‘So tell me,’ he said firmly. ‘I want to know what happened.’
Lucy stared at her hands and took a shaky breath, hating the idea of reliving the moment that had changed everything. ‘We were transferring from our field hospital to Brussels,’ she told him. ‘It was supposed to be a nice change, somewhere with better facilities and plenty to look forward to, and instead I ended up being rushed there as a patient with burns that almost killed me.’ She stopped, nails digging into her fisted palms as she fought to find the words to continue. ‘I was injured in an enemy blast when I was trying to save the lives of some young children on the side of the road. There were SS troops hidden. They must have injured the children in the first place.’
‘I can’t imagine what you’ve been through,’ Jack said.
She smiled. ‘But you can, Jack. You’ve been there, you’ve been injured for your bravery, lived through hell over there. I was doing nothing more than what so many of our soldiers have done, yet I’m a woman and somehow that’s seen as different.’
Jack took a step forward and she went to move back before realising that she couldn’t back up any further.
‘You are nothing like most of the soldiers I know, I promise you that. You’re the woman who bravely told me she was going to be a doctor one day and be damned with what anyone else thought,’ he murmured. ‘And I don’t give a damn about your burns. You deserve them, Lucy, because you risked your life to save another. They should remind you every day of your bravery.’
She wanted to believe his words, to believe that he didn’t see her any differently. But she couldn’t, because she knew the reality, knew how ugly she looked.
‘Please, Jack. Can’t you leave me in peace?’
He leaned in, cupped her chin and pressed a soft, warm kiss to her lips. The feel of his mouth brushing hers almost made her feel like herself again, even though she knew it was a goodbye kiss.
‘It was good seeing you, Lucy.’
Jack walked backwards, holding up his hand, a smile on his face that she knew she’d never forget. This was it. This was goodbye. One last kiss, in the dark as if she were still normal, unmarred by war, and now he was gone.
She held up her hand in a wave, knowing that her mother was probably watching from inside, hoping she didn’t ask her too many questions until she’d had the chance to pull herself together.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow!’ he called out.
Lucy blinked, wondered if she’d heard him right. Her right ear was damaged, but she’d thought she’d heard him say . . .
‘Pardon?’ she yelled out.
‘You heard me,’ he replied, before whistling and disappearing down the road.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Scarlet
Scarlet rushed inside, the washing hanging on the line forgotten. Her heart was beating so fast she could hardly breathe, her arms pumping at her sides as she ran.
‘Thomas!’ she called, bursting into the house. ‘Thomas! Germany has surrendered!’
She couldn’t hear him, wasn’t sure where he was in the house. She walked through, stopping outside the front room when she saw his silhouette. Of course he was in there. He could have moved his wheelchair on his own to another room or even another spot, there was nothing wrong with his arms, but she was used to him not doing anything without her assistance. Being told her husband could walk if he set his mind to it was one thing, but forcing him to do it? She had decided it was an impossible task.
‘Thomas, did you hear me?’ she said, breathless, as she stood pressed against the doorjamb. ‘Thomas, Germany has surrendered. It’s over.’
He didn’t say anything, back turned to her, not even a flicker of movement that showed he’d heard her. She’d preferred it when his mother was staying with them, but she’d returned home and now here she was trying to pretend everything was fine. Every day was a struggle, every hour of every day driving her a little further into a desperate kind of sadness that she wondered if she’d ever manage to emerge from. But this was news to celebrate.
She walked around, placed a hand on his shoulder, and tried to summon the strength to be sweet, kind and patient with him. Every day it was harder to pretend that she was happy to be married to him, harder to remember why she’d ever wanted to marry this man who was equal parts cruel, miserable and depressed. But then she’d remind herself what he’d been through and try to be patient all over again. She nursed her arm, glancing down at the bruise. Being patient to a man who tried to hurt her, who grabbed her around the wrist so tight sometimes she’d been certain he’d snap it, was starting to become tiresome.
‘The news just came through on the wireless,’ she told him, stroking the back of his neck, trying to push her thoughts and fears away. ‘Mr Grey next door told me. I was out hanging the washing and—’
‘Leave me,’ he muttered, smacking away her hand.
‘Thomas, I know you’re suffering, but it wouldn’t hurt you to make an effort. Please.’
‘Leave,’ he muttered again.
Scarlet couldn’t stand another moment in the stuffy room. He wouldn’t let her air it, complaining of the cold, and he never wanted to come out into the sunshine with her on a nice day and sit in the garden, or simply sit and enjoy a cup of tea with her and ask her about her day – about anything.
She was nursing as many days a week as she could, doing whatever was needed, but because Thomas refused to do anything, she was his nurse, too, which was a job in itself. The only things that saved her were the letters she received from Ellie. Scarlet hadn’t been able to visit her, not being able to leave Thomas for long and with every day so full to bursting with nursing and caring. But now that Germany had surrendered, it gave her hope that the war and all its atrocities would well and truly be over soon. Their elderly neighbour, Mr Grey, had had tears in his eyes when he’d told her, a smile on his face so wide that it alone had made Scarlet rush over to him. To hear the news, to know that no more innocent people would die at the hands of the Nazis – it took a weight from her shoulders.
She heard the post being pushed through the letter box. She ran into the hall, grabbed the single letter and hurried out to call to the postman.
‘Did you hear the news?’ she cried.
The kindly older man raised his hand in the air and waved to her. ‘Best news an old man could wish for!’ he called back.
‘Scarlet.’
She turned, a letter in her hand, wondering who was saying her name. The envelope dropped the moment her eyes fell upon James. He was standing in the street, in uniform, his eyes locked on hers. Scarlet froze; she couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. How was he here? Why was he here?