by Liz Trenow
‘It must have been difficult for you today, when we found Jimmy,’ he said.
She took a gulp of wine. ‘When Tubby told me there was a man in the hospital I thought for a moment, just a very brief moment, that it might have been my husband. And when I learned that your Jimmy was in the same regiment . . .’
‘The Suffolks?’
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
‘My regiment too. What was his name, if you don’t mind me asking?’
She took a deep breath. Curiously, it didn’t hurt so much as she’d feared. In fact, pronouncing it gave her a deep sense of pride. She loved him, always would. ‘Bertie. Private Albert Barton.’
It was as though she’d given him an electric shock. Joseph slapped a hand to his brow. ‘Bertie Barton? Great heavens!’
‘You knew him?’ Her heart leapt. What a strange and wonderful coincidence.
‘My goodness. I’m so sorry he didn’t make it.’ She noticed his hand trembling as he picked up his glass. ‘He was one of the best.’
‘You knew my Bertie?’ She could scarcely believe it.
‘No, not really, although I wish I had. He was the bravest man I knew. I owe him my life.’
Was she dreaming? ‘Tell me, what happened?’
Ruby found herself hardly daring to breathe as he began to speak. ‘We were out on a recce. It was a dark night, perfect for it, and I had the best men with me, people I knew and trusted completely. But someone stumbled on an unexploded shell and the next moment all hell broke loose. I got a piece of shrapnel through the eye and into my brain, and I was pretty much out of it. All I remember is trying not to moan too much or Fritz would come over and finish us all off.’ Joseph paused, wiped his brow with a napkin and took a sip of his wine.
‘I must have passed out because the next thing I knew it was daylight and some crazy idiot was lying next to me in the mud, whispering in my ear. “Shut up you so-and-so,” although it was a bit riper than that, you understand? “Just shut up for a moment so we can get you back without getting us both killed.”’
‘That was my Bertie?’
He smiled. ‘The very same. He had what I’d call a highly developed vocabulary.’
She laughed, fondly remembering the inventive curses Bertie used to come out with.
‘But by Christ that man was brave,’ Joseph went on. ‘He’d crawled out through the mud across no-man’s land in broad daylight to save me. No one in their right mind would do that, but he did.’
‘So how did he get you back?’
‘He pulled me, very, very slowly, inch by inch, till we got to a hollow, and we stayed there till it got dark. I was pretty delirious by this time but he had water and rum, which quietened me down a little. I just remember him telling me to hang on in there, how we were going to make it, and when we got home how he was going to treat me to several beers at his local.’
‘The King’s Head?’
‘That’s the one. And how there were so many beautiful girls there . . .’
‘Cheeky so-and-so.’ She could hear Bertie saying it. ‘What happened in the end?’
‘He dragged me back to the trench and handed me over to the stretcher bearers, telling me to give his love to Blighty when I got there. He called me a “lucky bastard” – those were his last words to me – although anyone could see that my head was all smashed in and my eye was missing and I don’t suppose anyone thought I’d make it. But his words gave me hope and all through my recovery I thought of him, telling me that I was lucky. I had to prove him right. And I am lucky. I’m alive, and we’ve just found my brother. What more could a man ask for? And it’s all thanks to your Bertie.’
She could not speak for the lump in her throat, but in any case how could she adequately thank this man for the gift he had just given her: a final, wonderful, lasting memory of her funny, loving husband, who had put his life in mortal danger to save one of his fellow soldiers? The tears began, big fat drops falling silently from her eyes. She sniffed and fumbled in her handbag. ‘Sorry, so sorry. I must look a mess.’
‘Don’t apologise. I understand.’ From his pocket he produced a pristine white linen handkerchief. ‘Here, will this help?’
‘I’m crying with happiness, really. What you’ve just told me about Bertie means the world to me. I cannot thank you enough.’
She imagined the moment of sharing the news with Bertie’s parents. She might even invite Joseph to meet them so he could tell them in person; a living testament to Bertie’s extraordinary courage. They would be so proud. Ivy would weep, but the knowledge of her son’s bravery would sustain her in the future, help her eventually to recover. Albert would bluster to hide his emotions but would relish recounting the story to friends at the bridge club and on the golf course: ‘My Bertie saved a man’s life, you know. He was a hero.’
As for herself, she would cherish this knowledge forever. It was better than any gravestone, any words of memorial.
31
ALICE
Alice slipped off her heels and crept past the reception desk at the Hotel de la Paix.
It was late, well after eleven, although for once she hadn’t heard the bells. Consumed with humiliation and anguish, she scarcely noticed anything as she fled down the street from The Grand. Tiptoeing up to her room, she tried to avoid the creakiest stairs and floorboards, and managed to turn the key without its usual clunk.
Everything was just the same as she had left it only a few hours ago: muddy clothes strewn across the bed along with a damp, grubby towel, dusty shoes discarded in the corner, her partly unpacked suitcase still overflowing its unruly contents over the floor.
Dismayed by this scene of disarray, she nearly missed the note.
Dear Alice,
Hope you had a nice evening. Freddie’s offered to take us back to Ostend in the ambulance, leaving eight o’clock in the morning. I hope this is okay with you? Mme. Vermeulen is making breakfast picnics and says we can settle up in the morning.
Love, Ruby
On the dressing table lay the small bunch of flowers from Lazyhook. Moving almost automatically, she spread out the wilting blooms, placed them between a folded page of blotter and weighted it with the Bible from the bedside drawer, leaning on it with an elbow for a moment. Then she pulled away, horrified. It was like pressing down on a grave. A powerful wave of grief crashed over her, leaving her almost breathless.
Sam was gone, forever. The earth pressing down.
Now, all she faced was the dismal prospect of leaving this place, this place that belonged to him, of journeying back to Ostend and being reunited with those gloomy couples on the Thomas Cook tour, then travelling to London and having to admit to Julia how right she’d been to warn her: Don’t for heaven’s sake fall in love with him all over again. Promise?
Yet that was exactly what she had so foolishly done, and everything had gone so badly wrong. She’d allowed herself to become caught up in the whirlwind of Daniel’s magic as though it could somehow replace her sorrow with something wonderful. Along the line she’d lost touch with reality, imagining that he was serious about her. How could she have been so stupid?
She felt used and somehow dirty, and yet she still wanted him, or at least the idea of him. His smell was still on her and she breathed it in greedily, Gitane cigarettes mixed with the cologne that he splashed onto his face after shaving. The confusion was overwhelming.
Whatever had happened to the old Alice, the self-assured young woman who came to Flanders with all the confidence in the world, who’d rekindled that old flame never imagining for one moment that it might be she who would get burned? The sobs tightened in her throat and shook her shoulders with paroxysms of tears; great wracking howls she couldn’t control.
There was a soft knock at the door. ‘Alice?’ She gulped and tried to speak normally. ‘I got your note, thanks. That’s all fine. See you in the morning.’
‘You’re not fine. I can hear you crying.’
‘Please, Ruby. Jus
t go away,’ she croaked.
‘You’re obviously upset. Let me in.’
She sighed, wiped her face on her sleeve and opened the door.
‘Goodness, whatever happened to you?’
‘Long story.’ Alice slumped onto the bed, resting her head in her hands.
‘I’m listening.’
‘Pa got confirmation from the Canadians that Sam died at a field hospital and we went there this afternoon.’
‘Heavens! I’m so sorry. Where’s “there”? And who’s “we”? I haven’t seen you since yesterday morning. Start at the beginning.’
‘Hang on a sec.’ Alice went to the cabinet and took out the half-full bottle of brandy. ‘I need a drink. What about you?’ She rinsed two tooth mugs in the sink and poured an inch into both of them, relishing the way the fiery liquid burned her throat. Then she began.
She’d reached the part where Daniel helped her find her brother’s grave when she faltered, hating the sound of her own half-truths; describing a dignified, reverential moment at the graveside, supported by the man she loved. How could she admit that she had fallen to her knees and howled, prostrating herself in the mud? Or that Daniel, irritated and impatient to get out of the rain, had rushed her away as soon as he possibly could? How, after that, she had cravenly sought the comfort of his bed, only to be rejected like a plaything of which he had become bored?
‘Oh God, Ruby. I’ve been such a fool over Daniel.’
‘Don’t blame yourself, Alice. I’ve made some terrible mistakes in the past, too.’
Alice looked up. ‘Ah, yes, I remember. Your one-night stand. What a pair we are.’
‘A pair of blooming idiots,’ Ruby said, laughing.
Alice poured more brandy. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t find your Bertie, Ruby.’
Ruby sighed. ‘I know. But I’m still really glad I came. More than I ever imagined. You’ll never guess . . .’
‘What’s that?’
‘Tonight I learned that Bertie saved a man’s life.’
‘My goodness! How amazing. How d’you find out?’
‘The man he saved is right here in the hotel,’ Ruby said, beaming. ‘He’s Joseph Catchpole, the eye-patch man from the train, whose brother turned up at the hospital. I had dinner with him tonight, and we discovered the connection.’
‘Woah, slow down. The man with the eye patch is here? The man with the tour group in Ostend? You’re gonna have to start at the beginning.’
Ruby recounted how she and Tubby had telegrammed Jimmy’s family, and how his brother Joseph and fiancée Edith turned up, and what Joseph had told her over dinner.
‘Phew. That is really something. What a hero. You must be so proud.’
‘You cannot imagine just how proud. It means the world to me.’ As Ruby smiled Alice could see how the grief, the mask that had always seemed to shadow her face, had lifted. The meek, mousy girl she first met had flowered into a pretty young woman, glowing not only from the brandy but with some kind of inner strength that hadn’t been there before.
‘You were so kind to that Swiss woman, you and Freddie,’ she said now. ‘I felt so ratty afterwards, refusing to help her that day.’
‘Ginger told us how you rescued her from that man who stole her deposit when his wife pulled a knife on her. She said you’d been very generous, giving her money, too.’
‘It was what anyone would have done. She was in real danger from those vile people. And you were right, you know, about helping fellow human beings. I was wrong.’
‘But you were right too about one thing, Alice. It turns out she is German after all. The nephew she was looking for is actually her son. I know you suspected it all along.’
Alice was too weary to feel angry any more. ‘I ruddy knew it, you know. Lying cow.’
‘She’s just a mother trying to do her best, not so different from us,’ Ruby went on. ‘Now all she wants is a better future for her sons.’
‘Sons? I thought the other one had died.’
‘When we took her to Langemarck some men she met told her that her elder son was taken prisoner of war.’
‘My God.’ Alice drained her glass, her emotions churning, trying to process this latest twist. ‘That really takes the biscuit. Why did it have to be one of the bad guys who got to have a future? Why not Sam, or Bertie?’
‘I feel the same. But you can’t spend the rest of your life feeling bitter, can you?’
‘You’re right. I guess we ought to feel pleased for her.’ Alice sighed, picking up the bottle and peering through the heavy brown glass. It was nearly empty. ‘Just enough for a little snifter each. One more for the road?’
‘I don’t think so, thanks.’ Ruby stifled a yawn. ‘It’s only a few hours before we have to get up again.’
‘What’s this about Freddie taking us to Ostend?’
‘He’s driving the ambulance back to England and on the way he’ll give Martha and Otto a lift to catch their train in Ypres. He’s asked me to go along because it’s easier to have someone changing gear, at least for most of the journey. Can you forgive her enough to share a ride with them?’
‘Oh hell,’ Alice found herself saying. ‘Why not give it a whirl?’
32
MARTHA, ALICE & RUBY
Martha could tell it was morning by the chinks of light coming through the cracks in the corrugated iron. The knock came again, and the sound of Freddie’s voice.
She shook her slumbering son by the shoulder and went to unbolt the doors; the sun had already risen, the sky was blue and the air bright and refreshing as though last night’s downpour had washed it clean. Three smiling faces greeted her: Freddie with a bucket of steaming hot water, Ruby with a brown paper bag that she thrust into Martha’s hand. The American woman spoke in good French: ‘There’s water for washing, and food and drink for your breakfast on the train. We’ll wait out here while you get ready.’
She returned to the ambulance, handing Otto the bucket. ‘Here, wash your face. And look’ – she peered into the paper bag – ‘there’s apples, bread and pastries to eat on our way.’
*
‘Shall I travel in back with them?’ Alice asked, as they waited outside. ‘There’s not room for all of us up front and Freddie will need you to change gear.’
Ruby looked at her, eyebrows questioning.
In the dark, sleepless hours, Alice had determined that it was time to make peace; the one small act of redemption she could achieve before leaving Belgium was to present a friendly face to the German woman.
‘You can’t go on hating people for what is passed, can you?’ she said.
‘Good for you.’ Ruby’s smile was genuine. Alice felt forgiven.
They folded the blankets onto the bunks to make them more comfortable for sitting on, and rolled up the canvas at the rear so that they could see out. Alice clambered into the back with Martha and Otto; Ruby sat next to Freddie in the cab. Then, with some grinding of gears, several bunny hops and much laughter from the front they were on their way, watching the road unfurl behind them and the little town of Hoppestadt recede into the distance.
‘Are you looking forward to going home, Otto?’ Alice asked. The boy nudged his mother.
‘I am sorry, he does not understand French,’ Martha said. ‘Only the few words I taught him.’
‘But you speak it so fluently.’
Martha’s smile was gracious. ‘Many years ago I worked as a nanny for a family in the Swiss Alps. And I taught French at a college in Berlin.’
‘A teacher?’ Alice was impressed.
‘Not any more. The college closed.’ Her eyes darkened. ‘Berlin is not the place it once was. But to answer your question, we are of course very excited to be going home. Perhaps you know that we have some hopeful news about my son, Heinrich?’
Alice nodded, forcing as gracious a smile as she could muster. She couldn’t help feeling bitter. How much more deserving of a future life were Sam, who went to fight for the love of his girl, or Bertie,
the hero who saved a man’s life? But watching Martha’s face infused with joy as she talked about her beloved son and her hopes that they would find him alive, it was difficult to begrudge a mother such happiness. The suffering previously so clearly etched in every crease and frown line had lifted; she looked ten years younger.
‘We have been warned that he is unwell,’ Martha said, tapping her head. ‘There is a long road ahead of us.’
‘Have you no husband, or other family to help you?’
‘My husband is dead. I have a brother, but he lives far away. In your country.’
‘In the US? Whereabouts?’
‘In Chicago. He is an engineer.’
‘The windy city. I went there once with my father. It’s a great place. Have you visited?’
Martha shook her head. ‘Since the war he has not replied to my letters.’
Immediately Alice understood: he would have been arrested and interned as an enemy alien, heaven knows where. She chose her words carefully. ‘I am afraid that America did not treat your people very well during the war. Many lost their jobs and were sent to live in secure camps.’
‘So my brother may have been taken away and never had the chance to tell me? How will I ever find him again?’
‘I’ll do my best to trace him for you when I get home,’ Alice said. ‘Please don’t worry. My father is an influential man and has good contacts. Here.’ She handed over her notebook, opened at an empty page. ‘Write his name and his last address. Your address, too.’ Then she took out her wallet and found the five twenty-dollar notes that she’d secreted for emergencies. When Martha returned the diary she tore out another empty page, folded the notes into it, and wrote her own address on the front. ‘This may help with what you need for your son’s recovery. Or if you ever want to visit America.’
Martha unfolded the paper, gasped quietly and refolded it. ‘No. This is too much. I cannot take it.’ Her eyes were bright with tears.
Alice pushed her hand away. ‘It is the least I can do.’