Charles Todd - An Unmarked Grave

I could only sit there, stunned.

It was as if a godmother in a fairy tale had granted a fervent wish, but left the recipient to deal with the aftermath of that wish being granted.

“You seem surprised, Sister Crawford. I should have thought you would be delighted by such news.”

“I am,” I told her truthfully. “I-it’s just that I’m not sure how to break it to my father.”

“He’s been a serving officer all his life. He’ll understand the importance of duty, if anyone does,” she said bracingly. “Now to particulars. You’ll finish the week with us, take three days of leave to visit your family and prepare for this posting, and then report to France.”

It occurred to me that I had promised Julia Carson that I would come to see her again, and now there would be no opportunity.

“I’m very grateful, Matron. It’s such a surprise, it will take some time to get used to.”

The smile returned. “Of course. And I needn’t ask you not to tell your patients until the last day. We find that staff leaving often unsettles them.”

“I’ll say nothing,” I promised.

But where was Simon, and what would he think when he came here to see me after finishing whatever it was that had taken him to London, only to find me out of reach? And how would I learn whatever it was he might have discovered, given the censorship of the post to and from France?

There was another worry. Would I be in danger? But no one knew what I suspected. At least I hoped no one knew except for Simon and Private Wilson’s widow.

Changing the subject, Matron was now discussing a patient, and I forced my thoughts back to the present.

When I was dismissed, I knew I should seek out Dr. Gaines at once and thank him for his intercession. Instead I went outside to the park where Simon and I had spoken privately, and as I walked I tried to think.

I couldn’t turn down my orders. They had been cut, and even the Colonel Sahib, as my mother and I called him, would find it difficult to cancel them now. I should have to make the best of it, go to France and do what I did so well: help save lives.

I met Dr. Gaines as I was walking back to the house. He’d come in search of me, and he said as I approached, “There you are. Matron tells me your orders have been cut.”

“Yes, thank you, Dr. Gaines, it was very kind of you.”

“Nonsense. You’re a good nurse. Now come inside and we’ll unwrap that leg and have a look. Tell me what you think.”

He was being polite, of course. But I went with him and the Lieutenant’s leg was looking much better. We cleansed it again and put on fresh bandages. Dr. Gaines nodded to the owner of the leg, who had been watching us with such anxiety that my heart went out to him. A Yorkshireman, he said little, but his eyes spoke for him. “You’ll keep it, Lieutenant, and live to fight another day. If you follow instructions for the next few weeks.”

We made rounds, looking at Captain Scott’s damaged shoulder, Lieutenant Fraser’s badly fractured hand, Major Donovan’s shrapnel-shattered hip, and a dozen more cases the doctors were watching closely. When we’d finished, I was released from duty and allowed to go up to my room.

Halfway to the stairs, I encountered the American. He said without preamble, “You’re leaving.”

“You shouldn’t be listening at doors,” I informed him. “You seldom hear the truth.”

“It’s something in your face,” he said. “Never mind, I’ll be back in France before you know it. Keep watch for me.”

“Captain. Don’t be silly. You’ll lose that leg if you aren’t more careful. How many times does Dr. Gaines have to warn you?”

“I know. I have an incentive now to take my exercises seriously. And, ” he added with a gleam in his eye, “Simon Brandon will still be in England.”

Without waiting for me to reply, he hobbled away.

Dr. Gaines himself drove me home when the time came. I was rather surprised by that, but then I remembered what I had told him about going back to France. I expect he felt that his presence would in some fashion soften the blow for my parents.

I hadn’t called to warn my parents that I was coming. I saw my mother’s face as she opened the door and found us standing there. The succession of emotions touched my heart. Surprise. Fear. Anger. Resignation. They were all there. I presented Dr. Gaines, and she took us to the drawing room, rather than to her sitting room, a measure of her feelings. But she was politeness itself, apologizing for the fact that the Colonel Sahib was away at the moment, asking the doctor about the clinic, and carefully channeling the conversation away from the reason for my being there.

Finally, when there was nothing else to be said, Dr. Gaines cleared his throat and told my mother precisely what had happened and why.

She didn’t argue with him. Instead she thanked him with apparent sincerity and asked if he’d care to stay for dinner.

“Alas, no, I have my evening rounds, and I shall be late for them as it is. But thank you for your kindness.” He turned to me and wished me well. “Write to us if you will. I know that Matron, the staff, and the patients who know you will be delighted to hear how you are faring. And one patient in particular who asked me only this morning to find a reason to keep you at Longleigh House.”

I smiled in return. “I shall,” I promised. And with that, and a last glance at my mother, he was gone.

She closed the door behind him and said, “Well. As I have always said, things have a way of working out.”

“I didn’t ask Dr. Gaines to intercede,” I assured her.

“Darling, I know. And he made that quite clear, so that there would be no doubt in our minds.” She put her arm around my shoulders and pulled me close for a moment. “Love sometimes sees the future crookedly. It tries to convince us we know what’s best. When the call came from France-it was that Australian of yours. Sergeant Larimore. I don’t quite know how he learned that you might be dying, but he felt someone would wish to be with you at the end-I couldn’t quite think what to do. Your father was in London, he wouldn’t be home for another four-and-twenty hours, and I didn’t have the proper papers to allow me to go to France on my own. Simon had just landed in Dover, and so we sent him to you. I don’t know what mountains he and your father moved to make it possible for him to go at once. When he got word to us that you would live, it was a miracle. As if God had granted us a reprieve at the last possible moment when all hope had gone. It took some time to recover from that shock. Perhaps we were wrong to want to keep you safe in England, but we too had to heal.”

I hadn’t known all this. I had assumed that ill as I was, and being the Colonel’s only child, I’d been sent back to England to recover properly.

I had attended Sergeant Larimore in the winter, when he was wounded, and because of him I had learned firsthand how swiftly word could travel at the Front. I felt a rush of gratitude for what he’d done.

It was a measure of my parents’ fear that no one had told me until now. As if it would bring back for them what must have been long, terrifying hours of not knowing.

If I had been in France and was told that one of my parents was dying, I would have felt much the same helplessness. And so I could understand. Indeed, there had been a fortnight when I had had no news and feared the worst.

“We must consider what to have for dinner,” she said bracingly, changing the subject before we were both brought to tears. “I was planning to dine alone, and now here you are. Let’s talk to Cook and see what’s possible.”

I left Somerset before my father came back from whatever mission had taken him away this time. My mother made the best of what she must have considered to be a bad bargain and sent me off with freshly ironed uniforms, a packet of sandwiches, and her love, as she’d always done.