Smoke and Ashes by Abir Mukherjee

Author:Abir Mukherjee [Mukherjee, Abir]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Random House
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

There was an envelope waiting on my desk at Lal Bazar. It was dated 23 December in florid, feminine handwriting.

I ripped it open and drew out the contents, a few flimsy sheets of paper, closely typed, with the words Barrackpore Military Hospital printed in large block capitals at top, and the name Ruth Fernandes beneath it.

‘What is it?’ asked Surrender-not.

‘Someone’s seen fit to send us Nurse Fernandes’s personnel file.’

‘Who? Colonel McGuire?’

I checked the envelope for any cover note but there was none, but I was quite certain who’d sent it. The date written on the envelope told me everything I needed to know. French handwriting is subtly different to the English variety, especially in the way that certain characters are drawn – the number ’1’ in particular. The French always write it with a much longer slant at the top.

‘I doubt it,’ I said, turning over the pages.

‘How can you tell?’

‘There’s no cover note,’ I said. ‘If it had been sent at McGuire’s behest, there would have been one, in fact there’s nothing at all with the sender’s name on it, which suggests it’s been sent surreptitiously. I think this has come from Sister Rouvel, and, if I’m correct, without McGuire’s knowledge.’

I sat down and read through the pages. There seemed little in the way of new information. Under her name and address was a short description of her qualifications and pay grade. Set out beneath that was her service history at the hospital. It began in November 1912, shortly after she’d come to Bengal at the behest of her husband, presumably.

She’d been promoted in October 1915 to head of ward. With the war starting in 1914, I imagined the hospital would have seen a large influx of wounded native troops returning for recuperation and rehabilitation the following year. It stood to reason that Fernandes, with her time served in Barrackpore and her previous experience as a nurse in Goa, would have been a natural choice for promotion.

The next entry was succinct. It read simply: September 1917: Transfer to RAWALPINDI.

Rawalpindi was a garrison town in the Punjab, over a thousand miles from Bengal, close to the North-West Frontier. By November of the following year though, she was back overseeing her old ward in Barrackpore, a position she retained until her death less than forty-eight hours earlier.

The next page was taken up with annual evaluations of her performance. There was a gap for 1917–18, as was to be expected given that during that time she’d been transferred to Rawalpindi.

I tossed the pages over the desk to Surrender-not and waited for him to read them.

‘What do you make of it?’ I asked as he finally looked up.

‘For the most part there’s nothing here.’ He shrugged. ‘But …’

‘Yes?’

‘Why would a staff nurse be transferred from Barrackpore to Rawalpindi?’

‘It was wartime,’ I said. ‘People were moved about all over the place. Things were pretty bad in ’17 and a lot of our Indian troops were from the Punjab. Maybe they needed additional nurses to tend to the wounded men sent back there?’

‘It’s possible.

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