Wives of War



The bath had been nothing short of heaven-sent. Scarlet had washed her hair, scrubbed her skin, lain still and let the water wash over her, submerged just deep enough to cover her body. It had been warm, and she’d been so desperate to get in that she’d eaten her bread in the bath instead of beforehand. If she hadn’t been so desperately hungry she’d have waited until afterwards, but she was as famished for food as she was for being clean.

As she walked down the cold hall, shivering from her wet hair that she’d pinned back up tidily, she focused only on placing one foot in front of the other. Whatever she was about to face, whatever life she now had to walk into, she would keep her chin up. She had a lot to be thankful for, and she wasn’t going to mourn the rest of her days for a man she had briefly fallen in love with, because what had happened with James couldn’t happen again, no matter what love her heart was brimming to full with. She had to be dutiful. It was the only option.

Scarlet walked through the door at the same time as a plate was hurled from one side of the room to the other. She stopped, frozen mid-step. Spencer was standing in the middle of the room and Thomas was still seated, his arm raised from hurling the plate. She took a breath and forced herself to keep going.

‘Goodness, that was a mighty good throw,’ she said, walking straight over to Thomas and smiling down at him. It seemed the other soldier was still asleep, although she was certain the noise would have made him stir. ‘Perhaps I should have made it clear that Doctor Black is a dear friend of mine. He’s married to Ellie, a nurse I’ve worked alongside since London.’

Thomas stared up at her, his eyes empty, as if a light had gone out with no hope of it being switched back on.

‘I want another doctor,’ Thomas said flatly, looking away.

Scarlet turned her eyes to Spencer, saw nothing but kindness there and knew he must have been the bearer of bad news.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Scarlet continued, wanting to keep talking for something to do, and hopefully to settle Thomas, to make him feel more like himself again, a connection to the past drawing him out of his shell. ‘You were so very lucky to be rescued.’

‘I’d be better off dead.’

Scarlet had heard those words a lot; they’d often echoed through her mind as she sterilised a bone saw in preparation for surgery, knowing she was about to assist in the amputation of a young man’s leg or arm. Maybe two limbs. Then afterwards, once the doctors and the anaesthetist were gone, they were the words that filtered through her again as she cleaned up all the blood – blood that seemed to splatter everywhere, as if to remind her with every speck of what they’d taken from a man.

She’d talked soldiers through this before, and she was equipped to talk Thomas through it, too.

‘If you were dead you wouldn’t be able to marry me,’ Scarlet said softly. ‘I’ve come all this way, believed you were alive for so long, and now you’re telling me that instead of looking forward to a life with me, you’d rather be dead?’

Thomas didn’t look at her, but she continued anyway.

‘Those men buried in the yard didn’t get any choice, Thomas. Those soldiers who died would give anything to get another chance to be with their families, and yet here you are moaning about injuries that won’t stop you from living. They certainly won’t stop me from loving you.’

He still looked away, his gaze levelled on the fire, the embers still burning. She knew she was playing on his memories of the friends he’d lost, making him feel guilty for wishing for death instead of a life with her, but it was the only way she knew how to get through to him.

‘Thomas, I need you to change your attitude. I need you to be strong and look forward to going home. To seeing your family again and celebrating the fact that you made it. That, against all odds, I found you.’ She paused, lowering herself slowly into the seat beside him. ‘I need you to see that for the miracle it is.’

Thomas finally turned to her, stared at her. ‘Leave me,’ he said coldly.

Scarlet opened her mouth to speak again, to reassure him. But the deathly stare he gave her made her press her lips together instead.

‘Leave me!’ he shouted.

She glanced at Spencer and then rose, refusing to cry or show any other emotion. His words were cold, cruel even, but he was battling demons that only he could face. If he didn’t want her by his side, then there was nothing she could do about it other than do as he asked. One day she’d be pledging to obey him, so she may as well get some practice in now.

Spencer ushered her from the room and she held it together as best she could, refusing to give in to the torrent of unhappiness that was surging helpless inside of her.

‘Scarlet, he’s struggling, and it’s easier to lash out at you than face what he’s going through,’ he told her. ‘Most of the time the men we operate on – they don’t get time to think about what’s happened to them, haven’t had time to dwell on their situation. We certainly don’t even talk to them half the time about their amputations because we are coping as best we can with patient after patient, making fast decisions to save their lives.’

She knew that. It was what she’d been living day after day, week after week, month after month. Only she was the one talking to the patients and nursing them, wiping away their tears and mashing their food so they could swallow it. It was the nurses dealing with the soldiers when the doctors were gone, so she did understand what Thomas was going through.

‘Have you examined him already?’ she asked, weary as she stood in the cold, arms wrapped around herself.

‘The plate-throwing was the aftermath,’ Spencer said, rubbing his head as if it were sore.

‘And?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not good. There’s no gangrene that I can detect, the nuns have been fastidious with their care, but my concern is that he may develop an infection and that his spine has suffered a terrible trauma. Most likely the impact from the crash. He has some movement, but not a lot, and it seems he’s partially sighted in one eye now.’ Spencer’s shoulders rose then fell. ‘Whether he will make a recovery from this and walks again is unknown. His legs haven’t completely wasted away yet, but I will need to do a more thorough examination when we’re at the hospital. The other patient is doing well, and with sufficient rest and medical attention should be able to return to active duty in the near future.’

Scarlet nodded. It was hard to believe that the other men they’d been with were dead, despite every effort being made to save their lives. It was equally a miracle that Thomas had survived the crash, let alone been taken to safety and then found by her. She’d been right to believe he’d survive.

Soraya M. Lane's books