A Rose In Flanders Fields (40 page)

Archie shook his head. ‘Look, I understand, but think for a minute. There’s a push on, you’ll not get anywhere near him.’

I pulled away and yanked on the door, pulling it open. ‘I don’t care, I’m going anyway. As soon as I’ve checked on Boxy.’

I walked into the stale warmth of the ward and flinched. No matter how much cleaning went on, nothing could disguise the mingled reek of disinfectant and decay, and I automatically began to breathe through my mouth again, longing to be back out in the fresh, cool April air, and on my way.

I would see Boxy for a minute or two, explain where I was going, then leave her to rest. If I left now I should reach Arras well before teatime, even on the terrible roads and with stops along the way. I would not sit by and let Will fall out of my life. I needed him, and, more importantly, I needed him to know it. If it put pressure on him, that was just too bad; he’d only be the same as every other man out there.

These thoughts whirled through my mind in the time it took for me to adjust to the gloom in the ward, get my bearings, and look over towards where I had last seen Boxy. The nursing sister who was stripping the bed saw me, shook her head slightly and turned away. I stared at her for a moment, at the empty bed, at the little dolly bag hanging at its end. Her things. It must have happened just moments ago.

Archie came into the ward behind me and followed my stunned gaze. ‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,’ he said softly. I couldn’t answer; numb from the heart outwards, my lips would not move, nor my brain comprehend what had happened. She had been here, now she was gone. Her lively chatter, sometimes interesting, often exasperating, but always welcome, had been silenced. I struggled for something that would help me understand, but found nothing.

‘I have to go,’ was all I managed to repeat in the end, and those pathetic words came out strangled and small. Dimly, through a strange rushing, roaring sound, I heard Archie pleading with me to wait, to talk. But wait for what? Talk about what? I felt my head shaking ‘no’ although I wasn’t aware of making it do so. I felt my legs moving, although it didn’t feel as though I had enough strength to make them do so. Everything I did felt as though some ghastly puppeteer was above me, jerking my limbs in a dance to some discordant music only they could hear.

‘You can’t save everyone,’ Archie was saying now, and his voice filtered clearly through the din. I turned to look at him, and saw only genuine sorrow; he hadn’t meant to sound harsh.

‘I know,’ I said bleakly. ‘But I used to think I could save those I loved, at least.’

‘You can. You have.’

‘No. I’ve let them all down. First Lizzy, then Kitty and Oli, and now Boxy. I can’t destroy Will too.’

‘Don’t go. Please.’

‘You can tell Uncle Jack if he asks, but not until I’ve had the chance to get well away. He’ll only come after me and he’s needed here.’

‘Wait!’ Archie caught up as I walked away. ‘All right, if you insist on going, then I’m going with you. You have no idea what you’re driving into.’ I choked a dry laugh, and he shrugged. ‘Yes, I’m sorry. Of course you know. But I can’t let you go alone. If something were to happen, and you by yourself –’

‘You have duties here.’

‘Your ambulance is attached to my division. You
are
my duty. Besides, you’d get nowhere near Will without me, you wouldn’t stand a chance of getting a pass.’ He touched my face with a large, gentle hand, and gave a rueful little smile. ‘You might be dressed like Tommy Atkins, but you’re far too pretty to pass off as him.’

Despite everything, I found a watery smile. ‘Thank you.’

‘Come on. We’ll take my car, it’ll be faster than the ambulance.’

‘I’d have crawled if I had to,’ I told him, and he nodded.

‘Aye, I know. He’s a lucky man.’

‘Archie –’

‘It’s fine, Evie, it’s sunk in, don’t worry.’

I squeezed his hand, and together we left the hospital, heading for France, Will, and a single, snap decision that would change everything forever.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The roads were cluttered, but mercifully free from attention from the Teutons. Cars and buses carrying troops and equipment to the Front, and ambulances coming away, edged past each other on the pitted, broken surfaces, and all around was the sound of grinding gears and struggling engines, shouts, and orders to keep moving. I’d have recognised the grim signs of a push even if Archie hadn’t warned me.

Will’s unit had been in reserve during the first battle at the Scarpe, but this time he was not so lucky. I waited in the support trench while Archie went into the command HQ dugout, ignoring the curious glances of those who hurried past, and trying not to resent every soldier I saw for not being Will. Eventually he came out, and told me what he’d heard. 33
^rd
Division had gone over yesterday, with the Suffolks and the Seaforth Highlanders. Seeing my bleak expression, and unable to ease it, Archie took refuge in the familiarity of military details.

‘They had two objectives, d’ye see? One lot were sending hate down the Hindenburg Line,’ he gestured, ‘and Will was with those who were attacking in the open, towards the copse.’

‘I can’t hear any bombs.’

‘No, the barrage stopped when the first objective was gained, and the troops made it further in. Sent some prisoners back, but…’ He trailed away.

‘But what?’ My heart was as cold as my voice. ‘Where is he, Archie?’ He sighed, and tried to take my hand, but I wouldn’t let him. ‘Is he dead?’

‘No, not… They were cut off, that’s all. The Bosche got in between the copse and their jumping-off line. They’re digging in.’

‘So you’re saying they’re trapped.’ My hands shook and I thrust them into my pockets, trying to calm my frantically hurrying heartbeat.

‘For now, yes,’ Archie said, and went on quickly, ‘but the enemy fell back early this morning, and our boys secured the German front-line trenches. As soon as it was safe, they relieved the 1
^st
Middlesex, and after nightfall it’ll be C and D company. Will’s turn.’

I digested the information through a twisting mess of fear, and found something to hold onto. ‘So all he has to do is sit tight?’

‘They’re holding off well, they’ve even taken prisoners,’ Archie said, but I thought he sounded evasive.

‘But they’re still having to fight to hold the captured ground.’ It wasn’t a question, I could see it all too clearly but I needed to know every detail. ‘How well are they dug in?’

‘I don’t know,’ he confessed. ‘Look, I don’t have any more answers, I just wanted to tell you what I found out. We’ll just have to wait until nightfall and hope for the best, aye?’

I looked up at the sky; it was hard to tell if it was darkening with cloud, or with the natural advancement of the evening. The journey had been long and tiring, and although we had started early it had taken the best part of the day. Night couldn’t come fast enough.

‘Let’s get something to eat,’ Archie said gently. ‘You must be half-starved.’

It wasn’t until he said it that I realised I hadn’t eaten since I’d snatched a crust of bread before falling into bed last night. My stomach immediately growled, and I nodded. ‘So must you,’ I pointed out. I turned to look out towards where I knew Will lay entrenched, I hoped, and unhurt.

‘I could do with something,’ he admitted. ‘There’s a wee place in the town. If we hurry we’ll make it before curfew.’

We drove back a few miles until we reached town, and Archie found the café, where we were able to melt into the background and accept thin, faintly greasy cottage pie and a bottle of Claret. I tried to eat, I honestly thought I’d have wolfed it down, but the first mouthful stuck in my tight throat, and I raised streaming eyes to Archie and shook my head. I replaced my fork and took a big swallow of wine, which helped, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything after all, not knowing Will was out there in the gathering dark, awaiting a rescue that might come to nothing after all.

When we left the café I felt light-headed; drinking was easier than eating, and it had seemed to fill me up. But as soon as the fresh air hit me I knew it had been a mistake; I’d been exhausted, tense, I hadn’t eaten for hours and hours…the wine had been rich and comforting, but now I just felt queasy.

‘There’s one other thing you should know,’ Archie said, and he sounded hesitant now. ‘Will got your letter. It was delivered on the 22
^nd
, they went over the top on the 23
^rd
. I’m so sorry.’

I nodded, feeling dry and husked out. It had been a faint hope that he hadn’t, after all. ‘We’ll go back to the dugout,’ Archie went on. ‘At least there we’ll get news on how things are going.’

‘Fine, yes.’ I swayed, and once again his hand was there to stop me stumbling. He eased me onto the seat of his car. ‘Just sit there for a minute, there’s no rush just yet.’ I let my head fall back against the leather, and closed my eyes, wishing the world would stop spinning, and awoke much later to a gentle touch on my shoulder. It was pitch-black outside, and only the dim pulse of light from a flare lit the night sky. I struggled upright, and ran my tongue across my fuzzy teeth.

‘Here,’ Archie said, and I jumped at the sound of his voice. He lifted my hand off my lap and put a biscuit into it, and I bit into it gratefully. It helped break the thickness of my mouth, and I washed it down with water from his canteen.

‘Thank you,’ I said hoarsely. Then I remembered, rather shamefully, how I’d fallen asleep. ‘I’m sorry,’ I added, and he chuckled. He sounded so much like Uncle Jack when he did that, it made me smile despite my worry.

‘No need to be. Are you ready?’

I nodded, then realised he probably couldn’t see me. ‘Do you think he’ll be back?’

‘Let’s find out.’

The car moved off, lights out, of course. I found it comfortingly familiar, and a welcome distraction from worrying about Will, to be peering through the darkness and feeling the car jolting over potholes and mounds of blasted earth. When we arrived back at the dugout it was just after 11 p.m., and there was a noticeable buzz in the air.

Archie ducked inside, and after another agonising wait, during which I couldn’t remember drawing breath, he emerged with a grin. ‘They’ve reached the sunken road,’ he said, ‘they’re safe!’

The relief almost sent me to the floor, and I sagged against the side of the trench. ‘Where?’

He pointed out towards the roads in the distance, crossing the flat landscape but affording some shelter, where the rest of Will’s battalion waited. ‘I can’t believe they held out for forty hours,’ he added in a voice tinged with awe. I felt a massive surge of pride and love as I pictured a muddy, tired, but smiling Will, rejoining his battalion in a chorus of triumph and congratulations.

‘How long ’til they’re back?’

‘I don’t know, I’m going back in to find out more details. Will you be all right out here?’

I nodded. Archie squeezed my arm and handed me a tin hat. ‘Put this on. You’re quite safe back here, but you’ll attract less attention.’ He ducked back inside, and I walked a little further on, wanting to be first on-hand when any news came back. No one challenged me, or questioned my presence, I felt as invisible as Lizzy had said she’d always felt at Oaklands; it wasn’t a sensation I was used to, but I welcomed it. My life had always been lived in the full glare of attention, both at home and in Flanders, and here I was just a shadow like so many others. It was extraordinarily liberating.

Archie was gone a good long while, and I strained for any news among the muttering men who came and went along the trench, taking messages, delivering provisions and ammunition under cover of darkness…now and again a couple of stretcher-bearers would hurry past, returning a few minutes later, laden, to slip and slide in the mud on their way to the aid post behind me. I hadn’t realised I’d wandered so deep into the trench system, until someone shoved me in the back in their hurry to get past and I realised my surroundings had shrunk considerably. I had passed through the support trench, with its rows of dugouts and the sense of order, into the much narrower, forward-travelling communications trench. I stopped, a new fear worming its way through me at how close I had come to arriving, unchallenged, at the front line.

I’d never been so far forward; it gave me a horrible, sick feeling to think of all the men who’d lost life and limb here, right where I stood. Boxy’s story of tripping over the remains of one such boy suddenly became more real, vivid and horrifying than ever. Now my mind was on poor Boxy herself, and relief for Will was tinged with, not sorrow, as I’d expected, but anger. I remembered writing to Lizzy that I could quite happily stride out into No Man’s Land and shake the Hun until his teeth rattled…but shamefully I had to admit the anger was not enough to quell the fear, and I turned back.

Voices were drifting out of the dark, a constant mumble of different accents and tones, some warm with low laughter, some raised in annoyance…two of them came closer and brushed by me, still talking.

‘Not ’til daylight, orders say.’

‘Seems a bit…disrespectful though, given what happened.’

‘Can’t risk it.’

‘First light, then.’

‘Yeah.’

Half-listening, I followed the two men a few steps, eager to get back to the relative safety of the support trench, then froze.

‘Of course if that tall bugger hadn’t been so damn keen to get his souvenir it’d never have happened. His fault, I reckon.’

‘It’s the other one’s missus I feel sorry for. I mean, he’s well out of it, but she’s got to live with it. She’s one of them independents over near Dixmude I think. Landed gentry an’ all.’

My heart was starting to race, fast and loud, and I tried to swallow but couldn’t. I kept step by trembling step with the two men as they reported to their CO.

‘Two men down, sir. Glenn and Davies.’

I sank down onto my haunches, unable to support my own weight on legs that felt like twigs. Through the roar of rushing blood in my ears I heard the details.

‘C and D Company relieved, sir. Private Glenn went back to retrieve a weapon from a dead Squarehea…uh, German, sir.’