by Anthology
Subconsciously I've taken hold of the frame. We're laughing. I can't remember the joke, but the photographer told us we'd ruined the photograph, that we needed to stand still. I thought - and my opinion is still the same - that it's perfect. It's a little blurry where we're moving but the moment was captured. It's real. It's us. Her arm is wrapped around my waist, her head just reaches my shoulder.
I look up, Ida's moved back over to her suitcase and is putting clothes in the wardrobe. She has a heap of underclothes beside the suitcase, getting them out the way for her to access the things that need hanging up. She reaches down to get another garment, pulling free a pale yellow dress, I know it's one of her favourites. She holds it in front of her for a few seconds, playing with a silk flower sewn onto the front. Placing it in the wardrobe she bends back over the suitcase. I watch her body move under her clothes. She's wearing a dark blue dress that reaches just above her ankles with brown boots laced on her dainty feet.
I recognise the dress as the same one she was wearing earlier, only she's thrown a knitted jumper over it now. The outfit doesn't match, my mother would be horrified by the pairing, but I smile. I see the old Ida in her now. The Ida she was when we were kids. Pre-marriage Ida. She hasn’t changed but her clothes did get better with money, or less comfortable as she would say.
I get out of the chair slowly. My body is dry now so my clothes no longer itch. I walk across the floor, setting the photo frame on the bedside table. I go over to Ida, to my wife. I want to feel her body against mine, to run my hands over every inch of her. I want the voices and the ringing to shut up and let us have this one moment at least. I've missed her so much and here she is. She's come back for me.
PERCY'S TOUCH MAKES me jump. I didn't hear him approach but he's behind me now, his hands on my waist. He moves one hand and I can feel my hat pins being slid from my hair. My hat gets dropped to the ground and he moves a lock of hair off my shoulder. My hair’s been pinned up in the same style for ages and is now beginning to fall loose. Percy’s lips are on my neck. They hardly touch me, caressing my skin so lightly he's barely there at all.
“You came back,” he says between kisses.
“Of course, I came back. Where else would I go?” My breath hitches. “I didn't even stop long enough to drink my tea. It'll be cold now. That’s got to be the biggest sin in England, only important people can make me leave my tea to go cold.”
I feel his breath against me as he laughs. His arms tighten and he rests his chin on my shoulder. I lean into him.
“I don't suppose they'd let me have tea,” he murmurs.
“We can ask. Maybe they'll let you have it in a bottle instead.” I laugh and he surprises me by joining in.
“I love you,” he whispers, in my ear after a few seconds. My heart melts and I turn around in his arms, resting my forehead against his.
“That's more like it. I love you too, you daft bugger.”
“I guess I deserve that.”
“More than that actually but I'll let it go, given the circumstances.”
A shadow passes over his eyes but he swallows, managing to smile again. I feel as if I'm walking on eggshells, forever afraid I'll say the wrong thing. I try to put my worries to one side, to live only in this moment. We look at each other for a long while, smiling from ear to ear like giddy school children. His hands move from my waist, a smile tilting up one side of his mouth. I feel his hands sink downwards and I raise an eyebrow. He laughs, a breathy laugh that wafts over my face.
“Do you mind?” he breathes. I shake my head. My mouth's dry. Slowly, he moves his face closer, inch by inch, finally touching his lips to mine. I kiss him back. A low moan rumbles in his throat and I hold on tighter. The kiss deepens, both our mouths moving faster, desperate to get more of each other. I grip his hair, grabbing at the messy strands, longer than they’ve ever been. His hands are running wild, trying to touch as much of me as possible. They creep up my jumper and find their way to my breast, touching it over my dress. I break away from him, breathing heavily. He gives me that same lopsided grin I've seen a thousand times.
“We can't, not here,” I whisper.
He touches his lips to mine, moving his hand onto my back again.
“Why not?”
He raises a good point. Why not?
No, I snap out of it, fixing my gaze on his.
“Someone could walk in.”
“We'll put a chair in front of the door.”
“That'll make them panic, they'll knock the door down.”
“True...we’ll put a sign on the door.”
I snort out a laugh. “Are you mad?” I say without thinking.
He looks at me. “Well, yes. Apparently.”
“I suppose, we are married,” I justify, glad he seems to still be in good humour. I feel like he’s desperately trying to hold onto his good mood, though, holding something back. He smiles again, a real smile this time.
“I suppose we are, Mrs Denton. What can they do? I want to make love to my wife, Ida."
I shiver under his touch and he seizes his opportunity, bringing his lips back down to mine. There's no gentle warm up this time. We both know what we want.
Why not? I tell myself as he picks me up, taking me over to his narrow bed. Why not?
My Percy is still in here somewhere. Perhaps this will help bring him out. There’s nothing to lose so I let myself be held, taken to the world of just Percy and I.
MY HANDS ROAM, trying to remember every curve of her as we continue to kiss. I pick her up and she lets me carry her towards my bed. Dropping her down I climb up, resting above her.
We keep our clothes on, only adjusting them slightly so the vital parts of us are exposed. That’s Ida’s condition, so we can rearrange our dignity quickly should we need to. I’ve already lost all my dignity. I no longer care for it. I want to feel her naked flesh against mine, but I’ll take her in any form she’ll let me, so I don’t protest.
I can barely contain my excitement and it seems she feels the same. She kisses me with a feverish desperation, letting her tongue caress my own in our well-practiced dance. I want her so much it hurts. I need her.
My hand feels for the hem of her dress, sliding it up her leg. She sighs and I continue my exploration of her body, remembering my favourite routes. I bite my lip, praying for control as we connect. Neither of us need warming up, our need for each other is too great.
I kiss her again, harder this time, and her hands tighten in my hair. I can’t control myself any longer. There’s sweat breaking out on both our bodies, our scents mixing in the air around us. The headboard bashes against the wall and I feel certain every orderly in the hospital must be on their way. I try not to think, to focus only on Ida, to the pleasure coursing through my veins, rising to an ecstatic crescendo. She sinks her teeth into my shoulder to muffle a moan. I shudder, feeling the release I’ve waited months for. She whispers my name in a breathy voice, her face crumpled in a suppressed cry.
It’s over a lot faster than I would have liked. It makes Ida giggle like she used to when we were still lovesick kids. I can’t help joining in. I rearrange my clothes and soon we’re both fully dressed again, lying side by side on my single bed, breathing heavily. The mattress is a lot more comfortable than in the officer’s dugout in Ypres, or any of the other godforsaken places I was sent.
“I’ve missed you.” The sound of my voice fills the otherwise silent room. We’re both still out of breath. The sweat on my skin has made my pyjamas damp but Ida doesn’t seem to mind. She slithers into my arms, cuddling against my chest. She’s so small, I always feel as if I can protect her from everything when she’s curled against me. I kick out my legs and battle beneath the covers, pulling them up over our shoulders. She doesn’t say anything, but I know from the way she holds me back that she’s missed me as well.
I curse quietly as she presses her feet against my legs. Even with her stockings on they’re freezing.
“Are your toes made of ice?”<
br />
She giggles again and I’m reminded of all our stolen hours together.
I feel relaxed. My muscles are heavy but satisfied as I sink into the soft mattress. I don’t want to fall asleep but I can’t help my eyes closing. I might just rest like this for a while.
I won’t fall asleep. I’ll just rest my eyes.
I’ll open them in a minute…five at the most.
I’ll just – I’ll just rest a while.
IT'S BEEN SO long since we've been like this. Intimate, reckless, and too in love to care. There’s been tension inside me since Percy left, a level of stress I could never relieve. Now that tension has gone I feel lighter than I ever have. My body feels completely relaxed whilst happiness courses through my blood. I shift closer to Percy. We have to lie close on this bed to avoid him ending up on the floor, but I don't mind. My head is resting on his chest. His top is unbuttoned so my cheek is warm against his bare skin. The sound of his slowing heartbeat seems to be almost inside me it's so close. I can feel Percy's hand on my back, making slow circles there. Moving as little as possible I kiss his chest, making a smile appear on his lips. His hand around me tightens, bringing me closer.
“Are you asleep?”
“No.”
I laugh a little.
“You look so happy. Who knew treatment would be that simple.”
“Mhmm, maybe I should have another dose, though, just to be sure.”
“No chance, mister. You have to wait at least twenty-four hours between treatments I think.”
“I will definitely hold you to that.”
“And be on your best behaviour.”
“Darn, I was planning on misbehaving awfully.”
I laugh, kissing him on the chest again. I trace the bare skin with my fingertips, trying to memorise the feel of his new body. He is so much thinner. His muscles have deteriorated whilst his skin is pale and waxy. I need to get him to eat, that’s tomorrow’s challenge. I raise my head again to look at his face, expecting his eyes to be open but they’re closed. I listen and his breathing is steady, his hand behind me has gone slack. He’s fallen asleep. He must have been exhausted to have fallen asleep that quickly.
I wonder again about the life he’s lived in the months we’ve been apart. The stories he’s told me so far have been the subject of nightmares, the worst horrors imaginable, but he lived through those, he continued to write me letters and live his life as normally as possible. What was it that finally made him crack?
I feel helpless. I want to hold him as tightly as I can and protect him from the world, but I can’t. I couldn’t protect him then and I can’t do it now. I can just remain with him, support
him through whatever life throws at us both next.
I shift next to him so I can look at his face without craning my neck. He looks so peaceful, so at ease with the world. I haven’t seen him look like this in so long.
“I love you,” I whisper. Even in sleep, those words bring a small smile to his lips. His eyes are moving ever so slightly behind his eyelids as he slips deeper into sleep. I hope he’s dreaming about something nice. “You’re my everything, Percy, please get better. For me.”
I trace my fingers now over his cheek, feeling the prickly stubble there. It’s different to the usually soft skin but it’s still him. I hope my words can find their way into his dreams.
We had planned to have children when he returned from war, thinking it would only be a couple of months but that future seems so far away now. I let a silent tear fall from my eye at how irrevocably my life has altered in just a few hours.
How can one telegram change a person’s life so much?
Feeling tired right down to my bones, I place my cheek against his heart again and close my eyes. The second my lids meet I feel like I’m falling, falling fast into unconsciousness. I only half register the soft pattering of rain against the window.
RAIN FALLS ON the roof, beating against the mud. I take a deep breath, annoyed the rain has pulled me from my heavy sleep. Sleep is so hard to come by here, let alone a good night’s sleep. There’s a distant ringing in my ears. I focus on that, hoping the white noise will help me drift back off. I’m cold, as I always am here, and my skin itches with lice. As I’m pulled further and further into consciousness I become more aware of my discomfort. There’s steady breathing beside me, the second lieutenant must still be asleep. Lucky bastard.
An explosion rips through the air. I sit bolt upright. I’m breathing heavily, my eyes still bleary from sleep. Another flash, another explosion. The ground shakes beneath me. The ringing in my ears gets louder and louder as the rain continues to hammer down outside and wind howls across the opening of our dugout. I run a hand over my face, feeling around for my revolver. I can’t find it. My search grows more frenzied.
“Where’s my gun?” I ask the room. I pat myself down, as if it might miraculously appear. What if they come over? I have no way of protecting myself or my company. “Where’s my gun?” Who’s taken it? Someone must have taken it. I can’t find it anywhere. They’re coming, I can feel it in my gut. This is it.
There’s another explosion. I freeze as dirt falls from the walls and roof onto my head. I dive out of bed, stumbling as the thin blanket tangles around my legs. Once free, I throw myself beneath the bed. I never realised there was so much space beneath it, it had always seemed so small before, so unstable. I crawl as far underneath it as I can, huddling in the furthest corner. I continue to scan the space for my gun but I know in my heart someone’s taken it from me. I can’t do anything to protect my men without my gun. There isn’t anything I can do against a heavy bombardment anyway.
The ground shakes with another explosion and the room lights up. It must have been a close hit for the light of it to find its way in here. The ringing in my ears is so loud I have to put my hands over them, hoping to squash out the sound.
A soft hand places itself over mine, bringing my hands down from my head. I open my eyes to see Ida crouched in front of me.
“Ida. You – you can’t be here.”
“Shh, you’re alright, come out from here.”
“No, no. The bombardment’s too heavy. We have to take cover.”
I shake my head to clear it. I’m going mad, I must be. Ida can’t be here. She can’t be at the front. This is too dangerous. She can’t be here. I repeat that sentiment out loud.
“But I am here Percy, just like always.”
“It’s too dangerous Ida, you could be hurt…or killed. Please, go home.”
“I’m not leaving you, my love.”
I reach up to touch her face, wanting reassurance that she’s real. She smiles at me, but it’s a sad smile, as she places a kiss on my forehead and I rest my head against her breast. She plays with my hair. I can hear her heart racing in her chest. Her breathing is deep and unsteady.
“Shhh,” she croons. She’ll be such a good mother when this blasted war is over. I flinch, shrinking into her as another explosion sounds. It’s slightly further away than the previous ones. Perhaps they’re moving down the line. The rain is lighter now too, although, it still pounds against the duck boards outside. I can hear the men moving through the ankle deep puddles, their boots sloshing in the mud outside. There’s another explosion and someone screams in fright. I realise too late that it’s me.
“Why – why are you here?” I ask Ida, to take our minds off the bombs and the impending death they promise.
“Because you need me. Why else?”
I hold her tighter, so tight I’m worried I’ve hurt her, until she takes hold of me with the same force.
“I’m always here for you, Percy, you should know that by now.”
I feel her lips press against my hair and my heart beats for her. Even here, this hell on Earth we call the front, my love for her is all consuming. A further explosion goes off, so far down the line it’s barely audible and I close my eyes. The ringing is getting quieter again now and the rain has eased right off.
I
turn my head and kiss Ida’s palm. She falls backwards so she is resting against the wall behind her and not on her knees. I fall with her, my head finding its way into her lap, where she continues to play with my hair.
“I love you, Ida.”
There’s a short pause.
“I love you too, Percy.”
I WAKE UP suddenly, hauled from my deep slumber by a crash of thunder directly overhead. I’m pushed from the bed, landing on the floor with a sharp pain in my wrist where I instinctively try to break my fall. I curse slightly at the pain, looking up at Percy. He’s sitting bolt upright in bed, looking around with a desperate urgency.
“Where’s my gun? Who’s taken my gun?” he asks over and over again.
“Percy?” he doesn’t even look up at my question. I rise to my feet, staring at him. Do I go to him?
“Where’s my gun?”
A flash of lightning illuminates the room, at the same time as another loud crack of thunder. Percy yells and scrambles out of bed, nearly falling as the sheets tangle him up. He drops to all fours and crawls beneath the bed. I follow him, unsure what to do. He’s huddled in the corner, rocking backwards and forwards, his hands pressed against his ears. He’s sweating profusely. Even in the dark, I can see the faint sheen across his brow.
I crawl over to him. Placing my hands on his I ease them down into my lap. He opens his eyes slowly. The second they land on mine they widen in disbelief.
“Ida. You – you can’t be here.”
I grip his hands tighter. “Shh, you’re alright, come out from here.”
It’ll be so much easier to talk to him when we’re not under the bed. It’s a high bed thankfully, but we’re still huddled uncomfortably in the minuscule space. Percy looks distressed.
“No, no. The bombardment’s too heavy. We have to take cover.”
It all makes sense now. The hiding, the strange things he’s been muttering. The gun. He thinks he’s in France or Belgium. He thinks the thunder is bombs and that I’m in the trench with him. I decide quickly to play along. He’s dreaming, he must be. I heard somewhere you weren’t meant to wake someone suddenly from a sleep walk. I need to rouse him gradually. He’ll snap out of it.
