by June Tate
James spoke up. ‘Now that you two have discussed my body, I think it’s time to get dressed and go and see Cleo!’
Helen grinned broadly and turning to the doctor said, ‘The only woman in the life of my patient.’
‘Now, Helen, you know that isn’t true,’ James declared, making her blush.
Doctor Coombs chuckled. ‘That’s all very well. Yes, of course you can see Cleo but I must impress upon you that you need to rest. I will call again the day after tomorrow to check up on you.’ He walked to the door. ‘Take things quietly, young James. No rushing about, I mean it!’
‘Oh good heavens, you’re as bad as the lovely sister, who rules me with a rod of iron.’
Laughing, the doctor took his leave. ‘Nice to meet you, Helen.’
Turning to James she said, ‘I’ll go and get a coat whilst you get dressed. It’s cold outside so wrap up warm.’
‘Yes, miss!’ He turned back the bedcovers. ‘Don’t take for ever, I’ve waited a long time for this moment.’
Half an hour later, wrapped up against the cold, they walked to the stables after James had called into the kitchen and begged the cook for some carrots. Helen had been pleased to see how the cook greeted him. James was obviously a favourite of hers.
As they entered the small stable block, James called out, ‘Cleo, I’m here at last. How are you, my girl?’
To Helen’s great surprise, there was a loud neighing from one of the horseboxes and the sound of movement. Over the doorway a head appeared, the nostrils of the animal snorting with pleasure.
James walked slowly up to the stall and put his sticks against the wall whilst talking softly to Cleo, stroking her nose and handing out his carrot. It was a delightful sight to behold. James buried his head in the horse’s neck, his voice choked with emotion as he spoke softly to the creature. Helen stood back, allowing him his moment alone. When he eventually looked at her, she saw the tears on his face.
She then walked over. ‘So this is Cleo. She’s quite beautiful, James.’
‘There you are, Cleo, a woman with great taste.’ He handed Helen a carrot. ‘Here give this to her.’ Seeing her nervous expression, he showed her how to hold the carrot before feeding the horse. ‘Now stroke her head, she won’t bite, I promise.’
With some trepidation Helen did so and was thrilled when the horse didn’t flinch.
‘She looks so big,’ she remarked.
‘Fifteen hands. I can’t wait to ride her again.’
‘In time, James!’ Helen said sharply. ‘Not yet.’
Ignoring her, James talked to his mount. ‘Did you hear that, Cleo? She’s jealous of you, that’s why.’ Before Helen could say anything James looked at her and said, ‘I know I have to wait. I won’t do anything stupid, I promise.’
Eventually he walked round the other stalls. Two of them housed horses that his parents rode and in the furthest box a smaller filly, the one that James intended she would ride, he told her.
‘This is Miss Millie; she’s quiet and by the time you get home for good, she will be well trained and as gentle as a lamb.’ He led Helen to a bale of hay and they sat talking.
‘I really wish you didn’t have to return to France, but let’s hope everyone will be home for good soon. I’m really going to miss you, my very dear Helen.’ He placed his arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek.
Tipping up her chin so she was looking into his eyes he said, ‘You know I want you to share my life, for us to be together.’
‘James, please. Let’s get the war over first before we make any plans for a future.’
He lifted her right hand to his lips and kissed it. ‘At least you are still wearing my ring. That’s a good sign.’
‘It’s my lucky charm,’ she laughed.
‘I was hoping it meant more than that,’ he chided softly, and she could see he was disappointed.
‘Of course it does,’ she tried to reassure him. ‘You are important to me and I care about you.’
‘About me – not for me? What is it, Helen, that makes you so reticent?’
‘Just the war, James, that’s all. You’ve seen what can happen in a second. This is not the time to plan a future, surely you can understand after all you’ve been through?’
He let out a sigh of resignation. ‘You’re right, of course, but I am impatient now I’m home.’
‘That’s my biggest concern,’ she said.
‘You are definitely not to worry, darling. Honestly, I do know how lucky I’ve been to come through all the surgery, and I do know I’ve a while to go. You think I don’t know I’m not recovered? Of course I do – I’m not an idiot!’
She had to laugh at his indignation. ‘Alright, calm down. Now, I saw a bench in the garden. It’s sheltered under a tree; let’s go and sit there for a while, get some fresh English air into our lungs.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ he said as he got to his feet with the aid of his sticks, but Helen saw him wince as he did so.
‘You alright?’ she asked.
‘Yes, you know, a few aches and pains here and there, but nothing to worry about. I do honestly know I’ve a way to go as yet.’
‘Come on, then, I’ll stop nagging.’
They sat in a sheltered spot beneath an elm tree and looked over the neat lawns and weed-free flower beds. It was quiet and peaceful, apart from the twittering of the birds.
‘You know, sitting here like this,’ said James, ‘one can hardly believe what is going on across the Channel. It’s like a bad dream. If only it were so.’
Helen took his hand in hers and squeezed it. ‘But you came through it, James. You laid your life down for your country and you came through. You earned the right to sit here.’
‘Maybe, but I know so many who didn’t, it doesn’t seem fair somehow.’
‘There’s no need for you to feel guilty that you survived. Everyone stands the same chance when they sign up. Some will die, some will live. It sounds harsh put like that but it’s the stark truth. You must celebrate your good fortune, not be ashamed of it.’
She turned his face towards hers and kissed him slowly. ‘I would have been devastated if you hadn’t made it.’
He took her into his arms and held her close. He didn’t speak and Helen understood he was fighting with his emotions and let him be. It was all part of his healing, which as a nurse, she understood so well.
In the morning after breakfast, Edward insisted driving Helen to the station to catch her train.
She’d had her breakfast with James in his bedroom so they could have those last few private moments together.
This time it was James handing out the orders.
‘Now you make sure you have enough rest, Helen. Remember, I’ve seen the hours you work, and for goodness’ sake, keep safe.’
‘Yes, sir, will do, sir!’
‘Don’t mock me, woman, I want you home in one piece. I don’t want to have had Miss Millie trained up for no good reason.’ He swung his legs out of bed, put on a dressing gown, and taking Helen by the hand, walked her over to the window. He stood her in front of him and encircled her within his arms, his lips brushing the nape of her neck.
‘There will come a day when we’ll do this in our own home.’
Helen was about to speak when he turned her round. His gaze was penetrating. ‘I know this, darling, we were meant to meet, to be together. I told you I knew it when I met you at the bar in the hotel and I bought you a drink. I thought, here is the woman I’m going to marry.’ He leant forward and kissed her slowly at first, but then with a mounting passion that couldn’t be ignored.
Helen returned his kisses with a fervour, knowing she was leaving and not knowing when she would see him again. She was suddenly so reluctant to go.
A tap on the door interrupted them. It was Edward, ready to take Helen to the station.
James walked with her to the front door, kissed her goodbye again and watched until the car was out of sight before returning to his room. He felt b
ereft.
As they drove, Edward spoke. ‘I can see that my son adores you, Helen, and I can see why. I also noticed you are wearing his signet ring on your right hand. Does that mean we may see a ring on your other hand in the future?’
Helen faltered for a moment. How was she to answer this delightful man whose love for his son was so apparent?
‘Right now, I have no idea,’ she told him. ‘As I said to James, we have to finish with this damned war first. We all hope for a future but I’ve seen it snatched away from so many in a second and so I think it’s safer to live for the moment.’
The station loomed before them and Edward parked the car, then carried Helen’s case onto the platform.
‘Thank you for taking the time from your leave to come home with James, but now, go and enjoy your own family. I just want you to know you will always be welcome in our home in whatever capacity.’ He leant forward, kissed her cheek, and with a wave walked out of the station.
What a lovely man, thought Helen. She could see where James had inherited his charm from, but now she was going home to her family and suddenly she felt tearful at the thought. It had been over a year since she’d last seen them, just before she was sent over to Belgium. It was going to be emotional, that was certain, but now she couldn’t wait to see her parents.
Chapter Eight
Edward had kindly telephoned Helen’s father to inform him of his daughter’s imminent arrival, so when the train pulled into Evesham Station, Henry Chalmers was waiting.
Helen ran into his arms and hugged him.
‘Oh, Dad, it’s so good to see you.’
‘And you, my dear,’ he said, then held her away from him. ‘Let me take a look at you.’ He studied her face and smiled. ‘Considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing, you look pretty good to me!’ Picking up her case he said, ‘I needn’t tell you how anxious your mother is to see you. She’s at home preparing our lunch.’
‘Is she well?’ asked Helen.
‘Yes, very. You know your mother, her feet never touch the ground. I’ve never met a woman with so much energy!’
As Helen walked up the path to her front door, it was flung open and a slim woman came rushing out to greet her. Clasped in a warm embrace, Helen smelt lavender, her mother’s favourite perfume, and felt her eyes filling with tears at this familiar reminder.
Margaret Chalmers was fighting with her own emotions as she held on to her daughter. So many times she’d feared for her safety and to be able to hold her close was almost too much for her. Taking a deep breath she spoke:
‘How lovely to see you, darling, come on in. We must have a sherry to celebrate.’
Helen walked into the living room, looking around, drinking in every piece of furniture, every ornament, those things that for her meant home. It seemed as if years had passed since last she’d seen them. She looked across the room at her mother.
‘I can’t tell you just how great it is to be home.’
Margaret smiled softly. ‘I know, I feel the same about seeing you standing there. Come on, let’s have a drink. I think we all need one.’
A delicious aroma was coming from the kitchen.
‘Gosh, that smells good,’ Helen remarked.
‘The butcher saved me a nice leg of lamb for the occasion,’ Margaret told her. ‘He knew it was your favourite. He said we must take care of you whilst you’re here.’
As they sat drinking the sherry, Helen told them about James, how they met and his being injured and how she’d nursed him and brought him home.
‘I was able to give his doctor all his details, which should help in his recovery.’
‘Will he recover completely?’ Henry asked.
With a shrug Helen said, ‘That remains to be seen. He was lucky to survive. Richard Carson did a magnificent job trying to repair the damage to his body. It will take time, though.’
‘How is our brilliant surgeon?’ asked Margaret.
‘Fine, but there are so many casualties coming in every day, it’s heartbreaking to see.’
‘Do you really have to go back?’ asked Margaret.
‘You know that I do, Mum. Me and those like me are needed badly until this war comes to an end. I wouldn’t feel right staying behind.’
Margaret changed the subject. ‘I thought I might have a small party and invite some of the neighbours and your friends round for a few drinks, what do you think?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t, if you don’t mind. All they’ll do is ask about the war and they really don’t want to know how bad it is and I don’t want to talk about it. I’d much rather spend my few days with you and Dad, go for walks, have a quiet time.’
Henry immediately chipped in. ‘Of course, we understand completely, don’t we, dear?’ he said pointedly, looking at his wife, daring her to argue, knowing she’d been baking in preparation for such a do.
‘Yes,’ she said hurriedly. ‘These few days are precious to you and you must do exactly as you please.’
Helen looked relieved. ‘I’d like to go shopping one day. I desperately need new underwear, and new boots as the mud can be dreadful if we have more rain, and I need another extra uniform. There’s a shop in the town that stocks them and I’ve already written to them and ordered one.’
After the meal when Margaret refused to let her help clear the dishes, Helen wandered into the back garden and sat on a bench that her father had installed and where he liked to sit in the evenings. She listened to the bird songs, remembering how few there were in a war zone. It was like being in a different world – it was a different world! The air was fresh – no smell of ether or disinfectant here. No cries of pain. No calls of ‘Nurse!’ No rattling of trolleys carting patients to and fro. No dead bodies. Here there was just … peace. The tears slowly trickled down her cheeks.
In the kitchen, Henry looked out of the window and watched his daughter as Margaret dried her hands on a tea towel.
‘There, that’s done. I’ll go into the garden and join Helen.’
He reached out to stop her. ‘No, leave her with her thoughts. She needs to be alone at this moment.’ As his wife started to argue, he looked at her. ‘Margaret, she’s crying. Leave her alone!’
Helen slowly started to sob and buried her head in her hands. All her pent-up emotions came pouring out. The war, her patients, the ones they’d been unable to save. Those who were severely injured. The shock of seeing James on the table, covered in blood – and Richard, masked, working, fighting to save him.
Her parents watched. Her mother was distraught to see Helen so distressed.
‘Margaret, she needs to get whatever is on her mind out of her system,’ said Henry. ‘Trust me, she’ll feel better afterwards.’
It was painful to watch, but in time Helen stopped crying. They watched her take a deep breath, wipe her eyes, blow her nose and relax against the bench.
‘There,’ her father said, ‘now she’ll feel better. Tears are a great safety valve. It’s always so much better to let go than try to keep everything buried inside. She’ll be fine. She’ll come inside when she’s ready. Come and sit by the fire, she mustn’t know we’ve been watching.’
Half an hour later, Helen came back through the kitchen and into the living room.
‘The garden’s looking lovely,’ she said. ‘I’ve been sitting on your bench, Dad. I’m so pleased it’s still there.’
Henry cast a quick glance at his wife and smiled before answering:
‘Yes, well you know it’s my favourite spot after a busy day at the bank. I sit and forget all the awkward customers I’ve had that day.’
Helen laughed. Her father was the manager of one of the local banks and was well liked. ‘You don’t have any, Dad. Everyone admires you.’
‘Rubbish! Would you like a coffee and a brandy? It’s getting cooler now the sun’s gone in.’
‘That’d be lovely,’ she said and sat beside her mother on the settee. ‘It’s so good to be home,’ she said giving Marga
ret a hug.
The remaining days of Helen’s leave seemed to fly by and once again she was standing on a station platform waiting to travel, her parents there to see her on her way.
As the train drew in spilling out its steam, Margaret hugged her.
‘Take care, now. The war can’t go on for ever, and before you know it, you’ll be home for good.’
Henry kissed her goodbye and helped her on board with her luggage.
‘You are doing a wonderful job, Helen, and I’m immensely proud of you.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Take care.’
Helen leant out of the carriage window and waved to her parents as the train left the station, then she sat down. She’d have to change trains once to get to Southampton where she had an overnight passage on a hospital ship returning to France.
Although being at home was wonderful and therapeutic, she was now feeling rested and restless to return to work, knowing just how much she’d be needed. Medicine was her life, and without it for too long, she felt lost. She had spoken to James on the telephone and he assured her he was doing fine, being a model patient, and that he’d be writing, urging her to write back to him, or his sanity would be impaired if he didn’t hear. He made her laugh as usual.
‘Cleo sends her love and Miss Millie too. I’m allowed to visit them once a day for a chat,’ he told her, ‘and we miss you already.’
She chuckled to herself as she remembered their conversation. How long before she saw him again, she wondered, but at least he was safe and out of the war. That was a great comfort.
Chapter Nine
When eventually Helen arrived back in Rouen, she was exhausted and went straight to her room, unpacked, and had a quick bath. She would be on duty early the next morning and needed to be ready, mentally and physically.
The next morning, she woke to the sound of the bell, got dressed and hurried to the mess to have breakfast, knowing she needed that fuel to sustain her during the following hours in the operating theatre. She’d only just sat down with her tray of food when Richard entered. Seeing her, he collected his meal and walked over to the table and sat down.