Chapter 2:

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August 16th, 1916

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"If tis nae a trouble, I will continue tae pay ye weekly." Isobel passed six shillings (i) into the hand of her landlady, Charlotte Biggins, who'd already demonstrated a willingness to share lots of marital advice, most of which was rather daunting. The matronly lady wore her grizzled hair in sausage curls around her black bonnet. She could be chipper, but tended toward an anxious disposition, and when fretting, her round cheeks would give a little quiver. They were quivering now.

"How is your man?" she asked in her deep, raspy voice.

Isobel found herself smiling. "He's such a patient soul. He cannae yet hear or see verra much but he has a strong belief that he will get better."

"It is good that he has faith."

"Oh, yes."

"When will he come here?"

"I dinnae ken, but I fear the hospitals will soon be badly overcrowded and they'll be wanting his bed."

"It is bad in the Somme (ii)."

"Yes." Isobel drifted quietly to the front door and put on her new straw hat. The bombs in the north of France were so loud that they could be heard in London. Thousands of injured men were languishing in the Somme. (iii) Those who survived might not be evacuated for months. They had to be taken from dugout trench hospitals to field hospitals, then to clearing hospitals, to base hospitals and then to the hospital ships back to Blighty. Thanks to his officer's uniform, Edward had been cleared amazingly quickly. It had helped that while his coma and injuries were debilitating, they were not considered as lethal as broken bones or amputated limbs would have been. Isobel quietly thanked God that he wasn't disfigured. So many of the men in Number Six Hospital had horrific facial injuries and burns caused by bombs and gas.

On the other side of the coin, Eddie had been rescued because someone thought he would be able to return to duty. If he were to recover his vision, he would be sent back. Just the thought of it paralyzed her with dread. But if he remained functionally blind, what would his life be like? She desperately wanted to be seen. And what if they should have children? Isobel hardly knew what to pray for.

Lost in thought, she tripped and hopped away as a large gentleman bumped into her from behind. He smiled kindly and tipped his hat to her.

"Sorry, Nurse. Are you all right?"

Isobel nodded curtly, her lips pressed together. The man tipped his hat again and moved on. Isobel began to tremble, and cursed herself. There were a lot of men in the world and the majority of them were decent. If truth be told, she had often preferred the company of men, disdaining the feminine tendency to gossip and extol the wonders of fashion. Working in the base hospital had enabled her to indulge her interests with like-minded people. And she enjoyed the camaraderie of the soldiers.

Yes, there were a lot of good, honest men. Eddie was good. Tully was good. The Colonel, too. She counted up men she trusted but redoubled her pace and reached the hospital in no time at all.

A long queue of injured men was being brought in and the odour of burnt flesh and gangrene was rank. She marched up the crowded steps, steeling her heart against the sight of freshly-acquired patients lying on stretchers from the steps all the way to the wards.

A blond Tommy smoking a cigarette threw his arm around her neck. "Allo, love! How about a kiss?"

Isobel blanched and tried to push him away. "Help me!"

"Oh, come on, then!" He held her firmly while she struggled.

"Help!"

A nearby doctor stood up. "You there! Leave this hospital at once!"

"But sir—"

"Be off with you! Try your luck at another hospital and mind your manners next time!"

"Fuck off, you bastard!" Nonetheless, he took his hands off of Isobel—but not before kissing her.

"Corporal?" the doctor bellowed, snatching her up as her knees gave way.

A new man scurried over. "Yes, sir, Major!"

"This soldier is to be written up for insubordination. Take his information down and if he causes any more trouble, take him into custody!"

"I didn't mean no trouble," the man grumbled.

"Well, you've got it!" The doctor set Isobel down and offered her his arm. She took it gladly and tried to stop hyperventilating. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

She wiped her mouth. "I want my husband."

"Is he here?"

"Yes, he's a patient."

Groups of doctors and nurses performed triage and pinned notes to each man's clothing or blankets. At least in Blighty, even if their admission and treatment was delayed, they knew they were going to be treated. (iv) Isobel was glad she'd left Private Barker in her room. He'd have killed the poor fellows with affection.

The charge nurse plucked her way through the men. "Nurse Masen?"

"Yes?"

"Your husband's doctor would like a word with you, ma'am."

Isobel reeled. "Eddie…" Once again, the major had to hold her up.

The nurse smiled. "Oh, he's fine! I'm sorry I gave you a turn. I think Dr. Marcus wants to know whether you can take him home."

Isobel felt the blood seep back into her limbs. "Oh, thank God."

The major beamed. "There's a piece of good news for you, ma'am! Are you all right now?"

"Yes, thank you for your trouble."

"No trouble at all." He touched his finger to his forehead and went back to his patient. Isobel turned to the charge nurse.

"Where is Dr. Marcus?"

"In Surgery Four, ma'am. May I ask you to scrub in?"

"Of course."

The nurse led Isobel to the cleansing station outside the surgeries. Isobel scrubbed her hands and put on a mask. She pushed open the door to the surgery. The stenches of ether, carbolic, blood, vomit and putrefaction were overwhelming. At least they had ether.

"Yes, Nurse?" the surgeon barked as he sawed through a man's femur.

"Dr. Marcus, I'm Mrs. Edward Masen."

"Masen… Ah, yes. The blind man. He's healing nicely. We can't really do much more for him here. Do you think you can care for him at home?" The patient's gangrene-blackened leg fell to the floor with a wet thunk. Dr. Marcus straightened up, the bone saw dripping with gore, while his yeoman nurses cleaned up the mess.

There was more risk to Edward from living with bacteria in the hospital than there could possibly be at home. "Yes, sir."

Dr. Marcus closed a flap of flesh over the end of the patient's bone. A QAIMN prepared a needle and suture. "When?"

"Now?"

"Get his nurse and tell her to bring me the paperwork."

"Yes, sir." Isobel practically ran from the foul-smelling room. She found Jessy conversing with another QAIMN overtop of a man who'd had his fingers and toes removed and genitals debrided, likely for gangrene acquired in wet trenches.

"The wounds are to be disinfected," Jessy said, "and then Dr. Marcus will do the stitches. Make sure the operating room is completely disinfected with Lysol before this man goes back in."

"Yes, ma'am."

Isobel shuddered. She could see his insides. That could have been Eddie! How could any man live through that? Why would he want to?

"Jessy?" Isobel murmured.

The Senior Nurse looked up from her patient's chart. "Hello, Bella. Let me just finish up here, and—"

"Dr. Marcus wishes you to bring him Eddie's papers. He's in Surgery Four."

Jessy beamed. "Is Eddie going home?"

"Yes."

"Oh, excellent! I thought he would be. I've written up instructions already and I've packed most of his things. As soon as I've done with this man, I'll get the chart, ask for further instructions and get Dr. Marcus to sign the discharge papers."

"All right. Where is Eddie?"

"In the conservatory as usual."

"Thank you." Isobel marched through the hallways to the conservatory and found her husband attempting to play the piano with his left hand. His forehead rested against the top. He was still profoundly deaf but played very well –only missing the occasional note—and none of the men were complaining.

Isobel walked up behind him and tugged on his hair. Eddie jumped a mile, hitting the wrong keys, then swivelled on his stool with a laugh and embraced her.

"Darling!"

His vitality penetrated her bones. Supressing a shudder, she stroked back his hair. "Ye had better hope so!"

Of course, he couldn't hear her. The doctors thought his eardrums were pierced but not torn, but healing was slow to happen. It had been six weeks since Eddie'd been blown up. There was shrapnel embedded in his eyes. He could pick out shapes at a distance of three to four inches, but nobody knew if his vision would get better or worse. Every once in a while, his eyes would weep watery blood and he'd cry out a speck of metal or bone (v).

Isobel took his hands and tugged. "Come on, my love."

"Oh! Where are we going?" Eddie liked to talk, probably to assuage his own loneliness, but unless she got a horn and shouted in his ear, he wasn't going to learn anything if she answered. Isobel tucked his hand into her elbow and tears stung her eyes.

I will fall without you, darling man.

He pressed himself against her side, enthused as always by her presence, and moved to brush his lips over her hair, only to be prevented by her hat.

"Oh, bugger," she whispered. The entire hallway was now flooded with injured men. There was no way to get Eddie back to his bed without stepping on people. With a sigh, she took him back to the piano.

He smirked at her. "That was exciting. You should take me on walks more often. Alleviates the boredom."

She ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head. "I'll be back."

It took Isobel ten minutes to pick her way through the layer of bodies to Edward's cot, and when she reached it, she found another man in his bed, wrapped up in his new thin cotton quilt. For a moment, fury choked her. Then it drained to be replaced by pity. The man's face was obscured by bandages. He was cuddling the quilt, sobbing, and his thumb was in his mouth.

Jessy appeared at the end of the bed. "So, you're cleared to go. Everything is packed in Eddie's new kit. I've put some bandages and disinfectant in there for you, and the splint and dressing on his hand were changed this morning."

"Thank you."

"Make sure the Old Sweats' Office (vi) knows where you are so he can get his pension (vii). Oh, dear! Jimmy's got Eddie's quilt. Here—"

Isobel placed her hand on Jessy's arm. "No, don't."

"Don't you want it?"

"I think it's time for fresh beginnings."

"About that."

Isobel waited.

"I didn't want to worry you. Eddie's screaming half the night. Do you want a prescription for something to make him sleep?"

"No."

"Good." Jessy leaned closer to whisper, "You don't need him addicted. So many men leave here on opiates."

"I know."

Jessy frowned. "Where is Eddie?"

"The hallway's full of stretchers. I'll never get him through."

Jessy called an orderly, issued instructions and snapped her fingers. Soon, a laughing Eddie appeared in the arms of a gigantic man, who set him on his feet beside them. "All right, Bella," Jessy said. "Get him dressed and then Felix will carry his things outside for you. And make sure you take the cane."

"Right. Thank you, Jessy. For everything."

Eddie sat down on the man in the bed, hopped sideways and grunted in surprise. "Sorry!" He patted the man, then frowned. "Hey, this is my bed." The man started to rock himself and wail. Isobel took her husband's hand, placed it on her face and shook her head.

"What's going on?" he asked eagerly.

"Never mind, Jimmy." Isobel tucked the man in. "This is your bed, now. And yer quilt. Eddie is going home today." The man stopped rocking and sighed. He murmured something that resembled a thank you.

Isobel unbuttoned Edward's cotton sweater and he slipped it off. She tugged at his pyjama top and he undid his buttons. Happily, his linen undershirt looked fresh.

She fed his arms into his summer uniform shirt, gently pulled his bandaged hand through, and lined up the buttons for him. His expression cleared. "Are we leaving?" He held out his palm, and she pressed her face against it and nodded. She turned her face into his palm and kissed it.

"We're going? Where are we going?" He fumbled with the buttons and flung out his hands. "Oh, God help me, I don't care as long as it's out of here!"

Isobel heartily agreed. She was attempting to button buttons for him when he tugged the drawstring on his pyjama pants, hooked in his thumb and pulled them down. Isobel knelt at his feet and nudged his shin so that he would lift his foot to step into his drawers. He took over, hoisting them up before she could get a decent glimpse of him.

Well, there would be plenty of time for that later.

Eddie reached out for his summer trousers and Isobel handed them over. Before she could say, "Bob's yer uncle," (viii) he was fully dressed, save the blue puttees. Evidently, he didn't want to bother with them. Isobel shoved them in his kit. Felix handed Edward a long, black cane and hoisted his pack. Jessy took Edward's uninjured left hand and shook it.

"Goodbye, Lieutenant. Don't come back."

Eddie started to lean toward her but hesitated, and peered at her from a distance instead. "Thank you… Nurse, for bringing me my Bella, and taking care of me."

Jessy patted his arm. "Such a sweet man." She reached for Isobel's hand and held it. "Bless you both. I wish you every happiness."

"Thank you, Jessy," Isobel said.

"Will you write to me?"

"Yes, of course."

Isobel began to lead Eddie out of the ward, but again, the halls were congested with noisy men. Surely no one else would touch her, she told herself, scarcely able to breathe. Felix simply took away Eddie's cane, handed it to Isobel, hoisted Eddie into a fireman's carry and hauled him and his backpack outside. Isobel followed on his heels. Eddie's cap fell off and she snatched it up. This time, Eddie didn't laugh; as his hand brushed bodies, he'd realized that there was nowhere safe to step because there were too many enlisted men on the floor.

Outside on the lawn, ambulatory men were milling about. Felix set Eddie on his feet and bumped him gently with the 80-pound backpack.

A cheeky corporal gave him a sloppy salute. "Oi, Lieutenant! Goin' ome, are yer?"

"That's right, he's been discharged," Felix said cheerfully. "Know him, do you?"

"Nah, just bein' friendly." He looked at Eddie curiously.

"He's stone deaf. Whizzbang."

"Blimey. Sodding (ix) Krauts." The corporal gave Edward a pat on the arm.

"Oh, hello." Eddie stuck out his hand and the corporal shook it energetically.

"Congrats on goin' ome, Ole Sweat."

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you."

The man leaned in and shouted, "Welcome 'ome, sir!"

"Thank you." Eddie felt for the straps of his pack and shifted it onto his back.

Isobel reached out in a panic. "That's too heavy!" Felix touched her hand with the tips of his fingers and she released her hold on the huge pack.

"Begging your pardon, missus, but he'll be happier if you let him manage that."

"But he's been in the hospital for six weeks!"

"All the better reason to let him gather his strength. Look at him, ma'am. There might not be any bloom to him, but he's a lot fatter than when he came in and he doesn't seem to be in much pain."

"But if he falls—"

"He will get up again." The orderly's eyes crinkled when he smiled. "He'll love a walk. He's not an invalid, ma'am, he's young and he has a very sharp mind. You'll need to keep him busy. Wear him out."

Eddie's hair ruffled in the breeze. He took in a deep breath and turned his face up to the sun. A faint smile graced his lips. He looked so handsome that Isobel's heart flipped.

"Of course," she murmured, setting his cap on his head. He reached up, set it straight and waited expectantly.

"You must allow him to do as much for himself as he can," Felix advised. "I have a brother who is blind. He tunes pianos. Needs a bit of a hand to get around new places, but he has a wife and three children, now."

"That's wonderful."

Eddie turned toward Isobel. "What's the plan, wife? We're not on the road, are we? The ground's too soft."

"Do you want me to hail a cab?" Felix asked.

"No, the boarding house is only a few blocks away." Isobel took Eddie's injured hand and tucked it in the crook of her arm.

Felix clapped Edward lightly on the shoulder. "Godspeed."

Edward gave him a cheeky salute, cane in hand. "Thanks for the lift, Ensign. Guess you'll have to find somebody else to lug about, now."

"I'm going to miss your stories, sir."

Isobel's jaw dropped. "How did he know it was you?"

"First of all, because I always touch the deafblind the same way as a greeting before I do anything to them. And second, because I'm so tall. He knows my rank because I showed him my badges. It helps the deafblind to have names for people. I've noticed you always stroke his hair when you greet him, missus, and ruffle it and kiss him on the head when you leave. You'll want to continue that."

"Thank you, Felix."

"My pleasure, ma'am. God bless!"

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i The average cost to rent a room in London, UK was 2 to 6 shillings a week in 1916. I am assuming it was a little bit cheaper in Brighton, so I have estimated 6 shillings would be enough to provide a fairly nice room and board for a young married couple. You could buy a loaf of bread for a penny. A week's groceries for what we would consider a middle class family of twelve (yeah, not unusual) would cost between one and two pounds sterling.

ii The Battle of the Somme was actually a group of battles, fought between July 1, 1916 and November 18, 1916. By its end, the Somme was the first offensive to fully employ air raids and tanks. Technically, the fighting dragged on longer, but that was the official cut-off date. After that, the weather got so bad that both sides' struggle was to simply make it through the winter. In January, the German commanders decided to retreat to the Hindenberg Line because they didn't think their soldiers could endure another battle. The Allies advanced 16 km overall.

Although the British soldiers were the freshest and brightest soldiers on the field (the French having been worn out by previous fighting), Kitchener's new British recruits had no experience of warfare. Germany's soldiers were already exhausted by the time the offensive began, but had much more experience in wartime soldiering than the Brits did. There were heavy casualties on both sides—over a million altogether—making this one of the bloodiest battles in history up to that time. People still question the value of the offensive since neither side was a clear winner or loser, but most historians agree that the German army was weakened to such a degree that it was the beginning of the end for Germany.

iii One of the surviving Blue Puttees from Beaumont-Hamel said he was shot, then shot three more times as he tried to crawl back to his trench, where he awaited rescue for another fifteen hours. That was typical in the Battle of the Somme.

iv When men were sent through triage at trench hospitals and casualty clearing stations, a note was pinned to their jackets stating their priority. Some men's notes read, "Not expected to live." Survivors and medical staff reported that injured men could easily read their fates on those notes.

v During explosions, not only shards of rock, metal and wood, but the clothing, bone fragments and teeth of bomb victims and animals might be embedded in the bodies of those nearby.

vi Old Sweats: veterans

vii Pensions: Commonwealth soldiers were entitled to a Disability Pension if they received a permanent disability in the war. As well, there were pensions available for soldiers' widows and dependent children. The widow and children of a soldier who died in battle would receive their pensions for the rest of their lives—the time they were deprived of their loved one.

viii Bob's yer uncle: old British expression meaning, "And that's it."

ix Sodding/sod all/sod it/sod off: Victorian slang that's endured virtually unchanged. Sod is the shortened word 'sodomite.' It can be used interchangeably anywhere one might use the F word.