Charles Todd - An Unmarked Grave

“Quite. But I wouldn’t write off someone stopping this ambulance and killing both of us,” he said tightly.

I shivered at the thought, and touched the weight of the little pistol in my pocket. Simon had reminded me that it wasn’t of a caliber to kill or maim. But it was better than no protection, and it could make enough noise and cause enough pain to stop my assailant until someone came to my rescue.

With that thought in mind, when we had reached the station, I slept more soundly in what was left of that night.

Barclay was always in sight, wherever I was, and I wondered when or if he slept at all. He looked tired, and some of that I put down to his leg still being weak. His limp seemed to be worse, but he never complained.

Sister Clery, sitting down beside me as I ate a hasty dinner before returning to my duties, eyed me with interest. “I think,” she said after a moment, “that you have a beau. And he really is handsome, even though he’s not an officer. He ought to be. Perhaps there’s something mysterious in his past that prevented him from joining the Army under his own name.”

Realizing she was speaking of Barclay, I laughed. “He’s actually a rich American in disguise, and he followed me to France because I’ve refused his proposals of marriage nine times.”

She laughed with me. “I tell you, Bess, if that were true, I’d volunteer to mend his sad and broken heart myself.”

“Alas, I fear it’s beyond mending.”

“Ah, well. But I’ve noticed that everyone has been keeping an eye out for us. I don’t mind telling you, I was badly frightened when you were attacked.”

“Whoever he is, he’s well away from here now,” I assured her, and hoped that it was true.

New orders came for me before the week was out. Dr. Hicks informed me of them when he and I had finished working to stabilize an abdomen torn by shrapnel before taking the risk of sending the patient on to Rouen.

“I shall miss your steady hand and good eye,” he said. “But my loss is another station’s gain.”

“Thank you, sir.” And then, with a sense of foreboding, I asked, “Could you tell me who ordered my transfer?”

“I spoke to him by field telephone this morning. A Dr. Percy had requested you.”

I’d never worked with a Dr. Percy. “Was it Dr. Percy on the telephone?”

“No, no, I could hardly hear the Major, there was so much interference. But he confirmed you are to leave at once and the paperwork is to follow by the end of the week.”

“But that’s unusual, isn’t it?”

“True, but apparently they’re shorthanded outside of Ypres, and they can’t wait for the orders to come.” He studied my face. “Are you worried about this transfer, Sister Crawford?”

“I-yes, I must admit that I am,” I said, speaking frankly.

“I can assure you it was all straightforward. I made sure of that.”

“Could you try to reach Ypres and make certain that this was not a mistake?”

“Is it the attack on you that has made you so wary? My dear, you will probably be safer in your new posting than you are here, so close to the lines. I shouldn’t worry, if I were you.”

“Thank you, sir.” I couldn’t protest any more than I had.

Yet this was what I had dreaded-a new posting I knew very little about. I’d been sure Dr. Hicks would keep me, but someone had been insistent and convincing. I had no choice in the matter.

I went back to my tent, trying to think of a way to send word to my father. I’d seen Captain Barclay no more than an hour ago, but now he was nowhere to be found.

Troubled by his continued absence, on my first break I finished packing my possessions as ordered. If I could reach Rouen, surely I could find a way to contact the Colonel Sahib. But when I changed my apron, I made certain that the little pistol was in my pocket.

Outside I could hear the grumble of ambulance motors as they prepared to leave for the Base Hospital.

Just then Dr. Hicks came to say good-bye.

“Be safe, Sister Crawford. Did I tell you that there will be accommodations for you tonight at the American Base Hospital? Your transport to Ypres, as I understand it, will leave tomorrow morning from there.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Sister Clery also came to say good-bye, and several of the others who weren’t busy with the wounded. But still there was no sign of Captain Barclay.

Sister Clery, seeing me look around a last time before taking my seat, smiled and said, “I’ll tell him you’ll miss him, shall I?”

“Don’t bother,” I said, trying to convince myself that he had gone ahead to look into the transfer.

The ambulances followed the usual track, stopping at one other aid station to take on three more patients, and then finally, when my spine felt like a washboard, I could see the lights of Rouen ahead.

We discharged our patients, handed in the lists of names, and the drivers went away to hose down the ambulances.

I said to the sister in charge, “I’ve received a new posting, but the paperwork hasn’t come through. Oral orders for Ypres. I’m told you have a bed for me tonight.”

She glanced at my valise, then raised her eyes to my face. “Sister Crawford? I don’t think-let me look at the roster.”

My heart sank, but I smiled and waited patiently.

After a moment she shook her head. “No, sorry. There’s nothing here.”

I knew then that this was not an official transfer. “Do you have a bed? I don’t believe my transport leaves until tomorrow morning.”

Again she shook her head. “We’ve got no space, Sister. We had beds for eight hundred and we’ve got nearly sixteen hundred patients. I’ve moved in with another nurse myself, we’re that cramped. I’m so sorry.”

I put the best face on it I could.

“My transport expects to find me here tomorrow before dawn. Could you leave a message that I am in Rouen and will meet it on time?”

She wrote a message and clipped it on a board by her desk where there were some twenty or thirty others. “I won’t be on duty tomorrow, but the nurse who is will see the message. Will that do?”

I could tell she had more on her mind than dealing with my problems. But there was one more question I wanted to put to her.

“There’s one more thing,” I said with a smile. “I’m being sent to work with a Dr. Percy, near Ypres. I hear he’s something of a Tartar. Have you had any dealings with him or his patients?”

“Near Ypres? Most of those cases go directly to Dover.”

I could only push the matter so far. I thanked her and walked out of Base Hospital’s Reception.

So much for my attempts to find out anything useful. Communications were sketchy at best here in France. The military used runners and motorcycles when contact was imperative. Radio telephones were not always dependable. And so it wasn’t too surprising that someone here in Rouen wouldn’t know a doctor on the coastal sector of the Front. Unless of course he had a reputation that fed the rumor mill. I’d have to wait until morning and see what sort of transportation showed up.

Ordinarily I’d have sorted out the problem of where to spend the night without a second thought. Rouen was not a small town; it was a sizable city, and wandering about in it alone-something I’d done a dozen times before this-was no longer something I cared to do. Under the circumstances.

And what had happened to Captain Barclay? I’d convinced myself that he’d come ahead to prepare the way. After all, he could hardly openly desert his duties by leaving the aid station when I did. But there was no indication that he’d even reached the Base Hospital; otherwise he’d have left a message for me. Was he even in Rouen? Now I wondered if he was alive, because he took his duty to me seriously, and yet he had vanished without a word. What’s more, the ambulances that had brought me here had already pulled out for the Front, and there wasn’t even a possibility of sending word back to Dr. Hicks, much less getting his answer before I myself left the city.