Chapter Text
He knew what first drew his notice to Dr Reid: that pale hair stood out. Andrew remembered seeing the new doctor in the Royal Free’s casualty department as a medical student on rounds at the EMS hospital in Bridstow. When introduced, he chose not to let Dr Reid know they’d met before; but a week later one of the other orderlies mentioned Andrew had been at Bridstow at the same time Dr Reid would have been completing his training there. He half expected Dr Reid to say something, and when he didn’t, reminded himself of the vast social gulf between orderlies and medical staff, quite apart from potential distrust because he was a conscientious objector. Not that that seemed to mean as much now. The Friend’s Ambulance Service and all the practical help C.O.s had been providing in hospitals over the last three years had earned them all a certain respect. Dr Reid continued to say nothing and Andrew decided he must not recall the connection, which, it had to be admitted, was tenuous. After all, Andrew had not remained at the EMS very long.
Seeing Dr Reid brought back other memories from three years ago. There had been considerable camaraderie amongst the C.O.s at Bridstow which was missing in this large London hospital. He had also developed a healthy respect for how the nurses coped with the conditions there: living in a drafty ward hastily converted for their use, with no hope of privacy, chronically short-staffed, and utterly unappreciated by the doctors who barked orders without ever fully realising how difficult it might be to carry them out (and never a word of thanks). Some of the patients had been stiff when the C.O.s first arrived; but the overworked nurses had greeted them with relief and gratitude. He had made friends there in a way he simply had not at this hospital, where the facilities were better and the nurses seemed to keep more to themselves.
And, of course, seeing Dr Reid reminded Andrew of Laurie. How could it not? They had written to one another erratically in the intervening years. Andrew remembered the mixed feelings when he had received Laurie’s first letter: his relief to learn that horrid little man had not been Laurie’s friend, followed by his disappointed realisation Laurie was nonetheless involved in that kind of relationship. He had struggled with the decision whether or not to reply, in the end (after several weeks) had, but the easy friendship he had felt previously had never fully returned.
It was not simply a matter of distance. Andrew had prayed a lot; but for once prayer brought no answers, only more questions about his own feelings. Laurie seemed happy, which raised more questions for him. Not that Andrew wanted him to be unhappy. It was simply confusing. God created Eve for Adam, not another Adam. There was the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. He wasn’t someone to take the Bible literally; few Friends were. But his reading of scripture suggested homosexuality was wrong.
Yet Laurie, who had impressed him as a decent and moral person, according to his lights, as well as kind, was involved with it. Not always right but there was no malice in him and while he might, like everyone, occasionally make wrong choices, he was not the kind of person to knowingly sin. In Andrew’s world, sin did not lead to peace of mind. Laurie’s letters radiated contentment. There was no doubt he was busy with war work; Laurie continued to get pain from his leg which was sometimes better but never seemed to stay better; there was no doubt he missed his friend (even in his mind Andrew shied away from calling him a lover); when his ship was away on patrol; and he had been frank about his worry when Ralph drank that bit too much (though Andrew hadn’t heard anything like that for quite some time, so maybe it wasn’t a current problem). But nonetheless there was also no denying he felt he had made the right choice. ‘Wages of sin’ this was not.
Normally Andrew took his doubts to Dave; but he was strangely reluctant with this one, though exactly why he could not say. Dave had never said anything against Laurie but Andrew had a sense he disapproved of their correspondence. So for the first time he did not ask advice and instead simply buried himself in work.
The Blitz made that easy and once the bombing reduced and there seemed less call for emergency work on the streets of London, he found himself at the Royal Free, with new routines and different work to learn, which also helped. He made new friends, not all of them Friends. He met Judy, who helped run the canteen. They went to a few shows together after work and shared a few kisses; but when she took him home to meet her parents he knew it wouldn’t work. Her father had been wounded at the third battle of Ypres in 1917, and made his disapproval known of Andrew’s civilian status. It came as a bit of a shock after the respect he’d been shown at the hospital. It seemed Judy realised the difficulties too and the relationship (it couldn’t really be called a romance) cooled. Fairly soon afterward Judy was seen walking out with an able seaman from the naval trawler Meror and a few weeks later they announced their engagement. The fact the engagement was short-lived (the Meror hit a mine in the North Sea and sank with all hands a few months later) did not change things. Of course she was in mourning at first; but it was not just that. ‘There is nothing so cold as old porridge’ he remembered his aunt saying apropos a neighbour’s unhappy love affair; it was very true.
People around him paired off, and he found himself invited to engagement parties. But to Andrew those romances often seemed unlikely. War brought people together who might otherwise not have met, but marriage was for life, not just the duration. Andrew decided wartime wasn’t really conducive to making sensible decisions about who to spend the rest of your life with and pushed firmly into the back of his mind his growing awareness that, unlike others round him, he did not feel the same kind of attraction to anyone. He was tired. He worked too hard and was tired. That was all.
Seeing Dr Reid reminded Andrew of uncomfortable things, which made him feel rather awkward, at first. However, that feeling passed fairly soon. The casualty department had been short-staffed with doctors working double shifts. The extra pair of hands, even of a junior doctor (when it was really an experienced consultant who was wanted) were sorely needed and much appreciated, particularly since Dr Reid was really a very agreeable chap. Routines shifted and settled again round the additional help and the working life of a busy London hospital went on as usual.
That changed on Monday. The first ambulance to arrive brought news of more casualties to come. An unexploded bomb had been found buried in some rubble beside Clerkenwell St. No one had realised there were two; in making the first safe something had dislodged the second which went off outside the section cordoned off for safety. Andrew helped with moving patients off casualty up to wards in preparation for the incoming flood of victims, and took triage trays to the supply cupboard to restock them with bandages. As the wounded began to arrive he helped direct them as he was asked by the nurses and doctors. Out of the corner of one eye he could see Judy with her trolley providing cups of sweet tea to those who were shocked and disoriented but not really injured, normally family to the ones the doctors were treating.
Dave was one of the last victims brought in: crushed when a wall fell on him as he was trying to free an old woman from debris. Andrew had taken a patient up to theatre; one of the nurses was waiting by the lift when he returned and took him to bay five where Dr Reid was reapplying a pressure bandage to one leg. Dave looked positively grey but his eyelids flickered open and he stared straight at Andrew who moved swiftly to his side.
“Bertie,” Dave moaned and his hand flexed slightly.
Andrew clasped it firmly, and said, “It’s Andrew; I’m here, Dave.”
But Dave didn’t seem fully aware and simply repeated ‘Bertie’ over and over, in a fading voice.
Andrew stood awkwardly, aware there could be no hope. Even though he was just an orderly, he’d had enough experience to tell. Nonetheless, he caught Dr Reid’s eye and when the doctor came over, asked in a whisper. He was not surprised when Dr Reid shook his head, before leaving them alone.
Andrew sat in the chair by the bed holding Dave’s hand. He wasn’t sure if he even knew someone was there; but it was the right thing to do. Dave had always been there for him; the least he could do was stay with him. No one should die alone. He was there several hours; his left foot went to sleep. Periodically a nurse came in and checked Dave’s pulse; but shallow though his breath became, still he lived. Once or twice his eyes flickered open and he called Andrew by his father’s name. Andrew didn’t correct him, simply said, “I am here.” He remembered how Laurie had wanted to pretend when Charlot was dying. This was different, of course; it was not as if he were deliberately pretending, and it was not a matter of faith. Besides, events of the last three years had taught him decisions were not always simple and ethics could be grey. Nonetheless, he was not sure Dave would have agreed; he always seemed so sure what was right, although tolerant of Andrew’s uncertainties.
Dave opened his eyes once more, looked at Andrew and smiled slightly as he exhaled Bertie’s name. He did not inhale again. Andrew sat, still holding his hand as the tears quietly slipped down his face. Presently a nurse came in, realised what had happened and called Dr Reid who confirmed death.
He was, of course, in shock. At some level he knew that even though he was doing his best to sound rational, he wasn’t really taking everything in. Dr Reid was going off shift and said he would see him home. On the way he was asked if he lived alone.
“No, no,” he assured. “A group of us share.”
He truly did expect someone to be there but in fact the house was empty and silent. Dr Reid refused just to leave him, so Andrew took him through to the kitchen. It was the note from Dave on the work-worn beech table which brought home the enormity of the day’s events home. Andrew stopped short, attention fixed on that note; and it was his companion who pulled out a chair for him to sit, pulled across the blackout curtain.
“Here, you must eat something.”
Andrew surfaced from his reverie to find Dr Reid holding out a small plate with two slices of toast with a scraping of jam and a mug of cocoa.
“Sorry; I didn’t mean to be a bother.” After a pause he added, “Dr. Reid you really mustn’t feel you have to stay.”
“Call me Sandy,” said the doctor, “and there is no need to apologise. Of course I will stay, at least until your friends are back. No–” he waved away Andrew’s automatic polite protest. “You would do the same for me.”
He fixed himself a cup of tea before taking another chair at the table. “Tell me about Dave,” he asked. “How did you know him?”
And Andrew found himself talking compulsively, explaining how his parents had died and Dave had supported him when his aunt and uncle had rejected him. Sandy was a good listener and Andrew found himself telling more than he ever would have imagined he’d say to a man who was little more than a stranger. He said as much.
“But of course, we are not total strangers,” said Sandy gently, “even if we have not been best friends. After all, we have worked together for several months.”
“And I remember you from Bridstow,” blurted out Andrew, feeling now guilty that he had not said anything when Sandy first joined the Royal Free.
“And we ‘almost’ met in Bridstow,” calmly agreed Sandy.
“You knew?” Andrew sounded surprised. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Did you want me to?” replied Sandy. “I didn’t think you wanted to be reminded it didn’t work out between you and Laurie.”
Now Andrew was truly astonished. He took a deep breath, then swallowed hard as his gorge rose, and thought the better of saying anything.
“Oh dear,” said Sandy. “You didn’t mean that at all, did you?”
There was a long, exceedingly uncomfortable, pause. In the end Andrew simply shook his head.
“And I have put my foot in it. I am truly sorry.”
Another person Andrew might not have believed; but Sandy he did. Granted Sandy was only a junior doctor and they always tended to be more human than the consultants; but even so he was the least arrogant doctor Andrew had ever met. Besides, he seemed genuinely sympathetic, and he had been kind enough to shepherd Andrew home.
“Now is definitely not the time for discussion.”
Andrew again shook his head, relieved at Sandy’s tact, also relieved because he could hear the front door open. A few moments later Tom entered the kitchen, and in the ensuing introductions plus explanations of why Sandy was there, Andrew could almost pretend he had not heard what Sandy said about Laurie and him. Almost but not quite.