Jacqueline Winspear - The Mapping of Love and Death

Upon revisiting the site of the casualty clearing station where she had worked, now a cemetery for those who died when the unit came under enemy fire, Maisie had suffered a breakdown. It was Maurice who had looked after her until she regained consciousness, and Maurice who had brought much-needed healing when he directed her to face her past so she could move beyond the memories and the years of suffering. "Wound agape," he had said, "is when we find healing in the blood of the wound itself." And she understood, then, that to rise above the pain that still inflamed her heart, she had to face the dragons of her war, or she would forever be at their mercy. Now, in this clinic where Maurice was clinging to life, it was as if every lesson, every memory of him, was being brought back to her to see again in her mind's eye. He had offered balm for so many of her wounds, and for that she loved him as if she were his own.

Maisie rose from the chair, leaned across the bed, and kissed Maurice's forehead. She waited only a few seconds more before leaving the room and joining Andrew Dene and James Compton.

"Thank you, Andrew. I'm glad you're here. I'm relieved to know you're in charge of his care."

"It was in his instructions, actually. His doctor told me that he has everything planned for the future, right down to who should be summoned at whatever stage of his illness. And I was to be brought in if he was transferred to the clinic."

"Just like Maurice. Always one step ahead of everyone else." James took a calling card from his pocket and handed it to Dene, then shook hands with him. "I meant no offense when I asked about the consultant, and I hope you don't take it as such. We all love him so very much, don't we? Anyway, if you need anything-and I mean anything-with regard to his well-being, be in touch with me straightaway at this number."

Dene nodded. "Will do-thank you." He turned to Maisie, leaned forward, and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll see you again soon, Maisie. And don't worry, I will keep you posted. He should be going home on Saturday or Sunday, and if there's any change, I will telephone you."

Maisie nodded her thanks, at once unable to speak.

"And before you go, let me give you some ointment for that graze. It'll heal faster, and you don't want a scar, do you?'

Dene led the way to the consulting room, and as they walked along the corridor, James Compton put his arm around Maisie's shoulder, as if to protect her. Later, she would try to give words to the effect that the gesture had upon her, and had to admit that it made her feel as if she was protected, and safe.

Maisie placed telephone calls to her father and Priscilla prior to leaving the clinic, and when she informed her friend of the reason she was unable to come to tea, Priscilla insisted that she and James drive from the clinic straight to the house in Kensington for an early supper. "We'll be sitting down with those toads, but as I always warn you, that's how we do things in this house in all but the most illustrious company. In any case, as soon as they know that James was an aviator in the war, they will be all over him like a sprawling vine-your eldest godson has aeroplanes on the brain, and is already saying that he wants to be a fearless flier when he grows up. I swear that one of them, and probably my budding airman, will send me back to daytime drink!"

Having had her cheek tended by Andrew Dene, Maisie left the clinic with a heavy heart, and for a time she and James Compton sat in silence on the drive back to London. Yet it was a comfortable silence, soothing her as much as the journey itself.

They were close to Sevenoaks when Maisie spoke. "It was good of you to take me to the clinic, James. I do hope it doesn't seem like too much of a wasted journey because Maurice was asleep."

"Absolutely not. And remember, I was under my mother's orders to chauffeur you to Tunbridge Wells, so there's no blame on your part. It was important that we went-for me as much as you, Maisie." James slid the motor into a higher gear as they went up River Hill. "Dene reckons Maurice will be able to go home on Saturday afternoon, so I imagine you'll want to come straight to Chelstone after we've been to Brooklands-and if you don't want to go to the racing, do say. You won't be letting me down." He turned and half smiled. "But perhaps the day out might help take your mind off things."

Maisie felt unsure at first, for she could not imagine her mind being on anything but Maurice. Yet on the other hand, the thought of hours filled with mounting concern at home was not an attractive proposition. She turned to James. "Yes, let's go. You're right-if I'm at Brooklands, I won't have time to worry. But I would very much like to return to Chelstone as soon as the meet is over, to see Maurice as soon as he's settled. Andrew said he'd telephone tomorrow and Friday to keep me apprised of his progress."

James nodded, and for a moment Maisie thought he might ask about her courtship with Andrew Dene.

"We're making good time. We'll be in Kensington before you know it-and Maisie, I know that your friend Priscilla has extended the invitation for me to come to supper, but if it's awkward for you-"

"Oh, please-do come. Priscilla loves meeting new people, and her boys will be thrilled to come face-to-face with a man who flew aeroplanes in the war. You'll be grilled about your exploits, and by the time they go to school tomorrow morning, they will have elevated you to being personally responsible for taking down the Red Baron."

"Oh yes, James Compton, aviator extraordinaire, who sustained his war wounds while on the ground."

"You came under enemy attack."

"I would have felt better about it if I'd have been up in the air at the time."

"Well, your mother was delighted that you came home wounded, and not at death's door, doubly so when you were transferred to a desk job. She thought she would lose you."

"It's a bit hard to face someone like Douglas Partridge, a man who was felled by his wounds, who cannot walk without a cane, and who has had an arm amputated. And whose writing-his pacifism-makes him a force to be reckoned with."

Maisie turned to face James. "You've read his articles?"

"Of course. The man is brilliant. To tell you the truth, I am looking forward to meeting him. Why?"

"Nothing. I suppose I was just a little surprised, James."

They were silent again, and in that time, Maisie felt James' discomfort, as if there were more he wanted to say. On her part, there was also a lack of ease, as she considered that she had held on to impressions of James gained in earlier days, when she was a girl and he was the young man for whom Enid-the outspoken housemaid who had taken Maisie under her wing when she first came to work at the Ebury Place mansion-had set her hat. Enid, who would forever be twenty years of age.

Maisie was so wrapped in her thoughts that she was startled when James spoke again.

"Look, about that day at Khan's house."

She raised her hand. "You don't need to say anything, James. I have known Khan for a long time. Whatever the purpose of your visit, it's no business of mine. Your reasons for being there are your own, so there is no need to explain anything to me."

"Thank you. Yes-yes, you're right. Perhaps another time."

"Another time. Of course."

Maisie could see that Priscilla's sons had been coiled like springs, the three of them waiting on the staircase for the much-anticipated guests to arrive. After running to Maisie to welcome her, they turned their attention to James and, she thought, all but saluted him.

Priscilla came out to meet her guests, and was introduced to James. Maisie could see that he had merited her friend's broadest smile.

"I hope you don't mind, but they have been champing at the bit, lurking on that staircase to get a bird's-eye view of you as soon as you crossed the threshold. I know this is not how young English boys should behave, but, well, they've been used to a different kind of life. Now then, let's repair to the drawing room for a glass of something interesting, eh." Priscilla led the way and gestured her guests to follow. "Douglas, they're here!" she called out to her husband, then leaned towards Maisie. "By the way, your assistant called at the house earlier. I have a message for you." She took a folded envelope from the slanted pocket set at the side of her wide palazzo pants. "Let's get settled, then you can huddle by yourself in the corner for a moment or two to read. If you need to use the telephone, nip up to use the one in my sitting room, for some privacy." She turned back to James and, taking his arm, introduced him to her husband. "Darling, here's Maisie's friend, James Compton. Do engage him while you can before your sons drag him off to their lair."