Marianne made her way with Phyllis to the arena of horses. They were all shapes and sizes since, as in England, so many had been taken away for the war effort. There were numerous ponies, too small to be of much use to the military, and to Marianne’s pleasant surprise, a fair number of fine hunters and such. But again, she supposed it was strong, carthorse types the armies needed most, not these more delicate creatures that would be worse than useless in harness up to their hocks or even deeper in mud and slime.
They made themselves known at the table of officials, and both were enlisted to ride in three races. Marianne wasn’t needed until the third one, so leaving Phyllis who was in the first, she went back to join their friends. However, the crowds were so dense that she couldn’t find them. Not that it mattered. She was enjoying herself immensely. Everyone was in buoyant mood, laughing and joking and calling to each other at the tops of their voices. The atmosphere was charged with excitement and Marianne felt a joyous happiness bubble up inside her. Only for a moment did she find herself wishing it was Pegasus she would be riding, but she refused to let the thought spoil her present pleasure and pushed it to the back of her mind.
She had been allocated a pony for her first race. It was a dear little mare, no more than twelve hands, but with Marianne being so light, it was able to give a good account of itself. It was just so wonderful to be back in the saddle that Marianne’s whole body fizzled with delight, and she was flushed with elation when they romped over the finishing line in third place.
‘Well done!’ She suddenly found herself surrounded by her friends who were jumping up and down with excitement. ‘I got my stake back and two francs to boot!’
‘That’ll make you rich! You can buy me a drink at the estaminet tonight.’
‘When’s your next race?’
‘It’s the sixth one. I’m riding this lovely girl again,’ Marianne explained, stroking the docile animal’s hairy neck. ‘I’d better take her back now and you can watch Phyllis in the next race.’
Marianne’s heart was rocked in contentment as she walked the pretty pony back to the enclosure and put the blanket back on her. Although the wind had dropped, it was overcast and cold, with no hint of spring in the air yet. Marianne wondered if the winter, like the war, would ever come to an end.
They didn’t do so well in the next race mainly because they were up against bigger horses, including some French cavalrymen. But Marianne didn’t mind. Being among horses again was soothing away the horrors she had been part of over the last few months. What she was looking forward to most was the final race in which she was to ride a beautiful Arab cross. She wondered who owned him, for most of the horses had been cajoled for the afternoon from local civilians.
A sparkle of pleasure twinkled in her heart as she mounted the magnificent beast. Their rivals were all of a similar calibre, and although Zéphyr as she was told he was called, wasn’t the biggest, she could feel the power of his muscled haunches as they trotted up to the start. Phyllis lined up beside her on a huge liver chestnut which was champing at the bit, eager to be away.
‘That one looks like a bit of a handful!’
‘Certainly is, but I think I can handle him!’ Phyllis grinned back. ‘Bet I beat you!’
‘Bet you don’t!’ Marianne bantered cheerfully.
A second later they were off. Marianne felt Zéphyr’s legs explode beneath her and they shot forward. Within a few strides, he had broken into a gallop and Marianne urged him on, glorying in his speed and the cold air against her flushed cheeks. The sand beneath them flew past in a blur as they went faster and faster, the pounding of hoofs like the very life-force within her. She glanced over her shoulder. They were leading the field, ahead even of two cavalry officers. Only Phyllis’s spirited mount was drawing level, and for half the course, they were neck and neck. But something jolted in Marianne’s mind and she heard Hal’s voice, as clear as day, shouting at her, ‘You can do it, sis!’
Her soul swelled as her whole body moved with the animal’s rhythm, leaning over the outstretched neck, her rear-end out of the saddle. She gripped only with her knees, taking the weight from the horse’s back as if she were a professional jockey. He responded in glorious ecstasy and streaked ahead, crossing the finishing line with the speed of a bullet and galloping on so that Marianne had to fight to slow him – reluctantly as there was nothing she would have relished more than racing for miles along the sand, as if some dam had burst inside her.
When she finally brought him to a walk and turned him round, strangers were running up to meet them.
‘God, that was amazing!’
‘I’ve never seen anyone go as fast as that along the sand!’
‘What’s your name?’ a reporter with a notebook and pen wanted to know. ‘Where did you learn to ride like that?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Marianne answered firmly. ‘I can’t answer any questions. I must see to the horse.’
‘Well done!’ Phyllis called, setting her own steed to walk beside them as they headed back to the makeshift enclosure. ‘You beat me fair and square.’
‘It was a close thing,’ Marianne said modestly, jumping from Zéphyr’s back and going in search of his blanket and something to rub him down with.
She had finished seeing to his welfare and handed him back to the ring officials. The furore had died down, thank goodness, for she had simply spilled over with the joy of the chase, and the attention was unwelcome. It was as she was walking alone back to join her friends that another voice hailed her.
‘That was superb, Miss Marianne. It is you, isn’t it?’
She frowned, a trifle irritated that someone else wanted to congratulate her when all she had done was to enjoy herself. Somewhere deep in her memory, the voice seemed vaguely familiar, but she turned round, ready to fob the person off with some platitude. And then her heart turned a cartwheel.
In front of her, dressed in an army greatcoat, stood the tall, slender figure she had recalled so many times. His face was gaunt and haggard, but the grey-blue eyes looked at her with the same translucent light, and when he politely removed his officer’s cap, the same sandy curl fell roguishly over his forehead.
A flicker of light burst into flame inside her. ‘Major Thorneycroft. Albert. Well, I never. But how on earth. . . ?’ She broke off, stunned with delight and confusion, and her fingers sizzled as he took off his glove to shake her hand.
‘I had some leave to take before things start hotting up again and I thought I’d come to Calais for a change. But I never expected to find you here. What a wonderful surprise! I see from your uniform that you joined the FANY.’
‘Yes,’ she said, wondering how on earth she could contain the tide of elation that washed through her. ‘I’d applied before . . . well, before . . . you know . . . Hal. . . .’ The thought cast a shadow over her happy surprise, but she brushed it aside. ‘I did my training and I’ve been out here since December.’
‘And doing a sterling job, I’m sure.’ Albert paused, and his grin widened. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you again. I’ve thought about you so often. I mean . . . I was so sorry I had to write that letter.’
Marianne’s mouth curved in a wistful smile. ‘It was beautifully written and brought us all great comfort.’
‘And your parents, how are they?’
‘Very well, thank you. Grieving, of course. But I’m sure they’ll be as surprised as I am when I tell them I bumped into you.’
They stared at each other, both smiling, unsure of the other, happy, hoping, yet not knowing what to say.
‘Er, is there anywhere we can go?’ Albert faltered at last. ‘Somewhere we can sit and talk? Can I buy you a drink? A coffee, somewhere?’
‘Oh.’ Marianne’s face fell. ‘I’m not allowed, I’m afraid. Not without permission. And I have to have a chaperone. Unless we go out to lunch in a public place. Although why that’s supposed to be
less innocuous I have no idea. How long are you here for?’
‘I’ve only just arrived. I’ve got a whole week.’
The expectant look on Albert’s face made Marianne’s heart sing. ‘I get a day off a month. I could try and take it this week. We could have lunch, and then maybe one of my friends could tag along afterwards as my chaperone.’
‘I should be delighted to meet any friend of yours. If I must!’ Albert said cheekily. ‘Look, this is where I’m staying.’ He pulled a notepad from his pocket and scribbled an address on a small square of paper. ‘Send me a message. But surely we can talk for a while now, before everyone leaves?’
‘Well, just for ten minutes. I’m officially on duty. So, tell me,’ Marianne asked, feeling at once relaxed and yet on edge with excitement, ‘where are you stationed at the moment?’
‘A Squadron’s billeted at a village called Hesdin-l’Abbé, near Boulogne. We do drills and practice manoeuvres and all that sort of thing. It’s all so depressing, really, that we’ve never had the chance to fight properly as a cavalry unit, although we’ve been used as infantry often enough. At the moment, it’s mainly a case of enduring the appalling weather and getting fodder for the horses. With all the U-boat attacks, the authorities have cut forage supplies to a minimum, and the stabling’s pretty poor, too.’
‘Oh, the poor things!’
‘Yes. And all for nothing, really. I’m so glad I didn’t requisition Pegasus from you. We did some vital communication work at the First Battle of Ypres, but since then, we’ve stood to our horses so often, but nothing much has ever come of it. The nature of warfare has changed so much. More than anything, we’ve been used as dismounted reserves. We were in the front line at the Second Battle of Ypres, and lost a lot of men and officers.’
‘You were wounded yourself, weren’t you, I think Hal said?’
Albert gave a wistful smile. ‘Yes, I was. Out of action for a few months, but back in time to serve at Loos, but all we did there was bury the dead. There was a vicious battle in the same area shortly afterwards and we were very much involved in that but dismounted again. But then all last year, virtually nothing.’ Albert puffed out his cheeks despondently, but then the smile crept back onto his face. ‘Listen to me, rambling on when we’ve precious little time if you’re to obey the rules.’ He lifted one eyebrow rakishly, at the same time jabbing his head towards where the crowds had almost dispersed.
‘Rules are made to be broken,’ Marianne grinned back. ‘I ought to be going. But I really will try to get my day off this week.’
‘Promise? Oh, it’s been so good to see you again. It’s been like bumping into an old friend, even though we hardly know each other.’
‘We had those few days at home on Dartmoor,’ Marianne reminded him. ‘It wasn’t long, but we did find some sort of kindred spirit.’
‘Yes, I believe we did.’ Albert’s eyes seemed to light with a thousand stars. ‘So, I’ll await your message?’
‘Most definitely. Until then.’
She turned, dragging herself away and forcing herself not to look back. Well, that was a turn-up for the books. In all the chaos and carnage of the war, she had met up with the one man in the world who had moved her heart. Apart from Michael Bradley, whom she didn’t count anymore. But it was sheer madness to think anything might come of it. Albert had to survive the war for a start. No. As her mother had said, it was better not to get involved. And she had turned her back on that sort of thing long ago, hadn’t she? Nevertheless, she found herself humming softly as she made her way back to the FANY camp.
‘Who was that gorgeous officer you were talking to?’ Stella asked her enviously as they sat in the mess for dinner that evening.
‘Someone I once met back home.’ Marianne gave a casual shrug but somehow couldn’t suppress the euphoria that frothed up inside her. She glanced round furtively to make sure no one was in earshot before continuing in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘He’s Major Thorneycroft of the 15th The King’s Hussars, my father’s old regiment and my poor late brother’s as well. We got to know each other a little back in Blighty shortly after the war started. It was an amazing coincidence we should meet again.’
‘Lucky you,’ Stella sighed, and then she asked cheekily, ‘Anything in it?’
‘Well, actually. . .’ Marianne bit her lip, trying to damp down her emotions, but it was impossible. ‘I’ve put in for this month’s leave. He’s in Calais for a week, so I’m going to ask Tanky’s permission to have lunch with him. And maybe dinner, if you’ll agree to be my chaperone.’
Stella’s face lit up. ‘I wouldn’t mind a jot having dinner with him even if I’m playing gooseberry.’
‘Oh, thanks, Stell. You’re a brick!’
‘I know,’ she said airily, and both of them collapsed in giggles.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Albert blinked his eyes wide in happy surprise. ‘Miss Marianne! Oh, for a while then I wasn’t sure you were coming.’
‘What, after my note?’
‘You could have changed your mind.’
‘I don’t usually. I’m just a bit late. Sorry about that. We were de-coking our engine and I couldn’t leave until we had the cylinder block back in place.’
‘That all sounds very technical. I’m impressed. I can drive a motorcar as you know, but I know very little about the mechanics of the things.’
‘Nor did I until joined the FANY and we had to go on courses and pass them before we could come out here. To de-coke an engine, you have to hoist the complete cylinder block clear of the pistons before you can get at them and the valves. And when you’ve finished, you have to squeeze the piston rings back into place around each piston.’
‘Well, you learn something new every day,’ Albert smiled, taking her coat. ‘Do sit down. What’ll you have? The menu’s rather limited, I’m afraid,’ he grimaced.
‘They are everywhere. Now let me see. Croque Monsieur, Omelette aux Fines Herbes or Coq au Vin. That should be best. There might not be much chicken in it, but wine is something the French seem to have an endless supply of.’
‘In that case, une bouteille de votre meilleur vin blanc, s’il vous plaît, monsieur,’ Albert called to the restaurateur, and then turned back to Marianne with a saucy grin. ‘Now tell me, Miss FANY Warrington, what’s life like out here for you?’
Marianne couldn’t help but giggle at his playful mood. ‘In a word, cold,’ she told him. ‘Our huts have more holes in them than a colander, and we have to melt our washing water over an oil stove. We keep having air-raids, and we don’t have windscreens so we have no protection against the wind and the sleet and the snow. Of course, it’s been so icy that we slide about all over the place, and we’re not allowed headlights so we can’t see where we’re going at night. To top it all, we don’t even get proper army rations, so this meal will be a banquet for which I am truly grateful.’
The restaurateur came over with the wine, then, and nodded at Albert with a knowing wink, commenting, ‘Très jolie!’ into his customer’s ear in what was supposed to be a whisper. Albert and Marianne just managed to keep their faces straight long enough to order their meal before bursting into laughter the moment the old fellow had shuffled out to the back.
‘I wish my pal, Stella, could have seen that!’ Marianne spluttered. ‘You’d think she’s a little mouse, but she’s actually a very good actress and a brilliant mimic. But you’ll meet her later. She’s going to be our chaperone.’
‘I shall look forward to meeting her. But you were telling me about your work here.’
Marianne pursed her lips solemnly. ‘Well, it can be pretty grim at times. Not just the conditions we face ourselves, but the appalling cases we see. Our discomforts are nothing by comparison. Gas victims, men with limbs blown off, shrapnel and bullet wounds to every imaginable part. But I don’t need to tell you. You’ll have seen it for yourself. Some are s
o dreadful I can’t imagine how they made it this far. Of course, a lot of them don’t make it any further. And you know how when someone’s dying, they sometimes bring relatives over from Blighty to be at their bedside? Well, sometimes it falls to us to meet them off the ship and take them to the hospital. That can be absolutely heartbreaking.’
‘Yes, I can imagine,’ Albert said gravely, and took her hand across the table. There was nothing romantic in the gesture. It was simply comforting, as one human being to another, and it gave Marianne the strength to continue.
‘Despite our name, we don’t do that much actual nursing. We carry certain dressings, but most of that sort of thing’s already been done. If there is anything like that, Stella does most of it, and I do the driving. There’s paperwork, of course, and sometimes we have to change the men out of their filthy uniforms when we get to whichever hospital it is, and get them into pyjamas. One of the worst things though, is cleaning out the ambulance after a run. Doing corpses isn’t as bad as that.’
‘Oh, dear, I wish I hadn’t asked.’ Albert gave a nervous laugh. ‘And not the best topic when we’re just about to eat a meal.’
Marianne shrugged. ‘You soon get used to it. Not the appalling injuries and loss of life, but coping with it. And we do other things as well. Have you heard of James?’
‘James?’ Albert frowned doubtfully.
‘Oh. Not as famous as we thought, then. Our mobile bath. We can do two hundred and fifty baths a day and fumigate all the uniforms as well. It’s all rather fun and the men are so grateful afterwards. And we ran a soldiers’ canteen for a few months during the worst of the winter. And, of course, we put on concerts! We call ourselves the Fantastiks. It’s all rather fun. There’s one girl who’s a brilliant ventriloquist and her friend plays the dummy. She sticks red paper on her cheeks and wears a hospital gown. It really is very funny.’
Teardrops in the Moon Page 15
