by Lucy Gordon
After that, everyone regarded him differently. His friends kept watchful, protective eyes on him, lest he break out again. From Shand he received awe and respect, which disgusted him.
‘Well, at least someone managed to shut the little blighter up,’ Harry Franks observed once. Harry had joined the Air Force on the same day as Mark and they had immediately become friends. ‘You should be proud of that.’
‘He’s not worth it,’ Mark snapped.
‘I agree. But he might have hit the nail on the head. Maybe you really are better off without this girl. You aren’t in love with her, are you?’
‘How the hell do I know?’ Mark roared.
Harry nodded wisely, his expression suggesting that if he’d known things were like that, he wouldn’t have asked.
Mark’s inner fury continued, all the worse because he didn’t understand it himself. Dee had broken the engagement in a way that suggested that he was really dumping her, thus preserving his dignity. So what was there to be angry about? Especially with her?
But he knew that if she were here this minute, he would explain to her exactly why she was wrong about everything, make her admit it and ask his forgiveness for misjudging him. Then he would replace the ring on her finger as a symbol of his victory. It was the only way to deal with awkward women.
‘We belong together,’ he rehearsed. ‘We’ve always known what each other was thinking, and that’s never happened to me with anyone else. I didn’t want it before. I’ve tried to keep my thoughts to myself because I didn’t trust anyone else, but with you I couldn’t do that and I didn’t mind. I even liked it. Do you realise that? You did something for me that…that…and then you abandoned me.’
No, he couldn’t say these things. They sounded pathetic, and at all costs he wasn’t going to be pathetic. But there were other ways of putting it so that she would see reason. If only she was here!
But she wasn’t, and she didn’t contact him.
He even began to jot down his thoughts, to be ready to confront her. But it was a fraught business. He slept at the base, sharing a small dormitory with five others, all ready for action at any moment in the night. It was hard to find privacy and if he heard someone coming he had to stuff his papers into a small cupboard by the bed. Once he did this so hastily that the contents of the overfull cupboard fell out and he found himself confronting a small bear in a frilly dress.
It was the one she’d given him at the fun fair, having bought it for the ludicrously expensive price of one shilling and sixpence.
Dee seemed to be there, teasing him out of the jagged darkness. ‘She’s going to keep an eye on you…and report back to me if you get up to mischief.’ Then her voice changed, became loving, as he remembered it. ‘And look after you.’
‘Are you reporting back to her now?’ he murmured. ‘I wonder what you’ll tell her.’
Then he stopped short, wondering at himself, knowing how it would have looked if any of his comrades had caught him talking to a toy.
But not her. She would have understood. Did she still talk to the Mad Bruin he’d given her? Did she still have it? He found himself hoping that she did. But of course he would never know.
The sound of the door opening made him quickly hide the bear. This was private, between Dee and himself, the one thing that still united them across the miles and the silence. In an obscure way, it was a comfort to a man who’d never admitted to himself that he needed to be comforted.
He hadn’t given the toy a name, but in his mind she became ‘Dee’. Incredibly, there was even a physical resemblance. Not that the little bear had Dee’s features, but she had her expression-wry, teasing, unconvinced, a look that could be summed up as, Oh, yeah? Which was absurd if you thought about it, but he didn’t think about it. He just appreciated it.
He began to keep his little friend with him, unwilling to leave her in the locker where she might be discovered. An inner pocket in his loose flying jacket made a useful hiding place and one day, almost forgetting she was there, he took her onto the plane with him.
It was a fierce and terrible sortie, a bombing raid on an enemy armaments factory in early 1943. Resistance was fierce, with Messerschmitts, the magnificent enemy bombers, attacking from all directions. At one point he would almost have sworn he’d reached his final moment, when the plane heading for him seemed to halt in mid-air before exploding in a ball of fire. He had a searingly precise view of the pilot’s desperate eyes before the other plane dropped out of the sky.
When he landed he sat for a moment, arms folded across his body, feeling the little bump beneath the flying jacket that told him his tiny friend was there. To think that ‘Dee’ had protected him was sheer fanciful madness, and he wasn’t a fanciful man, yet the thought persisted. She had been there, not the woman herself, but her little furry representative. It was crazy. He was a fool, a stupid, naive, delusional idiot. Yet he was also mysteriously comforted.
After that, the bear went with him on every sortie, seeing him through near-misses, escapes and the odd triumph. And it began to seem to Mark that Dee-his own true Dee, the woman who had scorned him-had nevertheless the right to know that she was influencing his life, perhaps even saving it. It was an excuse to write to her, and he badly needed an excuse.
The letter was hard. On light matters he’d always found talking easy-too easy-but now, in the depths of sincerity, he found the words eluding him. He wrote at last:
I meant to send her back to you, but she’s a nice little companion and I’d miss her. Do you still have the Mad Bruin? Do you ever look at him and think of me? I hope so. You were right to break it off. I’m a useless character and I’d be no good for you, but let him remind you of me sometimes; even if it’s only the annoying things, like how unreliable I am, no common sense, the way I make jokes about all the wrong things, don’t turn up when I’m expected, stick my nose in where it’s not wanted, never seem to understand when you want to be left alone. I’m sure you can think of plenty more.
The letter didn’t satisfy him. It didn’t even begin to convey what was in his heart, but he wasn’t even sure what that was. And, even if he had been sure, he didn’t think he could have said it. He put the paper away, to be finished later.
He did return to it several times, always remembering something else that it was vital for her to know. Days passed, then weeks, and somehow it was never sent.
He was afraid and he knew it. The man who faced down death a hundred times was afraid to contact the woman whose reply could damage him more than any Messerschmitt. Afraid! How she would laugh at that. And, after all, she had the right to know that she’d triumphed, just as she had the right to know that she was protecting him. Perhaps he could simply turn up and confront her with it, and watch her face as she learned exactly what she’d done to him. The temptation was so strong that he shut his thoughts off abruptly.
Another sortie was beginning, demanding his attention. He took off in the sunlight, headed out over the sea towards the continent. After that, things became confused. He knew his aircraft was hit and he was aware of himself mechanically piloting back to England and safety, frantically praying that he would arrive before the explosion.
He almost made it. As he came down the flames were beginning to take over. Another few seconds…just a few…just a few…
Then the air was rent by a terrible screaming that he didn’t even recognise as his own. The jaggedness converged on him from all directions, stabbing, burning, terrifying him. Hands were tearing at the plane, pulling him out. He lay on the ground, listening to the shouting around him, waiting for his life to end. It was all over now and the only thing that really hurt was that he would never see Dee again. Then the darkness engulfed him.
But, instead of swallowing him up for ever, it lifted after a while, revealing a mist, with her voice all around him. He couldn’t see her face but her words filled his heart with joy.
‘…Maybe you can hear me, somewhere deep inside you…there’s so much I want
you to understand…’
He tried to speak but he could make no sound. Her voice continued whirling through the clouds.
‘I was clumsy before. I loved you so much that I was afraid to let you know… I was so happy when you asked me to marry you… All I saw was that I could be your wife…’
My wife, he thought. You are my wife, now and always. Why can’t I tell you?
‘Come back to me… I love you with all my heart… Just let me care for you.’
Everything in him wanted to say yes, to find her, draw her close. He opened his eyes in desperate hope, straining to see her face, which must be full of the same emotion as her voice, an emotion that offered him hope for the first time in his life.
But his dream had been in vain. There was only a nurse in a professional uniform, the cap low over her forehead, her features frowning and severe. Disappointment tore him, making him say almost violently, ‘Who are you?’
At first the words made no impact on Dee. She couldn’t understand them-wouldn’t understand them and their terrible implication.
He stared at her, or perhaps through her. His eyes were empty of recognition, of feeling, of anything.
‘Who are you?’
‘I…Mark, it’s me…Dee…’
But his eyes remained blank until he closed them, murmuring, ‘Sorry, Nurse.’
She took a deep breath, telling herself that it meant nothing. She was in uniform, her hair covered by a nurse’s cap, as he hadn’t seen her before. And he was heavily sedated, not his normal self.
‘Nurse-’ he murmured.
‘Yes, I’m here.’
He gave a long tortured sigh that ended in a groan.
Mr Royce came quietly into the room. ‘He’s due for more painkiller,’ he said. ‘Will you help me administer it?’
Together they did what was necessary, which seemed to bring Mark some ease. He opened his eyes again, murmuring, ‘Thank you, Nurse.’
‘Leave him to sleep,’ Mr Royce said, ushering her out of the room.
‘He doesn’t know me,’ she said flatly when they were outside.
‘Given the condition he’s in, that’s hardly surprising, but part of his recovery will be regaining the memories of his old life and you can assist him in that as nobody else can. I’m assigning you to him full-time. Yes, I know that will be hard for you, but you must be professional about this, Nurse.’
‘Of course.’
Professional, she told herself. That was what mattered. She must forget her shame at the memory of the things she’d said, the impassioned outpouring of love, the naive way she’d hoped for some flicker of love in return, only to be met with, ‘Who are you?’
She took immediate charge of him, silencing all other thoughts but his need and her duty, but it was hard when her feelings were so involved. The first time she saw his burns she had to fight back tears. The whole of his chest was violently red and raw, and she could only guess at what he must be suffering. Her ministrations made him wince, despite being on such a heavy dose of painkiller that he never seemed more than vaguely awake. Now and then he would gaze at her as though trying to remember where he’d seen her before, but he always addressed her as ‘Nurse’.
‘Perhaps you should stay with him overnight,’ Joe told her late one evening. He’d been on a training session and they had arrived home at nearly the same moment.
‘What about you?’ she said, looking around at the bleak, echoing house. ‘I don’t like leaving you alone.’
‘I’m a big boy now, love. I can cope. And I’m not alone, not really. Your Mum’s here with me. No, don’t look like that. I’m not mad. This is the home she created, and every inch of it is what she made. If I work late in the garage, she puts her head around the door and says, “Are you coming in or are you going to be here all night?” If I’m making tea, I always fill the pot in case she wants one. I know how much she loved me, and she still does, almost as much as I love her.’
‘I always wondered about that-’ Dee said hesitantly. ‘The way your marriage came about-’
‘Oh, you mean that stuff about me making her pregnant and being forced to do the decent thing. Nah, nobody forced me. I was daft about her, but I was shy. I was even scared to kiss her in case she was offended, while as for…you know…’
‘Yes, I know,’ she said, lips twitching.
‘All right, go on, laugh at me, but it was another age. You were supposed to behave yourself in them days. But your mum knew what she wanted, and she wanted me. Lord knows why, but she did.’
‘Are you saying-?’
‘She made the running. I wouldn’t have dared.’
Dee stared, barely able to believe what she was hearing. ‘So when you and she…she was the one who…? But I don’t understand. She was always so strait-laced, saying we must be “good girls” and the way she acted when Sylvia went away with Phil-’
‘People often do that,’ Joe observed. ‘Talk one way, act another. It was Sylvia’s disappearing that she really minded, and the fact that she went off with a married man. She’d have forgiven her the other thing, because it was what she did herself. She told me later that she was determined to start a baby so that I’d have to stop dithering like a twerp and make my mind up,’ Joe said with pride. ‘She really loved me, you see.’
‘Yes, she did,’ Dee agreed.
‘And when you’ve found the right one, do what you have to. So you get on with it, girl. And don’t you worry about your mum and me. We’ll be all right here together.’
Armed with Joe’s encouragement, she began staying overnight at the hospital, sleeping in the Nurses’ Home so that she could spend as much time with Mark as possible. She fed him, changed his dressings, soothed him when he half awoke, listened to his soft moans at night.
Gradually the amount of painkiller he needed lessened, and he began to sleep more peacefully. The bandages were removed from his head, and Dee marvelled at how little he seemed to have changed. The burns on his body were terrible, but his face was undamaged. To the outside world he would seem the same handsome young man he had always been, a little older, a little more weather-beaten, but basically the same. Yet this was an illusion. The damage might be hidden, but it was there.
She checked his pulse, wondering if he would awaken soon, and would he still ask who she was? Would she be nothing but the nurse who cared for him, without individuality, no different from any other? Would he even recognise her as that?
He stirred and she laid his hand down on the sheet, waiting until at last he opened his eyes, looking straight into hers.
‘Hello,’ he whispered.
‘Hello.’ She sat beside him, smiling and trying to seem cheerful.
‘Where am I?’
She gave him the name of the hospital, wondering if he would recognise it as the one where she worked, but he said nothing. ‘You’ve been here nearly a week,’ she added.
‘What happened to me?’
‘You crashed. I’m afraid you’re badly burned. Are you in pain now?’
‘No, I just feel dizzy. I don’t know anything.’ He gazed at her intently. ‘You’ve been looking after me, haven’t you?’
‘You remember that?’
‘I know I’ve seen you somewhere before. You’re Nurse-?’
‘Nurse Parsons,’ she said.
‘Oh, yes-you were always there-and someone else-I’m trying to remember-did anyone come to visit me while I was unconscious?’
‘Your commanding officer came, and a couple of your comrades looked in. I couldn’t let them stay long. They just wanted to see for themselves that you’re alive.’
‘Nobody else?’ he whispered, and she wondered if she only imagined that his voice was full of hope.
‘Nobody else. Was there someone else you wanted to see? Can I find them for you?’
He sighed softly. ‘Thanks, but no. She wouldn’t want you to.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Dee said quickly. ‘If she’s a good friend, who cares what h
appens to you-’
‘A good friend,’ he echoed with a wry smile. ‘She was the best friend I had, but I didn’t know it.’
‘But if you know it now, perhaps she’d like to hear you say so.’
‘I doubt it. Where she was concerned, I talked too much and said all the wrong things-did all the wrong things, too. She was glad to be rid of me.’
‘You can’t be sure of that.’
‘I can. She despised me. She made that very clear.’
‘She probably didn’t mean it that way.’
‘When a woman tells a man to go and jump in the lake, there’s no doubt what she means.’
‘She actually used those words?’
‘Words that meant the same. She dressed it up, practically made it sound as though I was the one breaking it off, but that was just her way of smoothing things. The truth is, she despised me.’ He gave a sigh. ‘And she may have been right.’
‘No, she didn’t despise you.’
‘You can’t know that.’
Then inspiration came to her. Turning the lights out so that there was only the one small bedside lamp, she returned to sit beside him, turning so that her face was in shadow. Perhaps now she looked no more than a shadowy presence, and that might be the trigger.
‘But I do know that,’ she said.
He stared at her, startled. ‘What do you know?’
‘Everything she knows. You’ll understand soon, when the drugs wear off.’
‘Dee? Is that really you? I think…I’m beginning to understand now. Put the light on.’
She shook her head. ‘Better not.’ She didn’t want him to see how shaken she was, eyes brimming in relief, that he had finally recognized her again.
‘You’re right,’ he said after a moment. ‘It’s strange how I know you now that I can’t see you properly.’