A Rose In Flanders Fields (22 page)

‘No, at least…no.’

‘What do you mean?
Are
you hurt?’

‘A little. It doesn’t matter. Go back to bed, we’ll talk tomorrow.’

‘We’ll talk now,’ I said firmly. I might have wished for peace instead of chatter, but this was hardly the same thing. ‘What happened? Was it a shell?’

‘No.’ She hitched another breath, and a moment later she had flung her arms about my neck and was sobbing against my shoulder.

‘Sweetheart!’ I had no idea what to do. Show me a man with his leg blown off, and instinct overtook thought, but this weeping child had me flummoxed. I settled for rubbing her back and letting her cry, while my mind raced with all that might have happened to set her off like this. I couldn’t feel any injuries on her, and her breathing sounded normal, apart from the tears.

Her sobs began to taper off and I started to think more clearly about the questions I would ask, but she surprised me by pushing me away and standing up. She went across to the tiny sink in the corner, and I leaned over to light a candle. The distant, light cracking of rifles had temporarily eased off, and the room was eerily quiet as I watched her unbutton her coat and let it fall to the floor. I got up and picked it upto hang it on the back of the door, and when I turned to speak to her my breath stopped. Her face was a puffy mess from her left eye down to her chin, with blood crusted below her nose and on the side of her mouth, and her right cheek was grazed as well, and oozing blood slowly while she stood, no longer hiding, but silently letting my eyes take in the horror she had probably not even seen herself.

‘Who did this?’ My voice came out small and helpless as she reached for the cloth.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, and she sounded dull now, and distant, so unlike her usual self it frightened me. I turned away, giving her a measure of privacy while she attended to herself and changed into her one clean set of clothing. I heard the small splashes as she dipped her cloth and wrung it, and then her tiny gasps as she dabbed at her bruised and bleeding face.

‘Please let me help,’ I begged, but she shook her head. ‘Then at least tell me who it was who attacked you.’

She simply shrugged as she climbed into bed. ‘How would it help? I’m going to sleep now,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I want to talk about this after all, if you don’t mind.’

‘But you –’

‘No! Thank you, but no. I’ll see you for breakfast. Oh, and Gertie needs oil, I’ll see to it in the morning. Goodnight.’

And with that Kitty turned away and pulled the eiderdown up to her ears, and didn’t speak again for the rest of the night. Anger boiled higher in my blood the more I thought about it. Who could have done this to the poor child? Someone must be quite sure of themselves, and of Kitty’s silence, and, to my frustration, it seemed as if their confidence was well-placed.

The next morning I tried once again to draw out the story of what had happened, but all she would tell me was that a soldier had called the empty ambulance to a stop on its way to the dressing station.

‘He was walking down the middle of the road,’ she said. ‘Well, more stumbling, and so I thought he was hurt. He wasn’t though, and nor was he drunk, but he wasn’t…steady. His eyes were odd. He wanted …’ Her eyes cut away from mine and I went cold. She didn’t need to elaborate on what he’d wanted, and I had an awful, creeping suspicion I knew just who that soldier had been.

‘Did you recognise him? Has he been to the cottage?’

‘No.’

But she said it too fast, and I saw the lie in the turn of her head as she took her coat down and went out to top Gertie up with oil. I remembered the general staff driver with a wave of revulsion, but the accusation had to come from her, I couldn’t put words in her mouth.

I followed her, and found her rummaging in the shed. Another suspicion took hold. ‘Kitty, you didn’t carry on afterwards, did you? I mean, you came straight home I presume?’ I presumed nothing of the sort, and her shrug confirmed it. I looked at her with horror, and a surge of something very much like I imagined maternal love must feel. ‘You mean you worked on?’

‘The convoy is down four drivers since the attack on the clearing station. Why should the Tommies suffer?’

I was floored by her courage. ‘You remind me of someone,’ I said, ‘someone I should very much like you to meet when we go to England.’

‘Your friend, the one who was your maid?’

‘Lizzy, yes. She’s equally reckless, and just as selfless,’ I said. I looked at Kitty, so young but with a new wariness in her eyes I would have given anything to take away. ‘Sweetheart, you have to let someone know. If not me, then ask one of the nurses to make sure you’re not badly hurt.’

‘I’m not,’ Kitty said. ‘Please, Evie, promise me you won’t tell anyone. If any word of this gets to Oliver he’ll panic and tell my parents. I’ll be sent home for good.’

‘Your parents didn’t want you here to begin with, did they?’

‘No, they didn’t. It took all my persuasion, and Oliver’s, to convince them he would be able to look after me.’

‘But he can’t!’ I said. ‘He’s a serving soldier, and besides he’s stationed miles away!’

‘They don’t know that,’ Kitty said. ‘They have a very strange idea of what life is like out here. It’s just a picture they’ve painted out of the few things I’ve told them, and they’ve added their own bits to make it easier on them when they think of Oliver and me. Of course, I let them think what they like, if only to stop them from coming here and dragging me back by my hair.’ She gave me a little smile and I was relieved to see it, but couldn’t help feeling she had not realised herself how difficult it would be for her brother to keep her safe. That was down to me, and I had failed her.

That little glimpse of the old Kitty lasted no longer than the time it took for me to agree not to tell Oliver, and as the day went on I saw her retreat deeper and deeper into herself. Every attempt to draw her out was met with a shake of her head and the view of her hunched back as she turned away to some task, either imagined or real. She refused to go outside until darkness had fallen completely, and was clearly more grateful for the cold weather than any of us; it meant she could wrap her scarf around much of her face when she went anywhere she might be seen and noticed by others. Every time I thought of that horrible driver my suspicions grew, and I had to fight not to try and shake the truth out of her.

Gradually the puffiness subsided and the bruises faded, but when she thought I was asleep I could hear her weeping. We lay without speaking in the freezing darkness, and I wished she would talk to me properly about what had happened. She was frightened to go anywhere alone now, which meant her newly discovered enjoyment of night-driving was dashed, and, I was ashamed to selfishly note, any hope I had of working alternate shifts was thrust aside for the time being.

Two weeks later we were told a driver was available at short notice, and readied ourselves for our trip back to England.

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Kitty said as she hurriedly threw a few things into her kit-bag. ‘I don’t want to go home. Can I come to the farm with you?’

‘Is this because of…what happened?’

She shrugged. ‘My face is almost better, but Mother’s bound to notice something. So, can I?’

‘I can’t answer for the farmer’s hospitality, but if she can’t put the two of us up, I’ll find somewhere else and you can have my bed.’

She looked at me, a little coolly. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘I’d like you to meet Lizzy,’ I said, but we both heard the unspoken words:
because I want to make up for what happened to you
. ‘And I know she’d like to meet you.’

Kitty observed me for a moment, then nodded and tightened the strings on her bag. ‘Thank you.’ I hoped her thanks were for the silent part of that conversation, but something told me Kitty’s heart was closed off to me now.

The diversion of this particular trip was a welcome one, despite the feeling that I had spent altogether too much time to-ing and fro-ing across the channel since November; my mind otherwise dwelt too long on the fact that I had written to Will every day since our meeting, but that he had not replied to a single letter. I even wrote to Barry Glenn, once I’d remembered his surname, in the cold, panicked certainty that something had happened. He wrote back that Will was in good health, just locked away in his own head and uncommunicative, even with his fellow soldiers. Of course I was passionately relieved to hear he was alive and well, and I knew I must give him time, but it hurt deeply that he couldn’t even bring himself to put pen to paper to reassure me. Worry was starting to give way to the beginnings of frustration, and of real anger now.

It was with deep relief, therefore, that I looked forward to getting away from this place, to try and forget everything, just for a few days. It would also be a good thing to be away from Archie Buchanan who was, simply by being his usual gentle, amusing self, starting to seem more and more appealing by the day. In the face of Will’s rejection and the pain it caused me, to have an attractive man make no secret of his pleasure in my company felt disturbingly gratifying, and I hated myself for being weak enough to notice it. Better to be away from both of them, and take the time to brace myself for the fight I knew was coming.

Kitty went out to check the shutters one last time, and I finished my packing while we waited for the driver who’d been detailed to take us to the ferry. Tension kept me nervously busy as I considered the possibility it might be the same driver as before, but if it was, Kitty’s reaction to him would confirm my as-yet unvoiced suspicions, and I could make a decision as to whether or not to report him.

Anne and Elise were going to replace us for the few days whilst we were away, and I was just musing on what I needed to tell them regarding Gertie’s newest failings, when I heard the rumble of a car outside. I took a deep breath, readying myself for coming face to face with Colonel Drewe’s driver, but when Kitty came back in her face was showing the first flush of colour I’d seen since her ordeal, and she looked more animated too.

‘The car’s here,’ she said. ‘And you’ll never guess! The driver’s coming all the way back to England with us, he has business there.’ I put her new brightness down to the simple pleasure of imminent home comforts, even for a day or two, but when the officer ducked beneath the lintel of the front door I saw the real reason behind the change.

‘Hello, Evie,’ Archie said.

Chapter Thirteen

Dark River Farm, Devon.

‘So then,’ Lizzy fixed me with a direct stare. ‘Why is he here?’

We were sitting at the kitchen table where we were alone for the first time. Mrs Adams, a tall woman with a strong, handsome face and tired eyes, had greeted us warmly despite the unexpected extra two guests, and waved away any suggestion that I find alternative accommodation.

‘You and Kitty can share Lizzy’s bed, and Lizzy can bunk in with the girls,’ she said. ‘Captain Buchanan can have the back room, where Mr Adams keeps all his wet-weather clothes. There’s a camp bed in there.’

Putting our bags up in the room we were to share overnight, Kitty had seemed to unbend towards me and I attributed it to the combination of Archie’s presence, and the infectious excitement of being around three girls of similar age, all of whom treated her like a celebrity, and bombarded her with questions. Whatever the cause, it was a relief, and I was reluctant to spoil it by bringing the subject up, so I simply accepted it with gratitude. After dinner Archie had whisked her out for a stroll, and Mrs Adams and the other three land army girls had gone back to work, giving Lizzy and me a rare chance to talk.

‘It’s terribly sad, really,’ I said. ‘One of his boys, a lad of nineteen, tried to get back to England without leave. He was caught stowing away on a hospital ship.’

‘Oh no…’

‘His brother had written to tell him their mother was ill and calling out for him. Poor boy was distraught, but otherwise healthy. His court-martial is the day after tomorrow, in London, and he has asked for Archie to vouch for him.’

‘So he’s not on leave?’

‘No, it’s army business.’

‘I hope he can make a difference,’ Lizzy said, but she looked sombre; she knew as well as I that it depended largely on the day, and on the mood of the presiding officer. Uncle Jack had been insistent on Will’s medical evidence being heard, but I knew that all too often it was never even presented, let alone considered. And, of course, this boy had no such evidence in any case.

‘I know he’ll do his best,’ I said. ‘He looks on them all like little brothers.’

‘I’m sure he does. He seems lovely. Very handsome.’ Lizzy spoke with the casual appreciation of a woman who has found her man and would never look at anyone else. ‘Are he and Kitty walking out together, do you think?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I know she’d like them to be though.’

‘Ah, and he has eyes for another.’ I looked up to see her eyes fixed on mine, altogether too knowingly. ‘I can see how he looks at you,’ she said, echoing Will, ‘it’s the same way Kitty looks at him.’

I began to pick up the plates in readiness for washing. ‘I don’t want to talk about Archie.’

‘Do you want to talk about Will?’ I didn’t know the answer to that, so she went on gently, ‘How is he?’

‘He’s well. Healthy in body, at least.’

She nodded. ‘I’m glad. But in his mind?’

I put the plates down beside the sink and folded my arms to try and stop the trembling. ‘He went back too soon. It’s strange, Lizzy; he’s so distant, but I can see the man I married, deep down, flashes of him, at least.’ I couldn’t bring myself to tell even her that he wanted me to cut him out of my life, and I still refused to believe he wanted me out of his. ‘I’ve spoken to a friend of his,’ I told her instead, ‘and it’s as if he’s describing a completely different person. An angry stranger.’

‘Sweetheart, he’ll come back,’ Lizzy said gently. ‘He’s been through so much, it’s bound to have changed him, but you know he loves you as much as he ever did.’

I had to change the subject before I broke down entirely. ‘Have you heard from Uncle Jack?’ I could feel the absence of him in every word she spoke, as if part of her had gone to Germany with him.