An ominous wailing pierced through the night and struck fear into the hearts of those that heard it. Sybil sat up in her bed, lightly panting in fear. She turned and looked out into the darkness of the room and heard the other girls begin to stir and awaken. One by one, lamps were being turned on and panicked voices sounded throughout the room. "What is that?" One girl asked while another screamed.
"It's the sirens," one girl said in a harsh whisper as she got out of bed. "Turn off your lamps!"
The girls turned toward the one who left her bed and began to turn off the lamps. A few girls began to protest against her actions, but they were quickly silenced when Sister Agnes threw the door open. "Girls, out of bed! Turn off those lamps! Come now, in an orderly manner. This is a drill, I believe, but it must be taken seriously."
Sybil lept out from under her blanket and grabbed her slippers from underneath her bed. The sound of the siren filled her ears as she passed her window and she gathered together with the group of girls trying to leave the room in the darkness. She felt someone lightly grab the sleeve of her nightgown and when she turned to see who it is, she heard Grace whisper to her: "It's only me. I'm sorry, I don't want to trip on you."
Sister Agnes led the first and second group of girls down the stairs and to the first floor of the hospital. They were taken to a ward and were told to stay in a group by the ward entrance. Sybil could barely see anything in the darkness. Sybil could hear the panic from the Ward Sisters and nurses assuring the patients that all was well. The sirens and fear continued on. "Girls, this is where you must be whenever you hear the sirens," Sister Agnes told them. "If any patient is in need of help or is distressed, you are to help them."
"Are you certain this is only a drill?" A girl asked with a tearful voice. "Do we not have a shelter?"
"This is a drill," Sister Agnes said to her. "We do not have a shelter. The patients come first. We must do what we can to assure the safety of everyone, but we must remain brave and we must remain in the hospital." Sister Agnes paused and listened to the sirens. "I can hear the 'all clear' siren now."
Sybil listened but heard no difference in the nightmarish sound. Her heart was pounding, and as she tried to remain calm, she realized that this was a sound and feeling she would have to become accustomed to. Anytime she heard it, it meant she had to help and be prepared, whether it be life or death. She held her own shaking hands and took a deep breath. I am brave.
The sirens finally stopped shortly after they started, even though to everyone it felt like an eternity had passed. A policeman soon came by to speak to Sister Agnes and address all of the hospital staff. He told them they were to receive heavy curtains for these drills or blackouts and were also to receive gas masks in the morning or early afternoon. Sybil was unfamiliar with all of these procedures. She had never worn a gas mask her entire life; truthfully, the look of them frightened her.
"You shall have those delivered," the policeman said. "Also, there was a light coming from a window upstairs. It was on for far too long. All must be dark when the sirens sound."
The girls in Sybil's group began to whisper among one another and blame the other for turning on their lamp. Sister Agnes shushed them and turned towards them. "Please be respectful and listen," she commanded politely. "No one is to blame. I'm sure many of you have never experienced anything like this before."
"It is understandable just this once," the officer said. "The curtains we shall give you will help prevent any light from escaping the windows, but there should not be any light to begin with. If you have lights on during the sirens, you are making the hospital more susceptible to becoming a target to the enemy above. We must be prepared for something similar to what happened here during The Great War."
Sister Agnes nodded and looked at the group of girls. "Now you know the importance of not turning on any lights."
"Yes," the officer said and looked around. "Is everything conducted downstairs?"
"It is. All of our patients are downstairs. Our nurses live upstairs. I know it is safer to be here rather than higher up; that is why we all must be here during an emergency."
"I'm glad to hear that. One does not want to be upstairs during an attack. The lower you are, the safer it is," the officer advised and went to the door. "That will be all, I think. These drills shall continue to go on and you shall have all you need for them by tomorrow."
"Thank you, Officer."
After the officer left, the girls were told to return to their rooms and go back to sleep. Sybil almost laughed at the idea. Go back to sleep? How could she when her mind was racing with worries and fears. She followed the others silently up the stairs and found her way to her bed in the darkness, for the girls were too frightened now to turn on their lamps even though the drill was over. She lay down in her bed and heard Grace lying down in the bed next to hers. "Sybil?" She heard Grace whisper.
"Grace?" Sybil responded, surprised at the soft trembling in her voice.
Grace hesitated before speaking. "Are you frightened?"
"Yes," Sybil said to her. "Are you?"
"Yes," Grace sighed. "I know it was only a drill, but what'll we do if it really does happen?"
"Do all that we can to remain safe. Perhaps it won't happen," Sybil answered. It was all she could think of saying to Grace that was comforting. She then lay on her back and turned her head slightly toward the window, covered by light curtains. "Maybe the war will end before anything like that ever does happen."
"Maybe," she heard Grace say. "Goodnight, Sybil."
"Goodnight, Grace." Sybil yawned and turned onto her side. She knew the portrait of her mother was near, and she reached out and felt the coolness of the frame on her fingertips. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on happy childhood memories to fall asleep, but every time she began to have beautiful dreams, she would remember the sound of the sirens that turned her dreams into nightmares.
Staying awake was Sybil's goal the following morning as she dressed for the day. She had had another terrible night's sleep, but she had many things to look forward to today; her courses were beginning and she was going to wear her new uniform for the first time. She stared at herself in the room's full-length mirror. Her uniform consisted of a pale blue dress, which was quite stiff and a bit uncomfortable, with a small cross on the collar, and an apron that everyone needed help tying. Her small white hat was what she put on last. A dark blue cape was also given, but only to be worn when they were leaving the hospital.
Sybil smiled softly at herself in the mirror. She saw the resemblance to her mother even more now and she wished her father could see her. She imagined how proud he and her family would be. She even felt proud as she saw herself in her uniform. Having the uniform on gave her a confidence that made her feel that she was where she needed to be, but the knowledge of impending dangers caused her to falter a bit, but she would remain strong, or at least, she hoped she would.
"When does our course start again?" Sybil asked as she ate her breakfast in the dining hall with Grace. Grace checked her schedule and showed it to her. "In one hour. It's an anatomy course."
"Ah, how interesting," Sybil said as she pushed her food across her plate with her fork.
"Very," Grace smiled. "Oh, and I saw on the task list hung up on the door that you and I are to wash dishes in the afternoon and evening."
"Wash dishes?" Sybil asked. "That doesn't have anything to do with nurse training, but alright." She did not mind washing dishes, but she wished she could be doing something more, such as helping nurses administer medication or even watching nurses tend to patients. If washing dishes was what she had to do in order to do other tasks, she will accept it happily.
"I know. We have to do that all week, I saw, except on our free days, of course." Grace bit into a biscuit on her plate and then peered over Sybil's shoulder with great curiosity. Sybil, now curious, as well, turned around and saw a crate full of small boxes being wheeled into the room. Sister Agnes stood at the front of the dining hall with a few other nurses.
"Good morning," she greeted. "Our gas masks have been delivered. Each of you is to receive one and you must carry it with you in your satchels you take to lecture and wherever you may go. That is an order all civilians must follow." As she spoke, nurses began to distribute the small boxes to all those sitting at the tables. They were told to open their boxes, as soon as they received them.
When Sybil received her box, she saw the box was labeled "respirator". She opened the box and found instructions inside for putting the mask on. The mask seemed small, but as she took it out, she stared at it in horror. There were two large circles for her to see out of, and a large nozzle-like bottom piece for her to breathe through. Grace looked equally as horrified from across the table. She looked at Sybil and then back at the mask.
"What on earth is this supposed to do?" She asked. "It looks like a monster!"
"Ladies, I recommend you all trying your gas masks, or respirators, on. There are instructors in your boxes. Do be careful, as well. If you need assistance, just ask," Sister Agnes said as she opened her own box. Sybil glanced at the instructors and followed; she pulled at the mask's straps and placed it on her face accordingly. A sickening smell of rubber and something else she couldn't identify almost choked her as she breathed through the mask. She immediately took it off and began to feel a small amount of nausea. Grace had her mask on and did not seem to be sickened by the smell of the mask. She held her hands out in front of her and looked at them through the eyes of the mask.
"I don't like this. How do I look?" Her voice was muffled by the mask but she was still understandable. Sybil coughed and looked at Grace. The mask made her look intimidating.
"You frighten me with it on," she said to her.
Grace nodded. "I feel frightened wearing this, as well."
"This is to protect you should you come across any harmful gases," Sister Agnes explained as she held her mask up for all to see. "You usually cannot smell harmful gases, though, so please, use it accordingly."
Sybil looked at the mask again. "I hope we shall never need to use-"
"Miss?" A nurse stood over Sybil. "You must put your mask on, please. You don't have to keep it on, but you need to see how it works."
Sybil nodded in response, and when the nurse walked away, she put the gas mask on again, disgusted once more by the smell of it. If only Papa could see me now.
An hour later, Grace and Sybil speedily walked across the courtyard together to get to their lectures; their gas masks now in their satchels. The medical school was filled with students, some not even nurses-in-training; there were even young men there studying to become doctors. "Where is our lecture hall?" Grace asked out loud as she fumbled for her schedule in her satchel. "This mask is really a nuisance!"
Sybil, amused, looked at her own schedule as they walked past numerous lecture halls and classrooms. "We passed it. It was the fourth room we walked by. Hurry!"
They had made it just in time. Seats were still available, but not near one another, so Sybil sat at one end of the room while Grace sat at the other. Their professor introduced himself and immediately began to tell them about their lessons and the specifics of them. The course was on anatomy, something that all students of St. Margaret's had to study. He explained that it was one of the more difficult courses they would have to take, but they would learn a lot from it.
Each student was given a large and heavy anatomy book. Sybil saw that the dark green cover of hers seemed worn, so she took extra care when opening it. Pages upon pages filled with images and information about the human body were presented to her, and she found it all fascinating.
The lecture ended earlier than usual since it was the first day, and Grace soon was by Sybil's side as students began to leave the room. "Carrying this book and gas mask is going to be even a bigger nuisance," Grace smirked.
"The gas mask weighs hardly anything," Sybil laughed. "I looked at my schedule and I don't have a lecture for another two hours. What about you?"
Grace found her schedule more easily now, despite all the items she had with her. "Mine begins in one hour. I think I'll return to the room and put the book on my nightstand. Would you like to join me?"
"Oh, certainly."
The two left the school together and made their way to the courtyard. As they walked, they saw boxes filled with black fabric being placed in front of the hospital. "Those must be the curtains the officer spoke of last night," Grace said quietly to Sybil. Men were unpacking the boxes and distributing them to other men, who all seemed to work at the hospital. Sybil noticed that Peter Harlow was amongst them, but she looked no more and went into the hospital with Grace.
"There," Grace said as she placed her book on her nightstand when they entered their room. "I have a feeling that book will give me quite a bit of trouble."
Sybil smiled and sat on her own bed. She placed her anatomy book on her nightstand, as well, next to the portrait of her mother and the red ribbon. She looked at the clock on the wall and then back at Grace. "Your lecture starts in forty-five minutes."
"Oh! I should go," Grace said as she gathered her satchel. "I know I still have time but I'm worried that I'll get lost. It's better to be too early rather than too late."
"That's true," Sybil laughed.
"I'll meet you in the dining hall later, alright? Goodbye!"
Sybil was left alone in the room but enjoyed her time to herself. She rested on her bed for a little over an hour before she went to the window and looked out at busy London. Time may have stood still for all last night, but now everyone was back to their hectic schedules and lives. She hummed softly to herself and pulled out her suitcase from underneath her bed. She opened it and saw her two evening gowns she brought. How she longed to dance again and how she wished to communicate with Edward. She didn't even have an address to send a letter to him. She sighed and sat on her bed.
A group of chatty girls walked into the room and Sybil immediately closed her suitcase and put it back under the bed. She smiled at them and then grabbed her anatomy book to look through it. The girls were gathering around the small radio at the back of the room and Sybil peeked over the book to see what they were doing. "I want to hear a waltz," one girl said as she began to the knobs of the radio.
"What good is listening to a waltz when you don't have anyone to dance with?" Another asked. Sybil mentally agreed with this question.
"Be careful not to turn the knobs too much, Laura!"
The girl, who must have been Laura, was startled by the other's words. "Why not?" She asked.
The other leaned in and spoke in fearful tones. "If you do that, you might be able to hear the enemy's radio. We may hear the voice of Hitler if you do that!"
"Sh! Stop that!" The third girl harshly whispered. "That's nonsense! You can't hear Hitler on a British radio!"
Sybil listened to the conversation with slight annoyance but at the same time, with great concern. Was what was being said true? She really did not want to find out.
"No, it is true," the girl argued. "If you listen to Hitler's voice on the radio, you'll be punished. Be careful, Laura."
That was all Sybil needed to hear in order for her to want to leave the room. She put her book back on the nightstand and walk past the group of girls, who were too busy arguing to notice her. Sybil was relieved when she heard music coming from the room as she descended the stairs. She sighed and lightly shook her head. That certainly is not Hitler.
The hospital was bustling; not only were nurses tending to patients, men were carrying around boxes and hanging up thick black curtains at the windows. As Sybil walked down a hall, she was startled by the sound of a heavy curtain rod falling onto the floor with a clank. She quickly went to the rod and picked it up. "I believe you dropped this," she said as she looked up at the man standing on a ladder hanging curtains. He turned towards her and smiled. Sybil took a slight step back in surprise when she saw that it was Peter Harlow. "Oh, it's you," she said with a light laugh.
Peter smiled charmingly and jumped off of a ladder step. "It is I," he said to her. He looked down at the rod and gently took it from her. "Thank you for picking this up for me." He climbed back onto the ladder and began to put the rod in place. "Sybil, isn't it?"
"Yes," Sybil answered. "You remembered."
"Well, I knew it was either Sybil or Sylvia. My first guess was correct," Peter grinned.
Sybil chuckled and crossed her arms. "How lucky you were. I remember that your name is Peter. I also remember that I told you that you should address me as Nurse Branson."
"Ah, yes! Forgive me, Nurse Branson," Peter said. "You sounded like a member of nobility just now. For all I know, you may be one."
Sybil tried to suppress her shock at his words. "I might be," she said coolly. "Anyway, are those the curtains for the blackout?"
Peter nodded. "They are. We must be sure St. Margaret's cannot be seen at all from above at night." He slid the black curtain along the rod and half of the window became covered. Sybil now stood in the shadows and was looking up at Peter, who remained in the window's light, since he was standing in front of the uncovered part. His blond hair seemed lighter from the window's gleam and he looked particularly handsome, especially from where Sybil was standing. She watched him adjust the curtain until a group of nurses walked by talking amongst each other.
"Will you get me the other half of the curtain from the box behind you, please, Nurse Branson?" She heard Peter ask. She nodded and turned around. An open box filled with black curtains was placed against the wall. When she reached in and pulled one out, she was surprised at the weight of the curtain. The curtains at Downton Abbey were lace and light while these curtains could be compared to heavy blankets one would need during a harsh winter. She lifted the curtain up toward Peter and he took it with ease.
"Thank you," he smiled and began working on hanging it. "Was last night the first time you've experienced the sirens and drill? Or have you experienced it before?" He asked as he worked.
"Last night was my first air raid drill," Sybil told him. "It was so frightening. I fear those sirens will haunt my memories for the rest of my life. They sound like something from a horror story." She shuddered as she remembered the siren's cries of warning into the London sky.
"I felt the same way when I first heard them," Peter began to say. "I've lived in London all my life and they began the drills shortly after we announced war against Germany at the beginning of this month."
"That's a little over two weeks of daily sirens you've been through," Sybil said, horrified. "I don't know if I'd be able to handle that."
"Well, you're going to have to, I'm afraid. You live here now so the sirens are going to become part of your daily routine too."
What a ghastly realization that was for Sybil. "Even if it is a part of my daily routine, I don't think I'll ever get used to it."
Peter laughed. "I'm used to it. Once you experience more drills, you lose the fear and gain annoyance instead. The sirens become a disruption and a bother just as rain during a picnic is. As long as the sirens are drills, they don't frighten me."
"Hm, well you're right. I may get accustomed to them the longer I'm here," Sybil sighed. "You said you've lived in London you're entire life?"
Peter nodded and began sliding the curtain onto the rod. "I have. My parents are both from here, as well, and they wanted to raise their children here. I enjoy London and I really can't imagine myself being anywhere else. Where are you from?"
"Ah, a village in Yorkshire," Sybil said as she watched Peter finish hanging the curtain. He stepped down from the ladder and went to the box of curtains. He picked it up and began walking over to the next window. "Sybil, will you get the ladder for me, please? It's not heavy."
"Certainly." Sybil lifted the ladder and followed Peter. "And you called me by my name again."
Peter blushed slightly. "Oh, I'm so sorry again. It's just you and me here, though."
"Well, I suppose there's no harm in it if there's no Ward Sister nearby to scold us," Sybil smiled.
Peter laughed and nodded in agreement. "I suppose not."
Sybil placed the ladder in front of the next window and Peter immediately stepped onto it with a new curtain. "What was it you said? Yorkshire? I've been there before," he said.
"Yorkshire, yes," Sybil said. "I'm from a village named Downton." She could see that Peter was trying to recall if he had ever been to Downton. After brief moments of thought, he shook his head.
"I don't believe I've ever been to Downton."
"Oh, Downton is lovely. We have a quaint village, vast farmland, and a beautiful estate, Downton Abbey." As Sybil said the name of her home, she began to yearn for it even more. She frowned and looked out the window that Peter was working on. "London is quite different from Downton," she said quietly. "Here there's large buildings, factories, endless stores, and entertainment. In Downton, it's all green."
"It sounds like a relaxing place," she heard Peter say from above her.
Sybil nodded. "It is," she said and stepped away from the window.
"I suppose London is quite overwhelming for you if you've lived in Downton all your life."
"Not too overwhelming," Sybil admitted. "I actually really like London. It's different, but I enjoy different. Besides, no place is as overwhelming as New York City."
Peter stopped working on the curtain and looked down at Sybil with great interest. "You've been to New York City?"
"I have," Sybil said. New York City was a place she and her father had been to together. They would spend the day there, but the busyness of the city exhausted them. Sybil and her father could only take so much of the fast-paced lifestyle of New York before they both desperately wanted to return home to the countryside.
"I find it hard to believe that a simple girl from a village like Downton has been to New York City," Peter said.
Sybil raised a brow. "Why would you think that? Perhaps I nor my life are as simple as you assume." Sybil noticed that she wasn't sounding very convincing, but she kept her confidence.
Peter seemed baffled by her words. "I didn't mean it like that. I just met you and I suppose I shouldn't make assumptions. As I said before, perhaps you're different. Perhaps your home in Downton is the estate." Peter thought himself funny, but Sybil stood still and silent. She forced a smile and tried to appear as though that idea were ridiculous. "But you can't be," Peter continued. "If you were of a higher standing, what on earth would you be doing here?"
"Helping?" Sybil was confused by his words but thankfully, he continued to speak without her asking.
"The higher class does not want to participate in the parts of war that won't get them medals to display in their castles. They get awarded while we do all the work."
"That's not true at all," Sybil said. She wished she could tell him of the bravery her grandfather had fighting in war when he was a young man and the bravery of her uncle, Matthew, serving as a soldier and her mother being a nurse during the Great War. "I don't know where you got that silly idea from."
"Silly?" Peter asked.
"Yes, silly," Sybil repeated. "People come together in times of war, regardless of class. I know many who had family members that sacrificed their lives in the Great War, both upper and lower class. I hope your views change over time, Peter."
Peter sighed and looked at her. His expression was serious now. "I'm sorry if I've offended you. You are, I dare say, correct. You are also quite interesting, Sybil Branson. I wish I could know what is so different about your life, as you said." His smile had returned.
"I'll have to tell you some other time," Sybil said to him. "I should go and try to find my lecture hall or I will get lost just as I did this morning."
"Alright," Peter laughed. "I hope your lectures go well."
"Thank you," Sybil said as she began to walk away. "Goodbye."
Sybil crossed the courtyard of St. Margaret's and entered the medical school. As she walked in, a simple grandfather clock told the time. She had half an hour until her lecture started and she decided she would take that time to try to find it. Finding the lecture hall, however, only took her five minutes. There was still a lecture going on, but, luckily for Sybil, the library entrance was adjacent to the lecture hall, so she chose to wait in there.
The library was a place that Sybil knew she was going to enjoy. The rows and rows of books overwhelmed her in the best way possible. She walked in between the shelves, reading each title in a whisper, and ran her fingers along each book spine she passed.
She had thought she was the only one in the library at that time, due to it being so quiet and her not seeing anyone as she walked in. However, at the back of the library was a small seating area. A girl was seated in a chair and was reading a book entitled First Aid. She held the book so close to her face as she read, appearing as though what she was reading was secret. On the table next to her seat, was the anatomy book Sybil had also received this morning. Perhaps this girl was in her lecture, as well. Sybil decided to wander over and ask if they had been in the anatomy course together.
"Excuse me, are we both in the same anatomy course?" Sybil asked.
Two brown eyes met Sybil's blue eyes and the girl lowered her book slowly onto the table. "Oh, yes, I recognize you," the girl said shyly. Her voice was soft and very feminine. Sybil had to hesitate before speaking to ensure the girl had said what she had said.
"Wonderful," Sybil smiled. "My name is Sybil Branson. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"And my name is Sarah Peltzer and it's a pleasure to meet you," the other said. Sybil noticed that Sarah had a slight accent, different from any accent she had heard before. She could not place where the accent was from, though, and was not going to ask.
"So," Sybil began, "you're new here, as well?"
"I am," Sarah said to her. "I'm very happy to be here."
"As am I," Sybil said. Sarah looked at the empty seat next to her and nodded for Sybil to sit. Sybil thanked her and sat in the empty chair next to hers. "Are you from London?" Sybil asked. Sarah's shoulders tensed up at the question, and Sybil immediately regretted asking. Sarah smiled, however, and folded her hands onto her lap.
"Yes, I am, somewhat," she said with uncertainty. She then nodded and repeated herself. "Yes, I am. I am from London. Are you?"
"No," Sybil said with a polite smile. "I'm from Yorkshire."
"I-I don't know where that is, I'm sorry," Sarah said anxiously.
"That's alright," Sybil assured her. "It's North of England." Sybil then pointed in a way she thought was North, but she was sure wasn't.
Sarah laughed lightly at her. "Oh, I've never been North of England. I've only been in London. Oh, and I have been to Southampton for a short while."
"I see," Sybil said to her. She looked at the book on the table and when Sarah noticed Sybil was looking at the book, she reached across and picked it up.
"Have you had your lecture on basic medical knowledge yet?" Sarah asked.
Sybil shook her head. "No, not yet. I believe that's where I'm going to shortly, though. Is it interesting?"
"It sounds as though it's going to be," Sarah said as she looked through the book gingerly. "I really cannot wait to put all that we've learned to practice."
"I feel the same way," Sybil smiled. "Will you be here every day, do you think?"
"I think so," Sarah nodded and set the book down again. "You should join me in here when you have the time. Since we both seem to have the same courses, we could study here together."
Sybil was happy to know that she had just possibly gained a new friend. She knew that the more people she spoke to, the less lonely she would feel.
After a few minutes of speaking about their future anatomy lectures, Sybil grew a curiosity for the book on first aid that was on the table before them. She knew she was to receive the book shortly, but she wanted to look through this one, just so she can see what she would be learning in the lecture that related to first aid. "May I see the book, please?" She asked.
Sarah's eyes widened at Sybil's request but she nodded and slowly slid the book over to Sybil. Sybil, now unsure whether or not to take the book, picked it up and opened it to a random page. The page she opened the book to was about which bandages to use on different wounds. "Interesting," she said quietly as she continued to flip through the pages. She could see out of the corner of her eye that Sarah was watching her. It made Sybil a bit nervous as though Sarah thought she was a thief or prey. Wanting to see just a little bit more, Sybil turned to a random page again. The page, however, was covered by something that had nothing to do with first aid. There was what appeared to be a letter, unfolded and open, that covered the page. Sybil's eyes wandered around the letter and she realized that the letter was not written in English. She had no idea what the letter said, and before she could ask, the letter fell from the book and onto the floor.
Horror filled Sarah's face as she immediately stood and picked up the letter. Sybil watched, full of guilt, and held out the book for Sarah, which she gladly took. "Forgive me, Sarah, I-"
"I-I'm sorry, Nurse Branson, but I must go. I-I just remembered that I have to help with something in the hospital." Sarah looked away from Sybil and left the library in a hurry, leaving Sybil alone in the library.
Sybil could almost cry; she felt so guilty about seeing whatever it was that Sarah did not want her to see. Sybil would not tell anyone, though, after all, what was she to say? Sister Agnes, someone named Sarah Peltzer has a foreign letter with her. She is very secretive about it. Sybil wouldn't dare. The letter could be from family somewhere outside of England. Sybil then had a horrific realization: what if Sarah was corresponding with the enemy? Sybil scolded herself for having such an outlandish idea. It was none of her business, but if what she thought was true, she should tell. No. She wouldn't tell. Sybil thought she was probably falsely accusing Sarah anyway and that the letter had nothing to do with Nazis or any other threat. She would apologize to Sarah the next time she saw her if she ever did see her again. She would understand if Sarah avoided her from now on for being too curious.
Sybil's first lecture on basic medical knowledge went very well and she was most excited about that class. She realized she had learned a lot of the "basic" knowledge from volunteering in a hospital when she was in school in America, but she was willing to relearn and learn all the things that she could.
When Sybil returned to the hospital, it was time to eat. The dining hall was filled with hospital staff, but Sybil was not able to eat yet due to having to go to the kitchen and wash dishes. Grace was already there waiting for her. Two other nurses were there, as well, already washing dishes and talking to one another while Grace and Sybil began to become acquainted with the kitchen.
"How was your lecture, Sybil?" Grace asked as she began to separate plates.
"It went well. What about yours?" Sybil asked. She rolled up the sleeves of her uniform and turned on the sink.
Grace turned on the sink next to hers and the two began to wash the dishes. "Mine went well, too," she sighed as she washed the dishes and then smiled. "I love washing dishes at home. It's the one part of the day when my mother and I are able to spend some time together. It's just the two of us. My younger sisters would leave to play while my father sat and read the newspaper he had already looked through. My mother and I just talk to one another and it's such a lovely time. That's one of the things I miss the most about home; I miss the time with my mother. We're a large family and tending to the younger girls doesn't give us much time to talk throughout the day, but Mother and I always made time."
Sybil imagined that must be a wonderful feeling. She wondered what it would be like just spending time with her own mother. They would be the best of friends, she knew, just as she and her father were. "That sounds lovely, Grace," Sybil said.
"It is," Grace sang. "Do you and your mother wash dishes together, as well, or do something together during the day?" Grace asked.
Sybil stopped washing the dishes for a brief moment and smiled sadly. "Ah, no. My mother and I have never washed dishes together. My father and I have, though, but not my mother and I. My mother passed away," Sybil said slowly.
Grace, suddenly appearing saddened by Sybil's words, turned off the sink and looked at Sybil. "I am so sorry, Sybil. I didn't know; I wouldn't have asked if I-"
"It's alright, Grace," Sybil said with a gentle smile. "You didn't know." Sybil continued to wash the dishes in silence before Grace began talking again.
"What happened, if I may ask? Were you very young?"
Sybil continued to wash the dishes as she slowly began to tell the story of her mother's death. "My father told me that before I was born, my mother had symptoms of eclampsia. A doctor, who was a dear family friend, warned them that my mother should go to a hospital to be treated for eclampsia and to give birth safely. Someone else, I forget his name, was there and said she should remain in the home and that there was no eclampsia. He told my family the symptoms she was experiencing was only because she was about to have a baby."
Grace gasped, certain of the decision that was made. "So she remained in the home?"
"She remained in the home," Sybil sighed. "I was born and all seemed to be perfect, my father said. He and my mother held me together and he was so proud of her, he said. My father always told me that he felt like the luckiest and happiest man in the entire world when he saw my mother hold me for the first time. Nothing could take away that moment from him." Sybil frowned as she imagined the heartbreak and sorrow her father must have felt when the moment was taken away from him by the most unstoppable force: death. She wiped her now tearful eyes with her back of her hand and continued talking. "Shortly later that night, while my family was trying to sleep, my father said that my mother began to have fits. She couldn't breathe and shortly after, she was gone."
Sybil heard Grace sniffle but before she could turn to see her, Sybil was pulled into a tight embrace by Grace. Water from the sink splashed everywhere. "Oh, Sybil, I'm so sorry. Your poor father. Your entire family must have been in such shock!"
"It really did take a toll on all of them," Sybil sighed. "I'm sorry to ruin our first dishwashing experience together with the story."
Grace laughed curtly and pulled away. "That's alright, Sybil. Hearing people's experiences with eclampsia and the like assures me that I want to be a nurse in a maternity ward. A birth should be a happy time and if I can help a mother and child come out of it safely, then I would be most proud of myself."
"I would be proud of you, as well, Grace," Sybil told her. "I don't blame anyone for her death. I used to somewhat blame myself. The medical world was different when I was born, almost twenty years ago. I'm sure now, with our advances, she would have been safe."
"She would have," Grace sighed. She turned the sink on again. "We should hurry and wash these dishes so we can eat."
"Yes, let's."
The discussion Sybil and Grace had left Sybil in a somber mood. Grace had a lecture to get to after they ate, but Sybil did not. She felt suddenly alone and wished she could talk to someone. She left the dining hall and began to wander through the halls, praying that the feeling she felt would leave her. Her prayers were answered when she saw a telephone at the end of one hall. Without hesitation, Sybil ran to it and immediately used it to telephone the only person whose voice she wanted to hear.
"Hello?"
"Papa!" Sybil cried. "I was hoping you would answer."
"Sybil, my love!" Her father's voice calmed Sybil and she smiled at the happiness in his voice. "How are you? How was your first day?"
"I'm alright, Papa," Sybil told him. "My first day went very well. I think I shall very much enjoy my classes and lectures." She paused for a moment. "We had a drill last night, Papa. Sirens woke us all up and oh, they sounded so horrifying. We had to leave our beds and go downstairs. We've even been given gas masks! It's all preparation if we get attacked. It was terrifying."
"Oh, darling, I'm so sorry to hear that. Have faith that nothing will happen." The knowledge of the drills now gave her father an uneasiness that his only child was in London. "You will be safe," was all he could say.
"Thank you, Papa. Oh, George and Marigold visited me yesterday too."
"I know; I was hoping they could cheer you up. I had a feeling that when I left you, you were not completely happy."
"Is that how you felt, Papa?"
Her father hesitated before speaking. "It is. When I boarded the train to go home, I had a moment of doubt. I wondered if I should return to St. Margaret's and bring you back home. I'm still experiencing that if I may be honest. I told myself that you were a responsible young woman and that I have to let you experience life without me." Sybil heard her father sigh. "I miss you so much, darling." His voice was filled with sadness now, and Sybil stood helplessly, wishing there was a way she could be with her father right now and hug him.
"I miss you too, Papa," she said quietly.
"I miss having you here at Downton. In the brief time that you've been gone, I've realized how empty my life would have been if it weren't for you. I miss hearing the sound of your voice and seeing you with your cousins. I miss my beautiful little girl."
Sybil smiled sadly into the telephone and leaned against the wall. "Oh, Papa. We shall be reunited soon. I don't have anything to do on Sundays and I remember you said that you were going to come and visit me. Are you still planning on that?"
"On Sunday? Yes, I am. I'm already looking forward to it. The photographs we all took should be ready by then. I'll bring them to you."
"I can't wait to see them," Sybil said. "Any word from Edward?"
"None. George leaves tomorrow, I believe. He and Edward are meeting each other somewhere, I can't remember. They have to do a medical examination before they report for training, I heard George say."
"Oh, well, I wish them both luck. Perhaps I could speak to Edward by telephone or he could even come and visit soon then."
"I'll tell George to tell him."
"Thank you, Papa." Sybil could hear someone entering the hallway and when she turned to see who it was, Sister Agnes was standing before her with crossed arms. "I have to go, Papa," Sybil said quickly. "I love you!"
"I love you too, Sybbie. I hope to talk again soon."
Sybil placed the receiver back onto the telephone and turned around to face Sister Agnes. "Telephone calls are for nurses-in-training that do not have anything to do," Sister Agnes began to say. "Nurses-in-training should always have something to do. Is there anything better that you can be doing Nurse-?"
"Branson," Sybil answered.
"Nurse Branson," Sister Agnes said.
"Oh, Branson." Sister Agnes now seemed surprised with whom she was speaking to. "You're the granddaughter of the Earl of Grantham, are you not?"
Sybil nodded nervously. "Yes, I am, though I really prefer that that information not be revealed."
"Do not worry. I am so sorry that I did not realize who you were. Isobel Grey has told me so much about you. Come to my office. We shall have a nice brief chat."
Reluctantly, Sybil followed Sister Agnes into her office and was offered a seat in front of her desk. Her office walls were filled with certificates and photographs of groups of young nurses who had just completed their training. "So, Nurse Branson, when your aunt contacted me and told me that you were interested in becoming a nurse, I was honestly surprised. The granddaughter of the Earl of Grantham wants to come to London to aid in the war. I heard your mother also received training during the Great War to become a nurse."
"She did," Sybil responded. "Not here, though. I just want to be able to help those in need, especially during this war. I want to make myself useful."
Sister Agnes smiled and sat in her own seat. "I can see that you have a good heart, Nurse Branson, just like your mother, I imagine. Is she still practicing as a nurse?"
Sybil sighed softly. "No, she passed away when I was born. I believe she left the practice after she married my father. She made a difference in many lives during her time as a nurse, though."
"I'm sure she did. Nurse Branson, what task have you been given for this week?"
"Oh, I was assigned to wash dishes." Sister Agnes appeared mortified. She then laughed nervously and shook her head. "No, no, that won't do. I can't have the granddaughter of the Earl of Grantham washing dishes. How embarrassing for me if your family should find out." Sister Agnes opened her drawer and took out a large book filled with charts and notes. She turned a page and looked down a list.
Sybil leaned forward slightly in her seat. "Sister Agnes, I really do not mind washing dishes. It's relaxing, honestly. I don't want to be favored or exempt from certain tasks just because of my family.."
"Nonsense. I will have someone else take your place for washing dishes. You will do something else far more suitable," Sister Agnes said. "Let me just look through my list here and see what task I could give you instead."
"Really, Sister Agnes, please don't-"
"That's enough, Nurse Branson," Sister Agnes warned. "Ah, here. You shall be assisting with organizing our closet of medical supplies. I believe Nurse Woodhams will be assisting you with that. She's one of our newly trained nurses. She completed training last year and has gotten married since then but she has returned and is eager to help our new girls. She's very kind; I'm sure you will enjoy working with her."
Sybil had not been listening fully to what Sister Agnes had been saying. She was mainly focused on how she would tell Grace that she would no longer be washing dishes with her. Would Grace understand? The last thing she wanted to do was cause Grace to become confused and upset with her. "Sister Agnes-"
"You will help with organizing the closets and that is final, Nurse Branson." She began to write Sybil's name down in her book. There was no point in arguing against it anymore. When excused, Sybil left Sister Agnes' office with the anticipation of how she would tell Grace.
Sybil returned to her room to find many of the other girls seated on their beds, reading and looking through their new books. Sybil greeted them and went to her own bed. She set her satchel down and noticed something was on her resting on top of her pillow. It was a letter. She picked it up and turned to the other girls. "Is this from one of you?"
"The mail arrived," one girl said. I saw that your name was on one of the letters, so I brought it up for you."
"Oh, thank you very much," Sybil smiled. She sat on her bed and began to open the letter. She immediately looked to see whom it was from, and the name written made her heart began to pound. "Edward," Sybil breathed.
Without thinking, Sybil placed one hand over her heart and began to read the letter.
September 17th, 1939
Sybil was surprised at the date the letter was written. If it was written on the 17th of September, it meant that it was written yesterday. She could not believe how fast the mail traveled.
Dearest Sybil,
Please excuse my messy handwriting in this letter.
Sybil laughed quietly at the informal and amusing opening of the letter. She did not find his handwriting messy; to her, it was perfect.
I'm sure you are surprised by this letter. Your father had given me the address to the hospital you are at when he left me at the train station.
Sybil had not been told by her father that Edward had her address and she felt extreme gratitude to her father for giving it to him. If he had not done that, Edward would not know where Sybil was at all.
I am writing this in a rush because I was just told by a neighbor of mine that he is going to London for a short time. My neighbor was kind enough to agree to deliver this letter to St. Margaret's hospital so that you could receive it immediately.
How are you, Syb? Not a day goes by when I do not think of you. I can't stop thinking about the last time I saw you and the time we spent in the upstairs library talking and being with one another. I imagine you're in a big hospital where you're going to learn so much. I hope everyone there is treating you well and that you are always safe. Your safety is what I am most concerned about, but that is why I am going to become a soldier: to ensure that those I care about are safe.
The traveling book you gave me was a very thoughtful gift. I find myself looking through it over and over again. I'm going to take it with me to training so that I can plan future travels for after the war. How does a relaxing week on the beaches of Australia sound? I would love to experience that with someone like you.
Sybil blushed and set the letter down for a brief moment. She read the letter much slower now, taking in each word.
My mother is quite curious about you. She saw the message you wrote for me at the front of the book and questioned me as to who you are. She thinks you sound like a lovely girl. I think you and her should meet sometime soon. You both would get along well, I think. As you can imagine, she is extremely worried about me leaving for training. She doesn't want me to end up like my father. It can't be stopped, though. I leave with George on Tuesday for our medical examinations. Shortly after, I assume that we shall leave for training. I am nervous but it is the right thing to do.
I must end this letter now and I don't suppose you should write back to me, for I won't be home to receive your letter. I'll write to you again once I know when I can go to London and see you. As soon as I know my schedule for training, I will visit you. I promise. We can spend the entire day together exploring London. Perhaps we can even go out dancing.
Take care, Sybil. Have hope that we shall see one another again very soon.
Yours,
Edward Trent
Sybil read the letter once more before setting it down. Edward was planning on going to London to see her and the idea of that happening made her heart flutter. She sighed happily and lay back on the bed gently.
"What is that?"
Sybil sat up and saw that Grace had arrived and was setting her things down on her bed. "Is that a letter?" She asked.
"It is," Sybil nodded.
Grace smiled and sat on her bed. "From the look on your face, I think the letter may be from someone special. Is it?"
"Yes," Sybil smiled and placed the letter on her nightstand. "He's leaving for training soon but he may come and see me."
Grace clapped. "How exciting! What is his name?"
"His name is Edward," Sybil answered.
"What a handsome name," Grace teased. "I do hope he comes to London to see you. He must like you very much."
Sybil blushed and placed the letter underneath the photograph she had of her mother. "I believe he does," she said.
Since they were both together, Sybil knew that now was the time to tell Grace that she would no longer be washing dishes with her. She looked at her friend and sighed. "Ah, Grace, Sister Agnes assigned me to a different task this week." Sybil could see that Grace was confused.
"I don't understand," Grace said. "You were supposed to be washing dishes, why would she change that?"
"I don't know," Sybil lied. She felt terrible for lying but she wasn't completely comfortable with telling the truth about herself yet, especially since Sister Agnes used Sybil's family status as an excuse to not make her wash dishes. "She stopped me in the hallway and asked if I was Sybil Branson, and I told her I was. She then told me that I was no longer washing dishes and that I was to help a nurse organize closets or something of that sort. I believe there was a mistake when assigning tasks."
"Oh," Grace said. "Well, that's alright, I suppose." Grace lay down on her own bed and turned away from Sybil.
"Grace, you're upset," Sybil said.
Grace shook her head. "I'm not upset. I'm only confused as to why she would reassign your task, that's all. I'm going to take a nap before dinner."
"I'm sorry," Sybil sighed. Grace didn't respond to her, which left Sybil feeling somewhat saddened. She took her first aid book from her satchel and looked through it quietly as a distraction, but her mind eventually wandered elsewhere. She kept returning to the letter Edward had written to her and she prayed that she would be able to see him very soon.
Back at Downton Abbey, tensions were high as Tom Branson's sister-in-law, Mary, followed her son, George, around asking him if he was prepared for what was ahead of him. Tom felt sorry for his nephew, but there was nothing he could do to stop his mother from pestering him. He went to the library for an escape filled with peace and quiet from the chaotic atmosphere of the household. Robert Crawley was standing in front of the window and looking out at his estate. "Hello, Robert," Tom greeted quietly so that he would not startle him. Robert turned away from the window and nodded at his son-in-law.
"Hello, Tom. How are things out there?"
"The same as earlier, I'm afraid," Tom chuckled as he sat down on the sofa. "I think Henry made a great escape from the situation. Poor, George."
"Indeed," Robert sighed. "Have you spoken to Sybbie since London? I've been thinking about her all day today."
"I have. I spoke to her recently, as a matter of fact."
Robert went to the fireplace mantel and faced Tom to hear all about his conversation with Sybil. "And how is she? Is she enjoying London?"
"She seems to be doing well. I'm worried, though, Robert. She told me that they had a drill last night for an air raid attack on London. They were even given gas masks. How frightening it must all be for her. I'm not even in London and I feel the same fear she's feeling. I'm beginning to wonder if leaving her there was a mistake. I don't want Sybbie to get hurt." Tom stood from the seat and went to the window. He saw his reflection in the window. His eyes were full of worry and it made him appear older. He turned away from the window and looked back at Robert. "I wonder what Sybil would say to me now if she were alive. Would she have agreed to send our little girl that far away in times like this or would she be angry with me for even suggesting it?"
A sigh escaped Robert Crawley. "I think," he began, "I think Sybil would say that sending her to London was the right choice. She would want Sybbie to grow in her education and independence and I'm sure Sybil would be just as worried for her as you and all of us are. Sybbie has a strong mother and father, I think she will be alright."
Tom smiled and felt grateful for Robert's assuring words. "Thank you, Robert. That truly does mean a lot to me, and I'm sure it means a lot to Sybil too."
"I'm happy it does," Robert said. "Perhaps this war won't even touch London. Did you read that Soviet troops have entered Poland?"
"I did," Tom nodded. "All is in chaos there right now."
"Indeed, it is," Robert frowned. "All is ugly in times of war. So much death and destruction happened in the Great War and I pray it doesn't happen again, but it has already started. I don't want to lose any of our family and friends to this war as we did in the Great War. I especially don't want to lose my grandchildren. Once George is gone, we shall have no control. At least Marigold is remaining with us. I won't let her go off to anywhere outside of Downton or Northumberland."
"I'm sure when the war ends, we shall all, including Sybil and George, be here and life will continue on as it always has been for us."
"That's another reason why I worry, Tom," Robert confessed. "If this war is anything like the Great War, and Sybil, George, and the rest of us are all safe and together here at the end of it, it won't be the same. If George is thrown into a battle and if Sybil is faced with the horrors of a hospital during wartime, they will not be the same."
"Donk?"
Tom and Robert both turned toward the library entrance and saw Marigold and George. They both appeared to have worried looks on their faces, but Marigold smiled as though they hadn't heard what was being said, but Tom knew they had heard everything. "I believe dinner is to be served now," Marigold announced. Tom stood from his seat and looked at Robert. "Shall we?"
"I am quite hungry," Robert said as he went to his grandchildren. He put his arms around each of them and sighed. "Well, let's go eat. George, are you ready for tomorrow?"
"Of course, Donk. Mother doesn't think I am, but I am!"
George's voice began to fade away as he left with his grandfather and cousin. Tom remained in the library a few moments more to take in what Robert had just said to him. He knew that the youthfulness George and Sybil had about them would be possibly tarnished by war but he refused to believe that nothing would be the same after the war. Everything would remain the same, Tom told himself, because nothing could change the true love a family had for one another.
