‘Thank you,’ Grace looked down at her hands.
Noah grunted. ‘I know women are fussy about these things. And I’d want you to feel like it was your home as well as mine.’
The silence stretched between them again until at last the rail halt for the village came into sight.
Grace could hardly scramble off the cart quick enough. As she was gathering her belongings from the back of the wagon, Noah said, ‘You just have a think about it anyway. Take your time, I’m in no hurry. You know what it’s like, things move slowly down here.’
He leaned forward and Grace realised with horror that he was trying to give her a little peck on the cheek, but she had ducked out of the way just in time.
The train was overcrowded again, but this time Grace scarcely noticed. She didn’t even bother to clear a patch on the steamy glass so she could catch a last, lingering look at the countryside. Instead she sat upright, staring at the sagging net of the luggage rack opposite, still trying to take in the events of the past two days.
A few years ago, an offer like this from Noah Wells would have been more than she had ever dared hoped for. From the moment she turned twelve years old and started to sprout taller than her brothers and most of the boys at the village school, it had been made clear to her that she would struggle to attract a husband.
‘What man would want a great gangly weed like you?’ her mother would say. ‘You’re all arms and legs, girl, and clumsy with it. You’d break every pot in his house before a week was out.’
As time went on, it seemed as if her mother was right. Gradually the local boys all started to pair up with girls, and the pretty, petite ones like Jessie and Beth went first. Then it was the turn of the girls whose fathers were landowners, and who had no brothers.
Grace took the rejection in good part. She went to all the village weddings, watching as one by one her friends found husbands. After everything she had been told, it simply never occurred to her that she might deserve one too.
Had Noah Wells come along then, with his acres of land and his farmhouse with indoor plumbing, she would have considered herself very fortunate indeed.
But since then she had lived in London and met all the other girls. She had seen them flirt and fall in love. She had seen them giddy with romance; heartbroken when it all ended. From what she could tell, being in love was like being on a carousel at the fairground, going round and round, up and down, caught up in a whirlwind of the most wonderful, exciting highs and lows.
And she dearly wished she could feel some of that heady excitement herself.
Of course, the sensible side of her knew she was being silly, that she might as well wish for the moon. No man had ever shown any interest in her. No young medical student had ever flirted with her, let alone courted her.
No, if she was going to get married then Noah Wells was her best chance.
But then Grace thought about Anna, and how excited she was at the prospect of her wedding. She was so consumed with love, all she could think about was getting married to the man she adored.
Grace could never imagine feeling like that about Noah Wells.
But there was something else to consider besides herself. As her mother had explained, the farm was in trouble and she knew her family was relying on her to help them. This marriage to Noah Wells would solve all their problems.
A steady, sensible sort, Noah had called her. It was hardly the kind of compliment to get a young girl’s heart racing. But it was probably the best Grace Duffield was ever going to get.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Grace put her own concerns determinedly to one side as she walked on to Wilson ward.
Sylvia Saunders and Mary Finnegan had already served the bedtime drinks and got the patients settled, and were in the middle of the medications round when she arrived, so she reported to Sister to see if there was anything else to be done.
As Grace approached Miss Parker’s office, she heard Dr Carlyle’s voice coming from inside.
‘A full discharge,’ she was saying. ‘I really didn’t expect that, did you?’
‘As a matter of fact, I did,’ said Dr Logan. ‘I’ve read his records, and frankly I’m not surprised the army doesn’t want him in their ranks anymore.’
‘Is he that bad?’
‘The man is more lethal than a hand grenade.’
Grace paused, her hand still raised to knock on the door.
‘Perhaps we should be keeping him in, if he’s so unstable?’ she heard Dr Carlyle say.
‘I would agree with you, if there was anything we could do to help him.’
‘Are you saying he can’t be cured?’
‘I’m saying,’ Dr Logan replied, ‘that what we’re dealing with is far more than a case of neurasthenia. This particular psychopathy is deep seated and would take a great deal of time and effort to treat. Always assuming Private Stanning is willing, which I believe is highly unlikely, given that he doesn’t believe there is anything wrong with him …’
Private Stanning?
Grace took a step back, straight into a screen that had been left outside the office. Time seemed to freeze as it fell, crashing to the ground in horrifying slow motion.
She was still standing there, rooted to the spot, as the door to Sister’s office opened and Kate Carlyle stuck her head out.
‘What the – oh, Nurse Duffield, it’s you.’ There was no surprise on her face as she looked down at the calamity and then back at Grace. ‘What do you want?’
Grace opened her mouth but no sound emerged.
‘I – I was looking for Sister,’ she finally managed.
‘I believe she went down to Matron’s office to discuss a new admission.’
‘Right. Thank you, Doctor.’
Grace glanced beyond Dr Carlyle’s shoulder. Dr Logan was sitting at Miss Parker’s desk, his head bent over a sheaf of notes.
‘Was there something else, Nurse Duffield?’ Dr Carlyle frowned at her.
‘No. No, thank you, Doctor.’
The next moment the door closed in her face, shutting her out. Grace stood for a moment, staring at the name plate bearing the words ‘Ward Sister’s Office’. She could see her shocked face reflected in the polished brass.
‘Honestly, Duffield, you could be more careful!’
Grace turned to see Mary Finnegan behind her. ‘I’m sorry?’ she murmured.
‘Trampling around like a baby elephant, knocking things over.’ Mary tutted as she went to pick up the fallen screen. ‘You know it sets them off. Saunders is still trying to calm Sergeant Flynn down. The poor man is hiding under his bed, convinced he’s under enemy fire – are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘I – I’m fine.’ Grace glanced back at the closed door.
‘Then help me with this, would you?’
Grace galvanised herself into action and between them they lifted the heavy screen back in place, just as Miss Parker returned to the ward.
‘At last!’ Mary Finnegan said. ‘Now we can go off duty. Try not to wreck the place overnight, won’t you?’
Half an hour later, everyone else had gone, leaving Grace alone on the darkened ward. In the darkness, the sound of snoring mingled with the usual moans, yelps and cries of distress. Some men shouted warnings, while others simply sobbed. One man, Private Hobbs, cackled with laughter in his sleep.
Grace made her way slowly down the ward, checking on them all by the dim light of her lamp. As she approached Edward Stanning’s bed, she could see he was sitting up, propped against the pillows.
Grace felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. She would have walked by, but Edward called out to her.
‘Did you hear my news, Nurse? I’m going home tomorrow.’
Grace paused at the foot of his bed. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Nurse Beck told me you’d been discharged.’
‘A full discharge, Nurse!’ Edward grinned. ‘I’ll never have to wear a uniform again!’
Frankly I’m not
surprised the army doesn’t want him in their ranks anymore. I’ve read his records …
Grace swallowed hard. ‘That’s very good news, Private Stanning.’
‘It’s more than that, Nurse. It’s the start of my new life.’ He looked pleased with himself. ‘What with that and marrying Anna, I reckon after tomorrow I’ll have everything I’ve ever wanted.’
Outside, the wind sent a sudden squall of sleet rattling against the window like a burst of machine-gun fire. Grace started in fright.
‘Blimey, Nurse, what’s the matter with you?’ Edward said. ‘You’re as jumpy as these other poor devils!’
Grace smiled uneasily. ‘It’s just the storm, that’s all.’
‘It’s horrible, ain’t it? Mind, the weather had better buck its ideas up by tomorrow. If the sun doesn’t shine on my wedding day, I won’t be happy about it!’
Grace looked at his open, laughing face. Surely Dr Logan must have got it wrong, she thought. There was no malice in Edward Stanning’s expression.
‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,’ she said.
But Grace was still troubled when she returned to her desk in the centre of the ward. She tried to work on the reports, but her mind kept wandering back to the conversation she had overheard.
Was Edward Stanning really dangerous? she wondered. She knew he had a quickfire temper, and his moods could change from day to night in the blink of an eye. But lots of the men on Wilson ward found it difficult to control their emotions. And Edward had always been quite charming to her.
And Anna loved him with all her heart. Surely she would have sensed if there was something dark in him?
More than a case of neurasthenia, Dr Logan had said.
She glanced down the length of the ward. The end of the long gallery was in shadow, but she could hear the soft chorus of moans and sighs as the men finally settled into uneasy sleep. From what she could see, Edward had settled down too.
Grace put down her pen, the page still blank in front of her. It was no good; she would not be able to concentrate until she knew for sure.
Leaving her lamp on the desk, she crept down the ward to the foot of his bed.
‘Private Stanning?’ she whispered. ‘Edward?’
There was no reply. In the darkness, she could hear Edward sighing in his sleep.
She carefully unhooked his notes from the foot of his bed and scuttled back to Sister’s desk.
There was the usual sheaf of medical notes, with details of pulse, respiration, temperature and the results of any samples taken and medication given. But underneath these someone had pinned a large buff envelope marked ‘Private’ in bold black ink.
For a moment Grace hesitated. Then, with trembling hands, she carefully unfolded the flap on the envelope and took out the sheets of paper within.
There was Edward Stanning’s army report, several pages detailing incidents of disciplinary matters, all written in his commanding officer’s neat hand. Grace leafed through them, her eyes running down the columns listing various fights, arguments with the other men, and acts of insubordination that had resulted in several field punishments. There was also a note that Edward had been taken away from the front line several months earlier and given a transport job in one of the supply trenches because he was ‘seriously affecting morale’.
What did that mean? Grace wondered.
She set the report aside and turned to Dr Logan’s carefully typed report. It was difficult to read the close script by the light of the dim lamp, but words popped out at her.
Psychopathy. Constitutional flaws in character. Profound deficit in behaviour, lacking proper feelings, showing tendencies towards delinquency, lying and mania …
‘Interesting reading, don’t you think?’
Grace looked up sharply. Edward’s hulking shape loomed over her, his face in shadow.
‘I particularly liked the paragraph where he describes me as “having a deeply disturbed nature, masked by superficial charm”. If anyone has superficial charm, I reckon it’s our Dr Logan. I could have sworn he liked me!’
His harsh laughter echoed around the quiet ward.
Grace rose to her feet. ‘You should be in bed,’ she said, her voice carefully even.
‘And you should mind your own business. Those notes are private, in case you hadn’t noticed?’
‘You’ve obviously read them.’
Edward stepped forward. In the dim light of the desk lamp, his face seemed all jutting angles and deep, shaded hollows. ‘Of course I did. Don’t you think I have the right to know what they’re all saying about me? Especially when what they’re saying is such nonsense.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘It is nonsense. Don’t you think, Nurse Duffield?’
‘I—’ The rest of her words stuck in her dry throat.
‘Of course you do. You know me, don’t you? Better than Dr Logan, at any rate.’ His mouth curled. ‘I suppose I should thank him, in a way. He probably helped get me out of the army. But all the same, it’s not fair to see lies like that written down. They are lies, Nurse. You know that, don’t you?’
There was a fixed quality to his stare that frightened her. But Grace was determined not to betray her fear as she carefully replaced the report in the envelope.
‘Let’s get you back into bed, shall—’
She gasped as Edward’s hand came down on her wrist, trapping it.
‘You won’t tell Anna, will you?’
Grace looked down at his hand, pinioning her wrist. ‘Let go of me, please, Private Stanning,’ she said in a carefully level voice.
‘Promise me, Nurse. Promise me you won’t say a word to Anna about that wretched report.’
Grace lifted her chin to meet his gaze. ‘She deserves to know what kind of a man she is marrying.’
‘But it’s all lies!’ Edward released her abruptly. He looked down at the buff envelope, the word ‘Private’ standing out even in the dim light.
‘It would break her heart,’ he said flatly. ‘You’re her friend, Nurse Duffield. You’ve seen how happy she is since I came home. She’s so looking forward to us getting married, settling down, building a life together. Do you really want to ruin all that for her – for us?’
Grace thought about Anna, skipping around their room as she packed her belongings. Edward was right, she had been happier since he came home. For the first time in a long time, she was actually looking forward to her future.
‘Perhaps that wretched report is right,’ Edward interrupted her thoughts. ‘Perhaps I’m not the man I once was. God knows, the war has changed me, just like it’s changed all these other poor men in here.’ He looked around in the shadowy darkness. ‘But all I need is a chance,’ he said. ‘I can be the man I once was. I just need time, a stable home, a purpose in life. I need Anna.’ He turned pleading eyes to meet Grace’s. ‘Please, Nurse Duffield? I know you’re a good, kind-hearted person, and I know you want to do the right thing. I wouldn’t blame you for a minute if you decided to tell Anna about this. But I’m begging you to give me the chance to prove I can change, that I can be a good man again.’ He looked downcast. ‘My future is in your hands,’ he said.
This particular psychopathy is deep-seated and would take a great deal of time and effort to treat. Always assuming Private Stanning is willing, which I believe is highly unlikely, given that he doesn’t believe there is anything wrong with him …
Grace thought about Anna again, the bright smile that lit up her face when she talked about Edward, about her wedding.
Perhaps he was right, that he only needed a chance. Who was she to take that away from him, to ruin two people’s happiness?
‘It’s getting very late, Private Stanning,’ she said. ‘Let’s get you back to bed, shall we?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
New Year’s Eve was a dark, depressing day. Wet sleet fell sullenly from a dirty yellowish-grey sky, turning to sloppy slush on the pavements.
But Anna was determined not to allow the miserable we
ather to dampen her spirits. This was her wedding day and nothing was going to spoil it.
Not even her sister, she thought. She looked at Liesel’s reflection in the mirror as she stood behind her at the dressing table, pinning up her hair.
‘I really don’t know why I’m bothering with this,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘We’ll look like drowned rats by the time we get to the register office.’
‘It’s only round the corner.’
‘But this weather.’ Liesel looked mournfully at her dainty kid-leather shoes. ‘I wish you could have organised a taxi or something.’
‘All right, we’ll get a taxi!’ Anna said. ‘Now will you stop moaning and let me enjoy my day?’
Liesel retreated into sulky silence. She had been in one of her moods since she had arrived that morning.
The first thing she had said was, ‘I can’t stay long, you know. They’re expecting me back for tea.’
‘That’s a shame,’ Anna had said.
‘Well, if you will get married at short notice … Anyway, it’s not as if there’s a proper reception, is there?’ she’d added pointedly.
As far as Liesel was concerned, the whole wedding was a mess. It was not just the lack of wedding cars or a reception with music and dancing. She was horrified that there were no flowers or a wedding dress, and that Anna had chosen to marry in Bethnal Green register office and not a proper church.
‘I don’t know what Papa would say about it.’
‘Yes, well, Papa isn’t here, is he?’ Anna had snapped. She didn’t need reminding that her parents couldn’t be there to see her wed. It hurt her deeply every time she thought about it. Like every other young girl, Anna had always dreamed of her father walking her down the aisle.
Liesel finished doing her hair and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Anna’s fine dark hair was hardly her best feature, but her sister had dressed it beautifully, twisting it up into a knot that showed off Anna’s slender neck. Loose tendrils framed her narrow face.
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