32. Sour Milk Gill

Ada and Jamie were also enjoying a beautiful Christmas day, driving through Keswick alone and blissfully happy. Empty of visitors and with its shops closed for the holidays, the little grey-stone town with its ancient Moot Hall looked charming as they drove through on their way to Derwentwater. In the morning light waves broke on the shore of the vast lake, while meandering streams the colour of lapis lazuli threaded their way through a network of marshlands.

‘I feel like we’re the only people in the world,’ Ada said, as she gazed at the empty shoreline, where a flock of swooping seagulls screeched crossly at each other.

‘The Christmas-morning services will be over by now,’ Jamie mused. ‘Time to get out the sherry bottle and open gifts while dinner cooks in the oven.’

Ada gave him a curious look. ‘You sound almost envious.’

Jamie pressed his warm hand on her slender thighs, which he softly squeezed. ‘I wouldn’t want to be anywhere in the world but right here with you, my darling.’

Ada laid her head against his shoulder. ‘I wish we could hide in the mountains until the war is over,’ she sighed, tears forming in her eyes. ‘I just can’t bear the thought of your going back.’

‘Let’s not think about that just yet,’ Jamie begged. ‘We’ve got all of today and some of tomorrow.’

‘I feel guilty that I’ve taken up most of your leave. Your mother will be feeling very neglected.’

‘Don’t be silly, sweetheart. My sister will be at home with her three noisy children – I wouldn’t get a word in edgeways even if I were there.’

Cuddling up close to him, Ada leant over to kiss Jamie’s cheek.

‘We must seize the day!’ Jamie cried, as he pressed down hard on the accelerator, and the car sped along the winding lanes. ‘Just for now, let’s forget all about tomorrow.’

A few miles down the road Jamie halted at a little grey-slate village surrounded by sheepfolds and barns.

‘Seathwaite,’ he said, grinning. ‘The wettest place in England!’

As they laced up their walking boots and put on raincoats, Ada asked where Jamie was planning on walking.

‘We’re going to Sty Head, another of my favourite places.’

Ada laughed at his boyish enthusiasm. ‘You say that about everywhere we go,’ she teased.

‘That’s because they’re all perfect places when I can share them with you,’ Jamie laughed.

Walking hand in hand, they crossed the boggy fields and began walking over slabs and rocks that skirted a fast-flowing stream.

‘This route up the fell is called Sour Milk Gill,’ Jamie said, as he watched Ada sprint like an athlete up the steep upward-curving path. ‘You can cool yourself down if you get too hot – the water’s delicious,’ he said, dipping his hand into the freezing cold gill. ‘Sweet and cold and fresh.’

Following the course of the cascading stream, they climbed higher and higher, until they reached the peak of Green Gable, where they stood buffeted by a strong wind. Gazing in awestruck silence at the majesty of the landscape, Ada caught her breath.

‘That’s Sty Head Tarn,’ Jamie explained, pointing towards a small lake twinkling in the slanting sunlight like a bright jewel. ‘Up above Sty Head you can just make out the blue waters of Sprinkling Tarn and beyond that the Langdale Range.’

‘Oh, my goodness, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite so beautiful in my life,’ Ada cried, as she flung her arms wide. ‘I want to catch it all and hold it forever,’ she said, and turned to kiss Jamie full on the mouth. ‘I’ll remember this always,’ she whispered in his ear, as the wind whipped her hair around her face.

Smiling, Jamie pulled her close and kissed her cold cheeks, now bright red because of the cold wind.

‘Fancy having our picnic down there by Sty Head Tarn – it’ll be more sheltered from the wind than up here?’ he asked.

Ada nodded. ‘I’m starving!’

By the time they reached Windy Gap, the wind roaring up from Honister Pass was strong enough to almost blow them over.

‘It’s wild,’ Ada laughed, as she struggled to keep her balance.

‘It’ll be fine once we drop down on to the other side,’ Jamie replied.

Keeping to the stony pathway that followed the course of Sty Head Gill, they made their way down Aaron Slack, where the wind did indeed drop until they were finally able to hear themselves speak. Once they’d reached the relatively flat area surrounding the tarn, they settled down with their backs against a great granite slab that kept them sheltered from the wind as they ate their picnic.

‘Thank God for Sister Mary Paul,’ Jamie mumbled, as he ate his cheese-and-pickle sandwiches with relish.

‘Here, have some tea,’ Ada said, handing him the Thermos.

Replete after eating, Jamie sighed as he lifted his face to the weak sunshine. ‘This is a world away from where I’ve been,’ he said quietly.

Ada held her breath as Jamie started to speak. She had been longing to talk to him about his time in the casualty clearing station but had held back for fear of spoiling their happy mood, but now he seemed relaxed enough to open up about his work.

‘The bombing seems to go on all day long,’ he started. ‘The shells zip over in batches every fifteen minutes. No matter how hard and long we work, the casualties just keep on piling up. We’re constantly shifting the operating theatre, which is lit by only one pretty feeble electric lamp, to a safer place. On one ghastly occasion the operating theatre, in some grand room in an abandoned French chateau, was hit by a shell. It was grim sorting out the patients from the masonry in order to get the injured outside. Everybody was shouting for help and water; some poor chaps were crawling, wounded and bleeding, on the lawn with shells bursting around them.’

Seeing the lines around Jamie’s jaw thicken with tension, Ada reached out to take his hand, which she kept hold of.

‘It must be heartbreaking working in such terrible conditions,’ she murmured.

‘It’s great when you can help to alleviate a patient’s pain or evacuate the casualties to a general hospital behind the lines – what’s hell is seeing men suffering and not being able to do anything.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I’m a doctor, dedicated to saving lives, but I’ve had to watch sick men die and it feels so wrong.’ Squeezing Ada’s hand hard, he added, ‘Don’t misunderstand me, darling, I want to be there, I just wish there were better conditions in which to treat the wounded, and more equipment too. There’s simply never enough. Civilians send us socks and soap when what we really need is scalpels, lamps, bandages, beds, blankets and stretchers.’

‘Surely as the war intensifies the authorities will provide more essential equipment?’ Ada asked.

‘I hope so,’ he agreed. ‘But how can we possibly operate effectively with German shells landing so close to our clearing stations? It’s not just lives that are lost; it’s the loss of all the equipment too.’

Taking a deep breath, Jamie replaced the lid on the Thermos. ‘Enough of that,’ he muttered apologetically. ‘I’ve said way too much.’

Ada looked at him indignantly. ‘Why shouldn’t you tell me what you’re going through over there? I would prefer to know the truth,’ she hotly insisted.

Jamie laid his head on her full, rounded breasts. ‘I wish I could stay here forever, here in the country that I love with the woman I adore.’

Ada stroked his cheek as she kissed the top of his head. ‘Come back to me safely, won’t you, my darling?’

Jamie looked up into her lovely but anxious face. Tracing the line of her luscious pouting lips with his index finger, he whispered his reply. ‘It’s the thought of you, my love, that keeps me alive.’

By the time Jamie and Ada got back to Mary Vale, Christmas dinner was over and a party was in full swing in the dining room. With Dora on the piano leading the singing, the Home resonated with the happy sound of carols. Alf’s and Frank’s deep voices sounded out, while Sister Theresa’s and Sister Ann’s sweet, pure voices accompanied the residents, who were all wearing paper hats. Sister Mary Paul had kept her promise to save Jamie and Ada dinner, which they ate sitting at the kitchen table.

‘There’s a glass of port, a little gift from the convent, to go with it,’ the nun said with a wicked smile. ‘Now I’ll leave you in peace to finish your meal before I start clearing up.’

It was lovely to sit by themselves in the cosy kitchen, which smelt of spices and baking bread.

‘The perfect end to the perfect day,’ Jamie said, as he finished off every single scrap on his plate. Picking up his glass of port, he raised it to Ada, ‘Here’s to us, my darling, happy days.’

Smiling, Ada clinked her full glass against his. ‘Here’s to many more days walking beside you in the Lake District.’

After Jamie had helped her to wash up their dishes, Ada turned to him. ‘Would you mind if I just popped on to the ward for a moment? I’m keen to see Gracie.’

‘Of course,’ Jamie answered. ‘But before you go can I ask you something?’

Hanging up the tea towels with her back turned to him, Ada replied in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘Yes, of course, what is it?’

‘Come and sit by me – there’s something I want to show you,’ Jamie said, smiling.

Returning to the table, Ada sat down beside him; he gently took her left hand in his.

‘Will you marry me, my darling, wonderful Ada? Will you be my wife?’

As he spoke, Jamie slipped a glittering diamond ring out of his pocket. Shocked, delighted and overwhelmed, Ada was completely lost for words and could only stare in disbelief at the beautiful ring.

‘Really?’ she finally blurted out before bursting into floods of tears.

‘I’ve never been more serious in my entire life,’ Jamie assured her.

Sobbing and laughing all at the same time, Ada cried out her reply. ‘Yes, yes, oh, yes!’

Laughing with joy too, Jamie eased the ring on to her wedding finger, then pulled her into his arms.

‘I was going to propose to you at Sty Head Tarn,’ he confessed. ‘But when we got there, I realized I had left the ring back here. What a chump I am!’

Ada clung on to him; with her head pressed into his chest, she tried to stop the flow of tears that threatened to overtake her completely. How could she be so happy, so unbelievably lucky? She had met the sweetest man in the world, whom she longed to spend the rest of her life with. And yet her bubble of joy burst at the thought that tomorrow he would pack up his bag and return to the Front, to fight for all that they believed in. How would she bear being separated from her beloved all over again? Jamie was no longer her dashing, handsome boyfriend: he was her future husband; the man with whom she would spend the rest of her life, she hoped.

‘Please God,’ she prayed in the silence of her heart. ‘Look after my Jamie, keep him safe and bring him home to me. Amen.’