Flora's War (21 page)

‘There you are then!’ Eddie beamed. ‘He’s alive! He’s got to be somewhere in Cairo. He’s probably in one of the rest camps, or a hospital.’

I was stunned. I felt as if a piano had been dropped on me. I managed to thank Eddie and Nobby, who were clearly convinced they’d brought me the greatest news since Moses told the Israelites that they
could
cross the Red Sea. They left, still beaming, and I sat on the terrace, actually with my mouth hanging open.

I had so many questions. Jay was alive. Then why hadn’t he written for months? If he was in Cairo, why hadn’t he contacted me? Either he’d changed his mind about becoming engaged or there was something wrong. From the way he’d been writing just before his letters stopped coming, I was almost sure something was very wrong. Should I try to find him? Why? I asked myself. I didn’t want to be engaged to him; the easiest thing was to just leave things alone. But if there was something seriously wrong … Surely I should try to find him.

I decided to ask Gwen’s advice.

‘Let it be,’ she said firmly. ‘Forget it.’

‘But –’

‘Look, you didn’t want to be engaged to him. He stopped writing. That gives you a perfect way out. You don’t even have to feel guilty, because he’s alive, and from the sounds of it he’s a hero.’

‘But –’

Gwen sighed. ‘You’re not going to just let this go, are you?’ she said. ‘An ideal escape from a sticky situation, and you aren’t going to take it.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘No. I can’t.’

Chapter 17

I consulted Mr Khalid.

‘If I wanted to contact a soldier who’d just returned from Gallipoli and I didn’t know where he was, how would I go about it?’ I asked, trying to sound casual.

We were at the excavation. After months of driving wounded men and assisting on the wards I was finally getting on with drawing and cataloguing. There was a lot of work to catch up on.

Mr Khalid regarded me gravely. ‘You want to find someone important? Someone special?’ he asked.

I picked up a little shabti figure I was attempting to draw, inspected it closely, put it down again.

‘No, not really,’ I said, not looking at him. ‘Just a friend.’

‘I see,’ said Mr Khalid. I was rather afraid he did. I’d never told anyone but Gwen about Jay, but Mr Khalid always seemed to know everything.

‘If you can provide me with his name, his troop number and anything else you know, I will see what can be discovered,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’ I took a piece of paper and wrote down what I knew. I still wasn’t sure this was a good idea and I hesitated before I handed the paper to Mr Khalid. But it didn’t commit me to anything, I thought, even if Mr Khalid did manage to locate Jay. And he mightn’t be able to, after all.

But of course he did. The next day Mr Khalid visited the excavation and informed me that my – significant pause –
friend
had been located.

‘Oh really?’ I said. I concentrated on my drawing. ‘That’s good. Um, where is he, then?’

‘His name is on the list of those admitted to the Nile Palace hospital,’ said Mr Khalid. ‘There is no record of his discharge, so it is to be assumed he is still being treated there.’

‘I see,’ I said. ‘Thank you. Perhaps I might visit sometime. If I can find a spare moment, you know.’

‘Indeed,’ said Mr Khalid, looking at the sketch I was working on. It wasn’t until he left that I realised I’d drawn the same little shabti twice.

…

I didn’t want to go alone to the Nile Palace. I wanted some moral back up. Gwen would come with me, of course, but I suddenly thought I wanted more. I wanted Frank to be there. He was older and sensible – just the person to have along. It meant, of course, telling him about the situation. I didn’t know how he’d react. I went to Shepheard’s to see them.

Frank laughed his head off. ‘Oh my,’ he said, wiping his eyes. ‘I thought it was only Gwen who got herself into scrapes like this. You’re a constant amazement to me, Flora.’

He thought it was amusing? Just
amusing
? I’d rather hoped he might have been put out, even a little jealous, to discover that I’d been kissing someone. But it appeared he wasn’t.

‘It’s not really funny,’ I said stiffly, my voice low, aware of all the people surrounding us in Shepheard’s lounge.

‘Certainly not from Jay’s point of view,’ said Frank. ‘Maybe he changed his mind about becoming engaged and just stopped writing?’

‘That’s what Gwen thinks,’ I said. ‘I wish it was like that! But no, from the way he’d been writing I know his affections weren’t … cooling. So when the letters stopped, I assumed –’ I swallowed. ‘I assumed the worst.’

I’d read Jay’s letters over again. I was sure he hadn’t simply cooled off. I showed Frank the photograph Jay had sent me.

‘Which one is he?’ Frank asked.

‘That one,’ I said. I pointed to Jay.

‘Mmm, it’s not a very clear photograph,’ said Frank. ‘But he seems a nice enough looking chap. And interested in archaeology, I believe? He sounds just right for you, Flora. Are you sure you want to get out of it?’ He grinned at me. ‘You might never get a better offer.’

‘I’m not after any offers!’ I snapped. Then I calmed down, Frank was teasing, as usual.

‘Will you and Gwen come with me to the hospital?’ I asked. ‘If I go to see him tomorrow?’

‘You can rely on us,’ said Frank. ‘Your other two musketeers. Your trusty confederates. Your –’

I could feel the hot ache of tears in my throat. I really didn’t want to do this, but I felt I had to. My conscience wouldn’t let it rest. Bother my conscience. I hated my conscience!

Frank noticed my distress. ‘Here, here,’ he said. ‘It’ll be all right.’ He felt in his pocket and handed me a handkerchief. ‘We’ll be with you all the way.’

‘Thank you.’ I sniffed.

As I was leaving, Frank took me aside for a moment. ‘Flora,’ he said quietly.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m very glad you’re not engaged.’

…

The next day I climbed into the back seat of Gwen’s motorcar, clutching a basket with the kind of small gifts I normally took to a hospital. I didn’t know what reception I might get from Jay. He mightn’t want to know me. If necessary I could just leave the magazines, fruit and chocolate and go. I’d look like any ordinary volunteer hospital visitor.

Since the withdrawal of troops, there were no queues of ambulances and motorcars where the trains pulled in. There were still trains, but they came infrequently and they delivered supplies rather than wounded. Now the Nile Palace wasn’t so busy, it had been tidied up. The drive at the front was quiet; the marble steps were washed and gleaming white again.

We walked up the stairs and into the entrance hall. There were no wounded soldiers lying on the floor now, in fact there was a smart reception desk. But there was no one manning it. I stopped an orderly, pushing a patient in a wheelchair, and asked him on which ward I’d find Lieutenant Hunter.

‘I’m not sure. Enquiries aren’t really my job.’ He glanced at his patient. ‘Are you all right for a moment, mate?’ The soldier nodded, so the orderly took a quick look at the lists on the desk. ‘Hunter. Here it is. Third floor.’

‘You can come and visit me next, if you like,’ offered the soldier as the orderly pushed him away. He gave me a cheeky wink.

I smiled after him. ‘I’ll try to do that,’ I said.

‘Do you want us to come up with you?’ asked Gwen.

‘I think I’d best go by myself,’ I said. ‘If he’s all right, I’ll come and get you and we can all see him.’

‘Come and get us right away if you need us,’ said Frank.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘I think.’

I started up the wide staircases, wondering if it was such a good idea to go alone. I reached the top of the second flight of stairs, looked around to get my bearings, and started down a corridor. Butterflies seemed to be dancing a turkey trot in my stomach.

Here, the way seemed familiar. I slowed. Gwen and I had come this way before, I was sure. Oh no, the
third
floor. I went on slowly, step, step. This was the corridor we’d run down to find a doctor. A few more steps. This was the place where Gwen had slid down the wall, saying she just couldn’t do this anymore. Step. Step. The closed door I was standing outside led to the ward where boys sat and stared, and shook uncontrollably, and ripped off bandages and screamed.

I hadn’t admitted it to myself but I’d known, deep inside me, that something had been going very wrong with Jay. I knew this was the ward where I’d find him.

I stood before the closed door. I could go back and get Frank and Gwen. Or I could just walk out the front door and never come here again. But I
needed
to go in. I raised my hand and tapped on the door.

No one answered. There was no sound from behind the door. Perhaps this ward was empty now? Oh, I hoped it was! I turned the knob and pushed the door half open.

The ward wasn’t empty. It wasn’t completely silent, but it was quiet. At least, I thought, no one was screaming. Several soldiers were sitting on their beds, staring blankly in front of them. One was pacing up and down the room, shuffling in his slippers, pacing and pacing. Another was shredding a handkerchief, head down, tearing it slowly into tiny strips. My eyes slid over them. No Jay. He wasn’t here.

Thank heaven! I thought. It’s a mistake. He’s not on this ward at all. He’s somewhere else. Oh, thank heaven!

The nurse on the ward finished dealing with one of her patients and saw me. She straightened up, holding a bowl of water in her hands. ‘Did you want to see someone?’ she asked. ‘Are you a hospital visitor?’

‘Yes,’ I said. My lips felt stiff; it was hard to shape the words. ‘Yes, I am a volunteer visitor, but I’ve come to see Jay – I mean, Lieutenant Hunter. But I see he’s not here.’

‘Lieutenant Hunter? Yes, he’s on this ward. Right over there.’ She glanced at the bowl in her hands. ‘Look, I must get rid of this. Just give me a moment.’

She hurried off and I looked slowly around the ward again. What’s wrong with her? I thought. Jay’s not here. I can see he’s not here.

And then a voice called out.

‘Flora?’

I looked around. It was the handkerchief-shredding soldier. His face, totally blank only a moment ago, intent on shredding the handkerchief, had lit up. ‘Flora, you came! Flora!’

What? Why was he calling me? I didn’t know him, I’d never seen him before, he wasn’t Jay –

‘Flora!’

And it hit me, hard as a slap to the back to the head. He
was
Jay, he was Lieutenant James Hunter. But he wasn’t the Jay I’d been picturing for months, the Jay whose face I’d been looking at in the photograph. I’d chosen the wrong man in the photograph. I’d been picturing one face – and this was a different one.

I stared at him, and I could feel myself falling apart. I took a step back. I couldn’t believe it. I’d chosen the wrong man in the photograph! I turned and fled, and I could hear his voice calling after me, ‘Flora! Don’t go, please don’t go!’

I ran down the stairs as if something horrible was chasing me. I stumbled up to Frank and Gwen. They took a look at me, grabbed my arms, sat me in a chair.

‘Whatever’s wrong?’

‘What on earth did he say to you?’

‘He didn’t say anything!’ I gasped. ‘Well, he did, but it’s not him! It’s not Jay! At least it
is
, but –’

‘
What
?’

It took me a few minutes to compose myself. ‘I chose the wrong man in the photograph.’ I put my face in my hands. ‘I can’t believe I could do that. I can’t believe I could walk around the Sphinx with him, and – and – kiss him – and then not know his face in a photograph. That he – he could mean so little that I couldn’t even recognise his face –’

Frank was looking blank. Gwen filled him in. ‘It was a dark night and we’d all had champagne. And you’d only ever seen him in the distance before, Flora, remember.’

I nodded. My head was still in my hands and I didn’t think I ever wanted to lift it up again. I was so ashamed.

‘But,’ said Frank, ‘he’s still the person you wrote to? And he knew you? And he was pleased to see you?’

‘Oh yes,’ I said. ‘Yes.’ I looked up at Frank. ‘I have to go back, don’t I?’

‘I think you do,’ said Frank gently.

‘Yes, of course I do. Just give me a moment.’ I took several deep breaths. I looked around. ‘I had a basket,’ I said vaguely. More deep breaths. Just a couple of minutes. Very well. I was ready to go.

There was a sudden disturbance at the hospital entrance. The nurse from the ward I’d just come from was there, looking distressed, pointing up the stairs and to the door. Orderlies clustered around her, listened to her briefly and then went off in different directions. A doctor ran down the stairs. They spoke together, urgently.

Gwen, Frank and I rose slowly to our feet. Something was very wrong.

From the railway line a hundred yards away came the sound of a train. Shouts. Yells. A screech of grinding brakes. A sharp hiss of steam.

A scream.

Chapter 18

There was an inquiry, of course. It was determined that a distressed, battle-fatigued young officer had slipped out of the hospital and wandered down to the station. There had been an unfortunate accident with a train.

It was all very regrettable. The young officer was a hero; he had saved two of his men in the evacuation of Gallipoli. There was talk of a medal being awarded.

Supervision on his ward had not been sufficient, it was decided. This would be remedied in the future.

And that
could
have been what had happened, of course it could. But it could also have been that Jay had seen me, seen my face, seen me step back, and he had thought that no one would ever want him again – not the wreck he’d become.

There was a funeral with full military honours. Lady Bellamy advised it was best I didn’t attend. ‘So unfortunate you were visiting directly before the accident, Flora,’ she said. ‘It must have been a great shock for you. You must not feel responsible, you know. The incident had nothing to do with you.’

I couldn’t look her in the eye. Oh, but maybe it did, I was wailing inside. Maybe it did!

Gwen and Frank told me I was not to blame myself, over and over. After a while, I think, I started to believe them – because I wanted to. I had to. But I sat on the terrace, in the cool winter evenings, and watched the sun set and the pigeons wheeling and the stars coming out, and felt so ashamed. Someone had lived, and thought he’d loved me, and been a hero, and died – and I hadn’t remembered his face at all.