by Terri Nixon
Oliver glanced across and, noticing my expression, tried to lighten it. ‘We’re quite close to the coast here, fancy a swim?’
I squinted out at the rolling grey clouds and pulled my coat closer around me. ‘Sounds lovely. You go first.’
He grinned, and pulled the car to a stop in a field gateway, and turned to face me. ‘Right then, Madame Davies, what was it you wanted to talk to me about? Your wire was intriguing, I must say. I assume this has something to do with Kitty. Has she decided to stay in England?’
To give myself time to organise my thoughts I pulled the Dewar bottle from my bag and poured two mugs of tea. I could sense his curiosity becoming impatience, but I had to word it carefully. ‘I have something important to tell you,’ I said at last, ‘and I want you to promise you’ll listen all the way through before you say anything.’
‘Go on,’ The friendly, quizzical expression faded slightly into wariness, and I wondered, fleetingly, if I should just make up something else. But the time for lies had passed. ‘It is about Kitty. She’s all right,’ I held up my hand as he opened his mouth, and he subsided, his face pale, and my carefully rehearsed words deserted me. ‘What we told you, about her being ill, that wasn’t true. Not entirely.’
Oliver tensed further. ‘Out with it! What’s happened? She’s got the courage of a charging elephant, that one, it can’t be the war that’s seen her off.’
‘No, it’s not. She…I was, well, she was driving alone one night and stopped to help someone she thought, at the time, might have been drunk. Because of his eyes, she said. He wasn’t drunk though, he’d planned the whole thing to catch her. Oli, she was terribly brave and fought back, but –’
‘Stop!’ His hand crashed against the steering wheel. He lowered his head, and I could see the struggle as he fought to contain his fury. Eventually he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then he looked at me, and his eyes were cold. ‘Who was it?’
‘I can’t be sure, she wouldn’t say. But I do have a suspicion.’
‘Tell me!’
My hands were shaking, gloved though they were, and I put my cup on the dashboard and wrapped them together. ‘I think it might have been the driver who brought you and Archie and the colonel over that day.’
‘I know the one. Ratty-looking bloke. Hardly ever speaks.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Not sure, but I’ll damned well find out.’ He bit his lip and looked at me with reddened, worried eyes. ‘Is she all right, really? I mean…I assume this is the real reason she’s stayed in England. Is she too scared to return?’
‘Perhaps I’ve understated it so you could absorb it better,’ I said, and cleared my throat. ‘It was…the worst kind of attack.’ He flinched, and I hurried on, ‘I’m so sorry, Oli, I didn’t know whether I should tell you.’
‘Of course you should have! And before now.’
‘Archie said –’
‘Archie said! She’s my sister! My sister, not his.’
I didn’t say anything, and the atmosphere inside the car was heavy with my helplessness and his silent anguish. The distant crack of gunfire sounded louder in the stillness of the car, and a gust of wind blew a splatter of icy rain across the windscreen. Otherwise the only sound was Oliver’s harsh breathing, and the squeak of the leather under us as we shifted in our seats.
‘I need your help,’ I said quietly.
He was still pale, his hair looked redder than ever in contrast. He ran a hand through it, and I saw the hand was shaking as badly as mine. ‘My help? What can I do?’
‘You’re the only person who might be able to persuade Kitty to tell the truth. To identify him so he can’t do it again.’
‘More likely to listen to Archie. She’s sweet on him, you know.’ Oliver looked at me closely, no doubt sharing the belief with his sister that Archie and I were in some way connected beyond friendship.
‘She doesn’t want him to know,’ I said.
‘Of course.’ Oliver kept his eyes on me and I flinched under their sharp, green gaze. ‘She’s pregnant. That’s what you’re telling me, isn’t it?’
There was a faint note of hope in his voice, and in the set of his eyebrows, that he had misunderstood. But I nodded and the hope faded. He looked back out of the windscreen and chewed at his lip. ‘You think I can get through to her?’
‘If anyone can.’
‘Not you? You’re her closest friend. She trusts you with her life.’
‘Not any more.’ It hurt to say it, and now I risked angering him all over again. ‘It was my fault she was put in the way of danger.’
His tone sharpened. ‘How so?’
‘Remember the time you and the colonel arranged for me to take this car to see Will? That was the night it happened.’ His face twisted, and I reached out to touch his arm but he jerked away. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, longing for him to turn to me with kindness and forgiveness, and tell me I was being foolish. But he didn’t.
‘You scurried off to patch up some quarrel, and left my little sister to fend for herself,’ he said in a tight voice. ‘Quite apart from what happened, she should never have been allowed to drive alone at night.’
‘We all do it!’ I heard the protest in my voice and wished I didn’t sound so defensive; I knew I was to blame, so why did it hurt so much to have it confirmed?
‘She’d been here four months, Evie!’
This was too much, even taking into account my own guilt, and my voice rose to match his shout. ‘Most of us do it the first bloody night! If she’d joined the regular corps she’d have been driving that road at night, alone and with a loaded bus, before she’d had her first cup of tea!’
‘Well, she didn’t join them! She came to you. And you let her down.’
Oliver shoved open his door and got out, heedless of the rising wind that sliced through even the heaviest of coats, and threw his drink away into the grass. I got out too, it felt as if I should bear at least the physical discomfort alongside him.
‘Oli –’
‘Don’t call me that. That’s for friends.’
Stricken, I somehow edged my voice with steel. ‘Captain Maitland!’ He flinched, and I sensed the approach was the right one and pursued it. ‘You’re an officer in the British army, and one of your men attacked a vulnerable girl while she was doing her duty to help your men. What do you intend to do about it?’
The silence seemed to go on forever but I held my tongue, and my breath. I’d done all I could. At last Oliver turned to me, and I saw then that he was close to tears. ‘Evie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t blame you.’
‘You should,’ I said, taking a step closer, my voice softening again. ‘I do, and so does Kitty. But I blame that driver more, and he’s the one who needs to be brought to justice. We need you for that.’
He nodded. ‘I may have a day or so saved. I’ll talk to the acting CO, and see if I can bring some more forward, enough to go back to England.’ He looked at me with a haunted expression. ‘Thank you for trying to make this as right as it can be.’
‘I owe it to her.’
‘You weren’t to know,’ Oliver said. ‘I know you feel badly about it, but you’re right; she’s not the only girl driving alone at night. It’s just…she’s my little sister, and the others aren’t.’ I nodded. It occurred to me that I had no idea if Will had ever worried about me like this; I don’t know if I wished it or not.
‘I understand, Oli. And thank you.’ My hair was being tugged by the wind, and a fresh splatter of rain stung my cold face, but relief that he had apparently accepted our friendship again gave me the courage to smile hesitantly. ‘Can we get back into the car? I’ve brought a picnic but I’m blowed if I’ll sit on the grass and eat it.’
He managed an answering smile, though a strained one, and nodded, and we climbed gratefully back into the relative warmth of the car. To break the faintly awkward silence I delved into my bag and withdrew the bread I’d wrapped in the waxed paper that had accompanied my
last parcel from home. I gave some to Oliver, then took out a jar and a spoon.
‘Honey from Dark River Farm,’ I said. ‘Lizzy sent it. Would you like some?’
In answer he held out his piece of bread and I put a dollop of thick, comb-encrusted honey onto it and spread it with the back of the spoon. I needed to get him talking, to break this tense, fragile barrier completely, and help him relax enough to absorb the reality of what had happened. I raised a piece of bread to my own mouth, but then and lowered it with regret. I really must get that tooth seen to. Instead of biting, I tore a piece off.
‘Tell me about Kitty,’ I said. ‘About both of you, I mean. She never mentions your family, but I get the impression your parents didn’t want her to come out here?’
‘They didn’t,’ he said around a mouthful of bread. He took the spoon from my hand, and dug into the jar for more honey. ‘They blocked her application to join the ambulance corps.’
‘They must have been worried,’ I said. ‘My own mother wasn’t overly pleased when I told her I was leaving.
‘That’s not it. They were delighted when I joined up, told anyone who would listen about their brave son, the army officer. Different matter for Kitty, she was earmarked for marriage to some ghastly oik Father had picked out for her. It’s not just one-sided, they can’t bear each other. This lad has nothing to him, but his father and ours are in business together.’
‘But why would your father try and persuade them to marry?’
‘To ensure the business stayed in both families I suppose. Rather an old-fashioned way of looking at things, but that’s Father for you.’ He licked the spoon and then, as if the honey had sweetened his temperament as well as his bread, he adopted a pompous tone. ‘No, Katherine, you will not be running off to chase soldiers around France, you will stay here and marry Alistair, and then spend the next few years popping out lots of little Alistairs.’
My hand tightened on my mug, and his mood changed again as he realised what he’d said. I cleared my throat. ‘But she came anyway.’
‘Thanks to Archie, yes. I gather the girl who came out with you at the start left to marry?’
‘Yes, Boxy. Barbara, I mean. I met her during training. She’s the one who suggested we set up alone. She married a very sweet man from the flying corps.’
‘Good for her. Well, as you know, Archie and I go a long way back. He was home on leave and came to visit, knew I had completed my training and was heading out soon. He heard Kitty complaining about what Mother and Father had done, and so told her about you needing a new partner.’
I looked at him narrowly. ‘You do realise then, she probably only came out here because it was Archie who’d told her?’
‘She’d have found a way anyway, somehow. As I said, my sister’s a courageous little thing.’ His voice choked a little on that, and he fell silent for a moment. Then he went on, ‘Archie made it possible for her, after Mother and Father put the brakes on her formal application.’ He gave an odd, proud little smile. ‘She did the Red Cross training under the pretence of looking for a position on home soil, it was the only thing that stopped her getting pulled out from that too.’
‘You’re right, she does have enormous courage. She carried on working after…well, after. Right into the small hours.’
There was another quiet moment while we considered just how much fortitude and dedication that must have taken, then Oliver sighed. ‘Thank you for telling me, Evie. It must have been hard for you.’
‘Harder for you to hear it.’
‘Look, even if she does name him, it will be her word against his. He may only be a private but he’s general staff, and they tend to stick together.’
‘We have to try, at least.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll go and see the CO as soon as I get back. It’s frustrating as blazes though, I know a couple of the lads who’re on the Blighty leave list, and they’d be happy to swap, for a price.’
‘Why don’t you ask them?’
‘Easily done, for local leave, but not for overseas. Those passes are like gold dust, and I imagine the top brass don’t want to turn them into currency. No, honesty’s the best policy if we don’t want punishment duty, or even pips taken off.’
‘It’s a pity Colonel Drewe isn’t here, he’d be bound to understand. Will you tell your acting commanding officer why you want to go?’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’ll raise more questions than we can answer, and cause a hullabaloo that might frighten Kitty into keeping quiet. I’ll just say it’s a family emergency. Throw myself on their mercy.’
It made sense, and I nodded and started packing away tea things. ‘Then I suggest we go back now, the sooner we get this arranged, the better.’
In the early hours of the following morning, midway through a particularly gruelling night, Anne ushered me up from the cellar to snatch a ten-minute break. She set water on to boil to take back downstairs, and then went to the doorway, where she lit up a gasper and pulled on it with almost frantic haste. I pretended not to notice the tear tracks on her cheeks; sometimes, no matter how hardened you like to think of yourself, something will get through to you and tonight seemed full of those somethings.
I sat down at the kitchen table, pen in hand once more. There was blood on my coat-cuff, the blood of someone’s son, husband, brother…and the knowledge that there might be another driver or nurse somewhere with the blood of my own husband on their sleeve gave me a familiar sick feeling. I had lost track of where he was in the cycle of rotation between trenches, and it occurred to me that I wouldn’t even know if he was currently operational. I made up my mind to write to Barry again, to ask him to let me know when they might be given a day, or half a day’s leave, and to try and get over to see Will one more time before our marriage fell apart altogether.
But this letter was for Lizzy. Although I had written regularly since joining up, she had been right in what she’d said; I was trying to protect her unnecessarily, and it was insulting both to our friendship and to what she herself had been through. It was time to put that right.
My dearest friend,
I write to you now in a moment of rest during a long, dreadful night, and although I have been here over two years I cannot ever remember seeing such carnage. I have kept my letters to you light, not wanting to add to your burden of worry and grief. You have been through so much, Lizzy, and almost lost your life, and I have never been in such danger as you have, never risked anything so selflessly for someone I love.
Tonight I feel helpless and small and weak, and I am ashamed of it. Our boys have been gassed halfway to hell, many of them died in the ambulances, but a few lasted until they reached the cellar before succumbing. It’s pitiful, and agonising to watch; bronchitis in the blink of an eye, the fluid rising in their lungs until they drown and die. There were also casualties from the shells that carried the gas, of course, and tonight there seemed to be so many more than usual. Perhaps because the Tommies were exposed as they ran, trying to escape what they could see all around them. These have been taken to the clearing stations but too many of them will go no further and there will be many, many funerals in the next few days. It’s endless, Lizzy, and I am heartily sick of it.
I can see you now, reading this, and I know you will have tears in your eyes, but I also know you will have an angry set to your expression because I am the same. I can barely see for crying, but at the same time I feel as if I could walk out into No Man’s Land myself and take Fritz by the scruff of the neck. I’d shake him ’til his teeth rattled and he cried for his mother!
I must stop writing now, I feel I have poured enough grief into your life. Please forgive me for that, and I promise I shall be back to my old self very soon.
Pass on my kindest regards to your mother and Emily, and the twins, to Mrs Adams and the girls, and, most importantly, to darling Kitty. Tell her again how sorry I am? She will not hear it from me.
Take care of yourself, and I hope you hear from
our much-missed Mr Bird very soon.
Your ever loving
E.
I had just finished addressing the envelope, and slipped it into my coat pocket, when the world blew up.
Chapter Seventeen
The impact sent me staggering against the table in sudden, hideously bright silence. A second later the noise came back into the room and I felt as if my head would burst with it. I heard and felt the deadly whisper of glass shards, most unable to penetrate the thickness of my great coat, but some sliced the skin of my face and neck.
The table crashed over and I hit the floor, and through the thunder all around me I heard the scream, ‘Cellar, Davies!’ Numbed, I tried to remember the training we’d had for just this situation, but all I could do was duck my head and wrap my arms around it. I felt someone grab my arm and looked up to see Elise, blood streaming down her face from a nasty scalp wound. Somehow I stood up, and as Elise urged me towards the cellar I saw a prone figure by the front door and recognised Anne, half-covered in fallen masonry.
I took a step towards her but Elise tugged me on. She was crying but she was, at least, thinking straight. ‘Leave her!’
‘But it’s Anne!’ My own voice sounded muffled, as hers did. She sobbed harder but pulled me to the cellar door and pushed me down the steps.
‘We’ll go to her later, she’ll need us in one piece.’
In the relative safety of the cellar I tried to imagine how I’d feel if it were Kitty I’d left alone up there, and I silently raged at myself for letting Elise pull me away. But deep down I knew she was right. Anne was likely already dead, and there would be others who would need Elise and me when this was over. If we survived.
Another shell hit nearby, but this time the cottage itself was spared. I felt blood soaking into the collar of my coat, and raised my hand, dreading what I would find. Elise caught at my fingers before they could touch my neck, and lowered them away; I couldn’t see her expression properly, the only light we had was from flickering fire, but I could see her shaking her head.