A Rose In Flanders Fields

by Terri Nixon

  She moved away to serve someone else, and, with fingers that shook so badly I almost dropped it, I took a deep breath and read the telegram:

  Calais successful stop No sign O stop Keep hopeful

  ‘Everything all right?’

  Once again I barely realised the words were directed at me, but this time it was because of the thundering relief, and the sudden need to sit down that must have shown in the way I braced my hand on the counter-top.

  ‘Yes’ I managed. ‘Thank you. It seems it is a good morning, after all.’

  ‘Glad to ’ear it. Now, are those letters for posting, or just to decorate your glove?’

  I’d forgotten them, in my relief, and passed them over with a still-shaking hand. Now it was simply a matter of finding Oliver and getting Archie’s papers back, and all might be well after all. Surely he couldn’t stay hidden for long.

  ‘I see the Americans have joined us,’ the other customer piped up, waving his newspaper.

  The postmistress nodded as she glanced through the addresses on my letters. ‘And not a moment too soon if you ask me.’

  They both looked at me, trying to draw me into the conversation in a friendly enough way, and I supposed I should have agreed, but I couldn’t help thinking that yet another country would now be sending its finest young men off to that filthy mud-hole to die…more families ripped apart, more young lives blighted. Of course it would mean a fresh injection of strength, and perhaps some respite for the longest-serving men, Will included, but rather than the buoyant mood that seemed to have gripped everyone else, it actually filled me with a strange, dark sorrow. Was no one to be spared?

  It was almost a week later that I was finally pronounced fit for travel. Uncle Jack had returned to continue his search for Oliver, but the Swains in Liverpool claimed not to have seen or heard from him, likewise his family. It was too much of a risk to try and contact any friends; no one could be sure of their discretion. Kitty had taken the lack of success with surprising calm at first, but Lizzy told me she’d heard her weeping alone in her room. I remembered those nights after the attack, the soft hiccups, the anguished, tight-throated little moans, and my heart twisted for the girl; it seemed she, Lizzy and I had much in common when it came to concealing our grief from one another.

  I allowed Frances to dress my shoulder once more, and she gave me a fierce hug and helped me on with my newly-washed greatcoat, then handed me a bag, into which she and the girls had put some spare clothes and a couple of old, many-times mended sheets.

  ‘Where will you stay?’ Lizzy asked as she pushed a packet of sandwiches into my pocket.

  ‘Elise has a new partner, and one or two others have joined them. She wired me a few days ago. They’ve got a place just outside Dixmude. A bit closer to things than Number Twelve, by all accounts.’

  ‘How much closer?’ Her voice was sharp, and I smiled.

  ‘Not right up, but you know, quicker for getting them out. Mrs Knocker and Mairi are still at Pervyse, I think, and still doing amazing work.’

  ‘Elise and the others will be sure to take care of you, won’t they?’

  I hugged her. ‘Of course. The doctor will be whipping these stitches out any day now.’

  ‘Will you see any Americans?’ Belinda wanted to know. She, Jane and Sally had arrived to see me off, and it seemed she might need to be forcibly restrained from climbing into the ambulance beside me.

  ‘I have absolutely no idea,’ I said. ‘I don’t know where they’re stationed.’

  ‘Americans are so dashing. I do envy you, Evie, out there, doing such great things.’ She looked longingly at the empty front seat and I was glad she’d had no training and couldn’t come; she was such a bubbly thing, so full of romantic ideas about what she thought we were doing, I hadn’t the heart to wish the reality on her at all.

  I drove out of the farmyard on the morning of 16 April, and there was snow still lying along the edges of the road, although the worst of it seemed to be over now. Behind me, Lizzy, Frances and the three Land Army girls waved frantically but I couldn’t lean out and wave back; my shoulder was immeasurably improved, but not to the extent where I could flail my arm around without causing fierce language to leap to the fore.

  Rumbling off the ferry at Calais, I glanced with no more than casual interest at a group of soldiers gathered there awaiting transport, but one of them looked up and waved, and broke away from the group. I slammed on my brakes in surprise as he came closer.

  ‘Well, here’s a sight!’ Archie smiled, and hefted his kit-bag. ‘Any chance of a ride back?’

  I gestured to him to get in. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘Spent a couple of days in London after all,’ he said, swinging on board. He dropped his bag comfortably between his feet. ‘Uncle Jack stepped in and smoothed over my lack of papers,’ he went on in a lower voice. ‘He wanted me to help look for Oliver. I hate like hell to say it, but that laddie’s going to cop for it now, even if we find him.’ He looked at me anxiously, before I could question the coincidence of his being here. ‘How’s Kitty faring?’

  ‘A little better. Not well enough to travel though. You heard about…what happened?’

  ‘I did, aye.’ His voice shook a bit. ‘Poor little Kittlington. I cannae believe all that’s happened to the poor lass, and her so sweet. So trusting. I’d like to get m’hands on that scrawny –’

  ‘And end up court-martialled anyway? We need her word, Archie, or all we’ve got is you in prison.’

  He sighed. ‘I know, I’d be no good to her locked away. Anyway, how are you?’

  ‘As you see. Much restored, and spoilt rotten by Lizzy and Frances. Is Jack still in England?’ I wondered if he’d already left for Berlin, but relaxed when Archie replied.

  ‘Aye. He’s doing everything he can to trace the young idiot, but drawing blanks at every turn I’m afraid.’ It wasn’t until we were well on our way, and I couldn’t rescind the offer of a lift, that he cleared his throat and said, somewhat sheepishly, ‘Actually I knew you’d be here. Uncle Jack told me which crossing you were hoping to make.’

  I felt a little lurch of apprehension, but reminded myself that knowing I was there wasn’t the same as deliberately choosing the same crossing. I took a quick glance at him before returning my attention to the road. He’d turned away and was watching the landscape fly by, but I could see the faint flush on the back of his neck.

  ‘I’m glad Uncle Jack was able to get to you in time,’ was all I said.

  ‘You and me both, lass.’

  The road had been badly shelled since the last time I had travelled it, and I failed to notice a new hole in the road until the last moment. I pulled hard on the wheel to avoid it, and almost managed, but clipped the very edge and wrenched at my right arm. I felt an all-too-familiar warmth at the side of my neck and had to stop, hissing in exasperation.

  ‘Right, that’s it,’ Archie said, and opened his door. ‘Slide over, I’m going to drive. I knew I should have suggested it before,’ he called out, as he crossed in front of the ambulance, ‘but I also knew what you’d say.’ As he climbed into the driver’s seat he looked over to continue his scolding, but stopped.

  ‘Ah, you silly wee girl,’ he breathed instead. He reached out to turn back the collar of my coat, and I winced. ‘You’ll need to get this looked at again before you go out to the new place.’

  ‘It’s fine, I just keep pulling the stitches, that’s all.’ I moved away from his hand, wishing he wasn’t so gentle, so obviously caring. Wishing he wasn’t him. Why couldn’t it be Will sitting here with me? I blinked away more tears, but this time they weren’t born of frustration.

  ‘Sweetheart, you’re back too soon,’ he said, and I heard the echo of my own words to Will, and the tears would not be held back. Archie misread them, and pulled me close. ‘You’ll be fixed up properly in no time,’ he murmured, and I shook my head against his shoulder, wanting to explain without hurting him or making him feel foolish. In th
e end it seemed easier to let him think it was the pain of my healing wound that had undone me.

  I sat back as soon as it felt as if doing so was not an insult, and wiped at my eyes. ‘Go on then,’ I said, and forced a smile. ‘Let’s see you do a better job at getting this bus back to Dixmude.’

  ‘That’s not why I –’

  ‘I know, silly,’ I said, and now my smile felt more natural as he blushed again and started off. Unable to untangle the conflict in my own mind, I thought, instead, about Oliver Maitland. Twenty-one years old and facing the worst scenario he could ever have concocted in his own mind, as he left home to fight. I had to trust that justice would prevail, and that, whatever Oli’s punishment might be, he would at least be spared the horror of the firing squad, but it was becoming less likely with every passing day.

  Archie handed the ambulance back to me at HQ. ‘At least come in and see the medic,’ he said, when I slid back behind the wheel.

  I shook my head. ‘Elise or one of the others can sort me out when I get there. I’m not going to take up someone’s time for the sake of a bandage and a dab of iodine.’

  He gave in, kissed his finger and touched my cheek, and told me he’d come and see me later, when I’d settled in. I wished he wouldn’t, but I smiled and waved, and made him promise to bring a loaf and some wine. I drove on, out past poor, shattered Number Twelve, over the pot-holed road, avoiding the worst bits from a memory I hadn’t realised I’d engaged; my mind was still on Oliver, and what Uncle Jack might be doing to prepare a solid defence. Eventually I saw the wooden board by the side of the road, pointing up a track: “Ambulance post #22.”

  Elise heard me pulling to a stop outside the cottage and came out to meet me. She had a broad smile on her face, but looked a little bit secretive as she hugged me. ‘Jolly good to see you again, Davies. How’s your neck?’

  ‘Tons better,’ I said. ‘I just need help to clean it up, I pulled the stitches again.’ I looked at her closely. ‘How are you, though?’

  She still sported a bandage on the side of her head, but she knew exactly what I meant, and shrugged, the smile fading. ‘I miss her, of course. She was the best out of us, you know.’

  ‘Nonsense. You brought out the best in each other. I’m so terribly sorry, Elise, and what’s worse is that I don’t think I even told you that.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have expected you to.’ She looked at the ambulance, and nodded her approval. ‘This will do splendidly. Come in, let’s introduce you. We’ve a few extra hands for a week or two before we all move on and leave you to it.’

  ‘What’s the new girl like?’

  ‘Not nearly as new as I led you to believe.’

  ‘What?’ I followed her into the cottage, and was nearly knocked off my feet by a laughing girl who threw her arms around me and began jumping up and down, taking me with her.’

  ‘Careful!’ Elise cried, but although my shoulder and neck protested the treatment, I couldn’t help laughing too.

  ‘Boxy! What in blazes are you doing here?’

  ‘Oh, I got utterly fed up at home, you know how it is. How are you, poppet?’

  ‘Tired,’ I confessed, disentangling myself from her enthusiastic embrace. ‘And I could do with a fresh bandage before my coat gets ruined. It’s marvellous to see you though. You must tell me all about how married life has treated you.’

  ‘Likewise,’ Boxy beamed, taking my hand and leading me to the table to sit down.

  ‘Davies, this is Sarah Johnstone,’ Elise said, gesturing at a thin, slightly nervy-looking girl in a woolly hat. ‘She came out with her friend Alice Kelloway last week.’

  ‘Hello, Johnstone.’

  ‘Kelloway is out today,’ Elise said. ‘It’s her turn for the town run.’

  ‘I was supposed to go with her,’ Boxy put in, ‘but I just had to see you.’

  ‘Take off your coat,’ Elise ordered, putting a large tin on the table in front of me. As Boxy helped me ease my coat down over my arm I reflected, a little sadly, that even our old familiar first-aid tin, with the bumps and scrapes that told a hundred stories, was now gone. Elise set to work and, with a little slump of relief I let her get on with it.

  It was all a little bit overwhelming, and I was glad to relax and accept a mug of hot, overly-sweet tea. Elise put a pile of letters in front of me, and my heart did an extra-hard thump as I recognised the neat handwriting on the top one. Will. More than anything I longed to take myself off somewhere quiet and read it, but I couldn’t leave just yet; Boxy was determined to hear everything she’d missed and, in between asking me dozens of questions about Kitty, which I fielded as best I could without giving any actual answers, she told me all about her wedding, her new home and why she couldn’t bear to stay in England another day.

  ‘Honestly, Davies, you know I love Benjy to absolute bits, but I was in danger of saying something extremely blunt to that mother of his. I mean, she’s a poppet, of course, but so very exacting! And since they were talked into opening up the house as a convalescent home, she’s become a nervous wreck and come to stay at ours, claiming all kinds of highly suspicious ailments she might catch. And she complains about the food, the dogs, the lack of grandchildren…’

  Her commentary provided a soothing, familiar and much-missed background noise, and I felt myself smiling at the sound of it, although most of the words faded into a hum. I kept looking at the letter, and when Elise had finished and pronounced me fit for anything, I made my excuses and took myself off out to the ambulance with my little stack of correspondence. No one followed me; we all knew how precious these letters were, and how we preferred to read them in private, at least the first time.

  Dearest Evie.

  This will be hard for you to read, and I’m sorry. But I must say it. I can no longer tell myself that anything I do is making a difference. All my days are spent marching from trench to trench, carrying supplies of 2 inch mortars that go nowhere towards meeting our demands, and waiting to take my turn back on the front line, where I might find myself in a position to help advance our position. The censors had blacked out the next sentence too, and I wondered if there was something in the offing. I took a deep breath, gave up trying to see what lay below the thick black lines, and continued to read.

  I shan’t burden you with the names of the good men who have gone West in the past day alone, but it can only be a question of time now, until I join them.

  Even worse would be to survive this war in such a state as I have seen too many men returned to their families. I have seen the looks on the faces of their wives and sweethearts when they see what has become of their loved ones – raving, some of those men, made violent and angry by circumstances over which they have had no control. I feel that anger in me, and have done since High Wood, and I can’t bear the thought of unleashing it on you. Much better to hope for a quick, clean death. Please understand, I am not looking for it, but if I must go, then please God let it be quick, impersonal, and that you never have to see my body.

  When I think of you alone and grieving it makes the wait all the more painful, and I would give anything to spare you that. Archie Buchanan cares for you, I could see it when we were at Oaklands, and he’s a good, honest man. As an officer he is far more likely to make it to the other side of this madness (if it ever ends) than I am, but of course you must choose for yourself. I must beg you to release what you have felt for me, say goodbye to me now while I am alive to hear it, and do not ask, ever, what became of me.

  Your much saddened, much older, and much wiser

  Lord William.

  It was a long time before I felt able to go back into the cottage.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Alice Kelloway turned out to be a bit third-rate, sadly. I was used to people who worked tirelessly and single-mindedly, and both Boxy and Kitty had been a joy to partner up with. Kelloway and Johnstone drove rarely, and helped with cleaning and repairs even less frequently, but, to be fair to them they knew their way around a first-
aid station. Kelloway and I didn’t really get on from the start although I don’t think either of us really knew why.

  The cottage hadn’t been evacuated long, and there was still work to be done fixing it up so I joined in where I could, reminding a disapproving Elise she’d said I was fit for anything.

  ‘She meant you’d be absolutely fine digging a trench, or firing a sixty pounder from the front line, not scrubbing this ghastly muck off the floor,’ Boxy grumbled. ‘Honestly, the boys have got much the easier job!’

  I flicked water at her, and went back to work, my mind on Will’s letter. There seemed little doubt that it was really me he was thinking of, but not once had he said he still loved me. Was that because he thought it might weaken my resolve? Perhaps…I swallowed hard, and it hurt as my throat was so tight, suddenly. Perhaps I was wrong after all, and that he no longer loved me and was looking for an escape.

  I had changed too, I knew that. As evidenced by my impatience with poor Kitty that night, I was bleaker in outlook, less ready to please others, and although the optimism Will loved in me hadn’t really disappeared, it had certainly faded. I’d tried so hard to be the same old Evie whenever we met, but just as I could see past his smiles and still love what he had become, so he would have been able to peel back the layers of my own good humour. Perhaps the difference, though, was simply that he did not like what he saw beneath. The thought panicked me and, worse, it made me question my persistence; if he wanted to relieve himself of the burden of my love, how could I possibly force him to endure it?

  Boxy seemed to sense my need to keep working, and she and Elise stopped nagging me to take things easy. Thanks to Elise’s superb dressings I felt as if I could keep going all night, but when Archie arrived, with the promised bread and wine, we all downed tools and the others took themselves off for a walk, urged by Boxy who looked at me with a rather too-knowing expression.

  Archie poured wine into two tin mugs, and produced some biscuits, and told me how Uncle Jack had found him at Calais where he’d been staying in a small hotel by the dock.