Ghost Soldier

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘Who does decide things for me, then?’ said Jack. ‘Who would you allow to decide what I can do?’

  ‘At the moment’ – Dr McKay hesitated – ‘your parents are the ones best placed to know that.’

  There was silence. Then Millie spoke up. ‘Jack’s parents are due to visit him this afternoon.’

  ‘So they are!’ Jack beamed at Millie, and turned and ran out of the room.

  Jack’s parents were overjoyed to see and hear him behaving almost like his old self again. Both Professor Holt and Dr McKay spoke to them, but it was Jack himself who persuaded them to sign the form. He asked that Rob and Millie should be there when he told everyone the reasons why he wanted to donate his blood.

  ‘I broke down completely during an important attack,’ he confessed. ‘That’s why I was sent home. A shell exploded right beside me. I tore off my clothes and began screaming and shooting my rifle at the sky. My friends went forward to die without me fighting at their side. I’m so ashamed that I didn’t help them. Now I’ve a chance to save the life of a fellow soldier, and it makes me feel as though I’ll be worth something again.’

  Mr and Mrs Otterby looked at Dr McKay.

  ‘That seems like a sensible reason to me,’ he said.

  ‘The ghost soldier would like what you are doing, Jack,’ said Millie.

  As his sister spoke, a strange quiver ran through Rob.

  Mr Otterby signed the consent form for the blood transfusion and then put his arm round his son’s shoulder. ‘I am proud of thee, lad,’ he said.

  Before Rob’s mother was given a similar form, Professor Holt spoke to her.

  ‘You do understand that this procedure may not work? We don’t have time to test Jack’s blood, but I am hoping that it is of the same common group as your husband’s. It may not be, so this transfusion might even hasten your husband’s death.’

  ‘But without it he will certainly die?’ Rob’s mother asked. When the professor nodded, she picked up the pen, signed the form and handed it to him.

  ‘I’d like to stay, please, sir,’ Rob said as Major Cummings instructed them to follow him downstairs.

  ‘It would calm my nerves,’ Jack said quickly as the major opened his mouth to refuse this request.

  Professor Holt looked at Rob kindly. ‘For a short time only.’

  ‘I’ll leave as soon as you say I must,’ Rob promised him.

  In the secret room on the attic floor Dr McKay placed two beds side by side while the professor prepared his equipment.

  ‘Your blood will pass through a filtration unit,’ Professor Holt explained to Jack as he swabbed his skin with disinfectant and inserted a needle into his arm. ‘We use sodium citrate to stop the blood coagulating, although . . . normally there would be more preparation time.’

  Rob saw that his father’s body was so inert that he scarcely moved as a corresponding needle and tubes were connected to his arm.

  Jack winked at Rob as his blood began to flow into the tube and on towards the transfuse-vac flask. ‘This is good strong stock going from one shepherd to another.’

  Rob realized that Jack was trying to help him hold himself together and thought how their positions were now reversed. He smiled at Jack, biting hard on his bottom lip as he did so to stop it from trembling.

  Within minutes the pallor of his father’s face altered – from a wax-like grey to dirty white.

  Rob squeezed his eyes closed and then opened them wide. Was he imagining this? No! Definitely – he could see the change – the texture of his skin was improving. But . . . there was a worry line along Professor Holt’s forehead. And his father’s breathing was less rhythmic. He was struggling for air. The sigh and stutter of each desperate intake of breath sounded loud in the quietness of the room.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Rob whispered.

  Dr McKay looked at Professor Holt. The professor gave a tiny shake of his head. ‘We should disconnect.’

  ‘I don’t want you to stop.’ There was a new confidence in Jack’s voice as he spoke.

  ‘Adrenalin?’ suggested Dr McKay.

  ‘It’s not been used extensively. I’ve not had a chance to gauge its effects in cases like this . . .’ The professor hesitated. ‘I suppose . . .’ His voice tailed off. ‘Yes, all right.’ He took a syringe from the sterilization unit, then glanced at Rob.

  ‘Rob,’ said Dr McKay, ‘your mother and sister need support. You should go to be with them.’

  Jack raised his free hand to his forehead. Rob felt his throat tighten, but he managed to nod and return the salute before he left the room.

  Waiting was the hardest thing Rob had ever done. Downstairs, Mr and Mrs Otterby sat in the drawing room talking to his mother while Millie chatted to Private Ames.

  ‘He’s Jack the Giant Killer now,’ Private Ames was telling her, ‘ready to slay demons. I’m not surprised he volunteered to help another soldier. He was the same in the trenches. Always was a brave one, that lad.’

  ‘You should tell his mummy and daddy that Jack is brave,’ said Millie. ‘They might think he shakes sometimes because he’s a coward.’

  ‘I will,’ said Private Ames. ‘And I’ll tell you something else. A minute ago I thought I saw the sky – the blue, blue sky. But I know that I’m inside the clinic, so it cannot be true.’

  ‘No, it cannot,’ Millie agreed, ‘for there is no blue sky today.’ She looked out of the window. ‘There are only grey clouds above us.’

  ‘I love blue. My mother’s eyes are blue.’

  ‘Mine too,’ said Millie. ‘That’s why my mummy bought blue material to make me this dress. She said it would bring out the colour of my eyes.’ She frowned, then stepped in front of Private Ames. ‘Can you see the colour blue again?’

  ‘A little bit,’ he answered her.

  ‘And now?’ she asked, stepping away from him as she did so.

  He shook his head. ‘It comes, and it goes. I don’t know why.’

  Millie tilted her head to look up at him. His eyelids were raised by the tiniest amount, letting in a thin sliver of light. She sat down on the rug and spread her skirt around her. ‘Look at the floor,’ she said, ‘and tell me the colour you can see.’

  ‘Blue,’ said Private Ames. ‘I see the blue sky.’

  ‘Not the sky,’ Millie corrected him. ‘I think you are seeing my blue dress.’

  ‘Glory be!’ said Private Ames. He fell onto his knees and raised his hands to the ceiling. ‘Glory be to the great Creator! I can see again. I have lived in darkness, but now I can see!’

  Hours passed and the sun was setting when Rob left his mother, with Millie cuddled in her arms as if she were a baby, and took Nell outside for some exercise. He looked at the top floor of Mill House. The thirteenth window was empty.

  Private Ames joined him, and together they walked up and down the lawn, driveway and garden paths, over and over, until a shower of rain drove them to shelter inside the clinic.

  Professor Holt came to meet them. ‘I will thank Mr and Mrs Otterby and let them know that their son has not suffered any ill effects through the giving of his blood. It’s too early to say for sure,’ he said, before Rob could open his mouth, ‘but you might want to be the one to tell your mother and sister that your father’s condition has improved very slightly. He is conscious and you may go and talk to him.’

  Rob went into the drawing room. His mother and sister were asleep on one of the couches. Very, very gently he brushed his fingers on Millie’s cheek to wake her up.

  ‘Daddy is awake,’ he whispered. ‘Daddy is awake and wants to see you.’

  ‘One minute only.’

  Major Cummings stood at the foot of their father’s bed as Rob and his sister and his mother tiptoed into the room.

  ‘Welcome home, Daddy.’ Millie kissed her father’s hand, which lay still on the bedcovers. He moved his fingers, but did not open his eyes.

  ‘He is extremely ill, but he can hear you,’ said the major.

  Rob’s mot
her’s face was soaked with tears. ‘Dearest William,’ she said, ‘you’ve come back to us at last.’ With the gentlest of touches she stroked his hand. Then she stepped aside so that Rob could do the same.

  Rob thought his heart would burst – his dad was here in front of him after months and months of absence! He gave his father the best handshake he could manage . . . and felt an answering response.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  ‘SANDY HELPED TOO, didn’t you, boy?’ said Millie.

  They were in Dr McKay’s office a few days later, when he was filling out forms to update their father’s medical records: his condition had changed from ‘not expected to live’ to ‘patient making progress’. The doctor reached across his desk to pat the pup that Millie was holding.

  ‘I agree,’ he said. ‘And if the two of you look after him, then I don’t see any harm in him remaining at the clinic. It might do the men some good – Jack Otterby especially.’

  ‘He’s a stray,’ said Millie. ‘We found him in the woods.’

  ‘Looks like a pure collie,’ said Dr McKay, ‘apart from the sandy bit across his ears.’

  ‘That’s why I named him Sandy,’ Millie blurted out. ‘He doesn’t look so much like Nell as her other pups did—Oh!’ She put her hand to her mouth as she realized her blunder.

  The doctor smiled. ‘Why do I think that I am missing something here?’

  ‘The army requisitioned Nell’s puppies to make them into messenger dogs.’ Rob decided it was time to tell the truth. ‘They came to take them away, and . . .’

  ‘Ah . . .’ Dr McKay nodded in understanding. ‘And this fine fellow, being smallish and smart, somehow got overlooked.’

  ‘Sandy wasn’t really overlooked,’ said Millie. ‘Rob thought of a plan to hide—’ She stopped before Rob could kick her ankle.

  ‘It would be a great loss to the clinic if he were removed,’ said Dr McKay. ‘Sandy’s contribution to patient morale is of paramount value. I’d say he helped Jack Otterby’s recovery along by several months.’ He picked up his pen and wrote on some headed notepaper. ‘There you are. I’m issuing an official certificate that makes Sandy an essential member of the staff of Mill House Clinic. He is now in a reserved occupation and cannot be requisitioned by the armed forces.’

  ‘I wondered where you had hidden the puppy,’ Rob’s mother said as they walked downstairs.

  ‘So you knew the puppy hadn’t died?’ Rob asked her.

  ‘You’re not very good at telling lies, Rob, I’m glad to say.’

  ‘Then why did you place flowers on the pretend grave?’

  ‘When I heard the Army Procurement Officer quizzing you about the puppy, I thought if there were flowers on the grave and I pointed that out to him, then your story would be more convincing.’

  ‘But you kept doing it,’ said Rob.

  ‘It was so that if he returned to check up on us . . . he’d never dream we’d keep putting fresh flowers on a pretend grave.’

  ‘Oh!’ Relief surged through Rob. His mum hadn’t been so mixed up in her head about things after all. Despite her anxiety and grief, she’d been looking out for him and Millie.

  ‘Did you think I’d gone a bit crazy?’

  ‘Well,’ said Rob, ‘I knew it must have been you who was putting the flowers there, and I thought maybe’ – he paused for a second – ‘maybe you believed that Dad had died and had given up hope.’

  ‘It’s true I’ve been very depressed. I should say sorry to you both for putting another burden on your shoulders. It was you, my children, who supported me.’

  And she pulled Rob and Millie close, and put her arms around them.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to steal your pup.’

  Rob glanced up from where he was sitting in the potting shed watching his sister brush Sandy’s coat. He saw a different, changed Jed from the one he’d known at school.

  ‘The clinic had borrowed scythes from Farmer Gordon that Sunday morning so that the men could clear the overgrown pathways. I thought I’d better move your puppy at once in case they found him.’

  ‘I’m so glad you did,’ said Millie, ‘and that you were there when we needed you.’

  ‘And we’re glad you came with us when we went to meet the hospital train yesterday,’ added Rob.

  ‘Don’t know if I liked being kissed by that nurse,’ said Jed.

  ‘Nurse Evans was so happy when we told her that Daddy was getting better that she kissed everybody in sight.’

  ‘Even Bert and Chesney,’ giggled Millie.

  ‘Let’s hope she doesn’t try to kiss Captain Morrison when she gives him my thank-you letter,’ said Rob.

  ‘I told the engine driver that I’d still bring them plum-jam sandwiches,’ said Millie. ‘And Mummy is going to bake them some cakes too. They all deserve a present for the help they gave us.’

  ‘Here.’ Jed thrust something at her. ‘There’s a present for you. I’d to tie Sandy to a tree with a bit of string when I came to help carry the stretcher. But a smart dog like that needs a proper collar and lead.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Millie opened up the crumpled parcel. ‘These are lovely, Jed. Did you make them yourself?’

  ‘It’s no bother.’ He shrugged. ‘Just some leather strips I plaited together.’

  ‘Sandy will be so proud to wear this collar. Look!’ Millie showed it to the puppy. ‘See what Jed made specially for you?’ She slipped the collar around the dog’s neck. Then she handed the end of the lead to Jed. ‘You can take Sandy for a walk if you like.’

  He didn’t need a second invitation. Jed grasped the end of the lead and rapidly walked away, as if he thought Millie might change her mind.

  ‘That was a kind thing to do,’ Rob said to her.

  ‘I know,’ she agreed.

  Rob laughed. And as he did so, he suddenly realized that it had been months since he’d laughed out loud at anything. And that made him laugh again.

  Millie smiled and took his hand, and the two of them went out along the path to visit their father.

  EPILOGUE

  WEEKS LATER, WHEN their father was able to be moved downstairs to a bedroom on the first floor, Professor Holt called Rob to the attic room to speak to him.

  ‘I am saying goodbye. This unit has served its purpose, but now the work on blood transfusion is progressing so fast that I am to go elsewhere. We hope to develop a portable machine which will take blood nearer to where the soldiers are fighting. This should save thousands of lives. In time I will return to Belgium. Your determination to find your father has given me hope that I might find my own family.’

  The professor handed Rob a box. ‘This was found in the eaves of this room. It contains books and toys and games belonging to the boy who once lived in this house. He became a soldier and was killed at the start of the war when he tried and failed to save the life of a fellow soldier. It sounds as if he was a decent sort of man, so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind his things being put to good use. Perhaps you’d like to sort them out and leave them in the drawing room. They would serve to amuse any children who come to visit.’

  Rob took the box and Professor Holt locked the door behind them.

  In the drawing room Rob looked at the toys: a pull-along horse, a wooden fort with soldiers. They were the toys of the little boy who had grown up to become a soldier himself – the man whose spirit had been searching for a soul to save. Rob picked up the books. From between the pages of one, a photograph slid out.

  It was a view of the front of Mill House. On the lawn of cropped grass a lady stood holding a croquet mallet in one hand. She’d stopped in the middle of her game to look up at the house. Her other hand was raised to wave. Distinctly in the thirteenth window, waving back at her, Rob saw a figure in white.

  After visiting was over, Rob and Nell walked down the driveway with Millie and Sandy. When they reached the main gates, Rob looked round. The sun was casting a dazzling golden light on the front of Mill House.

  He stared directly at the
top floor. He wasn’t at all afraid of what he saw there. Raising his right arm, Rob touched his fingers to his forehead.

  From the end attic window the ghost soldier returned the salute.

  ABOUT THERESA BRESLIN

  THERESA BRESLIN is the Carnegie Medal winning author of over thirty books for children & young adults whose work has appeared on stage, radio and TV. Her books are hugely popular with young people, librarians and teachers. Remembrance, her top selling YA novel of youth in WW1, has now been reissued to include Book Notes. The Dream Master was shortlisted for the Children’s Book Award. Divided City was shortlisted for ten book awards, winning two outright.

  Also by Theresa Breslin

  SPY FOR THE QUEEN OF SCOTS

  A story full of secrets, betrayal and murder, set in sixteenth-century France and Scotland.

  ‘A gripping historical thriller from the brilliant Breslin’ The Bookseller

  PRISONER OF THE INQUISITION

  A gripping tale of fire, fury, love and revenge, set during the Spanish Inquisition.

  ‘Unputdownable’ The Times

  THE NOSTRADAMUS PROPHECY

  A dramatic adventure story set in sixteenth-century France.

  ‘Terrific novel . . . enormously enjoyable’ Guardian

  THE MEDICI SEAL

  A gloriously rich and authentic story set in Italy in 1502.

  ‘A superb historical thriller . . . an enchanting novel about genius, and a gift to an enquiring mind’ The Times

  REMEMBRANCE

  An epic tale of young lives altered by the First World War.

  ‘Immensely readable, passionately written’ Guardian

  SASKIA’S JOURNEY

  A haunting tale of self-discovery.

  ‘Mesmerising . . . truly memorable’ The Bookseller

  DIVIDED CITY

  Two young rival football supporters are caught up in an attack on an asylum seeker.

  ‘A cracking good read . . . this is a book with far-reaching appeal and universal themes that will encourage young readers to challenge bigotry’ Guardian