231st Australian Auxiliary Hospital, Harefield, England, Monday, 11 November 1918
Lucy eased her back, breathing deeply. Her chest was still sore and all this bending and tugging was not her idea of light duties. There were easier tasks she could be doing that would have made better use of her nursing skills, but the matron refused to let her administer to the patients or work in the dispensary.
As her breathing returned to normal she listened to the church bells in the town. For some reason they’d been ringing for almost an hour. She’d never heard them before. And why today? It’s Monday.
She moved to the next bed and began to tuck the blankets in, careful to leave the patient room to move his feet. It had been four weeks since she’d started on the ward. Four weeks of unhappiness. After
