They then went on to attend a six-course feast on New Year’s Eve at the United Services Club in Chittagong. Fittingly, at a traditional Scottish celebration, several officers were wearing kilts and the evening got underway with a choice of several rather fiery cocktails. The meal started with grapefruit and was followed by a good thick Scotch broth. The third course was fried fish with game crisps and the main course of the evening was roast stuffed goose with apple sauce, new potatoes, cauliflower and green peas. Plum pudding came with lively brandy sauce and finally they were served a savoury Scotch woodcock (scrambled eggs on toast spread with anchovy paste).
‘That was lovely,’ Madge told Basil. ‘I can’t say I’d ever tried Scotch woodcock before tonight and I thought the anchovy added the most delicious bite. I have to tell you, this feels like pure luxury. I can’t remember the last time I ate so well. I’m not actually sure I ever have!’
There was a choice of French or Italian wines and sherry and port were also available, along with curaçao and crème de menthe. Basil had even arranged for the pair to have Christmas crackers on the table – a real luxury.
As they waited for the port to be served Madge looked around at couples determined to enjoy themselves on what, for all the world, could have been a most enjoyable New Year’s Eve celebration dinner in one of the Home Counties, Edinburgh or Belfast. Madge allowed her mind to wander, and began dreaming of the kind of future she hoped for. She wanted an end to the suffering of the boys on the wards, and she wanted to be with Mum, Doris and Doreen. But most of all, she found as she gazed across at Basil, she wanted a future that included the kind and charming man who was sitting opposite her. Oh, stop daydreaming, Madge, she admonished herself. You don’t even know if he feels the same way so it’s pointless getting carried away with yourself – especially as the war isn’t over yet!
‘A penny for your thoughts?’ She looked up at a smiling and inquisitive Basil, and she smiled back at him.
‘Sorry,’ she replied, ‘I was miles away.’ But she was saved from having to explain any further as six proud Scots, with their arms aloft and their kilts gently swaying, encouraged people onto the dance floor to join an emotional and increasingly rousing version of ‘Auld Lang Syne’.
Basil put his arm round her waist and looked deep into her eyes as they joined in the last verse.
‘And there’s a hand my trusty friend
And give me a hand of thine!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
For Auld Lang Syne.’
The 11 p.m. curfew had been put back to 1 a.m. for the nurses at 56 IGH yet it irritated Madge that such a wonderful evening had to draw to a close when there were still so many things to say to Basil.
As the ancient taxi bumped and growled its way back to the hospital complex she ended the evening with a little story that made Basil laugh out loud.
‘I wrote to Mum to tell her that there had been a lot of moans and groans from the nurses about the hospital curfew but added that I did realise it was for our own safety,’ said Madge. ‘When she wrote back she said, “You may be twenty-one now, my girl, but it will still do you the world of good to get to bed at a reasonable time instead of being out gallivanting at all hours of the night!”’
‘I haven’t even met your mum yet,’ smiled Basil, ‘but I like her already!’
Madge’s heart leapt at Basil’s reply. He’s intending to meet my mum. He must see us having a future then. For the first time she was 100 per cent sure that this wasn’t a romance that had bloomed because of the heat of India and the intensity of war. That must mean that he feels the same way I do. She felt a warm glow spread through her as she allowed herself to begin daydreaming all over again.
19
A Moonlight Serenade
While Madge had been genuinely surprised at the invitation from Sally the truth was she had only been a bridesmaid once before and she was very much looking forward to the event as the weeks counted down to the nuptials. Everything seemed to be going smoothly enough because she had been promised the day off by Matron Ferguson; the boys on the wards had been teasing her since the news had got out.
‘Always the bridesmaid, Madge, never the bride. You’re getting past it at twenty-one, old girl.’ It was exactly the sort of leg-pulling that would have gone on with the soldiers’ adored younger sisters had they been at home and, far from worrying her, the jibes made Madge laugh. Her one concern, as the wedding approached, was that there were hardly any clothes shops in Chittagong. Vera didn’t bat an eyelid about the teasing in the wards because she was more than capable of giving as good as she got but, like Madge, she was flummoxed over what to wear as a bridesmaid for the wedding.
One afternoon she and Vera were discussing their problem in the nurses’ mess. Sister Blossom overheard and suggested that maybe they should buy matching saris and have them customised. ‘All you have to do is to show one of our local seamstresses a picture of what you would like and she will copy it,’ said Blossom. The hunt was on!
Madge and Vera, after trying for days to arrange an afternoon when they had downtime from the hospital, finally pencilled in their shopping trip. Lunch, of course, was mandatory and it gave them a chance to discuss the latest twist in the complex life of
