Anna Jacobs (19 page)

Downstairs she found Marcus leaning on the lounge bar, talking to the landlord, but he turned when he heard her footsteps and led her across to a small side room where a table was set ready for them.

“We have a special breakfast for newly-weds,” the landlord said, chuckling when Serena blushed. “Bacon, a whole egg each, fried bread, and as much toast and jam as you want.”

Serena didn’t think she could eat so much and started to say so, “I’m not sure I—”

Marcus put his fingers across her lips. “You hardly ate anything yesterday. I don’t want you fainting on me.”

“I’ll—try.”

Marcus ate his food, persuaded her to eat most of hers, then finished the rest for her, after which he sat back in his seat and sighed in satisfaction. “I don’t think I’ve been so well fed since I came home. I have a hearty appetite, I’m afraid. Now, I think we’d better go back and sort things out in Tinsley, don’t you?”

She couldn’t stop herself from shuddering. “Yes, though I wish we didn’t have to.”

“Fleming can hardly knock us over the head in a public place and carry us off.”

“He tried to do that to me before, remember? Well, not knock me over the head, but carry me off from a public place. And he’d have succeeded, too, but for you and Vic.”

“Well, it’d be a futile effort now because I’m officially your next of kin, and I know you’re of sound mind.”

She nodded, trying not to let him see how afraid she was. But something told her that Fleming wouldn’t easily give up.

“Come on. Let’s find out about trains then I’ll pay our bill and take you home.” He pushed his chair back and went to move hers to let her stand up.

‘“Home,” she said wonderingly.

“I hope the Hall will soon feel like home, Serena.”

“It can’t feel less like it than Fleming’s house did.”

“And don’t forget, it’ll soon be Christmas. I’m determined to celebrate in style this year, our country’s first peaceful Christmas for so long, and the first for us as a married couple.”

She knew he was trying to cheer her up, so she didn’t say anything else. But all the way back to Tinsley she was wondering what sort of reception they would have, wondering if Marcus really would be able to protect her from Ernest Fleming.

PART 2

Chapter 9

On the afternoon of November the eleventh, the chief nurse came into the ward and smiled round at the men. “It’s happened at last, boys!”

They turned towards her expectantly.

“The war’s over.”

There was silence, then some ragged cheering. One man turned his back to hide the tears in his eyes, another sat motionless, staring down at the floor.

The orderly, who was a former patient, walked across to the window and let the sounds of the long, narrow ward wash around him. He didn’t feel like cheering or weeping . . . or anything much really.

“You all right, Aubrey lad?”

He turned to Jim, who’d become a close friend over the months they’d both been here, and smiled. “You’re sure you’ll go mad for joy when it happens, but all I can think of is how many people have lost their lives. Was it worth it?”

“We didn’t have much choice.”

“You
did. You came all the way from Australia to fight with us—and you suffered for that.”

“Ah, I’m getting right again now. And who was there to miss me back there?” He studied the younger man. “You’ve not—remembered anything else?”

“I think I have, actually. It’s the name of a town. Tinsley. But I only remember the name, not anything about the place. Maybe that’s where I lived. Who knows?” The doctors said Aubrey’s memory might never return and because no one knew who he really was, or even what regiment he was from because of mix-ups in the field hospitals, they weren’t sure enough of him to let him go back to active duty.

He didn’t mind them setting him to work here because he didn’t want to get himself killed. The ones he felt sorry for were the lads who did have to go back, but he knew what he did here was useful, more useful to his mind than the killing he’d been forced into before. 

He saw Jim frowning and managed a smile. “What I’d really like is to get out of here. You’ve only one more operation to go now. I’ll miss you. You’ve been a good friend to me.” It was the nearest he could get to saying out loud that this man had become like a father to him. Jim had no family of his own back in Australia and was older than the rest of them. His body was now a patchwork of scars and new skin, and his thinning hair was streaked with silver, but his eyes were bright with life and more importantly, he was both wise and kind, knowing when to listen quietly and when to tell a chap to buck up and get on with his life.

“We can keep in touch afterwards, if you like,” Jim offered, rubbing the toe of his slipper in circles on the floorboards. “I could even come and visit you in Tinsley before I go back to Australia.”

“I’d really like that. Promise!”

“Cross me heart an’ hope to die.” Jim looked at him thoughtfully. “Dr Fitton might be able to help you get out of the Army for good now the war’s over. Why don’t you ask him?”

Aubrey nodded. In July 1917 he’d been found naked, unconscious and badly injured, with even his identification tag missing, after the battle they now called Passchendaele. He’d not remembered how his injuries had happened or much else, either. No one had recognised him, so the nurses had given him the name Aubrey Smith. He liked it so much he’d arranged to keep it officially when they brought him back to Blighty to the blessed quietness of this long-term convalescent home in Surrey.

He’d done little except sleep the first month, then gradually his body had recovered enough from his injuries for his mind to start functioning better, but he still had no idea who he was, except that he had a northern accent—probably Lancashire they said.

Sometimes he thought he remembered a young woman, rather plain but with a lovely kind smile. He didn’t remember her name, though. He’d wondered at first if she was his wife but that hadn’t felt right, so he’d come to the conclusion that she was either a relative or a friend because she was definitely too young to be his mother. Unless he was very lucky and bumped into her or someone else who recognised him, he reckoned he’d never know.

And would anyone recognise him now? The face that looked back at him from the mirror was serious and not bad looking, but he seemed to catch fleeting glimpses of another face, that of a much younger man, rather nervous and
soft-looking
was the only way he could describe that face. He didn’t look soft now, few men did after what they went through in the trenches.

And what he’d seen in the convalescent home had made him appreciate how lucky he’d been. He’d only lost his memory and sustained a few superficial wounds. He still had both arms and legs, all his fingers and toes. Some men had lost so much of themselves, physically or mentally, that they’d have to be cared for like babies for the rest of their lives.

He did keep wondering who he was, though. How could you not? The book he’d borrowed from the doctor about his condition said that such complete memory loss was often caused by things too painful to bear.

What had been so painful about his previous life?

Ah, who knew anything? He fixed the smile back on his face and turned to clap Jim on the shoulder. “Come on! Let’s join in the celebrations.” He took a sip or two of the beer one of the orderlies had smuggled in, then passed the glass to Joe who had no legs now but was determined to walk again one day, not ride on one of those little trolleys some legless men used. Joe was another whose example kept Aubrey going. There were a lot of grand fellows here.

* * * *

The following day Aubrey went to see the doctor in charge of their unit to ask how quickly he could be demobilised.

“Why? Have you remembered something?”

“A town called Tinsley. I’ve looked it up on the maps and it’s a small place in Lancashire, north-east of Oldham, so that fits with my accent.”

“Do you want us to make inquiries on your behalf with the authorities there?”

“I’d rather do it myself, sir. It’s more than time I went out into the world and stood on my own feet again, don’t you think?”

“I do. I’ll sign you off as ‘unsuitable for further service’ but suitable to be released.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Aubrey hesitated, then had to ask, “You
do
think I’m fit to be released, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes. I have done for a while, but I was waiting for you to ask me yourself. That was my final test.”

“Good.” Strange what a difference it made, a doctor saying it. But he’d known it really.

“Will you be all right for money, Smith?”

“I’ve been saving my wages since I started working as an orderly, sir. Well, there isn’t much to spend them on here, is there? So I can manage for a while then find myself a job. After all, I’m a trained orderly now. If I had any money, I’d like to become a doctor and help people, but I can’t afford the training.”

“There are other ways of helping people. It’s a long training to become a doctor. If we reckon you at about twenty-five, which seems reasonable, you’d be into your thirties before you were qualified to practise.”

The doctor didn’t say that they had no idea of the education Aubrey had received, no idea of his qualifications or training, though they’d told him he’d probably had a sound education from the ease with which he read and the things he said. Sometimes, when he felt particularly desperate about all the uncertainties with which he had to live, he wondered how you could build a whole new life on a few months’ memories and no family of your own?

The doctor tapped the papers on his desk. “I reckon it’ll take a couple of weeks to get the paperwork sorted out, so you may as well continue working here until we hear from the powers that be.”

“That’s all right, sir. As long as I know it’s in the pipeline.”

It wasn’t all right, of course. Having made the decision, what Aubrey desperately wanted was to get the hell out of here and find this Tinsley place, see if he could retrieve his past. He’d looked at the town on the map so many times. Why didn’t he remember what it looked like, for heaven’s sake, if that was where he came from?

He went off to find his friend and tell him the latest news. As the days passed, he had plenty of time to say his goodbyes and plan what to do. The Army didn’t make it easy for you to get away from them and even with a doctor’s recommendation, you had to wait on their convenience.

* * * *

A month later Aubrey said goodbye to Jim and left the convalescent home, driven to the nearest main line station by one of the lady volunteers from the village. He listened to her gentle prattling with one ear, saying “Mmm” and “Yes” at intervals while trying to get used to the idea that he wasn’t ever going back again. That thought was both terrifying and exciting.

When she left him at the station he felt bewildered for a moment or two, so unused was he to making his own decisions, but a fatherly porter seemed to sense his uncertainty and quickly directed him to the correct platform.

The train was quite full, so he got into a compartment with a group of four soldiers sprawled about in it. As they made room for him, one of them cocked an eye in his direction, noting the Army greatcoat over civilian clothes. “Just been demobbed?”

Aubrey nodded. “Yes. Released from the convalescent home today, actually.”

“Going back to your family, son?”

“Lost my memory. Don’t even know who I am.” He’d decided to be open about this. Well, he’d only give himself away if people asked him for details of his background.

“Bad luck, that. Where are you going, then?”

“Place called Tinsley, in Lancashire. I remembered the name so I’m going to find out if I come from there.” And suddenly he could see the town in his mind’s eye—well, see the main street anyway. He caught his breath and sat very still, letting the vision roll through his mind, his head beginning to throb, as it did whenever he remembered something important.

“You all right?”

He summoned up a smile. “Just remembered something else. It always gives me a bit of a headache to remember, but that’ll soon pass. I’d put up with any number of headaches to get my memory back.”

He wasn’t sorry to part company from them and have the compartment to himself, friendly as they had been. It was good to watch the peaceful English countryside, with fields, farms, small towns and villages passing in quick succession. The neatness of it all gave him a sense of sanity after the madness or war.

* * * *

By the time he got out of the train at Tinsley, Aubrey was too exhausted to care about anything except finding a bed for the night. It was dusk and outside the station people were hurrying home from work. The gas lamps along the street made pools of light, seeming feeble at the moment as they competed with the last of the daylight. Rain was falling straight down from a leaden sky.

He found a cab and asked if the driver knew where he could find a room for the night. “I’ve just been demobbed. Don’t have any family to come back to.”

The cab driver took him to a pub where a motherly landlady no sooner discovered he was a returning soldier than she gave him a right royal welcome. Aubrey let her show him up to a bedroom, tried very hard to answer her well-meaning questions, but wanted only to lie down and sleep.

She seemed to understand how he felt. “Look at me, nattering your head off like this, Mr Smith.” Don’t go to sleep quite yet. I’ll bring you up a cup of tea and a sandwich. I’m betting you’ve not eaten for a while.”

He blinked and tried to remember when he’d last had a meal. “You’re right.” He opened his knapsack and found the package. “They gave me some ham sandwiches, but I forgot to eat them. Maybe you could toast them for me?”

“Yes. We mustn’t waste good food, must we? But don’t go to sleep yet. You’ve got to eat to keep up your strength.”

He wasn’t hungry, but he was desperately thirsty so he sat upright on a chair and waited for her to come back. He’d recognised the main street near the station, at least he thought he had, so surely he was in the right place? If he was very lucky, during the next few days or weeks, someone in the town would recognise him.