Disclaimer: My ideas thanks to the beautiful book written by Ian McEwan. Thank God he wrote such a masterpiece

Chapter 2: Working on the Ward

"Sister Tallis?" The questioning tone of the little girl from the country that previously would have stirred up long forgotten warmth of home now only grated on her. Its innocence and soft infliction at the end had no place in her head, or war for that matter and although it was not the girl fault she had not so openly suffered it angered Cecilia as I made her inclined to think of Briony.

Turning to look at the offending voice her eyes played horrendous tricks on her. She felt like some of her patients, hallucinated their worst fears, then reality, then their greatest loves in such a bipolar manner that allowed their own minds and not just the poisoning in their blood eventually kill them. Before her stood Briony in her filthy white dress looking up to her sister with expectations that are always so unfairly bestowed upon the older sister. Why did she demand her to be respectable for her own self-growth? Briony would not behave so for her. She had called her sister. Inwardly she could not help laughing for she had surely severed all right she had to demand that relationship when she had spoken to the police and woven her story that made such dramatic, literary sense in her head and been complete insanity in the real world. Looking at her bare feet on the sanitised floor only made her grow even angrier.

"Sister Tallis?" the voice said again. This time it was a little louder and looking straight at her now stood the real owner of the voice. A feeble girl with pale blond ringlet hair that waved unnatural as it strained against the conformity of the nurses bun. Shocked by the reality before her Cecilia stood quiet again for a moment. She had no experience of how grief affected the human mind. All her patients where either dead before their sanity could be evaluated or they were moved on out so more cases could be brought in. Those she knew to be truly suffering mentally were so unresponsive it was hard for her to treat them, let alone delve into their deeper feelings. All the anatomical understanding could not prepare the mind for the full force of its emotions. "How ironic," Cecilia thought, "that the mind could cause its own down fall and then not comprehend how or why it was doing so."

Finally escaping from her own mind Cecilia steadily brought herself back to reality. The shining floors, the wooden table with the common teapot, the cup of tea that shook in her hand and the country Nurse that stood before her waiting with an anxious look for the response of her Sister.

Trying not to give the tell-tale signs of her previous far away mind Cecilia applied her Nightingale tone that seemed to comfort the Nurse's as a constant in this time of disorder.

"Yes, Nurse Jennings what are you in need of?" Cecilia turned to the girl, her eyebrow raised in a looking of expectant waiting, as if it was the Nurse which had caused a delay in their conversation.

"Ma'am there is a Private whom we are in need of your authority to calm down so that we can threat him." Here request was reasonable yet she pitied the solider, why should he be made to be quiet after all he had been through? His ears ringing with the sounds of death and his eyes bathed in the blood of all those that he had left to die out of need for self-survival.

"Just medically sedate him." Cecilia stated. The Nurse looked almost hurt at her refusal for help, the expectations of her senior not being met by Sister Tallis. The country girl's eyes demanded and explanation of the Sisters thought process.

"After all he has been though do you think the private needs to be told by people who could not begin to imagine what he has seen that his fuss is unnecessary and unproductive?" Cecilia's tone was sinister and it made the girl bow her head in shame, as if she should have thought of that herself.

"Which patient is it?" Cecilia asked, demanding more out of the girl who was already regretting her decision in coming to the Ward Sister.

"Private Gaunt, ma'am." The girl answered raising her eyes to show Cecilia of her certainty in that matter, "the solider with the protruding femur and high fever."

Cecilia scanned the injured in her head until she placed the solider to the injury. Private Gaunt had been quiet yesterday at first admission. Biting his tongue in heroic fashion as antiseptic alcohol burnt his nerve endings whilst the girls had tried to prevent the infections spreading around his body. The pain was controlled whilst the mind was still intact, but today it seemed that fever had taken him and his mind to a different place.

Cecilia turned from the girl and placed her tea down gently on the counter and closed her eyes sighing inaudibly.

"Sedate him, save him from his own mind for a while to allow his body to fight the infection. I'll assess him when he wakes."

Nurse Jennings accepted Sister Tallis' orders and bobbed her head before walking swiftly out of the room. Cecilia watched her go. She would not run, for there was no fire or haemorrhages that she knew of and so the sound of her heels retreated steadily down the corridor, like the cool tap of a type writer.

Cecilia knew she had been harsh on the girl but how could she evoke such vivid imagines of Briony without her permission? And demand better behaviour from her just because of her elevated rank? They were all human, and they were all suffering, just some more than others.

Like her patients Cecilia now wished to get away from her own mind and cutting her break short through the rest of her tea down her throat, enjoying the way the burning reminded her that she was still capable of feeling, and strode out the door.

Coming down the corridor she noted the mark of wheels of a trolley that had been hurried towards the lift; haemorrhage. The next Nurse she saw that looked idle would need to clean it up. As she walked down the corridor she approached the porter who pushed a trolley with a cloth covered body towards her and out of the hospital, making room for another patient.

Following the trolley was another Sister, her head slightly sunk from its elevated manner as she easily lowered her authority around a woman of equal rank.

Although it was not felt between the ranks there was a mutual respect between people of the same rank. This was one of the only reasons why Cecilia was able to go on. She had no family who she trusted and she had no hope. That's what Robbie had been, hope for the future. A brighter future without war and without lies. And when your only reason for hoping is ripped away from you the only thing that you can keep doing is mechanically continue and allow the time to pass as you carry out the same practised routine.

Finally turning onto the ward Cecilia pulled herself out of her own mind and took in a deep breath. The smell that was present was enough to clear anyone's mind, with the pungent smell of rotting flesh, metallic smell of congealing blood and a strong smell of alcohol the ward was a grim place to be. Brushing down her apron so that it looked stiff and well laundered Cecilia allowed her heels to click loudly as she walked into the room, alerting the junior nurses of her presence. Mourning in front of them was not an option. They all had a job to do, and she was going to do it to the best of her ability, for them and for Robbie. Preventing more people from dying was the only thing that kept her going. It was all that she could do.