She was scarcely aware of Uncle’s sermon. After the service, Edmond’s family were among the first to leave. Would they greet her as they passed her pew or linger outside to speak to her? Beatrice walked past, pausing only to fling her a poisonous look. Mrs Derwent, wearing a large hat decorated with an abundance of artificial flowers, swept past without acknowledging her. Only Mr Derwent looked towards her and nodded politely. By the time Amy left church, their motor car was drawing away.
That afternoon Amy retreated to her room. Never had she felt so desperate. Edmond had been supportive in his letters, but was he simply acting out of loyalty? Now his family were disgusted with her and most of their friends and relatives had learnt what had happened.
She picked up her pen, the fatal pen bearing her name, now returned from the police, and began writing to Edmond.
I don’t expect you to stick by me after what happened, she wrote. You’re close to your family, and enjoy a comfortable life with them. I don’t want to ruin your life. You’ll be better off without me. She broke off and laid down her pen.
Wait, how could I be so foolish? She thought. He says he still loves me and wants to marry me. Yes, but when he’s had time to reflect on what’s happened he’ll change his mind. I should let him go, without any fuss.
She went back to her letter.
So just forget about me, she wrote, and find yourself a decent girl of your own class, who won’t give you any trouble.
She dabbed at the tear that had fallen on her letter.
I’ll always love you. I remember our times together, respect you and wish you every happiness.
Yours, Amy
She folded the paper and reached for an envelope, but on the brink of inserting it, she hesitated.
He says he still loves me, she reminded herself. How will he feel receiving this letter when he’s facing danger in Flanders?
She gripped the paper and screwed it into a ball. I simply can’t send that, she decided.
She began a fresh letter.
Darling, she wrote, you say you love me and still want to marry me, but are you certain, after all that’s happened? I can’t hold you to your promise. If you’ve any doubts I’ll release you from the engagement.
She continued much as before, urging him not to stick with her if it would ruin his life, and completed the letter wishing him future happiness.
He loves me, she told herself desperately. He’ll write back quickly, assuring me that we are to be married. But if he has any doubts – even though I’ll be miserable for the rest of my days, I’ll release him.
She put the letter in its envelope, slipped out to the pillar box and posted it.
She did not tell anyone what she had done, waiting for his reply. Would he reaffirm his love in spite of everything? she wondered. She convinced herself that he must still care for her.
If she received a letter from him quickly it would have been written before he received hers. Monday and Tuesday passed with no letter. Her spirits sank as more days passed without any word. He could be deciding how to reply, or simply ending their relationship without comment, relieved that she was releasing him from an unwelcome commitment. Then it occurred to her that he could even be injured or dead. Saturday began and she went for a long walk by the brook, trying to conceal her wretchedness from her family.
The week had passed without any contact from the Derwents. But if Edmond was injured or dead they would have informed me, she thought. I’m sure Mr Derwent at least is decent enough to do that.
In church on Sunday Edmond’s family made their usual appearance, shunning her except for Mr Derwent’s polite nod. Nothing untoward had happened to him, she decided; if it had it would be common knowledge by now. Her spirits lifted at this discovery: he was alive, that was all that mattered now.
* * *
The next day Amy reported for duty at the hospital, forcing herself to concentrate on making a fresh beginning. She was provided with a blue dress and a white apron and cap to wear. ‘Matron wishes to speak to you,’ she was told.
She knocked on the office door and waited outside in the corridor, which smelt of carbolic. Soon the door opened and an unsmiling, grey-haired woman in a rigidly starched cap asked her to step inside.
‘Miss Fletcher?’
‘Yes, Matron.’ She had had the impression that married women were less welcome as VADs. She had enrolled in her maiden name, meaning to delay mentioning her marriage until she was well established. Now at least she had no need to explain what had gone amiss.
‘Sit down.’ She sank onto a hard chair as Matron settled on one at the other side of a large desk, tidily piled with textbooks and paperwork, along with a newspaper.
‘Are you the Miss Fletcher who was in the papers recently, admitting to criminal damage to a cricket pavilion?’ Matron asked gravely.
Amy felt the blood drain from her face. Was she about to be dismissed from the VAD unit before she had even had the chance to begin work?
‘I’m afraid that was me,’ she said. ‘The incident took place last summer, before war broke out, and I now bitterly regret my actions.’
The woman turned a penetrating gaze on her. ‘There’s no place for disobedience in the VAD service.’
‘I understand that, Matron. I’m anxious to serve my country now and try to make amends.’
The woman consulted the newspaper. ‘You spent a week in prison?’
‘Yes, Matron, in Holloway.’
‘Hmm.’ The woman looked her up and down, apparently without finding anything out of place. ‘I suppose one could say you’ve paid your debt to society. But we need to be very careful whom we employ.’
‘I promise I’ll obey all the rules.’
‘I sincerely hope so, Miss Fletcher.’ Her expression softened a little. ‘I have a younger sister who has sympathies for the Suffrage movement… Well, I suppose we must give you a chance.’
‘Thank you very much.’
‘Make sure you do not give us any trouble. Don’t make me regret my decision, or I will have to dismiss you.’
* * *
The first week there Amy worked harder than she could ever remember. Washing floors and making beds were tedious tasks and emptying bedpans was distasteful but she dared not complain, knowing that she was already under scrutiny. Occasionally she was shown how to do a more responsible task, like taking someone’s temperature. Some patients were convalescing from war wounds, but it was not one of the main Army hospitals. She would need to complete her initial training and gain certificates in First Aid and Home Nursing before being sent to one of the major wartime hospitals.
Most evenings she reached home so tired that she did not stay up chatting to her parents. She fell asleep quickly and when she awoke it was time to get up again. There was only the dull pain of despair at losing Edmond, for it seemed increasingly likely that he had chosen to end all contact with her. Once Mother enquired if she had heard from him.
‘Not lately,’ she replied as calmly as possible.
‘People are saying there’s been hardly any mail from Flanders recently,’ Mother said.
On Friday evening she alighted wearily from the train at Larchbury station and saw Mr Derwent stepping down from a first-class carriage. For a moment they exchanged glances, then he raised his bowler hat to her. She stood on the platform, wondering if he would speak to her. He carried on towards her, looking her up and down, seeming to approve of her VAD uniform.
‘Good evening, Amy,’ he said, stooping a little to speak to her.
‘Good evening, Mr Derwent. Have you heard from Edmond lately?’ she asked him desperately.
‘Not for days, but a letter came this morning. He’s still fine, in the reserve trenches.’
‘Thank heavens – it’s nearly two weeks since I heard.’
‘Lots of families are without mail from Flanders,’ he said as they continued along the platform. ‘Did you hear about that ship that was sunk in the Channel?’
‘Yes.�
� Even in her miserable state she had been shocked at the number of casualties.
‘They say it was carrying a considerable amount of mail, especially as other transport delays had led to an accumulation at the port.’
‘Oh! So there’s a reason why I haven’t heard.’ She had to stop herself embracing him.
They reached the exit. ‘Might I offer you a lift home, Amy?’ he said unexpectedly. ‘You look tired.’ The chauffeur was waiting with the motor car.
She hesitated momentarily, then accepted. The chauffeur held the door open for her. She stepped in and settled on the comfortable leather seat as Mr Derwent sat down beside her.
‘I had to spend the day in London on business,’ he told her. ‘There’s considerable demand for timber in wartime.’ The car drove off. ‘Are you settling down to your training?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Her tasks until now had been so basic that she could not claim to have learnt much, but she supposed she was completing the work more quickly than she had at first.
He was thoughtful. ‘It was a bad business, that court case,’ he said. ‘Thank you for your letter.’
The familiar feeling of regret and shame at the interruption of her wedding resurfaced. ‘I can’t deny those foolish actions,’ she told him, almost relieved that he was prepared to discuss it with her. ‘I never dreamt it could disrupt the wedding. It’s the biggest regret of my life.’
‘It’s the general opinion that you were dealt with somewhat harshly,’ he admitted. ‘But, as you can imagine, the sudden cancellation of the wedding caused a good deal of embarrassment and scandal. My wife was extremely angry after all the time and trouble she had spent organising the banquet.’
‘I’m dreadfully sorry for spoiling it all, when you’d been so generous and she had made all the preparations.’
‘Unfortunately Beatrice was also very put out. As bridesmaid she felt particularly mortified to see you arrested.’
She expressed her regret once again. She understood that she had subjected them to a series of humiliating events.
‘You have some good friends, Amy. Did you see last week’s local paper? A Mrs Rousser or some such name wrote a letter praising you for your efforts for the Belgians.’
‘Oh – I haven’t seen it.’
They stopped outside her house.
‘It may take some time, but I’ll work on the others,’ he said. The chauffeur opened the door for her.
When she went inside there was at last a letter for her from France.
How could you write me such a foolish letter? Edmond wrote. Of course I still love you. I don’t hold it against you that the court made an example of you and sent you to jail. In time my family will accept what happened.
Trust me, we’ll be married as soon as I can get home leave. Nothing and no-one will keep us apart.
* * *
A week later she was standing outside her home, not long after returning from the hospital, when she saw Bertie walking down the road with his kitbag. She ran to embrace him, home on leave for the weekend.
‘What on earth’s going on?’ he asked, for the Derwents’ car was parked outside their house. He stared as the chauffeur and Janet the maid unloaded luggage from the vehicle.
‘It’s my clothes and other belongings I had at The Beeches,’ she said. Back in June she had taken them there ready for her wedding, and she had been wondering since how to reclaim them. She had had only a few of her older garments left at her parents’ house. It mattered less about her top clothes now she was wearing uniform most days, but she still needed her better clothes and other possessions back.
‘I spoke briefly to Mr Derwent after church on Sunday and he arranged for Janet to pack my things and bring them back.’
The front door was open as Bertie went in, and deposited his kitbag. There was the sound of an exuberant reunion with his parents. He came back to Amy just as Janet briskly unloaded the suitcase with the clothes she had packed for her honeymoon.
‘That’s all now, Madam,’ the maid told her. Her expression was sympathetic.
‘Thank you so much for returning everything,’ she said.
The car set off.
‘So, what about your wedding?’ Bertie asked when he had helped carry her belongings inside.
‘Edmond hopes to get leave in the autumn, so we can get married, by special licence if necessary.’
Bertie hugged her. ‘Give me as much notice as you can, so I can try to be here.’
* * *
There was a knock at the door one Sunday afternoon. Mother answered it and Lavinia walked in.
‘I hope you don’t mind me calling,’ she said. ‘I’m on weekend leave from the VAD and I came over on the train. Is Amy here? I’m hoping to speak to her.’ She was wearing a floral dress, rather than her uniform.
‘We could sit in the garden,’ Amy said. Her relations with her parents were almost back to normal now, but she would prefer to chat to Lavinia without them there. It was late July and the weather was warm.
‘I’ll bring you out some tea and shortbread,’ Mother said.
Lavinia followed Amy out to the garden, where deck chairs were already placed on the lawn, facing the lofty pink hollyhocks.
‘Are your family in mourning for someone?’ Lavinia asked, for both Amy and her mother were wearing dresses in a subdued shade of mauve.
‘My Uncle Harold has died,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t a great shock as he’s had poor health for years.’ Her parents had attended the funeral and said Aunt Louisa was talking of moving away from Hove, perhaps to be near an old friend in London.
Amy shifted her chair as the sun had moved round. ‘I’m in the VAD too now, have you heard?’ she told her friend. ‘I’m able to train at Wealdham now. But I’m not assigned to one of the major hospitals yet.’ They were allowing her to change dressings now, under supervision.
‘Amy, I had to see you,’ Lavinia burst out. ‘Florence told me what happened, how you were arrested for what we did last summer – and how your wedding was prevented.’ She fastened her dark eyes on Amy in a look of sincere contrition. ‘I’ve scarcely stopped thinking about it since. I blame myself for what happened. It was so brave of you not to give me away for my part in the break-in.’
‘There’s no point in both of us being punished.’ She fell silent as Mother brought out the refreshments and set them on the small garden table.
When Mother had poured the tea and returned indoors Lavinia wanted to hear all the details of her ordeal in jail. Amy told her about Polly, for up to now she had not mentioned her cellmate to anyone. Mother would have been shocked to hear an account of the woman’s life, and Florence might have been too.
‘It’s as I thought,’ Lavinia said, putting down her teacup. ‘There are poor women who lead dreadful lives as a consequence of one mistake.’
‘You can imagine how pleased I was to be released, but I can’t quite forget Polly.’ Amy passed Lavinia the shortbread and took a piece herself.
‘I can’t forgive myself for being the cause of you missing your wedding,’ Lavinia told her. ‘Who’d have thought it would come to light on that particular day?’
‘Don’t blame yourself. No-one could possibly have foreseen it.’ Amy still awoke full of regrets each morning at how her happiness had been snatched away.
‘Before the war started there was a tradition of welcoming fellow Suffragettes when they were released from jail,’ Lavinia told her. ‘They would take the woman to breakfast at the Savoy to celebrate her stand for the cause and generate publicity. I joined them one time and it was a great occasion.’
‘I believe I did hear of that once.’
‘I suppose everyone is too busy with war work to do that now.’
‘I wouldn’t have wanted it,’ Amy assured her. ‘I’ve caused so much embarrassment. The last thing I want is to draw attention to my spell in jail.’ She told her friend how hostile Edmond’s womenfolk had become.
‘They’ll forgive you soon, won�
��t they?’ Lavinia’s flowery summer hat was perched over the loops of her glossy dark hair, which hung down a little further one side than the other.
‘I hope so.’
‘Let’s hope you needn’t wait too long.’
‘Bertie may be sent abroad in a month or two. I’ll have two men to worry about then. Did you know, when he’s come home on leave recently he’s been walking out with Florence.’
‘She told me she’d been seeing him.’
‘The two of them seem well-suited.’ They had been for walks to some of local beauty spots she and Edmond had used to visit. Once when Amy was walking back from the station she had seen the couple dawdling towards her, holding hands and laughing. If their courtship continued she could not wish for a sweeter sister-in-law. All the same, Bertie seemed boyish still and she could not quite imagine him contemplating marriage.
‘Tell me about the place where you’re working now,’ she asked Lavinia presently.
Her friend had been sent to an Army hospital in London. ‘We receive wounded, sent back in ambulance trains,’ she said. ‘The work’s gruelling: you can’t allow yourself to be squeamish about what you see there.’
Amy listened, half alarmed, at her account. ‘Make sure you stay in touch,’ she urged Lavinia when they parted.
* * *
It was a day in late September when Bertie had to set off on the first stage of his journey to Flanders.
They all accompanied him to the station; Amy, her parents and Florence, wearing her best suit and dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. They stood on the sunlit platform, waiting for the first distant wisp of steam to announce the approach of the train which would take him to London. Once there, he would go on to join other soldiers in his battalion boarding the train to the Channel coast. He had spent half the morning brushing his uniform and polishing his shoes.
Until We Meet Again Page 9