Terri Nixon - Kitty’s War

‘A happy ending,’ I said. ‘Good!’ Without thinking, I hugged his arm, then immediately let go in case he thought I’d meant anything by it. He gave me a faintly puzzled look, then accepted my withdrawal and put his hands in his pockets. We had arrived back at the house, and I had never been so displeased to see warm, welcoming lights at a window.

‘I should get to bed,’ he said. ‘I really need to be up at first light.’

Sending my body into complete turmoil, he put his hands gently on my shoulders, and dropped a kiss onto my forehead. With his jaw just inches away, it was as much as I could do not to turn my head to kiss him back, but I led the way indoors and said goodnight, making a meal of removing my coat, so he wouldn’t see how my hands still shook. I watched him from the hallway as he went in to say goodnight to my family, and then went to my own room, trying to untangle my insides and take a single deep and calming breath. I couldn’t do it. And then, as I lay there in the darkness, remembering the firmness of his lips on my skin, I decided I didn’t want to. The ache was too sweet, too new and too full of possibility to push away.

The following morning I breakfasted early, and Archie had yet to make an appearance by the time I’d finished. The meal was still sitting like a lump in my stomach and I felt as if I hadn’t chewed a single bite as I waited in the hall, pretending to be straightening my ever-annoying curls in the mirror, but every sense straining in anticipation.

At last I heard his footfall on the stairs, and my eyes went to the bag by the door before I looked up to see him for what might be the last time. He was pulling on his cap as he came round the bend in the stairs, and his uniform looked like part of him already, as though he’d been born to wear it. For a moment I had trouble recognising the Archie I’d known in this grown man, but then, as he always had as a boy, he took the last few stairs in a quick little run and was my old familiar friend again.

Watching him straighten his belt and reach for his coat, I saw the quick, assured movements of a man completely at ease, and felt some of the terror fall away; no-one who looked as comfortable and ready to go to war could possibly come to any harm. Second Lieutenant Archie Buchanan would come home safely in a month or two, having made his family, and me, the proudest we could be, and Europe would be safe thanks to him and those like him.

And then, perhaps, there would be time for us.

Chapter Three

11 November 1916

My nineteenth birthday. A chilly, grey day that nevertheless started out with a vague hope of celebration, then fell flat after breakfast, when I realised I’d be spending it completely alone, but by teatime had flung me headlong into a life I could never have imagined for myself.

Oliver had finally joined the army late last year, to our parents’ aggravation, but just before the compulsory call-up, so at least they could tell people he’d volunteered. He was stationed at Nieuport, on the Belgian coast, and had kept this rare home visit as a birthday surprise—an even more joyful one when I saw he had brought Archie with him. He stood behind Oliver, smiling at me over the top of Oli’s red curls, his own hat removed and tucked beneath his arm. When Oli had released me from an unexpected, but not unwelcome brotherly embrace, Archie took my hand.

‘Happy birthday, darling.’ He bent and kissed my cheek, and I felt my skin glow where his lips had touched, firm and warm.

‘You’ve been promoted,’ I said, accepting a hug but trying not to linger too long in his arms. ‘Congratulations, Captain Buchanan.’

‘Aye, your father’s an uncanny knack of predicting the future.’

‘Except when it comes to this little two-year “storm in a teacup”,’ I pointed out, and he grinned.

‘And how fare you, young Kittlington?’

I pulled a face. ‘Bored, I’m ashamed to say. Can we go riding while you’re here?’

‘I’d have loved to but I can only stay tonight. I’m getting the early train up to Edinburgh, and then to Fort William. Mother’s been waiting a while and she’s not inclined to wait much longer—she keeps threatening to turn up at HQ just to make sure I’m cleaning m’teeth every night!’

I laughed, and hoped he couldn’t see my ridiculous, crushing disappointment. Still, it wasn’t to be helped; family came first. Which reminded me: ‘Oliver, your timing is impeccable—did you somehow know Mother and Father would be out?’

‘They’ve left you alone on your birthday?’ Archie frowned, and I felt a rush of gratitude for his understanding. I’d spent the morning telling myself not to be silly, but it hurt anyway.

‘Really? There’s a bit of luck,’ Oli said, and clapped Archie on the back. ‘Come on, Arch, we’ve got time for some billiards before Father comes in and starts banging on.’

I followed them into the billiard room. Mother wasn’t here to admonish me, and besides Oli hadn’t been home for ages, and Archie was my friend. Why shouldn’t I talk to them?

To my pleased surprise, not even Oli gave me his patented ‘you should be off sewing things’ look, and tolerated my presence. To begin with I just listened to them talking, of things I’d never understand in a million years, I was sure. Trenches I’d heard of, of course, and seen them on the newsreels, filled with cheerfully waving boys, but I’d had no idea there was so much mud and you certainly couldn’t see it in those pictures. To hear Oli and Archie talk you’d think men lived in puddles for days at a time and never had the chance to change their socks. Archie talked of ‘near misses’ that made my fingers curl into the material of my dress, and Oli told him how a tunnel had been spotted by the enemy. Someone hadn’t stopped digging when he ought, and the Germans had heard and blown it up. The explosion, he said, rattled the windows of the nearby town, and… He caught sight of my face and stopped. I think he’d been about to say something about the men who’d been down that tunnel, but thought better of it.

‘Anyway,’ he finished, ‘that was the end of that. The sappers had to start again two days later and thirty yards farther up the line.’ He spoke as if that had been the worst of it, but I could tell by the way his and Archie’s expressions were matched in solemnity that this was far from the truth.

Archie sought to lighten the tone. ‘So, what have you been up to, Kitty? Met a nice lad yet?’

I didn’t want him to see how much that stung, so I just gave him a slightly withering look. ‘How about you—the nurses falling at your feet, I suppose?’

He chuckled. ‘Not that I’ve noticed. And thankfully I don’t come into much contact with them. You’ve never wanted to go into that profession then?’

‘I’ve done some training, but I don’t really have the temperament for putting up with the dreadful snobbery of some of those nurses. Actually I’ve noticed that myself and one or two others tend to be kept away from the patients.’

He had bent over to take his shot, and stopped, looking at me over his cue, an amused smile playing about his lips. ‘You remind me quite strongly of someone I’ve recently met,’ he said. ‘She’s an independent out there. Ambulance driver. They’re always looking for people like you.’

‘Like me?’ I found myself interested, despite the creeping horror their earlier descriptions had elicited. ‘How do you mean?’ Part of me admitted I just wanted to hear him say complimentary things, but another, bigger part, really did yearn to do some good.

‘Level-headed, healthy, sensible.’ He didn’t notice my frustration, and it took all the self-control I had not to break his billiard cue over his stupid head. Was that all he could find to say about me? ‘And,’ he went on, lining up his shot again, ‘preferably already a dab hand with the internal combustion engine, so they wouldn’t have to waste time teaching.’