Wheels of Grace

by Crosse, Tania

  ‘You little whore!’ her father exploded, the veins on his neck standing out like ropes. ‘Bringing sin and ignominy upon our heads!’ He towered over Aggie until their noses touched and she shrank onto her knees. Grace watched in appalled fascination, disbelieving, as he slipped off his belt in one practised movement and slammed it down on Aggie’s back.

  Grace couldn’t believe her eyes. She could understand why poor Aggie used to be the unpleasant character she once was if her entire life had been dominated by such a monster. And as for his poor wife, no wonder she had turned into a recluse! It was as the belt found its target for a second time that Grace broke free from her shock and catapulted forward, hurling the volcano of pain and anguish of all she had seen and suffered over those past four years onto Mr Nonnacott’s arm. She clung to him in a frenzy of anger, but though she was tall, her willowy frame was no match for the burly man. The next instant, she was thrust back against the wall, winded and slithering to the floor.

  ‘It’s your fault, isn’t it?’ the demented voice bellowed over her. ‘You led her on, you trollop, the way you’ve always cavorted around with the Vencombe boys!’

  A furious eruption of red-hot indignation lifted Grace’s head, her mouth open and ready to protest. She hardly saw the belt whipping through the air before a searing pain slashed across her neck and chin. The force of it sent her sprawling, and before she could pick herself up, agony sliced across her shoulders again and again, battering her into the carpet.

  Somewhere through a black shroud she heard the door slam open and a roar of outrage echoed in her ears. Crashes and thumps banged about the room until all suddenly went quiet apart from the rapid, heavy breathing of someone quite close. Grace dared to peer out. Larry had pinned Mr Nonnacott to the floor and was sitting astride him, fist raised lest the devil tried to struggle free.

  ‘You bastard!’ he barked, swiftly drawing the back of his hand across the red stream that dripped from his torn lip. ‘Thank God Nan told me what had happened and I followed them up here. Now you, Mr Nonnacott, are going to make out a cheque for fifty pounds’ compensation to Miss Dannings—’

  ‘Fifty pounds!’

  ‘An amount I’m sure you can afford and precious little for what you’ve just done to her. And on Monday you’re going to set up a monthly allowance for your daughter. Then I’m going to report all this to Constable Rodgers with instructions that if I ever hear you’ve harmed a hair on either of the girls’ heads, or your wife’s for that matter, or you stop Aggie’s allowance, he’s to arrest you for assaulting Miss Dannings.’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Mr Nonnacott sneered, although Grace nonetheless detected defeat in his voice.

  ‘Wouldn’t I? And I’m sure Miss Dannings here would be perfectly willing to press charges, wouldn’t you, Grace?’ And before Grace could do more than nod in the affirmative, Larry added for good measure, ‘And I promise you I’d also reveal to the world what a cruel, vicious piece of work you really are, and that wouldn’t do your precious reputation among the Methodists much good, would it? So.’ He scrambled to his feet, jerking Mr Nonnacott upwards by the collar. ‘Get up, you blackguard, before I horsewhip you.’

  The next few minutes passed in a grey fog. Grace peeled herself from the floor, her shoulders and neck on fire with pain. Aggie was clinging onto her, and then Larry, who had taken the other man to write out the cheque, was back in the room, stony-faced as he glared at a scowling Mr Nonnacott. Then he grasped the two girls each by an arm and dragged them outside.

  ‘What the hell possessed you?’ he demanded as they staggered down the road.

  Grace turned her head, forcing aside the scorching pain that seemed to pierce every inch of her body. Her eyes narrowed, ready to do battle. But this was Larry, and her coiled fury was suddenly washed away by a riptide of unstoppable tears. She collapsed against him, feeling his strength and his goodness enter her heart like a soothing balm.

  ‘You’re a bloody idiot, Grace Dannings,’ she heard him sigh in tempered exasperation. ‘But that fifty pounds can go towards your nurse’s training when the war’s over. Good job I opened that bank account to pay in your allowance. I suggest you pay in that cheque first thing on Monday morning before he changes his mind. I’m certain he wouldn’t want me to tell his fellows in the Methodists what he’s really like, but I have no idea if the legal threats I made would hold water.’

  Grace glanced up at him through a blur of tears. ‘Don’t you?’ she croaked.

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  And that old, familiar smile slid onto his face, making him wince from his torn lip and flooding Grace’s heart with a river of emotion.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  DEAR NURSE DANNINGS

  I hope this finds you well and happy.

  I apologize for not writing before, but the months since leaving Tavistock have flown. It is an unimaginable experience piecing together a stranger’s life, knowing that it is in fact your own. My sons are adorable. I vowed for their sakes that I would behave towards them like their proper loving father, and they are such a delight that I really do feel as if that is what I am. Of course there was that small memory at the back of my mind, and I am gradually having more and more flashbacks.

  Grace paused, resting the letter in her lap. When Matron had handed her the envelope, her pulse had begun rattling erratically when she saw the Kent postmark. By her mid-morning break, however, when she could sit outside alone in the late September sunshine, she found herself oddly calm and driven to read on by curiosity rather than any other emotion.

  We live in a pleasant house on the outskirts of town. Little things are familiar as if I’d seen them in a dream. Going into the office where my senior partners treat me like a long-lost son, and studying old case notes, has triggered my knowledge of the law. I’ll need to brush up on it, but on the whole it has come flooding back, and it has brought other more personal memories with it.

  As for Nicola, she is such a beautiful, kind and warm person that I can understand why I married her. There is definitely something deep-down inside me, bursting to be reawakened, but even without that, I have found myself falling in love with her all over again. I really do feel that, as time passes and in familiar surroundings among people who know and love me, my memory will return in large part if not entirely, so that I can look forward to a happy and fulfilling future.

  It would seem that this horrific war will soon be over. We’ve been driving the Germans back for weeks and from what I have read in the newspapers, we’ll break through the Hindenburg Line any day and Germany will be forced to capitulate. Pray God it happens soon and the world can return to some semblance of normality. I recall you planned to train as a civilian nurse afterwards, and I wish you every success. I will never forget your kindness towards me and the other men at Mount Tavy.

  Take care of yourself, and good luck

  Your grateful patient

  Clarence Smith-Haddon

  Grace released her breath in a deep sigh. She had expected to feel tears pricking in her eyes, but instead she was lulled in warm, if wistful, contentment. Oliver had found happiness, and Grace was delighted for him. The grief had lessened as the weeks passed. She had come to accept that there could never be a future for their whirlwind romance, and from the tone of Oliver’s letter, so had he. His memory would always linger in her heart, but it was time to close the door on it – and open another.

  Nursing. She would stay at Mount Tavy as long as she was needed, and then find out where she stood financially. She had that fifty pounds that Larry had extracted from Aggie’s father, but how far would that go? Ah, Larry. He had set up that allowance to fund her as a VAD nurse, but she couldn’t expect him to help her further. She wouldn’t let him. Dear, kind, thoughtful Larry, who was as much a part of her as she was herself.

  That awful day when she had gone with Aggie to confront Mr Nonnacott kept haunting her. It came into her head now, obliterating the view over the hospital grounds. Her should
ers and neck had stung agonizingly, but the pain had eased in the safety and protection of Larry’s arms of steel. The feel of his broad, strong chest as she leant against him had comforted her aching spirit like a healing salve, and she had wanted to stay locked in his embrace forever. It was hardly the first time he had rocked her in his arms, and always she had dragged herself away with reluctance.

  Larry had always been in her life as a dear brother she had trusted and loved. What was it Aggie had said? That Larry was always hers? What had she meant? Had Aggie, of all people, seen beyond what Grace had been able to herself?

  Grace’s mind had been turning cartwheels ever since. Oliver had awakened something inside her, a woman’s passion, but had it been simmering there for years, all her life perhaps? And had she been too close to recognize it for herself? All she knew was that it was Larry and not Oliver who was constantly in her thoughts.

  She wrote to Larry every week now, exchanging news and commenting on the Allies’ massive and continuingly successful offensive. And yet there was something else in the letters Larry wrote by return, something gentle and affectionate, all friction gone. When Grace thought back, had Larry been hiding a deep hurt? Could it be that he had feelings for her? She kept remembering that on the couple of occasions she had gone back to Walkhampton since, she had greeted him with a tight, lingering hug, and had read some deep sensitivity in his eyes.

  Grace rose to her feet, shaking her head in confusion, grateful that she must go back inside since duty called.

  It was the second Monday in November, a grey, dank, miserable morning. On Sunshine Ward, life was going on as normal. Grace was teaching a newcomer who had lost his left foot how to use his crutches and had just taken him through to the great hall where there was more room to practise. Hot drinks and biscuits were being served from the tea-trolley to the other patients who were relaxing in the peaceful surroundings of the beautiful room.

  A sudden booming explosion, followed by several more, shattered the tranquil atmosphere. Chaos broke out in seconds. A couple of shell-shock patients dived for cover, others cried out and almost went into convulsions. Terrified looks were exchanged. Several mugs were dropped and smashed on the floor.

  ‘God, we’m being invaded!’

  Grace glanced swiftly around the room. The distant crashes had stopped, and she frowned in bemusement. ‘No, it’s all right!’ she called out reassuringly. ‘We can’t be! Listen, it’s stopped. And …’ She met several pairs of frightened eyes, but her own ears were straining. ‘Can anyone else hear church bells? What are they doing ringing at this hour? Unless …’

  It was a moment everyone would remember for the rest of their lives. Murmurs ricocheted within the hall walls, the air all at once palpable with unleashed expectation. Could it possibly be…? A soldier in hospital blues standing by the window pushed the lower section upwards as far as the sash-cord allowed. The peal of church bells blared into the room, interrupted almost at once by the sirens from the laundry and the town’s factory. There must have been a train at one of the stations as the distinctive whistle of a railway engine joined in the cacophony, and a dart of confused hope pierced Grace’s breast.

  She picked up the hem of her uniform and ran outside. The noise was even louder, resonating across the valley. And then, pedalling like fury up the drive, was the newspaper boy, and Grace flew down to meet him.

  ‘War’s over, Nurse!’ he shouted between breathless gasps. ‘Us heard about five minutes ago, just in time! Boche signed at five o’clock this morning, and it all stopped at eleven. The marines let off some detonations bang on the dot. Will you tell everyone? Got other places to tell, I has.’

  ‘Yes! Yes, of course!’

  Grace spun on her heel, racing back up the slope, no thought in her head. Just an eruption of pure joy bursting out of her heart. ‘It’s over!’ she screamed at the men who had spilled outside. Then she pushed past astonished, jubilant faces, shouting out the news to everyone still inside, scurrying from ward to ward, leaving a trail of exultation in her wake.

  The rest of the morning passed in a blissful haze. The clamour of voices raised in rejoicing resounded through the old house, patients and nursing staff hugging each other with tears of celebration running down their cheeks. Dr Franfield ordered the opening of some crates of beer he had recently secreted in the storeroom in anticipation of the event. And rousing choruses of It’s a long way to Tipperary, Keep the Home Fires Burning and other such songs broke out periodically. A further visit from the newspaper boy revealed that there was to be a procession through the town that evening led by the Salvation Army Band and followed by a thanksgiving service in the ancient Parish Church. Afterwards, the Royal Marine Light Infantry stationed in the town were to give a free public entertainment in the town hall.

  ‘Nurse Dannings, you couldn’t drum up an impromptu concert for tonight, could you?’ Matron asked, face aglow.

  ‘Oh, yes, why not?’ Grace grinned back.

  She dashed about the rooms, seeking out the men she knew would be willing to perform at such short notice. Who cared if it wasn’t rehearsed and polished? It would simply be an expression of relief, the overwhelming elation that filled every breast.

  It wasn’t until after she had helped serve what turned into a riotous lunch that Grace was able to take her own break. But she was too overflowing with emotion to eat. A corkscrew had clamped down inside her stomach, and she felt suffocated, gasping for air, and despite the wretched weather, she escaped outside.

  A few patients were wandering about the grounds, but she stood outside the front entrance alone, staring out through the vapour that enshrouded the valley and the town hidden in its depths. It was over. Indescribable release welled up inside her, and yet with it came a magnitude of sorrow, of jumbled bewilderment. Yes, it was over. But the world had gone mad, deranged, and could never be the same again. Her world would never be the same. Not without Stephen and Martin. All the men enjoying the raucous celebrations inside, in all the towns and villages all over the country, in France and everywhere else, none of their lives would ever return to normal. And, as she stood there among all the revelling abandonment, Grace wanted to weep until her heart was washed clean of its misery.

  She sniffed hard. Blinked back the moisture that misted her eyes. She mustn’t cry. Not among all this happiness. She bit her lip, staring sightlessly down the steep sweep of the drive. Materializing from the drizzling mist was the figure of a tall man in an overcoat limping over the stone bridge. A patient gone for a walk to clear his head. He didn’t use a stick. In fact, there was an air of purpose in his step as if he were unaware of his disability. The gait was unusual and yet oddly familiar, and Grace found herself walking towards him. As they drew nearer, she could see that the coat was unbuttoned, yet there was no flash of hospital blues beneath. A civilian, then. But … who…?

  Grace’s heartbeat quickened in her breast, and her legs began to walk faster. A quiet, calm and steady euphoria seeped through her sadness, scattering her grief to the four winds, and that tiny flame that had flickered inside her all her life suddenly flared out in a dazzling blaze of glory.

  Larry.

  She broke into a run. Her heart took wing, spiralling heavenwards. Her senses dropped away, her entire being wreathed in the enthralled rapture of seeing his beloved face. Not the fountain of enchantment of some passion that had suddenly bewitched her, but a strong, unbreakable thread that had always been there, but too close, too familiar for her to recognize. She had been blind, but now the truth came, joyously, to claim her.

  He was the one person in the entire world that she yearned for, needed, just then. And he had known.

  He was hobbling towards her in what passed as a run. But then, as she came within a dozen feet, they both instinctively came to a halt, their eyes holding each other’s gaze, nerves stretched, drenched in unspoken love and devotion. Grace saw his face, tight and intense.

  ‘You came,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ h
e answered hoarsely. ‘Stephen.’

  ‘And Martin.’

  ‘And everyone else.’

  His eyebrows swooped, his eyes troubled pools. Grace stepped into his arms, and he held her, close and unmoving, his love emptying into her until she lifted her head, offering her lips to his. He answered at once, his mouth brushing hers, soft as summer rain, and her lips parted to receive that joyous wonder she had hungered after, she knew now, all her life.

  ‘I’ve waited for this for so long,’ he murmured against her.

  She pulled back. ‘For me to grow up,’ she stated. And they both understood.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you.’

  ‘Thank God you didn’t.’ She stared up at him, head spinning as intoxication streamed through her. Watching his face twitch with anguish.

  ‘Finish your work here,’ he grated thickly. ‘However long it takes. And then come home, Grace, where you belong. Come home and marry me. And help me make wheels till I’m an old, old man. That’s if you can put up with a grumpy old peg-leg.’

  ‘Oh, Larry,’ she whispered, breathless. ‘Yes.’ And for good measure, she pulled his head down towards her, and kissed him again, long and deep, feeling her body crushed against his and wanting to melt into him forever.

  She vaulted away, dancing, uncontained, grasping his hand and pulling him up the slope towards the great house. ‘Come inside and join in the celebrations!’ she crowed. ‘I can introduce you as my fiancé!’

  Larry’s face stilled. Clouded. ‘Are you … really sure, Grace?’

  She threaded her arm through his, smiled up at him impishly. ‘Absolutely!’ she cried back.

  And as they walked, slowly now, up the driveway, linked in love and bottomless understanding, she knew that she had never been so sure of anything in her entire life.