{"id":1294,"date":"2019-05-16T22:56:51","date_gmt":"2019-05-16T21:56:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.stjosvox.co.uk\/?p=1294"},"modified":"2019-05-19T20:52:39","modified_gmt":"2019-05-19T19:52:39","slug":"an-extract-from-the-rising-tide-a-novel-by-rhiannon-dunbar","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.stjosvox.co.uk\/?p=1294","title":{"rendered":"An Extract from ‘The Rising Tide’ – A Novel by Rhiannon Dunbar"},"content":{"rendered":"\n


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With Ross gone, it was just Susan and I. There seemed to be a tension there that wasn\u2019t there before Ross left for the war. We\u2019d go hours, even days without talking. It was as if a barrier had been created and neither of us dared to break it. And when we did it normally ended in tears, so we tried our best to avoid it at all costs. A month after Ross had left for the war it was the 17th February 1944 and I was turning sixteen. I had seen advertisements all over town asking for female recruits, of all nursing abilities, to go and help with the war.
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The thought had obviously crossed my mind but I knew I had no experience and when I looked closer I realised it said you had to be eighteen to sign up. I\u2019d spoken to Susan about joining but every time I\u2019d bring it up she\u2019d shout and scream at me relentlessly about not wanting to lose another child. I felt useless to the cause. Here I was, perfectly able of helping out, but the government seemed to think I was too young. I spent my days helping Susan on the farm, harvesting the crops. It was an important job, of course, but not what I wanted to be doing. I wanted to help on the front line. Help the soldiers who were fighting for our country.
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And so, two months later on the 17th April, I went down to the recruitment office whilst Susan was at the farm. It was my day off and I\u2019d told her that I was going shopping in town for new ribbons. I\u2019d thought about what I was about to do and, although I knew I\u2019d be breaking the law, I also knew it was for the greater good. I stepped inside the daunting building on the high street, straightened myself up, and walked down the long dark corridor until I reached a desk with a small, old woman sat at it.
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\u201cI\u2019d like to register to be a front line nurse.\u201d I said, plucking up all the courage I had. \u201cPlease.\u201d I added quickly. The woman just sat there, staring me up and down. I knew this was going to happen and I sighed in defeat. I\u2019ve always looked younger than I am because I\u2019m very small. I\u2019m about the height of an average fourteen year old, yet I\u2019m sixteen. \u201cAge.\u201d The woman asked bluntly, speaking at last. \u201cE-eighteen.\u201d I managed to get out. \u201cDate of birth?\u201d I thought for a moment. Doing the math in my head. \u201c17th February 1923.\u201d The woman nodded, not seeming to care about the amount of time it took me to say my date of birth. \u201cAny experience?\u201d \u201cA little, yes.\u201d I lied, not wanting to be rejected from duty. The woman nodded at me. \u201cTake a seat in there.\u201d
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I breathed a sigh of relief, not realising I had been holding it in, before trudging over to the room she had pointed at. You didn\u2019t exactly have to be a great mathematician to lie about your age I thought. No wonder lots of other girls had already done it. I sat down next to the two other girls there who looked at least four years older than me, maybe even more. The hardest part was over with. She didn\u2019t even ask for a birth certificate. I suppose it was because they were so very low on nurses that they\u2019d take any one they could get their hands on, I thought. But, my thought was interrupted by a harsh, deep voice. \u201cNext.\u201d I looked up. \u201cYes, come on.\u201d
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I followed the voice into another dark room opposite and was motioned to sit on the edge of the hospital like bed. \u201cWe just need to do a simple check over to make sure you\u2019re fit for the front lines.\u201d The stout man began, opening his bag. \u201cAnd we\u2019d also like to know your name and age for our records.\u201d I unclasped my sweating hands, making an effort not to look nervous. \u201cElizabeth Winston, age eighteen.\u201d I said confidently. \u201cMhm. Now, stand up.\u201d I stood up whilst the man measured my height with a tape measure. \u201cQuite petite for your age aren\u2019t we?\u201d I thought for a minute before replying. \u201cOh, yes Sir. I\u2019ve always been on the small side.\u201d \u201cRight. Now sit back on the bed for me. I see you said you have some experience.\u201d \u201cSome, yes.\u201d I said. \u201cGood, we need more experienced nurses on the front line.\u201d I suddenly started to panic, knowing I had lied about my experience.
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Another ten minutes went by and I was told that I\u2019d passed the health examination. I was then taken into yet another room to fill out a form. Name, age, date of birth, current occupation, signature. As soon as I\u2019d signed the paper I gave it to the same small woman at reception like I was told to. She filed it away into a cabinet behind her desk before looking at a sheet in front of her. \u201cYes, let\u2019s see. They\u2019ve placed you at the front line near the south of Belgium. You\u2019ll be working with mostly British soldiers, although there\u2019s a few of us there too.\u201d I nodded. \u201cWhen do I leave?\u201d I asked. \u201cIn two days. Meet here at seven a.m. sharp with only your essentials packed. We\u2019ll give you your uniform.\u201d \u201cThank you.\u201d I said before walking out of the recruitment office and swiftly back home.
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\u201cYOU WHAT?\u201d Susan screamed, tears welling in her eyes. \u201cMom I had to! I feel so helpless here and what difference does two years really <\/em>make? I can do exactly the same job as the other girls can!\u201d I screamed back, feeling the anger rise in my cheeks. My temper had always been my weak point and I hated it. One second I\u2019d be calm and the next I\u2019d snap. Susan stepped towards me and cupped my face in her hands. She seemed suddenly calm. \u201cYou shouldn\u2019t have lied Elizabeth.\u201d I moved out from her grip, still flaming with anger. \u201cI\u2019m not the only one doing it you know?\u201d I spat back. \u201cIt still doesn\u2019t mean it was right.\u201d \u201cI know, I..\u201d My tone then softened, noticing her expression \u201cYou\u2019re going to let me go. Right?\u201d
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Susan sighed. \u201cYes. But only if you know what you\u2019re getting yourself in to.\u201d I smiled. \u201cThank you. I\u2019ll do you proud.\u201d She took my small hand in hers, grasping it tightly. \u201cFrom what I remember, Ross was working on the front line somewhere near Belgium. You might even see him.\u201d I knew it was unlikely as Belgium had many front lines, but I didn\u2019t want to hurt her anymore than I already had. \u201cMaybe.\u201d I whispered before hugging her tightly, pressing my face into her shoulder.
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Two days passed and the hours ticked by slower than I could have ever imagined! But then the day came. I woke up, just as the golden sun was rising outside my window, at five a.m. exactly. I got dressed in my usual pale blue dress, white socks and brown leather shoes before latching up my suitcase full of my essentials and heading down the stairs. Susan was waiting for me in the living room, still dressed in her nightwear. \u201cDon’t forget the ribbon.\u201d Her words eerily echoing the words of Ross from only a month before.
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I stepped towards her and placed my leather case onto the floor with a slight thud. She then proceeded to walk around to the back of me and tie the red ribbon onto my tight, wavy ponytail before stepping back in front of me and straightening out my fringe. \u201cGood luck.\u201d Was all she could manage before breaking down in tears and giving me a quick embrace before running into the kitchen, her dress flowing, as elegantly as always, behind her.
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The usually busy streets were quiet, with no footsteps to be heard except my own. As I made my way down the street it was the first time, I realised, that I had ever properly looked to take in the beautiful surroundings. The cobbled streets were grey but shining brightly from the dew drops, the buildings all a cream colour with the doors all made from a deep auburn wood. I was just gazing out into the golden horizon above the church when I finally heard someone else\u2019s footsteps. The footsteps became faster and more frequent until I snapped my head around to see a tall, lanky girl running towards me. \u201cAre you off to the recruitment office?\u201d She said between gasps. \u201cYes.\u201d I replied bluntly, not wanting to stop in fear of being late. \u201cWell,\u201d she gave a sigh of relief \u201cI wasn’t sure if we left for Belgium from here or not you see!\u201d I raised an eyebrow at the girl. \u201cWe were told where to meet when we signed up.\u201d
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I quickened my pace, with my suitcase in hand, the office wasn’t too much farther. The tall girl was still following me and I could hear her footsteps now jogging to catch up with me. \u201cI know, but, I forget things you see.\u201d \u201cMhmm.\u201d I replied, carrying on and not bothering to turn around. \u201cGuess we’ll be seeing more of each other then?\u201d The girl suddenly ran in front me, causing me to stumble to a halt. \u201cGrace.\u201d She said. \u201cGrace Clark.\u201d I nodded, before replying. \u201cElizabeth Winston. But we really should be going, we’ve got to be there at 7.\u201d And with that I set off again, Grace following straight behind me.
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As we turned round the next corner of the cobbled street I saw that there was a growing crowd of young girls gathered outside the office. However, they all looked to be a lot older than Grace, never mind me. \u201cHow old are you?\u201d I asked her as we reached the crowd. \u201cNineteen. You?\u201d \u201cI\u2019m\u2026eighteen.\u201d I finally stuttered out, sensing that she saw straight through my lie. \u201cRight.\u201d She replied slowly before pointing to an older lady in uniform now coming out of the front door to the office. \u201cThat’s Marlene Lawrence.\u201d Grace whispered to me. \u201cWho?\u201d \u201cShe’s our mentor\u2026 leader. You know, whatever you want to call her. She’ll place us in our regiments.\u201d I nodded, still looking at the woman. She was small and stout, her long grey hair tied back into a slick bun on the top of her head. Her skin paler than I\u2019d ever seen.
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\u201cDo you know where you’ll be working?\u201d Grace asked, snapping me out of my gaze. \u201cOh, yeah. I’m working on the front line near the south of Belgium but they haven’t told me exactly where.\u201d She looked shook. \u201cThe front line?\u201d Her eyebrows furrowed together. \u201cElizabeth, they only send the older, experienced nurses to the front lines.\u201d \u201cWhere are you going then?\u201d I asked, worry rising in my stomach, not wanting to be the only girl at the front line who had lied about their experience.  \u201cA local village to help out at a hospital taking in injured soldiers. And as far as I know, most of the other younger girls are going to the same place as me.\u201d I looked at her, meeting her strong brown eyes for the first time. They fixed onto my bright hazel ones and, in an instant, I knew what we were both thinking.
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