Ardnish Was Home Episode 17

LOUISE Friday was my day off, but only if we weren’t too busy. My friends Madge, Prissie and I would dress up to the nines and head off into Piccadilly and the bars to try and find some officers to take us to dinner or a show.

Madge was beautiful, with long red hair and an elegant figure. She was a surefire way of getting men to join us when we went out, and was seeing a captain in the Hussars who had been a patient. Prissie and I were sure that they were going to get married, although Madge always played it cool with him.

Prissie was petite and lively, a wonderful character, with sparkly eyes; always playing tricks on everyone. Her hair was jet black and she had naturally dark skin. She hated to go to bed before dawn, and we often ended up dragging her away from dance halls only a couple of hours before we were on duty again.

We had a great time together. There was the fat Frenchman who was far too fresh and who we pushed into the fountain in Trafalgar Square, or the time we ran away from the Military Police and hid behind some bins while all the soldiers were herded into trucks at one particularly rowdy club.

Favourites

Christmas Eve, and we had nearly finished our training. The three of us were at a bar with a tremendous crowd all around. The band were playing all the favourites, we had danced ourselves half to death, and each of us had a beau. I didn’t think life could get much better.

Madge rushed across in great excitement. “You’ll never guess what,” she gasped. “Matron and Colonel Tommy are here having dinner – just the two of them!”

We moved through the crowd for a closer look, and as we did they got up to dance, passing quite close to us. Matron went right by and didn’t see us. Colonel Tommy caught my eye and I winked at him. He winked back. They danced closely, with me almost cannoning into them once. Matron must have seen us, but she never once looked our way.

The next day we worked awkwardly in her company and nothing was said. The news spread like wildfire, though, and by that night everyone in the hospital knew of their affair.

If only Mam and the rest knew what fun could be had. Mam knew no life outside the Valleys, and that often made me sad.

But the Valleys weren’t in my mind that much. We worked from dawn to dusk, night shift every second week; and during our time off we either slept or were with friends.

I got letters from Mam the whole time, telling me how the village had been excused conscription because coal was needed for the war, that Dad was poorly, but he got her to read my letters over and over again.

I’d been at her to come up to London for a few days and had saved the money for her train ticket, but she said Dad wasn’t well enough and someone had to be there for Owen and the others. I was due to finish my training in February, and I got her to promise to come up then. We were to have a presentation of our Queen Alexandra cap badges and a few days off before our postings.

I got a letter from Mam. Dad had collapsed in the welfare club and been rushed to hospital. He had been coughing up blood in the last few days, although he had tried to hide it. She asked if I could get time off to go and see him, saying he’d asked for me. I steeled myself to ask permission. Matron was surprisingly nice about it.

“Of course you can go,” she said. “Take two days. I’ll see if I can get you a warrant for the train.”

I nearly burst into tears, she was so kind. She only remembered to be tough as I went out the door. “Don’t forget to learn up on limb injuries on the train,” she called out. “The exam is only three weeks off.”

The exam was all-important. If we passed we would wear the lovely red-and-grey uniform and be respected by everyone; if we failed we would be auxiliaries, doing the menial tasks.

I rushed to get the train to Newport... It took almost seven hours to get there. It would have been a long journey by oneself, but there was plenty of good company.

Vivid

I look closely at DP’S face. Not a flicker of acknowledgement that I might be referring to our first encounter. It was so vivid to me, how could he not remember? What I want to say, but can’t bring myself to, is this: The train was packed with a crowd of Highland soldiers off to Brecon for their training.

The banter was great, with half a dozen Scouts, as they described themselves, packed into five seats – all full of chat about why the Highlands was the best place to live and how they were off to a posting in the Dardanelles in a month.

One of the Jocks was 20 or so, gawky, red-haired and shy; he said it was his first time out of the Highlands. He was a piper; the best there was, the others agreed. As the journey wore on, the others drifted off to sleep or chatted among themselves, and the piper and I had a great blether. He seemed a kind man. I knew from the start he was special, and I never forgot him.

Reaction

He told me of the unusual night sky, the northern lights, that he saw at his home. How his dad would wake him before dawn on a cold crisp winter’s night and lead him outside, where they would lie side by side on a bank wrapped in a blanket.

He described the most extraordinary light show. The sky was lit up with blues and greens and a multitude of colours that swirled and changed, his first recognition of what real beauty was.

It was you, DP, and now I have found you again.

I pause, hoping for a reaction, some recognition, but there is none.

I tell him I left the train at Newport and took a bus up to Abergavenny... I put special stress on “Abergavenny”, still reading DP’S face closely. Obviously, the bandages disguise a lot of expression, but, to my intense disappointment, there is still no sign that he remembers once meeting me.

I can’t believe he has no recollection. Can he be concealing it? Maybe he’s lost his memory since being captured by the Turks. With a heavy sigh, I carry on with my story.

The piper and I had a great blether. He seemed a kind man. I knew from the start he was special, and I never forgot him