Nightingale (8 page)

‘She's right. Four sons. He must believe his job is to make men of you.'

‘Have you and my mother been talking?' he asked with a cheeky wink and in that moment Claire was sure she could see the boy that Jamie must have been. ‘The strange thing is that there's no doubting the love between him and Mum.'

In her daydreams Claire liked to imagine that her parents were inseparable when her mother was alive and that everyone around them could see they were deeply in love. ‘Go on.' She found Jamie's husky voice irresistible with his fresh South Australian country accent.

‘He's got this . . . er, well, this steely sort of gaze.' Jamie tried to mimic it. ‘I swear he could herd sheep with his scary light-blue stare.'

Claire gusted with laughter.

‘But you know, that hard look over the moustache that never seems to move, even when he talks, it just seems to soften whenever Mum's around.'

Claire stopped laughing and felt her heart melt. ‘I think it's so special that you notice.'

He nodded. ‘That's how I want it to be.'

‘When you fall in love, you mean?'

He didn't meet her gaze, just shook his head slightly over an embarrassed shrug.

‘Don't move your arm,' she warned gently. ‘I'm getting to the tricky bit.' She took the empty mug, placed it down and he smiled his thanks. ‘I'm guessing your mum has lovely brown eyes?' He nodded sadly and she didn't push. ‘I envy you.'

He gave her a quizzical look.

‘To be part of a big family and all that love.'

‘Maybe that's what you need . . . to be part of a loving family.'

‘Amen to that, Trooper Wren.' She caught him staring at her and realised how intimate their conversation had become. Matron may not approve but then Matron wouldn't approve of her being alone with him, showing such special favour. ‘Well, I must say you are in the most romantic of all companies. I think the mounted troops are so dashing . . . even without your horses.'

Claire began to wash out the wound with syringes of water and antiseptic; knowing how it stung, she was impressed that the only clue to his discomfort was a frown.

She knew she shouldn't, but the words came anyway. ‘Have you got a girl you miss?'

He nodded and she wasn't ready for how much his admission hurt, stinging perhaps as much as the disinfectant she was pouring over his wound. But she kept her expression even. ‘Oh? What's her name?'

‘Pip.'

‘Pip? What's that short for?'

‘Pipsqueak.'

‘Pipsq—?' She stopped mid-word, seeing his eyes flash with amusement.

He laughed but winced at how it hurt. ‘My dog. She's the best-looking border collie in Australia. Strong, brave, never gives up.'

‘And is that what you look for in the girls you love?' Claire was surprised at herself for flirting. ‘So . . . have you got a sweetheart?' she asked, regretting the words the moment they were out.

He shrugged awkwardly. ‘I suppose.' Wren gave a sigh.

‘Gosh, that sounds like true love.'

She had meant her remark to be light-hearted but he took it seriously. ‘Because it isn't love.' He lowered his intense gaze. ‘Maybe for Alice it was real, but not for me.'

‘I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry. Where are you based? I mean, on the escarpment?'

He looked glad to shift topics. ‘We're at a place called Walker's Ridge. Nothing to see, just scrubby valleys and spurs. Can't even see those or the beautiful sea, to be honest, because we walk through trenches most of the time. But, I guess, if you look to the east from the ship, that's where I am. Actually, if you know where the mules are mainly tethered – we call it Mule Gully – just follow the line up to Russell's Top and my ridge is like a knife edge that branches out, running to North Beach and leading down from a place called the Nek. I've been told there are sweeping views across the Suvla Plains but we just keep our heads down.'

As he finished explaining, a tiny piece of metal fell out of the wound and made a tinny, ringing sound in the kidney dish. They both stared at it glinting darkly in the bloodstained water.

‘This is why it was a good idea to take my advice,' she said, full of relief. Another fragment dislodged and rang dully.

‘It was a mortar bomb.'

‘Well, some of its casing has found its way into you. We've had shrapnel the size of marbles topple out of face wounds but the tiniest fragments can create horrible problems.' She stared into the open wound, aware that he was staring at her.

‘I don't know how you do it,' he said. ‘You must see so much horror.'

‘Even if we win this war, we're all going to lose.'

‘Most of us don't even know why we're here, not in Europe.'

She remembered all those jovial boys back in Mudros Harbour who had been winking at the nurses from the decks of their troopships – yelling out promises of undying love and pledges to marry her once they'd seen off Johnny Turk. How many of those braves were now dead?

The Allies and the Germans had effectively ground each other to a standstill on the Western Front. Britain's inspiration to secure the Dardanelles and prevent Turkey from having any effect on opening up valuable military routes for the Central Powers had detoured many Australians into the eastern Mediterranean.

‘Apparently we have to help take the pressure off the east, according to our First Lord of the Admiralty. I overheard one of the diplomats' wives while powdering her nose at Shepheard's Hotel. Churchill says he'll be damned before he lets the Germans run rampant through the Mediterranean.' She gave a long inward sigh, weary of wondering at decisions of the power brokers. ‘I think that wound is clear of debris now.'

Was it how shattered she sounded in that moment? Or perhaps it was the way she happened to look up from tending his wound at the precise moment he raised his gaze to meet hers . . . Whatever it was and whichever forces had pushed them to meet this day, those same powers now propelled them forward. She presumed he felt a similar, uncontrolled need in that heartbeat because the gap between them closed helplessly, rapidly, as Jamie gently cupped his left hand around her neck and pulled Claire towards him. Their lips touched so briefly, so softly, she could probably later convince herself it hadn't happened, as vague guilt over his sweetheart snagged briefly in her thoughts but was then overlooked. Alice was the least of her problems; right now, notions of duty and responsibility clashed with yearning and desire. She was exquisitely aware of every rule being broken, while all her senses were enchanted by this Australian.

She stared at him in disbelief, her hands still clutching the bowl and syringe. ‘Jamie . . .' she whispered.

He shook his head, his expression mortified. ‘I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Claire, I . . . forgive me.'

‘Alice?' She felt lost for what to say next.

‘It's over between us; I have no intention or desire to marry her,' he groaned. ‘Even so, I . . . I'm sorry . . .'

It was as though someone else took control of her body in that moment; his vulnerable expression melted the core of her emotions that as a nurse she had worked so hard to defend. Suddenly all the barricades were lowered. Claire put the implements down, and after a quick glance along the corridor, she put a finger to his lips. ‘Hush.' She leaned forward and kissed Jamie again tenderly, lingering just long enough so he knew she wasn't simply comforting him. She dare not be caught, though. This was far more punishable than to be found stealing a kiss with one of the naval officers on board.

Jamie stared at her in blank silence when they parted. Her message had been received but they both shared the feeling of how hopeless their situation suddenly was.

‘Claire . . .' he began again, his voice thick as if a million words were clogged in his throat.

They both heard footsteps and she noticed he shifted his slouch hat more squarely across his lap. She was sure they were both furiously blushing.

‘. . . and that now looks to be clean,' she said in her best matter-of-fact voice. ‘We can get you sewn up, dressed and back to your . . . Oh, hello,' she said to the returning nurse. ‘All good, not a sound from any of them.'

‘Thanks, Claire. You're a brick. Oh, bet that hurts,' she said, eyeing Jamie's open wound. ‘All cleared?'

Claire nodded. ‘Yes indeed. All done.'

‘Do you want me to stitch up? It's pretty quiet around here as all my patients are miraculously sleeping. It won't last, but I'm happy to help?'

Claire desperately wanted to remain exactly where she was: feeling the warmth of Jamie's body through her hands, which were still resting on his skin, still tasting his desire on her lips. She wanted to hold him and allay the anxiety she could read in his eyes that he had taken advantage of her.

‘Claire?' her colleague prompted.

‘Oh, sorry,' she gushed. ‘I was miles away. Um, Jamie, remember me to your family when you write home. I'd better report back to theatre. We'll get you sewn up and back to your unit.'

‘Thank you, Claire,' he said, not even glancing at the other nurse. ‘Thank you for saving my arm . . . no, my life.'

‘Stay safe out there, Jamie,' Claire replied. His gaze hadn't moved from hers. ‘I don't want to see you back here,' she lied; she already wanted to see him again.

Claire turned away, hating to leave him and determined not to look around for a final glance his way. Untying her apron, she hurried to the stores area where she leaned back against the shelving and took some deep calming breaths. What was she thinking? Wren would, in all likelihood, not survive the next week, let alone the lifetime her suddenly love-struck mind was letting itself skip down. Love? She knew so little about it. Romantic love had never found her, nor had she looked for it. Yet kissing Jamie felt like the most natural, delicious healing sensation she had ever experienced in her lonely life. Claire blushed at the memory, recalling how a channel of pleasure had traced through her like an arc of lightning across the sky when he'd pulled her towards him.

Who would have thought she'd find romance in a battle zone? But now a new, far darker thought rode in to spoil her moment of awakening. Now she had a reason to live in real fear. She'd found Jamie. She couldn't possibly lose him.

________

The nurse inspected her stitching of Jamie's skin. She had to be a decade older than Claire, he guessed. ‘I'll just dress it,' she said, reaching for the sterile pad of sphagnum moss.

Jamie nodded. ‘Thanks. How well do you know Nurse Nightingale?'

The woman shrugged. ‘There're so few of us on the wards, we get to know each other quite well.'

‘Does she have a bloke?'

She gave him a quizzical look over her mask that felt like a reprimand.

‘Sorry, it's none of my business, I know, but I didn't get a chance to ask her . . . I . . . er, thought I'd pass on the news to home that I'd seen her. Guess we don't know the next time we'll see each other . . . or even if we will.'

He saw her expression relent. ‘You keep your head down, Trooper. I only like to patch my soldiers up once.' He grinned and was surprised how its effect made her gaze soften on him. ‘Claire tends to keep her feelings to herself on most subjects,' she continued, ‘but I sense she's a bit of a dreamer and doesn't let her defences down. She's enormously liked by the doctors and patients – all of us – but she's hard to get to know. Did you find that?'

‘I really don't know her well. It's more our parents who know each other.' He winced inwardly.

The nurse tapped him gently on the non-injured shoulder as if to say he was all done. ‘If she has a fellow, she doesn't speak about him.'

He was happy to hear that but kept his expression neutral. ‘Well, as I don't plan to get blown up again or shot, I probably won't see anyone from this ship again. I'm grateful to you for this,' he said, testing his arm as he moved it. ‘Feels all right.'

His polite manners worked. The older nurse gave him a beaming smile. ‘Well, it will for now because I've put some local anaesthetic in the wound but it's going to be sore as it heals. Keep that dressing as dry as you can. Once it starts to itch, you can let it air. The casualty clearing station can take the stitches out.'

She showed him the way out and even though he remained vigilant, craning his neck to peep into every doorway they passed, he didn't catch sight of Claire again. His Claire. He
had
to see her again.

‘Up that flight and you're on deck. Take one of the transports back to the shore. Bye, Trooper Wren. Stay safe.'

He followed the Indian bearer, surprised as he emerged onto the deck that there were no sounds of gunfire. Afternoon had slipped into dusk and his fellow troopers would be thinking about some bully beef; he imagined the raft of jokes Spud would normally be making about dinner or how curious it was that the smell from the latrines seemed to intensify at meal times. A new wave of sadness rolled over him and he felt he was being drowned again by the grief of his fallen mate and, of course, Swampy and Dickie. Jamie reached for the deck rail.

‘Sir, are you all right?' Gupta asked.

‘Just a bit light-headed.'

‘Take a moment and rest. You must favour the wound for a day or two, sir.'

A soft evening breeze stirred his hair and sighing in with it was the question: was he imagining it, or had he fallen in love? This sensation of experiencing something so special and then having to walk away from it felt so different to leaving Alice Fairview. People spoke about the power of first love but he'd never grasped it because he accepted now that he'd never properly felt it before.

But as he clutched the ship's rail, he believed this new feeling of dizziness was not due to his wound but the result of kissing Claire Nightingale, that reckless kiss that had been returned. He'd been gripped by madness and yes, he was sure the pain of losing Spud was part of it, but most of the blame he laid at her feet. Those soulful grey eyes that revealed little and yet were balm to his pain. He imagined himself unpinning that sun-streaked hair he glimpsed beneath her veil and raking it gently between his fingers. He already loved the way her mouth moved in her heart-shaped face and how dimples creased either side of her mouth as though there was always secret amusement on her lips. They were strangers and yet they shared birds for a surname and Spud's death for a reminder that life can be taken so easily, and a kiss that told him love could be discovered instantly and without warning. He heard Gupta chuckle.