‘That was the name you shouted in your sleep. You were telling him to run.’
Sam was silent for a while. Then he said, ‘His name was Gerrard. Private Malcolm Gerrard.’
‘Then who—’
He looked at her, his green eyes dark with anguish. ‘Christopher is my son’s name,’ he said quietly.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
As two o’clock crept closer, Dulcie began to doubt herself more and more.
Sam Trevelyan looked sick with fear, and she felt sick too. She found it even harder than usual to concentrate on her work, and several times Staff Nurse Hanley had to take her to task about her ‘daydreaming’.
‘Sister wants you to prepare a cotton jacket for the pneumonia patient in room two,’ she said. ‘The doctor will be back to see him shortly.’
Dulcie glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to two.
‘Can’t one of the VADs do it?’ She said the words without thinking.
‘I beg your pardon, Nurse?’ Veronica Hanley blinked at her.
‘Sorry, Staff. I – I just wanted to be on the ward when the visitors arrived.’
‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Nurse Moore. I’ll ask Nurse Trott to do it instead, shall I?’ Staff Nurse Hanley’s broad face was mottled red with suppressed fury. ‘I know you think everyone and everything was put on this earth for your convenience, girl, but I’m afraid that is not how we do things on this ward. If Sister wants you to prepare a cotton jacket, then that is what you must do. And be glad she hasn’t got you scrubbing the toilets!’ she added.
‘Yes, Staff.’
Dulcie retreated to room two, one of the private rooms adjoining the main ward. The patient was young, an officer in his early twenties, but he gasped and wheezed like an old man. His body was emaciated, muscles wasted to nothing, and when he fought for breath Dulcie could see the rapid rise and fall of his ribcage clearly outlined through his translucent skin.
She got to work, spreading the rolls of absorbent cotton around his sunken chest and back, then fitting the flannel into place over it. It took all the young man’s efforts to breathe, let alone talk, so she was able to allow her thoughts to wander back to Sam.
It would be visiting time soon. The families would be gathering outside the double doors, eager with anticipation to see their loved ones. And then the bell would ring, and one of the VADs would open the doors, and then …
‘Nurse?’
Dulcie looked up sharply, surprised to see Dr Logan standing behind her.
‘I’m sorry, Doctor, I didn’t hear you come in.’ She started to her feet, but he gestured for her to carry on.
Please, don’t let me disturb you.’
‘Thank you, Doctor.’
Dulcie went back to her stitching, but it wasn’t long before her thoughts strayed to Sam again.
What if she had got it wrong? She had been so sure of herself when she wrote to his mother, but now she could see she’d had no right to interfere. Sam had made a choice for himself; she should have respected that.
Now he had to face the consequences, all because of her.
‘Isn’t that stitching rather tight, Nurse?’
Dulcie looked up, surprised that Dr Logan was still in the room. It was the oddest thing – usually she was very aware of him when he was near her.
‘It’s not a straitjacket, Nurse. And Captain Waterford has enough trouble breathing, don’t you think?’ Dr Logan looked rueful.
Dulcie stared down at the needle in her hand. ‘Sorry, Doctor. I wasn’t paying attention.’
She started to unpick the stitches, her thoughts straying straight back to Sam.
What if he refused to see them? What if he turned them away, after they had come all the way up from Cornwall? Surely he wouldn’t be so cruel …
Two o’clock struck and Dulcie was so nervous she jumped, pricking herself with the needle. She let out a yelp of pain.
‘Are you all right, Nurse?’ Dr Logan was staring at her. Even Captain Waterford turned his sunken eyes to meet hers.
‘Yes. Yes, I’m sorry.’ Dulcie sucked the end of her finger. Dr Logan’s brows rose, but he said nothing.
She quickly finished fitting Captain Waterford’s cotton jacket, then waited while Dr Logan examined him. All the while her gaze kept straying up to the clock on the wall.
Finally, Dr Logan finished writing up his notes and they were about to leave. Dulcie prayed he wouldn’t ask her to make up an ice pack or anything. She wasn’t sure her nerves could stand it.
As they left the patient’s room, Dr Logan said, ‘Do you have another appointment, Nurse?’
Dulcie looked round at him, startled. ‘No, Sir.’
‘It’s just you kept looking at the clock. I wondered if there was somewhere you needed to go?’
Dulcie blushed. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor. Sam – Sergeant Trevelyan – is expecting a visitor today, and I’m rather worried about it.’
‘Worried? Why?’
Heat scalded her face. ‘Because I organised it, Sir.’
Dulcie explained what she had done. Dr Logan listened in his usual careful way, his head bowed.
‘And you say Sergeant Trevelyan didn’t want this visit to happen?’
‘No, Sir. But I thought it would do him good. I did ask you for your advice,’ Dulcie reminded him.
‘Good Lord. Did you?’ Dr Logan looked startled. ‘And what did I say?’
‘You seemed to think it was a good idea.’ She looked up at his grave expression. ‘It won’t do any harm, will it, Sir?’
Dr Logan shook his head. ‘Time will tell, Nurse,’ he said. But he didn’t look very convinced.
So much for trying to impress him, Dulcie thought as she watched him striding away down the ward. She had been so preoccupied she had even forgotten to flirt with him.
There was no sign of Sam or his family when she returned to the ward. Dulcie was still staring at his empty bed when Nurse Hanley bustled up in a flurry of crackling starched linen.
‘There’s an amputation coming up from surgery,’ she announced. ‘Fetch Nurse Trott and make up bed eight, please.’
‘Where is Sergeant Trevelyan?’ Dulcie asked.
Nurse Hanley’s face twitched with displeasure. ‘Really, Nurse, I do wish you would stop answering all my instructions with a question,’ she snapped. Then she added, ‘As far as I am aware, Sergeant Trevelyan is on the terrace with his family.’
‘On the terrace? But he never goes outside!’
She saw she had said the wrong thing when Staff’s brows rose. ‘I didn’t realise you were such an expert on Sergeant Trevelyan,’ she said. ‘Why are you so fascinated by him, Nurse?’
‘I’m not, Staff. I – I was just curious, that’s all.’
‘Well, kindly stop being curious and get on with your work.’
‘Yes, Staff.’
She was aware of Nurse Hanley’s gaze following her as she made her way down the ward towards the linen store. As she passed the French doors leading out to the terrace, she could see several men and their families sitting outside. She didn’t dare stop to look because Veronica Hanley was still watching her keenly from the other end of the ward.
Dulcie quickly gathered up sheets and blankets for making up the bed. As she emerged from the linen store, she noticed Nurse Hanley berating a tearful VAD who had managed to drop a cup of tea all over the polished floor. While she was distracted, Dulcie darted to the French doors and peered outside.
It took her a moment to spot Sam among all the other men. He was surrounded by his family, half hidden from her view. He was in a wheelchair, which surprised Dulcie, since he’d always refused one before. His mother sat beside him on a bench, holding his hand. Two children, a boy and a girl, perched on his knees. The little girl had her arms wrapped around his neck, her face pressed into his shoulder. An older boy, tall and upright, stood before them, pointing out something a few feet away. Christopher, she thought.
He was only a kid. Sixteen years old, only
four years older than my son …
‘Nurse Moore?’ Dulcie heard Staff Nurse Hanley’s voice but ignored it, craning her neck to see Sam’s face. He was in profile, so she couldn’t read his expression.
‘Nurse Moore! I hope you’re not daydreaming again?’
Then Christopher must have said something because Sam threw back his head and laughed.
Dulcie stood rooted to the spot, watching him. Then, suddenly, she found she was filled with an absurd burst of happiness. It was all she could do not to laugh, too.
‘Nurse Moore!’
She turned. Nurse Hanley was bearing down on her, face like thunder.
‘Wipe that silly smirk off your face, girl. You won’t be smiling when your name’s in the ward book, I’m sure.’
But Dulcie was still smiling when she went to make up bed eight with Miriam Trott.
‘You look pleased with yourself,’ Miriam commented sourly.
‘I am.’
‘And why is that, may I ask?’
Before Dulcie could answer her, Dr Logan walked over.
‘Well, Nurse, I see your experiment worked.’
Dulcie beamed at him. ‘Yes, Doctor.’
‘Keep up the good work, won’t you?’ As he turned to walk away, Dulcie could have sworn he winked at her.
Miriam Trott looked fit to burst. ‘What was all that about?’
‘I did a good deed.’ Dulcie explained about writing to Sam Trevelyan’s family. Miriam listened, eyes round with astonishment.
‘You?’ she said finally. ‘You actually did that off your own bat?’
‘There’s no need to look so surprised about it,’ Dulcie said defensively.
Miriam laughed. ‘But I am surprised,’ she said. ‘It isn’t like you to think of other people.’
‘Hark at the pot calling the kettle black!’
Miriam ignored her. ‘There must be a reason for it,’ she declared. She thought for a moment, then said, ‘Do you have a soft spot for Sergeant Trevelyan?’
‘No!’
‘Are you sure?’ Miriam eyed her narrowly. ‘You’re blushing.’
‘Don’t be absurd.’ Dulcie busied herself plumping a pillow with unnecessary force. ‘If you must know, he’s a means to an end.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Dulcie gave her a smile that she knew would infuriate her. ‘You’ll see,’ she said.
By four o’clock visiting time was over. The families were all ushered out amidst lots of tears, and the nurses set about getting the ward back into some kind of order.
Dulcie made up her mind that she would not approach Sam. She could tell the visit had gone well, but she was still wary of what he might say to her.
Fortunately, Sister set her to work in the kitchen, preparing supper for the men with the VADs. Usually Dulcie would have balked at the task, but today she was grateful as it meant she could give Sam Trevelyan a wide berth.
But when it was suppertime, Miss Sutton insisted that Dulcie should be the one to serve Sergeant Trevelyan.
Dulcie approached him cautiously. Neither of them spoke as she pulled up the bed tray and placed the plate down in front of him.
Sam stared down at it.
‘Did you help cook this?’ he asked.
‘Yes, why?’
‘I can tell.’ He poked at the grey slab of roast mutton with his fork.
Dulcie caught the amused glint in his eye and relief surged through her. She was forgiven.
‘If you don’t like it, you know what you can do,’ she said shortly.
‘Mend my boots with it?’
‘If you’re going to be rude about it, I’ll take it back.’ She went to whisk the plate away.
‘No, don’t.’ He put out his hand to stop her. For a moment they were both still, staring down at his fingers encircling her bare wrist.
Then, slowly, he took his hand away.
Dulcie cleared her throat. ‘Anyway, you don’t know what pudding is yet!’ she said brightly.
He looked up at her from under lowered brows. ‘Let me guess. Something unrecognisable with custard?’
‘Jam roly-poly, actually.’
‘Oh, God,’ Sam groaned.
‘I’ll be sure to pass your compliments on to Sister.’
As Dulcie was walking away, Sam suddenly said, ‘Thank you.’
She looked over her shoulder at him. ‘For the food?’
‘You know what I mean.’ His eyes met hers, and suddenly Dulcie felt the imprint of his fingers again, warm and strong against her skin.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Once Edward had got up to light the ovens, Anna curled into the space on his side of the bed, still warm from where his body had been a few minutes earlier. She buried her face in the pillow and breathed in his clean, soapy smell.
Downstairs, she could hear him greeting Charlie at the back door, ready to start their day in the kitchen. Usually, Anna would be up and dressed herself by now, gulping down a cup of tea and pulling on her shoes ready to hurry out for another day on the ward. But today was a rare day off, and she looked forward to spending it with her husband.
Her husband. Anna held up her left hand, admiring the faint glint of her wedding band in the dim dawn light. She was Mrs Edward Stanning. Sometimes she had to say the name out loud just to make herself believe it.
Marriage suited her, she decided. After three weeks, she still woke up every morning feeling absurdly happy and content. This was what her life was supposed to be like, she and Edward together at last. It was everything she had ever wanted.
And, Lord knows, she had waited long enough for it. All those years of worrying that Edward wouldn’t come home to her, of reading the casualty lists in the newspapers and fearing the worst. And then those dreadful, empty months after Papa and Mother had gone back to Germany, and Liesel was away and so taken up with Davy that Anna felt as if she didn’t have another soul in the world.
But now she had Edward home again, running the bakery, just as her father would have wanted. And if only Mother and Papa could come home again, her happiness would be utterly complete.
Anna pushed the thought away. She shouldn’t be greedy. At least she had Edward now, and that made her luckier than most. Only the day before, Nurse Pope had found out her fiancé, missing since Cambrai, had finally been declared killed in action. And now the Russians had laid down their arms, the newspapers reckoned the Germans would have even more forces to muster against their boys. Which meant the New Year would probably bring even more tragedy and lives lost.
She turned her face back into the pillow. She wouldn’t think about that, not today. It was going to be a special day. She was looking forward to being back in the kitchen with Edward, working alongside him the way they used to when Papa ran the bakery.
When she arrived there half an hour later, she found Edward and Charlie already hard at work.
‘There’s no need for you to help out, love,’ Edward said as she reached for her apron. ‘Charlie and I have already done most of it. Eh, Charlie?’
He nodded. ‘We have.’
‘You enjoy your day off. You deserve it, after all those hours you put in at the hospital,’ Edward said.
Anna looked at Charlie, watching her slyly from behind Edward’s shoulder. ‘But I want to help.’
‘Listen to her, Charlie. I wouldn’t say no if someone told me to go and put my feet up, would you?’ Edward grinned. ‘A glutton for punishment, that’s what you are.’
Anna looked from one to the other. ‘What am I supposed to do, then?’
‘Whatever you like.’ Edward shrugged. ‘Why don’t you go out? Take yourself up West for the day. You used to like a trip around the shops.’
‘I don’t want to go up West. I want to stay here with you. I’ve been looking forward to us spending the day together,’ Anna protested, but Edward was already ushering her out of the kitchen and down the passageway towards the shop.
‘Tell you what, we’ll go out tog
ether,’ he said. ‘When the shop closes for dinner, we’ll have a walk around the park. Or we could go round to Wheeler’s café for a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich, how about that?’
Anna pouted. ‘I still don’t understand why I can’t help you.’
‘Because you’d be too much of a distraction.’ Edward’s eyes glinted with meaning. ‘Do you really think I’d be able to get anything done with you there? I’d just want to kiss you all the time. Like this …’
He pulled her into his arms for a demonstration. As his tongue plundered her mouth, Anna felt the heat rising, melting her from inside.
She pushed him away, laughing. ‘Edward! Not here!’
‘You see what I mean? We’d make poor Charlie blush.’
‘I reckon it’d take a lot to make Charlie Atkins blush!’ Anna glanced back at the door to the kitchen, now firmly closed. ‘I suppose I could help Mrs Church in the shop,’ she said reluctantly.
‘Like I said, a glutton for punishment!’ Edward rolled his eyes.
‘Unless you think I’d be too much of a distraction for you there, too?’ Anna teased him.
‘You’re a distraction wherever you are.’ Edward wrapped his arms around her waist, scooping her into the air until her face was level with his. Next minute he was kissing her hungrily again, and this time Anna didn’t try to push him away.
They were still locked in a passionate embrace in the passageway, oblivious to everything else, when a voice behind them said, ‘Don’t mind me, I’m sure.’
Anna swung round to see Mrs Church’s thin shape in the doorway to the kitchen, bundled up in a heavy overcoat, a shapeless hat jammed on her head.
‘Charlie thought you might be upstairs,’ she said, looking from one to the other.
‘Another five minutes and we might have been,’ Edward said.
Anna nudged him sharply, glad that the darkness of the shop hid her blushing face.
Mrs Church looked from one to the other, her thin face tightening. ‘You ain’t at work today then,’ she said to Anna.
‘No, I’ve got the day off,’ she said, fighting to stop herself from laughing. She didn’t dare look at Edward behind her, his hands still encircling her waist.
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