Never Another You

by Leeann Whitaker

  Jack’s eyes were fixated on her tense body, waiting. All the effort to abstain from her feelings, would not work if he wasn’t going to leave her alone. She grinned with a nod of her head, politely refusing.

  “What’s the big deal?” he asked with a baffled lift of his brow.

  Nell’s cheeks burned from pink to scarlet. “I can’t,” she said in a sigh. “I have work to do.”

  Even though she refused, instead of making a hasty retreat, she found her black shoes had locked down onto the floor. Her mind and heart were in conflict with each other. Her head told her to walk away, and her heart waited for him to talk her around to the idea. To sweeten her like he did in his youth.

  “Eleanor, I’m not asking for your hand in marriage,” he said. “I can see you’re already taken,” he dipped his head to the ring on her finger.

  Nell looked down at her wedding ring as tiny pieces of her heart began to crack apart. The only time he called her by her Christian name, was when they first met and he thought of her as some spoilt brat.

  “Well?” he pushed his luck, puckering his lips.

  She let out a long breath, walked over to the back of his wheelchair, and wrapped her fingers around the handles.

  “Ten minutes,” she said decisively.

  It was a bright pleasant day. The faint scent of engine oil carried in the wind from the military vehicles that came through the town daily. The only clouds in the sky were the hazy plane trails, left behind by those who wouldn’t be enjoying the nice weather, but fighting in the skies to protect the boarder.

  A cool refreshing breeze blew at Nell’s back as she pushed the chair through the newly bloomed colourful flowerbeds, and vegetable patches in the enclosed hospital garden. Her arms began to ache as the friction of the wheels against the gravel became burdensome. But it didn’t stop her going as fast as she could. They moved quickly by the large green poly-tunnel where carrots, cabbages, broccolis, and many more vegetables grew. And before she knew it, they had reached the red brick wall at the very end.

  “Can we just stop?” Jack asked in a huff. “For a few minutes, there,” he pointed to a bench beneath a weeping willow tree.

  “Jack,” Nell sighed.

  “You can leave me if you need to get back,” he said. “I’d just like to sit out here for a while.”

  Nell knew she couldn’t leave him. He was a patient in her care, so reluctantly she wheeled him next to the bench. As soon as she stopped, he began to shuffle to the edge, using his hands to push himself up. He huffed and puffed as Nell rushed before him, worried.

  “Jack, sit back in that chair,” she snapped.

  “I’m going to sit on that bench if it kills me.”

  With all his strength, he shifted his body and plonked himself down onto the wood slats, letting out a determined groan.

  “I don’t understand why I’m so damn weak,” he said in frustration.

  “You bumped your head, and it can affect your whole body,” Nell said, perching on the opposite edge beside the cast-iron arm.

  “Well, I’m giving it a week. If I’m not fully mobile, and my mind is still away with the fairies, you can put me out of my misery,” he joked.

  Nell didn’t laugh. It wasn’t funny at all to her. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

  “Sorry,” he said with a rueful tilt of his head.

  The branches above flailed in the breeze, casting shadows before their feet. Nell closed her eyes momentarily, because the sound reminded her of the long grass in the field where he kissed her for the first time.

  “Penny for them,” Jack broke her daydream.

  She turned to find him gazing curiously. “Nothing, just thinking about how serene it is out here, like the world is at peace.”

  “I wish I could imagine something over than battle,” he said, lowering his head.

  “You really can’t remember what it was like before the war?”

  “No. All that seems to play over and over in my head, is fire, explosions, and the faces of men I was supposed to be responsible for,” he exhaled.

  “It must be horrid,” Nell sympathised.

  “Yep. It’s like my whole life was on those beaches,” he said. “I remember screaming at this kid to fall-back, Donavon I think was his name, then boom,” he exhaled. “So you, and this place, are my new memories.” He paused, watching Nell fiddle with her hands on her lap. “Maybe when they start probing around inside my brain in Oxford, they might find me.”

  Nell didn’t want to think of what they might do to him at the rehabilitation centre. She had heard stories of lobotomies, electrocution, and medication which would make the absent mind of men more lost. Guilt filled her. She had the ability to help him, but couldn’t.

  “They say I’ll have a bed there next week,” he said, waiting for some kind of reaction from her.

  But Nell remained quiet, watching two white butterflies fluttering around a pink rose bush a few feet away.

  Jack studied her. He didn’t know what to make of her need to make the basics of conversation such hard work. He had developed a growing urge to find out though. Out of all the nursing staff, she had, for some reason, made a great impact on him. She took away the images of war.

  “So, who’s the lucky guy?” Jack asked. “He’s got to be a heck of a fella to have you in a world of your own all the time.”

  Nell clasped her hands on her lap. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. Her stomach began to burn with a queasiness. She was desperate. Desperate for the awkward chat to stop before she blurted out her true feelings.

  “I don’t really want to discuss private matters.”

  “It was just a general enquiry,” he said, frowning.

  “And it’s none of your business,” she snapped.

  Jack concluded there was just no talking to her. In his eyes, she clearly thought him rude, even though that was not how she thought of him at all.

  “Right then.”

  He pushed himself up from the bench and stood unsteady. He took hold of the handles on the wheelchair to use as a walking aid, and began to slowly move down the path. Nell couldn’t believe he still had that rebellious stubborn streak. She hurried up to fuss around him, holding out her arms.

  “Really Jack,” she blocked his way.

  “I said a week, and I’ll be dancing,” he smiled. “Let me walk… please.”

  Nell blew out in irritation with her hands on her hips. “Okay, but take your time.”

  “I will, and I shall enjoy the riveting dialogue you have to offer,” he added sarcastically.

  They strolled slowly back toward the entrance, when a fleet of RAF bombers flew across the sky. Both Nell and Jack stopped to watch as they disappeared over the horizon. It was a sight most were used to seeing above the country. But it never eased that concern for the poor men up there. Jack saluted, standing tall and proud.

  “Good luck chaps,” he said.

  Nell smiled at him involuntary, realising that the boy she fell in love with had turned out to be a fine man indeed.

  “What?” he grabbed his aid and continued to walk.

  “Nothing,” she shrugged.

  Sister Mary glared through the windowpane as she steamed down the corridor. Nell should not be letting Jack walk, not when he was supposed to be on bed-rest.

  She poked her head out of the door. “When you decide to come back to work Eleanor, I would like to see you in my office.” She let the door slam shut and marched out of sight.

  “I bet somewhere beneath that hard shell, the old battle-axe has a heart,” Jack laughed.

  Nell uttered, “Of stone.”

  As they arrived at the double doors, Jack shuffled his feet around the chair. He pulled down the handle to open it for Nell, and plucked a white rose from the wild climber, cloaking the building.

  He held it out to her. “For getting you into trouble.”

  “Jack,” she sighed.

  “It’s just a rose.”


  She took his offering while smiling softly, placing the petals under her nose to smell. “Thank you Jack.”

  The Final Beating

  Nell stood before her full length mirror wearing a red wrap over dress. She pushed the butterflies onto the back of her ruby stud earrings, feeling that churn in the pit of her gut; the same one she got that time every evening. She brushed down her hips as she swallowed down the dread. Alistair had expectations- high ones. And if she didn’t fill them, then things would often turn sour. Dinner in the Jenkins house was a far cry from enjoyable.

  She pushed her cleavage together with her arms, then tugged down the neckline a little to reveal extra flesh. She didn’t want to please Alistair sexually, but had no choice. She thought that if he found her attractive, he may refrain from hurting her when she insisted she was sick. He owned her. He would spoil her. But everything had a price, and Nell would always have to pay, today even more so. It was Friday, the one night a week in which she had to spend in Alistair’s bedroom. There were no ifs or buts about it. She would lay with him, and her mind would attempt to wander to a safe place.

  With a sigh, she bent down in her closet and positioned her black heels before her silk stocking covered toes. As she held onto the doorframe to slip her feet into her shoes, she saw the corner of the journal sticking out. Quickly, she tucked it out of sight under a pile of her aprons. Jack had crawled back into her mind again. Those loving thoughts of him circled around, making her feel sick. Not being near him was nearly as painful as him not knowing who she was. That stroll together only strengthened her heartache.

  There was a ritual she had to follow on a Friday evening. It was a way of making Alistair feel special. As well as looking her best for him, she had to cater to his ego, and be enthralled by what he had to say. Before Jack was admitted to All Angels, she managed to do this one submissive task for him. But now, she wanted to shrink away from it all.

  She stood outside the parlour, and tapped three times on the door.

  “Come in Eleanor,” his voice called, creating a cool shiver down her spine.

  She gulped, biting her lip while opening the door. Immediately, she became engulfed by cigar smoke. She coughed quietly as she made her way to Alistair’s finest whisky.

  He was sitting at the dining table dressed in his black suit. It was this one night, in which he would hang up his uniform as he had Nell to look forward to after dinner.

  Nell poured the correct amount of whisky from the crystal decanter into his glass, and made her way over. After setting his drink down before him on the table, she arched to kiss his cold cheek, cringing inside.

  “You smell wonderful Eleanor.”

  She repaid his compliment with a half-hearted smile, and sat directly across from him, repositioning her silver cutlery anxiously.

  The housekeeper entered and placed before each of them, a serving of steamed cabbage and mashed potato, with a thin cut of lamb. Then she left, closing the door behind her. Nell would often want to tell her to stay; to not leave her alone with him. But never did those brave words manage to come from her mouth.

  “How has your day been?” he asked, cutting into his lamb.

  Nell hovered her fork over the food, not really wanting to eat. “It’s been hectic.”

  “Same, same,” Alistair said, eating like he hadn’t in a month. “I have news,” he said with a smile.

  Nell looked under her brow at him while playing with her food. The only things going through her mind were Jack, and the unbearable thought of Alistair climbing on top of her.

  “You are not interested in what I have to say?”

  “Yes dear, of course.”

  “I will be away for a day or so next week. We are making significant progress with our western allies in Italy, and talks will be held.”

  “Good… good,” Nell tried to look interested.

  Alistair wiped his mouth on his napkin, then let it fall onto his plate. He stood, and when he did, Nell unintentionally flinched. He made his way over to his Gramophone, and placed the needle onto his favourite record. The one he played every Friday, slow Jazz. He then swaggered toward Nell, holding out his hand.

  “Dance,” he ordered.

  Far too frightened to refuse, she took his hand, and as soon as she rose up to her feet, he yanked her into his arms. Promptly she rested her chin over his shoulder, so he wouldn’t see the tears trying to escape. As he moved, she followed. But soon, the quiver that flowed through her body from head to toe, began to make her visibly tremble. He began to lay kisses on her neck, over and over, and her eyes started to release her all her fears.

  “You’re so soft, sweet Eleanor,” he said.

  She wept silently as her nose became runny. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t carry on any longer with the pretence of being a dutiful wife, willing to give her body to the one she had never loved. She sniffed and squirmed, pushing off his chest.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Alistair barked as she staggered back.

  “Alistair… I… I don’t feel well today,” she sobbed.

  “You never cease to amaze me Eleanor… your excuse always the same,” he growled. “You know what day it is!”

  Nell’s fingers anxiously twiddled before her waist. “I’m sorry.”

  It was already displayed. The expression of pure displeasure across his face. His breathing increased and loudened as the veins swelled in his neck. His thunderous steps moved toward her shaking body. He grabbed her forearms so hard, squeezing until her fingers tingled.

  “Please Alistair,” she begged as he pulled her to his threatening face.

  “That friend of yours has done you no favours, putting stupid notions into your head,” he snarled. “You want to be like that whore, Teresa, do you, hmm?”

  “No Alistair,” she screamed.

  “You are my wife dammit, and you will be so.”

  Something bubbled inside her. She couldn’t go on like this, and knew already she was in for hell. She thought of Jack and the tears stopped, only to be replaced with resolve.

  “I’m ill Alistair,” she said.

  “You lying bitch!”

  He grabbed her neck and pressed hard. Nell choked, clawing at his arms. He swung her around and thrust her body across the room so her bottom rib smashed into the corner of the piano. He keeled over gasping as Nell clutched her side in awful pain. He panted and rasped, and she knew any second he could blow again. She scrambled upright, holding her belly, then raced upstairs to her room.

  With her bedroom door locked, she sat on her bed, waiting for the door to be kicked off its hinges. Normally after a beating, he would leave her alone. But this wasn’t just the usual shove or strike across the face. He nearly crushed the living daylights out of her. Ten minutes she sat, and mercifully he didn’t come.

  She found it hard to breath. She worked with broken bones and fractures, and knew that her bottom rib was badly bruised. Grimacing in pain, she stood and unfastened the tie on the waist of her dress. She let it drop to the floor and stood before her mirror in just her black lace undergarments. Already there was a deep purple discolouration spreading beneath her skin. She sobbed into her hands. She didn’t want to live like this anymore. Always walking on eggshells. Always looking over her shoulder. If she stayed, she knew it would only be a matter of time before he killed her.

  Yearning Need

  Each Saturday morning, Nell only had to work a few hours at All Angels, but the way she was feeling, she knew it would feel more like a lifetime. She didn’t sleep at all during the night. Not only as she had to keep one eye open in case Alistair decided to finish what he started, but she was also in dreadful pain. No matter what position she lay, it was impossible for her to be comfortable.

  When she did finally venture downstairs, she feared he would be waiting for her with some limp apology that she would have to accept. Accepting his ways, was much easier than making him angry again. Even when he did show regret, he had this way of making her feel r
esponsible for pushing him too far. But today, Lieutenant Alistair Jenkins was out of the house before 7am, which was a huge blessing. So Nell took two aspirin with her cup of tea, then set off on her way to work.

  ***

  Nell arrived on the ward as the men were eating breakfast. The smell of the steaming porridge pot and burnt toast in the middle of the room, made her belly bubble.

  She made her way to the cloakroom, trying not to let the discomfort of her sore rib affect the way she walked. But it was difficult. The dull twinge boomed like a drum and throbbed with every little movement.

  As she entered the cool bare brick cloakroom, her eyes flashed wide with surprise. Tied to her coat hook with a piece of string, was a single white rose. Not in anger, but great confusion, she pulled the string in annoyance and placed the rose on the bench below. Things had gotten far too complicated. Her past and present whizzing her around like a speeding carousel she couldn’t get off. Her heart was being tugged in all directions. Jack’s unrelenting need to reconnect with something he wasn’t supposed to remember, was driving her crazy. Why was he doing it? He had seen her wedding ring, and he knew she was taken. Flustered, she picked up the rose and tucked it beneath her spare nurse’s cap. Out of sight; out of mind. She made sure her white cardigan covered the bruising on her arms, and made her way out onto the ward.

  Her first task of the day was to change the dressing on the big toe (well the lack thereof) on a new patient that came in during the night. All her care and concentration was firmly set on Corporal Norris. Who wasn’t shot in the foot by the enemy, or lost his toe in the heat of battle. This was an unfortunate incident, and the manner in which he explained what happened, made Nell laugh freely. It was a bet that went disastrously wrong. A bet he paid dearly for. He set a challenge to a cocky Private, that he wouldn’t even be able to start up his beloved tank, Bella. But he did, and he took poor Corporal Norris’s toe with him. He had cheered Nell up to no end. Even the pain she felt from her rib when she let out a great roaring laugh didn’t bother her.