Page 18 of The Moonlight Healers

“I meant to say, I am disappointed as well, Matron.” Helene saw the effort as Elisabeth tried to rearrange her features into some semblance of piety. “Disappointed in myself.”

The matron crossed her arms. “As you should be. However, God sometimes gives us trials that are unexpected. He has a purpose in challenging you in this way. And I expect you to do your best to overcome this particular test.”

“I will, Matron,” Elisabeth said with a small bow.

“Paré and Corbin then?” she asked.

They nodded.

“I am Matron Durand. I will be your head matron for the next month. You will be considered probationary for your first six months of training. We have sixteen wards at the Hôtel-Dieu. The first floor is women and children. Second floor, where you are currently standing, is for men only, dedicated to medicineand postoperative surgical care. The third floor is our isolation wards.” She straightened even further. “We are also, as I’m sure you know, currently functioning as a military hospital. Those wards are in the west wing, along with the operating theaters.

“By the end of this six-month period you will have spent time in each and every part of this hospital. From there you will complete the rest of your training, and eventually specialize in one area of nursing. The nurses who graduate from this program are some of the most well equipped in France. That level of training requires discipline and sacrifice,” she said. “It requires hard work and the strictest obedience. Understood?”

“Yes, Matron,” all three girls said in unison.

“All of our girls start exactly where you are. But you’ll learn quickly. You’ll have to. We begin with our basic preliminary training. Fresh linens for every bed. Cleaning the wards. Organizing and refilling supplies. Washing instruments and bedpans. Invalid cookery. It’s not glamorous, but it’s essential, and no one here is above it.”

Shouts came from down the hall. Helene swiveled in the direction of the sound, but Matron Durand didn’t react at all.

“Are we ready to begin then?”

Helene reached up to loosen the tight collar that rested right beneath her chin, her skin itching underneath it.

“Yes, Matron,” they said.

“Wonderful.” She clasped her hands together. “Then follow me, girls. I walk quickly, so please do keep up.”

Without another word she set off, her starched dress swishing around her wide hips, each step brisk and confident, her white cap a fixed beacon in the darkening hallway.

* * *

By the time the dawn arrived, Helene could barely keep her eyes open. Her back ached with every movement, and several blisters were forming on her feet from the stiff uniform shoes.

The night had passed both excruciatingly slowly and at times all too fast, with rapid bursts of instruction that Helene struggled to retain as her mind swirled in the fog of exhaustion.

Nothing Helene had done felt anything like actual nursing. She hadn’t even gone near a patient. Instead, they had spent hours in the toilets, scrubbing bedpans until their hands were raw. When the toilets were finished, Matron Durand had the girls clear every supply cabinet and scour the bottoms with pumice soap. She felt far more like a maid or orderly.

When the sun was nearly up, Helene sat beside Anne and Elisabeth in a supply room near the operating theaters, cutting and folding gauze into small, different-sized shapes and packing them in cylindrical metal drums. She could think of nothing but her bed at home under the eaves, her family sleeping soundly in the house beneath her.

Elisabeth placed a folded piece of gauze into the drum and dropped her scissors with a clang onto the tile floor. “I can’t do another,” she said as she leaned her head back against the peeling white wall. She looked at Helene.

Helene placed her own scissors on the floor and toyed with the gauze in her hand. “Won’t the matron be upset if she finds us?” she asked in a tone of mock worry as Anne continued to fold and cut with meticulous attention. “We were warned to keep up.”

“No one on earth could keep up with that old crow.”

Helene tried to stifle a laugh as Anne glanced up from her work, horrified.

“She is relentless, isn’t she?” Helene asked as she rolled her neck, feeling the ache in her shoulders.

“That’s one word for it.” Elisabeth’s eyes were tired and red, strands of her dark, curly hair hanging down from her cap. She seemed miserable here, and if she had already failed once, why hadn’t she simply gone home?

“Did you ever think about leaving?” Helene asked. She tried to choose her words carefully. “I mean, after you…after…”

“After my abject failure?”

Helene shook her head and started to apologize but Elisabeth waved it away with a wry smile. “Of course, I think about leaving every single day.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

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