She’d kissed her fiancé’s brother. She was being punished. Not to mention the fact that she would have to live with that infidelity for the rest of her life.
Thomas. She was here because of him. She was looking for him. She wanted him by her side. James was handsome and charming and distracting, that was all. She’d been waiting for Thomas so long that James had managed to distract her from what she really wanted.
Her hand reached for her necklace, to find the comfort of the engagement ring there, but her skin was bare. She’d left it at home for safekeeping on her last visit back.
She swallowed, hard.
She should never have taken it off.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lucy
Lucy shut her eyes, knowing what was about to happen, but powerless to do anything to stop it. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Bang.
Everything else went silent for a moment, just one blank second, until she opened her eyes and heard the yells, the screams, the mayhem. She’d seen it happen, had watched as the doctor’s hand had started to shake as he cut through the skin with the scalpel, watched in horror as he hit an artery. The blood had started to spurt, the soldier on the bed in front of them sure to bleed out if they didn’t do something fast, his other leg already looking like it would need to be amputated.
The doctor had reached for his gun, held it up, the whites of his eyes flashing, before pulling the trigger and blowing half his head off.
Lucy raised her hand, wiped her cheek and found that it was sticky, saw the red stain of blood on her palm as she stared at it. Her body shook, even though she was trying her hardest to stop it. She breathed deep, eyes shut again, remembering home. The garden, walking in the breeze, sitting drinking tea with her mother on the metal chairs overlooking the roses. That was her safe place, the image she needed to draw on when the going got tough. She could do this, she would do this, because giving up wasn’t an option here, and she certainly wasn’t going to end up like that doctor.
‘Nurse!’
She heard the call, a doctor elsewhere no doubt. They all seemed to call for nurses constantly, but she didn’t move. She clamped her hand down, trying to stop the soldier’s blood flow, but it was useless. Then the pumping blood stopped.
‘He’s gone,’ a deep voice said. She turned and saw a doctor shaking his head as he leaned past her to check the patient. ‘He’s gone. Go and help the incoming.’
Lucy wiped her hands on her apron and propelled herself forwards, pushing the horror scene she’d just left from her mind as orderlies rushed past her, presumably to clean up the bodies and the blood. There was no time to care, to feel sick, to do anything other than keep going. They were a doctor down now, and as she stepped over his body, past the pool of red blood on the floor that two orderlies were scrambling to deal with, she forced down the bile burning its way up her throat and ran. She was made of tougher stuff. She’d heard her father tell her brother to keep his chin up when they’d been kids, as if he was the tougher one, the one who needed to be strong, but it was advice she was going to take now.
Outside, the air was thick and smoky, like she was in a thick, dense pea-soup fog tinged with the smell of gunpowder. Or maybe it was her imagination. After almost forty-eight hours on her feet with no sleep, she was feeling delirious, as if she were watching herself from above rather than being in control of anything.
The ambulances hadn’t stopped. They kept arriving, over and over again. It was a constant circus of tending to the injured, doing what they could for some, preparing others for evacuation.
She swallowed hard, the bile rising again. And then there were the ones they patched up as best they could for evacuation, only to have them back within the hour, injured again or sometimes dead because they’d been shot again before they made it to the boats.
Lucy had no idea how they were going to survive, how she was going to pull through. But the determination she felt inside, the hatred for this war and the sadness she felt for all the men suffering, made her refuse to give in. She would hold her head high and do everything she could, for every soldier she could. This was what she was made to do, this was what she’d wanted for so long, to save lives and make a difference.
‘Incoming!’
She took shelter, watched as another ambulance was shot at as it tried to make its way to the safety of their hospital. They needed protection, some sort of cover to keep their nurses safe and the ambulance drivers out of harm’s way as they drove in. But she knew any sense of safety she felt under cover was silly anyway; being under canvas was no different from being out in the open.
But most of all they needed rest. They couldn’t keep going like this – without sleep, without food. If more doctors started to make mistakes, had hands so shaky they couldn’t hold a scalpel, then they wouldn’t be any use to anyone.
She heard a louder bang, an explosion this time, and ran out from where she’d been standing, looking to the sky, searching frantically for what the noise was. Her eyes locked on the object immediately, saw a plane explode like a fiery ball of sun in the sky and come crashing down in the distance, by the shore.
Lucy said a silent prayer. Although from what she’d seen today, she was starting to doubt that there was anyone listening. For what God would let men kill men like this? Would let men butcher one another and have such little regard for human life?
Lucy ran to the next ambulance, helping as best she could. She was here to save the lives of their soldiers, and that’s exactly what she was going to do until her very last breath. She wasn’t going to rest until she’d done everything within her power to send these men home.
PART TWO
Normandy
CHAPTER NINE
Scarlet
The boat swayed beneath her feet, putting her off balance as it moved slowly, steadily out into the harbour. She found she was holding her breath and had to force the air in and out, clutching the handrail as she watched the men calling out to them from the docks. They were wolf-whistling, waving and singing as the ship departed, and most of the nurses around her were laughing and waving back. But Scarlet felt cold – a chill in her bones that was making her uncomfortable, not making her want to wave back and join in the fun. It wasn’t just the guilt she was feeling over James, over finding out who he was, but a deep-seated worry about what they were going to encounter once they arrived in Normandy.
‘Can you believe we’re actually going to France?’ Ellie asked breathlessly as she finally stopped waving to the men they’d left behind. ‘Spencer was so certain I should find a way to stay behind, but there’s no way I’d miss this adventure. Honestly, I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.’
Scarlet usually loved how positive and fun Ellie was, but today she was grating on her nerves. Was she that naive? Did she really think of this as an adventure? Maybe Ellie was simply trying to keep things feeling happy, to look forward to where they were going and their time on the ship, but Scarlet couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. It was a potent mixture of fear, worries about James, and guilt over Thomas.
‘Whilst aboard the HMS Invicta, you shall not undress at any time or wash yourselves. Any nurses disobeying this direct order will be punished accordingly.’ Ellie giggled at her own imitation of Matron. ‘Segregation will be strictly enforced.’
Scarlet had to smile this time, the look on Ellie’s face as she mimicked the older woman making her impossible to ignore.
‘I still can’t believe we’re travelling to France,’ Ellie said in her normal voice now as she leaned into Scarlet and dropped her head to her shoulder, hands on the railing beside hers.
‘Are you scared?’ Scarlet asked her.
‘Of course!’
‘But you seem so . . .’ Scarlet struggled to find the right word to say.
‘Happy?’
Scarlet sighed. ‘Yes. Like you don’t have a care in the world.’
‘Come on,’ Ellie said, tugging on her arm. ‘Let�
��s take a look around. We might as well enjoy the next few days if we can, because life ain’t ever going to be the same for us.’
‘So you’re faking it?’
‘Let’s just have fun, and worry about whatever we’re heading into once we get there. It’s better than being all doom and gloom before we even arrive.’ She laughed. ‘If not, we can always talk about you kissing your brother-in-law!’
Scarlet glared at her. ‘Don’t. Don’t even . . .’
Ellie laughed, making a zipping gesture across her lips. ‘I know, I know, you don’t want to talk about it. My lips are sealed.’
Scarlet guessed that was Ellie’s strange way of admitting that she was every bit as scared herself. She thought back to that first day waiting for the train, meeting Ellie and being thankful for finding a friend to pass the time with. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet it had only been weeks.
‘Have you seen Spencer again?’ she asked as they crossed the deck, shoes heavy on the timber beneath them.
‘Not since this morning,’ Ellie replied with a sigh. ‘I wish I could have met him somewhere different. I mean, well, it’s hard to know what to think. Or what to expect. But he’s so, I don’t know, different from any other man I’ve spent time with before.’
Scarlet was about to reply when they headed below deck, her voice lost in the sea of noise. She braced herself, gritting her teeth as she surveyed their mess quarters. It was awful. The most awful place she’d ever been. It looked dismal, it smelt damp, and it was filthy.
‘Did you hear that they weren’t expecting women on board?’ someone said loudly as they walked past. ‘The way they look at us is hilarious. Like they’ve never even seen women before.’
Scarlet turned and smiled at the nurse who’d spoken. ‘Yeah, so much for three days of luxury at sea.’
Her dry humour made a few of the women laugh and for some reason it helped to ease the tension in Scarlet’s shoulders.
‘Dinner will be served at 1700 hours,’ a man called out from above.
‘Oooh, is it a roast?’
‘Lashings of gravy for me!’
Scarlet grinned as others called out around her.
‘Porridge,’ came a cold grunt of a reply. ‘And it won’t be hot or warm.’
Scarlet’s smile died, her lips stretching into a straight line as the room fell silent around her.
‘Cold porridge. For dinner?’ Holly burst into tears beside her, and the chatter that had been so lively before resumed only as a low hum.
‘So much for staying positive, huh?’ Ellie muttered, taking Scarlet’s hand again and marching her forwards.
Scarlet had no idea where in France they were being taken, and frankly, she no longer cared. She just wanted to keep busy and not overthink anything and everything. Her emotions were swinging faster than a pendulum, and for some reason it was thoughts of James that gave her comfort, not Thomas, and she hated herself for it.
There was a loud noise above and Scarlet froze, scared, wondering if it was gunfire. And then the boat started to sway and she heard the louder lap of the waves and rain pounding on the deck. It must have been thunder.
‘Great,’ she murmured. Rain had been threatening as they’d boarded.
‘I don’t feel so good,’ Ellie whispered.
Scarlet held her hand tighter. ‘You’ll be fine. You can take a seasickness tablet if you need to, and we’ll keep talking. Maybe we could flout the rules and even try to find Spencer for you. Pretend we have an urgent medical question to ask him.’
Ellie squeezed her hand back, but Scarlet knew from the worried look on her face that she was already feeling beyond rotten.
‘I’m sure Spencer would love me to vomit all over him,’ Ellie said sarcastically.
‘Hey, the man clearly adores you. What’s a little sick between sweethearts?’
Ellie groaned and they walked on unsteady feet to their quarters. There were fifty nurses on board, and Scarlet doubted any of them would have cast-iron stomachs as the boat began to lurch more, and she knew that the further out to sea they went, the worse it would get.
It hadn’t crossed her mind before, but as the storm became more intense, the wind howling already, so different from the overcast, merely cloudy weather they’d encountered as they’d stood above deck, she started to wonder about whether they’d even survive the voyage. It was a morbid thought, but the strong winds, the lashing of the rain and the big waves, coupled with a possible enemy attack, suddenly had her stomach churning and her hand reaching for the dreaded thick paper bag.
‘Come on, why don’t we make ourselves useful? Try to do something entertaining to keep everyone’s minds off what’s going on?’ Scarlet suggested as she gripped the bag.
‘You actually think they’ll let us do something?’ Ellie asked. She did look a little happier, cracking a smile as she looked back.
‘So long as it’s women only? I’ll bet they couldn’t give a hoot what we do.’
It wasn’t often Ellie who needed cheering up, but Scarlet didn’t like to see her so down. Besides, she liked the idea of doing anything that distracted her from the rolling motion of the boat.
‘What were you thinking?’ Ellie asked.
‘That’s the problem, I wasn’t!’ she said with a laugh. ‘Any ideas?’
‘None. But between the two of us I’m sure we’ll come up with something.’
‘Don’t forget, Matron said we could visit her cabin if we need to for rum. A good dose of that is her cure for seasickness,’ Scarlet said. ‘I think at best it’d be so horrendous it would knock you out cold, but what was it she said?’
‘That she didn’t have the time or patience for illness amongst her nurses,’ Ellie muttered.
Scarlet sighed. She’d like to see how Matron managed to keep her food down because she doubted even the strongest of stomachs wouldn’t be queasy right now.
Scarlet clung to the rails and stared into the ocean. She didn’t know if this was a sensible thing to do or a stupid one, but she couldn’t seem to focus on anything else. The boat had been heaving for what felt like days, although she knew the wild weather had only been bad for a matter of hours – the wind howling and the rain sporadic. If there had been a worse time they could have sailed, she struggled to imagine when it would have been.
‘Scarlet!’
Her name whipped on the wind, and she wondered if she was imagining it. She shut her eyes, tried to move with the boat. But even with her eyes closed she could still see the dark water, the white foam stark against the almost black waves. She didn’t know why it was so dark, the violence of the storm perhaps, but she’d never seen water like it and hoped she never would again.
‘Scarlet!’
This time she did turn. The voice was closer, definitely not in her imagination.
‘James?’ She hadn’t expected to see him, not on board when there were such strict rules. Although she gathered that he was probably allowed to do things the lowlier soldiers weren’t, given that he was a commanding officer.
‘Ellie said I might find you out here.’
She noticed how healthy he looked, how strong. So many of the nurses had fallen dreadfully ill, not used to the conditions or the terrible food, but James certainly didn’t seem to be suffering, at least not visibly.
‘How are you coping?’
She shook her head, knowing they should be keeping their distance. ‘Not well. Better when I’m out here, for some reason.’
Scarlet expected him to tell her off for being out, for leaning over the railing when she might fall. But he didn’t.
‘I wanted to make sure you were doing all right. I’ve been worried about you.’
Scarlet’s heart was beating fast, her sick stomach forgotten as she stared into James’s eyes. How did he make her feel like this every time he looked at her, spoke to her? Did he think of her as much as she did him?
Her mind was screaming out for Thomas, trying desperately to think only of him, but suddenl
y everything about him was a blur, a whir of snapshots that were no longer filled with the emotion or longing she’d grown used to. It was James she couldn’t stop thinking about.
‘I’m fine,’ she stammered, eventually.
‘You’re too optimistic not to be faring well,’ he said with a chuckle.
Scarlet looked across and fought the urge to reach out to him. It didn’t matter what they were talking about, he always made her feel the same, and now, staring at his mouth, she couldn’t help but think about the kiss they’d shared.
‘I’m starting to feel a whole lot less optimistic now,’ Scarlet admitted, raising her voice to be heard above the wind, moving closer to him as the ship heaved again.
‘And if you don’t find him?’ James asked, taking a hand off the rail as he turned to face her.
Scarlet returned his gaze, staying strong even though he was making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. Of course they were talking about Thomas again.
‘I haven’t thought that far ahead,’ she said honestly.
James reached out to her, extended his hand and patiently waited for her to place her palm against his. Her hand was shaking, fingers locking around his, not needing any encouragement. James had been all she’d thought about as she lay in her makeshift bed the night before, as she listened to her fellow nurses and friends vomit into their bags and dry-retch, as she whispered with Ellie while they huddled close for warmth and tried to take their minds off what was happening.
And now here he was, standing before her, his expression so hard to read, his hand so warm when she was shivering cold. A wave rocked the boat and sent her spiralling towards him, tumbling into his arms as he managed to catch her.
‘No,’ she muttered, pushing back, not wanting to be this close to him.
Wives of War Page 10
