A Bitter Truth (28 page)

“We haven’t time to talk. You must get me out of here, it’s—just trust me, and I’ll tell you everything,” he pleaded in a hoarse whisper.

“But you’re in Dover—how did you get here? What have you done?”

“Never mind that. I’ve told them I had a head wound, I’m out of my mind. Just play along, Sister, and help me. For God’s sake.”

I had two choices: to go along with whatever it was he wanted to do or to turn him over to the authorities as a deserter. And if I did that, he would be shot.

I said, exasperation clear in my voice as I spoke loud enough to reach the sentry outside, “Sergeant. I told you I must go to England. Not you. Didn’t you understand? I can’t help you here, you should have stayed with Sister Barlow. She’s a good nurse. And none of this would have happened.”

A grin split his thin, tired face. But his voice was humble as he answered, “Sister, please help me. My head hurts something terrible, I can’t think straight. You told me you’d see me right. That’s why I came looking for you.”

“It’s a wonder you haven’t fallen ill of pneumonia. Oh, very well, Sergeant. Come along and I’ll do what I can. But give me any trouble and I’ll turn you in to the nearest soldier.”

I pushed at the door, and the guard took two quick steps out of its way as it swung open. I could tell he’d been listening. But he asked, “Everything all right, Sister?”

“Yes, he’s not clear in his mind. I’ll find a doctor and see about returning him to France.”

“Shall I go with you? He don’t appear dangerous to me, but you never know.” He looked Sergeant Larimore up and down. The Sergeant managed a lunatic grin. “He’s a big ’un, and it’s the quiet ones that go off their heads when you least expect it.”

“He’s too ill to hurt a fly,” I scoffed. “You may report that I take full responsibility.” Then turning to Sergeant Larimore at my heels, I said, “See what you’ve got me into. And don’t make that ridiculous noise again. This way.”

“Yes, Sister,” he replied meekly.

In single file we walked back down the row of huts, and then out through the port gates, no one stopping us, although I saw several faces turned our way, curiosity writ large. I couldn’t help but think that it would take all the Colonel Sahib’s authority to save me if this went wrong.

But the Sergeant loped behind me, head hung in contrition, looking like a lost soul in need of resurrection.

When we’d cleared the gates and were some one hundred paces farther along, he caught me up, saying in a very different tone of voice, “You must come with me. Quickly.”

“Where?”

“Not here.” We walked on into the town, avoiding the foot traffic and all the lorries that had finished unloading their cargo on the ships, their drivers looking now for breakfast before making the long drive back to London. We passed half a dozen officers who nodded to me and then looked askance at the man trailing me.

“Sergeant. We ought to get off the streets. I have a motorcar—”

“That hotel on the far corner. Do you see it?”

I did. A seedy hotel favored by ships’ crews and with something of an unsavory reputation.

“That’s where we’re heading.”

We covered the distance without mishap, and he led me in the door.

The woman behind the desk, her eyes sharp and knowing, said, “Hold on, I’ll have none of that here.”

I said in my best imitation of Matron, “We’ve come to fetch the Sergeant’s things. He’s ill, he ought to be in hospital.”

She turned her gaze to his face. “Anything catching?”

“I don’t know. The sooner he’s examined, the better. Now will you let us pass?”

She nodded, adding, “Just get him out of my hotel quick as may be.”

We climbed stairs tracked with muddy footprints.

“It was the best I could do,” he said softly. “They wouldn’t let me through the door of a decent place. Not like this.”

“I understand.”

We walked down a passage with bare floorboards and ill-painted doors to either side. Sergeant Larimore stopped at one of them, dug in his pocket for the key, and unlocked the door. “I’ll go first,” he said, and I let him, not knowing what lay ahead.

But it was only an empty room, the bedclothes a-tumble.

“There was a fire,” he said, turning to look at me. “Half the houses went up in flames. After you left, I’d been keeping an eye on Rue St. Catherine whenever I could slip out of hospital, and I was one of the first on the scene. I rescued as many people as I could before the roofs started to come down. Dry as tinder, those old houses, in spite of the rain we’ve had.”

I was watching his face, dawning horror drying up my throat.

“The nuns—did you see the nuns?” I couldn’t say anything else.

“They got out safely. I saw the elderly one. Her robes were singed about as bad as my uniform, but she was looking after her charges.”

“They made it out safely?” I asked. “All of them?”

“All of them. Only I got away with one of them.” He walked to the tumble of bedclothes, and I realized with something like shock that a small child was asleep in the cocoon of sheets.

I went to the bedside myself, gently pulled a corner of a coverlet away, and a strand of fair hair, bright as sunlight in the dingy room, caught in my fingers.

“Sergeant—you didn’t—you kidnapped her! The nuns will think she burned in the fire. They—they’ll be distraught!”

“It was the only chance to get her out of there,” he said, his voice still hoarse. “The house is rubble. What was I to do? Leave her to the French authorities to decide her future? Not likely! You would never find her again.”

It was so like Sergeant Larimore to have acted on the spur of the moment, when the opportunity came his way, knowing I was gravely concerned about this child’s fate. I couldn’t fault him—and yet I was horrified by the decision he’d made. What on earth was I to do about this?

He’d listened to every word I’d said about her, that was clear enough, and he remembered everything I’d told him about myself, or he’d never have known how to contact my mother. I couldn’t help but be amazed as well as shocked. He was the most extraordinary man.

He stood there while I took it all in, giving me time to come to terms with all that he’d just related to me.

I sighed. “What are we to do now?”

“I see it this way, Sister. You get me aboard a ship soon as may be, telling them I was out of my mind from a fire in an empty house where I’d wandered, and that I must be returned to the Base Hospital. And you take the little girl home. We both come out of this without any trouble. You still have leave, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—” I pictured Inspector Rother’s furious face. “Yes,” I said firmly.

He was right about his own situation. I had to get him safely back to France, I couldn’t let him be disciplined or put in any further jeopardy on my account.

“How did you smuggle her out of Rouen? She doesn’t know you.”

“I was clever. I took her to an American nurse, told her the child was frightened out of her wits—and that was true, as God is my witness!—and could she sedate her until I could find her family. Everyone knew about the fire. You could see the flames and then the smoke. It was dark, everything at sixes and sevens. I think she’s a little sweet on me, that nurse, and she gave the child something to calm her. She’s been sleeping like this ever since. Exhaustion as well as the drug. I went out to get some milk for her last night, and that’s when I was picked up. I was frantic something would happen to her while I was in custody.” He gestured to the door. “I had a key, for what it’s worth. But I had to take the chance, Sister. There wasn’t much choice.”

“But how did you get her aboard ship?”

“That was the easiest part. It was late, very dark, and there were a great many wounded being loaded. I slipped aboard when no one was looking and found a rope locker down below. When we landed I picked up a mop and a pail, and walked off with it in one hand and the little one wrapped up in an Army blanket and slung over my shoulder. We’d only just arrived when I telephoned your mother, and I found this hotel straightaway. I couldn’t help but think I might have been a German spy. There’s a frightening thought for you.”

“Yes, and you could well have been mistaken for one. And shot. It was a terrible risk. And what would they have said, if they’d found you with Sophie?”

“I’d have told them she was mine. That I’d taken her from her dead French mother and was carrying her to my English fiancée.” He grinned. “That’s you. Besides, I’m fair enough to make that believable.”

And he was.

“Sister Marie Joseph will be mourning her. They will all mourn her. I must take her back.”

“No such thing, Sister. She belongs here. And she’s young enough to settle in now. Wait until the war is over and the lawyers are finished, and it will be twice as hard for her. She’ll be right as rain, wait and see.”

But Roger Ellis
was
in England just now, and that complicated matters no end. I’d let him think I hadn’t found her. What would he say when I walked into Vixen Hill with her?

The Sergeant said gently, almost as if he realized the quandary I was in, “You can always take her back, if it doesn’t work out.”

And he was right, I could. But with what explanation?

“They don’t have to know she left France. Someone could have rescued her and kept her. She’s that pretty.”

And that was true too.

“All right.”

He pulled back the bedclothes, lifted Sophie like a bundle of old clothes, although his hands were gentle and he held her with care.

“Do you have children of your own?” I asked, watching him.

“God, no, Sister. I haven’t found the right wife yet.”

We went out the door, down the passage, and out into the street. I made a point of leaving the key on the desk at Reception.

Outside, he said, “You’d better hurry. She’s waking up.”

“Let me have her.”

“Not yet. She’s heavier than you’d think.”

But he gave her to me when we reached the port again, and I walked along the water until I found a ship bound for Rouen. There was a nursing sister mopping up blood from the deck as we came aboard, and I said, “Sister, I’ve got a patient here. He’s not right in his mind. Somehow he got sent to England with the latest casualties because of his burns, but he belongs at the Base Hospital in Rouen. Can you see him safely back there? My leave is just starting, I’d hate to lose it.”

She straightened up, massaging her back. I knew how it must hurt after a night voyage from France.

“Base Hospital, you said? Rouen? Is he an American?”

“No, he was there being treated. He was collected with the other casualties by mistake. He’s safe enough, he just has no idea where he is or how he got here. He’ll sit quietly until you tell him to disembark.”

It took some persuasion. I didn’t think she wanted to be encumbered by a patient on the return crossing, when she could spend the time catching up on her sleep. But Sergeant Larimore was a tall, attractive man, and that was in his favor. I could read that in her face too.

I said, “He’s no trouble. Just confused and uncertain. Will you see him safely back?”

“Just starting your leave, you said? Where did you find him?”

“Walking the streets of Dover. Fortunately I recognized him. A pathetic case, really, I don’t know if he’ll ever be entirely right. But he’s gentle. I’ve had no trouble with him.”

Sophie stirred in her bundle of wraps.

“Who’s that?” the sister said, peering into the little face that was emerging.

“My goddaughter. I really must go. Her mother will be frantic by now. I was just taking Sophie for a walk when I ran into the Sergeant here.”

“All right, I’ll see him safely back to base.” She looked him up and down. “Was he in a fire?”

I shrugged. “How should I know? When I left him, he was clean, shaven, and quiet.”

“Not shell shock, is it?”

“No. I swear to you it isn’t shell shock.” That I could state with complete truthfulness.

She must have believed me. Ordering Sergeant Larimore below, she told him, “I’ll sort you out in a few minutes.”

“He’ll need something to eat,” I reminded her. “I don’t know when he last had a meal. He can’t remember.”

I followed him to the companionway, as if making sure he went below, saying to him in a low voice, “If there’s any trouble, send for me.”

“I’ll do that, Sister. Although I think I’ve earned the right to call you Bess now.” He grinned, cast a quick look around the empty deck, and then before I could stop him, he stooped and kissed me on the lips. Then he was gone.

I looked after him, hoping he’d be all right, and then carried the wriggling bundle in my arms off the ship and out of the port. Sophie was beginning to whimper, and I hurried to the Major’s motorcar, making what soothing sounds I could. The sun was well over the horizon by that time, winter bright and blinding as it created a golden path across the water.

What was I to do now? I asked myself as I turned the crank.

Where was I to take her? To my mother? To Vixen Hill?