by Terri Nixon
He leaned on the side of the ambulance. ‘How’s Lizzy, by the way?’
‘She’s very well,’ I said, smiling. ‘She’s a sparky little thing, always has been, and tough as old leather with it.’
‘A lot like young Kittlington there,’ Archie observed.
‘Very much so.’ I sloshed the remains of the bucket over the floor of the ambulance and jumped down. Archie put out a hand to steady me as I landed, but we both knew it wasn’t necessary, and I removed my arm gently but firmly from his grasp.
He removed his hat, and it made him look younger and far less authoritative. ‘Evie,’ he began, but I wouldn’t hear it, not now, with Will’s words still rattling around in my head. Since our little ambulance base was attached to the division Archie had recently joined we saw each other often, more often than was advisable, perhaps; I kept him at arm’s length, but I wasn’t blind, and I hadn’t given up on Will. I even had my suspicions about Archie’s transfer to Dixmude, though I never voiced them.
‘Would you like some tea?’ I said, adopting a brisk tone. ‘I can spare a few minutes, but Gertie needs some attention before we put her through another night like last night.’
‘I should think it was pretty grim,’ Archie said. ‘I hear the clearing station down the road from the railway was hit.’
I told him about stopping to pick up survivors, and about the boy with the shrapnel wounds as we walked back to the cottage, and the momentary awkwardness passed. In the main room Kitty and Oliver were sitting at the little table, each clasping a mug of hot tea, and the driver was sitting in the window seat. His gaze swept over me, too slowly, and then returned to Kitty who was, thankfully, oblivious.
She jumped up to pour more tea, and the way her eyes lingered on Archie was not lost on me. I wished he’d look back at her with clearer eyes; she was bright, hard-working and cheerful, and despite my initial griping about having to train her, I couldn’t have wished for a novice with a sweeter temperament. She and Archie would be so good for each other.
The colonel came into the kitchen, and, despite his friendly greeting and informal manner, he was so clearly a man of distinction that Kitty fell silent and slid into her seat. Without her chatter the room seemed very quiet, and I sought to enliven it again.
‘How long have you and Archie known each other, Captain Maitland?’ I asked, washing my hands in the dribble of icy water from the tap.
‘Oh, hundreds of years,’ Oliver said. ‘We were at school together. He was much older, of course, about to leave when I started. But he coached the first team at rugger and we hit it off, so he ended up staying at the old homestead for holidays a lot of the time.’
‘You and Kitty don’t sound at all Scottish.’
‘We’re not, Archie boarded at my school just outside Liverpool, where I was a day boy. He has family there, don’t you, Arch?’
‘Aye, one or two of my mother’s relatives still live there.’
‘I remember Archie coming to our house when I was little,’ Kitty put in, and blushed as Archie smiled at her.
‘I still can’t believe what a pretty girl you’ve grown into, young Kittlington,’ he said. ‘I know Evie here will take good care of you.’
‘Oh, she does,’ Kitty said, looking warmly at me. ‘I’m learning how to drive at night, and she’s ever so good at that.’
‘Please tell that to Uncle Jack,’ I said drily.
‘This would be Carlisle, I take it?’ the colonel said with approval. ‘Another marvellous chap. No sense of propriety of course, but courageous, and a damn good soldier if memory serves.’
‘That’s him,’ Archie said. ‘Been like a father to Evie and her brother since Lord Henry died.’
‘Good friends, those two,’ Drewe said. ‘Always thought they’d come through it, somehow. Terrible shame,’ he said again, and squeezed my arm.
‘Do you two know each other very well then?’ Kitty said, her green eyes going from me to Archie and back again, her expression shadowed slightly.
‘Not really,’ I said, at the same time as Archie said, ‘Quite well.’ Then glanced at my face and cleared his throat. ‘Well no, not really well, but the circumstances of our meeting were quite intense, so it feels as if we’ve known each other longer.’
‘Archie was a great help to my husband after High Wood,’ I explained.
‘Husband?’ Colonel Drewe looked at my ringless left hand. ‘Lucky man.’
‘Very,’ Archie said, deliberately misunderstanding. ‘I mean, he could have been picked off a dozen times, by either side, but he’s back with the 33rd now, managed to get out with barely a scratch.’
I frowned. ‘Barely a scratch, yes, but with his mind in shreds.’
Oliver nodded in understanding. ‘Still, good to know he’s back in harness, eh?’
‘Not really.’
There was a tense silence, broken only by the distant boom of shellfire.
‘Why don’t you wear a ring, Evie?’ Kitty asked at length.
I shrugged. ‘Lots of reasons. Hygiene, for one. Besides, wives aren’t allowed at the Front.’
‘How ridiculous, Will is miles away!’ Kitty protested, but she looked happier at the reminder that I was married. Her gaze stole to Archie again. He affected not to notice, and I recognised the irony with a little inward sigh.
‘Beastly shelling last night,’ Oliver said. ‘CCS hit, I gather?’
I let Kitty tell him how we’d had to abandon our plans to offload our wounded, while I finished my tea and tried to ignore the way Archie’s eyes lingered on me. They were really quite a lovely kind of grey, with shifting, smoky colours deep down that made him always seem to be thinking about faraway places or people, but when they lingered on mine they seemed to still, suddenly, as if his sole attention was on my own thoughts. It was disconcerting.
I thought about Will’s face, his fined-down features with the new lines of strain around his mouth giving him at least five years to add on to his thirty. He was due some respite from the forward line soon, and perhaps the chance of an overnight leave; I had already made up my mind to beg steal or borrow a car so I could go to him if he wrote. Kitty had eagerly offered to cover for me if he did.
‘You’re more than ready to make the night run yourself now, Kitty,’ I told her, with a twinge of guilt at my own selfish reasons for suggesting it, but she looked thrilled at the prospect, and smiled shyly into her tea cup.
‘Excellent!’ Drewe said, patting her hand. ‘I’m sure you’ll do a splendid job.’
‘Thank you, I’ll be awfully pleased to be of some real help at last.’
‘Watch out for shell-holes,’ Oliver said, worried, ‘those roads are abysmal.’
After a few more minutes chatting about the state of the roads, Archie turned to Oliver. ‘Well, Captain, say your goodbyes, the fun and games await ye.’ He turned to Drewe. ‘Ready, sir?’
‘Of course, dear boy,’ the colonel said, and rose and picked up his hat. Kitty hugged Oliver tight; she was so young, and she and her brother clearly so very close, she must be every bit as worried about him as I was about both Lawrence and Will. The driver stood up too, and nodded, replacing his tea cup on the table and thanking Kitty in a rather thick-sounding voice. It was hard to hide a little flicker of distaste as I nodded goodbye to him, and I’m not entirely sure I was successful, but either he was used to it, or hadn’t noticed.
Archie squeezed my hand. ‘Look after yourself, Evie.’
‘And my sister,’ Oliver put in, and he looked pale beneath the jaunty set of his cap. ‘I’m relying on you.’
‘I will.’ I searched for my brisk, hearty voice, and stood up, picking up my toolbox. ‘Now, you boys go and give Fritz something to think about, and maybe we can all go home.’
When they had left I sat down to open the little pile of letters that had arrived. One from Mother, one from Lawrence, and one, I saw with a little surge of pleasure, from Lizzy. The postmark was Devon, and at first I assumed she was visiting her
family in Plymouth, but when I opened it I saw the arrangement was more permanent.
Dear Evie.
I was so sorry to learn of Will’s return to France, and so soon. I send you both my deepest love, and my hopes that everyone will soon be safely back where they belong. Particularly you.
As you might have seen, I am writing from a place called Dark River Farm, and that is because, now I have almost completely recovered, I have joined the WLA. It’s lovely to be closer to Ma and Emily and the twins, and the Land Army certainly keeps me fit! The owner of the farm is a lovely lady by the name of Frances Adams, and she is fully aware of my limitations and has very kindly given me light duties for a while. By the time the summer comes, and I am needed for work out in the fields, I will be fully fit and able to really pull my weight. In the meantime I’m able to visit home almost every day, as it’s a short distance and doesn’t tire me too much to walk it.
I’m sorry to say I have worrying news of our friend, Mr Bird. He has been sent to visit his father. We all know they mistrust one another, and I am concerned Mr Bird might be met with some hostility. Still, it does me no good to dwell on that worry, and he told me himself, just before he left, that he is determined to return having established a better relationship.
How is the new girl getting along? She’s lucky to have you to take care of her. Write to me when you can. If you need anything and you think I might be of some help, do tell me. I am sending, by later parcel, some honey made here at the farm, and Mrs Adams has offered some home-made biscuits too. I will enclose some socks that were given to me by Mary (hush, don’t tell her!) they are those lovely warm ones, and I know she has sent you some already, but I think your need is greater than mine.
I will write more soon. Until then I am, as always,
Just Lizzy.
I put the letter down, feeling Lizzy’s fear pouring off the page despite her assertions that she wouldn’t worry. Mr Bird was the name we had chosen for Uncle Jack, since we had learned of his code-name, Goshawk. The use of the word Father could only mean he had been despatched to Germany, and no wonder poor Lizzy was distraught, I felt a little bit sick myself at the thought. But he had been doing this for years and was clearly good at it. Lizzy had told me how coldly efficient he could be when he needed to be, and now I had cause to know it myself; to kill his best friend, even in the pursuit of saving hundreds of lives, required a switch in his mind and his heart he must easily reach and operate. Such a switch might save his life again someday.
I took a piece of paper from my precious and quickly diminishing stack, and wrote back immediately.
Dearest Lizzy,
Please try not to worry about Mr Bird, although I understand completely, and you will miss him while he’s away, I know. I hope he and his father are able to reach a better understanding of one another, that will be such good news for everyone concerned.
I’m so proud of you for joining the Women’s Land Army, so typical of you! But please remember you are not yet properly well, don’t try and do too much too soon. I’m glad your Mrs Adams is understanding of your situation. She must see in you, as we do, such determination to work hard, and she must know you are worth looking after. I have no doubt you will give her your all as soon as you are able. I would love to visit you, I have never been to Devon and it sounds beautiful. Perhaps when I am due some leave in the spring I might write to you and arrange something?
Thank you for the offer of the socks! I know the real reason you’re sending them is because they itch dreadfully, but one can never have too many pairs of socks out here! I look forward to some delicious Devon honey, thank you.
Will has written to me since his return to France but I confess (to you and no one else) that his words carry little hope that he is continuing his recovery. He seems distant in more than miles, but I am planning to see him soon, and hope to bring him a little closer to the man we knew before. Please continue to pray for us, and we will pray for you and for Mr Bird.
I knew how Lizzy needed to hear my old, cheerful tones, even in my writings, and so bent to my last paragraph with a determined smile pasted onto my face, in the hope it would translate to the paper.
Gertie, Kitty and I were very busy last night, the town came under some pretty nasty attention, but we muddled through. I think Gertie needs a rest, but like all of us she must press on, and if bits are going to drop off, better they drop off her than us!
Take care, darling.
Yr ever loving
Evie
I picked up Will’s last letter and pushed it into the pocket of my greatcoat with the others I kept with me. I had told Lizzy of the distance I could sense in his words, but it was his hand that had written them and so it wouldn’t have mattered had it merely been a list of things he needed from home, or an invoice from his days as a butcher’s apprentice. It was his hand.
A week later he wrote again; he was granted local town leave for a day, and would be able to meet me at the station. I left Gertie with Kitty, assuring her once more of her ability to drive at night, and borrowed a car from Oliver’s company under the pretext of fetching supplies. Lieutenant-Colonel Drewe had stepped in and cut through the red tape, bless him, he was so helpful. It seemed predestined to be a perfect trip.
I wouldn’t have been half so pleased had I known what my absence that night was going to lead to.
Chapter Twelve
The station was as crowded as always but I saw him right away; straight-backed and square-shouldered despite the weight of the equipment he carried. Our embrace was uncomfortable; bulky and unsatisfactorily clunky, too many layers between us, and our gas masks clashed I knew his hands were on my back, but I couldn’t feel themthrough my greatcoat and my sweater.
I felt him holding back as he kissed me, as if we were acting a part on a stage and mustn’t give in to real emotion; my racing heart was doing the work for both of us. I wondered if he could feel it in my lips and my fingers as I could, but the kiss ended too soon, leaving me with a hollow ache in my chest and a faint feeling of embarrassment, as if it was all one-sided after all.
We walked to the little park beside the railway, and found an empty bench by the cold, grey pond. I couldn’t think what to say, whether to ask him outright how he was coping, or whether to simply blather on as I did in my letters, filling the silence with nonsense that neither of us really cared about. In the end I just took his hand and we sat quietly, ungloved against the bitter wind, but at least we were touching. I became transfixed by the sight of impossibly thin ice at the pond’s edges, rising and falling gently under the insistent fingers of the wind that rippled the water, until a tiny piece on the very edge broke away, and the whole, lacy-delicate sheet crumbled in front of my eyes. One or two pieces bobbed away to become ensnared by the long, ice-tipped grass, but the rest, insignificant and lost now, simply floated away from each other until the water swallowed them up.
Strangely saddened, my thoughts were trying not to make foolish connections and I jumped as Will cleared his throat. ‘Have you heard from Lizzy?’
‘Yes!’ I told him everything she had said in her letter, so relieved to have something to say that I found myself elaborating, just for the sake of seeing the tension slowly leaving his taut frame, and the lines in his face soften. ‘She’s happy, and well,’ I finished, ‘but she’s so frightened for Uncle Jack.’
‘Jack’s a good man,’ Will said. ‘He knows how she’ll worry. How you both will,’ he added, squeezing my hand. ‘He’ll be more careful than ever.’ I almost blurted out the news that Archie was actually Jack’s real nephew, but just stopped myself in time: Archie Buchanan wasn’t a subject I wanted to bring up, not in such a rare and fragile companionship as this.
‘I’m hoping to visit Lizzy soon,’ I said instead. ‘The Red Cross in Kent have raised enough in donations for two new ambulances, and Skittles and I will both go, so she can visit home for a day or two and then drive one of them back. She’s coming along ever so well.’
&
nbsp; ‘She seems sweet, from what you’ve said.’
I nodded, and the conversation died again. It was awful, and so unlike us. ‘When do you have to be back?’ I asked.
‘Next train, to get back before my watch.’ He looked up at the leaden sky, as if the gathering dark spoke in his favour. ‘I’m sorry it was such a short visit, for all that driving you had to do, but I can’t afford to raise the slightest suspicion and people are watching closely, even though I was exonerated.’ He was babbling now, in his eagerness to be gone.
‘Will…’
He looked back down at me, seeming a stranger in the grey afternoon light. I had known he would become a handsome man one day, and I’d been right, but I’d also believed he’d be someone I knew inside and out, and would be as familiar to me, always, as my own face. We were both enmeshed in this filthy conflict, both struggling daily against dirt, disease, fear and loneliness, but while I took comfort in the knowledge that I was at least doing some good, he had been watching more of his friends lose their lives, their limbs, and their minds, to no discernible gain. Pointless death every day, young men snatched away in the shriek of a shell or the crack of a sniper’s rifle, and Will’s hesitant return to emotional health was being eroded with every one.
‘You weren’t ready,’ I said, unable to find the words I really wanted to say: that I understood what he was doing, that I would give him all the time he needed, that I had utter faith in the strength of what we had built between us. ‘Tell them.’
He turned away. ‘I made a mess of things in ’16, and risked everything. This time I’m going to stick it out, and if I don’t come back…well, I’ll only be one of thousands more, most of them ten times more worthy.’
I could have slapped him for his indifference, if only to shock him back into life. With an effort I controlled my voice. ‘And what about my feelings? Don’t you care about me at all?’