THE WAR BRIDE CLUB (5 page)

      “Well done, Miss Betty.”

      Alice groaned again and shut her eyes. The other two clapped politely.
 

      “How about lavatory?”

      “As in I’d rather be in a lavatory right now?”

      “No, Alice! What’s the word? No one in America will know what you mean if you ask where the lavatory is.”

      They all looked back at her like they had no idea what she was talking about.
 

      “Toilet.”

      “Oh, I knew that one!” Betty sat up straighter. “Come on, more.”

      “What is a scone?”

      “Biscuit!” yelled Madeline.
 

      A sharp look from an official made them drop their voices.
 

      “Verandah?”

      They all stayed silent.
 

      “Porch,” Madeline whispered.
 

      “How about you read to us and we’ll just listen?” suggested Alice.
 

      June flicked through the pages and then dumped the magazine on the table. “I think you all need to read it anyway. I’ve done enough talking for the day.”

      A plop of rain hit Alice on the forehead and she squealed. “Quick, to the cabin!”

      June helped Betty to her feet, then linked arms with her and Madeline. They followed Alice as she fled, heels starting to skid on the deck as rain fell with fury from the clouds above.
 

Alice grimaced as she peeled her wet cardigan from her body and strung it up on the line hanging across the room. She re-tucked in her camisole and reached for a woollen top.
 

      “I guess we’re stuck here until dinner?”

      Alice looked up as Betty spoke.
 

      “We could go to the lounge?”

      June shook her head and tucked up under the covers. “I think we should stay right here.”

      “While you read us out passages from Good Housekeeping?” teased Madeline.
 

      “No, while one of you tells us your story.”

      They all looked in opposite directions.
 

      “Come on! You made me tell mine, so now it’s someone else’s turn.” June glared at them all.
 

      Betty pointed at Alice. “Make her do it,” she said. “I just get all emotional talking about my Charlie.” She rubbed her belly, eyes downcast.

      Alice straightened her shoulders and stretched her back, before slipping a scarf around her neck to combat the cold and sitting on the centre hammock. “You really want to hear my story?”

      “Yes,” affirmed June.
 

      “How long do I have?”

      “Until dinner,” said Betty.
 

      Alice gave a dramatic, arms spread wide pose, then lay on her stomach, elbows propping her up. She blocked out the murky cream walls and peeling paint, and let her mind wander. It wasn’t hard, she thought about her man constantly, remembered everything about him. Every moment they had spent together.
 

      “My father always said that to sit idle during the war was to not make an effort at all. If you believed in your country, no matter how old you were or what your standing, then you had to do something. So I joined up with the Red Cross, trained as a nurse, and started to look after our men as they came home. Or any men really, any soldiers who needed medical assistance.”

      She cupped her chin with her palms and closed her eyes. It still felt like just yesterday…

* * *

Alice would never forget the day Ralph Jones grabbed hold of her wrist. She was walking between the beds, refilling waters and checking temperatures, when a strong hand closed over her skin and didn’t let go.
 

      “Don’t leave me.” A voice croaked, tight, as if it hadn’t spoken in days.
 

      “It’s okay, soldier, you’re not alone here.”

      He still didn’t let go of her wrist.
 

      “Please.”

      Alice scanned the room. The battle-axe who passed for head nurse was nowhere to be seen.
 

      “Would you like water?” she asked.
 

      His head moved, only just, side to side. “No.”

      Alice looked again but saw no one. “If you let go of my wrist I’ll pull out a seat and sit with you.”

      “Promise?” he asked.
 

      “Promise.”

      She reached beneath the bed and slid a seat out. She knew there was one there because she’d stored it there herself before the bed was filled. Alice leaned over to get his charts and had a quick scan.
 

      “Well, Captain Jones, it seems you’re lucky to be here.”

      There was no response. His eyes were closed. She put the chart back and pushed back the seat to stand.
 

      He touched her wrist again. Not the strong hold like before, but a skim of his hand against hers. She stopped.
 

      “Please.”

      Alice sat down again. She’d lost plenty of soldiers since she’d started. Had some propose to her – even fancied the odd one. But this man was different. Even with the bandage disguising half his face, the leg suspended in a cast and blankets covering almost all of his body, there was something about him. A strength, a power that his injuries
 
couldn’t disguise.
 

      She reached for the water and tucked her arm beneath his pillow. “Take a sip.”

      The Captain leaned forward, his lips parting softly as she tipped the water for him.
 

      “Thank you.”

      It was then Alice felt a peculiar sensation trace her arm. She placed the cup back on the side table and took up her seat again. The soldier kept his hand on hers, his fingers caught against her own. The sensation kept crawling against her skin. Tickling her. Making her aware of him.
 

      He opened his eyes, turned his head slightly, and looked straight at her. She swallowed, not breaking their gaze.
 

      “You can call me Ralph.”

      “Alice,” she whispered.
 

      “Alice,” he repeated. “Thank you, Alice.”

      Alice stood, worried about being caught. She watched him, listened to his breathing, and decided he was asleep. Like he’d collapsed back into unconsciousness.
 

      She ran her fingers over his palm, said a little prayer that he’d still be alive when her shift started in the morning, then left.
 

Every day that Alice saw Ralph Jones was a good one. Even when she wasn’t assigned to look after him, Alice found an excuse to visit him, to sit beside his bed and read to him. The paper, poems, anything really, just so she could spend time in his company. He told her stories of America, talked about friends he hoped to see again one day, and every day he told her that once he could walk, they’d go dancing.
 

      “But I’m your nurse, that wouldn’t be proper!” she told him when he asked her out.
 

      “Sweetheart, I’m a Captain in the United States Army. No one’s gonna tell me off for taking you for a spin.”

      “How about that sweetheart of yours back home? I’ll bet she’ll care!”
 

      “I don’t have a sweetheart back home, Alice. Would I be talking to you like this if I did?”

      And then she’d done what she did every day. Pressed a kiss to his forehead, squeezed his hand, and walked away. She didn’t want to get too attached, and besides, she liked to keep a man hanging.
 

      But the day she arrived at work, rushing to spend time with Ralph before her shift started, and he wasn’t there, she regretted playing hard to get. It was all she could do not to sob and stomp and crawl into a ball on his bed. She might have, had his bed not already been filled.

      She’d rushed into the nurses’ station, hands shaking, to find a note pinned to the board. A messy ‘Alice’ was scrawled on an envelope.
 

      Alice reached a finger out to trace the smudged writing, before pulling it from the board. It didn’t say much. No words of love or misery. But in all her life she would never forget what he’d written.
 

      
I’ll find you.

      Every day after, for two months, she’d wished those words would come true.
 

Alice was so tired, her head so heavy it felt as if it belonged to a giant. Part of her wanted to ignore the door, but she was too polite to hide. Her shift had gone on hours longer than expected, and she’d seen more blood than she could ever have imagined witnessing in her pre-war life. When every day had been simple, easy, unlike the endless hours that stretched out as a nurse.
 

      A bang echoed down the hall. She cringed. Company had not been part of her plan. The empty house had suited her mood just fine.
 

      She hauled back the timber door.
 

      Her eyes locked on a uniformed body. On piercing grey eyes that didn’t blink.
It couldn’t be, could it?

      Alice looked him up and down again before braving another glimpse at his face.
 

      “Remember me?” he asked.

      She couldn’t have stopped her smile if she’d tried.
 

      “Ralph!” Alice flung her arms about his shoulders. “Oh, Ralph.”

      “I said I’d find you, didn’t I?”

      It had been months since he’d disappeared. Months since she’d last held his hand, whispered a kiss against his cheek, watched him sleep.
 

      
And now he’d found her.
 

      “Are you going to let me in?”

      Alice moved aside and let him enter. She didn’t even bother to close the door. She touched her fingers against his and took the hand he offered.
 

      
Ralph was back
. That was all that mattered.
 

      She could inspect his old wounds later.
He was here.
 

      “I was called away, love, as soon as they discharged me. But I always knew I’d find you.”

      Deep down in her heart, Alice had known that too.
 

Before the war, Alice had been used to the high life. Not that her family was particularly wealthy, but she’d always managed to find nice men who liked to indulge her. Take her out for pricey dinners and shows.
 

      Ralph? He was a cut above the London men she’d once been impressed with. He showered her with gifts, found things that just weren’t possible to locate in wartime rationing, and made her heart race like no man before.
 

      The stockings, squares of chocolate, even ridiculous luxuries like legs of turkey, only made her love him more.
 

      It was the official uniform, pressed and distinguished, and the way even her senior nurse looked the other way if Ralph wanted to see her at work that really made her excited, though. The power made her giddy. Although she never let him take charge of her like he did his men.
 

      Until she discovered that he was needed in Europe. His post in London had ended so abruptly that she was starting to wonder if she’d ever even see him again. Now she didn’t know how much longer she’d have him for. Or what was to become of them.
 

      Alice had happily accepted his marriage proposal the day he had turned up on her doorstep. Her heart wouldn’t have let her say no. But now she was facing life alone, again, without him. Would he ever come back to her? Could he even make that promise again and know in his heart he’d be able to keep it?

      “Alice?”

      Ralph’s voice rang out in the crisp London air. She had purposely chosen a quiet spot to sit. A seat hidden by the breadth of a large oak tree, in the little clearing near the hospital. It had once been a private garden, now it was a park of sorts for injured men to be wheeled about in.
 

      She stood, revealing herself. Her eyes drank in the outline of his figure, the cut of his uniform.
 

      “Alice!”

      Ralph lengthened his stride until he reached her. His smooth cheek touched hers as his kiss lingered.
 

      “You’re going today, aren’t you?” she asked him.
 

      The solemn depth of his eyes told her she was right. Alice bit the inside of her lip until her tears passed, then cleared her throat.