Abbeville, late September 1917
Trying to heal
Edith, Connie, Nancy and Jennifer sat on the sand dunes looking out to sea. A ship glided along the horizon in the distance.
‘I reckon that’s the one our wounded will be on soon. It’s ’eading up towards Calais, and they are well on their way there by now.’
No one answered Connie, but Nancy spoke, changing the subject. ‘Well, you’re a morose lot. Come on. Let’s have a dip in the sea!’
‘Ooh, no, Nancy. It will be freezing!’
‘It’s always freezing, Edith, even in high summer. But it is a lovely day today and we’ll soon warm up. Come on!’
Nancy stripped off her jumper as she said this, revealing the top of her knitted swim-dress.
‘Oh, you came prepared then?’
‘I did, Jennifer. Didn’t you?’
‘No, I thought the same as Edith, that it would be too cold.’
‘Uh, soft like Joe-suds, you two posh bitches are. Come on, Nancy, I’m game. Though I’ll ’ave to swim in the nude, as I ’aven’t come prepared, either.’
‘You wouldn’t!’ Jennifer sounded astonished, but emitted a girlish giggle.
‘Watch me!’ said Connie.
Laughing like she thought she would never laugh again, Edith rolled her head backwards. Connie’s huge bosom, when let free, bounced up and down as she jiggled out of her long skirt, but that wasn’t anything compared to what her big bottom did when, naked as the day she was born, she ran towards the water.
‘Oh, Edith, have you ever seen anything so funny and yet so beautiful?’
This pulled Edith up. With those words came the realization that it was beautiful to see these lovely girls having fun, and hearing them squeal with delight. Suddenly she wanted to be part of it. ‘Come on, Jennifer, let’s join them.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t!’
‘Yes, you could. The lads know not to come down to the beach while we are having our time down here. It’s a court-martial offence to intrude on our privacy when we have our bathing dresses on, so no one but us will know.’
‘Ha, it’s a good job no one sees what goes on during the night!’
‘Jennifer! You and Mark?’
‘Yes, me and Mark.’
‘Well, be careful, old thing, you know where that can lead.’
‘Mark knows what he is doing.’
Yes, Mark knows. I knew too, but in the heat of a passionate moment I permitted it.
‘What’s that look for? I’m only human, Edith. I love Mark. And God knows I can’t wait for when all this is over and we can be married. Neither of us can wait. You wait until it happens to you!’
‘Oh, Jen.’
‘It has, hasn’t it?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
A shout of ‘Hey, come on, it’s not so bad once your body gets used to it’ carried on the wind, and Edith shook the sad thoughts from her and stripped off her clothes, shivering more and more as she disposed of each layer.
‘Oh God, Edith. I didn’t know you had once been fat!’
‘I – I . . .’
Pulling her skirt back down over her stretch-marks, Edith wished the ground would open up. Jennifer could be very outspoken; she should have known Jennifer wouldn’t let anything pass. She’d been a fool to bare herself.
‘You can talk to me, Edith. I know there is something wrong. I have sensed it since you came back. You have to talk to someone, and I would never divulge anything you said.’
There was something about Jennifer that made you want to talk to her. Even though she had never received any training, she was a skilled counsellor. But no, if she needed to talk, Edith did so to Ada, in long letters in which she poured out her heart. ‘There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine. I went through a bad experience. And yes, I did put weight on – a lot of weight. During that time when I suffered memory loss the farmer’s wife just fed and fed me, as she did her husband. But it came off, though sadly it left me with these marks. I seem to be a pear-shape and to put it all on around my bottom half. They’ll fade with time. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m going in – stretch-marks or no.’
The cold water took her breath away and masked her weeping heart.
It didn’t weep for long, as Connie started to splash her. Joining in the fun lifted Edith’s mood, and she found she could laugh. There was so much to cry about, but that didn’t make things better; laughing did. It healed you and made you able to cope.
Too cold to care what anyone else looked like, neither Connie nor Nancy seemed to notice the red weals on her thighs and stomach. She made no attempt to hide them. She didn’t care what Jennifer thought, or any of them. The marks were all she had to prove that she was a mother; that she had carried and nurtured two beautiful girls in her womb. She would wear them on her body with pride.
When they were back on duty later that day, an influx of badly injured men kept them busy. The stench around her brought the bile to her throat. She could stomach most things, but the awful smell of rotting flesh on living humans turned her stomach and her heart.
She looked up over her mask at Mark, who was helping her to amputate a leg. ‘Mark, some of the wounded are having to travel too far to get help. There doesn’t seem to be a good clearing station at the front any more.’
‘I know. These poor devils start off as the walking wounded. They have come back across the border from the Passchendaele battle. There are so few trucks now that it is a case of some walking while others ride, and then they swap over. The progress is slow. Too slow to get to us, and very few seem to have had first-line treatment.’
Over the grinding noise of the saw, and with drips of her sweat running down her face, Edith said, ‘Those girls who brought them look exhausted. Will it ever end?’
‘No. It never will, for some of us. We will always carry scars.’
Not wanting the conversation to go the way Mark was leading it, Edith butted in. There was something she needed to discuss with him, as he was now the senior medic. ‘Why can’t we set up a halfway post? I could run it. We should speak to the Red Cross administration about it. It could be on the border of Belgium and France. I am sure it would save lives.’
‘You may be right. I’ll look into it. There, that’s done. I’ll leave you to stitch it up. I need a break. I may have to go over to the French quarter later, as they are very short-staffed.’
As if she didn’t need a break! But then he had agreed to talk about her idea, so that was something. Plus, if it came off, she would be so much nearer Laurent. Maybe she could get a message to him! She would go over to the French quarter herself later on. Mark had told her how snowed under they were. It would be a distraction, and it would be good to hear the French language again.
The post the next day warmed her heart: Eloise and Jay were married. As no one was there, or likely to go there for a while, they were going to honeymoon at Hastleford Hall and then use it as a retreat until their own home was ready, although they would spend most of their time in London. Edith couldn’t have been happier for darling Eloise. She had seen where her cousin’s heart lay a long time ago. And they had put her mind at rest as regards Jimmy’s Hope House, saying they had recruited wounded ex-officers and rank soldiers to fill the posts they had held, and that they and Ada were doing a wonderful job and that everything was ticking over really well.
‘Doctor Edith, Ma’am, Captain Woodster asked me to ask you if you could go over to the French quarter. He is over there and has been there all night. It seems there is a soldier – an officer – saying your name over and over.’
Edith’s heart jumped in her chest, giving her a painful jolt. Could it be . . . ? Oh God, if it is, please don’t let him be badly hurt!
‘Where is he, Mark?’ Mark’s eyes were rimmed with black shadows. Her guilt made her snap at him. ‘Why didn’t you call me? I thought you were coping, and that you had been in your bed all night, as I was!’
‘I was. Then they brought in a late batch of wounded and they couldn’t cope. I couldn’t wake you. You needed your rest.’
Shaking her head and tutting at him, she didn’t argue further, but asked, ‘You said someone was saying my name?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid he’s badly injured. And of course he could mean any Edith, but at one point he did say, “She’s a doctor.”‘
Hardly able to breathe, Edith asked, ‘Do you know his name?’
‘Pevensy. Captain Laurent Pevensy . . .’
Her body swayed.
‘Hey, hold on, old thing. Are you all right?’
‘Tell me he isn’t going to die. Please tell me he isn’t going to die.’
‘I’m sorry, Edith, but he doesn’t stand much chance. You should go to him. He is in the second tent along from here. Good luck, old thing. I’ve done all I can for him. I’ll have to go to have a lie-down now. Other patients could come in, in the next few hours.’
‘No, tell me. Tell me what has happened to him.’
‘He’s lost a leg and has stomach injuries from shrapnel. His leg was infected. I don’t know how far the gangrene has spread or if I’ve got it all. And he has facial injuries. But he had some treatment before he got here, so that helped, otherwise he would have bled to death. I’m so sorry, Edith. He obviously is someone very important in your life, but I won’t ask how.’
‘Thanks, Mark. One day I will tell you about it. And, Mark, I am happy about you and Jennifer, but please take care.’
He thanked her with a wry smile. She knew he would know that she meant him to take care in all ways, because fraternizing wasn’t allowed among the medical staff – let alone what could happen if they took their love too far. The disgrace for Jennifer would be too much for her to bear. As she knew only too well.
She felt crushed as she looked down on the still figure of Laurent. Life had almost left him. His pallor made his eyebrows – something she hadn’t noticed before – look as black as coal. His moustache was gone. His left cheek had a hole in it, exposing his broken teeth and jawbone. But his lips were intact . . . A brush of memory gave her his soft, beautiful lips. Now, as she bent to kiss them, they were hard and crusty.
‘Laurent. It’s Edith. Laurent, darling, don’t give up. Fight, my darling. Hold on to life. I am waiting here for you.’
The still form didn’t move. Taking his hand in hers, she held it gently. ‘I am here for you, Laurent.’ Stroking the loose skin, she wondered how he would cope with having lost his leg, but then he was courageous. He would find something within himself to help him. But what about his work? Funny I should think like this after all, for what does that matter? All that matters is that he lives! ‘Oh, Laurent, I love you.’
His head moved. His eyes opened. He went to speak, but couldn’t.
‘Don’t try to talk. Your face is injured, and they have operated on your jaw, darling. It will heal. You will heal. I won’t let you die.’
Hope came into his eyes. ‘Edith.’
Her name was formed; not perfectly, and she wondered how Mark had deciphered it, but Laurent had said her name!
‘Rest, darling. I will be by your side. You can get well – you can. I have seen miracles happen here. And usually it is down to the will of the person. Be strong, darling; fight!’
He nodded his head. Then closed his eyes.