Wives of War by Soraya M. Lane
PART ONE
London, 1944
CHAPTER ONE
Scarlet
Scarlet Alexander shut her eyes tight, one hand held high in the air as the wind brushed cold against her skin. She was clutching a letter between her fingers, waiting to let it go, because she had nowhere to post it to, no way of knowing whether her fiancé would ever receive it if she did send it. She knew the words by heart, had recited them so many times that she was certain she’d never forget them.
Dear Thomas,
I don’t know where you are, and I doubt you’ll ever read this, but I want you to know that I’ll never give up on finding you. I wish we lived in different times, that we could have already married and had a family, and that you didn’t have to fight so bravely for our country. One day. I keep telling myself that one day we will look back on this as a distant memory, surrounded by our children and sharing tales of the time when everyone else told me to brace myself for the worst kind of news, before you walked back into our lives.
Yours for ever,
Scarlet
The wind whistled, ice cold now, making her knuckles ache. She shouldn’t have told the driver to go, shouldn’t have been so insistent on making her own way to the station. But if she couldn’t stand the cold now, being alone and having to fend for herself, then she knew she’d never have the strength to survive wherever it was she was posted.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Scarlet slowly let the letter go, allowed it to slip from her fingertips. She turned and watched it soar, violently taken by a gasp of wind, slowly disappearing from sight. This was it. She’d held on to the letter for weeks now, wanting to send it but not knowing where. It had been so long since she’d had a letter in reply that she was afraid Thomas was gone, that she would never see his smile ever again. Except for the tiny voice inside her head, the one that kept telling her not to lose hope. Even his own mother seemed uncertain, but Scarlet wasn’t going to give up so easily.
‘Miracles happen every day.’ She murmured the words, bent to collect her bag and straightened her shoulders. Scarlet took a deep breath and started to walk. She could do this. She just had to swallow her fears, stay focused, and do her bit. She was new to nursing – it wasn’t like they were going to make her do anything she wasn’t prepared for, and if she found Thomas along the way . . . Scarlet walked faster, head ducked down as the wind slapped her cheeks.
If she found Thomas, it would be worth anything.
Scarlet dug her fingers into her palm as she fisted her hand, the other clutching her bag tight. This was it. This was her chance to do her bit, to be part of the war effort. She only hoped she was stronger than her family gave her credit for, because not even her mother had seemed to believe she would go through with becoming a military nurse. She could still hear the high pitch of her voice, snapping at her over afternoon tea that she hadn’t exactly been bred to care for others.
But she’d done it, and there was nothing her mother or father could do to stop her now that she’d made her mind up. All she had to do was believe in herself.
She looked up at the sky, breathed in the cold, damp air, glanced at the oak trees as they waved their branches in greeting to her. It was as if even the weather knew they were at war, it was so unseasonably cold. Scarlet had no idea where she would end up, but she doubted that anything about where she was going would seem familiar to her. Would she be able to sleep at night with the sounds of war so close? Would she be able to do her job, have a strong enough stomach for the wounds she knew she’d be tending? Scarlet swallowed a lump in her throat, digging her nails deeper into her palm as she walked.
She could do it. For Thomas, she could do it. Just like she’d already survived her military training on the outskirts of London that she’d been certain would kill her at the time.
The railway station was unbearably loud – too many people in a small space, the sound of a train pulling into the platform and being loaded until it was brimming with humans and baggage making Scarlet want to run. But she didn’t, because she’d left home now and she wasn’t going to run back to her parents and admit she’d been wrong.
She folded her arms tightly around herself, thankful for her warm coat as she found a bench to sit and wait on. She wondered if Thomas was warm, then sighed. More likely unbearably cold and lying in a trench. She understood from his early letters that the conditions weren’t great, even though as an officer he most likely had it better than some, but she hadn’t received a letter for months now, so she had no idea what it was like for him. He’d endured almost eighteen months before she’d met him when he was home on leave, but she still worried.
Looking around now that the station wasn’t so busy, she noticed other women, some alone, others with families. She tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear and took a slow, deep breath. What she needed to do was make a friend, someone to talk to, so she could stop worrying. Too much idle time, her mother had always said, was a very dangerous thing – although her mother would have preferred she fill it with socialising and ladylike pursuits – and the last few hours, even days, she’d had far too much time to think.
Scarlet was about to stand up when someone sat down next to her and stuck out a hand. She looked up into dark eyes and a huge smile.
‘I’m Ellie. Are you waiting for the train?’
Scarlet laughed. She couldn’t help herself. ‘Well, I’m not just sitting here for something fun to do.’
Ellie stared at her blankly, and Scarlet quickly took her hand. ‘I’m Scarlet. Sorry, I’m nervous and that was supposed to be a joke.’
Ellie laughed and shook her hand up and down before letting go. ‘Bloody hell! I thought you were just rude.’