‘You look a picture, Miss Anna,’ Mrs Church sighed. They had shut up the shop at lunchtime because of the wedding, but Mrs Church had stayed behind to help Anna get ready. ‘And that costume really suits you.’
‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Anna ignored her sister’s scowling look. The neat skirt and jacket she had borrowed from Dulcie Moore looked quite good on her once she had taken it in at the waist. The rich crimson colour brought out the warm reddish glimmer in her brown hair.
‘It’s not a wedding dress though, is it?’ Liesel said.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Anna turned on her sister, fragile nerves snapping. ‘I know this is not the wedding you would have chosen, but it’ll do for me, all right? I don’t care about churches and flowers. All that matters is that I’m marrying the man I love. And that’s far more important to me than a white wedding dress!’
Liesel stared back at her, and for a moment Anna thought she saw a glint of amusement in her sister’s eyes.
‘So I daresay you won’t be wanting this then, will you?’ she said, reaching down to the carpet bag at her feet. Anna watched as she produced a large parcel wrapped in brown paper.
‘What is it?’
‘You’d best open it and find out.’
Anna noticed the smiling glance that passed between her sister and Mrs Church as she carefully undid the parcel. Her fingers were trembling so much she could scarcely unfasten the knotted string.
She pulled aside the brown paper and caught sight of a shimmer of delicate, lace-trimmed ivory satin, and her heart leaped.
She looked up at Liesel. ‘I – I don’t understand?’
‘Don’t get too excited, it isn’t new,’ Liesel said. ‘One of the Land Girls got married a few weeks ago, and I asked if I could borrow her dress. I’ll be on pigsty cleaning duties until Easter,’ she grimaced, ‘but I daresay it will be worth it.’
‘Oh, Liesel!’ Anna launched herself into her sister’s arms, nearly knocking her off her feet.
‘Steady on. You don’t even know if it’ll fit you yet. The other girl had a lot more curves than you. You’re as flat as a board.’
Typical Liesel, Anna thought. She couldn’t even do something nice without lacing it with a touch of spite. But Anna was so overcome with happiness her sister’s insult barely touched her.
‘It’ll be perfect,’ she declared.
And it was, after a bit of tucking and padding. Anna could scarcely drag her eyes from her reflection as she stared in the mirror.
‘You look beautiful, Miss Anna, you really do.’ Mrs Church fumbled for a handkerchief before remembering she had used it to pad out Anna’s bodice.
‘Now you’ve got something old, something new and something borrowed. But you don’t have anything blue …’ Liesel looked around.
‘What about this?’
Anna went to her jewellery box and retrieved the enamelled bluebell brooch Tom had sent her.
‘Let me try it.’ Liesel pinned it in place, then stepped back again. ‘Yes, that looks perfect.’
Anna was glad Liesel had persuaded her to take a taxi to the register office. Heavy splotches of sleet splashed against the steamy car windows, blurring the cold, grey world outside. The streets were deserted and miserable. Even the stallholders on Columbia Road had given up and gone home.
‘It’s a shame the sun isn’t shining,’ she sighed.
‘That’s what happens if you decide to get married in the middle of winter.’
Anna looked at her sister’s profile. Liesel’s face was expressionless as she fiddled with the lace trim of her gloves. She had opted for a dress in pale ice blue, topped with a fur stole. After her kindness over the wedding dress, she had reverted to being sullen about the rest of the arrangements.
Anna looked away, clearing a patch in the misted glass to peer out. She refused to allow Liesel’s sulky mood to spoil her day.
They reached the register office and Anna started to get out, but Liesel didn’t move.
Anna looked back at her. ‘Are you coming?’
Liesel stared down at her hands, fidgeting at a loose thread in her lace gloves. ‘Are you sure about this?’ she asked.
It was such a ridiculous question, Anna couldn’t help but laugh. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m worried, that’s all.’ Liesel turned wide blue eyes to meet Anna’s. ‘Edward has just come out of hospital.’
‘I know that.’
‘How do you know he’s – you know – well enough to get married?’
‘He’s fine. The doctor says his chest is getting better every day.’
Liesel looked back down at her gloves, plucking at the thread. ‘I don’t want you to feel as if you’ve got to rush into anything. You could wait a while.’
‘I’ve already waited for years.’
‘Yes, I know, but …’
‘Liesel, I’m not being rushed into anything. It was my idea to get married, not Edward’s. This is what I want.’
‘It’s not what Papa and Mother would want for you,’ Liesel said quietly.
Anna glared at her. ‘I’m sure they would want me to be happy.’
‘And are you?’ Liesel darted a glance at her.
Anna looked out at the grim, grey street.
‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘Yes, I’m very happy. Now hurry up, or there won’t be a wedding!’
Edward was waiting for her, sheltering in the porch. He looked quite frail, Anna thought with a pang. He was thinner than he used to be, and his face had the ashen pallor of someone who had spent weeks indoors.
‘No best man,’ Liesel observed, as she followed her sister out of the taxi. ‘Isn’t it funny how he doesn’t have any family or friends?’
‘He’s an orphan,’ Anna reminded her. ‘And I daresay all his friends are away fighting.’ She hurried to meet Edward before Liesel could make another comment.
He grinned with relief when he saw her.
‘Thank the Lord! I thought you’d changed your mind?’
Anna glanced at Liesel. ‘Never,’ she said.
He held her at arms’ length, taking in her appearance. ‘You look beautiful.’
‘And you look very smart.’ Anna looked him up and down. ‘But I thought you might wear your uniform?’
‘No fear!’ Edward shook his head. ‘I spent four years wearing it, I don’t intend to wear it on my wedding day.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Besides, this is the start of my new life.’
‘Our new lives,’ Anna reminded him with a smile.
‘Our new lives.’ He offered her his arm. ‘Shall we go?’ he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
‘Wasn’t it a beautiful wedding?’ Miriam Trott sighed, as they sat in a café later, discussing it over tea and scones.
‘I thought it was a bit disappointing, myself.’ Dulcie helped herself to another cup of tea from the china pot. ‘You won’t catch me getting married in a poky register office wearing a borrowed dress.’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Miriam sneered. ‘You want a grand society wedding, don’t you?’ She rolled her eyes at Grace.
‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Dulcie said.
‘You’ll have to find someone to marry you first.’
‘I bet I find someone before you do!’
It was a spiteful comment, but Miriam deserved it. Dulcie waited for Grace to say something, to tell her off for being mean. But Grace was silent as she stirred her spoon around her cup.
Come to think of it, she had barely spoken a word since the wedding, Dulcie thought.
‘I don’t think it matters what kind of wedding you have,’ Sylvia Saunders piped up. ‘I’d marry Roger anywhere, so long as it meant we were together. But that’s what true love is all about, isn’t it?’ She sent Dulcie a meaningful look.
‘I agree,’ Miriam said. ‘Isn’t it wonderful to see two people so happy and in love?’ she sighed. ‘You can see how much they adore each other.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Ma
ry Finnegan put in. ‘Edward Stanning is a very handsome man.’
‘Yes, Anna Beck is a lucky girl.’ Miriam’s eyes gleamed. ‘Can you imagine, waking up to a man like that?’
Grace knocked over her cup with a clatter, making them jump. They all stared in horror at the brown tea stain spreading over the snowy white linen tablecloth.
‘Honestly, Duffield, do you have to be so clumsy all the time!’ Miriam Trott snapped.
‘Typical Duffer! We can’t take you anywhere!’ Mary Finnegan laughed.
‘Let’s get this mess cleared up.’ Sylvia snatched up a napkin and began dabbing the stain.
Usually Grace would have been in there too, blushing like mad and stammering apologies while she tried to help, her long limbs and pointed elbows getting in everyone’s way.
But this time she didn’t move. She sat watching them, a dazed frown on her face. It wasn’t until Miriam snapped at her that she finally galvanised herself and grabbed a napkin.
There was definitely something on her mind, Dulcie thought. But she didn’t think any more of it until much later that evening, when they were walking from Walford House to the hospital building together to begin their respective night duties.
‘Typical,’ Dulcie moaned. ‘New Year’s Eve and I’m working. I swear Miss Sutton does it on purpose, just to spite me.’
Grace said nothing. She plodded next to Dulcie, her head down.
‘I bet they’ll be having a party in the Students’ Union bar,’ Dulcie went on. ‘I know a lot of the doctors go. Perhaps Dr Logan will be there?’ Although she couldn’t imagine it. Robert Logan was proving to be annoyingly anti-social. He hadn’t turned up to the Christmas show, or any of the festive parties and get-togethers that follow it.
At least it meant none of the other nurses had had a chance to get their claws into him, but neither had Dulcie.
Perhaps all that would change tonight? Perhaps he would turn up to a New Year’s Eve party, and when midnight struck some nurse would seize her chance to grab him for a kiss …
Please God, don’t let it be Miriam Trott, Dulcie thought.
‘I hate night duty,’ she muttered.
‘So do I.’
Dulcie glanced at Grace in surprise. It wasn’t like her to complain about anything.
‘I’m not surprised,’ she said. ‘The shell shock ward gives me the creeps during the day, I certainly wouldn’t fancy being alone with them after dark. I mean, they’re so deluded they could do anything, couldn’t they? Especially in the dead of night.’ A thought struck her. ‘What if they mistook you for a German spy creeping around their beds in the dark? You could be minding your own business and suddenly—’
‘Don’t!’
The forcefulness with which Grace spoke stopped Dulcie in mid-sentence.
‘I was only joking,’ she said.
‘Well, don’t. I don’t want to hear it.’
Dulcie sent Grace a sidelong look. Her friend’s expression was more troubled than she had ever seen it.
‘Duffield, has something happened?’ she asked.
‘No. No, of course not.’
‘Are you sure? You can tell me.’
‘There’s nothing to tell. Now just shut up about it, all right?’
Grace strode on ahead of her, her cape pulled tightly around her shoulders. Dulcie stared at her in astonishment. She wasn’t sure she had ever heard Grace Duffield raise her voice before.
Fortunately, it looked like being a quiet night on Monaghan ward. Dulcie knew there was plenty she could be getting on with, like making splints and mending worn bed sheets and packing the sterilising drum ready for the morning. But then two of the medical students arrived and so she decided to have a cup of tea in the kitchen with them instead.
‘It’s a pity you can’t come to our party,’ one of them, Henry Davies, said. ‘We’re going to have a riot in the Students’ Union bar.’
‘If it’s anything like last year, I’m sure you are.’ The previous year a few of the students had decided to strip to their underwear and dance in the hospital courtyard on the stroke of midnight. All the nurses had found it hilarious, until Matron appeared in her nightgown and gave them a piece of her mind. Watching her frog-marching the students to the dean’s office, still half naked, was one of the funniest things Dulcie had ever seen.
‘It won’t be the same without you there.’ The other student, James Dillon, gazed at her with soulful brown eyes.
He had already told Dulcie several times that he was in love with her. He was very handsome, and his father owned a munitions factory. But James was barely twenty, far too young for her. Fun to flirt with, Dulcie had decided, but hardly a serious marriage prospect.
‘Perhaps I could come back at midnight, and we could have a party of our own?’ he suggested in a low voice.
Dulcie stared at him. Those deep brown eyes and declarations of undying love did not fool her for a minute. She knew exactly what James Dillon was after.
‘I shall be far too busy,’ she dismissed.
‘Oh, go on. It’ll be fun.’
‘I told you, I—’
A roar erupted, ripping through the silence of the ward.
Henry turned pale. ‘My God, what was that?’ he cried. But Dulcie was already through the kitchen door.
She reached Sam’s bedside, the two students at her heels.
‘No, I won’t. You can’t make me!’ He lay rigid in the bed, as if pinned down by invisible hands. He strained against them, the muscles and sinews in his neck, arms and shoulders taut with effort. ‘Christopher, run for your life!’ he roared. ‘Run, boy!’
‘Wake up, old man.’ Henry put out a hand to shake him.
‘No, don’t—’ Dulcie started to say, but she was too late. Sam’s eyes snapped open, and a split second later he had Henry round the throat. The student gasped and choked, toes scrabbling uselessly on the polished floor.
‘Let him go, you fool!’ James Dillon fought to prise apart Sam’s iron grip.
‘Sergeant Trevelyan? Sam?’ Dulcie cried out desperately.
The sound of her voice seemed to get through to him. Sam blinked, the life returning to his eyes. He looked at Henry, dangling like a puppet, and abruptly released his grasp. Henry collapsed, coughing and fighting for breath.
‘My God, man, you could have killed him!’ James turned to his friend. ‘Are you all right, Davies?’
‘I – I think so.’ Henry massaged his throat. Even in the dim light, Dulcie could make out the dark marks of Sam’s fingers on his skin. ‘Just a bit of a shock, that’s all.’
‘You shouldn’t have woken him,’ she said.
Sam said nothing. He stared down at his hands, lying on top of the bed cover.
‘She’s right,’ Henry said, in a croaking voice. ‘It was a damn fool thing to do, grabbing him like that.’ He turned to Sam. ‘How are you feeling, Sergeant?’
‘Better than you, I daresay,’ James spoke for him. He looked at Dulcie. ‘Shall I give him something to make him sleep?’
‘No.’ Sam’s voice was a low growl.
James ignored him, still looking at Dulcie. ‘Nurse?’
Dulcie glanced at Sam, then shook her head.
‘Are you quite sure?’ the student said. ‘I don’t like to think of you alone with him. What if he has another nightmare?’
‘I’ll manage,’ Dulcie said.
‘But all the same …’
‘You heard her.’
James shot Sam a look of dislike.
‘I’ll come back later,’ he said. ‘Just to make sure you’re all right.’
By the time the students left, Sam Trevelyan was already half asleep. Dulcie was about to go back to her desk but then she changed her mind and went to the kitchen. She made two cups of tea and brought them back to Sam’s bedside.
‘Here,’ she said, placing one on his bedside locker.
‘I’m asleep,’ he said.
‘You might have fooled Dillon and Davies, but you can�
��t fool me.’ Dulcie sat down in the chair beside his bed.
Sam opened one baleful eye. ‘You don’t have to watch over me,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to go berserk, whatever your friends think.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Dulcie sipped her tea. ‘Once is more than enough.’
He smiled slightly at that.
Encouraged, she said, ‘What were you dreaming about?’
His face took on a closed look. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘You mentioned a name … Christopher?’ She saw him flinch. ‘Who is that?’
‘I told you, I don’t remember anything about it.’ He turned his face away from her. ‘I want to sleep now, if you don’t mind?’
‘But your tea—’
‘I don’t want it.’
‘I’ll leave it here, just in case you change your mind.’ Dulcie stood up. ‘It might help to talk about it, you know,’ she said. Sam said nothing. ‘Dr Logan reckons—’
‘Dr Logan! I might have known you’d listen to him.’
‘Dr Logan says it’s harmful to shut difficult memories away. He thinks we should get them out in the open, talk about them. It can’t do any harm to try, can it?’ she said. ‘And you never know, it might help.’
Sam opened his eyes, and Dulcie was shocked by the depth of anguish and despair she saw in them.
‘You wouldn’t want to hear what I’ve got to say, Nurse. Believe me,’ he said hoarsely.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Anna’s hands shook as she took out the pins from her hair and let it fall about her face. Outside, the clock was striking midnight, hailing in the year 1918. She could hear the shouts and laughter of revellers spilling out of the Angel and Crown. From the sound of it, the party seemed to be continuing on the street.
Anna sat still, listening for Edward’s voice. When she had left him there an hour ago, he had been sinking pints at the bar with Mr Hudson and Mr Wheeler.
She hadn’t expected them to spend all night in the pub, but Mr Hudson and the other men insisted on buying Edward one drink after another.
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