Wheels of Grace

by Crosse, Tania

  ‘Like you do,’ Oliver finished for her.

  ‘Yes. And if you do have children, they’ll need you.’

  They looked at each other, eyes clinging, crazed. Defeated. And knew that the truth was there only to crucify them.

  Grace walked, unsteadily, across the great hall. She had seen Oliver arrive, hovering as if he hoped to have a brief word with her, but Matron had appeared and astutely whisked him into her office before he had the chance. Perhaps it was for the best. To say another goodbye as they had the previous afternoon, knowing it might well be the last moment they ever truly shared, would simply destroy her.

  She saw Mrs Smith-Haddon arrive a few minutes later, looking lost, worried, charged beyond hope. Her expression said it all. But if she was Oliver’s wife, Grace wanted to hate her. She went over to ask if she could help, seething, craving to find something she could despise about her. But the pretty young woman appeared distraught, her hands fluttering nervously.

  ‘I’ve come to see if the man you’ve been calling Lieutenant Smith is my husband,’ she said shakily. ‘I can’t believe it. All this time I thought he was dead. I just hope to God … I couldn’t bear it if it isn’t him. It would be … like losing him all over again.’

  Tears clung to her lashes, and Grace’s heart melted. How could she have been so selfish? But she loved Oliver, and this was all … so cruel.

  ‘Have they warned you that he has a nasty scar across his cheek?’ she asked gently, since it could be a shock to the woman if she didn’t know. But if she wasn’t Oliver’s wife, it wouldn’t matter. Oh, please, please God …

  ‘Yes, but I don’t care. If he’s alive, that’s all that matters.’

  So Grace pointed out Matron’s office. But she simply couldn’t bring herself to show Mrs Smith-Haddon inside. She went back to her work, although her mind was a million miles away, crushed and yet clinging to some reckless hope. It seemed an eternity but was in fact no more than twenty minutes before the door to Matron’s office opened again, and Grace’s heart crashed against her ribs. She hardly dared look. But she must, though the very core of her screamed out in protest.

  She knew instantly. Mrs Smith-Haddon was grasping Oliver’s arm as if she would never let it go, and her face gleamed as if lit by a torch of joy. Grace met Oliver’s bewildered gaze across the hall, and her soul splintered. Time fragmented and became meaningless – life a fathomless void.

  ‘Nurse Dannings!’ Oliver’s voice, strange and cracked, called across to her. And somehow her legs carried her to him. ‘This is apparently my wife, Nicola.’ And then looking down on Mrs Smith-Haddon with a blend of despair and compassion since this poor woman had suffered as much as any of them, he said, ‘Nicola, this is the nurse who cared for me so well while I’ve been here.’

  ‘Yes, we met earlier.’ Nicola Smith-Haddon beamed with sublime elation. ‘I can’t thank you enough!’

  She shook Grace’s hand in a gesture that spoke of the deepest sincerity. Behind her, Grace read the tearing anguish on Oliver’s – Clarence’s – face. Was there any hope for them? But she knew, didn’t she? Oliver would do what was right and proper. And he would be less of a man in her eyes if he didn’t.

  ‘Just doing my job,’ someone answered. Was it her? But there was something she had to know. ‘But … do you recognize your wife?’ she asked falteringly.

  Oliver screwed up his lips. ‘No.’ Grace saw Nicola’s jaw tremble at his reply. But then he continued, ‘Show Nurse Dannings the photos, would you?’

  ‘Of course.’ The smile, more tentative this time, returned to Nicola’s face as she rummaged in her handbag. Grace knew her own hand was shaking as she took the photographs. What if Nicola saw? But just now she was past caring. Her eyes fell on a wedding portrait – of Oliver and Nicola smiling jubilantly into the camera. And then two little boys, like peas in a pod except for being a few years apart in age.

  Grace gasped. ‘Your painting,’ she breathed.

  ‘Yes.’ Oliver gulped. ‘So there is a memory there somewhere.’

  A torrent of emotions welled up in Grace’s breast. ‘Good. I’m so pleased.’ She somehow nailed a smile on her face. ‘And I truly hope that your memory comes back properly and that you find happiness again.’ Despite her efforts, a rogue tear escaped her eye and she dabbed it away. ‘Forgive me, but this is a wonderful moment,’ she lied. And scraping herself together, she asked, ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘We’re going home tomorrow,’ Oliver answered pointedly. ‘To build a new life somehow. Or to find our old one again. So … this is goodbye. And thank you once again for everything.’

  Their eyes met in one final, desperate glance, and then Oliver held open the vestibule door for his wife. Grace watched them, her heart bleeding. But she couldn’t let Oliver go. Just one moment more. Please. She sprang forward, out of control.

  ‘Lieutenant!’

  ‘Yes?’ He turned back, his eyes glistening. ‘And it’s Mister now, thank God.’

  ‘Of course. I were just going to say, if you wouldn’t mind, do let me know how you progress. Yours has been such an interesting case.’

  ‘Yes, I will.’

  ‘Take care of yourself, then. And good luck to you both.’

  Oliver nodded, Nicola’s beaming smile widened again, and Grace saw them outside. She waited, grief swallowing her into a great black hole, while they walked away down the long driveway, crossed the bridge, and disappeared out of her life for ever.

  Curiously enough, it was in Aggie’s arms that she wept that evening. The other girl patted her shoulder, smoothed her hair. And as the broken sorrow gradually washed out of her, Aggie held her tightly.

  ‘I know just how you feel,’ Aggie crooned softly. ‘I’ve … I’ve been seeing someone all these months. In my off-duty time. I met him in the town. He was home recovering from trench-foot. Not bad enough to need any amputation, but you know it can take ages to clear up. But … it’s better now, and he’s just been sent back to his battalion. The Second Devons. And with all this fierce fighting started up again …’

  Her words filtered slowly into Grace’s brain, and she pulled away, sniffing back her tears. ‘I wondered why you kept going into town. But … you never said.’

  ‘No. Well, I knew what you’d think. Aggie Nonnacott, the flirt. The slut. First Martin, and now Keith. I never thought I’d ever love anyone ever again after Martin was killed. But it is possible to fall in love again. And I truly love Keith, and I hope to God—’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Grace took her hands. ‘At least I know Oliver’s alive. And God willing, he’ll find happiness again. And, though it breaks my heart that it can’t be with me, I must learn to be grateful for that. Oh, Aggie, this war is so awful. Not just all those soldiers dying or being maimed, but what it’s done to everyone. But at least it’s made us friends, hasn’t it?’

  Aggie’s distressed face moved into a wry smile. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say that, Grace Dannings. Never in a million years. But I’m so pleased you have.’

  ‘And do you know, so am I?’ Grace replied.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ‘THAT’S TREMENDOUS, CAPTAIN! Well done!’

  Captain Evershed’s face radiated with triumph as he reached the bottom of the grand staircase. His left leg still had a slight tremor, but it was nothing that anyone would notice unless they knew of his medical history.

  ‘When I think that when I came here last summer,’ he answered proudly, ‘I just lay on the floor, writhing out of control and unable to speak, it’s an absolute miracle. What everyone’s done for me here is beyond words. Soon I’ll be going home to my family as a proper man again, and you, Nurse Dannings, were part of it.’

  ‘Oh, I only came for a couple of sessions a week,’ Grace protested, flushing with embarrassment.

  ‘I know. But we all missed you when you didn’t come for that couple of months. Private Wicks especially,’ the captain ended with a knowing wink.

  But even
mention of the cheeky young private couldn’t stop the knife from twisting in Grace’s side. ‘I … had other things on my mind for a while,’ she murmured. But she had succeeded in thrusting her misery aside and was determined not to let it raise its ugly head again. ‘So, let’s see you go back up again.’

  She followed the captain back up the staircase, biting her lip as the tearing memories flooded back. She had buried them deeply by hurling herself back into her work. She was planning another concert, and every other moment of her off-duty she spent helping on Happiness Ward. It was so satisfying to see men being discharged to civilian life, and watching the progress of the new patients who took their places. It had all helped to cement Grace’s aspirations for the future. Her relationship with Oliver had made her doubt whether she wanted to sacrifice a normal life for the sake of becoming a properly trained nurse. And, of course, Larry had pointed that out to her as well. But now that sacrifice would be her salvation. If she couldn’t devote herself to Oliver, she would devote herself to a career helping others.

  She had told Larry all about Oliver. How could she not when he was her dearest, lifelong friend? She couldn’t bear to have any secrets from him and, of course, they shared that one, appalling secret about Martin. Nobody else in the world knew the entire truth apart from Reg. But having received an honourable discharge following his wounds at Passchendaele, he been sworn to secrecy and they knew they could rely on him.

  Once Oliver had been discharged so that their feelings for each other no longer broke the rules of Grace’s employment, Grace had revealed all to Larry. He had written back, wishing them well and hoping everything would work out for them. Later, when Oliver’s identity had been established, Grace had written to Larry of her broken heart. She had said, quite truthfully, that she couldn’t be jealous of Nicola Smith-Haddon. If Grace had been in her shoes, she could imagine how the poor woman felt. It didn’t make her own pain any easier. Larry had written by return in the sensible, comforting way she knew he would, not gushing over with meaningless platitudes, but simply stating that war made a mess of people’s lives in so many ways, and that he would always be there for her.

  Now, as she followed Captain Evershed’s slow progress up the stairs, Grace’s mind drifted back to when, towards the end of May, she had managed to get a full day off-duty, making it worth her while to go home. She got off the train at Horrabridge, walking the couple of miles across Knowle Down to reach Walkhampton, her heart eased to be out in the countryside again with views up to the rugged moorland that was in her blood.

  As she neared the village, Grace kept her eyes open – unsuccessfully – for her father or Farmer Snell. Never mind. Her father always came home for lunch and if Grace had time, she would call into the Snells on her way back.

  She opened the door to the little cottage, expecting to be greeted by the usual chaos. To her surprise, it was unusually tidy and although Temperance wasn’t there, a tasty-smelling stew was simmering on the range. Grace guessed her mother might be at Nan’s helping with the four young children, so she set off on the short distance down the hill.

  ‘Larry!’ she cried excitedly at the familiar figure coming towards her.

  ‘Morning, Grace. What are you doing here? Come to see your parents at last?’ he said with a hint of bitterness.

  Grace felt somewhat miffed. ‘Yes. I managed to get a whole day off – at last,’ she answered with a flash of her eyes. ‘I’ll call in to see you later. Is Mummy at Nan’s, do you know?’

  ‘I think so. But I won’t have time to chat. We’re really busy. I’m just getting something from the timber yard. Have a good day.’

  He limped past her towards the yard, leaving Grace staring, slack-jawed, at his back. Her forehead compressed into deep folds. It wasn’t like Larry to be so short. Grace shrugged, and continued on her way. Perhaps she had mistaken his attitude, and she had enough to deal with in her struggle to heal the hurt over Oliver.

  It wasn’t easy with so much to remind her of him all around her every day. Captain Evershed’s innocent comment just now jolted her thoughts back to the present and she swallowed down her agony. And then, just as they reached the top step, Aggie brushed past them in a blind, headlong rush towards the dormitory. She was off-duty, too, and Grace knew she had gone into town to seek news of her young man from his parents. By her behaviour, Grace was convinced something was wrong.

  ‘Will you excuse me, Captain?’ she asked politely, and then dashed after Aggie.

  The other girl was lying face down on her bed, banging her fists on the pillow, her body racked with violent sobs. Oh, no. A solid knot tightened inside Grace as she put a tentative hand on Aggie’s shoulder.

  ‘Aggie?’ she whispered.

  Aggie at once turned and flung herself into Grace’s arms. ‘Oh, Gracie, he’s dead!’ she squealed. ‘There’s been this awful battle going on the last ten days. Biggest German bombardment ever, they say. And … they used masses of gas and … Oh, Grace, he died later from the gas. It … would’ve been horrific. He’d have suffered so dreadfully….’

  Dear God. Grace’s blood froze. But she must find the strength to comfort and soothe poor Aggie, even though she knew her words would be futile. ‘Oh, Aggie, try not to think about it. There’s nort to be done, and it’s all over now.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Aggie wheezed. ‘I’m pregnant and his parents don’t want to know.’

  Grace’s jaw fell open and she had to suppress a gasp of shock. Oh, Jesus. ‘Are … you sure?’ she dared to ask.

  ‘Oh, yes. We only did it once, after he got his recall papers. It was a sort of leaving present. I never thought …’ Aggie seemed less hysterical now and sat back, though she wrung her hands in her lap. ‘I won’t even get a war widow’s pension, and his parents threw me out saying he’d never have done it and that I’m a liar and a slut.’ She sniffed, lifting her head proudly. ‘And I expect you think so, too.’

  ‘Aggie, no, I—’

  ‘Remember when you found Martin and me down by the brook? The look on your face—’

  ‘That were a long time ago,’ Grace insisted, but Aggie cut her short again.

  ‘I was always so jealous of you, having Larry and Martin and Stephen. Always together, having fun, when I had nobody. I remember when you followed them jumping off Huckworthy Bridge into the river and Larry had to save you. I was so jealous, I wished you’d drowned. I was hiding nearby, watching you, as I often did. My father would’ve killed me if I’d got my clothes wet or dirty as you did all the time. The slightest smear of mud on my boots and he’d beat me.’

  ‘Beat you?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Aggie spat viciously. ‘I’d have done anything to get away from him. That’s why I always wanted to seduce Martin. Don’t misunderstand me. I loved Martin with all my heart, but I wanted to get pregnant so that he’d marry me and take me away from my father. He’d have agreed to that,’ she snorted. ‘The Vencombes were some of the few people in the village he approved of. But for me, it had to be Martin. I know he never loved me, but I loved him. And I couldn’t seduce Larry. He was always too upright. Besides, he was always yours.’

  ‘Mine?’ Grace was incredulous, her head whirling with Aggie’s confession.

  ‘Of course.’ It was Aggie’s turn to be astonished. ‘All those nasty things I did, it was a way of hitting back because I was so envious of you all. And now I’ve got my comeuppance. I’ll have to tell my father, though he’ll likely murder me.’

  ‘Not if I come with you.’ The words were out of Grace’s mouth before she could stop them, but a bitter argument with someone was just what her pent-up emotions needed just now. ‘Come on. It’s Saturday afternoon. Your father’ll be at home. And we’re off-duty for the rest of the day.’

  ‘Oh.’ Aggie’s face had turned to paper. ‘Do you…?’

  ‘Strike while the iron’s hot,’ Grace answered grimly.

  It wasn’t until they were on the train that reality rushed at her and her stomach sickened. Wha
t in God’s name had she let herself in for? But she couldn’t let Aggie down now, could she?

  ‘Oh, Gracie, I be that pleased to see you!’ Nan Sampson, four small children around her skirt, shrieked as they came into Walkhampton. ‘I’s just had a letter. From John! He’s been alive all this time! He were dreadful wounded and took prisoner. But now he’s better, and he’ll be kept in the camp till the war’s over. So he will be coming home one day! And he says to tell you he’s been thinking about you. And he’s going to be a much better husband when he comes home.’

  Grace blinked at Nan’s jubilant face. Under other circumstances, she would have been delighted for her. And who knew, John might come home a more considerate husband? If so, the upset of all the arguments Grace had had with him would have been worthwhile.

  ‘That’s wonderful news, Nan. But I can’t stop now. We’re going to see Mr Nonnacott.’

  ‘Nasty Nonnacott?’ Nan frowned, and looked Aggie distastefully up and down. ‘What does you want with him, Gracie?’

  ‘It’ll be all over the village soon, so you might as well know now,’ Aggie sighed. ‘I’m having a baby and the father’s been killed and we’re on our way to tell my father.’

  Nan’s eyes stretched like saucers in her round face. ‘Rather you than me!’

  Grace pulled a wry grimace. ‘I’m not exactly looking forward to it. But don’t worry about us. You go and celebrate.’

  ‘I will. But you be careful,’ Nan frowned, watching them move on.

  ‘You don’t have to do this,’ Aggie croaked a few moments later as they turned into her parents’ front garden.

  ‘Well, we’ve come this far,’ Grace answered, steeling her courage.

  Five minutes later, she wasn’t at all sure it had been the right decision. She had felt convinced that confronting Mr Nonnacott in the presence of another person would have lessened his reaction. How wrong she had been. His face worked like some hideous gargoyle as he absorbed the news, turning a vivid puce and his eyes bulging as if he would burst open with rage. Grace, her own skin slicked in nervous sweat, watched his wife cowering in the corner, while Aggie, despite her earlier bravado, simply withered on the spot.