In other words, free.
She pictured Riley and Nadine – or tried to – but as she had never been to the south of France she didn’t have much to go on. Their one postcard (Nadine’s writing: ‘Missing you! (well, not really!)’) showed slender palm trees along a curving road and a curving beach. It was apparently a corniche. She remembered eating cornichons once or twice in France: same shape! Someone had told her – Peter, it must have been – that the word came from ‘horn’ … She pictured Riley and Nadine on a curving beach, eating tiny gherkins, with tiny horns growing out from their foreheads through their curly black hair. They would be wet and happy from the sea, young and beautiful—
She found herself suddenly blushing. She knew perfectly well what Riley’s body looked like, from nursing him. But he was a married man, not a patient, and she was no longer his nurse.
Rose spoke to Julia about Peter. ‘I do think,’ said Rose, ‘that he might see a more … sophisticated doctor.’
‘Is he ill?’ said Julia. ‘Do you really think so?’ She perked up at the idea. Of course she would, thought Rose. Illness is something you could do something about. Illness is a reason.
‘Worth checking,’ said Rose, and, nourished by this new possibility, Julia agreed to get up after all. Rose’s constant concern was whether Peter was sticking to the new rule – Dubonnet instead of whisky, and not until six o’clock – and how one could civilly find out, without provoking a small English furore.
‘You don’t trust me, Rosie darling, do you?’ he’d say, politely, glittering, and she’d say, ‘Oh Peter, it’s not that …’
And then one morning he interrupted the regular cycle of this dull and dangerous conversation to shout at her, suddenly, ferociously: ‘Then what is it? I tell you what it is – it’s a pretty sorry state of affairs, Cousin Rose, if a man can’t have a glass of whisky in his own study, in his own house …’ – and Rose stood, pinioned, shocked – ‘without some bloody woman—’ And he stopped as suddenly as he had started, and cocked his head, and then turned and looked at her as if he had no idea where he was.
Rose had a secret.
She and Nadine had talked, during the winter, about how a nurse could be, when returned to her family. For Nadine, who had only been a nurse at all because of the war, who hadn’t been one for very long, who had hardly seen her wounded hero during her nursing days, and who would never be a nurse again if she could help it, the issue was how to avoid nurseyness in marriage to a physically damaged man. Nurse and patient was not a model of marriage to which she aspired, and she believed they could avoid it.
For Rose, it was quite different. Nursing was taking her in more and more. It had given her a function where she had had none, an outlet for the natural love she carried but for which she had had no object – no man, no child, no art or passion beyond her deep affection for her once-glamorous cousin Peter, with his clever brain and the sweetness he had always shown her, and his mild, elegant manners. And of course she was fond of Tom. It had turned out to be easy enough for her to be competent in caring for both of them, and Julia. Looking after people was going to be her life now. She accepted it and was looking forward to it. But not domestic. Healing, not tending. Science, not soup. She wanted more. She wanted, among other things, to know what was wrong with Peter. She had plans.
In February, Rose had received a letter from Lady Ampthill of the Voluntary Aid Detachment Committee.
Devonshire House, London W1
Dear Madam,
On behalf of the Joint Committee of the British Red Cross and the Order of St John of Jerusalem, I have the honour to ask you to fill up the enclosed ‘Scholarship Scheme Form’ if you wish to train for definite work after demobilisation. The Joint Societies have decided to give a sum of money for scholarships and training, as a tribute to the magnificent work so generously given by VAD Members during the War.
Training will be given for those professions for which the work done by members would make them particularly suitable, such as the Health Services or Domestic Science. A preliminary list is appended, with the approximate period of training and probable salary to be gained when fully trained.
A limited number of scholarships to cover the fee and cost of living will be given to those who pass the qualifying examinations with special proficiency, but in other cases it is hoped to assist materially those members who wish to be trained for their various professions in centres all over the country.
The work of VAD Members is beyond all praise, and we very much hope that they will again be leaders in important patriotic work, which equally demands the best of British womanhood.
Yours faithfully
MARGARET AMPTHILL
Chairman, Joint Women’s VAD Committee.
Rose read it carefully. A woman – Lady Ampthill – was writing to her, a woman, offering money, training and support. She read the final sentence three times: the words leader, important, best, work, and womanhood in the same sentence. This, Rose thought, was the most beautiful letter she had ever received. (Not the most beautiful she had ever read – those were Nadine’s letters to Riley while he was in hospital, which Rose had had to read to him – my gosh, they had been something.) But no – this was about a future in which she could see herself. This was like Madame Curie setting up x-ray labs in the Belgian field hospitals, and fixing the wiring while she was at it, and rigging up field telephones. This was potentially …
There would be a catch.
She didn’t want to study domestic science! But health services? What did that cover?
The list of requirements was enclosed. Breathing steadily, Rose unfolded it and sat down to read it.
1 1) Length of Service. – Members must have worked officially in a recognised British Unit prior to January 1917, and have continued working until their services were no longer required. Well, that’s all right.
2 2) Recommendations. – Applications for Scholarships must be forwarded with a recommendation from: (a) The Matron … … … For Nursing Members working in Military Hospitals. Well that should be all right too. They will probably be sad to see me go. I think.
3 3) A new Medical Certificate will be necessary. Again, all right.
4 4) Age Limit. – 20–40. Unfair on the older ladies. But all right.
5 5) Standard of Education. – Certain Scholarships will require a high and definite standard of education, which will be taken into consideration. Ah. High and definite. That could mean anything. Will my plain old girl’s education count? Or will they want a degree or something?
6 6) Applications. – Applications should be made before 31 March 1919.
7 7) Further Correspondence. – When a form has been filled up by a Candidate, forwarded by her Officers, and approved, further correspondence will be carried on confidentially with the Member with regard to the amount of financial assistance required and other matters.
And on the other side was the nub of it: ‘Scholarships may be awarded for the following types of work …’
First on the list: ‘Medicine’.
Rose read no further. Fascinating though Midwives, X-Ray Assistants, Hospital Almoners and Instructors of the Mentally Defective might find their work, she read no further.
It wasn’t just that they would pay the fees. It was the idea of it. That she, Rose, could study medicine! That she could be a doctor! That all she had to do was work bloody hard – as if that wasn’t second nature to her – and she, Rose Locke, could