Lily nodded. ‘Enjoy yourself. I’ll be in the other room if you need me.’ She paused then spoke more quietly. ‘You’ll find a ring there, in the box. Spencer asked for permission to give it to you. It belonged to his grandmother. I suspect he’d have liked to give it to you himself, but given how long you’ve been waiting for him, I think it’s only proper that you have it now.’
Ellie waited until her mother-in-law was gone before slowly moving over to the small table, hand hovering over the letters that were waiting to be read. She tried not to think about the ring, but curiosity got the better of her and she lifted the letters out to find it. She gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth as she stared down at the gold and diamond ring. It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. The type of jewellery that she’d certainly never imagined herself having.
Ellie slipped it on to her finger, held it out and admired the shine of the diamonds in the light of the lamps. But the moment felt surreal, especially without Spencer at her side, and she slid it off as quickly as she’d put it on, placing it carefully back in the box. She wanted it, would love to have the weight of it on her finger, but she wanted Spencer to give it to her, to wear it once he returned. For now, the melted-down links of his gold watch were more than sufficient, and they’d hold a place on her finger for ever.
Turning to the letters once more, Ellie recognised the familiar scrawl of Spencer’s handwriting, and she lowered herself into the chair after plucking the first letter from the pile. The ring was beautiful, but the thought of reading his words was comforting, and it was comfort she was craving. Ellie took a deep breath and touched a hand to her stomach, intending on reading aloud so their baby could hear words penned by his father’s hand.
Dear Mother,
Would you believe that I’ve met a girl? A lovely nurse named Ellie. I can’t tell you exactly where we are, but I can tell you that, despite the horrors of what I’m seeing on a daily basis, she is making it impossible for me not to smile. I know you’d like her. She’s different, a strong Irish-born lass, but there is something so happy and bright about her, as if she were put on my service to make each day bearable. I hope you get to meet her one day, because if we both make it home in one piece, I will certainly be bringing her home for supper. I miss you terribly, and I think of you often all alone. Stay strong for me, as I will stay strong for you. Perhaps the thought of a daughter-in-law once the war is over will be enough to bring a smile to your face.
With all my love,
Spencer
Ellie fell forward, the letter clutched in her hand as she started to sob. For all the nights she’d spent without him, for the future they’d both imagined that could so easily be snatched away by the war, and for the bouncing baby kicking away, oblivious to the world he or she would enter. Perhaps a world without a father.
‘Ellie, it’s so lovely to see you, but I’m afraid Lucy isn’t, well, up to having visitors.’
Ellie straightened her shoulders, not prepared to walk away for a second time. It wasn’t Lucy’s mother’s fault, she was only the gatekeeper, but she’d come all this way and she was going to see Lucy.
‘Lucy’s stubborn, I already know that,’ Ellie said, smiling. ‘She forgets that I spent months with her acting like she was a doctor, not a nurse. When she makes her mind up, I’m well aware it’s not easy to change it.’
That made her mother laugh. ‘That’s my daughter for you. Nearly drove her father to drink before the war with all that talk about women being able to do anything and wanting to be a doctor herself.’
Ellie reached out, placed her hand over the older woman’s arm. ‘Lucy means the world to me, and I need to see her. Let her tell me herself that she doesn’t want company, and I promise I’ll walk straight back out of that door and not bother you again.’
She kept her hand there, their eyes locked, until Lucy’s mother stepped back. ‘In some ways she’s lost herself, lost the spark that used to make her so strong. But she’s angry, too, Ellie. I’ll apologise now for anything she says to hurt you.’
‘I’m stronger than I look,’ Ellie said with a grin. ‘Besides, Lucy was there for me when I was at my lowest; now it’s my turn.’
Ellie let herself be led down the hall, stopping when Lucy’s mother paused to push open a door. She stood back and Ellie stepped in, surprised at the cloak of darkness. It was past midday yet the curtains were still drawn, a small lamp the only ray of light in the corner of the room.
‘Lucy?’ she asked, stepping forward.
‘I told you already, I don’t want to see you or anyone else.’
Ellie strode across the room and pushed back the curtains. ‘You can say that till the cows come home, but I’m not listening.’
‘No!’ Lucy screamed.
Ellie spun around, eyes finding Lucy, seeing her for the first time. A gasp caught in her throat as she stared, fighting to avert her eyes from Lucy’s skin. Now she understood why the room was dark.
‘I look like a monster, don’t I?’ Lucy whispered.
Ellie walked slowly towards her, the shock still humming through her body as she felt her friend’s pain. ‘No, Lucy. You don’t.’
‘Just go home. I don’t want to talk, I don’t want you to look at me, and I don’t want your pity or sympathy.’
Ellie unbuttoned her jacket and pulled it back, pointing at her large, rounded stomach. ‘You see this?’ she asked, staring at Lucy.
Lucy looked up, arms folded as she sat on the bed.
‘This means that I’m the one wanting sympathy! You think I came here to give it, then you are very, very wrong. I thought you knew me better than that.’
Lucy’s mouth turned up at the corners, but the faint smile was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
‘I’m carrying a baby around in here, he moves constantly, I have to go to the toilet a hundred times every night and I can’t sleep,’ Ellie continued, sitting down on the single chair in the room near the bed. ‘So now that I’ve hauled this stomach of mine all the way here, you do not get to play the sympathy card. Not to me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy mumbled. ‘I . . . I . . .’ she stuttered, something the Lucy in France would never have done. ‘I don’t want anyone to see me because I don’t know how to behave, how to be this new version of me.’
‘Sweetheart, you’re still the same you,’ Ellie said softly. ‘So your skin is all burnt. It doesn’t change who you are!’
‘It does,’ Lucy said, sounding miserable. ‘It changes everything.’
‘What are you afraid of?’ Ellie asked.
‘People staring at me, other women making fun of me,’ she whispered, tears falling like big dollops of rain down her cheeks. ‘Nothing used to scare me, and now everything does.’
Ellie sighed. ‘Let me see properly,’ she said. Of all the girls, she’d had the weakest stomach, but Lucy’s burns were healed; they were nothing like what they’d had to deal with.
‘No.’