said I had thelightest hand with scones in the South Island but Mrs Maxwell says that her Angus says scones are like rocks by the time they get to him and the same goes for sponge cakes. So I have sent you each a fruit cake and some of my special tablet. I sent some to Master Tim too in hopes that wherever he is it may find him.
Well Miss Margery I think that is all—just to let you know that you three are in our prayers every night and morning and Campbell says to tell Mr Dougie and Master Tim that he is taking good care of the place and it will all be waiting for them just as when they left it.
Yours respectfully and
with our love,
Mrs Maggie Campbell
4 October 1916
My dear niece,
As you will see, I have been transferred to No 15 Casualty Station. It is only a day’s drive from your canteen and I trust that before long I will be able to take a day’s leave and see you. At the moment though there is no leave for anyone. We are terribly understaffed, as always. It breaks my heart sometimes to refuse the girls their half-day off a week. But even that is impossible with the number of casualties we are getting.
I am giving this to an officer who will be passing your canteen on his way home. His wound did not appear serious at first, but it seems that the nerves of his hand have been damaged as he isunable to use it. Perhaps they will be able to fix it in England—but I very much hope for his sake and his family’s that it proves stubborn and that he is transferred to lighter duties. But this way at least the censor will not be able to make his usual scribbles over my address!
I heard from Dougie last week, though the letter must have taken many weeks to reach me.
I have also been asking if any of the men who were at Gallipoli have any knowledge of Tim, as you requested. I did find one who said he knew him, a Corporal Mather. I do not want to get your hopes up, my dear, as the poor chap was very feeble and I do not put much trust in anything he might remember. But he seemed to think he saw Tim with a group of four men taken as prisoners of war by a Turkish captain.
I am afraid I have no time to write more. Things are so very strained here. I will give you more details when I see you next. But please, please do not put too much reliance on this, as I think it likely that poor Corporal Mather was simply trying to remember anything to please me.
Your loving aunt,
Sister Eulalie Macpherson
Midge slid across the leather seat, behind Boadicea’s steering wheel. Dolores bounded happily over her, then settled down on Slogger’s and Jumbo’s feet.
How much did she really remember about managing a car, Midge wondered. And no matter what she had assuredSlogger, driving an ambulance along the dark and rutted roads would be different from puttering across the village in the Station Master’s car.
Almost without thinking her hands turned the ignition key, then pushed ‘spark’ to up and ‘gas’ to down, and turned the battery switch to ‘bat’. The battery began to buzz. Contact! She quickly slid out of the driver’s seat and round to the front of the car and grabbed the crank handle, pushed in and brought it up, then grabbed the radiator wire and pulled till she could hear the familar sound of gas being pulled into the engine. She let go of the wire. Now around and around with the crank handle…
The engine coughed twice, then burst into life. She raced back to the driver’s seat, adjusted ‘spark’ and ‘gas’, and threw the switch over to ‘magneto’.
The engine hummed.
Jumbo grinned. Her freckles danced across her nose. ‘I see you and Mr Ford are well acquainted.’ The smile slipped as she glanced at Slogger. The girl’s face was damp with sweat. ‘Down, Dolores! Come on. We’d better go.’
It was strange driving again. The rumble of the engine, the vibration so different from a train. The headlights were pools of light cutting through the darkness, illuminating scenes suddenly then leaving
Well Miss Margery I think that is all—just to let you know that you three are in our prayers every night and morning and Campbell says to tell Mr Dougie and Master Tim that he is taking good care of the place and it will all be waiting for them just as when they left it.
Yours respectfully and
with our love,
Mrs Maggie Campbell
4 October 1916
My dear niece,
As you will see, I have been transferred to No 15 Casualty Station. It is only a day’s drive from your canteen and I trust that before long I will be able to take a day’s leave and see you. At the moment though there is no leave for anyone. We are terribly understaffed, as always. It breaks my heart sometimes to refuse the girls their half-day off a week. But even that is impossible with the number of casualties we are getting.
I am giving this to an officer who will be passing your canteen on his way home. His wound did not appear serious at first, but it seems that the nerves of his hand have been damaged as he isunable to use it. Perhaps they will be able to fix it in England—but I very much hope for his sake and his family’s that it proves stubborn and that he is transferred to lighter duties. But this way at least the censor will not be able to make his usual scribbles over my address!
I heard from Dougie last week, though the letter must have taken many weeks to reach me.
I have also been asking if any of the men who were at Gallipoli have any knowledge of Tim, as you requested. I did find one who said he knew him, a Corporal Mather. I do not want to get your hopes up, my dear, as the poor chap was very feeble and I do not put much trust in anything he might remember. But he seemed to think he saw Tim with a group of four men taken as prisoners of war by a Turkish captain.
I am afraid I have no time to write more. Things are so very strained here. I will give you more details when I see you next. But please, please do not put too much reliance on this, as I think it likely that poor Corporal Mather was simply trying to remember anything to please me.
Your loving aunt,
Sister Eulalie Macpherson
Midge slid across the leather seat, behind Boadicea’s steering wheel. Dolores bounded happily over her, then settled down on Slogger’s and Jumbo’s feet.
How much did she really remember about managing a car, Midge wondered. And no matter what she had assuredSlogger, driving an ambulance along the dark and rutted roads would be different from puttering across the village in the Station Master’s car.
Almost without thinking her hands turned the ignition key, then pushed ‘spark’ to up and ‘gas’ to down, and turned the battery switch to ‘bat’. The battery began to buzz. Contact! She quickly slid out of the driver’s seat and round to the front of the car and grabbed the crank handle, pushed in and brought it up, then grabbed the radiator wire and pulled till she could hear the familar sound of gas being pulled into the engine. She let go of the wire. Now around and around with the crank handle…
The engine coughed twice, then burst into life. She raced back to the driver’s seat, adjusted ‘spark’ and ‘gas’, and threw the switch over to ‘magneto’.
The engine hummed.
Jumbo grinned. Her freckles danced across her nose. ‘I see you and Mr Ford are well acquainted.’ The smile slipped as she glanced at Slogger. The girl’s face was damp with sweat. ‘Down, Dolores! Come on. We’d better go.’
It was strange driving again. The rumble of the engine, the vibration so different from a train. The headlights were pools of light cutting through the darkness, illuminating scenes suddenly then leaving
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