The Nurse's War (8 page)

‘So why the pretence?’

‘I had to see you and she—Miss Strachan—was insistent that I must have an appointment. But today is my only free day. I’m on duty for the rest of the week.’

‘It sounds as though it might be something of national importance after all.’

‘It’s a personal matter,’ she murmured. So personal that now she’d arrived at the moment the impossibility of conveying Gerald’s demand hit her with an unforeseen force. She felt her breath stutter and words go missing.

‘Tell me,’ he urged. His hand rested lightly on her forearm, a gesture of friendship, of solidarity. ‘You’ve braved meeting me again, so it must be serious.’

Daisy looked down at her hands and noticed they were clenching and unclenching. He must have noticed, too, and realised how hard this was for her.

‘It was about your work,’ she managed to say at last. At least that was true, but far too vague. It was the best she could do though.

‘My work?’

‘How is it going?’ She’d ducked the question she should be asking.

‘Fine.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘It’s going fine.’ An uneasy silence opened between them and in her mind it filled the entire station, blotting out the chatter, the laughter, the raised voices.

‘Did I tell you I’d jumped horses?’ He was trying to fill the yawning gap and she was grateful. ‘Not exactly jumped,’ he continued, ‘more of a sideways manoeuvre.’

‘You said something about new colleagues, I think. I don’t remember the details.’

‘That’s hardly surprising. Anyway, I’m working for Special Operations now. What’s left of the SIS after last year’s split is still with the Foreign Office, but I got lucky.’

‘Why lucky?’

‘The SOE is far less demure—it can even be a tad exciting. The Foreign Office seems positively staid by comparison.’

She’d always felt that Grayson was cut out for adventure, and it looked as though he’d finally found it. His masquerade as a district officer in Jasirapur had never quite rung true.

‘What do you do there?’

‘Guerilla stuff—getting operations going in occupied countries. Or at least, we try to.’

She forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying but her mind refused to obey. Somehow she was having to hold one kind of conversation, while at the same time working to escape the one that really mattered. And, all the time, she was conscious of his warmth infiltrating the length of her body.

In a daze she heard herself say, ‘But I thought your work was with India.’

‘It is. SOE is divided up, each section assigned to a single country and naturally I got to join the Indian sector. We set up the India Mission late last year. It’s too distant for London to control directly but I’m the liaison officer.’

‘And that’s exciting?’

‘By proxy. We’re building local resistance, helping groups in Japanese occupied territory. The station’s due to move to Ceylon, to be closer to South-east Asia Command, but I’ll still be the liaison.’ He paused for a moment and then with a slight awkwardness, ‘Here, I’m rambling on far too long. You can’t possibly be interested in all of this. Tell me, how’s the training going?’

Her ploy appeared to have worked. In his enthusiasm, he’d forgotten the urgent matter she wanted to discuss. She was being a coward, she knew, but with luck, the all-clear would sound before he remembered it. And if she could talk about her own work as engagingly, it might distract him a while longer.

‘The training’s going well. Studying isn’t always easy, especially after a long day or night on the wards. But since I passed the Preliminary Exam, it’s been better. I’m trusted now with quite difficult procedures, though I don’t escape the drudgery—and bedpans are beginning to lose their allure.’

She gave a rare smile and he smiled back. ‘Only beginning! But you must be gaining an immense amount of experience. And once the war is over, you’ll find that invaluable. I can see you making matron in no time.’

She didn’t reply, but felt his eyes resting on her, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentle. ‘Sorry, that sounded callous. I can imagine the experience has come at a price. Some of your days must be very distressing.’

She felt herself being tugged towards his sympathy. Don’t look at him, she told herself, don’t look into his face, into his eyes. She must not allow old feelings to surface. Not when they could be dashed at any moment, severed absolutely, if she was forced to admit the outrageous request she had come with.

‘Some of the work is painful,’ she agreed. ‘Barts still operates as a casualty clearing station and the stream of bomb victims is pretty constant. But you’re right. With local emergencies as well, the nursing is intensive, particularly as we’ve only a skeleton staff. Most of the nurses have been sent to Hill End but I’ve been lucky. I was one of the few asked to stay in London.’

‘And when the war ends, where to?’

He seemed as eager as she to keep the conversation going, so she obliged. ‘I should be an SRN by then. I think I’d like to specialise in surgical nursing. I actually made it into the theatre the other day. One of the third year nurses had to go home—her mother is extremely ill—and I took her place. Operations are done in the basement now. They’ve moved all the linen, but it’s still quite cramped. I found it so interesting, though, that I forgot how hot and crowded it was.’

He nodded almost absently and she felt his eyes fix anew on her face. He was thinking and that was dangerous. He was trying to read her, she could see. He hadn’t forgotten the urgent mission she’d come on after all, and she couldn’t imagine why she’d thought he would. He was an intelligence officer, wasn’t he? It was his job to get to the bottom of things. She strained her ears; the all-clear was a long time coming, but it could still save her. If it sounded, she would say a swift goodbye and tell Gerald that she’d met Grayson as he’d asked, and had done her best to persuade, but without success. It was a lie, but then how many times had her husband lied to her?

She crossed and uncrossed her legs, then glanced down at her watch. The second hand seemed hardly to have moved. Time was slowing down and she felt trapped. The people immediately around her had begun to settle themselves more securely. They must have decided the raid would be protracted or simply one among a series and resigned themselves to spending most of the night
away from home. Limbs were spread more widely, shoes removed, coats bunched as pillows or tucked into the body as protection from the ferocious draughts that sailed in from either side of the tunnel.

Grayson watched these preparations with an indifferent eye, but when he turned back to her, his gaze was sharp and the quiet voice had become unyielding. ‘It’s been good to catch up with each other’s lives, Daisy, but I don’t think you came all the way from the City on your one free day to talk about my work or yours. What’s going on?’

There was to be no escape then. When she dared look at him, she felt her eyes drawn to his and saw determination there, but kindness too, and something a good deal deeper and warmer. What she had to say would anger him for sure. It might even hurt him and that was the last thing she wanted. But the confusion, the wretchedness she’d felt these past few days had reached a crescendo and, in a moment, it had toppled and burst through the flimsy defence she had built.

‘Gerald is alive,’ she blurted out.

C
HAPTER
5

S
he felt Grayson’s body tense against her, saw his face become stone.

‘Gerald is alive,’ she repeated. She still hardly believed it herself.

‘Gerald? Gerald Mortimer?’ His bark of laughter was ugly, forced.

‘Yes. Gerald—my husband.’

‘But that’s crazy. Why on earth would you think that?’

‘I don’t think it, I know. He’s here in London. He came to see me.’ It was getting easier now. Her breath was still catching, but she was managing to put one word after another.

Grayson wasn’t so adept. ‘But … But how can he be?’ he stuttered.

‘He didn’t drown. He was rescued by villagers downstream.’

‘That’s impossible. The river that day … you saw the river, Daisy. You stood on its brink. No one could have survived that torrent.’

‘He did,’ she said flatly. ‘Somehow he managed to hang
on to wreckage from one of the festival floats. He was pushed into the bank some miles from Jasirapur, and the villagers found him and looked after him until his injuries were mended. Then he made his way back to England.’

‘Just like that.’ Grayson still seemed stunned, but there was a sour edge to his voice.

‘I don’t think it was quite that easy. He hasn’t told me much about the journey except that it took months. He begged his way out of India, and then through Turkey and across Europe. He found a job in France, but then war was declared. And here he is.’

Grayson’s legs twitched. He looked as though he would give anything to jump to his feet and disappear down one of the tunnels. Instead, his hands harrowed through the brown sweep of his hair until it almost stood to attention. His mouth was tight and his forehead creased; beneath its rigid lines Daisy could see a whole encyclopedia of questions forming.

‘But why? Why come to England, why not return to Jasirapur?’

‘If he’d gone back, he would have been arrested. You would have arrested him.’

Grayson glared furiously at her, as though her remark was so self-evident it wasn’t worth uttering.

‘And he still
can
be arrested,’ he was keen to remind her. ‘The Indian Army will want a court martial for certain. He’s brought dishonour on his regiment. But he’s also guilty of a criminal act. He should stand trial for theft, even treason.’

Daisy nodded dumbly. He was not saying anything she’d not already told herself a thousand times.

‘And now, of course, he can add desertion to the charge sheet.’ Grayson was angry, very angry. ‘Not to mention his treatment of you.’

‘He did try to save my life,’ she said in a small voice. ‘You once reminded me of that.’

‘That was when I thought he was dead.’ His voice was savage. ‘What possessed him to desert? Couldn’t he for once have acted like a man, owned up to his crimes, taken his punishment? Evidently not.’

She didn’t know whether he was consumed by fury at Gerald’s criminal follies, or whether it was simple jealousy of the man who’d returned to claim his wife. But, whatever the reason, he couldn’t be much angrier. Why not then take her chance?

She made a soft clearing sound in her throat. ‘It’s why I’ve come to you.’

‘You want my advice on how to live with a deserter?’ His voice had lost none of its sting.

‘No, yes. I want your help, Grayson. You’re the only one who
can
help me. Gerald wants to go to a neutral country, to America where he’ll be safe.’

‘I bet he does. Tell him to apply through the usual channels.’

‘You know he can’t do that. He’d be arrested immediately.’

‘And I should care?’

‘I don’t expect you to care. But I do. He’s a soldier guilty of theft and desertion at a time when his country is struggling to survive. Think what my life will be like if my husband is tried for those crimes. And worse, if he’s tried for treason.’

‘It wouldn’t be comfortable,’ he conceded. ‘But who knows, Gerald might get himself out of England and there’d be no problem. He’s weasel enough. And no doubt you’ll accompany him to whatever Shangri-La he has in mind. England could fade to a distant nightmare for you.’ He turned his body away from her, his jaw a hard outline against the fluorescent glow of the station lighting.

‘I don’t want him anywhere near me.’

The words formed themselves without effort. They were heartfelt and true. What she wanted most of all was a clean break, just as Connie had suggested. The realisation had been slow to come. Since Gerald reappeared, she’d been tormenting herself on what she should do, how she should feel, and it had been time wasted. Why had she clouded what was so beautifully clear? From the beginning, she had been unhappy in her marriage and it had gone from bad to worse—and now worse still. She had to cut herself free and if Gerald made it to America, she would be. She would never need to see him again.

Grayson turned towards her as she spoke, his figure no longer frighteningly stiff. He reached across and took her hand in his, and for some time they sat silent and unmoving. Then he gave her hand a squeeze. ‘The sooner he goes,
the better, Daisy. You’ve suffered enough from him and you mustn’t be dragged into his murky little world again. How dare he even try.’

‘I think he came to me out of desperation. He’s no one else to turn to. When I first met him, he seemed the same old Gerald, but underneath I believe he’s scared. Really scared.’

‘With good reason. The army usually get their man, even if SIS have too much going on to be interested in him any longer.’

‘He’s convinced that someone is going to report him to the authorities.’

Grayson gave a low mutter. ‘Who exactly? Who even knows he’s in London? You won’t bring it out in the open and neither will I, though by rights I should summon the Military Police immediately. I’m sure they’d be more than a little interested in Lieutenant Mortimer.’

‘He’s no longer Mortimer. He’s reverted to being Jack Minns.’

‘Ah, Jack Minns. That sounds about right—returning to the person he really is. He was such a little shit at Hanbury, I should have known what his future would be.’

She had never heard Grayson swear before and her face must have signalled her dismay.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to distress you, but he’s despicable. I wish you’d never met him. He’s brought you nothing but ill fortune.’

She couldn’t disagree. She wished with all her heart
that when Gerald had walked into Bridges that day to buy perfume for another woman, one of her disdainful colleagues had stepped forward to serve him. Instead, the job had fallen to her and the moment she’d smiled across the counter at him, her fate had been decided. Was still being decided. And would continue to be decided until she found a way to get Gerald across the Atlantic Ocean. A renewed sense of weariness rolled over her. Confessing her mission to Grayson had taken a toll, and in the end it had been for nothing. He was sympathetic to her, but he wouldn’t or couldn’t help Gerald. He was too angry even to consider the possibility. Her husband would stay in London, a tormenting presence, a time bomb primed to explode at any moment and ruin the small success she’d made of her life.