were sending me home-I heard them talking about Boulogne when I was awake enough to understand what was going on. That’s where the ships leave for Down Under. I’m damned if I’ll let them do that. My men need me more than Australia does.”
I thought perhaps that was where his determination sprang from. And I’d seen, more than once, how the resolve to go back into the line had worked miraculous cures.
“Have you been assigned here?” he asked hopefully, changing the subject.
“No, actually I have a brief leave coming to me. I asked to be sent home by way of Rouen because of the child.”
“I didn’t dream it then. Your voice, thanking me.”
“Your list helped enormously, and the house is here, in Rouen. It’s an almost unbelievable stroke of good luck.” I told him how I’d found Sophie and what I’d learned from Sister Marie Joseph. “I intended to speak to the solicitor here in Rouen to learn what was necessary to take her to England, but I ran into her real father-almost literally ran into him. And I had to put it off, for fear he might try to follow me. Besides, Sophie had just broken out with chicken pox, and she shouldn’t have been moved.”
“Do you want me to pose as her real father? If that would help?”
I smiled. “You don’t sound much like a British officer.”
“But I can do just that, my dear,” he retorted in perfect imitation of one.
I should have realized that if he could imitate the bird’s call so well he was a natural mimic.
The nurse returned to retrieve her towels, soaps, shaving gear, and scissors, telling Sergeant Larimore not to tire himself. Turning to me, she said, “A torn lung.”
“A torn lung,” he mimicked as soon as the tent flap fell behind her, then in his normal baritone voice, he added, “As if I didn’t know. The surgery nearly killed me. It was a close-run thing. But I’m mending now. Tell me more about the child. I need something to think about besides the Base Hospital’s bloody routine. Sorry, Sister.”
And so I related the entire story. “My ship leaves at three o’clock this afternoon. I just have time to go back to the house and see how she is.”
“I hope you find her recovering. She’s young for that, isn’t she?”
“Not really. Chicken pox can sweep through an entire family in a matter of days, from the youngest to the eldest. In fact, the earlier you have it, the better. Older children often have more trouble, and scarring can be a problem. Although those scars often fade with the years.”
“If I’m ever allowed to leave this place, I’ll go along to this Rue St. Catherine and see her for myself.”
“You must be very careful,” I warned. “The nuns are not very happy with visitors.”
“I understand that. A great lug of a soldier frightening the little ones won’t do. I won’t go empty-handed. I’ve been collecting what I could. Soap, a little sugar and some coffee.” He smiled. “Will you be coming back through Rouen, then?”
“I hope to. I don’t know.”
“Don’t forget to look me up.” We were interrupted by a thermometer put in his mouth by an older woman with a severe face. When she had gone, he asked me about myself. “My neighbor for the first week was an English
