Connie’s Courage (33 page)

The car door opened. Connie bit her lip as a soft hand touched her own, and an even softer voice said emotionally, ‘Oh, Connie, Connie, it is you … Oh dearest, I hardly dared to let myself hope, even though Iris assured me that it was true and that it was you! Gideon, it is Connie. Come quickly and see. Oh, my dearest love … My dearest, dearest sister!'

Connie could feel Ellie's tears on her skin as her sister lovingly helped her from the car.

‘I didn't want to come here,' she began, but immediately Ellie stopped her.

‘Not come? But Connie, where else should you go? We are your family! This is your home!'

‘No, it is your home, Ellie,' Connie started to say, but her emotions were clogging her throat and making it impossible for her to speak.

Iris had told her that Ellie was overjoyed to hear that she was still alive after believing her
to have perished in the
Titanic,
but Connie had not truly dared to believe that her sister would welcome her.

‘If only we'd known where you were, and that you were alive.' Ellie was weeping as Gideon took over from his wife, lifting Connie's frail form into his arms, to carry her inside.

‘Please don t. I can walk, Connie protested, but it was too late, Gideon was carrying her into the house and up the stairs. He took her through a doorway and into the prettiest bedroom Connie had ever seen.

Tears blurred her vision, but through them she could still see her sister's anxious face and tear-wet eyes, as she instructed her husband to place Connie on the waiting chaise.

‘See, Connie, from here you can look out into the square, and later on, when you are able, we can walk to the park together. Oh, Connie, why have you not written or telephoned?

‘Now Ellie, we agreed that there should be no questions, Gideon broke in with quiet authority. ‘At least until Connie is feeling stronger.'

Iris had come upstairs, and Connie heard her saying firmly that Connie would be better in bed so that she could recover from the journey. Within minutes of those firm words, Connie was tucked up in bed being given a drink of hot milk.

She was tired, more so than she herself had been prepared for, but her anguish at being forced on her sister's charity kept her awake. Once she
was alone and there was no one to witness her misery and guilt, she plucked worriedly at the bedclothes.

Ellie couldn't possibly want her here, surely? Despite the warmth of the room she shivered. She had no right to be here. She didn't deserve to be here.

She closed her eyes trying to squeeze back her unwanted tears, as exhaustion, and then sleep, claimed her.

She was still asleep several hours later, when the door opened gently and Ellie tiptoed in. She stood by the bed and looked emotionally into her sister's sleeping face.

In her sleep Connie was aware of the gentle, loving hand touching her face. Without opening her eyes she whispered longingly, ‘Mother.'

It was the hot splash of Ellie's tears on her hand that brought her to confused wakefulness.

‘Oh, Connie …'

As Ellie took her in her arms and held her tightly, she could feel her sister's body shake with the pent-up force of her tears.

Suddenly she too was crying, clinging to Ellie as Ellie was clinging to her, their tears mingling, just as though they were still young girls.

‘Connie, what on earth are you doing out of bed? You know Iris said you must rest, for your own sake, and for the baby's.'

‘Ellie, I'm fine,' Connie assured her elder sister, as she stood in front of the window of the elegant guest room in Ellie and Gideon's Winckley Square home.

‘Connie, you may think that you are, but dearest, you must try to remember that it is only just a month since Iris brought you here. And if I seem to fuss over you, it is just because I am so happy to have you restored to us! When Iris telephoned from our cousin Cecily's to tell us that you had not, as we had thought, been on
Titanic
and that you were alive, I could scarcely take it all in. For such a coincidence to happen! That Iris should have been on her way to the Infirmary for a meeting just as you stepped out into the road.

‘I didn't want Iris to involve Cecily in any of this! I know that Cecily's husband is her brother, but I can never forget that Cecily's mother is our aunt – and it certainly wasn't by my choice that Iris wished me on you, Ellie!

‘Cecily means well and is very kind-hearted, Connie. And as for you being wished on me, no such thing! Where else should you go? My dearest wish has been that I might see you again.

‘Iris says it is a wonder that her driver was able to stop! I can't bear to think about how easily I might have lost you! How easily you might have been killed. Ellie gave a small shudder.

‘You thought I was dead already,' Connie couldn't stop herself from pointing out prosaically.

‘Which makes me all the more determined that you shall be properly looked after now that you have been restored to us,' Ellie returned promptly. ‘Your return to us is like a miracle, Connie. I had grieved for you so much; wished so much that I might tell you how much I love you. Fate meant you to come back to us, Connie, otherwise why should it have been Iris who saw you and recognised you?'

Connie wondered what her sister would say if she told her that part of her still wished herself dead, despite the luxury and spoiling Ellie was surrounding her with.

‘And it is not just a gift of your return I have been blessed with, Connie, but the hope of a new niece or nephew as well,' Ellie continued sentimentally.

Immediately Connie looked down at her left hand and the rings she was wearing on her wedding finger, a plain gold band and a small diamond engagement ring.

Ellie followed her gaze and blushed prettily.

‘We thought it best that you had them. You know how people talk, Connie, and with Aunt Gibson living so close. I know you were working as a nurse, but Iris says it is not uncommon for nurses to marry in secret before their sweethearts go off to war.'

Sweetheart! An icy coldness had started to invade Connie; nausea rushed into her as she compared the brutal reality of what she had endured with the idyllic image conjured up by her sister's words.

‘You have not spoken of … of anyone, Ellie continued uncertainly, ‘and … and Iris said that you must be allowed to get your strength back before anyone bothered you with questions that might cause you pain. So many brave men have been lost in this War. I can only imagine how I would feel if I were to lose my darling Gideon! Gideon's right hand had been crippled in a horrific accident before he and Ellie were married. To Ellie's relief, this meant he had been rejected for military service.

Ellie couldn't have made it plainer what she was wanting her to say, Connie recognised, and a part of her was tempted to lie and claim the respectability of marriage, and the widowhood to which she was not entitled.

But another part of her wanted her sister to know the truth; wanted her to know what had happened to her. Wanted what? To see Ellie recoil from her in shock and horror, because that was what she would do, Connie warned herself. The elegant, protected, respectable wife Ellie had now become, would never be able to understand the kind of situation she, Connie, had been in. Nor the situation she now was in.

What was the matter with her? Connie asked herself in irritation. Why was she reverting to such childishness, especially when Ellie had been so kind and welcoming to her? Was it because her sister's use of the word ‘sweetheart had conjured up for Connie images of Harry?

‘And that reminds me,' Ellie added. ‘Iris will be here soon. She telephoned to say that she would be coming over, and that she would like to call and see you, to see how you are progressing.'

‘There is no need for her to put herself out on my account,' Connie insisted ungraciously. ‘I may not be a doctor, but I am a fully qualified nurse, Ellie, and I do not need Iris to tell me that a few bruises and scratches are healing.'

‘A few bruises and scratches! How can you say that? The cut on your head alone!'

Connie could feel her impatience growing. What was the point in trying to explain to Ellie the difference between the few small wounds she had received, and the wounds she had seen soldiers bear?

She should be counting her blessings, and thanking God for His and Ellie's generosity, Connie admitted. But she could not relax when she knew that, sooner or later, she would be called upon to account for her past, if not by Ellie herself, then certainly by her husband Gideon, and even more certainly their Aunt Gibson.

The sudden sounds of an arrival downstairs in the hall had Ellie going to the door, exclaiming in relief, ‘That is sure to be Iris. I must go down and welcome her.'

Once her sister had gone, Connie paced the room restlessly. To her despair, against all the odds and contrary to her secret hopes, she was still carrying the Captain's child.

There was a firm knock on the bedroom door and then, before she could call out in response, it opened and Iris came in.

‘I was at the Infirmary yesterday, Connie. Both Matron and Mr Clegg asked after your health, and asked me to convey their good wishes to you.

Connie almost flinched. ‘Does Matron know?' Unable to go on, she turned away.

Behind her she heard Iris exhale.

‘That you are to have a child? Yes.

‘I wish I might not be having it, Connie burst out. ‘I wish that …

‘No. You must not say that, Iris stopped her firmly, coming over to her and grasping her shoulders. ‘I do understand how difficult this is for you, Connie. And if, as I suspect. I am right in guessing … Iris stopped and shook her head, whilst Connie tensed. ‘Those of us who experience at first hand the frailty of life and its shortness, especially when that life is a soldier's life, can sometimes be forced to live by a different set of rules in wartime than those who do not have that experience. I can understand that there may not have been the time or the opportunity for you to marry the father of your child.

‘Is that why you told them at the Infirmary that I was a widow? Connie asked her.

‘I did what I thought was best, Iris told her. ‘My dear, she added gently, ‘you are far from being the only woman to find herself in such a situation, and I would be the last person to judge you harshly for
it. Of course I may have guessed incorrectly, and if that is so then I apologise for any distress I might have caused you, Connie. However, if I am right, then please allow me to offer you some advice.'

Iris paused and gave Connie a very direct look.

‘I shall not mince my words, for I believe that both of us are women who prefer plain-speaking. Whilst there are those who will understand your situation, there are many, many, more who will not, and who indeed will take great pleasure in not doing so. They will condemn both you and your child, and through you all those who are closely connected to you. Your sister, Ellie, for instance. Do you understand what I am trying to say?'

Of course she did, how could she not, Connie reflected bitterly, as she acknowledged Iris's statement with a brusque nod of her head.

‘I know this cannot be easy for you,' Iris continued. ‘But for their sakes, and for the sake of your child, I would urge you to think carefully, and to look ahead to the future when this war is over, and the urgency and immediacy that governs our actions now is forgotten …' Her glance fell to the rings Connie was wearing. ‘Life, society will be much kinder to you as a widow, Connie, than as a young woman with a child who has no legitimate father, especially when …'

‘Especially when that young woman is someone like me who has already brought disgrace on herself and her family?' Connie challenged Iris sharply. ‘Is that what you were going to say?'

‘No. It wasn't,' Iris answered her evenly. ‘What I was going to say was, especially when that young woman is so highly thought of by her employers, and might one day want to return to her work, and to do so in the knowledge that she is … respected.

‘Respected or respectable?' Connie challenged her.

‘Both, Iris told her coolly. Connie looked away from her. There was a certain truth, a good sense in what Iris was saying, she recognised.

‘So far as your baby's father is concerned … Iris continued, more gently.

‘I do not wish to speak of him. I cannot bear to speak of him, Connie stopped her, shuddering violently.

‘So many brave young men have been lost to this War, Iris told her quietly. ‘So many children made fatherless, that as a widow you will be far from alone.

It was obvious to her that Iris thought her pregnancy was the result of a reckless passion for a man who either could not, or would not, return to her.

Dry-eyed, Connie looked at her. The Captain might not be dead, but she certainly wished he was. And she wished the child she was carrying inside her might die also.

The child she was carrying inside her! A furious anger seized her. A child created out of lust and brutality; out of bestiality; forced upon her. Connie wanted to scream out the truth and with it her own
pain and anger. But who here, knowing her as she had been, would believe her? There was no point in telling Iris the truth. No point in telling anyone. She was condemned already by her own past.

She closed her eyes and protested passionately, ‘I do not want this. I do not want any of it.' Her misery broke through her self-control and her voice trembled as she cried out, ‘I cannot bear it.'

‘You must bear it, Connie,' Iris chided her firmly. ‘You must bear it as you will bear your child, with fortitude and strength. Believe me, there is no other way for you, and hard though it must seem now, one day your child will thank you for what you have done. For the respectability you have given it. The plain truth is that a bastard child must always carry a slur on its name, and so must its mother.'

Connie looked down at the rings she was wearing. ‘You have already taken the decision out of my hands.'