Molly knew that she would have to tell Sarah about the baby very soon. It would not be easy to travel home on her own. She needed to make proper arrangements and she knew she could not leave it much longer. Very soon her condition would start to show. She already felt that Sister Marie-Paul was assessing her with suspicious eyes.
She can’t know anything yet, Molly told herself firmly, there is nothing to see.
Molly was right, there was nothing outwardly to show she was expecting. She had had to let her skirt out a couple of inches, and her breasts were fuller, but both these things were concealed by her voluminous apron. She was tired though. As she went about the ward she found herself longing to sit down, and if she did in the ward kitchen or the warmth of the linen cupboard, she dozed off at once, only to wake with a jolt and wonder how long she had been asleep and if anyone had noticed. Sister Marie-Paul would soon, unless she were very careful.
She decided not to tell Sarah until she heard from Tom. If he got the precious leave, then all would be well and it would only be a question of sorting out where they could be married. Each morning she prayed to a God she didn’t really believe in, asking that Tom should be allowed to come to her, and each day that no letter arrived she prayed again. When at last Tom’s letter did come, saying that he had been refused any sort of leave for months to come, Molly had cried for the first time. She read the letter sitting on the lavatory, where she knew she would not be disturbed by anyone, not even Sarah. Tom had done his best, but now he could only offer her his advice.
My darling girl, I think you should confide in Sarah now and begin to make arrangements for your journey home. It’s not what I want, but I am sure in the long run it is best for you. I wish I could come to you straight away and hold you in my arms and tell you everything is going to be all right, but I can’t. Remember that I love you more than life itself.
Look after yourself and our little one. I send my love to you both,
Tom.
Molly sat staring at the letter, the words becoming blurred as the tears coursed unchecked down her cheeks. She was on her own. She told herself she regretted nothing, but the idea of returning home an expectant mother and unmarried, terrified her. The thought of her parents’ home, bleak and cold in the valley, without the warmth of love to temper its coldness, filled her with dread. She knew Tom was right, but she kept putting off the day when she would have to admit to Sarah what had actually happened on the afternoon she had slipped away and Sarah had lied for her. Sarah would be so disappointed in her, and that mattered to Molly. She had always had great respect for Sarah when their relationship had been one of mistress and maid, but over their months together in France, as friends, she had come to love her.
Finally she braced herself and two evenings later she said, as casually as she could, “Sarah, I’ve got something to tell you.”
After her first exclamation of horror, Sarah listened without interruption as Molly poured out what had happened.
“I know he’d come if he could,” Molly repeated weakly as she finished. “He isn’t deserting me, it’s just that he can’t.”
“No,” said Sarah coolly, “I don’t suppose he can. So,” she looked across at Molly, “what are you going to do?”
“I’d like to stay here, if I thought they’d let me,” Molly said.
“Well, they won’t,” Sarah said flatly. “Apart from the fact of your disgrace, you’d be a liability. You wouldn’t be able to help with the nursing. They can’t spare anyone else to look after you and a baby.”
“I’d look after the baby,” Molly said stoutly.
“Of course you would. Even so, I’m sure you’ll have to go home. It would be far better for you both if you go home.” Sarah heaved a sigh and went on, “Oh Molly, how have you come to get into such a scrape? What on earth were you thinking of?”
“I love him,” Molly replied.
“That’s no answer,” snapped Sarah.
“It is to me,” Molly said simply. They fell silent for a while and then Molly said, “I know you don’t understand, Sarah. I can’t explain it to you. All I can tell you is that I don’t regret it for minute. Not the love, not the baby. I am sorry it will be born without its father’s name, but that can’t be helped now. If we’d been able to get married before Tom went back everything would have been different.”
“You couldn’t, Molly. You know you couldn’t. Even now you hardly know him, just through letters.”
“It was all right for your brother to get married quickly when he was on leave, he’s an officer.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in Molly’s tone. “He didn’t have to wait. His wife is expecting too. That’s all right, he’s an officer. She’s an officer’s wife.”
“Oh, come on, Molly,” Sarah said impatiently. “Being an officer has nothing to do with it. You know that. They were on leave. They were both over twenty-one, the circumstances were not the same.”
“So his baby is welcomed and mine is not.”
“Molly, it’s different…” began Sarah.
“Yes,” agreed Molly wearily. “Isn’t it always?”
“Look,” said Sarah, “this isn’t getting us anywhere. What we have to decide now is what we do next. Did Tom say why he was refused leave? I mean, they do give compassionate leave. Why not now?”
“I told you,” Molly said, “there’s going to be a big push any day now. They need every man there is. Hasn’t Mr Freddie told you?”
“They can’t say that sort of thing in letters,” Sarah said. “I know almost nothing of what is going on.”
“Well, from what Tom told me when he was here, and from what he’s hinted at since, it’s that they are going to attack the Germans very soon. A huge attack all the way along the front line. Until that is over and the Germans have been pushed back a long way they need every man they’ve got.”
“When?” asked Sarah, her thoughts immediately with Freddie.
Molly shrugged. “Don’t know,” she said, “I don’t think anyone knows, but it’s soon. I told you what Tom had said at the time, remember?”
“I know, but that was weeks ago.” She thought for a moment and then said, “Who did Tom go to? To ask for leave I mean?”
“Didn’t I say? He went to Mr Freddie. He’s his company commander. He told Tom that he couldn’t possibly have leave now.”
“Perhaps if I wrote to him,” suggested Sarah, “explained how important it was he might change his mind. What do you think?”
“Oh, Sarah, would you? He’d listen to you. You could tell him we only need Tom for a day. I would go to Albert and meet him and then we’d get married and Tom would go back.”
“It might make a difference,” Sarah said, “but it might not. I’ll write to him tonight, but you mustn’t get your hopes up, Molly. He may not be able to do anything.”
Molly grasped her hand. “Oh Sarah, I knew I could count on you. Tom told me to tell you, but I kept putting it off. I thought you’d be so angry with me.”
“Well I am,” said Sarah. “I’m condoning nothing that you and Tom have done, but I can’t leave you to sort it out on your own.” She gave Molly a fleeting smile. “I know if I were in any sort of trouble you’d help me. So, I’ll write tonight, but I think we may have to tell Reverend Mother in the end. We have to explain why you are going home.”
Before they put the light out the letter was written and in its envelope, waiting to be posted.
22nd June
Dearest Freddie,
I am writing to you about Molly Day and one of your soldiers. His name is Tom Carter, he’s the private in your company whom you met when you were here. Molly and he met here in the hospital, fell in love and decided to get married. It wasn’t possible before he had to return to the front and so they jumped the gun. Now Molly is expecting and though the man says he will stand by her, he can’t get here to do the decent thing and she will have to go back to England to have the baby without benefit of clergy! Is there any possible way you can give him a 48-hour pass so that he can come down to Albert and we can get them married there. I think the padre here, Robert Kingston would marry them in the circumstances, both are of age now. Anyway, dear Freddie, please see what you can do. We understand the position at present, but surely one man for 48 hours wouldn’t be too much to ask. I know you will say it is their own stupid fault that they are in this mess, and I agree, but Molly has been with us a long time and perhaps we owe her our help now. It would be a dreadful thing for her to go back home as an unmarried mother. She has been truly wonderful in our work here at the convent and certainly “done her bit”. Also, they weren’t lucky, like you, able to get married when they wanted to and I know their baby is just as important to them as yours is to you, and they so want it to have its father’s name!
I know you will do what you can, and look forward to hearing from you soon. Take care, brother mine, especially over the next few days, your wife and baby need you as well… not to mention me!
Your loving sister, Sarah
It was sometime before they had any more news from the front, and when it came it came in two pieces of mail; a trench postcard from Tom to Molly, telling her exactly nothing, and a scrawled note to Sarah from Freddie.
Wednesday 28th June
Dear Sarah
I’ve done the best I can. TC may be able to come to the town in a few days’ time, but don’t bank on it. If he’s not there by the 15th July, send the silly girl home. She won’t be the only one in her predicament while this war is on! Pray for me and for success in the coming weeks.
I have written to the governor and Heather. I send my love to you all.
Freddie
“He’s done the best he can,” Sarah told Molly, “but it doesn’t sound very hopeful. His letter was dated 28th, something must have happened by now.”
Four days later news began to filter back from the front of the grand offensive which had finally been launched. The sound of the artillery had rumbled round them for days, and continued an ever-present though remote thunder, and then the convoys of wounded began to arrive. Sister Magdalene went to Albert to meet the ambulances and the hospital trains, telling the medical staff who arrived there with their loads of wounded just how many they could accommodate at St Croix. She took Sarah with her to translate, and when they returned to the convent, they were both pale and shaken by what they had witnessed. Thousands of wounded were pouring in from every front, many simply to be transferred to trains and taken to the waiting hospital ships that plied non-stop across the channel with their broken cargoes.
The news that arrived with the wounded was very mixed. Some said that the push had been a great disaster. Others that the allies had broken through the German lines and though there were heavy casualties they had achieved their objectives; yet others that the battle was still raging with trenches changing hands and Germans launching a counter-attack. Most were only aware of what has happened to them and their mates, and for many who had survived the fateful attack on 1st July, the memories of it were haunting and terrifying. The wounds to their bodies were many and terrible, the wounds to their minds could not be reckoned.
All thoughts of tiredness gone, Molly and Sarah worked flat out in their wards trying to keep up with the injured men flooding in. The two medical officers from the convalescent camp spent their days in the convent hospital along with the overworked Dr Gergaud. Hours were spent in the operating theatre, and hours more in the wards with treatment and aftercare. The regular duty hours were gone as the nuns and the two girls snatched sleep as and when they could. Molly was no longer the only one with a tendency to fall asleep almost without warning, exhaustion caught up with all of them, and still the wounded flooded in.
Nothing was heard from Tom or Freddie. The chaotic state of affairs at the front persisted, with a handful of brave and exhausted men hanging on to their trenches in the face of a powerful enemy. Molly thought of Tom and could only pray that he had survived the carnage of the attack. If he had, he must be among the survivors who had been thrown back into the allied trenches to hold them against the expected German counter-attack. There were no men from the Belshires in the wounded that arrived at the convent, but several of the men that she and Sarah questioned said that the Belshires had been in the thick of it near Beaumont Hamel. There was no news of Freddie either, and Sarah found herself praying, a mantra in the back of her mind as she worked, “Please God, let Freddie be safe. Please God, let Freddie be safe.”
The 15th July came and went, but neither of them gave any thought to Molly going home now. She could not be spared, and if her condition became apparent to all, well, she told Sarah, she would deal with that when it happened.