Hope - Lesley Pearse [213]
But he wasn’t a real man then, he had still been in essence the lad who had been the butt of every joke at medical school. It still made him smart that he’d allowed Uncle Abel to bully him, and that he hadn’t put his foot down to stop Hope being sent to work at St Peter’s.
He’d joined the army purely because it was a way of getting out from under his uncle, not because he was brave. He hadn’t thought then that he’d be pushed into active service, and if he had, he would have run a mile. He’d had a rosy little picture in his mind of being the medical officer attached to a barracks, and that in a couple of years he’d be able to marry Hope and raise a few children.
Yet what he hadn’t expected was that he would find his niche in the army. Sick men didn’t need another tough Sergeant Major yelling at them, they wanted someone who listened to them and had the knowledge to make them well again. And neither officers nor rank and file cared about his background or financial or social standing. To them he was a first-class doctor and they felt fortunate to have him with their regiment.
Feeling appreciated, having his opinions valued and his medical skills admired, had made him lose his timidity. He found he was able to stand against injustice and former bad medical practices. The harshness of army life out in South Africa had toughened him up too and the Regimental Surgeon Meadows who had come back to marry Hope Renton was a very different man to the one who had been scared to death that first time he walked through Lewins Mead.
He had said as they set off on their honeymoon that he thought it was time Hope contacted her family, and he had meant it. But of course he hadn’t known then that just a couple of weeks later they’d be bound for the Black Sea.
Had he known what hell was in store for them, he wouldn’t have let Hope come. But what was done, was done, and she had proved invaluable. All they could do now was slog on in the hope that things might improve. He supposed he’d also have to get used to the idea that Captain Angus Pettigrew was going to continue to be as irritating as a louse.
‘How are the wounds?’ Bennett asked as he got within speaking distance of Angus.
‘Pretty well healed now, thank you, though the leg is still a bit stiff,’ Angus grinned. He was in full uniform, and it was clearly almost new for the gold braid wasn’t tarnished, and the blue jacket and cherry breeches had no stains or patches. Only his worn boots gave an indication that he’d been through action.
‘You’re the smartest man on the quay,’ Bennett said with more sarcasm than admiration. ‘Lucky for you that you had a second uniform.’
‘I feel overdressed,’ Angus said, his smile fading as he glanced at a couple of infantry men walking past, their uniforms literally mud-covered rags. ‘But I’m going up to the camp and, you know…’ He broke off, perhaps embarrassed to say aloud that his superior officers would take him to task if he wasn’t correctly dressed.
‘It was a terrible blow, the Prince going down,’ Bennett said. ‘The sick coming down from the Heights tell me the men up there have the soles coming off their boots and that they wear their blankets under their greatcoats to try to keep warm. But I’m sure you know that. Are you intending to ride up to the camp?’
‘Yes. Mead brought my horse down this morning, though he’s in a sorry state. I gave him a handful of oats, but what he needs is a bucketful. There’s damn-all forage left for the horses now. I heard Lord Raglan is pushing for more. If it doesn’t come soon we’ll have to shoot some of the horses.’
‘I daresay some of the men who are cold and hungry would like to be put out of their misery too,’ Bennett sighed. ‘There won’t be much cheer this Christmas.’
‘I hoped to give you some cheer today by asking if you and Hope would like my room,’ Angus said, thumbing towards the building behind them. ‘I’m going to stay up at the camp, and you two can’t live in a tent now it’s getting so cold.’
‘That’s very decent