Page 28 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
‘Shouldn’t we take her to the hospital and have one of the doctors examine her?’ Jean asks.
‘We can’t risk it,’ says Nesta. ‘No one must know what happened and that includes the doctors. We take care of our own. Right, Bully?’
‘Thank you, Sister James, I couldn’t be in better hands than with all of you.’
Nesta gently takes the water bottle from her.
‘It’s OK, Bully, it’s done its job, you can have it back when we’ve finished.’
Vivian reluctantly releases the bottle, and they get their first look at the exit wound on her stomach.
The nurses form a circle around her.
With bandages crafted from a torn Navy shirt, Nesta pronounces the wound free from infection and healing nicely. She apologises she has no food to give her; some will arrive in a few hours, hopefully.
‘It’s OK, they gave Kingsley and me a drink and something to eat at the village while they were interrogating us. If it’s all the same with you, I’d like to sleep even if it is on concrete. I’m finally with friends and I feel safe for the first time in a long time.’
‘All right, girls, let’s get out of here so Bully can get some rest,’ Nesta orders.
Before they leave, each woman gives Vivian a hug, a kiss, a few words of support.
Nesta hovers outside the hut, deep in thought.
‘What are you thinking, Nesta?’ Jean too is lingering, equally dazed by Vivian’s story.
‘I’m thinking we do have to tell someone else what happened, in case …’
‘… In case we don’t survive? Is that what you’re thinking?’
‘I am. Vivian witnessed the mass slaughter of unarmed people. These are serious, brutal crimes. When the time comes, those accountable should answer for their actions, and if her story can’t be told, then they won’t.’
‘Who do you suggest we talk to?’
‘I don’t know yet, but I’ll find the right people.’
That night, one of the nurses gently shakes Vivian awake. ‘Come with me, there’s someone who wants to see you in the hospital hut.’
Bully is met at the entrance by a British nurse.
‘Thank you for coming, Sister Bullwinkel, there’s someone here asking for you. He’s fading fast, I’m afraid,’ the nurse tells her.
Halfway down the hut, Vivian pauses by the bedside of a patient she immediately recognises as Kingsley. She sits down beside him and takes his hand.
‘I’m here, Kingsley, I’m here. It’s Vivian.’
Kingsley stirs, and slowly opens his eyes.
‘Sister?’
‘Yes, Kingsley, Sister Vivian.’
‘Thank you … for everything … thank you,’ he stammers.
‘Is it time, Kingsley?’ Vivian asks softly. Without a real hospital, the young private is never going to make it, she knows that much.
‘It is,’ he sighs.
‘Then thank you, Kingsley. I’ll never forget you.’
