A Rose In Flanders Fields (36 page)

‘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.

‘I was pretty surprised to see him, I must say,’ he said. ‘He certainly knows how to use his contacts to good effect.’

‘I wish he was having the same luck with Oli,’ I said. ‘I’m so glad he found you though, we were all so worried you might send that wire.’

‘Aye, it was a close run thing, a couple of hours to spare. And it was good to see him in any case. I’ve not seen him in a long time, we communicate by letter, mostly.’

‘You’re very alike,’ I said, studying him again. ‘I can’t think why I didn’t notice it when I first saw you.’

‘You had Lizzy and Will to think about.’ He paused, then cleared his throat. ‘How is Will, by the way?’

‘He’s…uh, he’s well,’ I managed, but my voice wobbled and a moment later Archie was on his feet and around the table.

He knelt at my side. ‘Come on, Evangelastica, he’ll be absolutely fine, try not to worry, it’s not fair on him.’ The way his words echoed Will’s own plea struck me; I had also used the same argument, when Mother had been so worried about Lawrence. How could I now dismiss it?

‘He wants me to leave him.’

‘I see,’ he said carefully.

‘Should I?’ I looked at Archie, pleading with him to tell me no.

‘Do you want to?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Do you think you should?’ That was the wrong question. I struggled to find a reply that wouldn’t rip my heart right out of my chest, but couldn’t find one. I nodded. Archie didn’t say anything, but stood up and drew me up with him. I looked up at the kind, handsome face, echoes of Jack Carlisle in the strong bone structure making him seem even dearer and more dependable than ever. His strength seemed to flow through his hands as he held me to him, and it was so like leaning against Uncle Jack that I unthinkingly let myself relax against him.

After a moment I became aware of his breath stirring my hair, and that his heartbeat was heavier beneath my cheek. His head moved slightly as if he were about to speak, and I pulled back, remembering who he was, and who he was not. I was being unfair.

‘Nothing’s changed,’ I said, searching his tired grey eyes, looking for understanding in their depths.

‘I know, darling.’ He kissed my forehead. I missed the feeling of being cherished, but what I felt for Archie Buchanan was the wrong kind of love. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. And I didn’t know if I was sorry for wanting to accept his love, or sorry for rejecting it, but he nodded.

‘Aye. Me too.’

‘There’s something else. He wants me to…he doesn’t want me to be alone.’

‘I can understand that.’

‘He likes you.’

Archie looked at me for a long, quiet moment, then nodded. ‘You can tell him whatever will give him the most peace.’

‘Thank you. I mean it, you’re the dearest –’

‘Friend. I know.’ He smiled and squeezed my hand. ‘Write to him now, Evie. Give him what he needs.’

Voices heralded the return of the others, and Archie stepped away as Boxy came in brandishing a bunch of wild flowers and looking for a jar to put them in. I turned on my brightest smile and put the water on to boil for Bovril, and Archie exchanged a few words with Elise and the new girls before picking up his cap.

‘I’m away now, ladies. Thanks for the hospitality. Be sure and let us know if you’re in need of anything. Supplies, mechanics, extra hands, wine.’ He said that last with a wink at me, and grinned, but those lovely eyes were shadowed still. As we said our goodbyes he brushed my cheek in a gentle kiss. ‘Take care of yourself, Evie. And please tell young Kittlington I’m thinking of her.’ Again, I detected a tremble in his voice, and there was a tightness in his fingers where they closed on my arms. Then he was gone, and in front of me lay the awful task of writing my final letter to my husband.

I kept it short; I wanted a swift cut, as painless as possible. Which is to say it only hurt like the slice of a blade for a few moments, and then it subsided to a deep, low throb that nevertheless eclipsed any pain I’d ever known.

My dearest Will

I hated to read your words, but hate even more to be a burden to you. I once told my mother the same thing as you have told me; that it is a weight on your heart you would better be without if you are to give your full attention to survival. As you wish then, I will stop writing to you and will no longer come to see you when on leave. I cannot keep fighting two wars at once, so I write to tell you that you have won. The next time I am in England I will begin divorce proceedings.

I will take such support as I find here, and Archie is a dear friend and keen to comfort.

E.

I placed the letter in the pile on the little table by the door, and by the next morning it was gone, and Will would soon know he was free.

After breakfast Elise, Boxy and I set to work preparing the cellar, and when the mail arrived there was sad news from Pervyse. Even Boxy was silenced as she digested it.

‘Poor little Mairi Chisholm’s fiancé was killed,’ Elise said as she flicked out the end of one of the sheets Frances had donated.

I caught it and we pulled it tight between us. ‘I didn’t know she was engaged.’

‘It was a private thing. Dorothie told me last week, but you’re not to say it around.’

‘Poor child. Mrs Knocker must be a great strength to her, at least.’

‘She’s not there, apparently. Mairi was alone, so Dorothie’s been staying with her.’

Dorothie Feilding thought even less of Mrs Knocker than I did, particularly after Elsie had published her memoir. Dorothie had really been incensed by the whole thing. I’d not read the book myself and so couldn’t comment, but the consensus was that it was very much a story of how Elsie Knocker, now a Baroness, was the bravest woman at the Front. Mairi was so sweet, and every bit as brave, and it was a terrible shame to learn of her bereavement.

‘How did he die?’

‘It was the most awful thing,’ Elise said, scanning her letter. ‘Apparently his machine came down with engine trouble, when he was flying over the aerodrome.’

I caught her eye and jerked my head towards Boxy, who had paled. ‘What freakish bad luck,’ I stressed.

Elise cleared her throat. ‘Well, yes. That sort of thing can’t be at all common.’

‘You needn’t be careful on my account,’ Boxy said. ‘Benjy and I talk about the likelihood of things going wrong all the time. If you talk about it, it stops being such a worry somehow.’

I could see that wasn’t entirely true, but didn’t push the matter. ‘Poor Mairi,’ I said again, and we worked in silence for a while. Thinking about the little Scots girl at Pervyse, and what she was going through, helped convince me I had done the right thing. If I heard something had happened to Will, my cutting him loose would not soothe me in the slightest, but it would help him if he believed me to be taking comfort elsewhere. I pictured him reading the letter, tucked into his awful little funk-hole, or sprawled out with his division in the fields further back, and I imagined the burden of care lifting from his shoulders. Yes, I had done the right thing.

So why did it feel as though my life had disintegrated?

Over the next few days I got back into the swing of things, and it was a relief to be distracted, even by a seemingly endless stream of trench foot cases, and heavy lice infestations. However, once my stitches were checked and pronounced to be “doing the job nicely”, I went back to driving. It was a relief to be away from the cottage, and to have something to take my mind off both Will and Oliver and, although the work was grim and our contribution often felt inadequate, I seized every chance to work. Boxy and I fell into our old routine easily; we had always worked well together and it was a deep and genuine pleasure to have her back. And Boxy was happy to take her car right up to the lines and then let me know if it was worth me taking my bus up, or if it was better relying on the horse-drawns.