Home Front Girls

she painstakingly applied a fresh one.
    ‘I – I got blown up,’ he managed to tell her. ‘I was trying to help my friend who had been shot, back to one of the trenches, b-but he didn’t make it anyway.’ His head rolled from side to side in distress. ‘H-he was just twenty-four years old and married with a new baby. He didn’t even get to meet his child.’ A tear rolled from the corner of his eye and sliced its way down his stubbled cheek, and deeply affected, Annabelle gently wiped it away. And then her heart plummeted as she suddenly realised that Joel didn’t know about his own little sister’s and his mother’s death. She was in a dilemma. Should she tell him, or would any more bad news tip him over the edge? She decided to say nothing for now. She didn’t want to do anything to impede his recovery, but she could at least let Lucy know that he was alive and perhaps she could write to him and tell him? Deciding that this might be the best course of action, she finished dressing his wounds, then after washing him and making him as comfortable as possible she moved on to the next bed, promising that she would be back as soon as she could.
    That night, before retiring, she wrote to Lucy telling her that Joel was alive and in Haslar, then she hurried down to the reception area and placed her letter along with the others that would be collected and posted the next morning. Lucy wrote back immediately, begging for more news of her brother and asking how serious his injuries were. It was almost a week later before the letter arrived, and thankfully by then Joel was a little stronger, but he still had a long way to go before he made a complete recovery. His leg had been so badly broken in three places that the bones had actually been protruding through his skin, and although the surgeons had managed to save it they had told him that he would always have quite a bad limp and would probably have to walk with the aid of a stick. Thankfully his other injuries had been fairly superficial and now as the bruises started to fade his skin was a kaleidoscope of yellows, reds, purples and blues.
    Annabelle wrote to Lucy again, telling her that she could write to Joel although there were no visitors allowed at Haslar. She explained about the severity of his injuries but said that he would survive, hoping to put her mind at rest – and then she also told her that as yet, he had not been informed of Mary or his mother’s death. And then once that letter, too, was posted, all she could do was wait.
    ‘I’ve heard of Joseph’s coat of many colours, but skin is ridiculous,’ Annabelle would tease him as she gently bathed his fading bruises.
    Slowly his speech improved over the weeks as he regained his strength, and he began to watch for a sight of her walking into the ward.
    ‘I think young Mr Ford has a soft spot for you, Nurse,’ the Ward Sister teased her one day, and Annabelle blushed and quickly walked away to cart a bedpan off to the sluice. Being back on the wards meant she could spend as much time as possible with Joel, without making it look too obvious. When she had first met him, she had felt drawn to him, despite her reservations. That same attraction was still there, but now she felt as if they had more in common. She was a working girl now for a start-off and not the spoiled young madam Joel who had once known, who felt that the world was at her feet.
    The day came when she received another reply from Lucy. It arrived just as she was about to go to breakfast, which meant that Joel’s letter might well have arrived too. When she walked into the ward a short while later, Annabelle saw instantly that Joel had received his sister’s letter. His eyes were bloodshot, much as they had been when he first arrived, and there was no welcoming smile today.
    ‘Did you know about Mary and my mother?’ he asked as she approached his bed and made a pretence of straightening the blankets.
    ‘Yes. I wanted to tell you but I didn’t feel it was my place. I’m so sorry, Joel.’
    He stared up at the ceiling. ‘Poor little mite didn’t have much of a life, what with one thing and another, did she? Neither did my mother if it came to that. She was an invalid for most of her life,’ he muttered, and Annabelle felt her throat constrict.
    ‘But at least Mary was loved during the time she did have,’ she answered softly. ‘She couldn’t have had a better brother or sister. And I’m sure your mother knew that you