‘How did you find this stream?’ she asked, wishing she had the nerve to tell him that she liked him straight back.
‘Do you remember when I had to leave last week?’ he asked. ‘I went to the other hospital.’
‘Of course.’
‘Well, I had a few hours off, after a shift that ended up being almost two days with not a moment of sleep,’ Spencer said, taking a sip of his coffee. The taste made him smile and she sipped her own. ‘I came here, to this very café, and met a woman. She was crying and I asked what was wrong. It turns out her son had broken his arm and her daughter was sick, and she had no one to help her.’
‘So you, dashing doctor that you are, helped her, didn’t you?’
He nodded. ‘I bought her a coffee, since I had a pocket full of francs, then went back to her house. She has a lovely little home, full of warmth, but her son’s arm hadn’t been set and I was able to check both her children over. Today, I called in to check on them all and I happened to mention you.’
Ellie’s heart leapt. ‘What about me?’ What could he possibly have told this woman about her?
‘That I finally had a date of sorts with you. She offered to make us a simple meal to say thank you, and told me that there is a lovely stream at the bottom of her property, with a hut of sorts that her husband made for the children long before the war. She said she will leave the food for us there, should we wish for some time away from everything.’
Ellie was speechless. She didn’t know what to say, how to react; but she did want to say yes.
‘Are we, er, are we going there soon?’ she asked when Spencer didn’t say anything else.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Unless you want to go back instead?’
‘Spencer,’ she whispered, ‘there is nothing I want to do more than forget this war and spend every stolen moment with you.’
He leaned forward, hesitated, then pressed his lips softly to hers, his kiss barely touching her mouth it was so gentle.
‘Well, good then,’ he muttered.
She was kissing her man in front of anyone who cared to watch, and she didn’t give a damn.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ellie
‘Is this too much?’ Spencer asked, his voice soft.
Ellie stared in amazement around her. It was definitely too much, but it was also perfect. The stream was pretty as a picture, the water trickling gently and long grass tickling its way right down to the bank. She looked up at Spencer, their hands linked, the smile on her face impossible to stifle.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said.
‘I wasn’t sure if you’d want to be here alone with me,’ he said, dropping her hand and stroking her back instead. ‘But compared to being stuck in the hospital, it seemed the better option.’
She exhaled and leaned into him, more comfortable with Spencer than she could explain. There was something so lovely about him. He was charming, but strong; capable, but also so easy-going and not at all pushy. Not to mention he was an amazing doctor, which made her admire him all the more. He genuinely cared, she could see that, and it showed her the type of person he was.
‘Hungry?’ he asked.
She sighed. ‘Starving. But I’d give you the same answer any hour of any day. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the lack of food.’
He grunted. ‘I see you feeding the patients sometimes and think how hard it must be. Giving them food when you know how many hours it’ll be until you have a meal.’
They stood a moment longer before turning together. There were oak trees dotted around them, long grass scattered amongst areas of dirt and stone. But it was the little house that caught her eye; it was almost like a miniature log cabin it was so perfect.
‘Can you believe this?’
Spencer chuckled, looking straight ahead. ‘It’s like a beautiful house that’s been shrunk.’
‘Did you say her husband built it for their children?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Yes. Lucky kids.’
‘I hope for their sakes that he makes it home,’ Ellie whispered, wishing she wasn’t thinking about war again. But it was impossible not to. ‘To think of all those families . . .’
Her voice trailed off and Spencer squeezed her hand. ‘Come on. Let’s see what she left for us to eat.’
She followed his lead and she waited as he pushed open the door to the wooden playhouse. They both had to duck their heads to get inside, but it was cute, with a little table and two children’s chairs to one side, and a picnic basket in the middle waiting for them.
‘It might be a low ceiling, but if it rains we could at least huddle together and have a tea party.’ Ellie giggled. ‘Makes me feel like a little girl again being in here.’
When he turned to her, eyes meeting hers and staying locked, she suddenly felt anything but a little girl. She gulped, holding his gaze, her body flooded with warmth as he stared at her. It was only a moment, but it felt like hours that she stood basking in his gaze.
Spencer took a step towards her, head ducked low, his frame far too tall for the small space. His eyes dropped to her mouth and her lips parted, her breathing shallow as he placed one hand to her cheek. He dipped down, pressed a soft kiss to her lips that made her forget everything except his mouth on hers.
Ellie kissed him back, not wanting it to end, wanting the kiss to last for ever. Slowly he backed her up, lips still locked as they moved outside. The cool breeze brushed against her skin, in contrast to the warmth of the sun as it kissed them from above. Spencer’s arms went around her, his mouth firmer against hers now, their bodies close.
‘Ellie, are you sure . . . ?’ he muttered against her mouth.
She clutched his shirt, pulled him closer as her back hit the little house. Spencer’s body blocked her from the world, protected her as he kissed her deeply. His hands skimmed her hips, touched down her body, and she’d never felt more alive.
Everything about Spencer felt so right. There was no part of her that wanted him to stop.
Her fingers found the buttons on the front of his shirt and she worked them impatiently. She wanted to touch his skin, needed to touch his skin. Spencer’s hands were still on her, and when he groaned it only urged her on more. She hadn’t been with a man like this before, never felt so strongly about a man, but Spencer was driving her out of her mind.
‘Ellie, please . . .’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t stop.’
‘Ellie, no,’ he said, pushing back, hair dishevelled as he looked into her eyes, his body braced against hers, one hand pressed to the house behind her.
She was breathing heavily, staring up at him.
‘I love you, Ellie,’ he murmured, his voice raspy and barely louder than a whisper. He stroked a strand of hair from her face. ‘I love you.’
She looked up at him, still breathing hard, studying every inch of his face. He’d had no need to say those words to her, it wasn’t as if she’d needed encouragement, and yet he’d stopped her to say it.
‘I love you, too,’ she whispered back, tears in her eyes that took her by surprise.
Spencer gently stroked her face, his eyes never leaving hers, body pressing tighter, warming her. This time when he kissed her, it was gentle. The urgency had gone, his touch lighter. Ellie slipped her arms around his neck, stroked his hair with one set of fingers before running her hands down his back.
‘Why rush?’ he asked, murmuring against her skin as he took his lips from her mouth and dipped them into the hollow of her neck instead.
Ellie smiled to herself, pressing into him, loving the way his hands felt on her. Spencer was right, why rush? But what if this was the only time together, alone, that they ever had?
‘Are you still hungry?’ he asked, his voice a husky whisper.
She kissed his lips when he pulled back, watching her face. ‘The food can wait,’ she said against his mouth, kissing him again and starting to undo the remaining buttons on his shirt, having only succeeded in loosening two of them earl
ier.
Spencer scooped her up in his arms, making her giggle as her feet left the ground, and he carried her over to the grass. His breath was hot against her cheek as he lowered her down, taking off his shirt and placing it behind her before dropping to his knees and gently pushing her back.
Ellie laughed when he lowered down on top of her. And when he paused and gave her a quizzical look, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer. Laughter was not something that came so easily to her now, but today she’d smiled and laughed so much that her cheeks ached.
‘This is your first time?’ Spencer asked gently as his hand ran up her leg, sending shivers through her body as it arched up in response to his touch.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘Tell me if you want me to stop,’ he said, kissing her, making her forget everything.
She wouldn’t. Ellie loved Spencer, with all her heart. He made her smile when everything else around her made her shudder. She only hoped that when the war was over he still wanted her.
Spencer smiled at her in such a knowing way that she blushed. Ellie was fully dressed again, the air curling its chilled embrace all the way into the little cabin they were sitting in now that the sun had gone down. A shiver ran through her, but she ignored it, content to snuggle closer to Spencer and enjoy the last of the food.
‘I wish we didn’t have to go back,’ she admitted.
Spencer placed his arm around her and dropped a kiss into her hair. ‘Me too.’
They’d eaten hard-boiled eggs and bread covered in butter, and a small bowl of preserved fruit as well. It was the biggest meal she’d had in what was starting to feel like for ever, and the taste of real eggs had been heavenly.
‘Spencer, I should have asked before now, but . . .’
He looked down at her, waiting expectantly.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘You don’t have someone at home waiting for you, do you?’ Ellie felt silly asking him, knowing that what they had might well just be a wartime fling for him. But it meant more to her, so much more.
‘Ellie, my love, I wouldn’t be here with you now if I did,’ he told her, stroking her hair. It was loose over her shoulders – she hadn’t bothered to pin it back up yet – and his fingers caressing each strand was nice. She leaned into him, hoping he’d keep doing it. ‘I certainly wouldn’t have written home to my mother about you if I was supposed to be with another woman.’
‘It’s not so unusual for men to—’
He stopped stroking, interrupting her sentence and using his other hand to touch her chin and tip her head up.
‘I wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble if that’s all I wanted from you. Surely you know that?’
She nodded. He was right, she did know, but asking made her feel more certain about his intentions.
‘What about when we go home?’
He kissed her head again and went back to stroking her hair when she dropped her cheek to his shoulder.
‘When we’re back in London I’ll be taking you for dinner with my mother. She’ll love you just like I do.’
‘You sound so sure.’
‘If I love you, she’ll love you. Simple as that.’
Ellie doubted she’d ever tire of him saying those words. She loved him right back, only she wasn’t quite so certain that his mother would automatically adore the nurse he’d fallen for while away on active service. Only time would tell, but right now she’d have to take his word for it, and hope that he didn’t fall out of love with her once the war was over and everything went back to normal back home.
‘Spencer, why did you become a doctor?’
‘Because it was a good career choice, and because I like helping people. Simple as that.’
‘You’re a good man, you know that?’ She held him close. He was like her father, warm and caring, open and strong, and she liked that. She didn’t know what she’d done to make him like her so much, but she wasn’t going to waste time worrying about it any longer.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Scarlet
‘James!’
Scarlet ran so fast she skidded and almost landed on top of the stretcher being carried in.
‘James, what . . . ?’ she gasped when she saw his gaping wound, the blood oozing from not only his side but his leg as well.
She ran alongside him, assisted as he was transferred into a bed. Her head was thumping from working all night after the long day out with her friends, not to mention the nightmare she’d woken from the previous night, dripping in sweat and screaming his name.
‘What happened to you?’ she asked as she applied pressure to his side, a doctor coming over to check his leg.
Scarlet prayed that it wasn’t too bad, didn’t want to look for fear that it would be an amputation. She’d started to wonder if too many limbs were being cut off, if the doctors thought they had no other option, when if they’d been back home, if they’d been able to evacuate them fast enough, they might have been able to save arms and legs aplenty.
‘I got shot again,’ he gasped as she pushed harder at his side, concerned at how quickly the fabric was soaked a dark, violent red.
‘You went back to the front?’ she fumed.
The grimace he made told her she was right, and she was tempted to slap him hard across the face. Except she knew how much pain he was already in, and how stupid men could be when it meant getting back to their units and helping their men.
‘I believed you were going home, that you were going to be safe.’
‘Should have . . .’ he gasped, ‘followed orders. This bloody wound reopened as soon as I started running and shooting.’
She tried impossibly hard to suppress her anger with him. ‘You’ll be evacuated within the day now,’ she told him. ‘Don’t go having any more hare-brained ideas about getting back out there. Your fighting days are over, for now at least.’
‘Wanted to . . .’ he started, taking a deep breath, ‘find out more. Thomas.’
Scarlet nodded. ‘I see.’
He might have feelings for her, but Thomas was his brother. Of course he was desperate to find him, see if there were any way he could get him home. What they’d had between them was banished to memories, and she needed to remember that. Part of her was devastated that he hadn’t said anything about returning for her, but she knew that was silly. They’d sworn never to speak of what had happened again. It was as simple as that.
‘I have a plan, James. Trust me.’
She wasn’t lying. She’d had a plan for days now, had even gone as far as discussing it with Spencer, and she was certain it would work. If Thomas were where she thought he could be, then she’d find him. And if not him? Then at least she’d find someone else’s Thomas and help to bring him home. She trembled with fear at the very thought of finding Thomas now, scared of how her feelings had changed, but she couldn’t back down now, not now that she’d come so far.
‘Doctor!’ she cried, her breath catching in her throat as she watched James’s eyes flutter, as if he were slowly slipping away from her. ‘Help, please!’
Not James. Not her James.
‘Prepare this man for surgery. Nurse! Attend to him!’ the doctor barked at her as she stood, dead still, staring at James on the bed before her. His uniform was filthy, her hand was covered in his blood, the colour seeping across her skin and making it look like her own hands were bleeding.
‘Nurse!’
The second bark made Scarlet snap out of it. Thomas might be a long shot. But James? James was here. James she could do everything within her power to save.
Scarlet had been working all day. Her hands were sore and red, and she wasn’t sure if that was from overwork or because they were stained with the blood of the men she’d been tending to. She stared down; her hands started to shake, body slowly beginning to tremble as she looked around.
They’d had hundreds of men. Hundreds. The ambulances hadn’t stopped arriving, the blood hadn’t stopped spurting, and she st
ill hadn’t eaten anything. And even though she knew that every soldier was someone’s loved one, that her focus should have been purely on the injured man lying in front of her, all she’d thought about was James. Not Thomas. Not the man she was promised to. James.
‘Where is he?’ she murmured to herself, not sure whether anyone else could hear them. The room spun around her, everything a blur, her stomach churning as she inhaled, trying to breathe when all she could manage were rapid gasps.
Where was he?
‘Nurse, out of the way!’
The shout from behind made her lurch forward, tripping. She was so hungry, so tired, so . . . She needed to find James.
‘Lucy!’ she called, seeing her friend standing over a patient. She recognised her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun.
Scarlet rushed over to her, the blood starting to pump through her body again as she moved. He couldn’t be gone. She needed one more moment with him, one last stolen moment before he left and she had to pretend all over again not to have feelings for him.
‘You’re looking for him?’ Lucy called. ‘For James?’
Scarlet nodded, catching her breath. If she’d had the chance she would have stayed with him, cared for him and been there when he came out of surgery. Instead she’d been rushing around trying to do everything she could, and she didn’t even know if he was still here.
‘I saw him being taken out of surgery. I made sure to ask after him the moment I had the chance and I went to see him with my own eyes. They haven’t evacuated anyone since then.’
Scarlet nodded, relief washing through her, and touched Lucy’s arm, looking down at the man she was standing with. ‘You doing all right?’ she asked, talking to Lucy as her friend hovered over the American soldier.
Lucy let out a long, shuddering, deep sigh. ‘Given the circumstances? I guess you could say that. Although I’m sick of doctors acting like we’re no more important than orderlies when we have to work like dogs and assist them at every turn.’
Scarlet kept her hand on Lucy’s arm for a heartbeat longer, but she saw the way the soldier was looking at her friend, and she wanted to leave them alone. ‘It can’t keep going on like this. We have to keep telling ourselves that.’ She didn’t go on, didn’t tell her that sometimes she worried that it wouldn’t stop, that they were stuck in France for the rest of their lives until they, too, were blown up by a bomb or shot down by the enemy.
Wives of War Page 18
