The Poppy Field

by Deborah Carr

  Mary’s eyes snapped open. She turned on her side, resting her head on the palm of her left hand.

  “Almost? You’re brave. I doubt I’d be able to stand up to my father, if he tried that on me.” She chewed her lower lip. “I’m here because he kept going on that I should do my bit.” Mary shrugged. “He’s always blamed me for being the cause of my mother dying and the reason he never had any sons to take over his business.”

  Forgetting her mother’s wiles for a moment, Alice reached out and placed her hand on Mary’s arm. “I’m sorry. That’s horrible of him to blame you for such a thing. You like working here, though, don’t you?”

  Mary nodded. “I do. It’s been better than I ever expected. I assumed I would be going from one controlling situation to another.”

  “But at least this one is away from our parents.”

  “Exactly. My days back at home were mostly spent with him barking orders at me in our confectioner’s shop. I don’t know what I’m going to do when this war is over. It’s not as if I have any excuse but to go back.”

  Alice felt the same way. “Maybe you’ll meet someone and get married before then,” Alice suggested hopefully, although unsure where her friend was supposed to meet anyone when they spent most of their time either working or catching up on sleep.

  Mary lay back down. “I’ll only marry, as long as he doesn’t dictate how I live each day.” She groaned. “Why is it so difficult for women to be in charge of their own lives?”

  “I don’t know,” Alice answered. She was certain that her life would have been filled with many more choices if she had been born a man. “I’m only ever going to marry for love. My mother is distraught that I’m a spinster and feels that my situation reflects badly on her. She’s horrified that I didn’t get married when she expected me to, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life with a man I don’t love. I’d rather never marry.”

  Mary giggled. “Funny how it’s all about how our parents feel.”

  “I know. Mind you, if we were men, then we’d have probably been conscripted by now. We’d be out there fighting. At least here we’re behind the lines and for the most part out of danger. Is it that dreadful if we end up returning to the lives we had before the war?” Yes, she thought, it would be.

  “Maybe not,” Mary said. “I don’t know.”

  Hoping to change the subject, Alice asked, “Have you heard from your aunt again?”

  Mary visibly cheered. “Yes,” she patted the pocket in her dress and pulled out an envelope. Unfolding the pages and scanning the words, Mary said, “She says how more and more women are going to work in munitions. They’re even making the aeroplanes,” she giggled. “Can you imagine that?” She stared into space for a moment. “I’d probably be more suited to doing that sort of job. At least I wouldn’t have to listen to the pain these poor patients have to bear.”

  Alice agreed with her. “Maybe, but I’m glad you’re here, otherwise we’d never have become friends,” she said.

  “Thank you, that’s a good point.” She looked down at her letter again before lying down and staring up at the tent roof. “When you think of all the effort some of us put into the suffrage movement. Now it’s all forgotten about and men and women are fighting the Hun together.”

  Alice thought about what her friend was saying. “I have to admit that I’ve never been prouder of what I’m doing than now. It’s exhausting, and often heart-breaking, but I feel like I’m helping make a difference by being here.”

  “Me, too.” Mary looked at her and winked. “Gone are the days that women were only expected to look pretty on a man’s arm.”

  Alice hoped so. Surely, she thought, this war and their efforts during it meant that women would now be allowed to make more choices about their lives. “I suppose we ought to try and sleep, while we have the chance,” Alice said.

  She lay back and tried to decide what to do. If her mother was unwell, then she should be at home looking after her. What sort of daughter was she if she ignored her mother’s request for her to return home? She would speak to Matron in the morning and request leave. Fear coursed through Alice. If her mother was truly sick, then would she ever be able to return to France? What about Ed? If she left, would she ever see him again? She took a deep breath to reduce the pressure building up inside her chest.

  “It’s fine,” Mary whispered. “You’ll come back, you’ll see. We’ll find a way.”

  Confused, Alice wondered if maybe she had spoken her fears out loud, then realised her friend knew her well enough to gauge her thoughts.

  “You’re right,” she said, unsure if Mary had any notion how she could ensure her return. “I need to take it one step at a time and not panic.”

  Chapter 10

  Gemma

  May - 2018

  Distracted from reading Alice’s letter by the sound of the metal mail box jangling, Gemma turned her head to see an envelope land on the floor. She went to pick it up, just as the door opened and Tom peered inside.

  “Let me get that for you,” he said picking it up and handing it to her.

  Surprised and delighted to see him again, Gemma beamed. “Well, this is an unexpected treat.”

  “I like that you think so.”

  “Come in, then,” she said waving for him to enter the room. “I have a sneaking suspicion I know what this is.” She waved the official looking envelope in the air before inserting her little finger through the gap at the top and tearing it open. Pulling out the folded piece of paper, she read it quickly.

  “It’s from work,” she said quietly, re-reading the words she’d been expecting for a couple of weeks. They want to know when I’m going back.” The time had come for her to decide. Coming to France to take on this project had been a promising idea of her father’s but they both knew it was a temporary placement. She stared at the neat font on the letter.

  “Will you be going back?”

  “Either I return to what I know, but have lost my passion for, or find something else to invest my time and emotions in.” She looked up at him, glad he was here to discuss her thoughts with.

  “Go with your instincts.”

  She wanted to, but Gemma wasn’t certain what her instincts were telling her. She studied her ragged nails. “The thing is, I don’t think I want to go back. I’ve loved it here.” She noticed Tom’s lips draw back, very slightly. The movement was so subtle she wasn’t certain whether she imagined it. “It’s been refreshing doing something completely different.”

  She spotted two paper bags in his hand. “What have you got there?”

  “I thought you could do with a break from whatever it was that you were doing, so I bought lunch.”

  Gemma smiled. “You see? That’s why we get along so well. You feed me when I forget to eat. I like this arrangement.”

  Tom laughed. “Right, well leave that letter on the table and let’s go and make the most of this exceptionally warm May day and have a picnic.”

  She didn’t need to be asked twice. “I won’t argue with that suggestion.”

  They walked up towards the five-bar gate and Gemma let her hand glide across the heads of the colourful weeds along the hedgerow as she made her way up the slope.

  “If you did stay in France, would you remain in Doullens, do you think?” Tom asked breaking the silence.

  Would she? Gemma wasn’t sure. “The only thing connecting me to this place is my friendship with you really,” she said. “I don’t know anyone else. I feel more at home here than I expected.”

  “Was Brighton ever home for you?” he asked, lifting the wire from the top of the gate and pushing it open. “Or, I suppose Jersey, seeing as that’s where you grew up.”

  She gave his question some thought. “To be honest, I’m not sure. Thinking back to my flat in Brighton, it doesn’t seem as if it was ever a home, more of a place to sleep and eat.” She considered what she had just said. “I love Jersey, always will. Obviously, I feel connected to the island, but I
think home is where you choose to settle.”

  He stopped at a small patch of grass where fewer poppies would be damaged if they sat down. “Here?”

  “Perfect,” she said.

  They sat, and both stared thoughtfully at the expanse of green, with the occasional red headed poppy standing proudly. “I can’t wait till this field is awash with poppies,” she said.

  He undid the top of one of the brown paper bags and held it out to her. “I know you don’t eat much meat, so both baguettes are cheese and tomato.”

  Gemma breathed in the scent of freshly cooked bread. “They smell heavenly. Thanks very much.” She lifted one of the baguettes from the bag and took a paper napkin.

  “How do you know this wasn’t just my excuse to come to enjoy eating my lunch in this beautiful spot?”

  “I don’t care,” she giggled, truthfully. “You’re feeding me. I like your company, so this suits me too.”

  “If you did stay here,” he said, folding his napkin around the base of his baguette. “What do you think you’d do, workwise?”

  She sighed as she finished her mouthful. She had no idea. “I’m not sure, which is why I might just have to go back.”

  “Would your parents want you to continue with your nursing?”

  It was time to open up a little to him. He was her friend, after all, and if he was going to understand her in any way then he would need to know more about her family.

  “To be honest, I’m not terribly close to my parents.”

  He looked saddened by this information. “I assumed that as you were an only child, you would be a close little unit,” he said shaking his head. “I’m not sure why, but that was the picture I had of you all.”

  Gemma crossed her legs and forced a smile. “I would like to say you were right, but it isn’t the case. My mother is a lawyer,” she said proudly. “She’s been involved in all sorts of high profile cases. Her career comes before anything, Dad, or me. She’s always been that way. Dad’s a businessman and his life is all about making money and supporting Mum. I don’t know anything different and so I don’t hold it against them. It’s just how it is, I guess.”

  “Where do you figure in it all?” he said narrowing his eyes thoughtfully.

  Gemma sighed. She didn’t want sympathy from him. “Look, I’m only telling you this because I want you to understand why it doesn’t matter to them where I live.” She stared at the peaceful view in front of her. “I suppose I’m luckier than some, in a way. My parents never make me feel beholden to them or ask anything of me.” She smiled to soften her words. “I probably wouldn’t mind being needed just once or twice in my life,” she admitted. “But they have each other. I was an unexpected baby, to say the very least.”

  Tom looked sad. “You must have spent time with them growing up?”

  She shook her head. “Not much. They’re real socialites. I was always well looked after, but it was by babysitters, or nannies. My parents aren’t very close to their own families, so I didn’t really mix with cousins, or anything.”

  Tom stared at her. “It sounds like a very lonely childhood.”

  It did, even to her own ears. “It wasn’t as bad as it seems. Don’t forget I didn’t know any better. And I did learn to appreciate books and being by myself.”

  “Friends back in Brighton?”

  She shook her head. “I pretty much kept myself to myself, apart from the odd occasion when I had to attend an event.”

  He continued to eat his baguette, staring at her thoughtfully.

  “What?” she laughed. “I must sound like a right Billy-no-mates.”

  He shook his head and finished his mouthful. “No, I was thinking how friendly you are for someone who’s spent most of their life enjoying their own company.”

  “Thank you, I think,” she said taking a bite of her baguette and smiling at him over the top of it. “At least my parents are honest about their feelings,” she added. “I’d rather that than people pretending to feel deeply about me and lying.”

  He reached forward and brushed a crumb off her cheek. “Has someone done that to you?”

  “My last boyfriend.”

  “Want to tell me more?” He finished his food and leant back resting his hands on the grass behind him.

  Did she? She wasn’t used to sharing her feelings with anyone. She looked at Tom, who was watching her intently. The gentle expression on his tanned face made her want to confide in him. What was the worst that could happen? He could laugh at me, she thought. No, Tom wouldn’t do that.

  “We were seeing each other for a few months. I knew he’d been married but he swore he was legally separated from his wife and living apart from her.”

  “And he wasn’t.”

  She shook her head.

  “How did you find out? Someone at work tell you?”

  “Nope.” She cleared her throat, wondering if opening up this wound would bring back all the shock, humiliation and devastation, or if sharing it would help heal her. She took a deep breath. “He was injured in a pile-up on the motorway and brought into the trauma unit with several others.” She pictured the chaos of that day. “It was manic. The team were rushing about trying to deal with the stream of accident victims being brought in by ambulances. I was helping work on him, when I noticed his watch.” She hesitated, determined to finish what she was telling him.”

  “Go on.”

  “I barely recognised his face, he was that battered. His phone rang, and I was handed it and told to answer it.”

  “It was his wife?” Tom said quietly.

  “How did you know?” she asked, her heart pounding with the tension of reliving the events of that life-changing day.

  “A good guess. What happened next?”

  “She asked who I was, which was understandable. I told her gently that he’d been involved in an accident and where he was.” She exhaled sharply. “She told me she’d need to find someone to look after their baby, but that she would be there as soon as she could.”

  “Did he make it?”

  Gemma shook her head, miserably. Tom leant forward and took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. “I’m so sorry you went through that, Gemma. It must have been horrendous on so many levels.”

  She breathed in the warm skin of his tanned neck and closed her eyes, comforted by his strong hold on her. “I was shocked and didn’t know whether to mourn for him, for our relationship that never really was, or for his wife and the baby who’d have to grow up without a father.”

  Tom held her tighter and she realised she was crying. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to pull away.

  “It’s fine,” he said not lessening his hold. “Sometimes it’s good to share these things.”

  Sobbing quietly, she slid her arms around him, allowing him to hold her while she cried.

  Chapter 11

  Alice

  1916

  Several days later, Alice was called to Matron’s office. She stood in front of Matron’s desk, trying to imagine what she could have possibly done wrong. Her stomach contracted nervously at the thought that someone could have spied on her with Ed. Had they been seen kissing? The thought made her mouth go dry. Was she about to be sent home in disgrace? She stared at the top of Matron’s head waiting for her to finish writing notes.

  Eventually, Matron placed her fountain pen down on her desk and blotted her work. She looked up at Alice and clasped her hands together.

  “As you’re aware Nurse Le Breton, I’m obliged to read all my nurses’ incoming mail.” Alice nodded. “I note that you have received several from your mother, who appears to be ailing somewhat.” She waited for Alice’s reply.

  “That’s correct, Matron.”

  The older woman frowned, thoughtfully. “I don’t understand. If this is the case, then why haven’t you come to me to request leave to return to the Channel Islands?” Alice nodded guiltily. “If your mother is ill, then you must surely go to her?”

  Alice tried to form a coheren
t sentence. One that wouldn’t end up with Matron seeing her as a selfish, unfeeling woman.

  “Well?” Matron tapped her two index fingers together impatiently.

  Alice took a deep breath. “I’m unsure if my mother is in fact ill,” she said, cross that her reply hadn’t come out the way she had intended.

  Matron stiffened. “Not ill? Are you insinuating that your mother has fabricated this information?”

  Alice fidgeted from one foot to the other. “No, but,” she hesitated, trying to find the words. “My mother didn’t want me to come here,” she explained. “I suspect she may be feigning illness to ensure my return.”

  “And you do not wish to go.” It was a statement rather than a question. Her words made Alice wonder if maybe Matron had her own issues with her family. Could she understand the position Alice found herself in better than she was letting on?

  “I’m needed here, Matron,” Alice tried to explain. “We’re desperately short of nurses, as you know,” she added, hoping Matron wouldn’t find her reply patronising in any way. “I worry that if my mother is exaggerating her health issues, which I have to admit she has done several times in the past, then I believe I’d be wasting time going home.”

  She didn’t mean to sound nasty towards her mother. She loved her, very much. But she also knew what her mother was capable of and this seemed too familiar for Alice to be fooled.

  “The journey alone takes a couple of days, both ways. I have to go via the south coast of England, you see.”

  “I’m well aware, Nurse Le Breton. However, you must go.” Alice opened her mouth to argue, but Matron narrowed her eyes and stopped her before one syllable could escape. “There’s an ambulance taking two of the patients back to England. You’ll accompany them to Dover and from there other nursing staff will take over. You may then travel to Southampton to catch the ferry on to Jersey. I’ve signed a leave pass and travel warrant.” Alice didn’t bother arguing. “You have two weeks before you’re expected to return. Naturally, if your mother is worse than you fear, then write to me and I shall extend your leave.”