by Carol Rivers
Hilda cast her gaze to Lady Bertha. She was still a striking figure with her black hair drawn severely back from her face, wearing a military-style dark-grey tunic top and serge skirt. She was talking to a tall officer, waving her arms about as if to direct the men. Hilda had overheard a conversation between Mrs Burns and Mrs Harris about the wounded soldiers coming to the hall.
‘Well, her ladyship couldn’t stop ’em from coming,’ Mrs Harris had argued, ‘so she joined ’em instead. Whoever would have guessed she’d let the army have her precious dining room. Mr Leighton nearly quit his job when she instructed him to put beds in there. But in the end he had to do as she wanted.’
‘The circumstances are unique,’ Mrs Burns had replied haughtily. ‘We must all do our bit. And her ladyship is doing hers.’
Hilda remembered the conversation vividly. Just after that she had been detailed by Mrs Burns to help Peter the gardener and the young boys from the village. ‘There are many mouths to feed now,’ Mrs Burns had barked at her. ‘And it’s about time you started to earn your keep again.’
Hilda had wanted to wipe the smile off the housekeeper’s face. Nothing could have given Mrs Burns more pleasure than to see Hilda digging in the allotments, her nails always black with filthy earth and her face blotchy and red from outdoor duties. But Hilda had been forced to accept her fate. She clung to the hope that one day Lord Guy would rescue her.
Hilda listened carefully as she hid behind the yew hedge. At least she was free to roam the gardens now. She wasn’t imprisoned in the house. How Gracie could put up with making all those wounded men’s beds, full of lumpy mattresses and soiled sheets. Hilda felt sick at the thought. Trolleys and water jugs filled every hallway. The smell of sickness and disinfectant was everywhere.
‘Hey, you!’
Hilda wheeled round. She lost her balance and fell against the hedge.
A firm hand caught her wrist. ‘Who are you spying on, boy?’
Her heart pumped frantically as she found herself in the presence of Lord Guy. She couldn’t believe it was him. Was she dreaming?
‘N . . . no one, my lord,’ she mumbled. ‘I j . . . just heard voices.’ She could hardly speak for the excitement and fear trapped in her chest.
‘Hilda, is that you?’
‘Y . . . yes, my lord.’
‘What the devil are you dressed up like that for?’ He released her wrist and stood back to cast his eyes over her. Hilda trembled. Here he was, the man of her dreams. Looking at her with those hooded black eyes, their expression causing a thrust of desire inside her that had her gawping at him wordlessly.
‘I . . . I’m helping the gardener, my lord.’
‘Mrs Burns has no use for you in the kitchen?’
Hilda blushed fiercely and bowed her head. She wanted to tell him how badly she had been treated since the accident. How Mrs Burns had more or less held her captive, away from the other staff. How she’d been made to work alone, or with Gracie, a lowly scullery maid, who had nearly driven her mad, telling her what to do and how to do it. And how her heart had nearly broken in two as she had watched him escort Lady Gabriella last year. Driving out in the carriage or in the big new motor car, or riding together across the fields.
‘Well, in an odd way, the boy’s garb is quite appealing,’ he drawled, appraising her again.
Hilda looked up, her eyes suddenly bright. ‘Thank you.’
‘But too cumbersome for a warm day like this.’ He stood, hands on hips, his hair shorter than when she had last seen it at Christmas, on the day of the last family dinner in the dining room. She had not been asked to serve the twelve-course meal with the other staff. Mrs Burns still kept her in check, in the kitchen or scullery. But she had caught sight of the family as she stoked the fire, before being shouted at by Mr Leighton and made to run full pelt back to the kitchen. Now she could only stare at her one true love. He was so unbearably handsome in his casual dark trousers and jacket, with a blue silk cravat at his neck. His rakish black hair shone, and his inky eyes stared at her with almost an open invitation.
Hilda drew in her breath. It had been so long since he’d touched her. Over a year since they had played that fateful game of chase. If only she had not hurt herself! If only she had played their game as he had told her to, and run faster, longer . . .
‘I see that you are now fully recovered.’ His eyes lowered to her arm, then her full breasts that were hidden under the coarse grey blouse, and down to her legs encased in rough trousers and working boots. Hilda felt elated. He had been thinking of her, there was no doubt of that!
‘Yes, my lord.’ A shiver of delight went through her. He was here at last to rescue her. It had taken over twelve months for him to return to her. And now he had found her. But, oh, why was she dressed in such an ugly fashion? Humiliation filled her cheeks, making them rosy. Her full lips trembled as he came closer.
‘So my little kitten has become a fully grown cat. A tiger perhaps, a lioness?’
Hilda nearly died on the spot as he removed her cloth cap and her hair tumbled down to her shoulders. Her legs wanted to give way with sheer delight. He always used to call her his little kitten. He remembered! Oh, he remembered!
‘Such beautiful hair,’ he muttered, pushing his fingers into it. Suddenly, his hands were on her shirt. His fingers moved carefully over the cloth and loosened its buttons. Then they entered the gap that remained and slid slowly over her breasts. Dipping past her underwear they stroked her bare nipple. It immediately peaked, yearning to be touched.
Hilda closed her eyes. She didn’t know how she found the strength to stand up. Her legs felt full of air. She could barely swallow. His touch sent her to paradise. She had almost given up that he would come to her again. Almost . . .
‘You are beautiful. Ripe and ready to be played with.’ His breath was on her face. It smelled of pleasure, of lust, of desire.
She opened her eyes, catching her breath noisily. ‘Oh, my lord . . .’
‘Still as accommodating, still as playful, still wanting?’
All she could do was nod. He could do whatever he wanted with her. She wouldn’t complain. Not ever. She would run across the fields until she was dying of exhaustion. She would go wherever he told her. She would never again act the silly, naïve . . .
‘Now, we shall see if this is genuine,’ he muttered, squeezing her nipple until it hurt and she cried out. ‘Ah, it seems you really are ready.’
His fingers tugged impatiently at the belt at her waist. His strength and power overwhelmed her. In just a few seconds his hand was pressing down, inside her underwear and playing over her stomach until they stopped above her most sensitive part.
Hilda gasped and sobbed all in one breath.
A smile formed on his lips. Those lips she loved so much, missed so much. They were close, oh, so close.
‘You don’t disappoint, Hilda. Take down your trousers.’
Hilda was terrified. There were people beyond the hedge. Both patients and staff. What if Mrs Burns or Mr Leighton was to see her! ‘Oh, my lord, not here, please!’ she begged.
His smile fell away. ‘Do you dare disobey me?’
‘Oh, no, no, my lord. But—’
‘Then do as I say.’
Hilda looked around. She could hear movement and voices, but she couldn’t see anyone. With luck, Peter would be in the greenhouse with the boys. As for the kitchen staff . . .
Her fingers were trembling so violently that the rough material of her trousers caught at her hips. Her boots were laced and the ends of her trousers pleated into her socks. He laughed at her embarrassment and slid his hand into her open fly.
Hilda almost swooned. She could see herself standing there, her trousers at half mast around her knees. She didn’t care. Exquisite pleasure drove through her as his fingers entered her. Her body was throbbing and her breath on fire. She cried aloud, only just remembering to stop herself, as she gulped for air.
‘Cry, my little cat. Cry loudly. We could be
caught. Just think of it! We are on the very point of discovery.’
Hilda was lost in the turmoil of her body: her delight, her fear, her sensual pleasure. Within seconds he too had opened his fly and was inside her. Groaning and muttering, he took her roughly.
Hilda had by now forgotten who she was or where she was. She only knew that she had never experienced feelings like these before. Her body was a stranger to her. Her need for him was not ordinary. She had risked discovery. And she hadn’t cared.
When he had finished, he stepped back. Casually, he thrust a hand through his hair.
Hilda quickly pulled up her trousers. She looked around. It seemed that no one had observed them.
Lord Guy took hold of her chin. ‘You still want to play, little cat?’
Hilda was shaking too much to think of an answer. She wanted him to tell her he loved her. That after all this time, he had returned to her. That for all the months she had been in exile, her trust in him was to be rewarded.
But he only laughed. It was a sound that both terrified and excited her. And in just a few strides he had vanished.
Gone, as though he had never been there.
Flora glanced at the men who lay on beds or sat in chairs, many swathed in bandages. The more mobile used crutches to make their way over the bare boards. A handful of men wore slippers and sleeveless hospital gowns. Many had limbs missing and some even two.
‘Will is here by the windows. He likes to see out to the lawns.’
Flora saw a slight figure sitting in a Bath chair. The man had very short fair hair with one side shaved, revealing an ugly lump. The loose sleeve of his jacket was pinned up to the shoulder. Flora’s heart raced as he turned slowly towards them.
It was Will. But a different Will altogether to the one she had last seen that day in Hyde Park, in the summer of 1914. His thick blond curls had vanished and his blue eyes were hidden by swollen pouches of skin.
‘Will!’ Flora hurried past Nurse Parkin.
‘Flora?’ It was Will’s voice, but a very different rasp to the youthful sound she remembered.
‘Oh, Will, it’s been so long.’ She stepped forward. ‘Can I hold you?’
‘Yes, but be careful.’
She put her arms around him slowly. He felt as thin as a child.
‘Hello, Will,’ Doctor Tapper said quietly. ‘It’s been some time since we last met.’
Will smiled weakly. ‘Yes, before I joined up.’
Flora knew this was a very changed Will to the one she remembered.
‘Will’s injuries are still extremely sensitive,’ Nurse Parkin warned them. ‘Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Are you staying overnight at the hospital?’
‘If there is accommodation,’ Dr Tapper said as he sat on a wooden chair beside Will’s bed.
‘There is a shelter to the north of the hospital. Very basic, I’m afraid, set up by volunteers. But it’s somewhere to spend the night. Now I must leave you with Will.’
‘How are you faring?’ the doctor asked when Nurse Parkin had gone.
‘I’m alive,’ Will replied gruffly. ‘As you can see, I shall never be able to work as a baker. Or do things that normal people do.’
Flora stretched out her hand and took his fingers. ‘You’ve been so brave.’
‘I don’t know about that.’
‘Why didn’t you write to me?’
‘Can’t you see?’ He looked at his loose sleeve.
‘I meant before that happened.’ She felt embarrassed at her clumsy question.
‘There was nothing I could write about except death and the dying.’ He spoke in sharp, bitter bursts, trying to get his breath.
‘I wouldn’t have minded what you said.’
‘You don’t understand what life was like in the trenches.’
‘No, that’s true, we don’t.’ She squeezed his fingers and smiled as he returned the pressure. ‘Oh, Will, I can’t believe you’re back. One day you’ll be well again.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said quietly. ‘No one will want a cripple. Where shall I work? What will I do? I’ll become a beggar in the streets.’
‘You mustn’t say that. And anyway, I wouldn’t let you.’
‘Although it seems unlikely now,’ the doctor added firmly, ‘you will start to make a new life.’
‘I doubt that.’
Flora swallowed her tears. ‘Keep strong, Will.’
‘Hold me again, won’t you?’
She put her arms around him as he wept on her shoulder.
It was some time before they broke apart. ‘Dry your eyes now.’ She gave him her hanky.
‘You used to tell me that in the orphanage.’
‘And it worked. You soon pulled your socks up. Sometimes you could be very lazy.’ Flora was trying to say things that sounded normal.
Will smiled. ‘Nurse Parkin is trying to teach me to write with my left hand.’
‘She is very nice.’
‘Yes, but bossy.’
Dr Tapper laughed and glanced at Flora. ‘All nurses are bossy, Will.’
Flora blushed. The time went by quickly as Will told them about his life at the Front. He had been living in a rat-infested swamp and had contracted dysentery. ‘And now I can’t even go to the toilet by myself. It’s humiliating.’
‘But it will get better,’ Flora promised him.
Will began to look very tired. His head drooped to one side.
‘We must go,’ Flora said, leaning forward.
‘I am rather tired. Will you come tomorrow?’
‘Yes. In the morning before we leave.’
She embraced him tenderly. The stub of his arm jerked inside the loose sleeve.
‘Good night, sleep well, Will,’ the doctor said.
Flora kissed his cheek. ‘Good night and God bless, my dear friend. Please remember you will always have me and Hilda. You’ll never have to go back to the Front. And in a short while, life will be worth living again.’
Flora hid the catch in her voice. She tried to smile, but as Dr Tapper led her away, she knew she would give way to tears later.
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘There are two more passengers travelling back with us today,’ Sally told them early the next morning outside the hospital. ‘We leave at eleven on the dot.’
‘Thank you.’ Flora was eager to see Will, but Sally took her arm.
‘Did you sleep well?’
Flora nodded although the truth was that she had spent a restless night thinking of Will. Trying to sleep on the makeshift bed provided by the hospital’s charity workers had been impossible. One hut had housed men and the other women and children. All night there had been loud snores and children crying. But it was Will who had occupied her thoughts, and what was to become of him.
‘It was adequate,’ the doctor answered Sally’s enquiry, gruffly.
‘Did you ask about Will and Adelphi Hall?’ Sally looked expectantly at Flora.
‘Yes, but I was told that matron deals with all that.’
‘Don’t let them put you off,’ insisted Sally as she slid on her driver’s cap. ‘Make a nuisance of yourself, if you have to. It’s the only way.’
Flora knew that causing trouble would be the Suffragettes’ way. But it wasn’t in Flora’s nature to create a disturbance. However, that might change if she couldn’t get what she wanted for Will.
‘Will is looking forward to seeing you this morning,’ Nurse Parkin said as she greeted them at the unit. ‘Your presence yesterday really lifted his mood.’
‘Did you speak to the matron?’ Flora asked at once.
‘Yes, yes,’ Nurse Parkin said hesitantly. ‘And normally, our patients are discharged with family in mind. But in Will’s case—’
‘Nurse Parkin, me and Hilda are Will’s family,’ Flora insisted.
The young woman nodded. ‘I’ll ask if she will speak to you.’
‘Oh, Will, you look better this morning,’ Flora said when they arrived at the beds
ide. He was sitting on an ordinary chair and dressed in a white open-necked shirt and trousers. ‘Look, your hair is beginning to grow.’
‘Nurse Parkin combed it over my lump.’
‘You look more like your old self,’ the doctor agreed as they sat down.
‘I don’t feel myself. Not at all.’
‘Many young men have similar wounds,’ the doctor replied. ‘When you are completely healed, you can be fitted with a false arm. Great headway has been made with recent discoveries for the war-wounded.’
‘Yes, but that costs money. And I haven’t a penny to my name.’
‘We’ll worry about that when the time comes,’ Flora broke in. ‘For now, we just want to see you improve. And the next time we visit, I hope to see you walking.’
There were tears in his blue eyes. ‘Are you leaving?’
‘We must, I’m afraid. The ambulance is waiting.’
‘Now I’ll be alone again.’
‘I’ll see you soon, I promise.’ She reached out for his hand. ‘I’ve asked to speak to the matron. I want you to be sent to Adelphi Hall where Hilda in service. It’s been turned into a hospital for the war-wounded.’
‘But will they listen to you? Some men are sent far away.’
‘I won’t allow that to happen to you.’
Will managed a tired smiled. ‘Your old bossy self is coming out.’
Flora smiled. She knew they were both remembering the times in their childhood at the orphanage. She had always protected Will. Hilda had never needed protection.
Suddenly, a figure stopped at the bedside. The matron wore a wide white cap of starched linen and a dark-blue uniform, with sensible lace-up shoes. She looked stern, with her hair hidden away and her hands folded together in front of her. ‘I should like to speak to you, Miss Shine, before you leave. I’ll meet you outside.’
Flora hugged Will gently. He clung to her with his good arm, like a child. All the times they had shared together, both good and bad, swirled in Flora’s mind. ‘Have courage, my dear Will. And I promise to do all I can to have you close.’