Sixty-Two

‘Over by Christmas,’ they’d said of the war in 1914. But when yet another Christmas rolled round in 1917, no one spoke of an ending. It was as though they’d come to accept that they might always be in a state of war, for there never seemed even a chance of a breakthrough. Why, even the entry of America into the war against Germany had not so far made a difference. No doubt it would, eventually, but for Christmas 1917, hope of any change was in short supply.

Still, efforts were occasionally made to try to appear festive. At the Primrose, for instance, it had been decided to hold a party for staff and patients, with dancing in the dining room to a wind-up gramophone, a singsong to the old piano, played by Major Brown, sausage rolls and sandwiches provided by the army cooks. Matron, to everyone’s surprise, had contributed a large Christmas cake, without icing, alas, but was said to include brandy – the only alcohol permitted.

‘Heavens, don’t see us getting drunk on that!’ laughed Brenda, who was in wonderfully good spirits with Tam, home on leave, thin but fit, at her side.

‘Who needs drink?’ he cried, taking her on to the floor for the next dance. ‘We’re having a grand time, anyway.’

‘Oh, it’s so wonderful to see Tam looking so well,’ Elinor murmured, as Major Henderson joined her in watching the dancing. ‘I mean, after all he’s been through.’

‘He’s certainly another of our successes. Somehow, he’s found the strength this time to cope with whatever horrors he’s seen, and that means a lot to us here.’

‘Because you set him on his way, just as you did with Barry.’

‘I’m not so sure of that. I think you had more to do with his recovery than I did.’

‘Don’t forget his new leg,’ Elinor remarked with a smile.

‘Ah, no, that was a godsend for him, I know. But he’s not here tonight, is he? I think he was asked.’

‘No, he hasn’t come.’ She paused for a moment. ‘He’s really happy, now that he can walk, but maybe, seeing folk dancing – maybe that’d be too much.’

‘Yes, it’s hard.’ The major heaved a sigh. ‘But, look, you’re not dancing yourself. They’ve just changed the record. Shall we take the floor?’

The dance was a foxtrot – not something Elinor knew – but the major led well, made it easy for her, and she felt no self-consciousness in dancing with him, having long ago put out of her mind Barry’s foolish remarks. Major Henderson was the type to be naturally courteous and thoughtful, and what he felt for her was clearly no more than the same kindly interest he gave everyone. Which was just as well, as she had no wish for anything more.

‘Talking of Barry,’ he said quietly, as the dance ended and they moved to chairs. ‘I’m still so relieved you and he didn’t go ahead with wedding plans. Marriages for the wrong reason often end in failure.’ He gave a quick shrug. ‘Not that I speak from experience. I’ve never been married, though I was once engaged.’

‘I see,’ she murmured, though she didn’t, and thought it strange that the normally reticent major should now be talking about himself.

‘Yes, it was before the war. I was engaged to someone from Reigate – my home town – but she died.’ The major looked down. ‘Diphtheria.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry!’

‘It’s all right; it was a long time ago.’

‘Circulate, Major Henderson, circulate!’ came a cry from Matron, as she sailed up with Sister Penny in tow. ‘There are a number of ladies waiting for partners, and patients waiting for you, Elinor. Come along now – you know Colonel Shannon wants us all to be mixing at this Christmas party!’

With a rueful grin, the major allowed himself to be led away, while Sister Penny steered Elinor in the direction of a group of patients sitting together.

‘On the floor now, on the floor!’ the sister cried. ‘You’re all supposed to be enjoying yourselves this evening! Here’s Elinor, come to take you, Private MacDuffie, and if I take you, Private Mennie, you others can move around and ask some of those nurses over there. Quickly, now!’

‘We’re enjoying ourselves here,’ Private Mennie muttered, backing away from Sister Penny’s outstretched hand, but it was to no avail. As the other patients scattered, he was taken on to the floor, followed by Elinor with Private MacDuffie.

‘Reckon I’m the lucky one,’ he murmured, as they tried to fit their steps to an old-fashioned waltz. ‘Getting you to dance with, eh? There’s a lot o’ fellows keen on you, Elinor.’

She only smiled, trying to avoid his feet. It was true, of course, that patients often thought themselves to be in love with those who cared for them, but such romantic ideas always disappeared at the end of the hospital stay. Only Barry and she had ever got as far as an engagement, and it was no surprise that that, too, had ended when Barry recovered. Oh, what a relief that had been to her! And to Major Henderson, seemingly, but that would only be a sign of his genuine interest in everyone’s welfare. What a shame about his fiancée, though. No doubt he would always be faithful to her memory  . . .

‘Ouch!’ Elinor cried.

‘Sorry,’ groaned Private MacDuffie. ‘Was that your toe?’

‘Nae bother,’ she said faintly. ‘Nae bother at all.’

‘Had a good time, then?’ her mother asked, when she got home late after the party.

‘I did, I really enjoyed it – apart from the odd injury to my toes in the dancing.’

‘I bet,’ said Corrie, laughing. ‘I know what soldiers’ feet are like!’

His mother and his sister looked at him fondly, still unused to his being at home, a civilian again, discharged from the army with a right arm and hand that were virtually useless. Though he’d taught himself to write with his left hand, there was no question of a draughtsman’s career for him now, or even factory work, and he had found himself a job as a salesman in a gentleman’s tailor’s in George Street. It wasn’t bad, he said; he could make something of it, and it did mean he had wages and could save up to get married to Sally.

There was an engagement that would last, Hessie and Elinor had told each other with pleasure. It would have to be a long one, of course, until they could afford to wed, but they were both so much in love, they’d be sure to get there in the end. Meanwhile, Sally was stitching her trousseau and already discussing her wedding dress with her mother.

Two happy people, Corrie and Sally, Elinor thought as she went to bed. Which meant, then, that some few could be happy in spite of the war? She hoped so. She hoped her brother’s marriage would help to salve the pain of his memories, just as perhaps Stephen’s would help him to forget. But Elinor couldn’t bring herself to dwell on that. Besides, she didn’t even know what had happened to him – that was the worst of all.