More important tasks, such as repairing the barbed wire, or the trench itself, or bringing in rations, must also be done under cover of darkness. And even that was not without danger. The enemy would still be watching for any sign of movement, and surprise attacks at dusk were not unknown.
Today, the two girls managed to eat a good breakfast before the barrage started. The battle was fast and furious and as casualties fell, Livia, Mercy and the rest went into action.
The VADs never considered the danger to themselves. Livia drove the ambulance hour after hour to and from the front, without ever pausing for rest and refreshment. She no longer asked herself if she was tired or hungry, she just did what had to be done without a second thought.
Mercy would often work side by side with the doctor, running back and forth across an open field, dodging sniper fire to help carry the wounded as the ambulances arrived. For all it was a hospital station it was often shelled. But if the Tommies had the courage to face the enemy at the front, then what right had they to complain?
Today, however, Mercy was on the ambulance run with Livia, collecting casualties.
‘Let’s hope this is the last batch for today,’ Livia remarked as she wearily climbed into her ambulance for the fourth or fifth time that morning.
‘I’ve managed to purloin us a sandwich each.’
Livia took it gratefully, the breakfast they’d eaten at six seeming a lifetime ago. ‘Oh, goody, bully beef. What a treat!’
Mercy laughed, since there was rarely any alternative.
They set out across No Man’s Land, happily chewing on their snatched lunch when everything suddenly seemed to freeze.
For several long moments, although it was probably no more than a matter of seconds, Livia found herself studying the perfect formation of a leaf. Foolishly, she was wondering what it was doing inside the ambulance, until it slowly dawned on her that she was no longer in the vehicle but lying on the ground on her back.
Had there been an explosion? Had she crashed the ambulance? Livia couldn’t recall. Something had slammed into her like hitting a wall, and now for some reason she couldn’t get up.
‘Thank God, you’re alive. Can you move?’
Mercy’s elfin face emerged through a haze of pain. Livia shook her head, then winced as a fresh jolt of agony shot through her.
‘Don’t even try. I think you’ve broken a leg. Your shin bone is fractured. Hold still.’
‘What happened? Where’s the ambulance?’
‘Over there, on its back like you. Either we hit a shell or one was dropped on us, it hardly matters which. We’re in the middle of No Man’s Land, fairly exposed, a mile or more from the station and still under sniper fire, so do try to keep your head down, love.’
As Mercy talked she was binding what looked like a huge hole in Livia’s leg out of which something very nasty seemed to be protruding. ‘We don’t have any splints left so I’m going to strap it to your good leg. Don’t even think of moving that either.’
Livia forced herself to breathe slowly and calmly as the job was done, the pain hitting her in great throbbing waves.
‘Right, now we have to get you somewhere safe. I’m going to drag you under that tree. It’s the only cover there is. It won’t be pleasant moving you. Are you up for it?’
Livia didn’t even attempt to speak, she just gritted her teeth and nodded.
It felt as if her leg were being yanked off every time her heel bumped on the ground. Mercy dragged her some fifty yards then propped her against the tree. Livia lay there gasping, breathless with the pain for some minutes. But she could see Mercy still wasn’t happy. ‘Is it bad?’
‘You’re still bleeding. I don’t think you’ve severed an artery, so no need for a tourniquet, but it doesn’t look good. There may well be shards of metal in there, and I can’t carry you in this condition. We need a stretcher. We’ll just have to sit tight till somebody finds us.’
As the day wore on, the cold intensified and Livia began to shiver. Mercy took off her own coat and draped it over the pair of them, wrapping her arms about Livia and using her own body to keep her sister warm. Time ticked slowly by, the sound of sporadic gunfire worryingly loud. How near was the enemy, and who would discover them first? A VAD ambulance or the Germans?
They waited and waited till quite late in the afternoon but nobody came. The temperature had fallen to below freezing and Livia was beginning to feel light-headed, deeply aware of Mercy’s increasing anxiety as she constantly checked the wound. She knew it hadn’t stopped bleeding as she could feel a sticky wetness spreading beneath her.
‘We can’t wait any longer. I’m going to fetch help.’
‘No, don’t risk it, Mercy. The enemy could be lurking out there in No Man’s Land. Our lot will come eventually. They can’t have forgotten us.’
‘If the VADs have finished collecting the wounded for the day they might well be too busy to even notice we’re missing for some time. Even if they do, they won’t rush out to find us in the dark, not until the seriously injured patients have been stabilised first anyway. The trouble is, you could be joining their number if I don’t get help soon.’
‘It’s too dangerous. Let’s just wait. I’ll be fine,’ Livia protested, striving to instil some strength into her weakening voice. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you.’
But Mercy wasn’t listening. She removed her apron, and, bundling it up for a pillow, made Livia as comfortable as possible as she lay half propped against the tree. Tucking her own coat over her she then used her muffler to wrap around Livia’s legs and feet. Livia absolutely refused to accept her mittens as well.
‘You must keep your hands warm, at least, or you’ll freeze. I shall be right as rain, trussed up here like an Egyptian mummy.’
The joke didn’t raise a smile from either girl. Mercy said, ‘I won’t be long. I wish I’d gone sooner, but at least the firing has stopped. Now be a good girl and don’t move.’
‘Not a muscle,’ Livia quietly replied, knowing she was too weak to even try. It seemed to take all her strength just to keep her eyes open. They felt strangely heavy, and her whole body languid.
‘I’ll be as quick as I can, I promise.’
‘Take care,’ Livia begged. ‘There might still be snipers out there.’
‘I’ll make sure I keep a lookout. You’re the one who needs to take care.’ Then Mercy put her arms about Livia and kissed her cheek. ‘I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with, and we’ve had our differences, you and I, but you’ve proved to be the best friend a girl could have. And the best of sisters.’
Livia’s throat closed, choked with emotion, blocked by a sudden rush of tears, but before she could find her voice Mercy put down her head and ran pell-mell across No Man’s Land and disappeared into the darkness.
The cold was brutal. Livia drifted in and out of sleep, snippets of her life merging in her mind, becoming jumbled and confused. She dreamt she was back in the store selling prettily ribboned petticoats to fussy customers, learning all about retailing from dear Mrs Dee. Next she was in the dining hall eating mutton stew, then on hunger strike in prison. The shop girls were laughing at her, putting soggy sago pudding in her bed, or singing to her outside the prison. She was arguing fiercely with Matthew in his office, then loving him as the boat swayed gently beneath them. But the dream turned to a nightmare when she was back in that attic room and her father’s face was leering at her like a gargoyle, her beloved Maggie hanging from the banister rail.
It was the horror of that shocking image that woke her. Livia blinked into the darkness, coming to with a start and finding herself in a living nightmare of a different sort. She at once started to worry about Mercy. How long was it since she’d left? Not long, surely? She tried to work it out logically, if only as a means of keeping herself awake.
It would take her an hour, maybe two, to get back to the station, assuming she didn’t have to make any detours. The enemy regularly patrolled No Man’s Lan
d at dusk and Mercy may well have had to lie low and take cover for a while. Would she have reached the road by now? She might try to avoid that, knowing she could easily meet a convoy of enemy vehicles. It was full dark now, so it must be – what? – midnight, or the early hours of the morning? Surely rescue must come soon. Livia realised that even if it did, they’d be hard put to find her in this total blackness.
She really must try and stay awake, so that if – when – she heard a vehicle coming, she could call out. Should she crawl out into the open, try to make herself more visible?
Livia struggled to pull herself up into a straighter sitting position, but the slightest movement brought searing pain, causing her to cry out. She managed to take a sip of water but the effort of moving, and the bitter cold, exhausted her, and she slumped down again. There was no chance of her crawling anywhere. She must be growing crazy and confused even to consider it. Livia knew she had no choice but to lie perfectly still, and wait. For what? Rescue or death? It could be either.
The need to sleep dragged at her, pulling her down again into that morass of memories and confused images. She really mustn’t give in to it. It was imperative that she keep fighting, as she had when in prison. Didn’t she have steel in her soul? She must remember that.
Livia gritted her teeth against the pain and started to sing ‘Pack Up Your Troubles’, her voice weak and trembling. When she ran out of words she could remember, or the pain threatened to overwhelm her, she would valiantly start up another song, and another after that. ‘Greensleeves’ or ‘Old King Cole’, it really didn’t matter. She passed the time by singing every song and reciting every poem she’d ever learnt as a girl. She even talked to Maggie in her head, but that only brought tears to her eyes, so she was obliged to stop.
The long night passed with aching slowness. Dawn came and the hours continued to drift by, empty and silent save for the distant sound of the artillery bombardment. Livia was relieved to find that the bleeding had stopped at last, probably frozen with the cold, as was she. Another Christmas was almost upon them. Would this war be over by then? If it ever did end, and if she was fortunate enough to survive, what would happen to her then?
She thought about Jack, her husband, lying injured in a French hospital somewhere. They’d been crazy about each other once, but Livia had to admit that she’d never felt for Jack the love she now had for Matthew. Jack had been there when she’d needed someone, following all that trauma with her father. She’d thought him brave and a glorious rebel, exactly what she’d needed at the time. But maybe she should have listened to her instincts and never married him. If she hadn’t found herself carrying his child, she might not have given in to his persuasion.
Livia sighed and a warm tear rolled down her frozen cheek, which she quickly brushed away.
Yet had he ever loved her as he should? Wanting a wife and needing to be part of a family wasn’t the same thing as loving Livia and wanting only her and no other.
Jack and Mercy had always been close, of course. Had there been other women? she wondered. No doubt if circumstances had been different, if fate had not intervened, they would have been together from the start. Was there any hope of them sorting out this muddle? Could Mercy be with Jack, and could she be with Matthew at last, maybe work with him at the store? Would any of them ever find the happiness they craved?
Dearest Mercy seemed to have cured her devils at last. She’d found her forte out here in France by caring for the sick. Perhaps she should train to be a nurse when the war was over. This experience would surely win her a place in any hospital. Beneath all that perverse obstinacy she was full of compassion.
A second night passed, and Livia’s mood grew more mellow as hope gradually faded. Strangely, she no longer feared death or thought about the future as a blessed acceptance crept over her.
Nothing lasted for ever – not love, not life. Could she have saved Maggie? Could she have helped Mercy with her demons? She could certainly have been a better wife to dear Jack.
When sleep finally overtook her she welcomed it, fighting it no more, for it spared her the effort of finding a solution to her troubles.
Livia was woken by a bright light, and a man’s voice. ‘I think we have a live one here. Fetch the stretcher quick.’
It felt as if lead weights were holding her eyelids down yet Livia fought against the pressure and dragged them open. ‘I’m alive,’ she croaked, trying to see the face that swam into her blurred vision.
‘Good for you, love. Hang on to that thought, and keep talking. We’ll have you out of here in a jiffy.’
Livia’s first thought as they settled her in a bed back at base was for Mercy. ‘Where’s my sister? Can I see Mercy, please?’
‘Time enough for that later,’ Sister Pretty gently chided. ‘We have to get that leg put right first. You’re going to need it setting, and there’s probably shrapnel needs taking out. The doctor’s on his way, so just you lie still, there’s a good girl.’ She sounded almost human and far more compassionate than usual. Livia almost smiled. Had Mercy exercised some sort of charm over Sister that she was suddenly being so nice?
The pain was all-compassing and darkness closed in once again. Livia didn’t fight sleep this time. In a way she welcomed it.
When she came to again it was morning, the winter sun bright and almost warm on her face. Someone had strapped up her leg and encased it in plaster-of-Paris. It still throbbed and ached but was much less painful than before.
‘Sister,’ she croaked, desperate for a drink of water.
‘Ah, there you are, back with us at last. Excellent.’ Guessing her patient’s need, Sister Pretty put the feeding cup to Livia’s dry mouth. ‘Only a sip or two, mind, we don’t want you being sick, now, do we? That’s a good girl, lie back and rest. Later, we’ll see if we can tempt you to a mug of soup.’
‘Can I see Mercy, please?’
Sister Pretty grasped her hand and gave it a little squeeze. She thought she’d grown hardened to being the bearer of bad news, but knowing how close these two girls were, she felt an unwelcome tug at her heart. Maybe you never did get used to it. ‘I’m sorry, Livia, Mercy didn’t make it.’
Livia stared into the older woman’s eyes in stunned disbelief. ‘What do you mean – didn’t make it?’
‘We found her in a crater, not far from base. Another hundred yards and … Anyway, she wouldn’t have felt a thing, I’m quite sure. It was finding her that made the men look for you. I’m sorry we didn’t realise you were missing sooner, but in the confusion and an unusually bad tide of casualties, we assumed you and Mercy were going about your business as usual. She obviously took great care of you before she went for help. She died a hero, and undoubtedly saved your life.’
Livia felt numb, as if Sister’s voice was coming from a great distance, talking to someone other than herself about something which really didn’t concern her at all. She half glanced at the door, praying for her rebellious sister to come breezing in, bristling with energy and confidence, and ready for action as always, but it remained obstinately shut, the room silent, echoing with her absence.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
1918
Livia sat in her chair by the window watching the sun come up behind Kendal Castle. It was barely dawn but she liked to rise early to quietly sit here and think, and remember.
Sometimes she could picture Mercy’s face as clear as day: pale and skinny, almost elf-like, and so fragile. She never had put any meat on her frail bones after all those early years of poverty. Yet those brilliant turquoise eyes could light up a room, be filled with teasing mischief, achingly vulnerable, or sparring for a fight, depending on her mood. Livia’s own eyes filled with tears now as she recollected their many battles. It had been almost two years but still she grieved for this troubled sister of hers. The poor girl had been so confused, so caught up in some misguided need for revenge that she’d been quite unable to show the warmth and affection she undoubtedly felt inside for this new family of
hers. She’d longed to be a part of it, to belong, and accept their love, but somehow had not felt able to do so. Too perverse, too stuck in the past, or too filled with a bitterness she’d found hard to quell. It seemed so cruel that just as they’d got things right between them, she should be snatched away, and in such a tragic manner.
Livia knew herself to be equally flawed, if in a different way. Her striving for independence, for freedom, and her stubborn fight for equality as if all men were the enemy and not just her father, had brought pain and misery upon them all. She’d made many mistakes, if for the best of reasons: out of loyalty and the needs of her unborn child, and perhaps naivety, believing she was the one best suited to protect her precious sisters from all ills.
But where was the point in constantly looking back and upbraiding herself? What was done was done, and couldn’t be changed.
Livia had spent months in hospital following her injury, recuperating and learning to walk again. A long, painful business. Since then she’d been doing what she should have done all along, being a good wife, trying to right her wrongs by caring for a sick husband. Jack’s injuries hadn’t, after all, been life threatening but his war, like Livia’s, had ended the day he was struck by the shell. Livia had suffered only a broken leg which, eventually, had mended. Jack had lost his right arm.
For a long time he’d been able to do very little for himself, and the months she’d spent caring for him hadn’t been easy; his irascible temper and constant craving for drink alternating with an uncontrollable grief over losing Mercy. There had been times when Livia had felt quite unable to cope, as if she were going mad and could take no more. But she’d nursed him without complaint, and gradually he’d recovered, had even vowed to foreswear alcohol forever.
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