I felt painfully visible all afternoon, as if I had a brand on my chest. The men, however, had apparently found their little rebellion quite satisfying, and when they were released from their rooms for luncheon, they were well behaved. A few of them gave me brief, half-formed smiles or quiet nods, but most of them went back to their own preoccupations. And yet I knew, of course, that in rooms where I wasn’t present, among the patients and the staff alike, my scene with Syd was the talk of the day.
The men were sent to afternoon rest after tea, and I was sent on rounds. I took advantage when no one was looking and slipped into Jack’s room. He was sitting on his window seat, barefoot again.
“Kitty,” he said when he saw me.
“I don’t have much time,” I told him. “I came to thank you. And to get a moment of privacy. I’d rather not hide in the lav again.”
He got up and came toward me, looking at my face. “I can see the mark,” he said. “I’d like to go at him again.”
I shrugged, my heart skipping. “It will fade.” I looked up at him. “You’re not being punished in isolation.”
“No, I’ve been banished to my room for the rest of the day. I think it’s the best thing Matron could think of. She must be off her game.”
I shook my head. “Jack, he recognized you.”
“I noticed.”
“I haven’t seen my brother since before he left for the war. I don’t know him, not really. I don’t know what he’ll do.”
“Tell the newspapers, probably.” He leaned closer, looking at my cheek. “You told me it was your father you were running from.”
“It was.”
“You look a little cheerful about it.”
“I don’t know,” I said, the words coming in a rush. “I don’t know. I feel so light somehow, Jack. I’m humiliated and afraid, and yet a part of me feels like I’m going to fly away on one of those hot-air balloons. I was so used to running and hiding. But I think now it was an anchor weighing me down. Do you think that’s even possible?”
“What happened?” he asked, instead of answering me. “What has changed?”
I ran a hand over one of my cheeks, hot with emotion, wanting to feel myself, wanting to be here inside my own skin for the first time. “He’s dying, Jack. My father is dying. That’s what Syd came for.”
Jack’s blue eyes puzzled over this for a moment, and then he understood. “He thought you would go home for a tearful reunion?”
“He was sure of it.” I watched his expression cloud over. “I don’t care,” I confessed. “I’m a bad person for being happy about him dying, and I’ll probably go to hell, and I don’t care. He’ll be dead and he won’t be able to hurt me anymore.”
Jack listened to this carefully, as he always listened to me. Beneath his shirt I could see the lines of his collarbones, the warm hollow where they met at the base of his throat. If I leaned forward I would feel him breathing, feel his chest rise and fall. He looked down at me for a long moment, watching me look at him. “This seems like a good time to give you your gift,” he said.
“Gift?”
He walked to his bedside table—I didn’t want to look, but I noticed his bed was mussed, as if he’d been lying on it, and I pushed the picture from my mind—and took up a book. He turned and handed it to me. “It isn’t much, but you did ask for it.”
It was a battered copy of Homer’s Odyssey, taken from the library shelf in the common room. I’d never asked him for a book. “What is this for?”
“Open it.”
I did, and I saw pieces of letter paper between the pages, perhaps a dozen of them. I examined them.
“It was the best way,” Jack said as he watched me. “These uniforms don’t have pockets, and I can’t leave papers around or they’ll be confiscated. So instead I appear to be rereading The Odyssey at bedtime.”
The papers were all handwritten, each one in a different writing. “What are these?”
“Our dreams,” he replied.
I looked up at him, remembering I’d asked him to find out what the men dreamed about. “You got them to write down their dreams?”
“Almost all of them. Tom claims he doesn’t dream, or in any case he doesn’t remember them. MacInnes is a slow writer, so he’s still working on his. And Creeton told me to go fuck myself.”
“How did you do this?” I stared in disbelief at the pages. “I didn’t see anyone writing.”
“We all get paper allotments to write letters every week, but no one uses it. What can we say in a letter, after all? ‘Dear Mum, all well, still barking mad. Sorry.’ They read them all anyway, so why bother? As for the writing, afternoon rest or the loo are just about the only times. There’s no light to write by at night. And the nurses”—he grinned—“usually check on us during afternoon rest.”
I riffled through the papers. “What about your dreams?” I asked softly. “Are they in here, too?”
“They have to be, or it wouldn’t be fair. Would it?”
“No.”
“Then you’ll have to guess which one is mine. We didn’t sign them.”
I folded the pages and put them in the pocket of my apron. I still felt curiously weightless and free, and I smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
He blinked. “If it will make you smile like that, I’ll hide in the loo and write a novel.”
And just like that, the moment changed. I’d wanted to touch him since the moment I’d walked through the door and seen him, but now he was looking at me, that deep blue gaze on me, and I wouldn’t get a chance again. I put my hand on the back of his neck, rose up, and kissed him.
I’d never kissed a man before. Part of me thought it might be a quick thing, a chaste peck, but his mouth was warm and soft, and I lingered. Then he put his hand on my jaw and kissed me back, swift and hungry, as if he meant it. He didn’t touch me but for his hand, didn’t pull me to him, but he held me close and kissed me a second time, this time softer, but so hungry he bit my lip as we pulled apart, and his eyes when I looked into them had lost all their politeness.
“That was for being Brave Jack,” I said, my voice a husky breath.
“I’d brave all the fires of hell,” he said, “to see you naked.”
I was shocked, but the elated part of my brain flew even higher. I wouldn’t have minded the nakedness going the other way, but I didn’t know how to say it, not really. Instead I put my palm on his chest, feeling the hard, steady beat of his heart, just as I had imagined it, and said, “I have to go.”
He put his hand over mine, that fine, graceful hand, and pulled it from his chest. He turned my arm, bent, and pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist, hot and lingering, as I ran my tongue along the spot on my lip he’d bitten. “Good night, Kitty,” he said.
I took one unsteady step back, and then another. “Good night,” I said shakily, and I left the room.
? ? ?
“What did he mean, Kitty,” Martha said that evening, “when he said you’re not a nurse?”
I was getting ready for bed, putting The Odyssey on my bedside table, and I stopped. In her corner, Nina didn’t even pause as she undid her apron.
I looked at Martha. She was preparing for night shift after her short sleep, tucking up her hair. “Are you all right?” I said. “You look exhausted.”
“It’s just a headache, that’s all. I’ve had it all day. A nuisance more than anything. But what about your brother saying you’re not a nurse? That was a strange thing for him to say.”
I didn’t want to lie to her. And perhaps, just perhaps, she could have handled the truth. But I remembered her red-faced exclamation to Syd: She is too a nurse! You leave her alone! And I knew that if I spoke now, I’d make a liar out of her. Part of me couldn’t countenance it.
“Matron hired me,” I hedged. “Do you think she would have hired a girl who wasn’t a nurse?”
“Well, I know we’ve been desperate for girls,” Martha said thoughtfully, oblivious to how close she danced to the truth, “but even so, that doesn’t sound like something Matron would do.”
“Of course,” I said. “My brother hasn’t seen me in five years. He doesn’t know the first thing about me.”
She thought it over, looked relieved. “Then you’re well rid of him,” she said. “Good night.”
Nina and I were silent after Martha left. Nina polished her spectacles. Finally I couldn’t stand it. “Wonderful,” I said to her. “Just wonderful. How long have you known?”
“Since practically the first day,” she said without inflection. “You couldn’t fold a hospital bedsheet to save your life, Kitty, and it’s the first thing we all learn.”
I sighed and lay back on my bed. Today was the day, it seemed, when my secrets went up in vapor. And the day I’d kissed Jack Yates. “Don’t blame Matron. Mr. Deighton hired me while Matron was away, and by the time she figured it out, I was already here and she was desperate. So she put me to work.”
“It does explain why she had you clean that lav,” Nina said.
I peered over at her. “You’re not angry? I thought you’d be livid.”
She sat on the edge of her bed, her nightdress bulky and awkward. “It wasn’t my place to say anything,” she said. “Matron had sent you, after all. And you worked hard enough. And as for Martha, well, I may as well tell you. You’re not the only one lying to her.”