For King and Country (37 page)

‘I warn you, if you say anything about Nurse Wilde, there’s plenty might be said about you,’ he’d warned her.

‘I’ve lost my good name because of you,’ she’d told him, ‘and now you’re betraying me.’

‘I’m not betraying you, and I won’t – unless you force me.’ He’d looked as if he meant it, and it had shut Dunkley up, for the moment. Whatever Dr Campbell
might have done in the past, that one shining deed, that kindness towards her in her hour of need redeemed him for ever in Sally’s eyes, and she loved him for it.

But there had been such venom in the glance Dunkley had shot at her. Poor Dunkley! How she must be suffering! During her half-hour walk back to Jesmond, Sally began to think of everything she
should have said in the hallway, and berated herself because she hadn’t. ‘Don’t speak to me like that. I’m not your little probationer now!’ would have been a good
start. Never mind, she’d save that for next time. Her scalp was sore but her step became jaunty, and her lips parted in a smile.

Dunkley had dished plenty of pain out to other people, in her time. Let
her
suffer, for a change!

‘It’s a good thing for the nation that not all its soldiers ran away,’ Miss Brewster said, revealing her large yellow teeth in a smile of derision as she
leaned forward to pour Will another glass of her Christmas batch of home distilled ‘whisky’. ‘Lucky for us that some men had the guts to fight for England and see the thing
through to the finish. At least we’ve got some heroes to boast about.’

They had maintained an uneasy truce for the past few days, but Miss Brewster had made quite an evening of sampling her Christmas batch, and after holding forth about her father’s exploits
in India and the decorations he’d received, had moved on to the topic of the war in France, evidently in the mood for baiting him again.

Unfortunately Will also had a fair quantity of homemade spirit inside him, and was in no mood to knuckle under this time. Flexing his fists he turned to Miss Brewster, an angry flush spreading
over his face, the veins becoming prominent on his forehead. ‘Aye, my three brothers were among the lads who fought for England,’ he snarled, ‘but they didn’t see it through
to the finish either. The war saw them through to the finish; they’re all dead. I was with our Jack when it was his turn, and I can tell you there was nothing bloody heroic about
it.’

He took a gulp of spirits. ‘I’ll tell you about men who’ve got the guts to fight for England, if you want to know something about heroes,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell
you about the attack that finished one of my brothers. We got sent over the top in broad bloody daylight, and we had to go for the German position in extended order with a gap of about five or ten
feet between us, over ground churned up by bombardment and littered with all sorts. My bother went over in the wave before me, and we never fired a bullet. We never saw a bloody German to fire at,
but they saw us all right, because we walked into one continual hail of bullets and shrapnel. We never got the chance to shoot at all. We could see nothing to shoot at.

‘I saw our Jack spin round and fall in front of me, though, and I was supposed to leave him and go on for the attack, but I didn’t. I dropped, and crawled over to him and flattened
down beside him, bullets and bloody shells dropping everywhere, man. He’d got a one in the chest, and he couldn’t move, neither hand nor foot. So I was looking round for some cover, and
there was a dead mule a few yards off, and I thought, if I can get him behind that he might be safe until we can get back to him. So I had to drag him there, poor lad, and he never made a murmur.
Then I scrambled forward with the rest. We kept on for about six hundred yards, and after we’d lost hundreds of men and gained nothing, we got the order to go back.

‘England’s “heroes” died like bloody cattle, worse than cattle, and not for England, either, if you want my opinion – not for any of the people
we
know in
England, anyway. More for money people, and bloody politicians, and brainless generals. And that’s the way all my brothers went – their lives were thrown away.’

A strangled sound, something between a bellow of rage and a sob escaped him. Startled, both women looked at the pain-contorted, ruined face, and looked away again. The silence grew heavy, broken
only by the relentless ticking of the grandfather clock.

At last, Sally asked, ‘What happened to Jack?’

‘Why, he got left there! What else? The stretcher-bearers bring the ones in who’ve got a chance first, like, and he had none. So they left him the first time and he was dead by the
time they went back to him. He got fetched in with the rest of the dead, and piled up outside the dressing station. A couple of days later I was with the fatigue party that shovelled him into the
mud, along with a lot more. No wonder my poor mother thought she’d made enough sacrifices for England.’

‘She made three too many,’ said Sally, directing a warning glance at Miss Brewster. It was unnecessary. The smile had been wiped right off her face.

Silence again, save the ticking of the clock. Will was scowling into his glass, but Sally sensed that he was near to tears. She attempted to cheer him.

‘It’ll be Christmas before long, the first Christmas of peacetime. That’s something to be glad about.’

‘There’s too many people not here to see it,’ Will said. ‘Like my three brothers. Christmas has come a bit late for them, like. I’ve got nothing to be glad about,
or my mother, either. Three good sons. Three canny lads – all slaughtered, and another one that’ll be good for nothing, unless this arm heals. Nobody knows the torture they went
through, all our lads, day after day and night after night. Nobody’ll ever know, because the more they suffered, the less they want to talk about it. People in England have no idea. You
daren’t write home and tell anybody, they’d have had you up in front of a court martial. And anyway, you couldn’t describe it. Nobody could imagine it, unless they’d been
there.’

He seemed to slump, and his anger turned to grief. He took out a handkerchief and blew his nose, all the fight gone out of him.

‘Oh, dear me.’ Sally heaved a sigh, wondering how his mother was, hoping she wouldn’t have to bring him news of another bereavement after her visit to Annsdale. She had an
overpowering desire to put her arms round him, to try to comfort him, but not here, not with Miss Brewster looking on. Will wasn’t known in this locality; they might risk a short walk. She
crossed to the window and held back the curtain. The street was lit by a full moon and a few people were about, including one she’d seen before, a young lad leaning against a lamppost
opposite the house. With a sudden qualm, she remembered Dunkley’s threats of vengeance, and looked more intently. What was he doing, hanging about in the freezing cold?

No, she was giving way to hysteria. It was just some lad waiting for a sweetheart, or a friend, she thought, and dropped the curtain. Still, better stay inside, just in case. She would go into
Will’s room tonight, after Miss Brewster had gone to bed. She’d never realize. She’d drunk enough to knock herself out for a week.

H
is curtains were open, and she could see him from the open door still dressed and lying at full stretch on the bed staring at the ceiling, his
injured left arm in its sling. ‘Come in, Sally.’

‘How did you know it was me?’

‘Why, it’s not likely to be
her
, is it? Come in, and shut the door.’

She left the door open, and with her dressing gown wrapped tightly around her, went and sat beside him.

‘You know what Raynor says?’ he demanded. ‘He says war’s a racket. There are people who want wars, people who get fat on them, like international bankers, and arms
dealers, and corrupt politicians. So they start the wars, and then they send fools like us to get maimed and slaughtered. Then at the finish, we come out of it limbless and faceless, and they come
out of it rich. I believe him, an’ all.’

‘Why, maybe he’s right, I don’t know. But why don’t you get into bed? You must be freezing.’

‘It’s not that cold. Not with these radiators she has going.’

‘But they’re cold. She doesn’t stoke the boiler all night. She couldn’t get the coal.’

‘She gets plenty. It seems as if you can get anything you like if you know where to go, and you’ve got the money to pay. I keep wondering how she’s managed to get all the sugar
she uses for making the booze, but she won’t tell me. She gets it, though.’

‘She went too far tonight. I told her to shut up about it in future, after you’d gone to bed.’

‘That would do a lot of good. Anyway, I’ve taken no hurt.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Aye, I’m sure. I don’t get patronized, I don’t get pitied, and I get no quarter. She’s maybe doing me some good.’

She moved nearer to him. ‘I’m cold, even if you’re not.’

He looked up at her, his teeth glinting in the darkness. ‘We’ll get into bed, then, shall we?’

‘No. But we could get off the quilt, and put it over us.’

‘That’s better,’ he said, after they’d arranged the eiderdown over themselves. ‘Now cuddle up to me.’

Sally complied, and he raised his right hand to stroke her hair. She winced, and pushed it away.

‘Why, what’s the matter?’

‘I’ve been in a battle an’ all, or more a catfight, like, and I’ve lost a bit of hair there.’

‘What? Who with?’

‘Nurse Dunkley. She never liked me, and she got a hold of me just as I was leaving the hospital.’

‘Why, I never liked her, but I wouldn’t have believed she’d sink to a catfight. I’ll bet I know who it was over, though.’

‘Who?’

‘Dr Campbell. She knows he’s sweet on you.’

‘No, he isn’t.’

‘He is, and many’s the time I’ve thought you were sweet on him an’ all.’

‘What do you think now?’

‘I think if you liked him all that much, you wouldn’t be lying here beside me.’

‘Is that right?’

With his lips almost touching her ear he murmured: ‘Women have got an awful power over men, Sal.’

‘Have they?’

‘Aye, they have.’

‘And did you feel that power when you were in France, Will?’

‘You feel it everywhere, but in France I didn’t see many women. I was with a company of men, most of the time.’

‘What about when you were in the rest areas? There were women there, or so I’ve heard. The sort of women that a lot of men like to carry on with.’

‘Ah.’

She pulled back, and turned to face him. ‘Ah, what?’

‘Just – ah!’

‘Ah!’ she leaned over him, gazing intently into his face. ‘That’s not an answer.’

‘Why, if the question is was I one of the men that carried on with that “sort of woman” in France, the answer’s no.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure.’

She lay back and relaxed against him. He nuzzled her cheek, and the feel of his warm breath on her neck sent a thrill of desire through her, making her guarded. That feeling wasn’t to be
trusted; it must be the selfsame one that had driven Dunkley to throw her reputation away for the sake of Dr Campbell.

‘Let’s get into bed, Sally.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because if we do, something might happen that I don’t want to happen. Not yet, anyway.’

‘Why not? You’re safe with me. You’ll be all right. I love you.’

She stroked his cheek in answer, but otherwise lay silent.

He pulled her closer. ‘Why not? Why not?’ he urged. ‘Nothing will happen, and if it did, she’d never hear us. She’s had enough to fell a horse.’

Sally shook her head slightly, but said nothing.

‘You’re a funny lass, Sally. I don’t really know where I am with you. You move heaven and earth to get me out of harm’s way, but when it comes to anything else, you push
me away. You can’t stomach me because of the mess my face is in. That’s the top and bottom of it.’

‘It’s not. If you want to know what I think, it’s a better face for you than the one you had before.’

‘Why, how do you make that out?’

‘The one you had before made you too vain. Too full of yourself.’

‘Hm. I had something to be vain about, with that face. And maybe you’d never have been interested in me if I hadn’t had it.’

‘I never was interested in you, remember.’

‘Aye, I do remember. I wanted to be your knight in shining armour, and you were the only lass in the village that didn’t want a one.’

‘Oh, I wanted a knight in shining armour,’ she said, ‘but you had too many princesses. You were in love with them all, and I didn’t want to be one of a crowd.’

‘I was in love with everything once. You mind that bonny day we bumped into each other in the park, long before your Lizzie’s wedding? I was in love with the sunshine on your face
and on those little golden hairs on your arms. I was in love with the clouds, and that little lass with her cough drops. She wanted to give us a one; do you mind that? I was even in love with the
feel of the grass prickling through my shirt and that tune the band was playing. What was it now?’

‘I forget.’

‘How can you forget? I haven’t forgotten,’ he said, and hummed a few bars.

‘“Tales from the Vienna Woods”,’ she said, and slipping her arm under his waist and pulling him close, she kissed his unblemished cheek. ‘What are you in love with
now?’

‘Only you.’

‘What else, then?’

‘This is a dark place, Sally. There’s nothing much to love here, except you.’

A cloud drifted over the moon, obscuring its light. Sally watched it for a moment, then said: ‘I’m a virgin, Will, and virginity – well, it’s something you can only give
once. When I give it, if I give it, I want it to be to my husband.’

He turned to face her. ‘I’ll be your husband, if you’ll take a husband with a face people will cross the street sooner than look at.’

She kissed his cheek again and sat up. ‘I’d better go.’

He held her back. ‘No, don’t. Stay with me. I’ll keep you warm, and never bother, I’ll show you what a good lad I can be, if that’s what you want.’

‘Mutti!’

The heavy curtains were still open, and a grey dawn was peeping through the window when she was awoken by a cry. She turned to see anguish on his face, and squeezed his hand.