A Rose in No-Man's Land (5 page)

He closed his eyes as if trying to blot out the pain of his shattered, youthful dreams.

“Maryanne was beautiful, a little on the highly strung side, but it didn’t stop us from being happy. She had always been close to her brother David, a chronic gambler. Her love for him bordered on obsession.”

“You don’t need to tell me all of this if it’s too painful.” Instinctively she picked up his hand and held it, trying to convey the sympathy she couldn’t put into words.

He didn’t seem to hear her protest or feel her touch, just went on speaking in a low, tortured monotone.

“After I sailed, she kept giving David money. Like a sponge he soaked it up. When I returned from South Africa, I put a stop to it.

“Maryanne pleaded with me to pay his debts. When this didn’t work, she banned me from her bed until I got desperate enough to bail him out again. It didn’t take long for me to realize he would eventually bankrupt me. Finally, when I refused point blank to pay off any more creditors, he killed himself.”

“How awful,” she whispered, unclenching his fingers and massaging them.

“Maryanne went berserk with grief, blaming me, of course. I tried to be understanding, give her time to recover. As the months passed, she became more volatile and unstable. Vowed never to be a wife to me again.”

His voice dropped so low she dipped her head closer to hear him. “She said if I ever wanted my conjugal rights again I would have to rape her, and if I gave her a child she would destroy it. Her sister Louise moved into our house, and she was even more vicious and unstable than Maryanne. They made my life a living hell.”

He had gone through purgatory because of them, and as the months passed their evil tentacles gripped him more tightly. He wondered why the pain and hopelessness didn’t spill out of his mouth and splash on the carpet.

“I walked out of a house that had been in my family for more than two hundred years and have barely set foot in it since.”

“I don’t understand. Why can’t you get married again, if your wife is dead?”

“I’m not the only person this affects. Amy, please believe me, I can’t tell you why, but if I could marry you without putting others in jeopardy, I would.”

Amy’s shoulders slumped. “I’m tired. You’re talking in riddles. I think I’ll go to bed.” She scrubbed at a wayward tear. He didn’t want her love. Didn’t want a future with her.

“Wait, please.” Catching up with her before she reached the door, he pulled her into his arms. “I can’t bear to think of you crying.”

Her tears fell, soaking into his jacket as he held her. “My darling girl, I’ve traveled the world searching for happiness, and now I’ve found it, I can’t have it.” Because fate and Maryanne had transpired against him. He wanted to tell Amy the whole truth but dared not. Edwina’s life depended on him keeping silent. “It would be best if I leave tomorrow.”

“No. No, don’t go. I couldn’t bear it. This time belongs to us. It’s all we’ve got.”

They stood in silence, neither speaking, just soaking up the atmosphere of each other’s company. Mark’s hand was gentle as he stroked her cheek. “Time for us to retire for the night, my lovely girl,” he whispered.

He escorted her up the passageway and, outside her bedroom, cupped her face in his hands and tenderly kissed her trembling lips.

After Amy went to bed, she lay there churning things over in her mind. Why would someone’s life be in jeopardy if he married again? The determination in his voice told her that he would never tell her the full story. Was it just an excuse to avoid re-marrying? He had sounded sincere, so sad and hopeless. More likely he feared being hurt again and thought it unmanly to admit it. Could she make him truly fall in love with her? Show him that she wasn’t vicious like Maryanne and her evil sister? With the black clouds of war gathering above their heads, would it be wrong to take what happiness they could?

Chapter 3

The Gray Army, as the Australian nurses were now known, left Melbourne on the twentieth of October, 1914, aboard a troop ship. The soldiers marched through the streets of Melbourne, cheered on by milling crowds of well-wishers. On the wharves, hundreds of others waited to see them sail.

By October twenty-fourth, ships from all over Australia and New Zealand had assembled at King George Sound in the harbor of Albany, Western Australia. Some of the officers went on leave, but Amy was confined below decks with an attack of seasickness so severe even dosing herself up with Mothersill did not ease it. When this mighty armada finally sailed, it comprised thirty-six transports and three cruisers.

On trembling legs, Amy staggered up on deck. The pitching of the ship exacerbated her nausea and made her head spin.
Don’t look down
.
Look straight ahead. Take deep breaths
. She was squashed against the ship’s rail as soldiers jostled each other for a good vantage point for their final glimpse of the Australian coastline.

She clung to the rail and stared straight ahead. The green of the gum trees turned to a misty gray before fading into the distance. Coal smoke from the funnels spiraled upwards, then trailed behind them like a dirty black ribbon. Waves crashed against the ship. No gentle swell in these waters now. They had quickly reached the open sea.

Guy and Mark’s battalion had left Broadmeadows a day after the nurses did. Guy’s laughing farewell on the dock before she sailed still rang in her ears. “See you in France or maybe Egypt. I don’t care which.” He had given her a bear hug, and as she went up the gangplank she turned around for one final wave, but he had been swallowed up by a cheering crowd.

Oh, Mark. How she longed to see him and feel the touch of his hand. She squeezed her eyes shut, parted her lips, and almost believed she could taste his mouth once more.

He had deliberately stayed away from her once they returned to camp. It was so hard acting like mere acquaintances. Their few days together on the farm had been hell and heaven all rolled into one.

She clenched the railing until the wood bit into her hand, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the pain weighing down her heart. She had fleetingly glimpsed Mark’s fiery passion and been burned by it. It had seared her soul and destroyed her chances of ever finding happiness with another man. The love she had felt for Guy paled into insignificance.

On the night before she embarked, Mark had sent a single red rosebud to her room. She could almost smell its perfume, the sweet heady scent of a freshly picked flower. Sealed in an envelope was a gold-edged card with the words, “For the loveliest rose of all, who will bloom in my heart forever.” She put the rose in a vase beside her bed that night, then pressed it between the pages of her father’s Bible before leaving Broadmeadows army camp the following morning.

“I wonder how long it will be before we see Australia again?” Jane’s voice intruded on her thoughts.

“I don’t know. Six months? A year?” Amy shrugged, studiously staring out to sea so no one would notice her tear-stained cheeks.

“Some of us won’t be seeing Australia again.” Amy swung around on hearing Millie’s voice. Not a vestige of color remained in her best friend’s face, and her eyes held a strange transiency.

Icy fingers of fear played a chord up and down Amy’s spine. “Were you able to meet Dick when you went ashore?” she asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

“Yes. He’s sorry he enlisted, and so am I.”

Amy touched her friend’s hand.

Blue-green waves. A never-ending, churning, and restless vista, merging with the sky in the distance. She turned her head to watch some of the other ships in the convoy. Which one contained Mark and Guy?

“Captain Tremayne seems rather keen on Ella,” Jane remarked.

“Oh?” Amy tried not to show it, but jealousy curdled her stomach even though she didn’t have the right. Mark had offered her little and promised her nothing.

“They went on leave together.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Millie snapped. “A whole group of nurses and officers went. I think your cousin might have been there, as well.”

“Guy?” Amy queried.

“Mm, young, fair, laughs a lot.”

“Yes, that’s him.”

A casual, relaxed camaraderie prevailed on board ship, even though the nurses were supposed to be segregated from enlisted men. Impossible to police, except at night when they posted pickets outside the female sleeping quarters.

“We’re in just as much danger from the officers as the troops. They’re all men,” Millie said.

Amy merely nodded.

****

On arrival in Egypt, they were sent to Mena Hospital, which adjoined the Australian Imperial Force camp. Under the shadows of the pyramids, Amy met Mark for the first time since leaving Australia.

“Mark!” She forced herself not to dash into his arms.

“How’s my lovely girl?” he whispered, drawing them away from several other sightseeing nurses and officers. “You feel and smell beautiful, just like I remember.”

She boldly kissed him on the mouth, wanting him to know how glad she was to see him. How she had missed him. He broke the kiss and inhaled a ragged breath. She rubbed her cheek against his jacket and said. “I feared I might never see you again.”

“I promised myself I’d stay away from you, but now I’ve seen you again, I can’t.”

His words were music to her ears. He had missed her, wanted to be with her. Well, almost. “Have you got leave for Christmas, Mark?”

She tried to sound brave, but her trembling lips would most probably betray her.

“Yes.”

“Me too. Guy, Millie, and I decided to spend a few days exploring Cairo. You could come with us.”

“Guy did mention it. Is Millie the one engaged to the Light Horse chap?”

“Yes, Dick isn’t getting leave, and she’s upset about it. They’ve gone shopping today. Some of the Egyptian embroidery is beautiful, so they’re stocking up for when they get married.”

“You didn’t come out here alone, I hope?”

“No, I’m with some of the other nurses and a doctor friend.”

“Doctor friend?”

Amy watched angry color deepen the tan on Mark’s face. “You’re jealous,” she teased.

“Yes, damn it, even if I don’t have the right.”

“Major Vincent is about fifty, married, with several children, so he volunteered to act as our chaperone.”

“As long as his interest is only paternal,” Mark growled.

His face, burned to mahogany by the hot desert sun, caused his eyes to stand out more brilliantly blue than ever before. Her man, even if it was only for a short time. No harm in pretending.

“Let me escort you back to the hospital.” He glanced over to where Major Vincent haggled with a grubby little urchin selling oranges.

“I’m off duty until tomorrow morning.”

“Have you ridden a camel yet?” he asked with a grin.

“No.”

“Would you like to, my lovely Amy?”

“Yes, please.”

“See your doctor friend while I rustle us up a couple of mounts.”

Amy hurried off, calling out as she did so. “Major Vincent.”

“Yes, Sister Amy.” The doctor’s round, chubby face broke into a smile, deepening the wrinkles about his eyes.

“I…I’ve met an officer friend from Australia. He’s promised to escort me safely back to the hospital.”

“Oh, I see.”

“We’re going for a camel ride.”

“Well, in that case…” The doctor chuckled. “My offer of a stroll around the pyramids sounds tame in comparison. You will be careful where you go.”

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be careful. Captain Tremayne is a gentleman.”

“Do nothing to tarnish your reputation, my dear. Even the slightest whiff of scandal could ruin you.”

She forced herself not to skip back to where Mark haggled with a heavily robed Arab.

“Need an escort, Sister?” A grinning young orderly from the hospital asked.

“No, thank you. Captain Tremayne has appointed himself my protector.”

While Mark spoke with the Arab, Amy watched with a feeling of trepidation as several young soldiers started climbing one of the pyramids. She hoped she wouldn’t have to deal with their broken limbs or heat stroke.

“Ready?” Smiling, Mark strode over to her. “I’ve struck a deal with Saleem here. He’ll take us out to a small oasis where some of his people are camped.”

“Can we trust him?” She sized up the tall Arab dubiously. His white robes looked spotlessly clean, a refreshing change from the usual grubby individuals who begged and cadged for baksheesh around the hospital.

“I think so.” His grin smoothed out the lines gouging either side of his jaw.

Mark helped her mount one of three camels. When her steed got to its feet she tried not to shriek out loud because the ground seemed miles away. Mark mounted almost as nimbly as the Arab did, and sat his mount with a cool, straight-backed confidence.

“You’ve done this before,” she accused, with laughter giving a lilt to her voice.

“I’ve been practicing so you would be impressed by my expertise.”

“Everything about you impresses me, Captain Tremayne.” She tried to sound lofty but spoilt it all by giggling.

The Arab said nothing, just rode with a proud brooding silence. Sand, miles and miles of it, shimmered under a fierce relentless sun that scorched everything it contacted. No wonder there had been so many cases of heat exhaustion. The week before, a young soldier had died in hospital from sunstroke after collapsing on a route march.

“Why do you officers keep forcing the soldiers out on those desert marches in full kit?” she demanded. “We’ve been treating at least a dozen sunstroke cases a day.”

“Don’t blame the officers in the field, Amy. We’re only obeying orders from the armchair generals cosseted at British Head Quarters in Cairo.”

“Our colonel has sent in an official complaint to General Bridges.”

“It’s bloody ridiculous.”

She nearly fell off the camel when Saleem spoke with an upper-class English accent. “You speak English?”

“Yes, Sister, I do.”

“Educated at Oxford, no less.” Mark grinned.

“You pair of wretches. Here am I thinking we were being guided by some uneducated savage.” She smiled at Saleem, so he’d know she was joking.