by Rosie Clarke
‘I shall drive down this weekend. If the doctors will release him, I shall bring Jon back with me.’
‘Do you think that’s wise? Wouldn’t it be better to let Jon get used to the idea first? He has been away from you for a long time. He will need to adjust – and so will you. If he needs to be in the country …’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps that’s best for now, my dear?’
‘I don’t know.’ Now that the waiting was finally over, I felt choked with emotion. ‘I’m not sure about anything, Margaret. I just know I can’t desert Jon.’
‘Visit him this weekend,’ Margaret suggested gently. ‘Telephone the hospital and let them know you’re coming. I’m sure they’ve asked you to do that so that Jon will expect you. You must realize that he has been through a terrible time, Emma. You can’t understand how he feels until you’ve seen and spoken to him.’
‘You’re so wise, and so good to me,’ I said, and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you for being my friend, Margaret. I don’t know what I would have done without you recently.’
She smiled and touched my hand. ‘I’m so fond of you, dearest Emma. Do you want anyone to come to the hospital with you, or would you prefer to go alone?’
‘This is something I have to do for myself,’ I said. ‘I have to face this, Margaret. I want to bring Jon home, but I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to cope with all that entails.’
‘That is something I have never doubted,’ she said. ‘I’m not certain this is the wisest thing for you or Jon – but I know that once you have set your mind to something you will do it.’
I smiled at her and put the letter back into its envelope, but my heart was heavy. I had faced up to life more than once, fought it and won, but I had never felt so afraid as I did now.
I telephoned the hospital that morning and made an appointment.
‘You are aware that your husband has facial burns, Mrs Reece?’ the Sister asked.
‘Yes, I have been told.’
‘Sometimes people find it too much for them. If you think you might not be able to bear the shock, it might be best if you waited for a while. We may be able to help your husband in time.’
I felt a little irritated by her manner. She was trying to stop me visiting Jon, but I was determined not to be put off.
‘I’m coming down on Sunday. I need to see Jon, to talk to him. I think he needs to see me. He needs to know that I want him to come home as soon as possible.’
‘Doctor Richards will speak to you about that on Sunday, Mrs Reece. It would be best if you did not say too much about that to Jon for the moment. Let him know you want him home, by all means, but don’t make it all important.’
The Sister’s tone was not encouraging. She had been quite severe in her warning. Obviously, she did not want her patient upset.
I felt like weeping but knew I must not give way to my emotions. Now or in the future.
Jane came to the house that evening. She looked oddly subdued as Mrs Rowan showed her into the sitting room.
‘I’ve come to tell you we’re leaving this weekend,’ she said, ‘and to apologize for the way I’ve behaved. Robert thinks you’re wonderful to contemplate bringing your husband home. He told me what Jon’s injuries are likely to be …’ She drew a shaky breath. ‘I think you’re very brave, Emma. I couldn’t do what you’re doing, but I sort of understand.’
‘I’m glad you came,’ I said and smiled at her. ‘It would have upset me if our friendship had ended for good.’
‘I would be an idiot to do that,’ she said, and I saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. ‘I’m going to miss you, Emma – I have missed you since I was so awful to you. Rob made me come. He knew I was miserable. He said I should grovel if I have to, because friends like you don’t come along that often.’
‘You don’t have to grovel,’ I said. ‘Sit down and have a drink. You can give me your address in America, Jane. We’ll both write as often as we can – and perhaps one day we can visit each other.’
‘Yes, I’d like that,’ she said. She gave a strangled laugh and we hugged each other. ‘Forgive me?’
‘Of course. Don’t desert me, Jane. I need you.’
‘Poor darling, Emma,’ she said. ‘The odd thing is, I need you just as much.’
I was apprehensive as I parked my car and walked towards the front entrance at the hospital. It seemed a decent enough place, with pleasant gardens. I supposed if one had to be in hospital for a long time, this was probably as good a place as any.
Sister Jones had told me to ask for her before I attempted to see my husband. I did so, and was shown into her office at once. She had obviously been waiting for me.
‘Come in, Mrs Reece,’ she invited. ‘Do please sit down.’
Her gaze went over me. I had dressed simply in a pale blue dress with a pleated skirt and elbow length sleeves. She nodded, a grudging approval in her eyes.
‘You’ve dressed very sensibly, Mrs Reece. Sometimes it upsets the men if their wives look too smart. That dress is just right.’
I ignored her comments on my appearance. ‘How is Jon today? Does he know I’m coming?’
‘As well as can be expected – and yes, he does know. He has mixed emotions about that, Mrs Reece. Naturally he wants to see you, but he is also frightened because of the way he is now.’
‘You said the doctors may be able to help. Does that mean Jon will have to stay here for a long time?’
‘He will need to have several operations. Doctor Richards will explain what that entails after you have seen your husband – if you are still concerned.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You are an intelligent woman, Mrs Reece. I don’t have to tell you that many difficulties lie ahead. Jon is in almost constant pain. He has one hand that is never going to be of much use to him, and his chest is weak. He may never work again, or be able to do very much at all.’
‘He doesn’t need to,’ I said. ‘I have my own business. I earn sufficient money to take care of Jon. I already have a retired hospital Sister on my staff, and good friends. I can take care of my husband, Sister. All I want to know is when I can have him home.’
‘The answer to that is not yet. It will be several months at least. If you are prepared to visit often, it will help Jon recover. He’s going to need all his strength and yours if he is to survive.’
‘Thank you for being frank with me, Sister.’
‘You may feel I have been unnecessarily cruel,’ she said. ‘But my concern is for Jon at the moment. He is my patient. You have a choice, Mrs Reece. He doesn’t.’
‘I understand that.’ I raised my eyes to hers. ‘Do you think I could see him now?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She smiled as if I had passed some test, and stood up. ‘Please follow me. Jon shares a room with two other patients, both of whom have similar injuries. We think it best the men shouldn’t be alone – but they have both been taken elsewhere for treatment this afternoon. I shall let you go in by yourself, Mrs Reece. I don’t often do that, but in your case I am willing to trust you.’
I realized she was paying me a compliment, but did not smile. I had answered her questions calmly enough, but my heart was beating wildly. Whatever happened in the next few minutes, I must not show disgust or horror. Jon would know if I felt revulsion, and it would destroy him. I had prepared myself for the mutilations he had suffered through several months, and I believed I could cope. I was praying for the strength to accept whatever I must.
‘Here we are then,’ Sister Jones said, stopping outside a door. ‘Go in, Mrs Reece – and good luck.’
I paused, took a deep breath and went in.
Somehow Jon must have sensed I was near. He was standing by the window, his back to me as he gazed out at the garden, and I could see the tension in every line of his body.
‘Hello, Jon,’ I said softly.
‘It’s peaceful here,’ he said, without looking round. ‘But the abbey in France was really beautiful. I wanted to stay there for ever, b
ut then I remembered …’
He turned to face me and for one terrible moment I could scarcely breathe. The left side of Jon’s face was puckered and scarred, his eyelid bare of lashes, and his left hand was twisted, the fingers turned inwards like claws. I thought it was a wonder he had survived such injuries, then I lifted my gaze to look into his eyes and I saw he was Jon – the man I had loved. Still loved as the dearest of friends.
‘Can you bear it, Emma? They say they can make me look a bit better if I’m prepared to go through the operations.’
‘Jon my dearest …’ I moved towards him as the love and pity swelled inside me, and I could hardly see his face for my tears. But they were not tears of despair or horror, and he knew it. ‘All I want to know is when I can take you home.’
I went to put my arms around him. He was painfully thin, and as I laid my head against his shoulder, I could hear his harsh breathing, and I knew he was still very ill.
‘Oh, Emma,’ Jon whispered as his arms closed about me. ‘All the time my memory was lost I knew there was someone waiting for me. I didn’t know her name or anything about her, but sometimes I could see her face. I knew she loved me, wanted me to come home. Just having that belief to cling on to helped me to keep going.’
I gazed up at him. Half of his face was just as it always had been. Perhaps with skill and care they could somehow make the scars less ugly, and if not – I could bear it.
It wouldn’t be easy for him. I knew that at once. Not everyone would be able to accept Jon’s face as it was now, or as it would be when the surgeons had done what they could for him, because I knew he would always be disfigured. They might make the scars less obvious, but they would always be there.
‘You’re going to come home, dearest,’ I said, my throat tight with emotion. ‘It won’t be for a while – perhaps months or years even – but it will happen. I promise you.’
‘I love you, Emma,’ he said in a muffled voice against my hair, and I felt him tremble. ‘I love you so much …’
‘You look exhausted,’ Margaret said, her gaze going over me anxiously when we met the next morning. ‘Was it very bad, Emma?’
‘The drive was tiring,’ I replied. ‘I think I ought to stay overnight next time – but the rest of it wasn’t bad at all. No, really, I mean it. I had been afraid that Jon might have changed, might have become a stranger, but he’s just the same.’
‘Just the same, Emma?’
‘The scars are bad,’ I admitted. ‘His hair has gone grey at the temples; he looks so much older, and he is very ill, Margaret – but he’s still the man I married. I’m not sure how to explain. It seemed to me as we talked that the man who had lived through all those terrible things was someone else. Jon was detached from all that, as if he had somehow used his loss of memory to protect his inner self. Now he has allowed that self to come back.’ I wrinkled my forehead. ‘Does that make any kind of sense to you?’
She was thoughtful for a few moments, then she nodded. ‘Yes, I can see what you mean. You believe Jon was too sensitive to face what happened to him after he escaped the crash, so his mind somehow blocked out everything he held dear rather than defile the memories of happier times.’
‘Yes, something like that. Now he has recovered his memory, and is trying to come to terms with his injuries. I think he will block out what happened in France as much as he can.’
‘You mean he doesn’t want to face reality?’
‘I’m not really sure what I mean,’ I admitted. ‘He spoke several times of the abbey and the kindness of the nuns. They allowed him to potter in their garden once he was well enough to leave his bed. He was happy there. If he had not remembered who he was, I think he would have been content to spend his life there.’
‘And now?’ Margaret asked. ‘What does Jon want now?’
‘I don’t know. We spoke of his coming home, but that can’t be for months, perhaps more than a year. His doctor told me that he will need a series of operations. He said that I must be prepared to wait for a long time. Jon has other problems besides the scars. His lungs were damaged, as were other parts of his body. He needs a lot of specialized treatment.’
‘It’s going to be hard for you, Emma.’
‘But much harder for Jon. He has already been through so much, and the operations will be difficult and painful. He could not be expected to go through all that alone.’
‘No, of course not.’ Margaret looked upset. ‘It’s so sad, my dear – for you both.’
I knew what she was thinking. I was still only twenty-five years old. Young enough to want so much of life, and I would be tied to a husband who would always be an invalid – a man who would probably never be able to be a proper husband to me again.
Doctor Richards had told me of Jon’s other wounds, things I would never speak of to anyone else. Not Margaret or even my mother. I was not even sure that Jon realized the extent of his own injuries as yet.
‘It will be a miracle if he lives more than a few years,’ his doctor had told me. ‘He has got this far on sheer stubbornness, Mrs Reece. He may believe his impotence is due to his present weakness, but there is internal damage. Whoever patched him up after he was wounded took the metal shards out of his flesh but he was badly torn in his groin and the surgery was just not good enough.’
‘You mean he may never be able to make love to me?’
‘Your husband will never give you a child – as for the rest …’ He frowned, looking slightly awkward. ‘There are ways of achieving physical pleasure without a sustained erection.’
‘Yes, of course.’ I met his eyes unflinchingly. ‘Does Jon know?’
‘We have not thought it necessary to tell him. The body sometimes mends itself. Besides, he has enough to cope with for the moment, don’t you agree?’
‘More than enough.’
I believed that Jon would feel his inability to make love deeply. It was his memory of our precious time together that was giving him the courage to go through with the painful operations he was facing in the coming months.
I knew he was doing it for my sake. Would he put himself through all that pain if he knew the truth?
The terrible thing was, that it made no difference either way. I loved Jon, but I was not in love with him. Even if he had never suffered those burns, I could never have felt the pleasure I had known with Jack in my husband’s arms.
I felt guilty and ashamed of what I had let happen, and yet I could not regret one moment I had spent with Jack.
A note was delivered by special messenger the next morning. It was from Jane and written on the day of her departure for America.
Dearest Emma. I have heard from Jack. He’s quite well and expects to be in London by next month at the latest. I thought you should know. I haven’t time for more now. Love, Jane.
I stared at the letter for ages. Why had Jane thought it necessary to warn me? Unless she had sensed that Jack was very angry, which I already knew. The absence of a single letter to me spoke clearly of his anger at my refusal to leave my husband. He had warned me once that he did not give up what belonged to him – and he did think of me as his own.
I believed that our meeting would be stormy. Jack had held back from me all this time. He was angry. He would be even more so when he discovered he could not change my mind.
In the past, Jack had always been so good to me, but I knew that he had a temper when roused. I was not looking forward to facing his anger, but nothing he could do or say would persuade me to leave my husband and go away with him.
‘General Harvey is here,’ Mrs Rowan said, looking uncomfortable. It was a week later and early evening. ‘He asked to see you, Mrs Reece. Shall I show him in?’
I glanced at Margaret as she started to gather her things. ‘No, don’t go. There’s no reason why you should leave.’
‘I think I must,’ she said. ‘Jack will want to speak to you in private, Emma. You owe him that much, my dear.’
‘Yes, of course.’
&nb
sp; I had panicked for a moment, but I knew she was right. As she left the room I rose to my feet, my heart racing wildly.
Jack was in the hall. I heard him speak to Margaret, and the sound of his voice made goose bumps all over my body. My throat felt as if it were closing. The moment I had dreaded for so long was here. I was terrified, close to tears.
‘Emma …’ Jack smiled at me and my heart caught. ‘You look lovely as always. I’m sorry to barge in like this. I should have let you know I was back, but I was angry with you – and afraid you would refuse to see me if you knew I was coming tonight.’
‘I knew you were angry. You didn’t write …’
I was trembling, and I felt the colour draining from my face as the coldness settled inside me.
‘There wasn’t much to say.’ His gaze narrowed. For a moment I saw the anger, then it was banished, controlled. This man was not the Jack Harvey who had pursued me for months, laughing at my refusals, determined to win me. ‘You haven’t changed your mind I suppose? You are still determined to bring Jon home?’
‘When he is able to leave hospital,’ I said. ‘That won’t be for months, of course. He needs several operations.’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve seen him, and I’ve spoken to his doctors.’
‘You’ve seen Jon? Why?’ I stared at him, my heart jerking. ‘Why did you go there, Jack?’
‘Don’t worry.’ Jack’s eyes glittered. ‘He doesn’t know about us. I don’t use those tactics, Emma, not against a man who can’t fight back. I want you to leave him, you know that – but I won’t force you. Either you come of your own free will or you don’t.’
I had been expecting anger, persuasion – but I was unprepared for this calm reasoning. He was forcing me to choose – him or Jon, giving me no chance for excuses. I had to be brave enough to make that choice, and from somewhere inside me I found the strength.
‘I can’t abandon him, Jack. I am his only hope of having some sort of a life outside hospital.’
‘Yes, I suppose you are – but what about us, Emma? You’re not in love with Jon. You never were – were you?’
‘No, I never was. I married him because he loved me so much, and I cared for him in a way – as a dear friend. I didn’t realize it then, though I should have done.’