Free Soldier Girl by Annie Murray Page B

the orderly informed them.
    Sure enough, several of the nit-sufferers in the ‘disgrace’ line were bottle-blondes. Doris was one of them.
    Molly’s hands broke out in a sweat. Thank God Lena and Cath were nearby! She nudged Cath and winked at her. ‘’Ere – I hope you ain’t got ’em – you and me’re sleeping a bit too close together for comfort.’
    ‘Ah no – I don’t think so,’ Cath said, evidently not worried.
    ‘Don’t they get nits down on the farm then?’
    Molly suddenly found herself looking into the annoyed and penetrating eyes of Corporal Phoebe Morrison. Molly could smell stale cigarette smoke on her breath.
    ‘Whenever there’s a racket it always seems to be coming from you, Fox! Now just pipe down, will you?’
    As she moved away, to Molly’s amazement, Honor leaned close to her and whispered, ‘The Gorgon!’
    Molly grinned and was about to reply when the medical orderly reached them.
    ‘Ah,’ he said, and with only the very briefest of glances into Honor’s pale locks, he moved on to Molly. ‘Another peroxide – sure to be alive. You get over there.’
    ‘What? Me?’ Molly protested, horrified. ‘No – you’ve got it wrong. You ain’t even bothered to check! There ain’t no nits in my hair – I’d know if there were. And my hair’s not out of a bottle neither – it’s always been this colour!’
    ‘Don’t argue, Fox!’ the corporal commanded.
    But Molly’s blood was up. ‘I ain’t going over there without you checking it first. Just ’cause you all think you’re better than me! There ain’t nothing crawling about in my hair, I can tell yer that!’
    She was so furiously resistant that the orderly, who was moving on to check Cath’s hair, impatiently came back for another look.
    ‘No point in wasting time if there’s nothing in there, I suppose . . .’ He pulled Molly’s hair roughly this way and that. ‘No, there’s no sign. You can stay where you are.’
    ‘See? Told yer, daint I?’ Molly said loudly. Her legs were shaking so much she could hardly control them, but she wasn’t going to let anyone see that.
    ‘Private Fox!’ the corporal stormed at her. ‘Silence, or you’ll be on a charge! This is your last warning!’
    Molly stared at her feet, blushing mutinously. Her insides were churning with dread. This was even before the free-from-infection inspection. That was bound to be even worse.
    When they got in for the free-from-infection they were told, ‘Right – strip – down to your pants and brassiere!’
    There were cries of consternation all round.
    ‘Oh no – they don’t mean it!’
    ‘Surely they’re not going to herd us in like cattle . . .’
    ‘. . . and the doctor’s a man!’
    Fingers shaking, Molly unbuttoned her tunic, trying, this time, to do what the likes of Win were doing – to obey orders and suffer in silence. But there was a sick twisting in her stomach and her hands were cold and clammy. She felt very small and frightened, and was worried someone would notice. But as the recruits laid their items of clothing one by one on the wooden chairs, attention was diverted to a commotion going on further along: Honor had slithered to the floor in a faint. Win, Ruth and some of the others rushed to her aid. Molly quietly peeled off a stocking. She could smell sweat – hers and other people’s. For a moment her legs gave way and she sat heavily on the chair.
    ‘You all right, Moll?’ Cath whispered.
    ‘Yeah, ta – just getting my other stocking off.’ She wrenched the corners of her mouth up. She didn’t show weakness – not her, not Molly Fox!
    In those moments she was back in the doctor’s brown waiting room in Vauxhall, sitting beside Jenny Button, aged nine, terrified, but with the old dull ache deep in her guts. There and then she had wanted desperately to pee, and she had to go to great lengths to hold it in.
    ‘You can’t keep going on like this,’ Jenny Button had said. It was during that brief, heavenly