Hope - Lesley Pearse [227]
‘Asiz, no!’ she called out.
But Asiz did not put the knife down and every other man was either getting out of bed, if he was capable, or sitting up and shouting in his own tongue.
‘You’ve done this,’ Truscott said, turning very red in the face. ‘Get him off me.’
Hope went behind him and made signs to Asiz that she was fine, and taking his arm she led him back to his bed. She put her finger up to her lips to tell the others to be quiet.
‘I want you out of this hospital this minute,’ Truscott said, rubbing his neck as if convinced it was cut. ‘You are clearly not to be trusted.’
Hope glanced round the ward. The men were quiet now but they were watching and waiting. All at once she realized that it must have been Truscott who was responsible for her fate, and no doubt one of the orderlies had been persuaded to act as a stool pigeon.
It was tempting to tell him how childish he was. To ask why, if he was such a great surgeon, he wasn’t out there dealing with the seriously wounded. But that was likely to cause trouble for Bennett, and if she riled Truscott any further, it just might lead to the men attacking him.
‘Very well, sir,’ she said, and, biting her lip so she wouldn’t call him any of the foul names Betsy had taught her, she marched out of the ward with her head held high.
Chapter Twenty-three
Hope was dripping with perspiration by the time she reached the top of the steep path leading to the Heights. It was just six in the morning and would remain chilly until the sun rose further in the sky, but it was a hard climb and her bag was heavy.
For two whole days she’d stayed in her room, angry, frustrated and often tearful, yet quite certain someone would come and ask her to go back to the hospital.
But no one came, not even the few young doctors and orderlies she had counted as friends. Eventually she decided this wasn’t just because they were afraid of Surgeon Truscott, but far more likely because they had never really approved of her.
Disapproval of women nurses in military hospitals was widespread. When it was heard that Florence Nightingale was going to Scutari, Bennett had said that most of the older doctors were outraged. Probably the only reason Hope had been tolerated all this time was because she’d already proved herself useful in Varna, and because she was Bennett’s wife.
Yet whatever Truscott and the others who were backing him felt about her, it was an act of monumental stupidity to get rid of her just when the hospital was so overstretched.
So today she was setting off to join Bennett at the Rifle Brigade field hospital.
She was scared; about Bennett’s reaction, how his fellow officers would view her turning up, and what it would be like to live in a camp again. Back in Varna it had been very different – everyone was just waiting to be moved on, and when people fell sick they were grateful she could help, regardless of who she was.
No one had anticipated that within a year half their number would be dead or wounded. She recalled the excitement when they’d finally sailed away from Bulgaria, everyone so certain they’d left all the sickness behind and that they’d be home in time for Christmas.
Would they even be home for next Christmas?
She sat down on a rock to get her breath, looking down at the harbour, anxious tears filling her eyes. She was over four months pregnant now, and although her clothes hid her ever-increasing belly, they wouldn’t for much longer. Bennett would realize the truth very soon, and he’d be angry that she hadn’t told him before.
She turned at the sound of men’s voices and hastily wiped away her tears. A couple of soldiers were coming towards her, carrying gabions, the curious funnel-shaped baskets which were filled with earth and used in building defences. She thought they were probably out searching for roots and wood for their fires.
It wasn’t possible to make out which regiment they were from, for neither was wearing anything that approached a uniform, just dark breeches and filthy loose shirts,