Charlie's death was a terrible blow to the whole family, but was especially traumatic for Grace and Billy. Thanks to good fortune they were together for a short time immediately after his passing, able to console each other, and attend the funeral together.
Billy had to rejoin his unit almost at once, and Grace was left on her own. She was faced for the first time in her life with the dreadfully difficult choice between duty and family. It was a choice that so often faced women, particularly in time of war. It was hard. Grace loved her Corps, her job, believed deeply and sincerely in what she was doing. On the other hand, her family was constantly in her thoughts. Even when torn by this choice, Grace made up her mind quickly and firmly, accepting without any doubts that her strongest bond was to her family.
Back in Calais she handed over everything into the capable hands of Franklin, and went home to comfort her mother and Charlie's young son. It was a difficult time. Her eldest sister, Agnes, always a homebody who remained with her mother, had not been at all well, and was overjoyed when Grace returned home. One of her other sisters was in South Africa, the other in a very busy job as a doctor in London.
Grace spent far longer back in England than she either intended or visualized, much to her annoyance. When the first distress of Charlie's death had passed, and her mother was back to her old strength, Grace headed for London, to tackle the War Office yet again, and hopefully win them over to her viewpoint, allowing FANYs to drive for the British Army.
On this occasion, however, while still ignoring the offer to provide drivers, the War Office came up with a new scheme to utilize the services of the FANY - and perhaps to keep them quiet? It was not at all what Grace had envisaged, nor was she too happy about it, but was directed by Corps HQ to work with the Authorities.
The idea was for the FANY to take over the staffing and running of a large military hospital, specifically for British wounded, at Bramshott, in Surrey. The request for this facility had been put forward by the Head of the Anglo-French Red Cross Society.
Asked to draw up a plan, Grace spent almost 3 months on the project. The scheme itself only partially met the FANY's modus operandi, omitting the most important aspect, providing and driving ambulances to transport wounded in war zones. This arduous and sometimes dangerous task was, perhaps, the main attraction to the job for these 'intrepid, well-bred young ladies'!
However, it was a foot in the door, thought Grace, and she persevered, put all her energy into drawing up a workable plan, and passed it onto the Red Cross Society HQ. By now, it was into August, and she was heartily tired of the inaction of the past few weeks, and insisted on returning to France while her plans were considered.
Once across the Channel, she spent a few days in Calais being brought up to date by Franklin, then headed for Camp du Ruchard to see how it was progressing. She was dismayed to see how little had been done in her absence, but this was the sort of situation she understood, knew how to deal with. She was back in the saddle again. Metaphorically girding up her loins, she went back to Calais, selected a team to run the place as she wanted it. First of all, she called upon her old friend Cole-Hamilton, the staunch and dependable Coley to be Director of Ruchard. Her close friend Chris Nicholson was next, and a trained nurse, Nurse Lovell, was hired specially by the Corps to look after the large number of tubercular patients. Initially two other FANYs were included, to complete the team.
Grace , Coley and Chris set off first, to get things organized. It did not start well! 'The best laid plans' certainly went agley to begin with. A boiling hot day, bright sun and blue skies might be thought encouraging, but motor tyres in those days were not as they are today. Grace described the trip, with classic understatement: "The journey was not without its amusements, - and its trials!" In fact it must have been hell, and a lot of people would have given up. They were travelling in a small Ford, named 'Le Petit Camerade', up to now renowned for its reliability. A tyre burst before reaching Boulogne. Soon remedied, another went; then another; and before long both spares had gone, on that long, hot gritty road.
Grace admitted : "I chafed and fumed and was thoroughly disagreeable." In her usual way, Chris sailed through it all without turning a hair. Coley's reactions are not recorded, but she was known to have a short fuse on occasions.
Grace goes on: "Instead of having tea at Rouen, we were yet 12 kilometres from that stately town at 11 o'clock at night." They dined on coffee and eggs at a wayside café, and did their best to get the car back on the road. This, by means of removing the sacking wrapped round a brand new tent they had bought for use at Rouchard, tying it round the relevant wheels, using rope cut from that selfsame tent. Necessity is the mother of invention!
"We rumbled and bumped into Rouen towards midnight." writes Grace. There was only one garage open, and a drunk driver was arguing with the garage hand, demanding paraffin for his headlamps. The garage hand eventually gave him petrol instead, deliberately or by accident, and moments later the lamps had gone up in flames.
Fortunately, a passing car with three Red Cross men in it, had pulled up to see what was happening. Grace spoke to them, explained her problems, and they offered to give her a lift to the Supply Depot. From then on the whole adventure got more and more bizarre.
On the way, they spotted a small, open Peugeot going in the opposite direction., "That's the man you want" shouted the Red Cross driver, swung around in a swift U-turn, and set off in pursuit. The Peugeot had to stop a bit further on, and the Red Cross car drew up alongside. Grace says: "I was hoisted unceremoniously beside the pilot [driver] of the Peugeot, and the Red Cross car sped into the darkness and vanished."
When Grace recovered her breath she glanced at her companion. He was an officer, immaculate in khaki, Sam Browne belt, face totally without expression. He looked as though he was used to this kind of thing happening all the time. Grace remembered:
"Can I do anything for you?" he asked.
"Yes" I answered frankly, "I want at least 2 Ford tyres and 2 inner tubes, and I want them tonight."
At that he swung the car around, and drove off in a new direction, chatting amiably as he went. And quite incredibly, Grace recalls that in the course of that conversation: "so small is the world that he knew well friends I had visited in New Zealand.!"
"Here's the place." he called, and blew the horn at the great gates looming in front of them. When there was no reply, the young officer got out and scrambled over the top of the gate. Grace says: "I sat in the car and waited for a shot to break the stillness, and for myself to be arrested as a spy!"
But apparently all was well, the gate swung open, and they drove up to a long, covered building. A sleepy Corporal appeared, and urged on by the officer, sorted through the piles of tyres and tubes, eventually producing all that Grace wanted. Within half an hour they were back at the garage. Chris and the subaltern began to replace the tyres and tubes, while Coley slumbered in the back of the car, until waking, and practical as ever, brewed Bovril on a small 'Tommy cooker', and "saved our lives" according to Grace.
At last their troubles seemed to be over, and at about 4 o'clock in the morning they headed, once more, for Ruchard. Stopping on the way for breakfast and an hour's sleep, they finally arrived at around midday. It had been a traumatic journey, leaving them all weary, wilting, and pondering over the astonishingly improbable events of the night before.
But not for long.