‘I need to be going,’ Lavinia told them, drinking it down rapidly, ‘but I’m relieved to see you much better.’
‘How’s Captain Shenwood now?’ James asked urgently.
She was slow answering. ‘He’s not recovering as well as we hoped,’ she said cautiously. ‘I’m sure he’d appreciate a visit if you get the chance.’ She took her leave of them.
James looked at Florence. ‘It’s wonderful to see you,’ he said. ‘How do you come to be here in France?’ His face had changed while he had been serving as an orderly, and it was not just the moustache. He looked more alert now, and she supposed he had spent months facing danger, like the other men.
‘I thought I should visit you,’ she said. Will he think me presumptuous or foolish?
‘Did you? You came all this way to see me? It’s hardly a holiday resort out here.’
‘I know – it’s been humbling, travelling near the battlefields. But ever since you were injured, helping Captain Shenwood so bravely, I felt I owed you a huge apology for my criticism of you. I don’t know how I could have been such a judgemental prig.’
He smiled. ‘Lots of others have said the same about me not joining a fighting unit.’
He asked about her journey, and she told him she had come on Lavinia’s bike, omitting the part about being sick.
‘The other patients are looking this way,’ James said. ‘They’re envious. They’ll want to know who you are. They asked me recently if I had a girl at home and I told them you’re an old friend who sometimes writes, but I said there was no-one serious.’
She did not know what to say.
‘I daresay you care for me a little, having come all this way.’
She smiled. ‘I do care for you, James.’
He took her hand and sat holding it, a contented grin on his face. ‘How’s Larchbury these days? My parents say life goes on normally and make it sound like a little oasis of peace.’
‘It’s much the same – no, it’s different.’ She struggled to explain. ‘On the face of it, there’s still market day, and there are the same shops, and children attend school just as before. But women have taken men’s jobs in many shops, and in the inn.’
‘That was already happening before I left.’
‘Some women even work on the land now. And there have been so many losses.’ It was shocking how many families were in mourning. There had been two more cases of flu, too, one of them fatal. She did not want to upset him. ‘We’re struggling to keep cheerful. Your father says we must have faith.’ She did not dare ask if James thought the war might end soon, for there had been so many over-optimistic pronouncements.
‘He sent you a notebook,’ she added, taking it out of her bag. In the drama of her visit she had almost forgotten to deliver it.
‘That’s kind of him – I’ve nearly finished my present one.’
What’s he using them for, she wondered – writing down instructions he’s been given for his work as an orderly?
After a while staff began helping the patients out of the dayroom. ‘It’s nearly time for our meal,’ he told her. ‘I’m afraid they’ll want you to leave. I have to abide by the rules – it’s not as though I’m dangerously ill. Where will you stay tonight?’
‘When Emily comes off duty she’s going to take me to the inn.’
‘Will you come to see me in the morning?’ he asked urgently. ‘After eleven is best, when the ward rounds are over.’
‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ she assured him. When he pressed her further she was vague, not wanting to reveal that she had no idea how she would return to the coast.
He kissed her hand softly and clung to it for a few moments longer. ‘I can’t tell you how thrilled I am that you came,’ he said.
He let go of her hand and she headed for the staircase, light-hearted at having brightened his day. She returned to the lobby to wait for Emily.
Chapter Ten
Flanders, July
Emily took Florence to the inn and, in halting French, arranged for her to take a meal and stay overnight. ‘Lavinia gave me a ride once on that motorbike,’ Emily said. ‘I can see only too well why you wouldn’t choose to go on it if you get travel sick.’
‘You used to be at the same hospital as Lavinia?’
‘Yes, we were near Arras, then at Ypres until they evacuated us. I was at that hospital near the coast with Lavinia, but then they sent me here with Sister Reed. Now, about tomorrow – I’ll do my best to find you a lift to the station. If it’s difficult to arrange will you be able to stay another night? Have you got enough money?’
‘I think so.’ Florence was not sure how much she might need to pay to travel by train. Once more she panicked. Emily and Lavinia are doing vital war work, she thought. They shouldn’t be expected to deal with the consequences of my impetuous decision to come here.
* * *
Next morning Florence made her way back towards the hospital. It was another hot day, with little planes occasionally appearing overhead and the usual sounds of artillery to the south.
Soon she reached the casino. In the dayroom two raucous card games were taking place but James was sitting on his own, reading some kind of magazine. The sun was shining through the Art Nouveau glasswork, creating bright red and blue patterns on the floor.
A broad smile lit up his face when he saw Florence.
‘The men have kept asking me how I’ve attracted such a pretty girl as a visitor,’ he told her. She blushed. ‘How was your room at the inn?’
‘It was fine.’ It had been small but clean, and the food, though a little sparse, was well-cooked.
‘I sometimes try to imagine what it must have been like here before the war,’ he told her. ‘I envy Edmond, who was able to travel then. They say Flanders was once a lovely area.’
‘It was. I came to France once with my parents and we passed through Flanders on our way south.’
‘Many towns in the area have sustained damage now, and much of the countryside is devastated too. In some places there’s still a bell tower which is undamaged. They play their carillon every Sunday. Each one has its own tune. It’s wonderful to hear one.’
‘Amy told me it’s bad around Ypres, in Belgium.’ The Belgian refugees she knew were anxious about their homeland.
‘We had to fall back from that area when the Huns began their spring offensive,’ he told her.
She wondered once more how long the war would continue and then how many years it might take to restore Flanders to its previous tranquillity. But she did not want to spend her time with James agonising about the future. She was thankful when an orderly brought around mugs of tea for everyone, interrupting their gloomy conversation.
‘What’s that you were reading when I came in?’ she asked curiously, looking at the magazine which looked scrappily produced.
‘Have you heard of The Wipers Times?’
‘No.’
‘The name refers to Ypres, of course. That’s where some officers discovered an abandoned printing press and began to produce a newspaper. There haven’t been any new editions recently, but some old copies are still circulating.’
‘May I see it?’
‘Better not – it’s, well, a bit indelicate. There’s bad language and it’s quite crude in places. It’s funny, though, and that helps us keep going out here.’
‘I understand.’ She blushed. On the cover of the magazine was a cartoon of a tall, snooty-looking officer with a bristling moustache. ‘That looks like Colonel Fairlawn,’ she said.
He laughed. ‘You’re right.’ They both remembered his determination to make Amy face the consequences of writing Suffragette slogans in the cricket pavilion.
A young man limped into the room and sat in a chair nearby. His khaki tunic had a badge with wings.
‘I’m sure I’ve seen that chap in Larchbury,’ Florence whispered.
‘The airman? That’s Philip Brownlee,’ James told her. He hailed their friend, who came awkwardly to sit in
a chair at their table.
‘Philip was injured on a training flight,’ James explained.
‘I came in to land and the ground rushed up and hit me.’ The fair-haired young man, not long out of public school, smiled ruefully.
He can hardly have been abroad for more than a few weeks and already he’s wounded, Florence thought.
‘I’m nearly well enough to leave here,’ Philip told her brightly. ‘I’m longing to start flying again. When you get home, tell my parents you’ve seen me, won’t you? Reassure them I’m nearly good as new. And the same, if you should see Alice Shenwood. She’s writing to me – I love to get her letters.’
‘Alice? Is she Charles’s sister?’ Florence asked. She had met Charles, at parties at The Beeches, but did not know Alice.
‘His younger sister.’
‘If I visit Charles in hospital I’ll tell him I’ve seen you,’ said James.
A nurse came in and began to check that the men were comfortable. Florence got the impression she was one of the senior staff, probably a sister.
‘After you with The Wipers Times,’ Philip requested.
‘By all means. I’ve nearly finished it.’ James turned to Florence. ‘The magazine is often critical of the top brass. They tried to close it down, but there was an outcry. Since the offensive has stopped them producing it they try to confiscate old copies, but we won’t let them, because it keeps up our spirits.’
The sister appeared suddenly at her side, peering from behind her glasses. ‘And who might you be?’ she demanded of Florence.
‘I’ve come to visit Orderly Fletcher,’ she replied as calmly as she could.
‘I wasn’t aware anyone was planning to visit him. He’s not seriously ill. Are you one of his family?’
‘I’m just a friend,’ she faltered.
‘Florence Clifford is a close friend of my cousin, Amy Derwent,’ James explained with a confident air. ‘I’m thankful to see her, Sister Reed.’
‘Amy Derwent, who used to work at the hospital near Arras?’
‘Yes, that’s her.’ She wondered whether to mention Beth, but suspected the sister had little time to chat.
‘She was almost as headstrong as Nurse Westholme,’ Sister Reed remarked. ‘But she was a devoted nurse.’ She looked Florence up and down and seemed to conclude that she was respectable. ‘Well, Miss Clifford, make sure you don’t disrupt our work here, for we’re all frantically busy.’
‘I promise I won’t cause any trouble.’
‘And don’t encourage any friends to make unannounced visits here. This isn’t a holiday resort.’
‘No, Sister. I’ll make that clear when I get home.’
As Sister Reed hurried away James gave back their mugs to an orderly. ‘The doctor examined me this morning,’ he told Florence. ‘He says I’m fit to start work again, so I’ll get my marching orders soon. It’s as well you came this week.’
She felt dizzy at the idea of him going back into the fray. ‘Must you return already?’
‘Don’t look so shocked. I want to get back to doing my duty.’ He smiled at her and took her hand.
Philip picked up The Wipers Times. Florence wished him well as he got up to go out to the balcony with it.
‘He’s a brave young chap,’ James said.
‘Where do you think they’ll send you when you’re fit?’ Florence asked.
‘I may be posted down towards the fighting along the Somme,’ James said, ‘but it’s quite likely I’ll be helping out in hospitals well away from the battles.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
‘We’re allowed to dispense drugs and perform lots of tasks that don’t need advanced medical skills, like recording details of the men as they arrive at hospital. Sometimes I chat to a badly wounded man, maybe help him write to his family. The men deserve support like that but the medical staff find it hard to spare the time.’
‘That’s so worthwhile.’
He looked confused. ‘My idea of being an orderly hasn’t entirely allowed me to uphold my principles. I’m not actually fighting, but I’m helping other men to recover, and then they’re sent back to fight.’
She drew her breath. ‘Surely you don’t regret helping them?’
‘No, that would be very wrong. Sometimes I still wonder if I should have refused to serve at all but once I was here I knew I had to help the wounded. And it’s hard to explain to them how I feel. If I tell soldiers they shouldn’t be here it sounds as though I’m belittling all the courage they show under fire.’
She began to understand his principles. She wanted to know what he planned to do when the war ended, but that day being so elusive, she did not ask.
Emily bustled into the room. ‘Hello, Florence. I’ve found some transport for you. There’s an ambulance going to the coast, with space for you to travel on board, but you’ll need to leave in half an hour.’
‘Oh – I hoped I’d have longer.’
‘I don’t know when there’ll be another chance. There aren’t any other ambulances scheduled to take men that way today.’
James squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll be sorry to see you leave, but you’d better grab the transport.’
She arranged to meet Emily downstairs when it was nearly time to go.
‘You’ll go on writing, won’t you?’ he said, turning his grey eyes on her pleadingly.
‘Yes, of course. And make sure you reply promptly!’
‘I love getting your letters, and Amy’s, and ones from my parents, of course.’
They fell quiet as it was nearly time for her to leave. How uncertain the future still was. As she stood up to go he got up and followed her out to the top of the staircase.
‘Do be sure not to take unnecessary risks,’ she begged. ‘And let me know when you’re coming home on leave.’ She did not want to depart.
‘I will.’ He took her arm. ‘May I kiss you goodbye?’
She raised her face to his and he kissed her gently. She lingered for a few moments, until another soldier left the dayroom and whistled at the sight of them.
‘Stay in touch!’ he called after her as she dragged herself away. As she went down the large staircase it occurred to her that she had been appalled at the idea that he might be serving near the Front again. Only a few months before, she had been urging him to do his duty there. And as for that kiss – she had thought she would never kiss a man again after losing Bertie, but now she had, and felt elated.
* * *
Emily was waiting in the lobby. ‘The ambulance isn’t quite ready yet,’ she said. ‘Come with me quickly to the dining room and I’ll get a sandwich for you.’
Once there Florence could only nibble at the food, anxious not to risk further sickness. She drank another mug of army tea, wishy washy as usual. Then she went and collected her overnight bag from where she had left it with Claudette.
‘I managed to phone Lavinia’s hospital and leave a message that you’ve found transport,’ Emily said. ‘You’ll be travelling with some Americans.’ They went out to the back of the casino and headed for a waiting ambulance.
‘Americans?’ She had never met anyone from the United States.
‘They’re fighting further east, but one of their casualties ended up here, so they’ve come to collect him.’
She led Florence to the vehicle, which had the words American Field Service along the side. Orderlies were transferring a casualty into the back. An officer was standing at the front, smoking. He looked relaxed and vigorous, the way British young men had looked in 1914 as they enlisted, imagining the war was a huge adventure not to be missed. ‘Warrant Officer Fawcett? This is Florence Clifford, who needs to travel to the coast.’
The officer put out his cigarette and shook her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ He was tall and wearing a khaki uniform hardly different from those worn by the British. What a strong accent he had!
A nurse appeared from around the back. ‘Sister Jenkins?’ Emily said. ‘This is my friend, Florence. Take g
ood care of her.’
‘We sure will.’ Her accent was almost as hard to understand. She was plump and middle-aged, which reassured Florence, who for a moment had imagined she might have to travel in an ambulance full of men.
‘Florence occasionally gets travel sick – may she go in front with the driver?’
‘Very well.’
‘Are you going to Boulogne?’ she asked the sister.
‘We’ll drop Private Staines and the other casualties there, then go on to Le Havre to collect some fresh medical men arriving on a troopship.’ She went to check that the new patient was settled in the back.
‘Let’s go,’ she told the others a minute later.
‘Give my love to Amy,’ said Emily.
Florence hugged her and thanked her for her help. Warrant Officer Fawcett helped her up into the front of the vehicle, and Sister Jenkins climbed up next to her. The officer cranked the engine. When he took his place in the driving seat they were packed quite tightly. He started the ambulance, turned it carefully and drove along the side of the casino and into the main road. He began to gather speed and soon they had left the town behind.
‘Our men are fighting along the Marne,’ the sister told her. ‘But Private Staines got badly injured in a road accident on his way there and his unit had to leave him behind. He’s been in a British hospital until recently, then spent a fortnight here convalescing.’
The driver looked around. ‘You all right, Miss Florence?’
The state of the road still bothered her. ‘I don’t feel the bumps quite so much as on my friend’s motorbike,’ she said. How she would hate to feel sick perched here between the driver and the sister.
Before long they turned on to another road. They were taking a different route from the one Lavinia had used, travelling across a wooded area. The road was generally in a better state than the previous one, and the ambulance less prone to juddering over humps than the bike had been. It was another hot afternoon.
After about an hour she was only feeling faintly sick. She was relieved when they stopped by the roadside and the sister went to the back to check the welfare of the men and pour them drinks of water. The driver got out, helped Florence down and passed her a mug of water. He offered her a cigarette, which she refused, before lighting one himself. She followed him into a patch of shade beneath the trees.
Until the War is Over Page 12