Hasan grinned in amusement. ‘Can you imagine Furja calling into the paymaster to claim a pension? “Marriage certificate?”
“We never had one, but Harry Downe did lift me onto his horse and ride me around my father’s camp three times”.’
‘You’ve never been serious about anything in your life.’
‘I have some sovereigns in a box in the bank in Basra, but my father-in-law has more money than I or my family are likely to need for several lifetimes. Just one thing, if you do tell Charles that I live on as Hasan Mahmoud, swear him to secrecy so this happy Bedouin can carry on living his undistinguished life.’
‘Are you really happy, Harry – Hasan?’ John asked seriously.
‘I’m as happy as a man can be with these.’ Harry indicated his eye patch and the stump on his arm. ‘My twin girls, Aza and Hari, are a delight. My son, Shalan, is four months old and grows stronger every day. And,’ he raised his eyebrows, ‘as I enjoy making babies with my wife I hope for many more children.’
‘You’re living in the Karun Valley?’
‘At the moment Furja is with Shalan in his house in Baghdad. When I leave here I will return there; after that, who knows where we’ll go. The desert, Basra, Baghdad, Amara, Qurna, my father-in-law has properties in most of the towns in Iraq.’
‘Iraq?’
‘It’s what the Arabs call Mesopotamia. They’ve outgrown the Biblical name.’
‘Is Shalan’s house in Baghdad as comfortable as his house in Basra?’
‘Of course, you honeymooned there with Maud. Shalan’s house in Baghdad is larger and even more comfortable.’
‘Yet you live there under Ottoman rule.’
‘It may surprise you to know that for the ordinary people who haven’t annoyed any officials, there isn’t a great deal of difference. The British courts may be fairer in the areas under British rule but only if no bribe-taking locals are employed in them. As for food and money – both are always in short supply among the poor, whoever rules the land.’
John was afraid of what the answer might be but he had to ask the question. ‘So whose side are you on now?’
‘The side of Furja, my children, Shalan, and the tribe, and at present they fight for the British.’ Hasan took the cigarette John offered him, lifted a stick from the fire, and lit it. ‘Shalan accepted more guns from the British just before Kut fell. In exchange he promised to keep the Karun Valley clear of Turks and to look out for, as far as possible, the British POWs in Turkish hands. Securing the Karun Valley against the Turks is easy, just a question of leaving enough men in the area. The POWs are another matter.’
‘The Turks have treated all of us: ranks, sepoys, and officers abominably.’
‘I watched British officers and men being marched through the bazaar in Baghdad. I doubt many will survive to see the end of the war. But Shalan has ordered all the men in the tribe to do whatever they can to help the British and give the officers in charge of the men, money, and food.’
‘The Turks allow you to help the POWs?’
‘The Turks employ Arab auxiliaries to do their work for them. They assume all Arabs are as brutal as them. Most are. Shalan’s men are not – to the British anyway.’
‘In the bazaar – did you see anyone we knew?’
‘Crabbe, Grace, Bowditch. Did Mitkhal tell you that we can get you and your men back through the Turkish lines to Basra?’
‘He told me.’
Hasan stared balefully at John through his good eye. ‘You won’t go, will you?’
‘I won’t stop my men from going back with you if they want to risk passage through the lines …’
‘With Mitkhal as a guide there’d be very little risk.’
‘It’s out of the question for me. You said it yourself. Our men are in dire straits. They need medical care. I’m a doctor. It’s my duty …’
‘Duty!’ Hasan repeated. ‘Do you never think of yourself?’
‘All the time when I’m not needed by anyone, at the moment it happens I am. And you’re a fine one to talk, giving up your country, your family your people …’
‘My people are my wife and children. I love them and want to spend as much time as possible with them. That’s hardly the act of an unselfish person.’
John frowned. The mention of a wife had reminded him of Maud. ‘You said you left Basra after the fall of Kut.’
‘I did.’
‘Did you hear anything of Maud?’ John tried to make his question sound casual. It didn’t.
‘I wasn’t moving in British military circles.’
‘You don’t know if she’d had her child?’
‘No, but as she was heavily pregnant when I last saw her before the battle of Nasiriyeh I presume she did. You told me when I left Kut that you were divorcing her.’
‘Not easy to arrange in wartime. I’m wondering if she’s all right.’
‘You know Maud. She’ll be fine. Next time you see her she’ll probably be waltzing on a general’s arm, if not as his wife, then his mistress.’
‘I hope so, pregnancy’s rarely easy on a women and it can take its toll in this climate. Which reminds me, Sergeant Greening’s wife was pregnant and by now he should have has a son or daughter in Basra. If anyone should go back it’s him.’
‘Didn’t he marry Mrs Perry’s maid Harriet?’
‘He did.’
‘You’ll talk to your men and tell them of our offer to get them to Basra?’
John glanced at the other fire, where the laughter was growing louder and the jokes more ribald, at least the ones he could understand among the British. ‘I will, tomorrow morning when they’re sober.’
‘It’s late, old friend. Time I fetched my blanket roll. We’ll speak tomorrow.’
‘I’ll ask Greening to put up a tent for you.’
‘I like sleeping under the stars, as do the men with me.’
‘Really?’ John was sceptical. ‘With no mosquito net and the sand flies and bugs biting every inch of skin they can prise their jaws into?’
‘I’ve learned to ignore them.’
Dira left the tent. ‘Major Mason, sir?’
‘Coming, Dira.’ John rose to his feet. ‘See you in the morning, Ha … Hasan.’
Harry embraced John, kissing him on both cheeks, in the fashion of the Arabs. It was a spontaneous, natural gesture, and more evidence to suggest that Harry Downe was dead and Hasan Mahmoud lived.
John watched Harry walk away, his robes billowing around his feet, his kafieh pulled low, covering most of his face. He watched him greet the men he’d travelled with. Someone handed him a bottle of Turkish brandy, Greening a pack of cigarettes. Hasan sat on the ground alongside the men. The conversation and the laughter escalated.
John felt as though he’d just lost his cousin all over again. Harry was only a few feet away yet he was already missing him.
Sick tent, the desert between Baghdad and Turkey
July 1916
John crouched beside the child and laid his hand on her head. It was cool. He spooned more water into her mouth and she swallowed without opening her eyes.
‘The two ladies are burning with fever, sir.’
John laid his head first on one forehead then the other. ‘You’re right, Dira, but the Arabs said that they found them in the desert. Chances are they’ve been forced to walk in the heat of the day for days if not weeks. The high temperature could be the result of sunburn.’
‘And if it’s not, sir?’
‘The treatment is the same. Fetch my medical bag and the morphine, please.’
‘And if our own men need it, sir? We haven’t a large stock.’
‘We give the drugs to anyone who needs them, on a first come first served basis, Dira.’
‘Even Turks, sir?’
‘Even Turks. And I need to examine these patients; as they’ve been raped they may need stitching.’
‘I’ll get the phials and syringe, sir.’
Dira returned with the equip
ment. John opened his bag and prepared to examine the child.
‘Permission to speak, sir.’
‘When have I ever refused you permission, Dira?’ John asked.
‘Lieutenant-Colonel Downe’s orderly, sir, Mitkhal …’
‘Best to think of Lieutenant-Colonel Downe as dead, Dira. The man here is Hasan Mahmoud.’
‘Yes, sir. Mitkhal told me he was an Arab. Sorry, sir.’
‘No need to apologise, his sudden appearance has been a shock to us all.’
‘What I wanted to say, sir, is that now that our Turkish guards are all dead, Mitkhal offered to take us through the Turkish lines and back to Basra. He said that you told him you’d have no objection to any of us going with him.’
‘I wouldn’t, Dira.’
‘You’d come with us?’
‘No, Dira.’
‘Even without the guards you’re going to follow our men into Turkey, sir?’
‘They need medics, Dira.’
‘They need medical assistants and orderlies too, sir.’
‘I won’t ask you or the rest of the men to stay with me, Dira. This is your chance to return to base and from there possibly home. You must be due leave.’
‘I won’t go without you, sir, and neither will the others. We all talked about Mitkhal’s offer. You say the men need medics – they need good orderlies too.’
‘You’re the best, but I can train others in Turkey.’
‘You can try and persuade the others to go with the Arabs if you want to, sir, but I’m staying with you, so you can stop trying to talk me out of it.’
‘I will, and thank you, Dira.’ John offered his orderly his hand and Dira shook it. ‘I’m overwhelmed by your sacrifice.’
‘It’s no sacrifice to stay where you’re needed, sir.’ Dira unscrewed the cap on the water bottle, filled it, and moistened the young girl’s lips.
Two hours later John left the tent that housed the sick women. The Arabs who’d ridden in with Mitkhal had rolled themselves into their blankets and were lying around Dira’s cook fire. Sergeant Greening was standing outside the men’s tent, smoking. John joined him.
‘Can I get you anything, sir?’ Greening asked as John approached.
‘No, thank you, sergeant.’
‘The Turks had plenty of brandy and raki, the Arabs too, and theirs was better quality.’
‘You didn’t save me some?’ John asked in amusement.
Greening held up a flask. ‘I did, sir.’
‘Thank you, but you can drink it for me. The women the Arabs brought in might need medical attention in the night.’
‘They’re still alive, sir?’
‘Against the odds. I spoke to Dira earlier about Mitkhal’s offer to smuggle any of you who wanted to go, back through the Turkish and British lines to Basra.’
‘He’s staying, sir. We all are.’
‘You have a wife and by now a child in Basra, Greening.’
‘And I’m looking forward to hearing from them once the Turks put us in a prison camp and I have an address to send her.’
‘That’s insanity, Greening. If Mitkhal says he can get you through the lines he will. You’ve a chance to see your family …’
‘I won’t leave you and the others, sir. Not while I’m needed, and I dread to think what state the survivors of Kut’s garrison will be in when they reach Turkey. They’ll need medical care and fit men to look after them and begging your pardon, sir, but I’m fitter than you and the rest of the orderlies. If there’s heavy lifting to be done, including live or dead bodies, I’m your man.’
‘Is there nothing I can say to you, Greening, that will persuade you to go with Mitkhal?’
‘Nothing, sir. I’m staying with you and the rest of the boys and that’s that. Mitkhal said the Arabs will move out tomorrow to scout around. Will they take the women with them?’
‘They’re not fit to be moved, and won’t be for another few days, that’s if they survive.’
‘So what do we do, sir? Sit here and wait for the women to get better and the Turks to turn up.’
‘As we can’t be sure where the Turks were taking us, I can’t think of a better plan. Can you?’
Chapter Fourteen
David and Charles’ bungalow, Basra
July 1916
Georgiana slipped the key David had given her into the lock of the bungalow he shared with Charles. She muffled the sound of the door click with her glove and crept inside. Charles’s bearer, Chatta Ram, was slumped snoring in a chair in the hall. She stepped out of her shoes, stole past him, and tiptoed down the corridor to David’s room. She entered, closed the door quickly, and leaned against it.
David’s bearer hadn’t drawn the curtains and moonlight streamed in through the windows, silvering the mosquito net and bedsheets. David was lying on his side, his right arm under his head, his breath soft and even. His blond hair was the same hue as the moon, his features as regular and fine as a Greek god’s. Not for the first time his beauty took her breath away.
She walked over to the chair, slipped off her cloak, and undressed. Naked she went to the bed, turned back the sheet, and slipped in beside him.
David opened his eyes and stared disorientated at her. ‘Georgie?’ he mumbled groggily.
‘You were expecting someone else?’
He closed his eyes and stretched out. ‘I live in hope of beautiful women climbing into my bed, but you’ll do.’ He moved close wrapped his arm around her and pulled her back against his chest. ‘Ow! What was that for?’ he demanded when she kicked his shin with her heel.
‘For suggesting “I’ll do”.’
‘I take it back. You’re the most stupendous, gorgeous beautiful woman in the world … ow!’ he exclaimed when she kicked him again.
‘And that’s for lying.’ She turned to face him.
‘How did you get past Chatta Ram? He’s supposed to sound the alarm if someone breaks in, especially bossy female doctors. You could have walked in on a private moment between me and …’
‘And?’ she raised her eyebrows.
‘A passing siren?’
‘Even if there was one, Charles’s bearer was too tired to care.’
He kissed her. ‘What’s the time?’
‘I left the hospital at three. Must be about half past by now.’
‘The boat’s leaving the wharf for upstream at nine.’
‘Which allowing for travelling and packing time leaves us about four hours.’
‘For what?’
‘I was hoping you’d think of something.’ She returned his kiss.
‘As you’re lying naked in my bed, I can think of one way to dispel boredom.’
‘The problem with you is you’re all words and no action, and this is not a time for talking.’
She moved on top of him and soon all that could be heard in the room was their mingled breathing.
The Smythes’ bungalow, Basra
July 1916
Angela was already awake when she heard Peter knock the dressing room door. She left the bed and unlocked it. Peter stood before her, holding a pillow over his ears.
‘Do babies ever do anything except cry?’ he demanded.
‘Lots of things,’ Angela whispered, keeping her voice low lest she disturb Robin even more. ‘Sorry he woke you, darling. The nursemaid will soon have him back to sleep.’ Even as Angela spoke the baby fell silent.
‘Every time that happens I wonder if the nurse has smothered him.’
‘She knows that if she kills Robin she’ll be out of a job.’
Peter laughed. ‘I’ll remember that the next time the baby suddenly goes quiet. I’m getting a glass of water. Do you want one?’
‘Please.’ Angela snuggled back under the sheet.
Peter soon returned and handed her a glass. ‘There were a couple of pieces of ice left in the bucket, so it’s cold.’
‘Thank you. It’s been marvellous having you all to myself the last couple of weeks.’
&
nbsp; ‘Because I bring you iced water in the middle of the night?’
‘Among other things. I’m going to miss you.’
‘I’m going to miss you too. The crazy thing is going back to the front seems like returning to normality which says a lot for the way I’ve been living since this war started.’
‘I was only thinking the other day that we’ve never talked about the future, Peter,’ she said seriously.
He sat on the bed next to her. ‘I don’t mean this in a morbid way but you married a soldier against your brother’s advice, sweetheart, and just like every other soldier fighting this war I can’t guarantee I even have a future beyond this hour, and possibly not even that long. When the guns start blazing I have to go wherever my superiors order me.’
‘You have to survive this war. You simply have to,’ she reiterated fiercely as though she could keep him alive by sheer force of will.
‘I promise you I’ll do my best.’ He sat on the bed next to her.
‘And when the war finishes, what then? For us I mean, Peter.’
‘As I’m neither trained nor fit for anything else, I suppose I’ll carry on soldiering.’
‘Here?’
‘Wherever the Indian Office posts me, which in all probability will be India. Why the questions?’
‘I love you, I always want to be with you, and I thought that …’
‘What?’ he persisted when she didn’t finish her sentence.
‘I think I must have spent too much time talking to Clary. As soon as Tom discovered that he was being invalided out of the Force because of his recurring spells of fever they started making plans. Tom’s father owns an estate in the English countryside. Apparently there are several cottages on it and Tom and Clary intend to settle down in one and start a family …’
‘And live on fresh air?’ Peter interrupted. ‘Bills for food and fuel arrive even in a cottage you’re not paying rent on.’
‘Tom’s father offered Tom a doctor’s post in a clinic he owns not far from the estate, at least until he’s recovered his health.’
‘Tom is a doctor. He has a profession to fall back on. I was talking about this with Charles Reid only this morning. For regular soldiers like Charles and me there is no choice. No one wants to employ a retired soldier simply because there’s no call for warfare in the civilian world.’ He took her glass from her, set it on the bedside table, and reached for her hand. ‘Would it be so terrible to spend the rest of your life in married quarters as the wife of a serving soldier?’
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