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NOTES:

YOUNG WRITERS: SPRING 2008 - THIRD PLACE WINNER

This story text appears exactly as sent in by the writer. No changes or corrections have been made; however, all stories to be included in the published Anthology will be edited for grammar and punctuation before printing.

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"A Place in History"

by Stephanie Higgins - Slough, Berkshire, UK

THIRD PLACE IN THE "YOUNG WRITERS" CATEGORY, SPRING 2008

“Have you packed something to do yet?” mum yelled from the bottom of the rickety, wooden stair railings of the flat she shared with her teenage daughter.

“I told you yesterday, my nursing course is definitely on.”

Lizzie lay sprawled over her glitzy lilac bed, the covers still crumpled from the night before. She’d heard Mum the first time but had completely ignored her, wrapped up in herself.

“I can’t go without you so you’d better come now!” Mum cried exaspera-tingly.

                                                 ***

I was sitting back in the gingham-covered chair, spinning round and round to amuse myself. My face was stony, why did Mum have to drag me out to this beastly place? A hospital isn’t exactly the place someone like me likes to spend my Saturday in. I was plunged into what seemed to be the most boring time ever. Eventually, desperate for something to do I picked up a book lying on the top of the pile next to me. I flicked through the glossy pages. In a flash I realised it was a nursing book and randomly glanced at a few photos. One was of a Matron in the war. I snapped it shut with a thud, closing my eyes as I did so.

It seemed a long time until I flipped my eyes open; but it happened. For all I know it could have been seconds. Days, hours, minutes, they all seem to run into each other nowadays.

Returning myself to the world, it took a few minutes before I lifted my head. There I was, standing somewhere totally different to where I had been when I'd closed my eyes. I kept flapping them open and shut in disbelief. It was impossible! Or was it…

Coming to my senses I heard a deep booming voice. A radio.

I stood there listening dumbfounded in the midst of young girls clad in uniforms with a big red cross on the front. It wasn’t so different than before only there was something eerie about it. I began to feel rather inquisitive and noticed that people were pressing their ears next to the battered radio, waiting, waiting.

 “What?” I whispered under my breath feeling awkward.

One of the girls heard and hissed in my ear “Shhh,” I managed to stand my ground despite my growing curiosity wondering what the commotion was.

 “ War, the war is declared!” I heard someone screech hysterically.

 “The bombs will start falling now, you mark my words”.

You couldn’t deny it, there were so many emotions in the cramped room and yet I didn’t seem to be feeling anything that anybody else did. Scanning some faces I saw some girls had broken down in tears and others had put on a brave face.

I was shocked, absolutely shell-shocked. So many questions ran rapidly through my bursting mind. What was I to do? I wasn’t left long to decide because to add to the commotion someone approached me. It was a lady with chestnut hair and a crisp, starched apron.

“ You must be Amelia Nelligy,” she started saying whilst twisting her way through the bustling crowd of girls, me following behind.

To me she looked rather calm, considering what had just happened.

” Sorry to disturb you at such a difficult moment but you’re in for a hard time. Now, I’ve a whole lot of girls to see to so I must be getting on.  Oh, and your room is number 17 up this passage,” she continued, pointing her finger down a dark corridor. It was only then I realised I must have gone back in time to the Second World War!

I must have been mistaken for another girl. There was no other explanation. Here I was expected to act as a VAD. I knew it; this was going to be a no slacking adventure!

In my opinion the first few weeks were abominable. Never before in my life had I imagined that work could really be as hard as what I had to do. Long hours, fatigue and worst still I was the only one without any first aid training. I must have looked so sheepish, as they thought I had the training. Mind you, I felt it too and wished that I’d listened on Mum’s nursing course.  A lot of the girls were so proud of themselves. Luckily, most of our jobs were cleaning which I consoled myself was far better than the blood and gore some of the nurses had to supervise. Another issue was my new name. You how can imagine how annoyingly hard it is adjusting to a new name after sixteen long years of being called by another. Most of the time I was called  ‘Nurse Nelligy’ which at least helped a little.

Us VADs were not supposed to tell each other our first names but somehow they all came out. Even if the other girls were a bit old-fashioned it seemed strange calling them Nurse something. Most of my off duty was spent either in my room or the VAD’s mess as it was called. We ate there and had chats sometimes although a lot of them seemed to already have made friendship groups. Maybe that was just as well because a lot of the time all I wanted to do was drop off to sleep and that wouldn’t have been friendly. I wouldn’t say I was popular amongst the girls, just a matter of interest. Perhaps it was my own fault. It was one issue that I behaved differently from them but another that I was always turning up on duty with my hat crumpled and getting on the wrong side of Matron. That puts her in a foul mood for the rest of them. She is always so strict when it comes down to cleanliness.

“ What’s wrong with you being tidy and making an effort for once?” asked Catherine, the girl who I shared my room with. I cocked my head to one side.” Nursing just isn’t my thing. I’m just doing my duty like the rest of us.” I replied. We hugged each other; we were starting to get friendly. All of the VADs were. We needed someone to turn to at hard times. I went to bed feeling pleased with my answer.

One chilly night when I was snoozing on my ramshackle bed it suddenly occurred to me to think back to history lessons at School. Surely it would help me. I re-considered. I’d already had quite enough close shaves opening my mouth about war events I could remember. I hardly even listened to my teacher’s droning but you had to learn something. If I had made an effort I might I have been able to do at least something now.

Around the wards there is always the musty smell of blood hanging around like a thick fog. Some of the QAs (Qualified Assistant) say this is only the beginning and that there have been no patients from the front yet. I choke inwardly in disgust at this. Nothing could possibly be much worse than this.

 Day by day worse news was coming in which took a toll on everybody’s spirits.

“ Maybe I’m not cut out to be a nurse,” sighed Alice, a rather tomboyish, bespectacled girl. Some of the others sympathised with her.

“ It’s hard enough for us, but you and Amelia are a right old pair, what with all the scrapes you get into,” joked Matilda, laughing in spite of everything.

This cheered me up; at least there was someone in my position.

 “Sometimes I think this place is terrible but when I look at the patients I remember our brave young men,” contributed Emily who was a calm girl and quite sensible.

 “You’re a world of advice, Emily. You make everything seem so easy, but to me it’s so difficult,” I said wearily before walking back to my room to sleep.

Soon after I had dropped off I awoke to a bright light blazing in my eyes and Catherine rapidly changing into uniform.

“Quickly, get changed, you’ll find out why later, there’s no time to explain now.” Catherine said.

My mind muddled to the utmost I struggled into my clothes wondering what could have happened. When I opened the door I gasped as stretchers with men were carried in. These weren’t just any men either- they were men who were wounded really badly. Blood seeped through sheets, which had been wrapped around their injury, and the strain on their faces was too much to bear.

 “ Strip a bed and disinfect it if you can,” the sister instructed, “ The men are pouring in by the second.”

 “ I can’t do that.”  I responded.

“ It’s an order,” came the distant reply.

Left to do my job I tried not to lose my head. Somehow I felt as if I had to do my bit, help these poor men who had fought for their country.

It took all my strength not to break down at the sight of a man in the bed. His teeth had been gnashed in and on his leg there was some ghastly green infection.

“ You’re here now, you will be looked after.” I tried to comfort. Still the blood kept running.

At the moment one of the only things that brightened my life were the occasional tricks the patients played on me that was the few ones who were fit enough, especially Sergeant Panfull No one has come up with the old trick of putting a thermometer in a hot drink yet!

 I’m always getting into the sister’s and Q.A’s bad books because of it. I’d do anything to get away with a laugh or joke without having a lecture...

Surely everyone needed to be cheered up occasionally especially in this situation. By that time there were mattresses scattered all over the floor, just like miniature islands. There was no doubt; we were overflowing just like the sea rising up.

Suddenly there was a loud bang. A bomb! I hauled myself with the patients under the bed, petrified of bombs, waiting for the all clear. Flames raged as one exploded outside.

 It was all too much for me. The last thing I knew was that my head was spinning as Matron scoffed at me after smashing a nursing instrument on the floor. Then silence, darkness, nothing more. Finally the wards began to flicker between my eyes like a butterfly flitting back and forth.

 “Aw,” I muttered feebly as I felt the rough slats of wood beneath my aching back. It wasn’t luxury but it was what I’d wanted, the precious gift of a small comforting rest.

Before me stood Matron, as round as a penny with her bulging cheeks and steady hand on me.

 For the first time I saw her through different eyes. I saw that she meant well.  Perhaps her rows had been for her patients. She was a resilient, kind-hearted person underneath her harshness. I craned my neck towards the familiar face of Sergeant Panfull, which was bearing a cheery smile. A beam began to spread over my face until it reached from ear to ear. Then it happened, with a single squeeze of his hand I was back, back in the hospital where my Mum worked.

The shabby gingham chair I was sitting on felt like the height of luxuries, and what stuck in my mind was that it was dirty. I let out a gasp. I had learnt the lesson of cleanliness.

For a while there was pure silence as I began to think about what had happened to me. When I came to my senses I opened the nursing book. Skimming through, I saw the war nurse photo. Taking a closer look at the flushed round face I saw it was my matron.

 How glad I was that she had her own place in history, someone who had worked hard, putting her patients first.

Copyright (c) 2008 by Stephanie Higgins.
Do not reproduce without the author's written permission!
 

COMMENTS FROM OUR COMMISSIONING EDITOR, Jo Holloway:
Very professionally presented and well polished. Be careful of changing tenses mid-stream. Story content was good, but could have been made more exciting with more imaginative creativity - for example, what if the soldier who was wounded looked strangely familiar - and then she learns his name, and it turns out he was her great grandfather, but just as she realises it he squeezes her hand and she is back in the present ...? When writing, always pose the "what if?" questions; it can lead to astonishing things. But I liked this story and I see a good future for the writer!

COMMENTS FROM OUR GUEST JUDGE, Lucy McCarraher:
Really excellent and well structured story about time travelling back to WW2. Good research and nice ending.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
 

Hello, I’m Stephanie Higgins and I’m eleven years old and starting senior school this year. Since I was little I’ve always loved books and spend a lot of time reading them, which is why I enjoy writing so much. It’s the one way you can escape to another world and be a different person. I like to take note pads around with me because I can write ideas for stories down. Personally, my favourite genre is historical because it’s really interesting and you can learn about history as well as include lots of description to create a picture of a different word to the one we live in now. My other interests are singing, playing the violin, netball and collecting miniatures for my doll’s house. One of my aspirations is to publish a novel and write stories to the best of my ability for others to enjoy.

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