by Edwards, Eve
There was every need. His pride and self-respect demanded it of him. He stood, ignoring the fact that his leg was shaking like a jelly under him. He shifted his weight on to his good side. ‘Jilly, how are you?’ He looked down at her feet, not wanting to reveal his scarred face to her. Come on, Sebastian, you can’t avoid her forever. Her black shoes had a shine his captain would commend.
‘I am well, thank you. But how are you? You’re looking much better than I expected.’
He managed a gruff laugh. ‘Am I? What were you expecting then?’ He raised his face to meet her gaze, challenging her to take in his ruined face.
‘Oh, your poor eye!’ Without thinking, she reached towards him. He got out of range by sitting down.
‘Forgive me. I tire if I stand for a long time.’ He had been right: his scar was worse to those who hadn’t seen many battlefield injuries, more disfiguring than his parents and Steven had admitted. ‘Please, do sit down.’
‘Yes, of course. We must keep you off your feet.’ Jilly looked around for a seat, settling finally on the wall where Theo was now perched, having given his own chair to his wife. She was flustered by her own reaction. She knew she had failed a test by not brushing off the injury.
Funny, it was the least of what had happened to Sebastian, but because it had marred the face that he had to use to present himself to the world, it had come to matter more than the other wounds.
‘You haven’t changed,’ Sebastian said, not sure that he meant it as a compliment. Jilly had kept the air of youthful elegance that had marked her out among their set, neat clothes tailored from light-coloured fabrics, a dainty necklace of pearls, honey-blonde hair swept back in a chignon under a little blue hat that matched her coat and gloves. Neil had been drawn to her as she was the antithesis of his own slapdash ways; he had told Sebastian he had looked forward to corrupting her to mischief after marriage. She had probably harboured the opposite ambition, but all that was nothing now.
‘Do stay for some tea.’ His mother rang the bell on the table. ‘Cook has made a cake. I smelt it as I came in from walking Sebastian’s lazy specimen of a dog.’
‘Oh, your Labrador! I’m always happy to walk him for you if it’s too much,’ Jilly offered, rushing to help as ever. Ask for a volunteer and her hand was always the first to go up.
Sebastian would have much preferred to walk his own dog, thank you.
His mother shook her head. ‘That’s kind of you, but I quite enjoy my rambles with Charlie. He’s the best type of male company, quiet and usually obedient.’
Theo knew this was a dig at him, his wife’s attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Steady on, old girl!’
Jilly laughed. ‘Mother sends her love. Jack is in Le Havre. Has a position at the base camp there, something to do with bayonet training.’ Pennington brought a tray and set it down between them. Jilly smoothed her hair behind her ear nervously, taking the cup when it was offered to her, but then seeming unsure what to do with it while the tea was still too hot to sip. Once she and Sebastian had been good friends, brought together by her affection for Neil. Their relationship had been the teasing one of brother and sister. Now that dial seemed to have been reset to strangers. Actually, Sebastian realized, he was the odd one out: the others hadn’t changed while he felt he was an impostor sitting in the chair that a younger Sebastian should be in. He pulled his attention back to the matter at hand. Jilly was still chattering. ‘Mother and Jack have both been so worried. They’ll want to know how you are. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is your sight affected?’
Annoyed by the sympathy in her blue eyes, he decided to blast her with the full facts of his infirmities. ‘No, I can see, Jilly; I’m just scarred. My leg’s out of action still due to a bullet taking its merry time to find an exit from my thigh. Apparently, I’m lucky to have it. Unlike my little finger.’ He held up his mangled left hand.
Her pretty lips rounded in surprise. ‘So many wounds! Mother told me you’d been shot, but I hadn’t realized.’
‘I was lucky to come away with only these injuries.’
‘Lucky. Yes.’ She looked down at her hands. The nails were manicured, even white crescents topping each finger. ‘We’re so relieved you survived. Our cousin didn’t. Remember him? Ferdie? Died ten days after you were injured.’
Her gentle tone reprimanded Sebastian for his bad temper. She had suffered, was still suffering, even if she had not been in danger’s path herself. There was nothing wrong with her or her attitude: she was a kind, ordinary sort of girl; it was he who was the brooding presence in the sunny landscape. ‘I’m sorry, Jilly. To be honest, I’m more surprised when I hear someone survived the battle than to get news of another death. So many good men are losing their lives.’ He buried his bad hand in his pocket so she didn’t have to look at it.
‘And you seem well on the way to mending. The scar makes you look quite dashing, don’t you know?’ Jilly had rallied, her initial, more honest, shock giving way to politeness.
‘So Steven tells me. Says I have a great future as a pirate.’
She smiled, eyes gleaming with affection for the youngest Trewby. ‘No, no, you mustn’t listen to him. It’s not as drastic as that. It’s already fading, no need for a rascally eye patch and parrot. You must come to the hunt ball and let all us girls make a fuss of you.’
‘The hunt ball? That old thing still going ahead?’
‘Of course. We have to show the Boche they won’t drag down our morale. It’s not like it used to be, not with so many men away, but we make the best of it, girls dancing with each other and so on. I’ll make sure you have a good seat near the action so you can watch us make fools of ourselves.’
Sebastian had a sudden recollection of dancing at the Ritz with Helen. They had muddled their way round the floor, neither of them expert at the one-step, but it had been the most magical dance of his life. She would enjoy the ball. Was there any chance she might get leave? ‘When is it?’
‘End of October. Plenty of time for you to prepare yourself.’
‘For what?’ If she thought he would be dancing by then, she would be disappointed.
‘For being the centre of attention naturally. Our local hero.’ Jilly stood up. ‘Thank you for the tea, Lady Mabel. I must be off. I’m helping with Red Cross parcels today.’
‘Of course, dear. Send our love to your mother.’
With a little wave, Jilly was off, guided by the ever-present Pennington out through the front door.
‘Lovely girl that,’ his mother said, placing her empty cup on the tray.
‘Mabel,’ murmured Theo in warning.
‘I’m only speaking the truth. The Glanvilles have been good friends to this family. It would do nobody any harm if she and Sebastian revived their old friendship – good for both of them.’
‘We are friends, mother.’ Sebastian tapped his knee in frustration. ‘But no more if that’s what you’re hoping.’
‘He’s got his girl – that brave little thing in France.’ Theo got out his pipe and stuffed the bowl with a tiny pinch of tobacco from his pouch. ‘Don’t go meddling.’
His mother acted all surprised. ‘It’s you two who are jumping to conclusions. I only meant they were the only ones left behind of their old crowd what with the other boys being away or … or …’ She cleared her throat then set off again. ‘The young need each other’s company. It must be tedious for Sebastian stuck with us day in, day out.’
‘Please, mother, I know what you’re doing even if you won’t admit it. Don’t throw Jilly at me or get her hopes up. I’ve seen it happen with other chaps and it’s not pretty.’ With a shudder, he remembered that churchyard in Br
amley; that was not going to be repeated here.
His mother got up. ‘I meant nothing of the sort, Sebastian. And it’s unfair of you to accuse me of meddling, Theodore.’
Oh, now his father was in trouble. When he was called a full ‘Theodore’ rather than just ‘Theo’, he was in the doghouse.
His father took it with a shrug. He was well aware his wife had the quirk of blaming others when she was at fault. ‘Then we don’t have to worry about you stirring up the hornets’ nest, do we?’ He smiled at his wife.
‘Oh, you two!’ She stalked off to bark a few orders at the servants to relieve her feelings.
Theo sucked at the stem of his pipe. ‘She means well.’
THE SOMME, FORWARD MEDICAL STATION, 18 OCTOBER 1916
Helen collected her dinner from the cookhouse and carried it over to the benches that served as the nurses’ mess. Food at the hospital was not too bad: plenty of vegetables and meat, usually all thrown together in some kind of stew, but she had got used to that. From what Sebastian had told her about England, she suspected that the medical staff were better fed than many people back home.
Reg joined her at the table.
‘Not eating?’ Helen asked.
He shook his head and rolled a cigarette between his fingers.
‘You need to keep your strength up.’
He huffed and lit up.
‘Something the matter?’ They had come to an unspoken agreement over the last weeks that he didn’t have to pretend with her.
‘Doctors ’ave cleared me for active duty. I’m being sent back.’
Helen put down her knife and fork. ‘Oh, Reg.’
‘Yeah, I’ve ’ad a good run ’ere. It ’as to come to an end I s’pose.’
‘Are you returning to your regiment?’
He took an impatient puff on his cigarette. ‘Yup.’
‘I … I’ll be sorry to see you go.’
‘Not as sorry as me.’
‘No, not as sorry as you.’
He patted her wrist. ‘Eat up. I didn’t want to spoil your dinner.’
She had lost all desire for her meal. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
He nodded. ‘Look, if I go west, will you write to my missus for me? Give her a word or two of comfort. You’re good at that. Tell ’er ’ow I found friends out ’ere.’
‘Of course I will. But I’m counting on you to come through, you know.’
‘We’ll see. I don’t feel too ’opeful myself.’
‘Then I’ll be hopeful for you. When are you off?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘I’ll be there to say goodbye. Come back and visit if you can. You’ll be much missed around here.’
He scratched at his throat, the noose of the next day already choking him. ‘Yeah, I’ll do that. If I can. Don’t worry about me; I’ve got a plan. I won’t be caught again without a way out.’
Helen puzzled over what he meant. ‘You’ve got a chance of another position? We’d keep you here if your commanders allowed.’
He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘And I’d take the offer like a shot. No, nothink like that, lovey. Just don’t worry about me, all right? Worry about yourself; keep out of ’arm’s way.’
His words did not reassure her. For hours after he had left her, she fretted over what he had meant like a snag in a pair of stockings. The run of worry grew larger despite her efforts to stop it.
Reg walked off the next morning with a cheery wave, his public cheeky chap image firmly in place along with his newly brushed uniform. His unit was only a few miles away, a short walk that separated their limbo from the hell over the ridge.
‘We’ll miss him, won’t we?’ said Mary Henderson, linking her arm with Helen. ‘He certainly knew the secret of raising morale around here.’
‘And I imagine we’ll notice his absence most when we run out of biscuits or tea,’ sighed Dr Cameron. ‘That man is a genius when it comes to finding things. He’s wasted at the front.’ He patted his pocket and drew out his cigarette case. ‘And I owe him five shillings for our last card game; he never bothered to collect.’
‘He’s a good man,’ Helen stated quietly. ‘He hated leaving us.’
Dr Cameron drew out a cigarette. ‘Perhaps I could have a word with his CO. I was wondering about running first-aid courses here for the men due to go up to the front.’
‘When? In your spare time?’ Mary looked sceptical. None of them could remember a quiet day since the Somme offensive began in July.
‘Well, it does matter. Those first few minutes after a man’s hit – we can’t be there, but their mates can. We might save more lives this way.’ Dr Cameron tapped the cigarette on the case, twirling it in his fingers.
‘Don’t they get training already?’ Mary gestured in the general direction of England. ‘Before they come out, I mean.’
‘Yes, but I imagine it’s all the more memorable on the eve of having to use it. Some of these boys are straight out of school – never seen a bullet wound or a shrapnel injury – don’t have the foggiest idea what to do when they meet it for real.’
‘What’s this to do with Lance-Corporal Cook?’ asked Helen.
‘I’d need a man to run the scheme for me – work it out with the regimental HQs and so on. He’d be good at that.’
‘Yes, he would. Did you mention it to him?’
Dr Cameron shook his head. ‘I didn’t want to raise his hopes. I’ll put in the request now. See if we can sort this out in the next week or two.’
Helen prayed that Reg would survive that long unscathed.
17
The morning was dragging to its close when all the nurses were summoned to an urgent meeting in the matron’s office. Helen had been in bed, having stayed up after her shift to say farewell to Reg. Their section leader, Sister Richards, stood at the window of her office with her back to them, waiting for the last to arrive. Helen counted those present: fifteen. That was the whole contingent. Only something truly extraordinary could have made matron pull everyone off the wards. Her feeling of unease grew.
Sister Richards turned round when the door closed behind Mary Henderson and Miss Kelly. ‘Thank you all for coming. I’m sorry to summon those of you who are off duty from your rest period, but I have an announcement to make. Once you’ve heard what I have to say, I am sure you will understand how serious the matter is.’
The nurses exchanged nervous glances. Was this news that they had to retreat? Had the Germans broken through? Urgent though the meeting was, it didn’t seem quite as desperate in tone as that. Helen tried to rein in her wilder imaginings.
‘Last night, the medical supply cabinet was broken into. I checked the inventory and twenty morphine pills have been taken.’
In other words, enough to kill a man several times over.
‘First I need to ask if anyone took the tablets and failed to write it down on the sheet.’
No one spoke.
‘I did not think so. None of you applied to me for the key. The cupboard was forced with a screwdriver. That leaves a more worrying possibility: someone stole the medicine for their personal gain.’
There was a black market in the pills. Only officers were issued them to give out in extremis to treat battlefield injuries, but the common soldiers were keen to get their hands on some to use at their own discretion. An officer wasn’t always on hand when a painkiller was needed.
‘Who was on duty last night between two and five in the morning?’
Helen raised her hand, as did two other nurses. The matron must have known this, but she was making a point.
‘Did any of you see anything untowar
d?’
Helen thought back to the previous night’s work. She did not remember even going near the nurses’ room, let alone the medicine cupboard. Night duties all blurred into each other after a while. She shook her head. The other two nurses did likewise.
‘So none of you saw anything? Or anyone? Nurse Sandford?’
‘Nothing out of the ordinary,’ Helen replied. She didn’t like Sister Richards’ expression; the section leader was looking at her as if she were desperately disappointed. But what could she have done to prevent a theft? She had been nursing the injured, not standing guard over the medicine.
‘You three remain behind. The rest of you can go.’ Sister Richards turned back to her window.
Mary gave Helen a sympathetic look as the other nurses filed out. Helen and her two colleagues stood awkwardly in silence, wondering what more could be asked of them when none of them knew anything.
Then it dawned on Helen that she could guess who had taken the morphine. Oh, Reg, was this your way out? She had no proof, but it fitted. He was familiar with the hospital, had been driven to his wits’ end. He would have seen the theft of a few pills as a small matter in the greater scheme of things. She doubted he realized the problems he had left behind for others. How could she even mention it as it would scupper any chance he had of coming back as Dr Cameron’s first-aid man?
I have no evidence, just a hunch, Helen told herself. I don’t have to say anything.
Doctors Cameron and Barnett entered without knocking. Both looked very sombre. They took seats behind Sister Richards’ desk, Barnett in the middle. Matron took the third seat at his right hand. Suddenly the meeting had turned into a trial.
‘Nurses, we have to get to the bottom of this,’ Barnett announced irritably. He had also been on duty last night and was probably desperate to get to his bed. ‘Sister Richards here requested an opportunity to ask one of you to confess before we got involved, but I understand that has not happened. We are extremely disappointed.’