before
they’ve finished, when they’re blind and paralyzed.” I said: “Why, no, Dad, I didn’t hear anything,” and he said: ‘Never mind, Elinor, but I’m
warning you. You keep away from them soldiers in the workhouse infirmary, because if I find out you’ve had anything to do with ’em I’ll bloody kill you. In fact keep away from the
bloody lot. Have nothing to do with any of’em. They’re not clean.”’
‘Poor things,’ Sally murmured.
‘You’re not going to tell me you feel sorry for them, are you? Why, they’ve brought it on theirsels, man!’
Sally shrugged. ‘I suppose they have, in a way, and in another way, they haven’t. They’ve got no homes to go back to when they get leave, have they, so they’re more open
to temptation, like.’
‘They’ve got more money than the English lads, an’ all,’ Elinor said, her eyes hungry. ‘They get four times as much. My dad says they’ve always got money to
go out and get beer, and go out and get women an’ all, I suppose.’
‘There you are then. More money, and miles of ocean away from home. So it’s the war that brought it on them, isn’t it? It’s the war that drove them to it. And we really
don’t know what it’s like over there in France, Elinor, so we shouldn’t judge, should we?’
‘Ee, you are a funny one, Sally. And are you going to have to nurse them, like?’
‘I expect they’ll have the orderlies looking after them.’
‘Well, I feel sorry for you if you have to, the dirty things. You should have come to work in the laundry, like me. Then you’d be working under Board of Trade regulations and
you’d never have to work on Saturday afternoons or Sundays, and you’d have two evenings a week off as well, instead of working all the hours God sends.’
The table was set, and a small fire was glowing in the range when she got home. ‘It’s not that cold yet, and what with the coal shortage, I don’t use any more
than I have to,’ her mother said, lifting the stew pot from the oven with a thick cloth and setting it on the table, where its brown glaze gleamed in the light of the fire and gas mantle.
‘I managed to get a ham shank from the butcher, though, and I’ve had it simmering in the oven all day with some split peas. I threw a few carrots in after I’d stripped the meat
from the bone, near the end.’ She lifted the lid, releasing both steam and a mouthwatering aroma, and began to ladle the broth into bowls. ‘Come and get it down you, it’ll soon
warm you up. I’ve got some potatoes baking as well, and there’s a dab of butter to go on them.’
Sally took off her coat, and sat down. ‘By, it smells lovely, Mam. I hadn’t realized how hungry I am.’
She ate gratefully, and in silence. After several attempts at conversation, her mother gave up, and when the meal was finished, asked, ‘What’s the matter, Sally? I’ve been
looking forward to seeing you and hearing your news for days, and you haven’t got a word for the cat.’
Sally pushed her plate away. ‘Sorry, Mam. Only I’ve seen some things lately . . .’
‘I know,’ her mother jumped in. ‘I’ve heard about some of them. Horrible things. I know I’ve got two lads in France, but you can talk to me about them, you know, if
you want to. I’ll understand.’
‘That’s just it, I don’t. I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said. ‘I want to get away from it.’
‘What did I tell you? I said nursing would never be any good to you. You’ve never been strong . . .’
‘It’s not nursing that’s supposed to be any good to me, Mam,’ Sally cut in, ‘it’s me that’s supposed to be some good to nursing.’
The kitchen was chilly in spite of the fire. She rose abruptly from the table and went upstairs to find her old cardigan – the warm, comforting grey one, darned at the elbows and fraying
at the cuffs, that she only ever wore in the house because, although she couldn’t bear to part with it, really it
they’ve finished, when they’re blind and paralyzed.” I said: “Why, no, Dad, I didn’t hear anything,” and he said: ‘Never mind, Elinor, but I’m
warning you. You keep away from them soldiers in the workhouse infirmary, because if I find out you’ve had anything to do with ’em I’ll bloody kill you. In fact keep away from the
bloody lot. Have nothing to do with any of’em. They’re not clean.”’
‘Poor things,’ Sally murmured.
‘You’re not going to tell me you feel sorry for them, are you? Why, they’ve brought it on theirsels, man!’
Sally shrugged. ‘I suppose they have, in a way, and in another way, they haven’t. They’ve got no homes to go back to when they get leave, have they, so they’re more open
to temptation, like.’
‘They’ve got more money than the English lads, an’ all,’ Elinor said, her eyes hungry. ‘They get four times as much. My dad says they’ve always got money to
go out and get beer, and go out and get women an’ all, I suppose.’
‘There you are then. More money, and miles of ocean away from home. So it’s the war that brought it on them, isn’t it? It’s the war that drove them to it. And we really
don’t know what it’s like over there in France, Elinor, so we shouldn’t judge, should we?’
‘Ee, you are a funny one, Sally. And are you going to have to nurse them, like?’
‘I expect they’ll have the orderlies looking after them.’
‘Well, I feel sorry for you if you have to, the dirty things. You should have come to work in the laundry, like me. Then you’d be working under Board of Trade regulations and
you’d never have to work on Saturday afternoons or Sundays, and you’d have two evenings a week off as well, instead of working all the hours God sends.’
The table was set, and a small fire was glowing in the range when she got home. ‘It’s not that cold yet, and what with the coal shortage, I don’t use any more
than I have to,’ her mother said, lifting the stew pot from the oven with a thick cloth and setting it on the table, where its brown glaze gleamed in the light of the fire and gas mantle.
‘I managed to get a ham shank from the butcher, though, and I’ve had it simmering in the oven all day with some split peas. I threw a few carrots in after I’d stripped the meat
from the bone, near the end.’ She lifted the lid, releasing both steam and a mouthwatering aroma, and began to ladle the broth into bowls. ‘Come and get it down you, it’ll soon
warm you up. I’ve got some potatoes baking as well, and there’s a dab of butter to go on them.’
Sally took off her coat, and sat down. ‘By, it smells lovely, Mam. I hadn’t realized how hungry I am.’
She ate gratefully, and in silence. After several attempts at conversation, her mother gave up, and when the meal was finished, asked, ‘What’s the matter, Sally? I’ve been
looking forward to seeing you and hearing your news for days, and you haven’t got a word for the cat.’
Sally pushed her plate away. ‘Sorry, Mam. Only I’ve seen some things lately . . .’
‘I know,’ her mother jumped in. ‘I’ve heard about some of them. Horrible things. I know I’ve got two lads in France, but you can talk to me about them, you know, if
you want to. I’ll understand.’
‘That’s just it, I don’t. I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said. ‘I want to get away from it.’
‘What did I tell you? I said nursing would never be any good to you. You’ve never been strong . . .’
‘It’s not nursing that’s supposed to be any good to me, Mam,’ Sally cut in, ‘it’s me that’s supposed to be some good to nursing.’
The kitchen was chilly in spite of the fire. She rose abruptly from the table and went upstairs to find her old cardigan – the warm, comforting grey one, darned at the elbows and fraying
at the cuffs, that she only ever wore in the house because, although she couldn’t bear to part with it, really it
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