The Poppy Field

by Deborah Carr

  “I haven’t read much of the letters,” he said. “But I get a sense of them here, too. I’d love to know how their future together panned out.”

  “Me, too.” She thought of the date stamps on the last letter of the first batch and the first one of the second. “There’s a large gap in the dates between each batch,” she said. “I didn’t notice until I reached the end of the first one. I haven’t discovered yet why Alice stopped writing to Ed. I hope they didn’t fall out or something worse happened to him.”

  “Most lovers argue at some point.” Tom said. “Maybe he was sent somewhere far away, and his letters took longer to reach her.”

  Gemma liked that she wasn’t the only one enthralled by Alice and Ed’s story. It occurred to her that her relationship with Tom had vague connotations with their romance. Both women were nurses, though at very different times with many different problems and medical experiences. They each loved men who they couldn’t keep close as much as they’d wish to. She thought about how unalike the men’s experiences of war had been, although both had been injured. Ed had fully recovered, while Tom needed to find a way to alter his life to fit the changes to his body.

  She noticed he was waiting for her to reply. “Maybe, I’m not sure.”

  “So, the party?” Tom asked. “Do you want to go ahead with it?”

  “Do you really think there’s a point?” she asked, honestly.

  “I do. It’ll be fun for you to meet people you don’t already know from around here. If you do decide to leave, then they’ll have seen how incredible this place looks now. They might know someone who could want to buy it. If you stay, then you’ve made new friends. Win, win.”

  He did have a point. She also wouldn’t mind seeing how this place looked with a group of people enjoying themselves. “I suppose it would be a way to say goodbye to the people I have met, like Marie and Marcel.”

  Tom beamed at her. “If you’re sure, then I can go and invite people, while you plan what food and drink we need.”

  Concerned about his intended timing of the party, Gemma frowned. “This is for when, exactly?”

  “This afternoon,” he said, winking at her. “Two-thirty suit you?”

  She could see the mischief in his eyes and his enthusiasm for his idea. Gemma pondered the pros and cons for a few seconds, then inspired by his idea, said. “Go on, then. Why not?”

  He was right. It would be a fun way to spend a Sunday and gave her the impetus to clean out the barn area. They were going to need it for shade from the heat of the day.

  Gemma watched Tom drive away, happy that he had come up with such a fun suggestion. Checking her watch, Gemma realised that if she was going to hold a party in the barn area, she would need to get a move on and clean it. An hour later, despite it still being early, Tom drove into the yard with two trestle tables and various chairs in the back of his pick-up.

  “You’ve been busy,” he said, staring at the freshly swept and washed barn floor. “I’ve brought some lights to hang from the rafters, too” he said. “My mum uses them whenever she entertains outside.” He lifted them from the back of the vehicle and carried the long string of tiny lights to her. Let’s put them up quickly and see what you think?”

  They took a few minutes to link them over the roof rafters. Tom had also brought an external extension lead which he hoisted over the yard with two ladders and plugged into the kitchen through the window.

  “Okay,” he shouted. “Try switching them on now.”

  She did. “They look gorgeous,” she cheered, knowing they would be even better in the dark.

  They set up the tables and set the chairs around them. Gemma was relieved to find a box full of plates, cutlery and glasses inside Tom’s pick-up.

  “You really have thought of everything, haven’t you?” she said following him into the kitchen as he carried the box inside.

  “Hopefully,” he said. “It was me who pushed the idea on to you,” he said, giving her a quick peck on her nose. “I thought it was the least I could do. There should also be a box of old jam jars with candles in them for the tables and dotting around the seating area.”

  He placed a box carefully onto the table in the kitchen. “When we go to the village to buy the food and booze, we can pop by people’s homes and invite them.”

  “Good idea,” Gemma said, taking everything out of the box and setting it up neatly. “I’m looking forward to meeting neighbours,” she said, unsure how many there would be. Gemma was excited about the idea now that Tom had brought so much for the party. “Music,” she said, as the thought came into her head. “We can’t have a party without a little music.”

  “Leave it with me,” he said.

  Gemma grinned. “Is that your mum’s as well?”

  He turned and tickled her. “No, that’s mine.”

  Once she was happy that they had done all they could, they went in Tom’s pick-up to the village, stopping off on the way at each of her neighbours’ homes. By the time they had visited Marcel’s hardware store and left Marie’s café Gemma was relieved she had agreed with Tom’s idea.

  “I can’t believe fourteen people have accepted,” she said thinking about the differences in ages of some of their guests. “Do you realise we have people ranging from grandfather to teenager. It’s going to be great fun.”

  “I told you it would be,” he laughed. “Oh, yea of little faith.”

  “Well, we’ll have to see how I feel after they’ve all left, to be certain you were right,” she teased as they entered the boulangerie. “I think I’ll do platters of meat, cheeses and then we can have crackers and baguettes to eat. I can do a few salads and we can have strawberries and ice-cream for pudding. What do you think?”

  “Sounds just right,” he said grabbing a trolley. “The wine is at the far end of the shop. You find the food you want, and I’ll go and pick up some wine.”

  Back at the farmhouse, they unpacked the shopping and set everything out in the kitchen. She was happy with what they had bought. Tom assured her, too, that the neighbours would bring plates of food to share at the party and bottles of drink.

  Gemma checked her watch and grimaced. “I’m going to run upstairs and change,” she said. “I’ll prepare the food when I get down.” She didn’t have a clue what she would wear. She knew Tom thought it was fine for her to stay in her shorts and tee-shirt, but she wanted to dress up a little. She opened her almost empty wardrobe and took out her solitary dress. She hung it up on the outside of the door and smiled. She always felt good in the daisy patterned spaghetti-strapped cotton dress.

  Showered and changed, Gemma put on a little mascara and lip gloss. They probably wouldn’t last very long, she mused, but she could at least try to make a good impression on her guests.

  “You see?” she said, entering the kitchen. “I didn’t take very long.”

  Tom looked up from preparing the salad. It was the third bowl he had made. “The meat is in the oven, I hope that’s alright.”

  “Yes, of course,” she said, thrilled he was being so helpful. Cooking wasn’t her forte and she never minded help in the kitchen.

  “You look very pretty,” he said, continuing to chop a spring onion. “That dress suits you.”

  Gemma smiled. At least she had made a good impression to the most important person. “Thank you,” she said.

  “I thought we could leave the bread whole and let people take what they want.”

  “Very rustic,” she said. “I like it.”

  She washed and cored the strawberries, putting them in a bowl and then into the small fridge. “It’s not much cooler than outside, but it’s better than nothing,” she joked.

  “Right, that’s as much as we can do, I think,” Tom said. “How about we open one of the bottles of red wine and take a glass each up to the poppy field?”

  “I love that idea,” she said realising how much she wanted to make the most of the peace before their guests descended.

  Glasses of wine in t
heir hands, they ambled up the slope to the field.

  “You do know I’m hoping you change your mind about leaving, don’t you?” he said his fingers grazing hers as he passed her his glass, so he could open the gate.

  The skin on her hand tingled where he’d touched it. She walked in to the field and waited for him to close it behind them, smiling at him. “I’m glad. I would hate to think you were counting the days until I left.”

  He took his glass back from her and together they walked to the small area just into the sea of poppies and sat down. “Do you really think there’s nothing you could do here?”

  She shrugged. “I’d like to think there is, but what? It’s not just earning a living, it’s finding somewhere to live.”

  “Aren’t you just making excuses because you’re frightened to commit to something new?” He drank some of his wine and stared out across the field thoughtfully.

  Gemma didn’t like what he had just said, but he had a point. “I have a feeling you know me better than I imagined,” she said, aware that he was not only the kindest but the sexiest man she had ever known. She could feel her mind changing. “Fine. I’ll do what I can,” she said before allowing herself to think anything through.

  He narrowed his eyes. “What? About staying?”

  “Yes, I hate that I’ve missed out on so much fun by being too self-contained and keeping to myself. I’m going to try and find a way to stay here, if possible.”

  He smiled at her. “Good for you. You can always stay at mine, if you like.” He stared at his glass. She gave his suggestion some thought.

  “Like it?” he asked, confusing her.

  “Sorry, what?” She hoped she hadn’t said anything out loud.

  “The wine,” he said. “You sighed. I presumed it was because you liked it.”

  Relieved, she nodded. “Yes, it’s an excellent choice,” she said taking another sip. “Well done.” Hearing voices she sat up straighter. “What was that?”

  “Damn, I think some of the guests have arrived,” he said, standing and taking her hand to help her. “We’d better get a move on, otherwise they’ll think the party is over.”

  “If I have my way,” she said. “It’s only just begun.”

  Chapter 25

  Alice

  10 November 1918

  Alice ran outside as soon as she heard the familiar rumbling sound of the postal vehicle arriving. She waited with the others, each of them desperate for news from their loved ones. It was three days since receiving her last letter from Ed. Surely, he hadn’t been injured again, she thought, dreading the thought of him being sent elsewhere if he had been.

  “Sorry love,” the postman said. “I don’t think there’s anything in the post bag for you today. Not that I noticed anyway. I did look, like you asked me to. Maybe I’ve missed it and Matron will pass it on to you later.”

  “I hope so,” Alice said. “Thanks for looking for me.”

  “No worries. The mail might be ‘eld up somewhere?”

  “I’ll just have to wait and see,” Alice said, hoping that the man was right. As much as she would miss him, she knew she would rather he be relaxing in his beloved cottage in Scotland and far away from noise and danger.

  There had been talk of a ceasefire for days. She could not imagine being back home again with everything back to how it used to be. Alice began walking back to her tent. The nausea she had suffered during the past week hitting her once again. She had missed her monthlies for the third time now. She was unsure whether to tell Ed after the second month and knew he would hate her to keep news of their baby from him. If only he would respond to her letter.

  A second’s doubt smacked her in the chest. It hit her so hard that she had to stop walking and rest against the rear wall of the supply hut. No, Ed would never leave her. Especially not now. Pushing away the hateful thoughts, she straightened up and took a deep breath. They would be married, just as they had planned. Hopefully no one would notice their baby was born a little earlier than expected.

  Both had experienced and witnessed too much death for the joy of a baby to upset them. Alice continued her way down the muddy pathway to her tent. She shivered in the cold drizzle. Leaving this place could not come soon enough. Any satisfaction she once had from working here had long since vanished. Alice was desperate for a nights’ sleep in a comfortable bed. Sharing that bed with Ed by her side was something she dreamt of constantly.

  She smiled, picturing his perfect mouth pulling back in a smile as he read her letter telling him about the pregnancy. It was early days yet but working until the end of the war would keep her busy, just so long as it ended soon.

  Alice hadn’t expected pregnancy to tire her so badly. By the end of each day, she ached to her very bones. It was emotional tiredness, as well as physical. She wondered how long she could bear to tend to men while they struggled to breathe day after day. She was beginning to think that maybe she should begin planning to return home to Jersey. She shook off the thought before it had barely registered. No, she was going to wait here for Ed. At least her being in France meant that she was closer to him, just in case he managed to get leave and spend a little time with her.

  “Nurse,” one of the patients called out to her, his voice hoarse from the damage to his throat.

  Alice looked up from carrying in several clean bed pans, to see a young private waving for her. “I’ll be right over,” she said, placing them out of the way. The last thing she needed was Sister Brown walking into an untidy ward.

  She went to him and saw he was distressed. “What do you need me to do?” she asked, hating to see his face still disfigured with yellow blisters.

  “I can’t breathe very well,” he whispered. “I’m sure I’m worse today.”

  She thought so too, but she didn’t say so. “Don’t worry,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile. “Doctor Sullivan will be carrying out his rounds very soon. I’ll tell him how you’re feeling.”

  “Thank you, Nurse.”

  She straightened his bed clothes and was about to take the trolley back to the supply hut to re-stock it, when Mary hurried into the ward.

  “Matron wants to see you,” she said quietly. “Have you done something you shouldn’t?” she teased. “Again?”

  Alice shook her head, nervously. “I’ve no idea.”

  “You have to go straight away,” Mary said. “I’m to accompany you.”

  She asked one of the other volunteers to speak to Dr Sullivan about the private in case she hadn’t returned before his rounds. Then left the ward for Matron’s hut.

  They arrived at the door and glanced at each other before Mary knocked.

  “Enter.”

  They walked in. A wave of nausea washed over Alice. She swallowed a few times and took small breaths to try to quell the sensation.

  “Sit down,” Matron said, her face expressionless.

  Alice noticed two chairs, instead of one. A sickening feeling began creeping through her mind. She forced it away and saw Matron’s clasped hands trembling slightly.

  Matron cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I have some bad news, Nurse Le Breton.”

  Alice instinctively knew that her worst fears were being realised. “No.”

  Matron pushed an envelope across her desk towards Alice. “I thought it best to ask Nurse Jones to be here with you. I hope that was the right thing to do. If not, please say.”

  Alice stared at the envelope on the edge of the desk. Everything around her slowed. She knew what it would say. She could hear Matron’s voice, but it was muffled, as if she was under water. Taking a deep breath, Alice concentrated on remaining calm. If she left the envelope sealed, she would never have to read the words inside. She watched as Mary’s hand picked up the envelope and placed it into hers.

  “You must read it,” Mary said, a catch in her voice.

  “I can’t,” Alice whispered, staring down at her shaking hands, aware that this letter was going to shatter her future happiness.
<
br />   “Sometimes we have to face our worst fears,” Matron said.

  Alice looked across the desk at her and noticed the haunted look of someone who had suffered. Hands shaking, Alice opened the envelope and slowly withdrew the telegram.

  Deeply regret to inform you that Captain E D Woodhall was killed in action 7th November. Lord Kitchener expresses his sympathy.

  Secretary War Office

  Alice stared at the words as they swam in front of her eyes. He could not be dead. They were going to be married. Had he learnt about their baby before being killed, she wondered?

  She could not move.

  “Alice?” Mary said, resting a hand on her shoulder.

  “Nurse Le Breton,” she heard Matron speak, but could not force her eyes away from the life-changing words in front of her.

  Needing air, Alice stood up. “I have to go,” she said, desperate to get away from their sympathetic faces. She would never be held in his arms again. She reached for the door. As her hand touched the handle Alice felt her legs give way. It was a relief to give in to nothingness.

  She didn’t know what was worse, the initial reading of the telegram, or regaining consciousness and realising all over again that she would never see Ed. Alice opened her eyes. She was alone in a side ward. Tears began rolling down her cheeks. Somewhere nearby an animal howled. Seconds later it dawned on her that the sound had come from her.

  Fear and blind panic clenched at her throat. How was she going to live without him? How was she going to have this baby by herself? She curled into a foetal position and cried great gulping sobs, terrified at the thought of facing the rest of her life without him.

  A cool hand placed a damp cloth on her forehead. “Here,” Doctor Sullivan said, his deep voice comforting, as he handed her a handkerchief.

  Taking it from the doctor, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I—”