Chapter 1
George Crawley was in absolute, excruciating pain. He couldn't feel his leg, and the dirt he was lying in matched the dust clouds billowing through the sky. He looked up, weakly, trying to breathe, but he couldn't make himself look down. The blood spilling into the dust told him all he needed to know. He was going to die on a dusty battlefield many miles from home, and no one would ever remember him.
Someone picked him up. "You're not dying yet, Crawley!" It was his best friend, Private Kent. He started carrying him, the sound of gunfire echoing around them. The blood staining his uniform was giving off a terrible stench. The stench of death.
"Kent." He hissed, trying to focus on something other than the pain.
"What, Crawley?" He answered, looking down at him. His face was extremely dirty, just as George's was.
"Leave me." He said, but then more gunfire drowned out his words. Kent stumbled and fell, dropping George, who was in what felt like hell. The last thing George remembered was the dust cloud clearing, and the sight of a bit of blue sky. Then the world went black.
St. Bart's Hospital, London, November 19th, 1939
"Nurse!" The matron shouted. Lilly turned, sure that the Matron was talking to her.
"Yes, Nurse Borthwick?" She asked politely.
"I want you and Nurse Martin to prepare Ward 3 today. We have more soldiers coming in from the front, and by the sound of it, their wounds are ghastly. It won't be pretty."
"Yes Nurse Borthwick." She said, running to the nurses' station. Pam was waiting for her.
"So what's the news?"
"Ward 3…" Lilly panted. "Injured soldiers coming in from the front."
"Oh." Pam stood up from her chair, and said. "I've got a letter from my mother."
"What does she say?" Lilly asked.
"She says that James enlisted yesterday, because they need as many able bodied men at the front as possible."
"William enlisted a few days ago." Lilly said calmly. "It was our birthday last week, and he was officially old enough."
"Aren't you scared for him?"
"No, mama and papa aren't, they say he'll be fine." Lilly said, trying to hide how anxious she was.
Picking up a pile of fresh sheets from the hospital laundry, the two young ladies walked down to the ward together, and began preparing it for when the soldiers would arrive. Two other nurses, Jessica and Samantha arrived to help, but didn't stay long. They were discussing how they'd been asked to help with an amputation of a soldier's leg the day before. Pam had turned a pale shade of pink as they'd teased her about the soldier who fancied her, a Desmond Hume. But before long, the ward was ready and the girls headed back to the main ward. Nurse Borthwick was standing there. "Good, I'm glad you're all back. While you were all dallying in the ward, two more men died of infection."
The mood immediately changed, as the girls got back to work. By the end of the day, Lilly was exhausted, but it wasn't any different from when she'd worked in the kitchen of her parents' hotel back home. Home… a few hours away now. She and Pam walked back to the nurses' residence together, joking and laughing just like always. But the conversation turned serious after a few minutes.
"So you know I was talking to Desmond today…" Pam said softly.
"Yes, I remembered." Lilly said softly.
"He asked me to marry him." Lilly looked over at Pam in shock, only to find her blushing and grinning like a silly schoolgirl.
"What did you say?" Lilly squealed.
"That I would." Pam said smugly. She pulled a sparkling ring from her pocket. "The only problem is we have to wait until he's healed. The infection is almost healed, so it won't be long now."
"What if… What if they won't let you get married? You're eighteen, and he's… How old is Desmond?"
"Twenty-two." Pam said hastily. "Not that it matters, they'll let him. He told me that he's been doing some research and we'd go to the registrars' office, and spend the night in a hotel. He's promised me just as soon as he's better."
"And will he have to go back to the Front?" Lilly asked, hating to burst her friend's bubble.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Pam said softly, looking ahead. She was surprised when Lilly attacked her with a hug.
"I cannot believe it! I've known you since we were four years old, and here you are, engaged to be married!"
"You'll be next, with any luck!" Pam promised.
"I don't think so." Lilly said. "My mom was thirty-three when she married my dad, and he was fifty. So I intend on waiting until I find someone I can love forever, like my parents."
"Oh, ever the romantic." Pam rolled her eyes. "Just wait, you'll find some fair-haired soldier who'll sweep you off your feet! And then we'll see who's the one getting married in a hurry!"
Together the two of them ran inside the residence, just as it started to rain. The next day, new soldiers would be arriving, and that should provide plenty of challenge.
St. Bart's Hospital, London, November 20th, 1939.
George woke up, and the first thing he saw was a beautiful young woman with dark hair, and bright blue eyes in a nurses' uniform staring back at him.
"Private Crawley, how are you feeling?" She asked softly, smiling.
"Like someone grinded glass into my leg." He said.
"That would be your bullet wound." She said. "But we should be able to remove it cleanly. I'll be assisting with the surgery."
"A pretty thing like you surrounded by all that blood?" He asked hoarsely.
"You sound like my father." She said. "He wasn't sure about me doing this either."
"Well my father used to say that war has a way of distinguishing the things that matter and the things that don't." He muttered.
"That's an interesting comment." She said, looking at him, interested. "I'll go get something for the pain."
And then she was gone. "Pretty girls. I think I like this war." George murmured before drifting back into a painful, restless sleep.