Winston and Me by Woodburn Mark

Author:Woodburn, Mark [Woodburn, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Valley Press
Published: 2012-10-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

T ime seemed to pass very slowly that year. I got on as best I could with learning the job and seeing Gemma, though it was not easy as she worked very long hours. She did get a weekend off now and then and we both looked forward to them.

I made a few journeys north to see the family and took in a game at Tynecastle whenever I could. But I could not stay long because of the long journey back and, after a while, I no longer made the effort. I did make it up for the wedding of Mum and George at St Giles, which went well. The sight of my little sisters dressed as maids and squealing when they received their favours was one for the cameras.

My relationship with Gemma developed, becoming my anchor in London. and I soon began to appreciate the depths of her emotional attachment to me. As a nurse she was worldlier than most girls her age and would discuss some of the things she had to contend with on a daily basis, including the more intimate bodily functions of her male patients.

She described them in such a humorous manner that I had to laugh but, at times, I was secretly horrified at what this young girl had to cope with. I do not care who you are, if your girlfriend is a nurse you will be shocked at what she tells you from time to time.

I never forgot the nurse who held my hand in Bailleul and from then on regarded all who followed her profession as veritable angels. I did not begrudge any poor soldier in delirium the comfort of my girl telling them she was their mummy and loved them dearly to help ease their pain. I was proud of her. We spoke of these intimate matters when we stayed the odd weekend at Granma’s. We were in separate rooms of course (her grandmother was not that modern in her views) but we sneaked into one or other room late on and lay near-naked in each other’s arms.

We smooched heavily and touched each other intimately but that was as far as we went. We were lovers in all but consummation as we lay there talking, kissing and caressing and I loved those few nights we spent together if only for an hour or two before I sneaked off back to my room. They are a cherished memory and will be to my dying day.

She spoke of the first time she saw wounded men returning from the Somme. They were caked with mud, bloodied and with filthy bandages hanging off them. Gemma and a more experienced nurse had to pitch in the best they could.

We lay together as she recalled: ‘The first man must have been asleep with exhaustion or through morphine but I remember how old and worn-out he looked, though he could not have been more than thirty. He had his leg blown away below the knee. The bandage was saturated and needed changing and I hung back, letting Sister remove it.

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