The Promise

by Lesley Pearse

  ‘Will I do?’ she whispered to him as she reached him.

  A lump came up in his throat. She looked what she was, a high-class girl from a privileged background, and he could hardly believe she would love him.

  ‘You’re kidding! You’d do for the President himself, let alone a humble sergeant.’

  ‘I have to own up to something,’ he said later as they sat at a table by the window. The place was crowded now, and the young lad who had shown them to their room was playing an accordion. The meal was steak and frites, the steak bloody but very tender, and the wine fruity and heady.

  There were four or five other women around the room. They were well dressed, but drab compared with Miranda. She had already remarked that she believed them to be wives rather than girlfriends, as they looked very comfortable and weren’t talking to their men much.

  ‘I hope it isn’t that you have a wife already,’ Miranda said. ‘If it is, I might throw this glass of wine over you.’

  ‘Certainly not,’ he laughed. ‘It’s an embarrassing confession.’

  ‘You have an artificial leg?’ she suggested with twinkling eyes. ‘That’s fine, I can cope with that.’

  ‘I think you would’ve guessed that some time ago,’ he said. ‘No, it’s my name.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Will?’ she asked.

  ‘You think it’s short for William?’

  Miranda nodded. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No, it’s Wilbur.’

  She spluttered with laughter. ‘Wilbur?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Can you live with that?’

  ‘Well, I really don’t know. It is rather grim. Belle will have hysterics if she comes to our wedding.’

  ‘Then we’d better get married in secret. And soon too, because after tonight I’ll need to make an honest woman of you.’

  She just looked at him, her sparkling eyes saying all he needed to know. His father had once told him that when he met his mother he felt a pang in his heart, and he knew then it was true love. Will felt that same pang now; everything he wanted in life was right here in front of him.

  ‘I’d marry you tomorrow if it was possible,’ she said softly.

  As dawn broke and the first rays of light came through the edges of the curtains, Miranda leaned up on one elbow to look at Will. He had fallen asleep, one strong tanned arm over her, his face squashed into the pillow. She could hardly believe how wonderful his lovemaking had been. It had wiped out everything that had gone before, the humiliation that Frank had made her feel, the knowledge that her mother didn’t care much for her, and the sense that she wasn’t worth much.

  He had kissed every inch of her, even places that made her blush to think about, caresses of such tenderness that he’d made her cry. Lovemaking with Frank had been hot and steamy, but she knew now what had been missing; he’d never made her feel like a goddess the way Will had. There had never been such joy and sweetness, or unhurried delight in pleasing each other.

  She ran her hand lightly over his back, revelling in his smooth, silky skin and taut, muscular buttocks. Looking at his perfection, she felt a pang of fear that he might be wounded when he had to go into battle with his regiment. Daily she felt horror at all those young men maimed and disfigured, but the thought that it might happen to Will was unbearable and tears started up in her eyes just at the thought of it.

  During the night she’d voiced her anxiety for him. ‘I’ll keep safe for you,’ he’d said cheerfully, as if he felt love alone was a kind of armour. ‘I don’t believe that God would let me meet a girl like you, make me love you with all my heart, then allow me to be killed or seriously wounded.’

  He had made her believe it too, then. It surely wasn’t possible to love so much and then have it snatched away by a shell or bullet. But now, watching him sleeping, she was afraid again.

  It struck her that Belle had never voiced any such fears for Jimmy. Was that because she had convinced herself that her man was invincible? Or was she in fact terrified and felt that if she talked about her worst fears they might come true?

  ‘Why are you watching me?’ Will said sleepily, wrapping his arm around her more tightly and drawing her down to him.

  ‘Because you’re so beautiful,’ she whispered.

  It was almost eleven when they finally went downstairs, sated with love. They would have liked to spend all day sleeping in each other’s arms, but they had to vacate the room.

  There were just one couple and three French soldiers in the bar. They had seen the couple the night before, but the soldiers were different ones, enlisted men who appeared just to have come in for coffee.

  The woman owner of the hotel asked Will in French if they’d like coffee, and smiled knowingly as if she understood how their night had been spent.

  Miranda replied for them both in halting French, saying that would be very nice.

  ‘I suppose she sees people like us all the time,’ she whispered to Will. ‘In England they wouldn’t approve of such behaviour.’

  ‘Americans can be very righteous too,’ Will said. ‘You’d have to pretend to be married to be given a hotel room.’

  The woman brought them a pot of coffee and some warm croissants in a basket. As she turned away, she said something to the French soldiers which Miranda didn’t catch, but whatever it was, she was sure it was about them because the men looked over and smiled.

  ‘Do you think this is a place only the French know about?’ Miranda asked.

  ‘Possibly. It is in the French army area,’ he replied. ‘It would be too far for most English officers to get to anyway, and from what I hear not many of them have their wives coming over here to see them.’

  One of the two corporals called out to Will. He spoke too fast even for Miranda to understand. Will looked at him, puzzled.

  ‘He asked you when the Americans are going to get here and help us,’ the sergeant translated for them in perfect English.

  ‘They are on their way,’ Will said.

  The man then asked Will about where he was based and how long he thought it would be before the troops would be ready to fight.

  Will told him he was based in Calais and that he’d been told the troops would be ready in early 1918. Then he asked about Verdun and the battle of the Somme and how shocked he’d been when he heard about the enormous number of casualties, both English and French. The sergeant translated what he was saying back to his companions.

  Will had told Miranda a few nights earlier that it was difficult to learn the truth about conditions at the front and even more importantly how the French and Allied troops viewed the arrival of American soldiers. If there was hostility, it was something that needed to be overcome. Miranda realized that Will saw this chance meeting with some French soldiers as a golden opportunity to find out how they felt.

  Miranda left him to it and drank her coffee and ate a croissant, but all the time she was looking at the French sergeant, not just because he spoke such good English, or that he and Will appeared to be getting on well, discussing weaponry, the pros and cons of tanks and the use of cavalry.

  Everything about the man was fascinating, his steely blue eyes, the sharpness of his cheekbones, including an old scar that looked as if it had been inflicted with a knife. Even his hair was unique as it was a very light brown with streaks of pure blond amongst it. She would not describe him as handsome, not in Will’s polished, healthy-looking way; he looked too tough for that. But he had that élan for which French officers were noted, along with a warm laugh and excellent English, and she felt there was far more to him than in an ordinary soldier.

  ‘I’ve been remiss in not introducing myself,’ Will said. ‘Sergeant Will Fergus, and this is my fiancée, Miranda Forbes-Alton from England. Miranda is an ambulance driver at Camiers.’

  ‘You are much too beautiful for such work,’ the sergeant said gallantly, instantly making himself even more appealing to her. ‘This is Caporal Pierre Armel and Caporal Deguire, and I am Etienne Carrera. We are all enc
hanted to meet you.’

  The name Etienne jolted Miranda. For all she knew, it could be one of the most common names in France, but somehow everything Belle had ever told her about her Etienne seemed to fit with this man. She had never mentioned his surname or described what he looked like; she’d only said that he had a dark past and spoke very good English. How odd it would be if it was him!

  Will moved on to ask about the recent mutiny in the French army. He said he’d heard large numbers of men had deserted their posts and he wanted to know if it was just a baseless rumour.

  ‘Yes, it was true, though none of us three were involved,’ Etienne said. ‘But I wouldn’t blame those who were, for taking a stand. Our men were always prepared to defend their positions on the line, but it was insanity to keep sending them on assaults which meant certain death. The men involved were not deserting, whatever you may have heard. They were exhausted, badly fed and poorly equipped; they knew they were vastly outnumbered and had far fewer big guns than the Boche. They protested in the only way they could. And it worked, because at last the situation is improved, and we are getting better food and more rest.’

  This conversation went on for some time, the two corporals asking questions in French, and the sergeant translating for Will. Miranda just watched Etienne. The more she looked at him, the more she felt she had to find out if he was the man Belle had loved.

  She waited for a lull in the conversation before speaking. ‘Sergeant Carrera, are you by any chance from Marseille?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ he said, looking very surprised at her question. ‘Do you know it?’

  ‘No, but a friend of mine knew someone called Etienne from there,’ she said. ‘I just wondered if it could be you.’

  He looked guarded then, his eyes narrowing. ‘What is your friend’s name?’ he asked.

  ‘Belle Reilly.’

  He looked stunned. ‘Yes, you do have the right man. I do know Belle.’

  Will looked at Miranda in surprise. ‘Small world,’ he said.

  ‘She’s here in France,’ Miranda said. ‘She works with me at the hospital.’

  It was interesting to see how much that news affected him. He didn’t respond immediately but she could almost see his thought processes, wanting to ask questions, but also concerned by just how much she knew about him.

  ‘She is an ambulance driver too?’

  ‘Yes, we came here together. We have been friends for some time; we live in the same part of London.’

  He was leaning towards her now, clearly eager to know more, and all at once it occurred to her that Belle might not appreciate it if he turned up at the hospital.

  ‘Of course her husband is somewhere in Belgium, she thinks at Ypres,’ she said. ‘He was wounded at the Somme, fortunately not badly. Have you been wounded at all?’

  He smiled at her, his eyes softening in a way that was devastatingly attractive. ‘Only minor injuries. You can tell Belle my luck is still holding out.’

  There was something so intimate about his reply that she felt unnerved, and she suggested to Will that it was time they left. She really wished she’d thought it through before she’d asked him if he knew Belle. She’d be to blame if he did come to the hospital and put her friend in an awkward position.

  Later Miranda and Will drove to another small village and took a walk by a river before finding somewhere to have lunch.

  ‘Tell me how Belle knows the French sergeant,’ Will asked. ‘He sure looked surprised to hear she was in France.’

  Miranda wanted to tell him the whole story but she couldn’t, not without revealing a great deal about Belle’s past.

  ‘She met him when she was in Paris before the war,’ she said carefully. ‘It was long before we met and became friends.’

  ‘I’d say he must have meant something to her if she told you about him,’ Will replied. ‘And she sure meant something to him – he nearly jumped out of his seat when you said her name.’

  ‘Maybe there was something. But she went home and married Jimmy. He’d been her childhood sweetheart.’

  ‘Jimmy must be one helluva man then.’

  Miranda knew exactly what he meant. Even in that short meeting she had been aware that Etienne’s two friends and Will too were admiring of him. It wasn’t anything he’d said or done, he just had that inborn superiority that some people have. Being able to speak another language fluently was part of it, but his looks and his manner did the rest.

  ‘Jimmy is a very good man,’ Miranda said. ‘Loving, dependable, and just as charismatic in his own way. They are very happy together, and they are right for each other.’

  ‘So maybe you shouldn’t tell her you met her old friend?’ Will said.

  Miranda thought he was very perceptive. She didn’t think many men would weigh up the situation as quickly as that. ‘Yes, I think you might be right. But it will be hard to keep it to myself.’

  The other three girls were already asleep when Miranda got back at eleven that night, but Belle was sitting up in her bed reading and waiting for her.

  ‘How was it?’ she whispered, putting her book down and patting her bed for Miranda to come and sit on it.

  ‘So wonderful I don’t think I can even explain,’ Miranda said.

  ‘Well, suppose you tell me first what the place was like where you stayed?’

  ‘Old, faded but cosy, and bliss after this place. This is the real thing, Belle, every bit of me knows it, not even a tiny little sprinkle of doubt. I didn’t think I would ever be this happy.’

  ‘Did you decide when the wedding is going to be?’ She had never seen her friend look so lovely, happiness had made her beautiful, and all Belle’s previous worries about the rightness of this love affair vanished in the face of it.

  ‘We thought we’d have it here, but Will said he’ll have to ask his CO’s permission. He might refuse of course, what with all the American troops due. And I haven’t a clue about where we will live, if I should stay on here, or anything really.’

  ‘It’ll all work out, things always do,’ Belle said comfortingly. ‘Maybe you’ll have to be patient for a little longer. But that’s not such a bad thing.’

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ Miranda grinned impishly. ‘Now I’ve had my wicked way with him I’m going to want him even more, it’s going to be agonizing waiting. I shall have to get a new dress for the wedding; do you think I’ll find a dressmaker in Calais?’

  ‘I’m sure you will, but you’d better get into bed now. We heard today that there’s a great many wounded on their way. No peace for the wicked!’

  Miranda lay awake long after Belle had fallen asleep, reliving her night with Will. Just thinking about it aroused her and made her heart beat faster. To try to get to sleep she imagined the war being over and boarding a ship with Will for America. He had said his parents’ home was small, a ‘row house’, he called it, which she assumed was like a terraced house in England. But they would only be there for a while until Will got a new posting; after that they would live in married quarters.

  When Belle had come up with the plan to volunteer at the Herbert, Miranda hadn’t really wanted to do it. She was just carried away by her friend’s enthusiasm. Dozens of times she was on the point of walking out because it was such hard work and she couldn’t stand being bossed around. She only stayed, if truth were told, because she knew her mother would say, ‘I told you so.’ She came up with the idea of driving ambulances as it seemed an easier and rather more glamorous job. She could laugh at that silly idea now, as there was absolutely no glamour in it and it was even harder work.

  But now it looked as if it had been her destiny to come here and meet Will. Ahead was a new beginning in a country she’d always wanted to see. He had told her so much about it today, the struggles his parents had when they first arrived as immigrants, the crowded, tough neighbourhood they lived in when he was younger, and the beauty of the country away from the big cities.

  He said he was going to get a book abo
ut America for her, so she could form a better idea of what life was like there. Tomorrow she would start asking Belle things too. She’d never thought to ask her before.

  It was strange to think she had Frank to thank for all this. If not for the affair with him and the abortion, she’d never have got to know Belle, and her life would have been completely different. Her parents would probably have married her off by now, and she’d undoubtedly be spending her days knitting socks and scarves for soldiers, growing more like her mother every day.

  Belle was the only person she was going to miss when she began her new life. Her friendship had meant so much, all the shared secrets, the laughs and the joy of being with someone who knew all about her, but loved her just the same. And she thought that knowing Belle had made her a better person.

  It was going to be very hard to say goodbye to her.

  She glanced over at Belle’s bed. It was too dark tonight to see her, but she was making soft little snuffling noises in her sleep. Miranda wished she could tell her about meeting Etienne, but Will was right, it might disturb her serenity to know he was so close.

  Miranda smiled to herself. He was the kind of man who would disturb any woman. His steely blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and French accent were enough, but there was something more about him. Belle had said once that another friend had described him as a tiger, and Miranda thought that was an apt simile. He could be a hunter, strong, ruthless perhaps, and dangerous if you got on the wrong side of him.

  Yet there was no doubt in her mind that he had cared and still did care deeply for Belle.

  ‘Time to get up, girls,’ Sally called out at six the next morning.

  Belle groaned, rubbed her eyes and wearily pushed back the bedcovers. ‘It can’t be morning already, it seems only minutes since we went to bed,’ she said.