Daughters of War by Hilary Green

due course it will heal. There is nothing else.’
    When she had finished Sophie led the way to the next bed and Leo prepared herself for more horror, but nothing compared with that first baptism of fire. For nearly two hours she followed Sophie down the ward, supporting wounded arms and legs, handing bandages and instruments, and trying to offer some comfort in the form of smiles and handclasps. By the time they had finished she was shaking with exhaustion and delayed shock.
    Their work was not over yet, however. Two orderlies appeared at the entrance carrying a huge vat of steaming soup and a basket of hard, black bread. As she ladled the soup into tin plates Sophie said, ‘Perhaps you can help some of those who cannot manage by themselves?’
    Leo carried a plate over to the boy with the shattered face and helped him to prop himself up on his pillow. After the first spoonful of soup a faint smile touched his lips and he whispered the only word she had so far learned of his language.
    ‘ Dobro! ’
    She smiled back at him. ‘Yes, dobro . Good!’
    When all the patients had been fed Sophie turned to Leo with a smile. ‘Now it is time for us to eat. Perhaps you would like to join us?’
    Leo and Victoria followed her to the mess tent, which had been set up alongside the hospital tent. They were introduced to the two doctors, whose white coats were spattered with blood and whose faces were taut and lined with fatigue. The meal was the same soup and bread that had been served to the patients and Leo found to her surprise that she had a good appetite for it.
    As they ate, she turned to Sophie.
    ‘Did you say you are a Serb? I’m wondering how you come to be serving with the Bulgarian Red Cross.’
    ‘I am a Serb, yes,’ Sophie agreed. ‘But I come from Kavala in Macedonia. You will have passed through it on the train from Salonika.’
    Leo nodded vaguely. The details of the journey were becoming indistinct.
    ‘It is one of the main towns in Macedonia,’ the other girl went on. ‘My father was a doctor there and he allowed me to work under him at the hospital. But when the fighting started the Turks took him away, to care for their wounded. I have not seen him since.’
    Leo looked at her. Her hair was drawn back smoothly from a broad brow and her eyes were large and dark. For the first time Leo noticed the signs of weariness on her face and, as Sophie turned her head away, she saw that her eyelashes were dewed with tears.
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmured. ‘But how did that bring you here?’
    ‘I reasoned that the Turks would have taken him with them as they retreated, so as the Bulgarian army pursued them I thought that if I went too I might perhaps catch up with him.’ She forced a smile. ‘It has not happened yet, but it still may.’
    ‘I hope it will,’ Leo said.
    They had just finished eating when Lieutenant Radic reappeared, looking his former cheerful self.
    ‘The general thinks that perhaps you should rest after your journey. He has placed his tent at your disposal and insists that you use it. Shall I take you back now?’
    Leo looked at Victoria and saw that she appeared as drained of energy as she felt herself. She turned to Sophie. ‘I’m sure you could do with more help . . .’
    Sophie shook her head. ‘No, the lieutenant is right. You should rest. Thank you for what you did this morning.’ She smiled at Leo. ‘You will be a good nurse. I can see that.’
    Leo thanked her but as they walked back to the general’s tent the thought uppermost in her mind was that she could never, given the choice, dedicate herself to the kind of work that Sophie carried out so calmly. Once more, cruel reality had imposed itself over what she had imagined. Her grandmother had been right. Her original conception had been romantic nonsense.
    In the tent Victoria laid a hand on her arm. ‘Leo, you were wonderful this morning. I don’t think I could have faced those horrors if it hadn’t been for