Page 32 of If You Were the Only Girl in the World
“I’d like to work on this. I know I need more background. More training. My work at Neuilly does not signify as I have no patients exhibiting psychological trauma or wounds of the head or facial tissue. What do you suggest I do?”
“I can offer you a meeting of our staff. You could come to hear our reports to each other.”
“I’d like that. When is it?”
“Once a week on Fridays at three in the afternoon.”
“I work night shifts and have Saturdays off. This meeting is one I will arrange to attend.” She would have less sleep than usual on Fridays but she’d have the joy of new exciting work.
“I would take you to the dining hall, if you wish. I will warn you that a few of the patients have suffered extremely. They sit alone. They do not speak. A few cannot. They have lost portions of their tongues or parts of the musculature of the jaw. Many have lost an eye and wear patches.”
“I will not react oddly, Doctor.”
He tipped his head. “I had to speak of it. We have had nurses whom we had to dismiss.”
“I do not wilt, sir. Classes which were composed entirely of men have made my skin thick.”
Much more rewarding was her friendship with Aurore Boyer.
Since Katrina had first visited Nate’s family with him, Aurore had come to Paris three times. They had gone to La Farnaise, an old and famous restaurant once said to be patronized by Louis the Fifteenth. They had indulged in raw oysters and a huge platter of spiced shrimp and crab with frites. For dessert, they splurged on creme brûlée. Theadditionwas an enormous bill, but she happily paid for both of them, and promised herself not to feel too guilty for what she knew would be a one-time pleasure.
Two weeks later Aurore returned to the City. She winked in naughty temptation and persuaded Katrina to trust her with a surprise. “The venue is risqué. Are you willing?”
“Why not?” Katrina was a physician who knew the human body well and prudery was never part of her personality. Back home she’d gone once with two men who were in training with her to Hell’s Kitchen in Manhattan and a burlesque show. The proprietor had at first objected to admitting her but she argued with him and her male colleagues backed her. He relented. She’d been startled by the nudity and the ripe vulgarity, but loved the variety of the entertainment. She didn’t approve of the jokes made about women, but the experience had taught her to learn how, as many would say, “the other half lived”.
On New Year’s Day, Katrina celebrated by taking the train south to visit with Aurore and her parents. She took with her a bottle of good Bordeau as her thanks for changing her attitude to her everyday life in the war-ravaged city.
In late January, Aurore arrived and took her to a cabaret up on the Butte of Montmartre for dinner and a review. “The Moulin Rouge burned down last year and we’ve no idea when the owners might rebuild it. At the moment, this is the finest musicale in the City. I think you’ll like the chanteuse. Her voice is thrilling.”
The lady had a contralto that rivaled a good male baritone. What’s more she carried a tune very well, a rare quality for many singers in cafes.
The two of them walked a few blocks after the show, the streets of Paris on a chilly January evening empty of pedestrians.
“I wonder if Paris will ever return to its gay self,” Aurore ventured on a sigh. “I hate to think we cannot capture the aura of romance and entertainment that we had.”
“I remember how the streets seemed to vibrate with laughing people,” Katrina said.
“You were here when?”
“Eight years ago. To visit Mister Worth’s studio and the jewelers for my tiaras.”
“You had your debut here?”
“In London. I was given a rousing one. My father spared no expense. My mother enjoyed it all tremendously.”
“My sister and I passed up the traditional Parisian parties for girls of our station. I never wanted it. Neither did my sister, Corinne. Mama thought that wise of us. And Papa? Ah, well. He said he had the money and if we wanted it, he’d gladly give it to us. But Corinne went to train with a well-known champagne house in Reims and they never asked for compensation. We soon learned why. Corinne married the son of the owner. When the Germans invaded in ‘fourteen and swept into the Champagne department, Corinne and her husband Marcel carved out a cave beneath their cellars, stored their best bottles there and walled it up, hidden from the invaders. Then the two of them went south to Provence. They wait to return and make more glorious bubbles than before.”
“And you? When you did not have a debut, what did you do?”
“I went to medical school and met my husband. We married while we were training. He was to be a surgeon. When war was declared, he joined immediately.” She grew solemn and jammed her hands in her coat pockets.
They walked for a while in silence. “One of his friends who was with him at the end said he suffered with his injuries for days. I think of him and how he always encouraged his patients. I hope someone did that for him. He was…inspirational. You would have liked him.”
“You loved him dearly.” Katrina put her arm around her friend’s waist and hugged her close. “I would have loved him because he was so worthy of your regard.”
“When the war is over, I want to go to find his grave. Bring him home and give him a proper burial.”
“He would like that.”
