‘You’ve heard the news?’ he asked, as if they hadn’t just seen each other for the first time in months, since the day he’d been sent home from France.
‘James, I . . .’ She couldn’t stop staring at him. Tears prickled her eyes, made her wish she never had to see him again, the man that reminded her of what could have been. ‘It’s so good to see you again,’ she managed.
‘And you,’ he said, stepping forward and brushing a kiss to her cheek. ‘I’ve missed you.’
Scarlet wanted to cling on to him, to dig her nails into his jacket and hold him tight. She needed a touch, a kindness, some tenderness to balance out the pain that was in her home and her heart, but she fought to keep it all down, to not show how badly she was struggling.
‘I would have come sooner to see Thomas, but I was reposted almost the same time as he was sent home,’ James said.
Of course she knew all this, had listened to his mother talk about her other son when she’d been to visit. That he was in England still, that his duties had changed. Every time he was mentioned she’d silently tucked away every snippet of information into her memory to savour later.
‘Please, come in and see him,’ she said, hating how formal and stiff she sounded. ‘You’re always welcome to visit, and I’m sure he’ll be so happy to see you.’
James laughed. ‘Mother has made it more than clear to me that he’s not happy about anything.’
She nodded, not about to lie to the one person who’d surely see through any falseness.
‘How are you?’ he asked quietly as they walked inside, him slightly behind her. ‘Is Thomas at least treating you well?’
Scarlet forced a smile. ‘We’re doing the best we can,’ she dissembled.
‘Who are you talking to?’ Thomas yelled out.
‘Your brother is here!’ she called back, trying to sound happy. ‘James has called to see you.’
James moved past her, glancing back and smiling at her, so soft and kind, making every bit of strength within her threaten to shatter like glass.
‘Thomas! I hear the war didn’t treat you so well, my brother.’
‘Get out, J,’ Thomas snarled, turning his chair around to stare at his younger brother. ‘I don’t want to see your uniform or your legs or your smug face.’
James glanced at her again and she gave him a tight smile. It was all she could do.
‘Thomas, come on now. Is it so bad to have a visitor?’ James said. ‘It’s good to see you.’
Thomas glared at him from his seat as James walked over, closer to him. ‘You’ve got what you always wanted now. You win.’
‘I haven’t won anything,’ James said in a low voice. ‘You think I’ve won something? That it doesn’t kill me that my brother is in a wheelchair and my friends died? That I saw what I saw over there? Did what I did?’
Thomas had a look pass over his face, a sadness that made Scarlet wonder if James was going to be the breakthrough that he so sorely needed.
‘Darling, would you like me to get us something?’ Scarlet asked, refusing to look at James as she moved closer and slung an arm around Thomas, leaning low so that she was part of the conversation. ‘Tea perhaps?’
He shoved her roughly, pushed at her so hard that she stumbled back, recoiling. James reached for her, catching her and quickly righting her.
‘Thomas!’ she scolded.
‘It’s one thing to feel sorry for yourself, and another thing entirely to take it out on your wife,’ James said, glaring at his brother.
‘She’s my wife, and I’ll treat her as I damn well please,’ Thomas said. ‘I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.’
Scarlet looked at James. She hated that he’d seen that. It had been hard enough for her adjusting to being a wife, being a personal nurse and emotional punching bag to the person who was supposed to love her and care for her, but this was too much. Going from society girl to nurse had been tough, but it was another thing entirely to return home and be in her own personal hell, to be trapped in a marriage. Her family liked to pretend everything was fine, her mother sympathetic but telling her to remain stoic no matter how hard things became.
‘What happened to you, Thomas? What made you like this?’ she heard James ask as she walked away.
‘Look at my damn legs!’ Thomas bellowed.
‘I’m talking about the way you spoke to your wife. The monster that you’ve turned into. Where is my brother?’ James demanded. Then he added, ‘Have you hurt her before?’
Scarlet walked straight out of the front door and stood, trembling as she tried to calm down. She didn’t want to see James again, and she desperately needed to get out of the house.
‘Scarlet, wait.’
She paused, took a deep breath before turning around and looking straight into James’s eyes. She’d been wrong. She couldn’t be happy to see him, she couldn’t have him close without wanting what she would never have.
‘I’m sorry. For the way he’s treating you, I’m so, so sorry.’
‘I need you to not come back here, James,’ she said, her voice wobbling as she tried to get the words out. ‘You’re only making things worse, for both of us.’
He opened his mouth to say something else but she couldn’t stay to listen. Tears flooded her eyes and she turned and ran, away from the one man she wished she didn’t ever have to part from.
The sun was shining and Scarlet turned her face up to it for a moment, enjoying the warmth on her skin. Her favourite thing when she wasn’t working was to get out into the fresh air, for even a few minutes, any excuse to leave the confines of her house, to linger in the garden and feel the sun or wind against her skin. And every time it reminded her of the day she’d heard James’s voice behind her, seen his face for the first time in months. She’d relived that moment every single day since.
With one last sigh, she reluctantly went back into the house. As she shut the door, she saw a letter poking out from the letter box that she hadn’t noticed before. She smiled to herself, wondering who it was from. She’d been hoping for a letter from Lucy to stop her worrying about her all the time, or a nice happy letter from Ellie to enjoy, but this one was in a hand she didn’t recognise. It was also addressed only to her. She frowned and quickly ripped it open. When she scanned to the end to see who it was from, her legs weakened beneath her. James. The letter was from James.
She had tried so hard not to think about him these past two weeks, not to imagine how different things could have been. Because if she did that, if she remembered how sweet and fun and exciting he was, every day with Thomas would be even more torturous that it already was. Besides, she was still ashamed of what he’d seen that day, when Thomas had been so deliberately cruel.