‘No one could ever do that,’ Anna said.
‘I know.’ Edward’s mouth curved into the smallest of smiles. ‘I suppose deep in my heart I always knew you weren’t that kind of girl. But over there – well, your mind starts to play tricks on you. The day Tom Franklin got called up was a great relief to me, I can tell you.’
Anna had a sudden picture of herself saying goodbye to Tom at the station three years earlier, the look of wonder and disbelief on his face when he realised she had come to wave him off. He had no one else in the world who cared enough to see him go to war.
‘And then I found out about the letters.’ Edward’s expression was bleak. ‘Can’t you try to imagine how I felt?’ he pleaded with her. ‘It was as if all my worst fears had come true, that you had feelings for him after all …’
‘I felt sorry for him, that’s all.’ But even as she said it, Anna knew it wasn’t true. What had started out as a gesture of pity had turned into a warm friendship. She wanted to be completely honest with Edward, but she felt wary of his rage.
‘I know that now. I let my jealousy get the better of me, and I was cruel to you.’ His voice faltered. ‘I was hoping you might find it in your heart to forgive me, that we could make a new start this morning, pretend it had never happened. But I know now that’s too much to ask. I could see it in your eyes when you looked at me this morning. I was a fool to think you could forget something like that. How can I expect you to forgive me when I can’t forgive myself?’ He dropped his gaze. ‘I’ve ruined everything, and I’m deeply sorry. If you want me to leave, I’ll understand …’
‘No.’ The word was out before she had even had a chance to think about it. Edward looked up, his blue eyes full of hope.
‘I’m still angry with you,’ she said. ‘You hurt me, and you frightened me, and it will take a long time to put that behind me. But – I want to try,’ she went on. ‘I understand this must have been a lot for you, coming out of the army and getting married and moving back here. You need time and patience while you get used to it all.’
She thought about all the soldiers on the ward, their outbursts of temper and frustration as they slowly and painfully tried to adjust to their new lives.
She looked up at him. ‘I want to make this marriage work, Edward. If you do?’
‘Oh, Anna!’
Edward took a step towards her, but she backed away sharply. He stopped, crestfallen, his hands falling to his sides.
‘Sweetheart, I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I just want to love you, that’s all. I’ll never hurt you again, I swear.’
Anna looked into his face and saw the tender sorrow in his eyes.
‘I’m scared,’ she whispered.
‘I know, darling. But let me try again, please. It will be better this time, I promise.’
And it was. Anna was nervous as Edward led her upstairs to the bedroom. But this time he was different. He undressed her carefully, as if she was a delicate piece of china, trailing feathery kisses on her bare skin. His lips and fingers worked with infinite loving gentleness, so that by the time he laid her on the bed, Anna was trembling with anticipation and longing instead of fear.
Afterwards, she lay in his arms, her head resting against his broad, muscular chest. Her fingers traced the scars of the gas burns as she breathed in the clean soapy smell of him. Outside, dawn was breaking and the street was coming to life, the steady clopping of horses’ hooves and the squeak of cart wheels mingling with the sound of Mrs Hudson berating Mr Hudson as he opened up the shop.
This was what it should be like, she thought. Her and Edward together, just as she had always dreamed they would be.
‘You do love me, don’t you?’ Edward said suddenly.
Anna raised her head to look at him, surprised by the question. ‘Of course.’
‘I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.’
Anna saw the look in his eyes and realised with a shock how insecure he was, even now.
‘Lucky you don’t have to worry about it, then, isn’t it?’ she said, laying her head against his chest again. His heart beat steadily under her ear.
He curled his arm tighter around her, holding her close. ‘And to think how close I came to losing you, all because of my stupid jealousy,’ he said. ‘I mean, what does it really matter if you write to another man? You’re still mine, aren’t you?’
Anna hesitated, then said, ‘I won’t write to Tom again if you don’t want me to.’
She felt him turn his head to look at her. ‘Do you mean that?’
‘I’ve been thinking about it, and you’re right. I shouldn’t really be writing to other men now I’m married.’ She reached for Edward’s hand, pressing it against her own. His long fingers wrapped tightly around hers.
Even as she said the words, she felt her heart sink slightly in her chest. But it was the right thing to do, she told herself. Edward was her husband now, and she had to make him happy.
‘I’ll write to him this morning and tell him,’ she said.
‘Why can’t you just stop writing?’ There was an edge of impatience in Edward’s voice.
‘That wouldn’t be fair. I need to explain, or he’ll wonder what’s happened to me.’
She felt his hand tense against hers, and for a moment Anna thought he might argue. But then he said, ‘As you wish, my love.’ He rolled over on to his side, propping himself up on his elbow to smile down at her. ‘You can tell him to find himself another girl to write to, because you’re taken. You’re mine now. All mine.’
Anna flinched for a second as he bent his head to kiss her, but this time his lips were gentle against hers.
It will all be all right, she told herself. From now on, everything will be perfect, just as it should be.
As Edward moved on top of her, his weight pressing down, a flash of colour on the other side of the room caught her eye. It was a scrap of red ribbon, dangling from the fire grate.
CHAPTER THIRTY
‘You did what?’
‘I wrote to your family.’ Dulcie didn’t meet Sam’s eyes as she straightened his bedclothes. ‘It was the right thing to do,’ she went on quickly. ‘They deserved to know where you are and what’s happened to you. It seemed so unfair not to tell them …’ she gabbled on, not daring to look up. ‘And I was right, your mother was so grateful. I’ve got her letter here, if you want to read it?’
She took it out of her apron pocket and proffered it to him. Sam ignored it.
‘You had no right,’ he said, his voice soft with menace.
‘I’ll put it here, in case you want to read it later.’ Dulcie placed the letter down on his bedside locker.
‘I won’t.’
‘You might.’ She hesitated for a moment, looking at the letter. ‘Your mother says she can’t wait to see you.’
‘I don’t want to see her,’ he cut her off bluntly.
‘But—’
‘I mean it. You can write back and tell her that.’
Dulcie kept her head down, tucking in a corner of the bedclothes. ‘It might be a bit late for that,’ she said. ‘She’s on her way.’
Sam sat up straighter. ‘My mother’s coming here?’
Dulcie risked a glance at him. ‘Not just your mother,’ she said. ‘She’s bringing your children too.’
He stared at her. His face was impassive, but she could see a myriad emotions reflected in his green eyes.
‘What have you done?’ he murmured at last.
‘They’re your family.’
‘You had no right to interfere!’ He turned on her savagely, his voice rising. ‘For God’s sake, it’s not as if you even really care.’
‘Shhh!’ Dulcie glanced around the ward nervously. ‘Stop shouting, or you’ll get me in trouble.’
‘Get you in trouble?’ He stared at her, his eyes black with anger. ‘Christ, do you ever stop and listen to yourself, you stupid, stupid girl?’
‘What’s going on here?’ Dulcie’s heart sank as Staf
f Nurse Hanley bustled over. ‘What’s all this noise about, Nurse?’
‘Nothing, Staff.’
‘Well, it didn’t sound like it to me.’ Nurse Hanley turned to Sam. ‘Sergeant Trevelyan, perhaps you’d like to tell me why you were shouting?’
Sam stared back at her, tight-lipped and silent.
Nurse Hanley sighed. ‘Very well, if neither of you wishes to speak … Nurse Moore, please come with me. There are some linens in the store room that need counting. That should keep you out of trouble,’ she muttered.
As she followed Staff Nurse Hanley up the ward, Dulcie took a quick glance over her shoulder. Sam’s face was buried in his hands, his broad shoulders slumped in utter despair.
For the first time, it began to dawn on her that she might have been too hasty.
She stayed out of his way most of the morning. But as noon approached, she knew she would have to speak to him again. The visitors would be arriving at two o’clock that afternoon, his mother and children among them.
She got her chance just before lunch. Staff Nurse Hanley was taking her break, and Sister was doing bed seven’s abdominal drainage behind the screens, assisted by Miriam Trott.
Dulcie crept over to Sam Trevelyan’s bed. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed, but she could tell he was not asleep.
‘I know you’re upset,’ she started.
‘You don’t know anything.’ Sam kept his eyes closed. ‘As far as I can tell, you don’t give a damn about anyone’s feelings but your own.’
‘That’s not fair!’ Dulcie gasped. ‘I did this for you.’
‘No, you didn’t. You did it for yourself, just like you do everything else.’ He opened his eyes, his face full of contempt. ‘Have you told Sister what you’ve done? Or how about Dr Logan? No point in doing a good deed if you don’t get noticed for it, is there? So why don’t you just run off and tell them? With any luck they’ll transfer you to the shell shock ward and we’ll all be better off!’
Dulcie stared at him, shocked by his bitterness. ‘Is that what you really think?’
‘It’s the truth, isn’t it?’
She was silent. He had a point, of course. Dulcie did usually have her own interests at heart. But to hear it exposed brutally like that … Was she really so calculating?
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she said. ‘But I still think it would do you good to see your family again. You might not feel like it now,’ she pressed on, as Sam opened his mouth to speak. ‘But just imagine what it will be like to hold your children again.’
‘You still don’t understand, do you?’ he cut her off, his face bleak. ‘I don’t want to hold my children again. I don’t want to see them!’
‘Why not?’ Dulcie looked down at his chest. ‘Is it that you’re worried your wound will distress them? Because if that’s it, I can—’
‘It’s nothing to do with the bloody wound!’
‘What, then? What’s so bad that it’s keeping you from seeing your own children?’
‘None of your business,’ he bit out.
‘But I want to know. Don’t you love your children?’
He flashed her a look of pure dislike. ‘Of course I love them!
‘Then why don’t you want to see them?’
For a moment he said nothing, his mouth a tight line. Then, quietly, he said, ‘Because I’m—’
‘What?’ Dulcie prompted.
He turned to look at her, and she saw the depth of sorrow in his eyes.
‘Because I’m too ashamed,’ he said.
It was the last thing she had been expecting him to say. The words hung in the silence between them.
‘Ashamed? You? But – but why? You’re a hero, you earned a medal.’
‘I followed orders and they gave me a piece of tin,’ he snarled. ‘What does that matter, compared to …’ He stopped.
‘Compared to what?’
Sam looked away. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘I’d like to try.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
She recognised the stubborn lift of his chin. If Sam Trevelyan really did not want to speak then wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of him.
‘You’d rather just have nightmares about it instead?’
His mouth curled. ‘So you’re a psychiatrist now, are you? Have you been taking lessons from your friend Dr Logan?’
‘I don’t have to be a psychiatrist to know you’ve got a secret,’ Dulcie said. ‘And I also know if you don’t let it out, it’s going to poison everything.’
‘Too late for that,’ he muttered.
‘It doesn’t have to be. You can still have a life, Sergeant Trevelyan. You can get out of here, and go back to your family, and be surrounded by people who love you.’
‘Even if I don’t deserve it?’
Dulcie sank down on the chair beside his bed. She knew she would get an earful from Miss Sutton if she were caught sitting down on duty, but she didn’t care. At that moment it seemed there were bigger matters to worry about.
‘What makes you say that?’ she asked. ‘What did you do that was so bad you can’t face your family, Sergeant?’
He was silent for a long time. Dulcie was just about to give up when he murmured something under his breath.
She leaned forward. ‘What did you say?’
He turned to look at her, his pupils so wide they turned his green eyes black.
‘I said, I killed a man,’ he said quietly.
For a moment she wondered if she had misheard him again.
She searched for the right words. ‘All the men on this ward have killed someone, Sergeant. It’s awful, but it’s the war, isn’t it?’
He sent her an almost pitying look. ‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘This wasn’t some German in No Man’s Land. This was one of our own.’
‘He was only a kid. Sixteen years old, only four years older than my son. He lied about his age because he wanted to fight for his country.’
Sam spoke in a flat voice. He didn’t look at Dulcie, but stared instead into space, as if he was describing a scene that was playing out in front of him.
‘Trouble is, he didn’t know what he was signing up for. No one did. You can’t make people understand if they weren’t there. You can describe the trenches knee-deep in water and running with rats, and the cold, and the noise of the shells, and the stink of dead bodies heaped up and rotting because no one has time or a place to bury them. But until you’ve lived through it …’ He shook his head. ‘It was too much for anyone, and too much for this lad. He’d just watched his best pal die, you see. Right next to him. One minute they were sharing a cigarette, the next a shell hit and this lad was picking bits of his mate’s skull off his gas cape. And that wasn’t even unusual, it happened all the time …’
He stopped for a moment, and Dulcie could see him struggling to gather himself.
‘Anyway, this boy took fright. When we got our orders from down the line, he decided to make a run for it instead. He went into hiding, down in the sappers’ tunnels. But they found him and brought him back.’
He turned to Dulcie for the first time. ‘I couldn’t blame him,’ he said. ‘When you get the orders to go over, you know that’s probably it for you. You hear that whistle blow, and you know you have to scramble up that ladder and fight your way through the mud and barbed wire. And then you have to walk – actually walk – into the artillery fire, with shells exploding all around. No wonder half the men in here are doolally. And they’re the lucky ones!’
He lit a cigarette and held it between his lips.
‘What happened to the boy?’ Dulcie asked.
‘He was court martialled. Sentenced to death, just like all the other deserters.’ Sam blew a steady stream of smoke up into the air. ‘Death by firing squad.’
‘And you were the one who had to shoot him?’
‘Me and a couple of others. Early in the morning, they dragged him out. His knees were knocking so much he could har
dly stand up, poor kid. He was sobbing the whole time, crying for his mother. That was the last thing I saw as I raised my rifle, the tears running down his face.’ He drew hard on his cigarette. ‘I wish to God they’d never caught the poor little sod,’ he said in a low, angry voice.
Christopher, run for your life. Run, boy …
‘You were only following orders,’ Dulcie said.
‘And that makes it all right, does it?’
‘No, but—’
‘No,’ he cut her off bluntly. ‘No, it doesn’t.’ He puffed angrily on his cigarette. ‘I kept thinking about his mother and how she would feel when she got the letter saying her son was dead. Dead because of me.’ He ground out his cigarette in the ashtray, forcing it down until the stub was nothing. ‘You say it was only orders, but I was the one who pulled the trigger. I was the one who saw his face …’
Dulcie thought about his medal. For bravery in the field.
‘Is that why you saved all those men from No Man’s Land?’ she asked. ‘Because you wanted to make up for what you’d done?’
His mouth twisted. ‘You really do fancy yourself as a psychiatrist, don’t you?’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but there was nothing noble about what I did that day. The reason I kept going back, again and again, wasn’t because I wanted to save lives. It was because I wanted to die. That was why I stood in that field and let all those shells explode around me. I wanted one to hit me, to end it all. Typical, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘All those poor devils wanting to live but getting blown to pieces, and then there’s me …’ He looked disgusted.
‘You didn’t deserve to die.’
‘Neither did that boy.’
For a moment their gazes met and held. Then Sister emerged from behind the screens around bed seven, breaking the spell, and Dulcie shot automatically to her feet.
‘I’d better get on,’ she murmured.
‘You do that.’ He wasn’t looking at her anymore.
As Dulcie turned to go, she remembered something.
‘Was his name Christopher?’ she asked.
He frowned. ‘Why do you ask?’
Nightingale Wedding Bells Page 19
