Wives of War

by Soraya M. Lane

  Or maybe she did and she just didn’t want to accept it.

  PART THREE

  London

  April, 1945

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Ellie

  Ellie stood at the window, the curtain clutched between her fingers as she stared out into the dim light. Every time her baby moved it made her restless, not because she didn’t enjoy feeling the little kicks and turns, but because it made her wish for Spencer all the more. Where was he now? In the hospital in Brussels still? Or somewhere more dangerous? The not knowing was what kept her awake long into the night, kept her tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable with her ever-growing bump. Now she realised how hard it must have been for her own parents when she left and was sent to another country.

  ‘Come away from the window, my dear.’

  She turned and let her hand drop from the fabric. Thank goodness for Lily. She’d been terrified of meeting her mother-in-law, and the prospect of staying with her had been beyond daunting. But from the moment she’d arrived Ellie had been drawn into her arms and treated like the daughter Lily had never had, and it had made her fall in love with Spencer even more. Because in that first moment, that first warm embrace, she’d seen him; in the attentive way Lily listened, the kindness, the understanding. Far from being the upper-class woman looking down her nose that Ellie had been expecting, Lily had been anything but. Spencer had a strong sense of social justice, and now she knew where it came from.

  Lily gestured to the tea she’d placed on the low table. ‘Did your mother ever laugh and tell you a watched pot never boils?’

  Ellie rolled her eyes. ‘Very funny. One of these days I’ll be watching and he’ll walk straight up that path.’

  The both laughed. Theirs was an easy relationship, and given Spencer was her only son, Lily seemed comforted by the fact that his wife was with her, with all the happiness that a new baby brings.

  ‘Are you missing your family terribly?’ Lily asked, raising her cup and taking a small sip.

  Ellie watched her, always watching, wanting to be as refined as the delicate Lily one day. She raised her teacup just as gently, taking a tiny sip. Every time she sipped real tea and not the ghastly brew they’d subsisted on in France, the flavour made her smile. In fact, it reminded her of drinking real coffee with Spencer that day in the village.

  ‘I’m looking forward to going back to see them again soon,’ she said, setting her cup down. ‘But if you’re asking whether I’m comfortable here, then the answer is yes.’

  Her own mother was busy on the farm, working beside her father, and one of her brothers was at home convalescing and enjoying having their mother clucking over him. Had her mother been alone, then Ellie would have felt differently about leaving her so quickly to come back to London, especially after losing her brother, Connor. She blinked away tears as she thought about her lovely big brother, wondering if he’d had a nurse holding his hand before he’d passed away. It had been lovely seeing her family again; lovely but bittersweet.

  ‘I love having you here, Ellie. I would be terribly sad if you left, but your family deserve the chance to spend time with you, too.’

  Ellie nodded. ‘Spencer liked the idea of me being here. He had the strange idea that you’d be better at looking after me than my own mother. Even though I repeatedly told him she was a midwife!’ She suspected the truth was more to do with his worries about his mother here alone. He probably liked the thought of Ellie keeping her company while he couldn’t.

  Lily grinned over her teacup, and not for the first time Ellie thought how youthful she seemed. Widowed before the war and with her only son away, it must have been so lonely for her waiting for news. But she was far from being an old spinster, and Ellie was more than happy to play the role of surrogate daughter.

  ‘Has little baby been moving today?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ellie’s hand dropped to her stomach. She was six months along now and her stomach was round and protruding. ‘I’m certain he’s a big bouncing boy.’

  ‘Heaven help us,’ Lily teased. ‘Although if his father doesn’t make it home in time to hold him as a newborn, he’ll get mighty sick of his grandmother clucking and never letting anyone else have a hold.’

  Ellie leaned back into the sofa and let her head rest back. Her sleep was always troubled, not only because of Spencer, but also because of the memories that haunted her. This was why she was always tired, the exhaustion bone deep, even though it was a different type of exhausted to how she’d felt nursing. If it wasn’t the past or the baby, it was her brother. Even happy childhood memories of him were enough to keep her up all night.

  ‘Are you going to visit your friend again now she’s home?’

  Ellie sat forwards to reach for her tea. ‘I’m desperate to see her, but after last time . . .’ She sighed. Lucy had been the most independent and capable of them all, and to think of her so badly injured and refusing to see even her friends was almost impossible. It took hours to get to Lucy’s house and as much as she wanted to see her, she hadn’t been home all that long and the last thing Ellie wanted to do was push her too soon to receive a visitor.

  ‘It takes time adjusting after an injury,’ Lily said. ‘Give her time. One day she’ll be so happy to see you, I promise.’

  ‘I have written to her every week,’ Ellie said. ‘Next time I will turn up unannounced and force her to see me.’ Once the war was over, she wouldn’t give her a choice, but for now while travel was difficult all that way, letters would have to do.

  ‘If you’d like me to go with you, I’d be more than happy to.’ Lily raised her teacup and took a sip. ‘Anything you need, all you have to do is ask.’

  Ellie considered her words. Maybe she should take up Lily’s offer and go to see Lucy. It would be hard once the baby was here, or in her last few weeks of pregnancy.

  ‘He’ll be back before you know it,’ Lily said. ‘I know how hard it is, waiting and hoping, but he will come back.’

  Ellie hoped she was right. It was moments like this that she wished she had stayed with her own family, out in the country and away from everything else. Maybe there she wouldn’t feel like she was being constantly reminded of Spencer. She rubbed her hand in circles over her belly. No, that wasn’t true. Her baby would be a constant reminder even without the photos of Spencer surrounding her, his clothes hanging in his room, looking back at her whenever she reached for something of her own.

  ‘I suppose it feels extremely odd, being a married woman with a baby on the way, yet no husband in sight.’

  Ellie grinned. ‘Are you wondering if this ring is a fake?’

  Lily tut-tutted at her. ‘Perhaps I should let you read the letters my son sent. Maybe then you’d realise why I was so ready to welcome you with open arms.’

  ‘He really said such lovely things about me?’ Ellie asked, remembering the day he’d told her of the letters he’d written home.

  ‘My dear, come with me,’ Lily said, gesturing for her to follow as she stood and walked into the library. ‘I have every letter tucked away in here. I reread them whenever I’m feeling lonely, which hasn’t been often lately, given that I have you for company.’

  Ellie appreciated the offer, but she didn’t want to intrude. ‘Lily, please. You don’t need to share personal letters with me.’

  ‘They’re here,’ Lily said, pulling a neat stack from an ornate metal box. ‘Whenever you want to read them, whenever you need something to put a smile on your face, come in here and be with Spencer. His words will help keep him alive in your mind.’

  Ellie stared at the letters. On the one hand she was desperate to read them, to devour every word immediately. But the other part of her was scared of reading letters he’d written to his mother, not sure if she wanted to see words Spencer had written that weren’t for her eyes.

  ‘You’re his wife, my dear. He was taken with you from the moment he met you, and the Ellie he told me about was all guns blazing and wouldn’t have thought twice
about reading them!’

  It was true – when they’d first met she’d been far more outspoken and fun. The war had changed her, as it had many soldiers and nurses, but being here was starting to make her feel more like her old self again. Or at least a version of her old self. She forgot sometimes that Lily didn’t know the details of what they’d all been through, what had happened to her when she’d broken down.

  ‘Sometimes I worry that he only married me because . . .’ She swallowed, not wanting to discuss this with the woman who’d been so open with her, who had surely pondered the same question before her daughter-in-law even arrived. She was certain Lily would have guessed that she was pregnant before they were married, but it still wasn’t something she wanted to speak of.

  ‘Read the letters,’ Lily said, stepping back and waving towards them. ‘Once you’ve read them, you’ll have no doubts that my son wanted to marry you of his own free will. Perhaps he would have preferred a London wedding than a rushed ceremony in France. Who knows? All I know is that you’re married with a beautiful baby on the way, and any woman who managed to steal my boy’s heart like you did . . .’ Tears filled Lily’s eyes and Ellie felt a pull at her own heartstrings, a fluttering of emotion inside her so intense as she worried all over again that Spencer might not make it home.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said simply. ‘I’m going to sit here and read for a bit, if you’re certain you don’t mind?’

  Lily nodded. ‘Enjoy yourself. I’ll be in the other room if you need me.’ She paused then spoke more quietly. ‘You’ll find a ring there, in the box. Spencer asked for permission to give it to you. It belonged to his grandmother. I suspect he’d have liked to give it to you himself, but given how long you’ve been waiting for him, I think it’s only proper that you have it now.’

  Ellie waited until her mother-in-law was gone before slowly moving over to the small table, hand hovering over the letters that were waiting to be read. She tried not to think about the ring, but curiosity got the better of her and she lifted the letters out to find it. She gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth as she stared down at the gold and diamond ring. It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. The type of jewellery that she’d certainly never imagined herself having.

  Ellie slipped it on to her finger, held it out and admired the shine of the diamonds in the light of the lamps. But the moment felt surreal, especially without Spencer at her side, and she slid it off as quickly as she’d put it on, placing it carefully back in the box. She wanted it, would love to have the weight of it on her finger, but she wanted Spencer to give it to her, to wear it once he returned. For now, the melted-down links of his gold watch were more than sufficient, and they’d hold a place on her finger for ever.

  Turning to the letters once more, Ellie recognised the familiar scrawl of Spencer’s handwriting, and she lowered herself into the chair after plucking the first letter from the pile. The ring was beautiful, but the thought of reading his words was comforting, and it was comfort she was craving. Ellie took a deep breath and touched a hand to her stomach, intending on reading aloud so their baby could hear words penned by his father’s hand.

  Dear Mother,

  Would you believe that I’ve met a girl? A lovely nurse named Ellie. I can’t tell you exactly where we are, but I can tell you that, despite the horrors of what I’m seeing on a daily basis, she is making it impossible for me not to smile. I know you’d like her. She’s different, a strong Irish-born lass, but there is something so happy and bright about her, as if she were put on my service to make each day bearable. I hope you get to meet her one day, because if we both make it home in one piece, I will certainly be bringing her home for supper. I miss you terribly, and I think of you often all alone. Stay strong for me, as I will stay strong for you. Perhaps the thought of a daughter-in-law once the war is over will be enough to bring a smile to your face.

  With all my love,

  Spencer

  Ellie fell forward, the letter clutched in her hand as she started to sob. For all the nights she’d spent without him, for the future they’d both imagined that could so easily be snatched away by the war, and for the bouncing baby kicking away, oblivious to the world he or she would enter. Perhaps a world without a father.

  ‘Ellie, it’s so lovely to see you, but I’m afraid Lucy isn’t, well, up to having visitors.’

  Ellie straightened her shoulders, not prepared to walk away for a second time. It wasn’t Lucy’s mother’s fault, she was only the gatekeeper, but she’d come all this way and she was going to see Lucy.

  ‘Lucy’s stubborn, I already know that,’ Ellie said, smiling. ‘She forgets that I spent months with her acting like she was a doctor, not a nurse. When she makes her mind up, I’m well aware it’s not easy to change it.’

  That made her mother laugh. ‘That’s my daughter for you. Nearly drove her father to drink before the war with all that talk about women being able to do anything and wanting to be a doctor herself.’

  Ellie reached out, placed her hand over the older woman’s arm. ‘Lucy means the world to me, and I need to see her. Let her tell me herself that she doesn’t want company, and I promise I’ll walk straight back out of that door and not bother you again.’

  She kept her hand there, their eyes locked, until Lucy’s mother stepped back. ‘In some ways she’s lost herself, lost the spark that used to make her so strong. But she’s angry, too, Ellie. I’ll apologise now for anything she says to hurt you.’

  ‘I’m stronger than I look,’ Ellie said with a grin. ‘Besides, Lucy was there for me when I was at my lowest; now it’s my turn.’

  Ellie let herself be led down the hall, stopping when Lucy’s mother paused to push open a door. She stood back and Ellie stepped in, surprised at the cloak of darkness. It was past midday yet the curtains were still drawn, a small lamp the only ray of light in the corner of the room.

  ‘Lucy?’ she asked, stepping forward.

  ‘I told you already, I don’t want to see you or anyone else.’

  Ellie strode across the room and pushed back the curtains. ‘You can say that till the cows come home, but I’m not listening.’

  ‘No!’ Lucy screamed.

  Ellie spun around, eyes finding Lucy, seeing her for the first time. A gasp caught in her throat as she stared, fighting to avert her eyes from Lucy’s skin. Now she understood why the room was dark.

  ‘I look like a monster, don’t I?’ Lucy whispered.

  Ellie walked slowly towards her, the shock still humming through her body as she felt her friend’s pain. ‘No, Lucy. You don’t.’

  ‘Just go home. I don’t want to talk, I don’t want you to look at me, and I don’t want your pity or sympathy.’

  Ellie unbuttoned her jacket and pulled it back, pointing at her large, rounded stomach. ‘You see this?’ she asked, staring at Lucy.

  Lucy looked up, arms folded as she sat on the bed.

  ‘This means that I’m the one wanting sympathy! You think I came here to give it, then you are very, very wrong. I thought you knew me better than that.’

  Lucy’s mouth turned up at the corners, but the faint smile was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

  ‘I’m carrying a baby around in here, he moves constantly, I have to go to the toilet a hundred times every night and I can’t sleep,’ Ellie continued, sitting down on the single chair in the room near the bed. ‘So now that I’ve hauled this stomach of mine all the way here, you do not get to play the sympathy card. Not to me.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy mumbled. ‘I . . . I . . .’ she stuttered, something the Lucy in France would never have done. ‘I don’t want anyone to see me because I don’t know how to behave, how to be this new version of me.’

  ‘Sweetheart, you’re still the same you,’ Ellie said softly. ‘So your skin is all burnt. It doesn’t change who you are!’

  ‘It does,’ Lucy said, sounding miserable. ‘It changes everything.’

  ‘What are you afraid of?’ Ellie asked.

>   ‘People staring at me, other women making fun of me,’ she whispered, tears falling like big dollops of rain down her cheeks. ‘Nothing used to scare me, and now everything does.’

  Ellie sighed. ‘Let me see properly,’ she said. Of all the girls, she’d had the weakest stomach, but Lucy’s burns were healed; they were nothing like what they’d had to deal with.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Lucy, it’s skin. Yours looks a little different, that’s all, and if you’re so worried about what strangers would think, then let me see and tell you the truth.’

  Lucy shook her head, but Ellie looked anyway, saw what she could. It was bad, it was heartbreaking, but it wasn’t the end of the world. ‘It’s bad,’ she said honestly, knowing Lucy would see through her if she lied. ‘But so much of you is still unchanged. It’s how you feel on the inside that’s making you scared.’

  Lucy was playing with the edge of her blanket, not saying a word.

  ‘When I was at my lowest, you were there for me. You helped me find my way, covered my shifts and guided me. I will never forget that, and I want to do the same for you.’

  ‘Then leave me,’ Lucy muttered. ‘Please, leave me and get on with your life and enjoy your baby.’

  ‘No,’ Ellie replied.

  ‘Pull the curtains on your way out. I don’t want to catch sight of myself in the mirror.’

  Ellie watched her, saw her turn away, her shoulders slumped. Lucy looked defeated, and it broke her heart, but if she didn’t want her there, then she wasn’t going to stay.

  ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But I’m not burying you in darkness just because you’re afraid of your reflection.’ Ellie pulled a blanket from the back of the chair and draped it over the one mirror in the room. ‘The dark is far more scary than looking at your beautiful, brave self.’