Suffragette Girl (33 page)

‘No.’ His tone was adamant. ‘No, I won’t have someone lose his life in my place. It was my fault. I should never have tried to go to Colette. Florrie, find her for me.
You must see that she’s all right. I’m so worried about her. That’s why I did what I did. I had to come back. Her family has disowned her. Thrown her out. I
had
to see
her. I had to try to take care of her. I promised her—’

‘Thrown her out? Just for – for consorting with an English soldier?’

He pursed his lips and shook his head as he whispered hoarsely. ‘She – she’s having my baby.’

‘
What?
’

Florrie was still reeling. She couldn’t take all this in. That her baby brother had been accused of deserting his post and was to be shot at dawn was hard enough, but to find that he had
fathered a child by some unknown French girl . . . Florrie was in a living nightmare.

She shook him. ‘James, what are you saying? Are you delirious?’

He was shaking, his head nodding and his hands trembling. She’d seen this before amongst the patients in the field hospital. It was what Ernst called shell shock. ‘The incessant
pounding of the guns and the dreadful conditions they have to live in,’ he’d explained to her. ‘To say nothing of the constant fear that death is just around the corner, or
“over the top” as they call it.’

Now she cradled James against her, stroked his hair and rocked him. ‘I’ll find her,’ she promised him, even though she didn’t believe a word of what he was saying.

‘You’ll take care of her and – and the baby? Promise me, Florrie.’

‘Of course I will. Now, try to sleep and while you do,’ she added grimly, ‘I’m going to see Major Grant.’

‘I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk to you. I don’t want to waste a minute. Please don’t leave me. It’s – it’s so dark in here.’

Florrie closed her eyes at the poignancy of it all. When he’d been a little boy, he’d been afraid of the dark, and many a night he’d crept from his own bedroom to snuggle in
beside her. How many times had she held him and soothed him – just like this?

‘Besides,’ James added bitterly, ‘I’ll have plenty of time to “sleep” after tomorrow morning.’

A shudder of dread ran through her and she held him more tightly than ever. She stroked his hair. ‘I must go and find the major. But I’ll come back – I promise.’

‘They might not let you in again.’

‘They’d better not try to stop me. Now, I want to know the name of the man who you swapped sentry duties with. Come on, James.’

‘No, I won’t, Florrie. It won’t save me, and they might shoot him too.’

Florrie stood up. ‘Then I’ll go and ask the sergeant.’

‘He doesn’t know. It was just between me and Pete – me and him.’

‘Pete,’ Florrie pounced on his slip of the tongue. ‘Was that his name?’

James groaned and dropped his head into his hands. ‘Oh, Florrie, don’t. Leave it. Please.’

She squatted down in front of him and tried to pull his hands away from his face. ‘I won’t leave it. I’m trying to save your
life.
’

She stood up and banged on the door for it to be opened. As she marched past the two soldiers, she warned them, ‘I’m coming back, so don’t you dare think you needn’t let
me in again. I’ve got to see your sergeant. Where is he?’

‘In the house next door, miss.’

Three men were sitting in the kitchen, a bottle of whisky on the table in front of them. The major, the sergeant and – to her shocked surprise – Gervase. They looked up, startled, as
she flung open the door. Gervase and the sergeant rose, but the major remained seated and merely muttered, ‘Not you again.’

Florrie barely glanced at Gervase. She’d never forgive him for not having tried harder to save James. And now she was incensed to see them sitting there, drinking whisky just as if they
were in the officers’ mess, when, in only a few hours’ time, a young man’s life was going to be cruelly snuffed out in the cold light of morning.

She directed her angry gaze at the sergeant. ‘There was another soldier – someone called Pete. James won’t give me his full name in case you decide to shoot him too.’ Her
lip curled with bitter disdain to think that they could all have such a careless attitude towards life. She’d come out here, put herself in danger, to try to save lives, and these three
– even Gervase, it seemed – pandered to the belief that any soldier who broke the rules should be made an example of in the harshest of ways. ‘Do you know who he means?’

‘I – might do,’ the sergeant said guardedly.

‘James swapped sentry duty with him. He didn’t desert his post. He arranged for it to be covered. But obviously, the man – this Pete – let him down.’

The sergeant and Gervase glanced at each other, but it was the major who said harshly, ‘That alters nothing. The men can’t just go altering their orders willy-nilly. Besides, he left
the theatre of war without permission.’

‘Sir, we were due to go into rest the following morning,’ the sergeant put in. ‘Perhaps—’

‘Then he should have waited. Applied for proper leave of absence. Gone through the correct channels.’

‘Would it have made any difference?’ Florrie asked. ‘Would he have been granted any leave, with things like they are at the Somme?’

The major had the grace to consider the question for a moment. ‘Probably not. But that’s what he should have done.’

Florrie turned towards the sergeant. She had the feeling that he was beginning to have some sympathy for James’s plight. ‘So, if you do know this Pete . . . Look, I’m not
trying to get the poor man into trouble, but surely—?’

The sergeant was shaking his head. ‘I’m so sorry, miss. But the only Pete whom James might have asked was Private Peter Shankley.’

‘Then, please – will you ask him? Sergeant, I’m begging you—’

‘If I could, miss, I would. Believe me. But Shankley was killed by a sniper on the evening of the day Maltby went absent without leave.’

Florrie clutched at the table for support as her knees threatened to give way. It was only Gervase’s sudden movement towards her that made her call on her reserves of strength and
straighten up. The look she gave him – as if to say ‘Don’t you dare touch me’ – made him drop his hands to his side and turn away sadly. He went to stand looking out
of the window with his back towards them all.

‘Funny, that,’ the sergeant was still saying. ‘We couldn’t understand how Shankley came to be where he was when he was killed. But if he was on his way to do
Maltby’s sentry duty for him, that would explain it.’

Florrie took a step forward, hope suddenly surging through her. ‘So—?’

But the major forestalled any plea. He stood up, his chair scraping back. He thumped the table with his fist. ‘The fact remains, he deserted. Even if he did try to cover his sentry duty,
he still went AWOL. It’s unforgivable. Young lady, the decision of the court stands.’

She could see that it was hopeless. She glanced around at the sergeant’s anxious, now sympathetic face, at the major’s belligerent, vengeful expression and lastly, at Gervase’s
rigid back. He was leaning his head on his arm against the window. He did not look round. Outside dusk was falling. The last twilight that her beloved brother would ever see.

Florrie turned and left the room.

They talked through the night, reliving the whole of their lives until this moment, remembering the happy times and the sad. They spoke of everything – every event, every
family celebration, everyone they knew and loved. And at last, James voiced the one name she’d been trying to keep out of the conversation. Yet it was impossible, for he had been so much a
part of their lives.

‘Gervase did his best, you know.’ Florrie stiffened and James must have felt it, for he drew back and looked into her face, searching her expression in the light from the one candle
they’d been allowed. ‘What? What is it?’

‘I begged him to help you. He
says
he’s tried, but that there’s nothing more he can do.’ Her tone was stiff and full of censure. ‘But I don’t believe
him.’

‘Oh, Florrie, don’t blame poor old Gervase. He
has
tried everything. He even put himself in danger of being court martialled for arguing with his superiors. For
Heaven’s sake, Florrie, he’s only a captain, but he ranted and raved at the
brigadier,
would you believe, and at Major Grant too. They threatened to charge him and still he
didn’t stop. He did everything he could have done, and probably more than he
should
have. And in the court, believe me, he tried everything. I just hope he’s not in
trouble.’

‘But did you tell him everything, James? He didn’t seem to know about this Pete person. Why didn’t you tell him that?’

‘I’ve told you – I can’t have another man’s life on my conscience. He could’ve been in trouble just for agreeing to it. You see, we didn’t clear it with
the sergeant.’

‘I know. He said.’

‘Oh, Florrie, what have you done? The sarge might guess who it is. I don’t want old Pete to—’

‘James, darling, the sergeant said he thought it was Peter Shankley.’ Even in the half-light she saw the horror on his face.

‘Oh, Lor’. I wish you hadn’t said anything. Now they’ll—’

She took hold of his hand as she said gently, ‘No, they won’t. He was killed by a sniper, probably on his way to do your duty.’

James closed his eyes and groaned. ‘So that’s how they came to find out I was missing. I wasn’t at my post. And neither was Pete.’

Florrie shuddered at the word. Tomorrow morning he would be tied to a different kind of post.

They were silent for some time before Florrie murmured, ‘I wish Gervase had told me just how hard he’d tried.’ She was devastated and ashamed now to think how she’d
treated him. She should’ve had more faith in his friendship for her brother, his love for her and his innate goodness.

‘He’s not the sort of chap to brag about what he’s done,’ James said. ‘He’s been mentioned in dispatches several times. You know he’s up for a medal,
don’t you?’

Florrie shook her head.

‘Mind you,’ he added sadly, ‘he might lose it now because of me.’

Florrie closed her eyes as she held James. Not only was she to lose her beloved brother under circumstances she believed totally unjustified, but she had insulted both of her dearest friends.
For what would Isobel say when she heard how Florrie had treated Gervase? Life really couldn’t get much worse.

The morning came, pale and cold and terrifying. And with it came the padre accompanied by two officers.

James was white-faced, but dry-eyed and calm. He stood to attention when the padre entered the room. The man seemed surprised to see a woman there.

‘This is my sister, sir. She’s a nurse here.’

The man nodded. ‘Now, my son,’ he said gently. ‘Have you written your last letters?’

James shook his head. ‘No, sir. Florrie will – will tell them.’

‘Then would you like us to pray together?’

The three of them knelt on the stone floor. Florrie bowed her head and bit down hard on her lip to stem the tears. She mustn’t cry, she told herself, she must not cry. She must be brave
for James’s sake. If she allowed her tears to flow, then it might be the undoing of him and she knew he wanted to face his sentence with a courage his superiors did not believe he had.

They heard the footsteps coming, the door open and turned to face the grim-faced soldiers who’d come to march him to his death. They were only young themselves and looked even more
terrified than James.

With Florrie and the padre at his side, James walked out to face the firing squad in the cold light of early morning, the sun just rising in the eastern sky. Florrie did not hold his hand or
even touch him. She walked with her head held high, looking straight ahead.

As they walked, she whispered, ‘I will fight for the rest of my life to clear your name. I’ll see the King, if I have to.’

James actually smiled as he glanced at her. ‘Chain yourself to Buckingham Palace railings, eh?’

Florrie nodded.

As they reached the place and saw the soldiers waiting, James paused and turned to her. Gripping her shoulders and kissing her briefly on both cheeks, he whispered, ‘There’s only one
thing I want you to do for me, Florrie dearest. Go to the farm. You know where it is, don’t you? Where you saw the soldiers hay-making? Find Colette and take care of her and – and the
baby.’

‘I will, James. I promise I’ll find her.’

He was led away from her. He was positioned with his back to the post and his hands tied behind it. But when they came with the blindfold, he shook his head. His gaze found and held
Florrie’s as the soldiers shuffled to take their positions.

‘You should leave now, miss.’ It was Sergeant Granger in charge of the firing squad. He was white-faced and trembling. His eyes were pleading with her.

‘I’m going nowhere, Sergeant. Do your worst and, when this war is over, I will do my best. Never again – in any future wars – will a soldier be shot for so-called
cowardice if I can help it. I promise you that.’

The sergeant looked at her with a mixture of anxiety and admiration as he turned from her.

‘Take aim.’ The soldiers raised their rifles to their shoulders.

Through her tears, her gaze held James’s and she smiled.

‘May God bless you, my darling brother,’ she murmured as the order was given and the shots rang out.

A shadow crossed the sun as James sank slowly to the ground, but even as he fell his gaze held hers. He lay perfectly still, his eyes wide open.

This time, he did not scramble up from the sand, wave gaily to her and then gallop towards the sea.

Sergeant Granger walked towards him and took out his pistol. Aiming it with a hand that shook, he delivered one shot to James’s temple.

Florrie flinched as the echo reverberated round them. She glanced briefly towards the line of men who’d made up the murderous squad. Two were crying openly and one had passed out and was
lying crumpled on the ground.

As the sergeant came back towards her, she could see that his face was drained of colour and his eyes dark with horror.