When the Dawn Breaks

by Emma Fraser

  Isabel smiled tightly. ‘Yes, it is. Do you think badly of me?’

  Jessie almost smiled. Compared to killing a man, a child out of wedlock was a relatively small sin. Warmth flooded through her: Archie would live on in his child.

  ‘I’ll lose everything,’ Isabel whispered, ‘my reputation, my career, but I can’t bring myself to care. I have his child growing inside me and I cannot regret it.’

  If ever Jessie had wondered if she would confront Isabel with the truth about Charles Maxwell, she knew now she never could. If the truth came out Isabel, the mother of her brother’s child, might hang. She owed it to Archie to see that that never happened.

  ‘You must sleep. And you must take more of the rations. I’ll tell the others and they’ll be glad to give up their share.’

  ‘No,’ Isabel said, her voice ringing out in the cold night air. ‘You must say nothing. There is a chance I’ll lose this child and, if I do, my reputation will have been ruined for nothing.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I don’t know if a child can survive what we’re going through, Jessie. I’m so weak, so tired, that sometimes I wonder if I can go on.’

  ‘You must! If not for your sake, for that of the child you’re carrying. For Archie’s sake. Besides, I’ve nursed women who’ve had less nourishment and they’ve still managed to bring healthy babies into the world. One thing I do know about babies is that they’re greedy devils. They take all they need from the mother, even if it saps her dry. I won’t tell the others, if you promise you’ll take food when you can. I’m stronger than you – no…’ She held up her hand as Isabel made to protest, ‘…you know it’s true. I’m used to having less food than I need and to being out of doors. Although,’ she grimaced, ‘I’m not used to this. No one could be used to this. You must take half of my rations. I’ll manage.’

  Isabel returned her smile. ‘Did I ever tell you how much I admire you, Jessie? You’re the woman most of us want to be, but can’t.’

  Jessie was moved. Isabel’s words meant a great deal. ‘Poppycock,’ she replied, using one of Lady Dorothea’s favourite words, ‘but thank you. I’ll respect your wishes and not tell the others. However,’ she held up an admonishing finger, ‘if you don’t eat properly, I’ll be forced to tell them. Are we in agreement?’

  Isabel raised an eyebrow. ‘It seems I have no choice. Now, let’s get some rest. We are going to need all our strength if we’re to make it.’

  Chapter 50

  The first inkling Jessie had of the disaster was when Isabel screamed.

  ‘Jump, Evans! Oh, God, jump!’

  Jessie’s head snapped up and she watched in horror as the wagon Evans had been steering slid backwards, its wheels slipping over the edge of the narrow track. The horse reared, its shrill, panicked cry rending the air as it fought against the weight pulling it downwards.

  Evans made no effort to jump free. Instead she, the wagon and the horse disappeared from sight. Isabel looked at Jessie in horror. They rushed as quickly as the slippery snow and boulders would allow and looked over the edge.

  Halfway down the mountain, the horse was kicking feebly in its death throes. Their belongings were scattered everywhere, some still rolling down towards the river. Worst of all, Evans lay motionless in the snow, her cloak spread around her like a grey tablecloth.

  Jessie lifted her skirts. Beside her Isabel was doing the same.

  ‘I’ll go to her,’ Jessie said. ‘You can’t take the risk.’

  Isabel brushed her arm away. ‘If she’s alive she’ll need my help.’

  Jessie didn’t say anything. Supposing Evans had survived the fall it would be an almost impossible task, even with the soldiers’ help, to get her back up the mountain. But they couldn’t just leave her. And she could see from the set of Isabel’s lips she had made up her mind.

  Carefully the two women slid down the slope, the snow seeping into their coats. It seemed to take for ever to get to Evans, but it couldn’t have been much more than ten minutes when they finally scrambled to a stop beside their friend.

  She was badly injured – Jessie saw that at once. Her leg was twisted at an unnatural angle and her head was bleeding profusely. Quickly Isabel examined her as the ghastly cries of the dying horse rang in their ears. Unable to bear its suffering any longer, Jessie took out the gun Archie had given her, slipped out of her coat, folded it several times and placed it on the horse’s head. Eyes tightly shut, she pulled the trigger. There was a soft thud and the horse jerked, then lay still.

  She glanced back to where Isabel was bending over Evans. Isabel shook her head slightly. Jessie stumbled towards them, sinking up to her knees in the snow with every step she took.

  Evans was barely conscious. ‘That’s torn it,’ she whispered.

  Isabel lifted her dress and, using her teeth, tore off a piece of petticoat to wrap around Evans’s head.

  ‘We’re going to get you out of here,’ Jessie told her firmly.

  Evans reached out and grasped her wrist. The fall had ripped the gloves from her hands and her fingers were icicles on Jessie’s skin.

  ‘Don’t pretend,’ Evans said.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Jessie replied, although her throat was aching so badly with the need to cry that she could hardly speak. ‘I’ll get some of the soldiers to help us. We’ll have you up in a jiffy.’

  ‘Then what?’ Evans murmured. ‘I’m going to die so I might as well die here. But stay and pray with me.’ She coughed, her eyes tight with pain.

  Jessie felt for a pulse. It was fast and weak. Evans was slipping away. She looked at Isabel, who shook her head again and, out of sight of their injured friend, pointed to the broken leg. Jessie knew what she was saying. Supposing they could get her back up the slope, the pain would be excruciating. They had no morphine, nothing to ease her agony. She was going to die, they both knew that. What was the point in her last moments being filled with pain?

  ‘I’m not frightened,’ Evans said. ‘I’m going to meet my Maker.’

  Jessie laid her coat over Evans. No, not Evans. Elizabeth.

  Isabel removed her gloves and pulled them over Elizabeth’s frozen hands.

  ‘My Bible. It’s in my pocket. Put it in my hands,’ Elizabeth said. Every word was clearly an effort.

  Jessie found it and opened it at Psalm Twenty-three. Although she knew the words by heart, she bent her head over the book and began to read. As she did so, Elizabeth closed her eyes.

  ‘Is she?’ Jessie asked Isabel, when she’d finished.

  Isabel placed her fingers on Elizabeth’s carotid pulse. ‘Not yet.’

  Together they sat beside their friend until finally her breathing stopped. They looked at one another in despair. How many more, Lord? Jessie cried inside. How many more do you need before you’re satisfied?

  Slowly Isabel picked up Jessie’s coat and placed it around her shoulders. Then she removed her gloves from Elizabeth’s hands and slipped them back on. ‘We can’t leave her here,’ she said. ‘Maybe the soldiers will help us carry her body back up so that we can bury her.’

  ‘Once they’ve finished stripping the horse of its meat, you mean,’ Jessie replied, jerking her thumb behind her.

  Isabel sighed. ‘We’ve all become less human in this war, Jessie.’

  ‘At least we can gather what remains of the cart to make a stretcher for her.’ Carefully, as if Elizabeth could still feel pain, they lifted her body onto the planks tied together with their scarves. The refugees fell upon the rest of the cart and started scrambling up the slope with the precious wood tucked under their arms.

  Without being asked, several soldiers trudged through the snow towards them. Wordlessly, they began to haul Elizabeth on her makeshift stretcher up the hill, leaving the two women to clamber after them. For a time, Jessie wondered if they would make it. Her feet were so cold she could no longer feel them. Perhaps it was easier to give in. She almost fell, but Isabel grasped her hand and pulled her on. Then Isabel stumbled and it was Jessie’s turn to help her a
nd so it went on, each of them falling only to be lifted by the hands of the other.

  Finally, they were at the top. The path was still clogged with refugees and retreating soldiers. Someone had removed Elizabeth’s boots and her bare feet were almost the final straw for Jessie. But those boots might mean the difference between life and death for a child and Elizabeth would have been the first to give them away.

  With the help of the soldiers, they buried her in a makeshift shallow grave at the side of the road and said another prayer. Realising there was nothing they could do, the rest of their convoy had gone before them.

  Now they were without horse, tents and even dry socks. They had a little food in the knapsack Jessie carried on her back, but that was all. If their journey had appeared doomed before, it would take a miracle to get them to Scutari alive now. And God, Jessie thought bitterly, didn’t seem to be handing out miracles.

  ‘We need to go on,’ Isabel said finally. ‘The longer we wait, the greater the chance that the Germans will be upon us. We have to make the most of the daylight.’

  They turned away from Elizabeth’s grave, and as the snow started to fall thickly, they huddled into their coats and started to walk.

  For seven more days they continued their route, along narrow valleys that ran between steep mountains of grey rock and jagged peaks, through thunder, lightning and hail. In one place they had to tramp over the bodies of three horses, one not quite dead. Although they were soaked to the skin and couldn’t light fires in the rain, and Jessie worried about Isabel. They camped every night in the open and rose to find each morning identical. They spoke sometimes, not about their lives before the war, or the people they had lost, but about their time with the Scottish Women’s Hospitals, reminding each other of the good times they’d had. If one stumbled, the other would slip her arm through her elbow until she, too, stumbled. What little food they had they shared. Jessie hardly felt hungry now.

  Just when she wondered if they could survive more than another night or two, the path veered sharply to the left and all at once a brilliantly green stream stretched before them. ‘We must be close to Lake Scutari,’ she said. Her lips were cracked and sore, as were Isabel’s.

  Isabel attempted a smile. ‘Thank God.’

  They hobbled on for the rest of the day. The sleet had turned to rain and even that was easing when suddenly the mountains fell away. Open country stretched before them and below, at the bottom of the decline, glinting in the sunshine was the lake. After almost six weeks of more pain, hunger and heartache than Jessie had thought it possible to endure, they were safe.

  At the bottom they found a boat to take them across Lake Scutari to the military headquarters and the port.

  When they saw the lights of the town they were too exhausted to do more than raise a feeble cheer. They had survived the journey, but at what cost? Jessie would never be able to get the terrible images of the dead bodies out of her head, especially those of the children. And Archie, was he alive? Or was he dead and buried too?

  As for Isabel, she had lost more weight. Instead of the bloom of pregnancy she was gaunt and paler than a Christmas rose. What would happen to her when she returned to Scotland, as she must? Would her family disown her or would they open their arms to her, simply glad that she had returned to them? Certainly she’d be struck off the medical register. Of that there was little doubt. But whatever happened with her family, Jessie would never abandon her. Isabel was carrying Archie’s baby and she would do everything in her gift to care for them both.

  When they arrived at the hotel, they were delighted to be greeted by a number of their unit who had made it before them. Old friends and companions fell upon them with cries of disbelief and joy. The hotel, although busy, found rooms for them, and that night would be the first in four months that Jessie and Isabel would be able to bathe. Although they had often discussed food on the long journey, they had talked more of how they were looking forward to a bath and clean clothes.

  ‘Shall we meet for dinner?’ Jessie asked Isabel, when they were alone again.

  Isabel smiled faintly. ‘I’m going to have a bath and then I’m going to sleep. Don’t be surprised if you don’t see me for a couple of days.’

  ‘You need to eat,’ Jessie said firmly, ‘and I intend to see that you do.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper, lest she was overheard by anyone in the crowded lobby. Isabel’s pregnancy couldn’t be concealed for ever but there was no need for anyone to find out now. ‘That baby is going to be born healthy if it kills me.’

  ‘I have no doubt that it will be.’ Isabel dropped her hand to her still flat stomach. ‘Poor little thing. It hasn’t had the best start.’

  ‘As soon as I’ve cleaned myself up,’ Jessie said, ‘I’m going to see if I can find you a passage home. It might have to be on one of the hospital ships, but the sooner we get you there the better.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ll come with you, and as soon as I’ve seen you back safely, I’ll return to wherever I’m needed.’

  Isabel looked as if she were about to protest, but instead she touched Jessie’s shoulder. ‘I’ll miss you.’

  ‘And I you.’

  Chapter 51

  The next morning, clean, fed and rested, Jessie and Isabel walked down to the harbour.

  ‘Another week at the most and we’ll be home,’ Jessie said.

  ‘Can you bear to come back here?’

  Even after everything, Jessie had no doubt that that was what she had to do. ‘There’s still nothing in Edinburgh for me until the war’s over and Tommy’s released. Besides, they’re going to need experienced nurses more than ever.’

  ‘I envy you,’ Isabel said. A shadow crossed her face. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t practise medicine again.’

  It was on the tip of Jessie’s tongue to tell Isabel that that was the least of her worries, but she bit back the words. If Archie was dead, and she feared he was, she was glad that he had known some happiness with the woman he loved. At least with the baby a part of him would live on.

  ‘When the war is over, I’ll come and help you with the wee one. And every leave I get I’ll come and see you both.’

  ‘I don’t even know where I’ll be living. Mama is unlikely to wish me to stay with her. Not when I’m expecting and unmarried.’

  ‘Your mam will never put you out of the house,’ Jessie said, shocked. ‘No mother would do that to her daughter. Especially when she’s carrying a child.’

  ‘I don’t suppose she will, although I can’t see my brother George having anything to do with me.’ Isabel smiled weakly. ‘I have to admit, though, that that doesn’t seem much of a loss.’

  ‘You could always tell them that you married and he died. I’m certain you won’t be the first to use that story.’

  ‘No.’ Isabel shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t be long before someone found out the truth. The women we travelled with know I’m not married.’

  ‘You could say you married Archie secretly. People might believe that.’

  ‘No, Jessie. I must simply face whatever I have to.’ Her stoicism faltered. ‘If only I could carry on working as a doctor, I’d have something. But don’t worry about me. I’ve brought enough trouble into your life. I’ll think of something.’

  ‘You have the baby,’ Jessie said. ‘You’ll see. It’ll make up for a lot.’ She reached across and pressed Isabel’s cold hand. ‘Archie’s child. We’re bound together now. Your troubles will always be mine.’

  ‘You’re a good woman, Jessie. You know that, don’t you?’

  Aye, well, perhaps she wasn’t and perhaps she was. ‘Family stick together and you’re family now, so don’t go all soft on me.’

  The hospital ship was packed to the rafters with the injured and with soldiers returning home on leave. Jessie hadn’t been able to secure them berths so they would have to manage as best they could on deck, but when some British officers realised that the two women were without a cabin,
they offered their first-class one. A young captain took the lead. ‘You ladies have done a wonderful job taking care of us, eh? My sister’s a nurse and she’d never forgive me or Williams here if we let you sleep on deck.’

  Jessie took up the offer without having to think twice. After what they’d been through, a deckchair would have seemed the height of luxury but Isabel needed a proper bed.

  Their borrowed cabin was cramped but comfortable. They laid out their few possessions, then decided to go on deck for some air.

  On the dock, the ambulance trains were still unloading patients. Nurses, veils blowing in the wind, attended to them with quiet efficiency.

  Suddenly Jessie heard Isabel gasp. ‘Down there, do you see? The man sitting against the wall – the one with red hair?’

  Jessie followed Isabel’s pointing finger. It was easy to see whom she was talking about: only one man had red hair. Isabel whirled around and ran towards the gangway.

  ‘Wait!’ Jessie called. Either Isabel didn’t hear or she was too intent on getting to the wounded soldier, but she didn’t even turn.

  By the time Jessie had pushed her way through the crowds, Isabel was kneeling by the man. He was wearing the uniform of the Royal Flying Corps.

  ‘Simon, my God! Simon – don’t you know me? It’s Isabel – Andrew’s sister.’

  So this was Simon, Lady Dorothea’s other brother. He didn’t look well. His left arm had been amputated at the elbow and was heavily bandaged. When he saw Isabel, his face lit up. Then an expression of such grief crossed it that Jessie shivered.

  Isabel must have seen it too. If possible, she paled even further. ‘No, Simon. Please no! Not Andrew too!’

  From the expression on Simon’s face, it was clear that Isabel had guessed right.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Isabel. Didn’t you know? It happened two weeks ago. I wrote to your mama.’

  But Isabel wasn’t listening. Her arms were wrapped around her body and she was rocking back and forth. Jessie stepped forward and held her. ‘Come, Isabel. Come with me. Hush now. It will be all right. Hush now.’