Seacliff

Chapter thirty: A woman of many talents

1919

Unlike the old, shabby ambulances Saoirse had had to contend with during the war, Dr Mortimer's newfangled vehicle had little to no trouble starting up in the freezing cold of the early morning.

"I booked us a room at the N.B.," James said, as he turned out of the driveway into the road. "We'll go there first, so you can change, then we'll have our breakfast there as well, after the service. Tomorrow, I'll introduce you to my parents. I've told them I would come stay for a bit."

"Won't anyone be attending the wedding?"

"Just my sister-in-law and her brother. We do need witnesses. Did you want to invite anyone? I'm sorry, I didn't stop to ponder the details."

"No, don't worry. I haven't got anyone to invite, anyway."

James made no reply, only focused on the treacherous road ahead.

"Back in France..." Saoirse stared out in the dimness. Grey clouds obscured the sun and a thick mist coated the atmosphere. "The only thing worse than mud was frozen mud. I mainly aided the doctors and worked the hospital wards, I didn't do as much driving as some of the other girls."

A shiver shook her flesh, dislodged by the memory and sharpened by the present.

"But I did make plenty of trips," she resumed, "because we were so often short-handed and worked such long hours. The bloody mud... This nice, smooth road feels like such a luxury by comparison."

Though as if to spite her or test her infamous Irish luck, a loud bang resounded out of the blue and the car tilted sideways before it screeched to a halt.

"Bloody hell!" James exclaimed, slamming the steering wheel. "Today of all days!"

Saoirse was off the car and kneeling by the burst tyre before James had time to round the bonnet.

"It's busted." She stood up. "Have you got a spare?"

He blinked, bewildered. "Of course I've got a spare, but – "

"Let's get to work, then."

James could only follow her round the vehicle in a dumbfounded trance, until her intentions sank in and he tried to prevent her.

"Saoirse, in your condition – "

"I'm pregnant, James, not invalid. Quickly, now, before the road gets busy. The other drivers might not be able to spot us in this fog."

They hauled the spare from the back to the front of the car. James watched awestruck how Saoirse dug into the toolbox.

"By Jove, is there anything you can't do?"

Saoirse snickered. "I joined the Corps – the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry, that is – in 1913. They were still training with horses before the war, hence the yeomanry. But when war broke out and motorcars took over... the Corps adapted. Wartime recruits had to be proficient drivers and mechanics. We had to look after our own cars on the Western Front.

"The men whose jobs we took when the transportation convoys were set up resented us for it. So, we had to work twice as hard – well, in general, but especially on the cars these men would leave behind in a deplorable state. And the roads were always bad, we had no lights..."

James helped her pull off the busted wheel and put on the spare.

"Even though I spent most of my time with the doctors and the blessé, I still had to be able to quickly mend a tyre or change a wheel for those occasions when I would be out driving. I heard a girl once ripped off her petticoat and put it under the wheel to get a grip on a slippery stretch of frozen road!"