Wives of War

by Soraya M. Lane

  Her feet were like lead, her movements slow as she followed behind the others, finally walking through a door held open by an elderly woman in a habit. Her smile was kind, her hand reaching for her. Scarlet took it immediately, holding on tight, needing to draw strength from someone.

  ‘We didn’t think we would have soldiers here looking for these men until the war ended,’ the nun said, her expression kind as she led them through the entrance. The flickering of candles catching Scarlet’s eye. It was as cold in the hall as it was outside, her breath billowing like frost before her, but the room they walked into had a fireplace going, with at least five candles burning for light. ‘We’ll miss the company once they’ve gone.’

  She could imagine Ellie laughing and teasing that nuns shouldn’t be enjoying the company of strange men so much, but her gaze was locked on the two chairs in the room. Needing to see. Wanting to see if one of them was Thomas.

  Spencer was striding ahead, his black bag in hand, full of whatever he might need to help these soldiers.

  ‘How long have they been here?’ Scarlet asked, her footsteps slow, knowing she wasn’t supposed to freeze.

  ‘Months, my dear. Months and months,’ the kindly nun said. ‘There were five of them here, but the first three passed away even after everything we tried to do for them. They were so badly injured, but . . .’

  ‘Where are they?’ a deep voice asked, one of the soldiers’.

  ‘Buried,’ the nun said, her voice matter-of-fact. ‘We prayed for them and buried them, as we would have anyone’s loved ones. They were given all the love and care we could, and then when it was time to let them go, we were there to hold them.’

  Scarlet was still listening, the soothing voice of the older woman like a lullaby that kept her moving. Spencer’s eyes met hers; she knew she was supposed to be at his side, doing her job, but she was holding her breath, unable to focus.

  The first soldier had light, sandy-coloured hair, and the side of his face was covered in old burns, healed, but still bad enough to make her gasp. His arm was in a sling, but he didn’t look too bad, the worst of his injuries obviously healed, or at least from what she could see. But he was asleep, his mouth slightly parted, his body slumped.

  ‘This man is doing well?’ Spencer asked.

  ‘Very,’ the nurse said. ‘It’s the other man we’ve had more trouble with.’

  Scarlet turned, slowly, her feet swivelling on the spot as she turned to the other chair positioned slightly further from the fire. She hadn’t been able to see him in the shadows and she moved closer. The thick dark hair caught her eye instantly, the dark brown, almost black eyes that met hers – haunted, troubled, almost dead.

  The room spun, her face was on fire, she opened her mouth but nothing came out . . .

  Scarlet looked back at Spencer, which only made the spinning worse, the dizziness making her stumble as she tried to turn again to the soldier, trying so hard not to fall, not to faint right there on the mat in front of the burning embers of the fire.

  ‘Scarlet?’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lucy

  It had only been two days since Ellie had left and Scarlet had headed off in search of the missing soldiers with Spencer, but for Lucy it had felt like a lifetime. The days had been long, sending off all the remaining patients, and she’d had mixed feelings about saying goodbye to their field hospital. But she’d moved hospitals before and she knew that before long they’d be settled into their new location and busy again with more casualties. If her heart wouldn’t stop thumping away like mad as she fretted about her friends, she’d be fine. So much for not getting attached to anyone! Jack had broken her heart and her friends were gone, and she hated it.

  The orderlies had already left with the equipment, so by the time she reached their new location the hospital would be set up again within hours. It was amazing how quickly they could leave one site and be operational in another.

  ‘Did you hear that we’ll be back wearing our scarlet uniform again?’ Holly asked as she passed, bag in hand.

  Lucy lifted her own and followed the other nurse out. ‘I know. It’ll be nice to be in a more fixed hospital,’ she said. ‘Can’t say I’ll miss working under canvas.’

  ‘Any word on Scarlet and Doctor Black?’ Holly asked.

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Nothing as yet. I’m hoping they’ll be meeting us in Brussels, though, at our new hospital, all being well.’

  They had a long trip ahead of them, and as she walked to the big covered army lorry with Holly, she wished she had Scarlet with her to chat to on the journey. The other nurses were all nice enough, but it was Scarlet whom she felt closest to. They were heading further from the front, which was in itself reassuring, and there had been murmurs of better living conditions, which she’d believe when she saw them with her own eyes.

  ‘Come on, ladies, let’s get a move on,’ a soldier called out.

  Lucy climbed up when it was her turn, gratefully taking the arm of an officer who was standing to help the nurses up into the truck. She settled in, knowing her bottom would be numb within the hour, and they’d be travelling for the better part of the day, hopefully arriving before nightfall, but perhaps not.

  ‘Do you think we’ll be home before Christmas?’ Holly asked, her question taking Lucy by surprise.

  ‘Honestly? I don’t know,’ Lucy said, as another nurse sat down beside her. ‘Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever be going home. When’s it all going to end?’

  ‘Oh, don’t talk like that. I need to believe I’ll be home in time for my mother’s Christmas cooking,’ Holly scolded.

  As the truck rumbled to life, juddering and jolting as they started off on their journey, Lucy shut her eyes and remembered what home was like. Her father’s kind embrace, awkward but welcoming; her mother standing at the door, listening to her fail terribly at playing the piano, which always exasperated her mother and made Lucy giggle; the room she’d shared with her sister growing up, even though they could have had their own spaces had they wished. Her books, crammed into every inch of her bedroom shelves, her saviours when she felt like no one understood her.

  Home was a memory she had to grasp hold of tight. Because if she didn’t, she was afraid it might disappear from her mind for ever, and she needed to remember what she’d left behind.

  ‘Did you hear there’s no rationing in Brussels?’ another nurse said excitedly. ‘I’ve heard there’s fresh vegetables, fruit and even champagne to drink there.’

  ‘Champagne would be heavenly,’ Holly chimed in. ‘Can you honestly imagine how good it will taste after all that hideous Compo tea we’ve been drinking?’

  ‘We’re staying in an old coat-hanger factory,’ another nurse said. ‘I know it’s true because I heard Matron talking and confirming all the details. We’re actually going to be inside, two to a room. Imagine it!’

  Lucy wasn’t going to get her hopes up in case Brussels was even worse than everywhere else she had been. They might be safer there, but she wasn’t going to start setting her heart on anything other than being thankful they were all still alive.

  A nurse with a lovely voice started to sing then, a song that Lucy didn’t recognise. Her voice carried through the lorry, and a few others joined in. Lucy was content listening as more women started to sing along, too. Then they started another song, one she knew straight away, and she opened her mouth to sing, but found the words wouldn’t come out. Tears prickled her eyes, but she fought them, not about to let a little song make her get all silly and emotional.

  Her mother had sung it, softly under her breath as she’d worked in the kitchen, and when Lucy closed her eyes she was back there, watching her mother and listening closely to hear her sing. They’d had help at home, but her mother took pride in everything that went on their table, and she’d always been in that kitchen cooking. Perhaps it was her mother’s way of expressing herself; she’d been so guarded of her emotions, so strong and proper, but cooking was what she’d loved,
and it was also the only time Lucy ever heard her mother sing. She forced herself to join in the second verse of April Showers, not content with listening without singing, too.

  There was so much she missed, memories she refused to let close to the surface. Lucy wasn’t sure what she was afraid of; maybe it was simply the fact that thinking of the past might make it too hard to put one foot in front of the other each day and keep going. When she’d left home, she’d thought her parents didn’t care, that they hadn’t shown her the love she’d craved and the support for her dreams that she’d needed. But in hindsight, maybe it had taken leaving to make her see what she’d missed.

  But it didn’t mean she didn’t pray every single night for this war to be over. She wanted to go home, too. She wanted to laugh with friends and eat decent food. She wanted to make more memories with her family, to kiss her father’s warm cheek and throw her arms around her mother. She wanted to talk to her sister and laugh about what it would be like one day to have their own children. She wanted to see her friends.

  Lucy brushed tears from her cheeks as they dripped silently, wetting her skin and falling down to her mouth. Most of all, she wanted to believe that she’d see Jack again one day, too, even though she knew it was a silly dream to have. There was no way her American soldier would ever come looking for her. He was gone, a beautiful memory from her time nursing, and nothing more. He had his own life to remember and get back to. One day she’d forget about him, but with all the other awful things happening around her, for now she was going to hold him close and let herself dream of what could have been.

  ‘Help!’

  Lucy jolted awake, her head lifting from Holly’s shoulder as she tried to figure out what was going on. There was some sort of commotion going on around them, but none of the nurses around her were bothering to get out and find out what was going on, or at least that’s how it seemed.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Lucy asked.

  She looked around, but the other women were all shrugging and shaking their heads, with many of them still sleeping.

  ‘We’ve been told to stay seated,’ someone said.

  ‘Something’s going on out there, but Matron told us we were to stay put and wait it out. The officers didn’t want to risk our safety,’ Holly said in a hushed tone.

  Lucy sat still, listened and tried to make out what was going on.

  ‘Is it safe here?’ someone muttered. ‘I mean, aren’t we in danger being immobile on the side of the road like this?’

  Lucy stood, not able to sit a moment longer and not know what was going on. Curiosity always got the better of her, and she didn’t like sitting helpless if there was something she could do to help a situation.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she murmured, making her way to the side of the lorry. They were under canvas to protect them from the elements, but it didn’t take much for her to open the side and look out.

  Lucy surveyed the situation, watched as soldiers from their lorry and the one ahead stood and talked. They were chatting like nothing much was going on, although a few of them were standing to attention, guns at the ready.

  She climbed down, which was awkward without any assistance, but she managed to do it fine. She cleared her throat, not wanting to take the men unawares and be mistakenly shot in the process.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said politely.

  At least half a dozen uniformed soldiers turned at her and glared, their faces furious. She gulped, feeling as if she were shrinking before them as an officer pointed to the truck and barked at her.

  ‘You were told not to move!’ he shouted. ‘Get back into the truck.’

  But even as Lucy cowered at his loud voice and intimidating body language, she heard the muffled cries of a child. Her head turned, body snapping around with it. There were three children. She could only just see them. They were in the grass, far enough away that their screams were muffled, the wind carrying them to Lucy and forcing her to listen. Two were on the ground, sobbing, and a third was standing, crying out for help. Further away there were dead cattle in the fields, with the remains of a charred-black army vehicle haphazardly abandoned on the side of the road. Lucy dragged her eyes away from the vehicle, away from wondering whether soldiers had perished or whether their bodies were burnt to a crisp inside.

  ‘Sir, those children! We need to help them,’ she cried, spinning back to look at him.

  She saw a coolness in his gaze that surprised her, saddened her. Surely they weren’t all standing here looking and listening without doing anything?

  ‘Get back in the truck,’ he ordered.

  ‘Are you honestly going to leave them there? Young children with no one to help them?’ she pleaded, finding a strength that was coming in such strong waves she knew she wouldn’t back down. ‘Are we not here to assist the French people? Our allies?’

  His expression was fuelled by anger now, and she knew it was most likely for her questioning his decision in front of the other men.

  ‘Look here, little lady,’ another soldier said, interrupting their conversation, maybe trying to defuse it. ‘This place could be crawling with SS for all we know. We’re checking the situation, making sure it’s safe to proceed, then we’ll be on our way.’

  She understood safety, and making practical decisions, but she still disagreed with standing by and doing nothing when there were children involved. She wasn’t going to stand for it; they could drag her kicking and screaming back to the lorry but she was going to make her point heard.

  ‘Let me go to them,’ she said.

  ‘No,’ barked the angry officer. ‘You are to follow your orders and get back in the bloody truck!’

  ‘Please,’ she begged, glancing at the other soldier, hoping he might be more understanding. A handful of the men were staring at her now, or more like glaring. ‘Those children could be injured, they need help, and it is my duty to offer it to them. Your men can stay here, but send me. I’m wearing the Red Cross armband; no German is going to shoot me in cold blood if I pose no threat.’

  ‘They’re bloody pigs those SS,’ a soldier snarled. ‘They’d shoot their own mothers.’

  ‘This is the last time I’m going to tell you to get back in the vehicle.’

  She took a big breath and flashed her sweetest smile. ‘Please let me tend to them. I will be quick, and then it won’t play on your mind for the rest of the day that you let small children bleed out in a field whilst you stood by and did nothing.’ She paused. ‘I will run over to them with a medical bag, tend to their injuries, and then come straight back.’

  Lucy looked around. She knew the sensible thing would have been to get straight back in the truck, but that wasn’t the type of person she was. She was a nurse and she knew how to save lives. If she’d stopped to ask questions before running to the burning ambulance, Jack would be dead. She preferred to listen to her instincts, and her instincts were screaming at her right now to do something to help the children calling so desperately for them.

  ‘Sir, please,’ she tried again.

  ‘If you die out there, it’ll be your own fault,’ he said, voice gravelly. She wasn’t sure if he wanted her to die or actually cared, but she wasn’t about to stand around asking questions. ‘We call you back? You listen to instructions and follow orders. I’m not risking the life of a good soldier to save you.’

  She understood, loud and clear. ‘Yes, sir.’ From what she could tell, he thought her life wasn’t anywhere near as valuable as those of his soldiers, even though she was trained to save those very men should they need her.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ he asked.

  Lucy glanced over her shoulder, saw some of the nurses were now looking out from the truck, and she was pleased that none of them were trying to talk her out of what she was doing. Or maybe they actually had no idea what was even going on, which was highly likely.

  ‘May I take my nursing supplies?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  His voice was harsh, flat, and Lucy de
cided not to press him. She would walk calmly, slowly over to the children. Once there she could assess the situation, and then come back and beg for whatever she needed to assist them.

  Lucy nodded and started moving. She focused on her breathing and putting one foot in front of the other.

  ‘I’m coming,’ she called out, trying to make her voice sound as warm and friendly as possible. ‘Bonjour!’ She switched to French, her knowledge of the language limited, but she doubted young children living out here in the country would understand English.

  ‘Bonjour. Je m’appelle Lucy,’ she called out again, not wanting them to be scared of her.

  ‘S’il vous plaît. Aidez-nous!’ the eldest girl cried out.

  Lucy understood her words, knew she was begging for help, and she hurried the rest of the way.

  ‘I’m coming,’ she called out. ‘Oui.’

  Lucy was met by wide, tear-filled eyes when she finally reached the children. She dropped to her knees and gently touched the eldest girl, the one who’d called to her, on the shoulder.

  Her gaze dropped to the first child lying on the ground. His leg was bleeding badly, the pain in his face heartbreaking for anyone to see. When she looked at him, his mouth open as he let out a sob, she blocked it all out; the noise, the metallic smell of blood, the gruesomeness of his wounded flesh. All she concentrated on was fixing him, assessing the situation, making a diagnosis. The doctors might be the highly trained and skilled ones, but she’d been making practical decisions and dealing with wounds since she’d arrived in Normandy that terrifying night on the beach, and she’d spent the better part of six months listening to everything the doctors around her had said. She was as capable as anyone when it came to wounds now.

  Lucy looked at the bone protruding through flesh, checked to see if it was obviously broken, then she looked across at the older girl to tell her that she was going back for supplies. It was only then that she laid eyes upon the other child, another girl who had been sitting silently, almost invisible until now. Her blue eyes were brimming with unshed tears, hand to her side, pressed there tight as she stared back at Lucy.