A Good Woman (20 page)

She told no one her plans until the day before Christmas, when she finally told the head nurse, who was stunned, but thought it an excellent idea.

“Good heavens,” she said, smiling at her, “I thought you’d be a nurse. I never thought you’d want to be a doctor. But why not? Dr. Inglis is one of the best. So could you be one day,” she said proudly, as though she’d thought of it herself. “What a good thing for Dr. de Bré to do. I heartily approve.”

Annabelle had been there for three months by then, and had proven herself in every way. She hadn’t really had time to make friends, since she worked all the time, even when she didn’t have to. But there were so many wounded, and so much work to do for all of them. She even drove one of the ambulances from time to time when they needed her to. She was willing to do it all. She had driven closer to the front to pick up men from the field hospitals there and brought them back to the Abbey. The sound of the guns nearby had been impressive, and reminded her of how close the fighting was. In a way, she felt guilty leaving them all to go to medical school in Nice, but it was such an exciting prospect there was no way she could resist it. It was more than a little daunting knowing that she would be twentyeight when she was finished. It seemed like a long time to her, but she had so much to learn in the meantime. She couldn’t imagine cramming it all into six years.

She ran into Edwina outside their cells on Christmas morning, they hugged each other, and Annabelle told her she was leaving in three weeks. And Edwina looked instantly disappointed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I always want to spend time with you, and chat, but we never get to it, and now you’re going.” She had hoped they would be friends, but none of them had time. There was always too much work. It made Annabelle think of Hortie then, and the last time they’d met, and her terrible sense of betrayal. Hortie had been all too willing to turn her back on her oldest and dearest friend, and to say that James wouldn’t allow her to see Annabelle again. It was all part of why she had decided to come to France. She had lost too many people, and Hortie had been the last straw. It made her look at Edwina with a gentle smile, and the memory of regret, and a beloved friendship lost.

“Maybe I can come back to work here when they give us time off. I don’t know if they have holidays in medical school, but they must,” Annabelle said hopefully. She wanted to see them all again. In some ways, she didn’t want to leave. She had been happy here for three months, as much as one could be among such grievously wounded men, but the camaraderie among the staff had been tremendous.

“You’re going to medical school?” Edwina looked stunned. She’d had no idea.

“Dr. de Bré arranged it,” Annabelle said with dancing eyes. She got more excited every day. “I never thought something like this could happen to me,” she added, with a look of dazed amazement.

“What did your family say?” Edwina asked with interest, as a cloud passed over Annabelle’s face, which Edwina didn’t understand. “Do they mind your staying over here? They must worry about you, being so close to the front.” If the lines shifted and they got overrun, all of them could have been taken prisoner. It was a risk they didn’t allow themselves to think about once they were there, but the threat was real. Edwina’s parents had been nervous about her coming, particularly her mother, but she had come anyway. Both her brothers were in the war and she wanted to be part of it too.

“I don’t have any family,” Annabelle said quietly. “I lost them all. My mother died a year ago, and my father and brother on the
Titanic.
” She didn’t mention Josiah, who had been yet another loss in her life, but no one here knew she had been married, so there was no way to explain it, and she didn’t want to anyway. It was a silent loss she bore alone, and always would.

“I’m so sorry,” Edwina said softly. “I didn’t know.” None of them ever had time to share their histories, or much else, just the occasional cup of tea, and a greeting here and there. There was so much else to do, there was rarely time for niceties, or the kind of opportunities that in other circumstances allowed one to build friendships. They just worked side by side until they nearly dropped, and then went to bed on their mattresses on the floor in their tiny old nuns’ cells. The most exciting thing they got to do was sneak the occasional cigarette and giggle about it. Annabelle had tried them a few times, just to be sociable, but she didn’t like them much.

They chatted for a few more minutes and Edwina wished her a happy Christmas and luck at school. They promised to spend a few minutes together, or meet in the mess hall, before she left, but neither of them knew if it would really happen. And then they went their separate ways to the wards where they worked. Christmas was just another day caring for the sick and wounded. There were no celebrations, no carols, no gifts. There was a cease-fire for the day, but by six o’clock that night the Germans had violated it, and more men came in with missing limbs that night. It was an endless stream of human suffering whatever day of the year.

Annabelle was grateful to work as hard as she did that day. It kept her from thinking of all the people she had loved and lost, two of them only that year. She wouldn’t allow herself to think of Christmas Eve at her mother’s house the year before. It was just too painful. And soon she would begin a whole new life in Nice. She forced herself to focus on that whenever she had a break that day, which wasn’t often. She concentrated on what medical school would be like, but every now and then visions of her mother intruded anyway, or the sound of her voice…the last time she had seen her… and she thought of it as she lay on her mattress that night, wondering what her mother would think of everything that had happened in the past year. She hoped that wherever she was, watching over her, she would be proud when Annabelle became a doctor. She knew her mother probably wouldn’t have approved. But what else did she have now? And who? Becoming a doctor was Annabelle’s only dream, her only hope of an entirely new life.

Chapter 16

A
nnabelle’s departure went unnoticed the day she left the hospital at the Abbaye de Royaumont in Asnières. She had gone to say good-bye to Dr. de Bré, and to thank him, the day before, and also made her farewell to the head nurse. Other than that, she had no one to say good-bye to, except Edwina, whom she saw for a few minutes that morning. They wished each other luck, and said they hoped to meet again. And then Annabelle got into the truck that drove her to the station. She was taking the train to Nice, which was a long, drawn-out process. All the routes that went too near the front had been rerouted in circuitous ways, and most of the trains had been commandeered by the army.

It took her a day and a night to get to Nice, and when she finally arrived, she found two taxis at the train station, driven by women. She climbed into one of them, and gave the driver the address of the medical school. It was just outside Nice, on a hill, looking out at the ocean, in a small château that belonged to the family of the school’s founder, Dr. Graumont. And with its peaceful gardens and orchards around it, it was hard to believe that there was war or strife anywhere in the world, let alone nerve gas, shattered bodies, or people dying. She felt completely sheltered from the real world here. It was the most tranquil place she had seen since Newport, and in some ways reminded her of it.

A stern-looking housekeeper showed her to her room, handed her the sheets to make her own bed, and told her to be downstairs at eight o’clock for dinner. The first-year medical students lived in a dormitory. The more senior students, all of them men, had individual rooms. Since she was the only woman she had gotten one of their rooms, a comfortable chamber that looked out at the sea. There were forty-four students living at the château, all of whom had been exempted from military service for some reason. There was an Englishman, a Scot, two Italians, and the rest of them were French. Annabelle was the only American. She had been told that she could practice medicine when she went back to the States by taking an exam there, but she wasn’t thinking that far ahead yet. For the next six years, she would be here, and it felt like the right place for her to be. She was certain of it as soon as she saw it. She felt safe and protected.

She washed her face and hands, put on a clean black dress, one of the nicer ones she had brought with her, and tied her hair back in a discreet knot. Looking immaculate, she went down to dinner promptly at eight.

The students met in the large drawing room of the château before dinner every night. They talked quietly among themselves, usually about medical matters, and all of them had been there since September. Annabelle was the interloper who had arrived late, and as she entered the room, all eyes turned to her. Then the other students turned away and kept talking and ignored her. She was startled by their cool reception, but she sat quietly by herself until dinner, without trying to break into their conversations. She saw them stealing glances at her, but not one of them came over to talk to her. It was as though she didn’t exist, and as though they believed that if they didn’t acknowledge her, she’d disappear.

An ancient man in an even more ancient tailcoat called them in to dinner, and the groups then shifted into the dining room and sat down at three long refectory tables that were as old as the château. Everything there was worn and threadbare, but it had a kind of faded grandeur that looked very much Old France.

Dr. Graumont, the head of the school, came to greet her and invited her to sit down next to him. He was extremely polite when he introduced himself, but then spent most of the time speaking to the young man on his other side, who looked to be about thirty. They were conversing about an operation they had both observed that day, and made no attempt to include Annabelle in the conversation. She felt like a ghost, invisible to all.

Later in the meal, Dr. Graumont spoke to her briefly of Dr. de Bré and asked how he was, but he said little more to her than that, and then he bade her good evening, and the others went to their rooms. Not a single one of her fellow students had introduced themselves to her or asked her name. She went up to her room alone, and sat down on her bed, not sure what to make of it, and not nearly as sure as she had been about her decision. It was going to be a long six years if no one ever spoke to her at the château. It was more than obvious that they were not pleased to have a woman in their midst, so they had decided to ignore her. But she wasn’t there to socialize, she had come to learn.

She was in the dining room the next morning, at precisely seven o’clock, as she had been told. Breakfast was sparse, due to the war, and she ate very little. The others came and left without a word to her, and she found her classroom in time for her eight o’clock class. The entire château had been dedicated to the school, which had allowed the family to keep it, and support its upkeep. And once the class began, she remembered why she was there. It was fascinating. They were studying diseases of the kidney, and were shown diagrams of surgeries. And they were to go to the hospital in Nice the next day, where they did all their surgical observations and work with patients. She could hardly wait.

She was still excited by the lecture when they went to lunch, and she was more grateful than ever to Dr. de Bré. And forgetting how unfriendly her classmates had been, she broke into conversation with the Englishman, and commented about the lecture. He stared at her as though she had just taken off all her clothes.

“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” she asked innocently.

“I don’t recall speaking to you,” he said rudely, looking down his nose at her in an icy way, which told her in no uncertain terms that he had no interest whatsoever in her comments.

“No, but I spoke to you,” she said calmly, refusing to be daunted. She had heard him say that he came from four generations of doctors. He was obviously very full of himself, but like her, he was only a firstyear student, although considerably older than she was. He mentioned to someone else that he had gone to Eton and then Cambridge, which explained the discrepancy in their ages. He clearly thought he was a great deal better than she was, and had no desire to waste his time talking to her. The fact that she was also beautiful seemed to have made no impression on him whatsoever. He was far more interested in being unpleasant to her and putting her in her place.

“I’m Annabelle Worthington,” she continued pleasantly, refusing to be bested by him. She wanted to hit him over the head with her plate, but she smiled politely and then turned to the student on her other side, and introduced herself to him. He looked at the young man across from him, as though waiting for a cue from the others, and then smiled in spite of himself.

“I’m Marcel Bobigny,” he said in French, and with that the others looked at him like a traitor, and stared into their plates as they ate.

Annabelle and Marcel struck up a conversation about the lecture they’d had that morning, and for most of lunch there was silence in the room. She was clearly not welcome, and even the head of the school ignored her. She took her notebook and pen, and went to her next class, after thanking Marcel for chatting with her. He bowed politely, and she could hear his cohorts scolding him for talking to her, as she walked away with her head held high.

“I don’t give a damn if she’s great-looking,” she heard one of them whisper to the others. “She has no business being here.” But she had as much right to be there as they did. She had paid her tuition, and was as anxious to be a doctor as they were, possibly more so. But clearly they had made an agreement among themselves to stonewall her.

Their shoddy treatment of her continued through four weeks of classes and three-times-weekly visits to the hospital in Nice, where they heard lectures and saw patients, and she saw that she was being keenly observed by professors and students alike. She sensed that any mistake she made, or incorrect statement she uttered, would be used immediately against her, so she was extremely careful of what she said. So far, she had made no obvious mistakes, and the two papers she had written about diseases of the urinary tract and kidneys had gotten perfect grades.