by Mary Wood
Helping her up the hill and then to sit down, he asked, ‘Did you lose your husband to the war?’
Gazing ahead, she didn’t speak for a moment. Panic had set in. What could she tell him? If she said ‘Yes’, he would want to know where and with what regiment, and she might slip up and reveal too much. He might be French, but as an officer he could have spoken to English officers – maybe even her brothers. Oh, my dear brothers, I hope you are safe.
‘No. He was a doctor and became ill. It was a mystery what ailed him, but he died very quickly, just under five months ago.’ Visions of Albert shooting himself came to her and made her body shudder. With it came the sadness at what the war had cost them – Albert had been a nice cockney chap; he hadn’t been given the best start in life, and then he’d found himself in charge of young lads, seeing them shot, blown to pieces or maimed and broken, till his mind couldn’t deal any longer with what he’d seen. She thought about the millions who had died already in this war. She thought of her brothers, in constant danger, and of all the families torn apart. Her own family – distraught, she imagined, over her continued absence, and not knowing if she was alive or dead. She thought of herself in a predicament that she had no idea how to cope with . . . Oh God! A sob escaped her.
‘I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry. Here.’
She took the khaki-coloured handkerchief from him and wiped her face. ‘I – I’m all right. It is such a sad world. How did we come to this?’
‘Let us not talk of the war. I need to escape it, just for a little while. I’m Laurent Pevensy. I will tell you about who I am, in my real life. I’m a scientist studying the disease of cancer. It is a struggle, but we aim to beat this killer disease, and we have hope. Especially since the German zoologist Theodor Boveri discovered that it has a genetic basis, as now we have something solid to work on. I am in constant touch with my colleagues and they keep me up to date with progress. I also have some of my books here with me, and study in my rest periods, as well as working on theories and working out problems they send to me. I should have taken my immunity from war service, but I wanted to help my country.’
Without thinking, Edith gave away that she too worked in medicine, as she said, ‘I find that fascinating. I have seen many of my patients die in agony from cancer, and as a doctor you feel powerless to help. We need you scientists to unravel the mystery behind these diseases, so that we can find treatments. Yes, you should have stayed; you would have saved many more lives in the future than you can at the moment.’
‘A doctor, too! And you have no idea what killed your husband? Give me his symptoms and I will work on it. You didn’t give me your name? Where did you study? What kind of doctor are you: a surgeon, a practitioner, a specialist?’
With a shock, Edith realized how much she had revealed. Her thinking went into overdrive, trying to come up with a cover story. She couldn’t risk discovery. ‘My name is Enid Reed.’ Elsie Inglis came to her mind, and her story gave her further material: ‘I studied in Scotland at a school set up by a woman who found many stumbling blocks for women in the profession. I am a surgeon. We surgeons do try to help cancer sufferers by removing tumours, but we need something to help halt its progress – or even to know more about how it spreads through the lymphatic system. Though of course the Curies’ radiation discovery has helped, and radiotherapy is giving hope to those who are diagnosed very early on in the disease.’
‘Edith!’ She suddenly heard Aleksi shouting for her.
‘Oh, that is my father-in-law.’ She stood up. For a moment Edith was grateful for having chosen a false name that was very similar to her real one.
They had spent the past two hours talking. She had been lost in a world she truly knew, and with someone who understood and who gave her fresh insights, and she hadn’t realized the time had flown so quickly.
‘I’m here,’ she shouted as loudly as she could, in an attempt to stop Aleksi repeating her real name. She saw him in the distance and waved.
He waved back, calling, ‘Are you all right? We were worried.’
‘I’m fine. I’m coming home now.’
Thankfully Aleksi just waved and turned away. Whether he had seen Laurent or not she couldn’t tell, but thought it likely, as he didn’t wait for her, but hurried away. He would be afraid. She should not have engaged so deeply with this stranger, but should have excused herself in the very beginning and returned to Petra and Aleksi. She had put herself, and them, in danger.
‘Your father-in-law has an Eastern accent. Is he from Russia?’
Suddenly she felt she could trust Laurent. ‘No, but nearby. The Russian section of Poland. He is afraid. He – he escaped here.’
‘A refugee? Well, he has nothing to fear from my countrymen. He should register, and then he will be accepted.’
‘It is complicated. Please forget about it. I – I . . .’
‘You are afraid, too. What are you frightened of?’
‘N – no, I’m fine. Once my child is born I will return to England. It is just that I cannot travel at the moment. There are complications.’
‘You need medical help, is that it? Oh, Enid, take care of yourself. Don’t put yourself, or your unborn child, in danger.’
His concern touched Edith more deeply than she wanted it to. It triggered a tear.
‘Oh, ma chérie, what is it. What troubles you?’ Still holding his handkerchief, she used it once more to mop her eyes. She wanted so much to tell him her story and ask him for his help, but she couldn’t, and that made her feel lonelier than she had ever felt in her life.
‘I’m being silly. Talking to you – another professional – has made me miss talking to my husband. I have to go. It was nice meeting you.’ She was lying again, but whereas when she had first concocted them, the lies hadn’t mattered, now somehow they did. ‘I – I hope we meet again.’
‘We must. I will not let you go out of my life. Where can I contact you? What is your address?’
‘Please don’t. It would hurt my parents-in-law; they wouldn’t understand. I will have to explain now how I came to be talking to a man, and a stranger at that. They are grieving for their son. I’m carrying his child.’
‘I understand. But what about when all this is over? You say you will go back to England? Perhaps I could write to you there?’
‘No. Look, give me your home address and, when it is safe for me to do so, I will write to you there. I promise.’
‘Safe? You are very mysterious. I am most concerned for you.’
‘Please don’t be. I’m fine. I’m just worried about how it will look, if you contact me. I can get in touch with you when I know it’s safe to do so.’
‘Very well. I will wait and look for the post every day. And, until I’m home, I will badger my mother whenever I can, to let me know if any post arrives for me.’ As he said this, he pulled out a notebook and flicked through the pages. She could see that some pages had drawings of birds and others of woodland animals.
‘You draw beautifully. But it’s strange that you then hunt down and kill those same animals.’
‘Only for food. I love to camp in the wild and be self-sufficient, be at one with nature. Now, here’s my address. Enid, I’m sorry, I don’t want to scare you or disrespect you, but I have to tell you: you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.’
A blush crept over her cheeks. A twinge in her stomach shocked her. She looked up at him. ‘Thank you. For a lady to receive such a compliment, in the condition I am in, is very special.’
‘You are special. May I kiss you? I know that is forward of me, but it is the way of life now. I may never get another chance.’
‘I would like that. I, too, do things that I wouldn’t normally do, driven by the thought that so much may pass me by.’
His lips felt soft and wonderful as he kissed her lightly. She wanted more – a deeper kiss – but couldn’t make the move to make it so, and knew that Laurent’s good manners would prevent him from taking that libe
rty.
They came out of the kiss, but Laurent’s arms still enclosed her. She looked up into his eyes. ‘I really hope that we will meet again. And I – I need to tell you that my real name is Edith, not Enid. I was afraid to tell you the truth. Please don’t ask me why, not now. But when I write, we will all be safe and I will tell you everything.’
For a moment he stared at her. She could see that he was confused, but she couldn’t leave him without mentioning her real name and letting him know there were things he had to learn about her.
‘I am mystified by you, but understand. The times we live in dictate what we can do and say. Edith. Edith – I like that; and it’s what I thought that man shouted. Just tell me that you are in no danger.’
‘I’m in no danger, but I am not in my rightful place and where I want to be. Something happened that I can’t speak of, for fear of betraying others and putting them in danger of losing everything. Once the war is over, then I can speak. Then you can make up your mind if our . . . our friendship can continue.’
‘Edith, I want more than friendship with you, and at this moment I can see nothing that would prevent it. At least, I mean, if you feel the same way?’
She knew that she did. That somehow she had met her soulmate, in the middle of nowhere, and whilst she was trying to cleave herself from the guilt she felt about Albert.
‘I do feel a connection to you. Keep safe.’
‘Edith . . .’
His arms tightened around her once more, crushing her bump as his lips met hers, this time setting off an explosion of the feelings he had awakened in her. And she responded with all that she was.
She pulled away, unable to take any more. ‘I – I have to go. I – I’m sorry. I wish this is all there ever was, for eternity . . . You, me – this peaceful wilderness. Oh God!’ A shiver rippled through her. Into her mind came a picture of Albert.
‘Edith, I’m so sorry, forgive me. You must still be grieving and in need of comfort. I didn’t mean to take advantage of that. It was very bad of me. Please don’t be afraid. It won’t happen again until you are ready.’
‘Goodbye, Laurent. Goodbye.’
He went to protest, but let her go. Silent tears wet her face as she walked away. The hateful deceit she had played out added to her guilt.
Once out of sight, she realized she still had his handkerchief. Squeezing it tightly, she sat down on the cold grass and called out softly, ‘Mama, Mama, I so need you. I want to come home. I want to come home. I’m sorry.’
18
Ada
Low Moor, mid-December 1916
The cross she bears becomes heavier
Just as joy had been Ada’s companion as she’d stood on the platform a week ago, hopelessness was now. The prosecution had dropped the charge of murder and entered one of manslaughter. It didn’t matter how much Grayson Berry pleaded against it; the judge allowed a full acquittal of the charge of murder on the grounds of self-defence, and agreed to the lesser charge of manslaughter, saying that the defendant would know from his training that the technique used in the throw he subjected the victim to could result in serious injury or death. Aye, it was better than the one of murder, but as Grayson pointed out, it would be more likely to attract a ‘guilty’ charge, as the jury would feel they had somehow given a just verdict on the loss of a man’s life. Whereas with the murder charge, if they weren’t sure, they would have to bring a ‘not guilty’ verdict and Joe would have been free.
From her position, sitting stiffly on the wooden bench of the public gallery, Ada could see Joe. He stood facing the judge. A hush had descended. Joe’s face showed the strain of the last few months. New lines had appeared around his mouth and he’d lost weight. His cheekbones protruded, leaving hollow dents beneath them.
The first time she had been allowed into the courtroom to watch proceedings, after her own testimony had been heard and cross-examined, Joe had glanced up at her and had given her a reassuring wink. Grayson had told him off for doing so, as it had been seen by the jury and could be construed as saying, ‘We are getting away with it!’
This had horrified her, and wiped away all the pleasure the wink had given her. Now, as she remembered it, she thought, Oh, Joe. How I long to hold you.
The judge’s words droned on, but the only ones she heard were ‘detained at His Majesty’s pleasure for a total of five years’. In that moment she thought it was a long time to wait to hold him, but she would wait. No one else would take his place. She allowed a tear to plop onto her cheek, as she saw them take Joe down to the cells. The clanging of the chains around his ankles and wrists grated on her, making her want to scream at the injustice of it all, but she stayed still.
She didn’t know how long she was waiting there, but when a voice called her name she realized she was the only one left in the courtroom.
‘Ada. Ada!’
Looking down, she saw Grayson.
‘Come on, I have gained permission for you to speak to Joe, but you will have to hurry, as they don’t hang around. They’ll take him to Leeds Prison overnight, and then tomorrow to wherever his sentence is to be served.’
She was happy just to be close to Joe for a moment. ‘Oh, Joe, I’m sorry. I’ve brought all of this down on you.’
‘Eeh, lass, you haven’t. I should have taken Paddy’s blow and not attacked by way of defence, or retaliated. I have a lesson to learn. Not being able to go to war when all of me pals went was a big blow, and then the jibes of “coward” got me down. Sometimes the jibes came with violence and so, despite me bad heart, I trained in self-defence, and that gave me reactions that I didn’t think twice about using.’
‘Why didn’t Grayson use that in your defence? It would at least have given a reason for why you acted like you did. As it was, the jury were left thinking you were defending yourself and did so in an angry way, and with hatred, against the husband of the woman you love.’
‘I know. I just didn’t want to use it as an excuse. Paddy is dead because of what I did. What if I killed someone else who thought of me as a coward? No. I’ll be safer in prison until this war is over.’
This made her cross, but she wasn’t about to show it. These moments were precious. ‘Joe, you’ve never held me. Not really held me.’
‘And I can’t now, with these irons on me. Oh, me little lass.’
‘But I can hold you, my darling.’ Reaching out to him, she held his head to her breast. ‘The memory of this embrace has to last us a long time, Joe. Always think of it, and I will remember the feel of it and be waiting for you. The first thing I’ll do when you come out to me will be to hold you. Keep thinking of that, Joe, and we will get through this.’
Her words belied how she felt. She wanted to scream and scream, but his bravery stopped her. He was prepared to take his punishment – a punishment that extended to her, as the next five years would be a living hell for her. But she would follow his example and face it with courage. She would be as courageous as he was.
On the train home Ada read everything she could see on the newspaper that her fellow passenger opposite her was reading. It kept her mind occupied. Each time he turned the page and folded it back over the others, she would see headlines like ‘Lloyd George to Form a Coalition’, or others to do with the war’s progress. Another read: ‘Woman Burned to Death in House Fire’. There was no good news in the newspaper – nothing to hold on to. But then one headline hit her and shook her body: ‘Miss Edith Mellor Still Missing’.
Looking out of the window, Ada tried to imagine what it would be like to be kidnapped by a murderer. Rene had told her the story of Edith one night as they had sat together talking. Ever since, Ada had remembered Edith in her prayers, and had even asked her lads to do what they could by asking some of those saints that they must know by now to help this courageous female doctor.
Edith was a heroine. Rene had said that this is what all the papers had called her, and had outlined Edith’s work in a hospital on the front line of the Somme. They
had written about how much her colleagues had loved her, and thought her the bravest person. This courage would bring her through, wouldn’t it? God, she hoped so.
When she turned back to the newspaper, shock trembled through her. There, in large letters, was the headline ‘Cowards Shot at Dawn Should Be Named and Shamed!’
Something about this headline had her recoiling into her seat, yet unable to take her eyes off the article. For some reason it triggered the memory of the letter that had come about Jimmy’s death, and made her question why the death-penny had never arrived. Nor his last letter – a letter each soldier wrote before they went into battle. A letter that was sent to their family, if they were killed. Why hadn’t any of his personal belongings arrived, either?
Her blood ran cold. Her thoughts gathered pace. Not me Jimmy. Please God don’t let that be what happened to me Jimmy!
As this thought died, she remembered that young Harold Smithward had returned home injured. She hadn’t known him as well as she’d known Eric and Arthur, as he lived a few streets away, but she had known that he was one of the pals who left at the same time as Jimmy. She would stay on this train, instead of getting off at the first stop near Rene’s, and travel to Low Moor and visit him. Maybe Harold knew how Jimmy had died.
Her thoughts went back to Edith and to her courage. Well, the same applies to you, Edith, as does to Joe. I will bind what courage I have to yours, as well as to his, and even though I have never met you, Edith, I know doing so will help me. Aye, and I’ll pray every night for your safe return, lass.
Letting out a deep sigh, Ada hoped and prayed that, whatever she learned from Harold about Jimmy’s death, she’d find strength in the binding of her own courage to Edith’s and Joe’s, and that doing so would help her to bear all she had to face.