by Holly Green
‘Are you a relative?’
‘I’m his fiancée.’ She had never realised how useful that spurious title might be.
‘You can come back this afternoon if you like. But I don’t expect he will be conscious enough to speak to you.’
‘Can I ask how badly he is wounded?’
‘A bullet is lodged at the base of his spine. We will not know how serious the damage is until after the operation.’
‘Couldn’t I see him, just for a moment, before he goes to theatre?’
‘No, I’m sorry. If I let you on the ward I should have to let all the other visitors on and then we should never get through the work. I’ll tell him you were here. That’s the best I can do. What name shall I say?’
‘Leo. Just Leo.’
At 2.30 Leo was back at the hospital, in company with a crowd of mothers and wives carrying bunches of flowers and bags of grapes.
A different sister glanced down a list of patients and said doubtfully, ‘Lieutenant Devenish is back from theatre, but I think you’ll find he’s still very woozy. You can sit with him if you like but he may not know you’re there.’
Leo walked down the ward, between the long rows of beds with their tightly drawn white bedcovers, in an atmosphere that was at once familiar and alien. The men lying in the beds reminded her of Lozengrad and Adrianople. She had seen similar wounds there; similar expressions on their faces of pain or long-suffering courage. But the smells and squalor of Adrianople were missing, replaced by immaculate cleanliness; and the atmosphere of cheerful banter she recalled from Lozengrad had been replaced by a sense of military discipline that hushed the voices of patients and visitors alike. It was impossible to imagine these men sitting up to shout ‘Mellie Chissimas!’
The screens were drawn round Tom’s bed and on passing through them she was shocked by his appearance. His face was as white as the pillow; the skin drawn tight over his skull, so that his nose and cheekbones looked razor sharp, and the whites of his eyes showed between half-closed lids. She had seen men close to death look like this. She leaned over him and stroked his cheek.
‘Tom? It’s Leo. You’re in hospital. You’ve been hurt, but you’re going to be all right.’
The eyelids fluttered and the cracked lips moved soundlessly. She understood what he wanted. An enamel mug of water stood on the locker by the bed and she slid an arm under his neck and raised his head so that he could take a sip.
‘No more now. You can have more later.’
She watched him struggling back to consciousness, saw the signs of mounting nausea and supported him while he vomited; then wiped his lips with her handkerchief. His eyes were fully open now.
‘Ralph!’ It was a hoarse whisper.
‘It’s all right. Don’t try to talk yet.’
‘Ralph’s dead.’
‘Yes, I know, my dear. I’m so sorry.’
He was silent for a while, and when he spoke his voice was stronger. ‘He died in my arms, Leo. He wasn’t alone.’
She swallowed a sob. ‘I’m glad. That would have meant a lot to him.’
‘I tried to get him back. I was looking for him … but he was too badly hurt … and then …’
‘You were wounded trying to save him. Of course, I should have known. Bless you, Tom.’
He seemed to slip back into sleep and she sat for some time holding his hand in silence. Then he opened his eyes again. ‘I should have gone with him. I thought we were going together.’
‘But you didn’t. You’re alive, thank God.’
The expression on his face was so bleak that it caught at her heart. ‘I should have gone too,’ he repeated.
‘No!’ she replied. ‘No, Tom. You had to stay alive for me. I need you, Tom. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
The words were out of her mouth before she realised that they were truer than she had ever imagined.
He slept again then, until the bell rang for the end of visiting hours.
The following afternoon the sister drew her aside from the crowd of other visitors.
‘I understand you are Lieutenant Devenish’s fiancée. Is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought I ought to warn you. The surgeons say it is very unlikely that he will ever walk again.’
Leo nodded. The news did not come as a shock. She had dealt with men wounded in that way before. ‘Does he know?’
‘Yes. The surgeon spoke to him this morning.’
‘I’ll go and sit with him.’
Walking down the ward she tried to imagine how Tom was feeling. What could she say that might be of some comfort? He was propped up on pillows and the death’s head look had gone, but his eyes were blank and he did not smile as she bent to kiss his cheek.
‘Have they told you?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry, my dear. It’s a rotten thing to happen – but it could have been much worse. We both know that.’
He stared ahead without expression. ‘It doesn’t matter. I should have gone with Ralph. That’s what I wanted. Why didn’t they leave me with him?’
‘How could they? You were alive, and every life is valuable. You mustn’t blame yourself, Tom. You did everything you could, and you were with him at the end. He must have found that a great comfort. Now you have to think of your own life. You must get well and strong again, and then we’ll make plans for the best way to deal with this.’
‘We?’ he said.
‘Of course. I’m not going to let you cope with this on your own.’
He looked at her then and she saw a flicker of life in his eyes. ‘Dear Leo! But you mustn’t throw yourself away on a lost cause. You’ve got more important things to do.’
‘You are not a lost cause! And I don’t want to hear any more of that sort of talk. I thought you were made of sterner stuff, Tom Devenish!’
He dropped his gaze and she thought her words had gone home, but he said nothing more. After a moment she went on, ‘Does your mother know you are here?’
‘I suppose she will have been told. But I doubt if she has understood. How did you know?’
‘Your solicitors wrote to me.’
‘Of course, I remember. I told them to get in touch if anything …’
‘I’m glad you did.’
There seemed to be no more to say and after a moment he closed his eyes and fell asleep. Leo sat on for a while, busy with her own thoughts. Then she got up, kissed him lightly on the forehead and set off back to Sussex Gardens.
‘Vita, I can’t go!’
‘What? Can’t go where?’
Victoria looked up from a pile of paperwork.
‘I can’t go to Salonika. Not now. Not yet. Tom is going to need me and I can’t let him down.’
‘Why? How bad is it?’
‘They say he won’t walk again. But I don’t think that is what is troubling him. He thinks he should have died with Ralph. He hasn’t really taken the rest of it in yet. But you do see, don’t you? I can’t leave him.’
‘Yes, I see that,’ Victoria responded, frowning. ‘But that lot in the hall is being collected the day after tomorrow and we can’t leave it to rot on the docks in the Piraeus. Someone has to arrange for it to be trans-shipped.’
‘There must be someone we could contact. Maybe my father’s old friend at the FO could suggest something.’
‘No need.’ Victoria got up decisively. ‘I’ll go. You can follow on later when you’ve got Tom settled somewhere.’
‘You can’t go all that way on your own!’
Victoria gave a derisive laugh. ‘Oh, come on, Leo! It wouldn’t be the first time. I got back on my own from our last little expedition, if you remember.’
‘Of course I remember. But I still don’t like to think of you having to cope with everything by yourself.’
‘I’ll be fine. After all, Athens isn’t exactly the back of beyond. I’ll arrange for the stuff to be transported to Salonika and go with it to make sure it’s distributed to the right people. T
hen I’ll wait for you to join me. You do still plan to go eventually?’
‘Of course I do!’ Leo sat down and rested her head on her hands. For days she had been buoyed up by the thought that soon she would be back in Salonika, ready to seize the first opportunity to head for Bitola and the village where she had been parted from her baby. Now she would have to wait longer. ‘You know how much I want to get out there. But I have a duty to Tom, too.’
‘Of course you do,’ Victoria agreed. She put her hand on Leo’s shoulder. ‘After all, a few weeks won’t make much difference. I can see that the troops get their comforts and we wouldn’t be able to do anything else until the spring comes. You can stay here with Tom until after Christmas and still be in Salonika in plenty of time.’
Leo nodded unwillingly. ‘I suppose it makes sense, but I’m not happy about leaving it all to you.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ her friend said. ‘I’ll be fine.’
The following morning Leo was busy putting the labels on the last crates when the doorbell rang. Beavis opened the front door to reveal Luke on the doorstep. She jumped up and ran to him.
‘Luke! You’re in civvies. What has happened?’
It was only then that she saw how pale he was and how sore and red his eyes appeared. He took the hand she offered and said, in an uncharacteristically husky voice, ‘Got a whiff of some new gas the Jerries are using. The medics reckon I’m not fit for active service any more. So here I am, a free man, just waiting for a boat to take me back home.’
‘Oh, Luke. How awful!’
He shook his head with a grin, ‘Don’t look like that. It’s not life threatening. They reckon with time I’ll be fine. But it’s bought me my ticket home.’
‘I don’t know whether to sympathise or congratulate you,’ Leo said. ‘But speaking personally I’m just very glad that you are out of it. At least one person I care about is going to survive.’ She drew him into the house. ‘Come on in and sit down. Beavis, can we have some coffee, please? Come into the morning room. There’s a fire in there.’
When they were seated in front of the fire he said, ‘You said something about one person you cared for being safe. Does that mean you’ve lost someone?’
‘My brother, Ralph,’ Leo said. It was hard to put it into words, even now. ‘Killed in action, not far from where you have been until lately, I imagine.’
‘Poor fellow!’ Luke said. ‘I’m really sorry to hear that, Leo.’
Leo sighed. ‘I suppose it was inevitable. He had been in the fighting right from the beginning. It’s a miracle that he survived so long. So many didn’t. Soldiering was his whole life, so at least he died doing what he regarded as his duty. In some ways it’s harder for the survivors.’ She went on to tell him about Tom’s condition.
Luke shook his head with a sigh.
‘I never met Tom, or your brother, but I feel I almost did, from reading your letters. I don’t know which one to be more sorry for. I guess in some ways Tom has the worst deal.’
‘That’s what I meant. But I’m determined not to let him feel that way. Tom’s alive and I’m going to make sure he’s grateful for every extra day.’
‘Well, he’s lucky to have you to help him.’ He paused. ‘Didn’t you tell me once that you and he were engaged?’
‘We still are,’ Leo said, ‘but that’s another story. Have another cup of coffee?’
Her tone effectively put an end to that topic of conversation, as she had intended.
After a moment’s silence Luke said, ‘What’s all that stuff in the hallway. Are you moving out, Leo?’
She smiled, glad of the chance to change the subject. ‘No, not yet, anyway. It’s comforts for the troops out in Serbia.’ She went on to explain about her fundraising efforts and the arrangements she had made for the shipping of the goods. ‘The trouble is,’ she ended, ‘there is no one to oversee the last leg of the journey. Victoria and I were going out to Athens, but now I can’t leave Tom.’
At that moment Beavis announced Victoria. Luke heaved himself to his feet and held out his hand.
Victoria stopped short and Leo saw her colour come and go. Then she came forward and shook Luke’s hand in a manner that struck Leo as being unnecessarily formal. Luke explained again how he came to be there and when they were settled and Beavis had been despatched for fresh coffee he said, ‘Leo has been telling me about the goods you are sending out to Salonika. I think it’s a splendid idea. Lord knows those fellows get little enough in the way of home comforts. But I gather you have a problem getting them there from Athens, now Leo feels she has to stay in London.’
‘That’s solved.’ Victoria said. ‘I’m going on my own.’
Leo saw Luke straighten in his seat. ‘Not while I can stand on two feet, you won’t! I’ll come with you.’
She caught her breath. ‘Luke, you can’t. You’re supposed to be going home.’
‘So what? I can go home via Salonika. It’s almost on the way.’
Victoria patted her bad leg and jerked her chin towards Luke. ‘I’ve heard of the blind leading the blind, but isn’t this going to be a case of the lame helping the lame?’
He grinned. ‘Exactly. We can compensate for each other’s deficiencies. At least we’ve got two good legs between us.’
‘What are we preparing for – a three-legged race?’ she flashed back.
‘Oh, come on, Vicky,’ he said. ‘It’ll be like old times. What do you say?’
She looked at him with narrowed eyes. ‘On one condition.’
‘Which is?’
‘That you promise never, ever to call me Vicky again.’
He laughed. ‘You win. I promise.’
‘Are you sure you’re up to it, Luke,’ Leo asked, ‘Joking apart? I’d be much happier in my own mind knowing you were with Vita, but it won’t help if your health gives way.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ he assured her. ‘Now I’ve had a chance to rest up I’m improving every day.’
Leo still had doubts about the whole enterprise but it quickly became clear that, in spite of her initial reaction, Victoria was as keen on the idea as Luke was and between them they overrode her arguments. The next day they saw the crates loaded onto a lorry and followed them to the docks, where they were winched on board a freighter.
There followed a period of relative inactivity, which Leo filled with daily visits to Tom in hospital. His physical condition improved slowly, but she was increasingly worried by his mental state. She took him books and newspapers, which he did not open; so she resorted to reading aloud to him. He showed some interest in news from the battle front, but the attacks had finally been called off on November 12th, with little ground gained in exchange for the thousands of lives that had been sacrificed. Another winter of stalemate faced the exhausted troops and there was little in the news to cheer anyone. Seeking some light relief, she began reading him Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat. This raised the occasional pale smile but after a few pages it was clear that he was no longer listening. The only time she felt she really had his attention was when she took in a recently published book of poetry by Robert Graves. When she read him ‘The Morning before the Battle’ he nodded slowly.
‘That is the work of someone who understands because he’s been there. Only someone like that can salvage something worthwhile out of the chaos.’
Early in December, Victoria and Luke left on the first leg of their journey. Preoccupied with Tom, Leo had scarcely noticed how much time they were spending together but as she saw them off at the station she became aware that there had been developments in their relationship. Victoria no longer seemed on the defensive and much of the old camaraderie had returned, but there was a deeper undercurrent. They still laughed and teased each other but there was a quiet understanding in their eyes that suggested neither of them was going to repeat their earlier mistakes.
Left on her own, Leo sank back into her previous lethargy. Over the previous months the hard work of organising the fun
draising and travelling to speaking engagements, and subsequently her visits to Tom, had allowed her to put her own tragedy to the back of her mind. Now the memory of Sasha’s death and the loss of her daughter were joined by the full realisation of her brother’s death. He was her only relative and without him she was completely alone in the world. She remembered the adventures they had shared growing up together; and the bitter disagreements that had followed. At least they had parted on good terms; but even that reconciliation had been based on a deceit – the deceit that she and Tom intended to marry. Now Tom was all that was left of her old life and she was beginning to doubt whether he would ever recover fully. Striving to throw off her own depression, it was doubly hard to find ways to raise his spirits.
Soon after Victoria and Luke’s departure, Tom was discharged from hospital and sent to a private nursing home in Surrey to recuperate. Victoria had left Sparky, her car, in Leo’s care, so she was able to drive down to visit him every few days. The journey through the darkening country lanes, where the rain dripped endlessly from the leafless trees, seemed to Leo to symbolise everything she felt.
Then one afternoon she arrived to find Tom in the unheated conservatory, wrapped to the chin in blankets and sweaters, sitting in his wheelchair in front of an easel, with a brush in one hand and palette in the other.
She hurried to kiss his cheek. ‘Tom, you’re painting again! I’m so pleased!’
He looked up at her with a small, wry smile. ‘I woke up yesterday morning and realised I was wallowing in self-pity and there was no justification for it. I can still see and I have the use of both my arms. So I can paint, which is all I have ever wanted to do. Besides—’ he indicated the canvas in front of him ‘—there are things I need to get off my chest.’
Leo saw the half-formed outlines of bodies, lying in contorted heaps, and shuddered. But she squeezed his shoulder. ‘Yes, you’re right. People need to see what you’ve seen, and you need to show them. Well done, my dear!’
He reached for her hand. ‘I’ve drawn on you for comfort, at a time when I should have been trying to give it instead. I’m sorry.’
