Sixty-Six

On November 11th, 1918, a beautiful word entered everyone’s heads, and it was ‘Armistice’.

Though its meaning was truce, a truce could be temporary, and to the damaged people of Europe, the real meaning of the Armistice was peace. Permanent peace. The time when the two sides realized they’d had enough. When the Kaiser had abdicated, the guns were silent. And when the soldiers would come home.

Not at first, of course. There would be formalities. Demobilization couldn’t take place overnight. But, sooner or later, the men would be back, the main thing to remember being that they were now safe.

‘Thank God,’ said Brenda, bringing her baby daughter, Tamsin, round to the Primrose just before Christmas. There were hugs and kisses and exchanging of little presents, before fond farewells and promises to keep in touch the minute anything was heard from the loved ones, who would be coming home as soon as possible.

‘Can’t believe that this place will soon be returning to a ladies’ club again,’ Brenda remarked as she left, with Tamsin in her pram. ‘And then the hospital will be as though it had never been.’

‘Don’t know about soon,’ said Elinor. ‘These things take time. Now I’d better change and dash – it’s my afternoon off and I’ve to do more shopping.’

But on the steps of the Primrose, she looked across to the gardens, still handsome in the severity of winter, still with enough light for a quick walk round to clear her head before she faced the shops. And, of course, she still had her key. Wouldn’t have that for much longer.

She walked quickly across to the gate and let herself in, succumbing at once to the peace of the haven she so much enjoyed. How tranquil she could always feel in this green space – at least, when she knew that Stephen would be coming home, and was safe. No more battles. No more reading of casualty lists, heart in mouth, trembling fingers turning the page  . . .

Armistice, she murmured. Oh, thank God, it’s come!

Brushing a bench with her gloves, she decided to sit for a while and sank into a reverie that brought Stephen to her now. Not officially demobbed, but simply spirited into her arms, a figure from a dream – her dream.

Was she dreaming, then, when she thought she heard his voice?

‘Elinor, let me in! Elinor, open the gate! Elinor!’

She sprang to her feet, instantly terrified that something had happened to him, that it was not he calling but his spirit, for she’d heard of things like that, everyone had stories, in wartime—

‘Elinor!’ she heard his voice again, so strongly, she knew it was no spirit’s, and ran, stumbling, to open the gate.

‘Stephen, Stephen!’ she was crying, and he was there, painfully thin in his uniform, leaning on a stick she hadn’t seen before, but smiling at her as only a real-live man could smile.

‘Elinor!’

He let go of his stick, gazing at her, as she gazed back at him, each dwelling on the other’s face as though they could never see enough, never be sure it was actually there.

‘I thought you were a ghost,’ she whispered. ‘I thought I’d called you up and you were a spirit. I thought you might be dead.’

‘Dead? A ghost?’ He laughed and put his arms around her. ‘Do I look like a ghost?’

Clinging together, they kissed, strongly and passionately, with no thought of strangeness, as though the intervening years of disillusion followed by the nightmare of war had never happened. So secure were they in their rediscovered love, when they finally drew apart, Elinor was smiling in contentment and Stephen was laughing again.

‘Do I kiss like a ghost?’ he asked. ‘Thank God, no. You don’t need to tell me. No ghost could feel as I do, being back with you. I’ve dreamed of it for so long, you know. So long, because we lost so much time.’

‘I know. My fault.’

‘Don’t let’s go into it. All over now.’

‘Yes, all over. I’m so glad, Stephen. So glad.’

Her smile, however, as she looked down at his stick and handed it to him, had vanished.

‘Why?’ she asked quietly. ‘Why the stick?’

‘It’s just my knee playing up after an old injury, that’s all. Sometimes I need the stick, sometimes I don’t. Look, shall we sit down for a moment? Let me look at you, believe you’re really here.’

They moved to a bench and sat close, as close as they could, their eyes still fixed on each other, still seeking reassurance that their closeness was no dream, was real, as real as all they’d been through that now was over.

‘Are you still in the army?’ Elinor asked, running her fingers down his gaunt cheek, thinking he was as handsome as ever, but different. Of course he was different. What he had endured, what he had seen, would have left its mark, just as their experiences had left scars on the patients she tended in the Primrose.

‘You’re in uniform – are you just back because of your knee?’

‘I’m still in the army. Won’t be demobbed for a few weeks; I’m just on leave at present.’

‘You’ll no’ be going back?’ she cried in alarm.

‘No, no. I haven’t had any leave at all for months, except for a weekend in France, and the powers that be decided to let me go. Seeing as I might have to have a small op on this knee we’ve been talking about.’

At the look on her face, he shook her arm gently. ‘Only so that I can do without the stick. Don’t worry.’

‘As though I could ever stop worrying.’

‘Yet you look so beautiful. Just the same as you always did.’

Again, they kissed for a long moment, until Stephen pulled a little away and asked in a whisper, ‘When can we be married? As soon as possible?’

‘Oh, yes, yes!’

‘Would you mind a civil wedding? Mind giving up the trimmings? If you want them, I don’t mind, I’ll stand the wait somehow  . . .’

‘I don’t care about the trimmings. I just want to be with you.’

‘And then what? Will you come and work with me in my hostel when I get it? Use all those lovely business skills I taught you?’

‘Someone else wanted those,’ she said lightly.

‘Someone else?’ His brow darkened. ‘Who?’

‘Miss Ainslie. Offered me the post of assistant manageress at the club when it re-opens.’

‘And you’ll take it?’

He was so instantly afraid, she immediately covered his face with kisses.

‘Of course I won’t! I want to be like you, doing what I can to help people like me. I mean, people who haven’t been as lucky as me.’

‘It might be a drop in the ocean, what we achieve,’ he said seriously, ‘but I take the view that oceans need drops, anyway. Are you really sure you want to work with me, then?’

‘Really sure.’

He took her hands and kissed them.

‘You know what – it’s freezing here, and getting dark. Why are we always meeting in the dark?’

‘What dark?’ she cried. ‘The gardens are full of light.’

They strolled slowly back to the gate, Stephen saying soon they must meet their two mothers, make everyone happy, and they would be, he knew, but for now, why not make for Maule’s and have a Scottish afternoon tea? Another thing he’d been dreaming about all his long years away. It was terrible, he had to admit, the amount of time he and everyone at war spent thinking about food.

‘Better warn you, we’re a bit the same,’ said Elinor cheerfully. ‘We’ve had rationing since February.’

‘Oh, no, don’t tell me! Surely, Maule’s will still have butter for their scones?’

‘I’m sure they will. This is our lucky day, isn’t it?’

‘Our lucky day  . . . The first of many, Elinor?

‘Of a lifetime,’ she said seriously.

But as they let themselves out and she relocked the gate, she gave a little sigh.

‘The only thing I’ll miss is the square, you know. The gardens mean a lot to me.’

‘Why, you could be a member of the ladies’ club!’ Stephen told her, waving his stick at the house across the road. ‘And have your own key to the gardens. What could be better?’

‘Stephen, you’re no’ serious?’

‘Never more so. I’ll pay your sub for a wedding present. What do you say?’

Smiling, she shook her head, still in disbelief that she should ever turn into a club member, and put her arms around him, just as Major Henderson, having shown out a patient, looked down from his window and saw them. By the light of the street lamp, he could even see their faces, and at their radiance, gave a quiet little sigh.

‘Come in, Corporal Armstrong,’ he called over his shoulder, as a tap sounded on his door. ‘Be with you in a minute.’

‘Right you are, sir. Mind if I smoke? Only joking.’

Over at Maule’s tea room, Stephen and Elinor, facing each other across their lucky two-shilling tea for two, were so overcome with feeling, it was some time before they ate anything at all.