The Silver Locket (Choc Lit)

by Margaret James

  They found a nursing sister, one arm trailing like a broken wing, crouching by a fallen man, desperately feeling for a pulse and calling out his Christian name.

  ‘What’s happened?’ asked a sergeant, who was pulling on his greatcoat and staring at the scene with big, round eyes.

  ‘Lieutenant Easton has gone mad!’ Rose was trying to get Alex to sit up. ‘This officer is bleeding from the forearm, and Lieutenant Easton’s hurt as well.’

  ‘Yeah, and he looks quite bad.’ A corporal had gone to see to Michael, who was sitting on the ground and sobbing. ‘It’s his right hand – there ain’t much left of it.’

  The sergeant hunkered down by Alex. ‘It’s Captain Denham, isn’t it?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Alex tersely. ‘Where is Sister Courtenay?’

  ‘She’s here, sir,’ said the sergeant.

  ‘She’s hurt?’

  ‘Yes, sir, she’s hurt. Sir, what shall we do with the lieutenant?’

  ‘Take him to the guard room and tell Sergeant Blake to lock him up.’

  ‘But Corporal Taylor says he’s wounded.’

  ‘Sergeant, do as you are told.’ Alex struggled to his feet. ‘Or you’ll be on a charge.’

  ‘What will happen to Mike?’ asked Rose, as she watched three men march him away.

  Alex shrugged. ‘He’ll probably be court-martialled, but I doubt if he’ll be punished. I sent in a report before we left, saying I thought he shouldn’t come to Russia, that he was mentally unfit, and that he should have gone home years ago. Rose, what did he do to you?’

  ‘It’s just my arm.’

  ‘It’s broken?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’ Rose suddenly felt ill. The trees were moving, crowding in on them.

  ‘Sergeant!’ Alex caught her as she swayed. ‘For God’s sake, man – don’t stand there gawking! Help me get Miss Courtenay to the ship.’

  As she stumbled through the snow, supported by a sergeant and a corporal, Rose turned to look at Alex. ‘I didn’t know you had your Webley,’ she said, frowning. ‘You’re not supposed to have a gun when you’re in hospital.’

  ‘Rose, I wouldn’t have left the ship without one.’ Alex grinned and dabbed at his left sleeve, which was now dark with blood. ‘I wouldn’t have brought you out here unarmed, with a million Bolsheviks and other scum about.’

  Rose knew there would be gossip, that all the nursing staff would be agog. She hoped the fuss would die down quickly, but to her distress she soon became a cause célèbre. She’d saved the life of Captain Denham, who was everybody’s favourite patient. But who now turned out to be in love with her – and was a married man.

  Sister Harrison was scandalised. ‘I shall be making a report at once,’ she said severely. ‘If this had happened in France, you would be on the boat back home. You might be an effective nurse, Miss Courtenay, but your personal conduct has made you a disgrace to the profession. I will not have nursing staff conducting love affairs on board my ship.’

  ‘But the others all think it’s romantic,’ smiled Elsie, when she came to the sick bay to see Rose. ‘Although there’s a bit of envy, too. Staff Nurse Pelham’s positively green that you should have a couple of officers fighting over you!’

  ‘It wasn’t like that at all.’ Rose eased her plastered arm, then fiddled with the knots that held the sling. ‘Elsie, how is Alex, do you know?’

  ‘The bullet merely grazed him.’ Elsie grinned. ‘The wound just needed dressing. He’ll be better in a week.’

  ‘What will happen to him now?’

  ‘Well, of course the boys are ragging him. But they all say he has good taste in nurses. After all, he nabbed the prettiest one.’

  ‘He won’t be court-martialled, or anything like that?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Why?’

  ‘Sister Harrison’s furious with me. She says I’ve brought the nursing service into disrepute, that I’ll never be allowed to nurse a man or officer again. I’m a disgrace, and ought to hang my head in shame.’

  ‘She’s just a miserable old bat. I don’t suppose she’s ever had a man, or even been in love.’

  ‘She’s absolutely right, though.’ Rose’s grey eyes filled, then overflowed. ‘He’s married to another woman. I should never have got involved with him. He’ll be the death of me!’

  ‘We don’t choose whom we love,’ said Elsie. ‘I was supposed to marry George’s brother. He’s the eldest son with all the money, and my mother had it all worked out.’

  ‘But you fell in love with George?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ said Elsie, and she blushed. ‘Rose, you can’t imagine all the ructions, all the carrying on! Everybody thought I must be pregnant. Or insane. My sister said I should be locked away.’

  ‘You’re a dark horse, Elsie Dennison. Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

  ‘You never asked. Anyway, when we first met, I was doing my hopeless best to be a proper nurse, and you’d begun a passionate affair with Captain Denham.’

  ‘God, the risks I took!’ Rose shook her head. ‘You must have thought I was a lunatic.’

  ‘No, I could see you were in love.’ Elsie shrugged. ‘That first stage doesn’t last very long. Rose, you don’t have to kiss him nowadays. You don’t need to hear him say he loves you.’

  ‘No, but of course I’d like to kiss him.’

  ‘I’d give anything to spend an hour or two with George.’

  ‘We can wait.’ Rose grimaced ruefully. ‘I’ll have no choice. Thanks to Sister Harrison, I’m as good as under guard. If this ship had a dungeon, I’d be in it.’

  Rose’s arm took several weeks to mend, and February had turned into March before she could be any use again, this time well away from patients whom she might contaminate, or fascinate like a modern day Salome with her wanton ways.

  The scarlet woman of the Kalyan spent her time in sluices, scrubbing bed pans, disinfecting urine bottles, sterilising kidney bowls and bleaching all the sinks.

  She heard that Alex had returned to service, but she refused to think about him out there in the snowy wastes, or about the dangers he’d be facing in the forest.

  The British army was shoring up a lost cause, anyway – or so Elsie said. The Whites were losing, all the men assured her, and back in Britain there was no support for British interference in Russian home affairs. The men were all demoralised and longing to go home.

  So when Elsie came to find Rose one bright day in March, when it was still light at three o’clock and the Arctic spring was finally challenging the Arctic winter and the silver birches were showing tips of green, Rose was thrilled to hear they would soon be pulling out.

  ‘When?’ she asked, excitedly.

  ‘After they’ve blown up all those ammunition dumps, of course.’

  ‘Why can’t we just leave the wretched dumps?’ Rose turned back to her kidney bowls. ‘If they start blowing things up, there’ll be more injuries, more deaths.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be careful.’

  ‘It’s not just him!’ cried Rose. ‘I’m not that selfish! I care about the other men, as well!’

  She began to scrub with angry fury. ‘I don’t want any more killing, maiming, dying. There’s been enough these past four years to last the human race a century.’

  The ammunition dumps were all blown up, mistakes were made, and more men died. The sound of tons of shells, grenades and high explosive going up made the black earth tremble. In the harbour at Archangel, the fleet of Allied ships rocked on the waves.

  In April, heavy ice-breakers got through. They led the British warships through narrow channels cut in the still frozen Barents Sea.

  ‘We’ll see the spring in England,’ Elsie said, as she and Rose stood on the deck, gazing hopefully towards the promised land, knowing they wouldn’t see it for at least another week.

  Rose thought about spring at Charton Minster, how it was the loveliest time of year, a dream of blue and gold. She’d done her travelling, and was looking forward to
being home again, to seeing Celia, Daisy – even her father, if he would let his wayward, prodigal daughter visit him.

  She was returning in disgrace. Sister Harrison had told her she would not be getting a campaign medal. As soon as she stepped off the Kalyan, she’d no longer be an army nurse – or any other kind, if Sister Harrison had her way. She had embroiled the nursing service in shame and ignominy.

  ‘What will you do now?’ asked Elsie, as their ship steamed into Liverpool.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Rose.

  ‘Do you have any money?’

  ‘Yes, a little.’

  ‘I think you should go home and see your father.’

  ‘I might not be welcome. He said he was going to change his will and disinherit me.’

  ‘Go to Dorset anyway, and if there are any problems, come and stay with me.’ Elsie handed Rose an envelope, and Rose knew by the feel of it that it was full of money.

  ‘Elsie Dennison, you’re a brick,’ she whispered.

  ‘You’re my friend,’ said Elsie, and she smiled. ‘It’ll work out, you’ll see. You and Captain Denham, I mean. You’re going to be all right.’

  ‘Elsie, I don’t even know if he’s alive or dead.’ Rose put the envelope in her bag, telling herself she’d get some sort of job without delay. Elsie would have her money back before the year was out.

  She caught a train to Dorchester, and then took the branch line down to Charton. She walked along the private gravelled road which served the Courtenay family estate, then cut across the fields.

  She stood on a small bluff from which she could see the little Dower House and the great golden Minster, then the distant headland and behind it a blue curl of sunlit sea.

  She’d never seen a sight so gloriously beautiful, never felt such passionate love for this green, rolling country. It broke her heart to know she had no right to be here, that if her father wanted he could have his steward or his bailiff turn her off his land.

  As she stood and gazed, she realised she had not come home. She would be a wanderer now, and Charton would never be her home again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘Rose! Rose, wait for me!’

  She turned to see Alex running up the path that branched off from the village. In a pair of moleskin trousers and an old tweed jacket, he looked more like a gipsy than a soldier.

  Then she saw the smile that had enchanted her so many years ago. She dropped her case and ran to meet him.

  They stood there hesitating for a moment.

  Then Alex took Rose in his arms and kissed her, tenderly at first, and then with mounting passion, and she forgot her earlier dejection, for now she knew that in the truest, most important sense she had indeed come home.

  ‘I knew we would be leaving two or three days before the Kalyan sailed, but I didn’t dare get in touch with you,’ he told her, as he held her tight. ‘I didn’t want to get you into any further trouble.’

  ‘You couldn’t have done that.’ Rose shook her head. ‘I’ve been dismissed. I left the service in disgrace. I’m not to be invited to any of the reunions they’re planning. I won’t get any medals. I shan’t be taking part in any victory parades.’

  ‘It’s all because of me,’ said Alex. ‘If you hadn’t got involved with me, you’d be a matron now. You’d have whole rows of medals.’

  ‘I don’t know about medals, but I might still be a nurse, if not a very good one.’

  ‘Rose, don’t be ridiculous. You did your bit, and more. Whatever anyone else might say, I’m very proud of you.’

  ‘That’s something, I suppose.’

  ‘Do you have a smile for me, my darling?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Alex. It’s wonderful to see you, but I’m tired.’

  ‘So let’s get you to bed.’ Alex picked up her case. ‘I suppose you’re going to the Dower House?’

  ‘Yes, I was going to see my father. But I don’t know if he’ll let me in.’

  ‘Come and stay with me and Henry, then.’ Alex took her hand, and led her in the opposite direction to the Dower House.

  ‘But – but where’s Chloe?’ faltered Rose.

  ‘She’s staying with her parents at the depot. I don’t suppose she’s coming back to me.’ Alex shrugged. ‘The house is grim in winter, I’ll admit. But it’s almost bearable in spring.’

  So Rose went back to Henry Denham’s house. She went straight up to Alex’s room, undressed and went to bed.

  She slept all day, and when she finally woke up she saw Alex sitting by the window, his feet up on the sill, and he was staring out across the fields.

  ‘Alex?’ Yawning and stretching like a cat, she smiled at him. ‘What are you doing over there?’

  ‘Just making plans and wondering if they’ll come to anything.’

  ‘So tell me, then?’

  ‘Do you want to spend your life with me?’ Alex came over to the bed and sat down next to Rose. ‘I don’t think I can live without you, but when I think about all the time I’ve wasted, and how badly I’ve behaved, I feel you’d be much better off without me.’

  ‘Then I’d die,’ said Rose. ‘Last year, when I thought you didn’t love me, the only thing that kept me going was having a job to do. I was just pretending I was living. I was as good as dead inside.’

  ‘Oh, Rose, I’m sorry!’

  ‘So you should be.’ Rose poked Alex in the chest, and grinned at him. ‘Where did you get this ghastly outfit?’

  ‘These are Henry’s clothes. The roof above this bedroom leaks, and last winter all my stuff got soaked. Everything is mildewed and decayed.’

  ‘Well, you look like a poacher, as if you should be up before the Bench. So get undressed and come to bed.’

  ‘What happened to Michael?’ Rose asked Alex, as he and she lay tangled up in sheets and eiderdowns, several hours later. ‘I couldn’t find out anything. The nurses were forbidden to discuss the men with me.’

  ‘They had a surgeon look at him, and take off his right hand. Then he was invalided home to Dorset, suffering from neurasthenia. That was the official diagnosis, anyway.’

  ‘So there was no court martial, after all?’

  ‘No.’ Alex shrugged his shoulders. ‘They don’t court-martial madmen. Of course, since he came home, there’s been some muttering in the village – why hasn’t Mike won any medals, why is he hiding up at Easton Hall, why doesn’t he want to show his face in church, and all that kind of thing. You know how soldiers gossip, there’s been a lot of speculation back at barracks about what went on in Russia, and it’s spreading round the village, too. But Lady Easton’s going to give a party to welcome him back home. I don’t believe the Denhams are invited.’

  ‘If they were, I don’t suppose they’d go.’

  ‘Well, Henry might, if Mrs Sefton called for him, and drove him in her trap.’ Alex lay back against the crumpled pillows and took Rose in his arms. ‘You still have the locket I gave you.’

  ‘Did you think I’d lose it?’

  ‘I thought you might decide you didn’t want to wear it any more.’

  ‘Alex, listen to me,’ said Rose, ‘and listen carefully. Do you see this old quilt? You’ll notice that it’s leaking.’ She pulled out a big handful of soft down. ‘If I hear another word of nonsense, I shall push this stuffing down your throat!’

  They stayed in bed for three whole days, occasionally going down to the decrepit kitchens to forage in the stone and marble larders, and having cold collations of whatever they found there back in Alex’s bed.

  They plundered Henry’s cellar, and drank his pre-war burgundy straight from the dusty bottles. Alex lost all his English inhibitions and became a savage, wanton lover, his smooth, brown body coiling like a snake, possessing and devouring Rose.

  She was drunk with love. So much kissing meant her mouth was swollen, and her neck and breasts were blotched and bruised from too much loving, of which she knew she’d never have enough.

  ‘What must Henry think of us?’ she whispered the fo
urth morning, after another glorious, sleepless night.

  ‘He’s probably delighted we’re so happy. Come on, let’s get up. I have to go to work today.’

  ‘Why, what are you doing?’

  ‘I’m still in the army, don’t forget, so I have to do a stint in barracks now and then.’

  ‘In Dorchester?’

  ‘Of course.’ Alex shrugged his shoulders. ‘But there isn’t much to do, so I get home quite often.’

  ‘Good.’ Rose bit her lip. ‘I suppose I ought to go and see my father.’

  ‘Yes, you should.’ Alex grinned and shook his head. ‘I’m sure the village hags have been their usual busy selves, so Sir Gerard’s bound to know you’re back.’

  Rose left it a few days, then she found she couldn’t leave it any more. She took the path that led her past the Minster.

  The convalescent officers were long gone, and the great, golden house was full of workmen, cleaning, painting and re-polishing the scuffed and pitted floors.

  No one challenged her, so she walked upstairs to her old bedroom, where once she’d schemed and dreamed – it seemed like half a century ago. She stood and gazed towards the distant headland, towards the sunlit Channel.

  ‘May I help you, madam?’ said a woman’s voice that held the warm, familiar Dorset burr.

  ‘Polly?’ Rose spun round to see her former maid, who carried a pile of dust sheets and was frowning. The frown soon turned to recognition, and Polly’s face took on a look that Rose could not interpret.

  Then she realised that thanks to Henry’s servants, her amatory exploits must be common knowledge in the village, and Polly’s expression must be one of scorn.

  ‘I was on my way to see my father,’ Rose said, lightly, ‘but I thought I’d look in here first.’

  ‘The poor old Minster, it’s not a pretty sight.’ Polly laid the dust sheets on the bed. ‘Those soldiers were a very grubby lot. The nurses weren’t much better. Miss, you should have seen the bathrooms. I’ve never been so disgusted in my life! It’ll be years before we’re straight again.’

  ‘Where’s Sir Gerard, Polly?’

  ‘He’s still living at the Dower House, miss. He hasn’t got the heart to move back here, where he and your mother – well, you know.’