A Song in the Night (35 page)

She exhaled slowly with a weariness that seemed to come from her bones.
Life’s not that simple, Jonathon. Not my life anyway.
A sudden sense of despair swept over her and she sat bolt upright as panic threatened to grip her again.
Man, I’m losing it. I’m cracking up … I must be.

She instinctively reached for her laptop. She had to e-mail Jonathon. Just to make contact. If she couldn’t visit, at least she could do that. No. What was she thinking of? He’d think she was desperate. He might even think she was coming onto him.
Hang on a minute … .
She quickly scrambled for the diary and found her page. Surely this was a reasonable excuse for getting in touch? Her hands were trembling as she tried to prop the book open.
Come on, girl, get a grip.

Tuileries November17th 1916

I think perhaps I will not write very much this evening, Emily. We’re back on the front line and the Bosch are giving us a merry time, but tonight I feel oddly detached from the whole business. I’m strangely weak; ill I fear. Hardly surprising when we stand for hours in these temperatures, knee-deep in water at times. I must try to keep going, Em, but I’m not sure how much longer my legs will hold me upright. My mind keeps drifting. Memories assail me, memories of our beloved England. How I wish we could all be back there. I find myself thinking of that day we left the village for the training barracks. Could it really have been only eighteen months ago? I have seen so much since then …

“You alright, Sam?” Boxer was counting out Mills’ bombs as he shot his mate a look of concern.

Sam sighed heavily and pushed his notebook back into his bag. “I dunno. I’m not sure how I feel.” Except for a bone-gnawing weariness that was steadily creeping through his whole body, and a throat so dry it felt like he’d spent the last week in a desert. His head was hurting too, and his skin was hot to touch. It certainly wasn’t on account of the warm weather.

“You ought to see the MO, Sam,” interjected Jimmy. “You look pretty rough to me.”

“How can you tell in this light?” Sam tried to laugh, but it seemed to make him ache all over. “I don’t think any of us look like oil paintings when it’s nearly pitch black.”

“Maybe not.” Jimmy’s voice was low as he drew on his cigarette. “But the rest of us aren’t hobbling about like old women.”

Seeing a wry smile pass over Boxer’s face, Sam tried to straighten up. He was beginning to feel terrible.

“Egg and brandy!” Twinny Two’s voice hissed through the darkness.

“Eh?” someone else retorted sharply.

“Raw egg and brandy. Best medicine when you’re nursing a cold.”

Twinny One started to snigger. “You remember that time we tried it at home with that bottle of Dad’s?”

“Oh yeah … and me hand slipped,” Twinny Two recalled. “Got a right whippin’ for that, didn’t we?”

The two brothers began to chortle like naughty schoolboys. Sam ran his hand over his forehead. What wouldn’t he do for a drop of brandy right now? A sniper’s bullet whistled through the blackness, followed a split second later by an agonised scream from the latrine just ahead.

“Poor beggar, whoever he is,” Jimmy growled, stubbing out his cigarette. It was a fact of life; relieving oneself could be a very risky business. A clatter of gunfire came from behind them and echoed across no man’s land.

“Looks like our lads are returning the favour,” Boxer said grimly.

But Sam hardly cared. By now he was feeling so awful that he would have gladly lain down in the trench and let someone shoot him. A new volley of fire opened up between the two sides. Flares lit up the sky as a burst of machine gunfire raked the ground.

“Not a good time to go to the lav,” Twinny One winked at Sam. “Otherwise it’ll take more than eggs and ruddy brandy to bring you round.”

Sam hardly knew what happened next. He had just forced a grin in reply when there was a sudden explosion a few yards ahead of their position. The parapet itself took most of the shrapnel, but the impact of the shell’s blast blew in the front wall of the trench with remarkable force. Sam groaned as a mountain of sodden soil buried him. The last thing he knew was the taste of earth in his mouth and then, blackness.

***********************

“His temperature’s still rising, Doctor.” The young nurse lays another strip of wet fabric on the patient’s forehead.

The doctor places a hand on the sick man’s burning cheek and frowns. “The next few hours will be crucial. It’s clear this man was ill before he ever took a hit. His injuries are fairly superficial.” He glances around the gloomy ward, his face furrowing as he surveys its other pitiful occupants. “Do your best for him, Nurse Parker. This is one that could be saved – unlike some of these other poor wretches.”

This was the day Sam had been waiting for. Today he would leave everything he had ever known and start out on a journey to somewhere he’d never been before, somewhere he’d never even dreamed of going. Going abroad was for the rich, for those with means. Yet here he was, little old Sam, off on the adventure of a lifetime. Of course there were things he didn’t want to leave behind. His family for one. And Emily. Still, it wouldn’t be for long. And then what stories he would have to tell. There were eight of them leaving from the village. They would walk into the next two hamlets, meet up with the other new recruits, and then travel together by rail to the training barracks in London.

“He’s burning up, Sister …”

The older nurse shakes her head sadly. “I think we’re going to lose this one, Nurse Parker. Influenza is difficult to fight when the body is already weakened. He won’t be the first we’ve lost to it.” She strides down the ward and disappears out of a side door.

“Come on, Sam!” The young nurse checks his pulse again. “Come on – fight it! Think of all those back home who love you. Don’t die, Sam. Dear God, touch this man. Spare his life, I pray.”

The village band was on fine form today. They marched respectfully behind the little group of recruits, their instruments sounding glorious in the warm sunshine. It seemed that the entire village had turned out for the occasion. Fathers saluted proudly as the procession passed by, whilst mothers waved handkerchiefs and fought back tears. Little children clutched flags as they gazed admiringly at these brave young men who were off to defend their country, and village maidens twirled ribbons and smiled coyly, hoping to catch the eye of their favourite recruit. Of course, Sam only had eyes for Emily. He hadn’t seen her yet, but he was sure he would. Somewhere along the route, he knew she would be there. He caught sight of his own mother and father standing with a group outside the village church. They looked quietly proud, though Sam knew his mother well enough to know that this would be the hardest day of her life. Nobody was saying anything, but everyone was aware of the casualty lists coming back from the front. Sam heard a voice shouting to him from the crowd. His younger sister, Kitty, was blowing kisses to him in her unabashed, childlike way. For a moment, a lump came to his throat.

They walked out of the village and along dusty country roads towards the next settlement. The band still followed, and by now, several villagers had tagged onto the procession. They passed hedgerows, streams, and fields that stretched out as far as the eye could see.

“Look at that!” A young man at Sam’s side pointed into the sky. Hovering high in the pure blue was a skylark. The young man stopped and turned to the bandmaster. “Sir, could we lads listen to yon lark a moment? Perhaps in weeks to come it’ll remind us of what we’re fighting for.”

The bandmaster signalled to the players and they quickly fell silent. All that could be heard was a rich, chirruping song that seemed to fill the whole countryside as the bird soared higher into the sky. For several moments everyone stood still, mesmerised by the creature, each person lost in their own thoughts. By the time the lark eventually made its plunge to earth, a sense of contemplation had come over the whole gathering.

It was then that Sam saw Emily. She was standing by the roadside with a little group of folk from her own village, and her eyes were fixed on him. As the procession began again, Sam moved over to the edge of the road, an urgency gripping his heart. He stepped aside and looked into her eyes. “I’m so glad to see you before I go, Emily.”

Emily laid a hand gently on his arm. “I’m coming out myself soon, Sam.”

Sam frowned. How he wished these few moments could last forever. “I don’t understand.”

“As a nurse. I’ve applied and I’ve been accepted.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Be careful, Emily.” It was all he dared say, though his heart ached to say so much more.

“And you, Sam.”

Sam could see that the procession had left him behind. His mind was torn. Should he declare his feelings? It was hardly the place. For a few seconds he stood staring at her, his heart racing, his mouth unable to speak. Then the moment passed. He gave a brief smile. “Goodbye, Emily. See you when we both get home.”

As Emily smiled gently back at him, Sam turned and began to walk briskly towards his friends. He had to make sure he got home now.

“I think he might have turned the corner, Doctor. Would you be able to take a look at him?” The young nurse runs the back of her hand over Sam’s forehead. The raging fever has abated at last and the skin is cool.

The doctor seems pleasantly surprised. “Well done, Nurse. I was beginning to think we’d lost this one. I daresay it’ll be a good few weeks before he’s fit to go back out though.”

The young nurse inwardly sighs. What a shame to be sent back out at all, having just come through the fight of his life. What a senseless war.

Sam opened his eyes. Where was he? For a few moments he blinked as he tried to remember. He ran his hands along the sheets.
Sheets?
He was in a proper bed!

“Hello, Sam. How are you feeling?” The young nurse smiled down at him. She was plump and not pretty at all. Yet to Sam in that moment, she was one of the loveliest sights he’d ever seen.

“I’m
alive …!
”

“Yes, Sam, by the skin of your teeth you are.” She grinned at him. “You came pretty close. But God was smiling down on you.”

Sam closed his eyes again and tried to breathe deeply. His chest felt tight and sore. “Am I wounded?”

“No, not badly. You’ve been very sick with influenza. You were buried in a shell blast but your friends managed to get you out before you suffocated.”

Good old Boxer,
thought Sam gratefully.
Good old Jimmy – and the Twinnies.
“What happens now?”

“Doctor Ross will see you in a little while and explain everything to you …”

Carlesands January 11th 1917

… That’s how I came to be here, Em, back home on extended leave. I’ve been ill for about eight weeks (spent Christmas in hospital, can you believe?) Doctor Ross said it was a miracle I pulled through. My chest was in a terrible way and I’ve lost so much weight, my poor mother nearly fainted when she first saw me. She’s been busy trying to fatten me up before they send me back out again. One of the nurses who looked after me – Milly Parker her name was – told me she prayed for me every day I was in the hospital. It seems that someone up there was looking out for me. Happily, I’m well on the road to recovery now.

Sitting here in the comfort of my home, it’s hard to believe the slaughter that’s going on just over the water. I think of my pals out there – and you, Emily, brave girl. I find I can’t bring myself to talk to folk here about what’s going on. Somehow I don’t think they would believe it. They would imagine our tales to be foolish bravado, or exaggerated nonsense. Sitting here by my fireside, I can almost pretend it to be so myself. But we know the truth, Em, don’t we? Whatever happens in the end, we’ll both know what really went on out there. There’s just one thing I regret. That day on the roadside, how I wish I’d told you how I felt. Having come so close to death, I now realise, more than I ever did, just how much you mean to me. You were in my every dream, my every restless thought … .

____________

Rosie filed the entries and went onto e-mail.

Hi Jonathon –

Just a bit more for you. Hope everything’s okay up there. Must confess, I’m still struggling to settle back into things down here. Yorkshire has a lot to answer for. Was it Samuel Johnson who said ‘When a man is tired of London, he is tired of Life’? I wonder if he was out of his mind.

Bye for now

Rosie

She sent the e-mail and closed her laptop. A solitary tear splashed onto its lid.

Out of his mind? Even if he wasn’t, I’m pretty sure I soon will be.

“You’re
what?
” Rosie didn’t want to believe what she was hearing.

“Please, Ros. Make this easy for me.” Ciaran hung his head miserably and Rosie bit her lip.

“When did all this come about?” She forced her voice to be calm.

“We spoke last night. It was Michael Romily and some counsellor woman who primed me about it just before I went in to see her. She broke down when I mentioned it on the ward. I think she feels bad uprooting me and everything. But I’m past caring about anything like that.” Ciaran stared blankly out of Rosie’s bedroom window.

Rosie’s hands were trembling.
Left down here without Ciaran and Beth?
The thought made her feel sick to the pit of her stomach. “What about the house? Where will you live afterwards?”
Afterwards?
Flinching at her own insensitivity, she wanted to pull the words straight back into her mouth.

But Ciaran seemed not to have noticed the inference. “I saw Ed and Cassie this morning. They’ve offered to keep the house on for me – rent and everything. I’ll have to give up all my teaching for the moment. Guess the money will dry up pretty quick.”

Rosie frowned. “And the orchestra?”

Ciaran shrugged. “I’m sure Emmett will save my place if I want it.”

“If you
want
it?” A shiver of alarm went through Rosie. “You can’t give up on your music, Kitch. Beth would never want that.”