The ticket master checked Ellen's ticket before letting her on board. Her mind was reeling from John's kiss. It was not like being kissed on the cheek by Jonas or her father. This was different, she had felt something as he had kissed her, a sort of flickering in her stomach. John can't like me, can he? We've only known each other a few months. But she had felt something, the only boy she had ever liked was Darrel, but Jonas had scared him off after Darrel had kissed her on May Day when she was fourteen. Jonas had gone mad, but he was not here anymore. Ellen's stomach twisted painfully as she thought of him yelling at Darrel.

She shuffled through the corridor, trying to find somewhere relatively quiet to sit. This was not difficult as many people were too afraid because of fear of attacks from German U-boats. Ellen hoped she would not meet the same fate as so many civilians and soldiers before her. Her stomach rumbled – she had not eaten since breakfast and had not packed any lunch. She wondered if there was kitchen on board where she could buy something to eat.

"Excuse me," Ellen asked one of the staff who was near-by. "Is there somewhere, where I can buy something to eat?"

"Yep, if you walk down the corridor, then take a left and go down a deck, you will find a café. It's lunchtime they probably will be selling sandwiches."

"Thank you."

Ellen set off to find the café. A few minutes and wrong-turns later Ellen found herself at the café. There were a few couples sitting at the tables chatting. She sat down at a table by the window and stared out at the harbour. The ship had yet to make sail, and she wondered if John was out there and was as mulling over his actions as much as she was. If he did like her, she definitely did not like him. No, of course I don't like him. He's not even attractive – far too tall and that chin could take someone's eye out! And is eyes are just… beautiful, like dappled sunlight through leaves on a tree. Ellen felt the boat starting to rock and sway as it was pulled out of the harbour by tug-boats. Who are you trying to fool?

She picked up the menu, trying to push John and Jonas out of her mind.

Sandwiches:

Tuna and cucumber

Cheese and pickle

Ham and English mustard

Coronation Chicken

Soups (all served with bread):

Leek and potato

Chicken

Cockle Leekie Soup

Stilton and broccoli

"Can I take your order, Madame?" enquired the waiter, walking over.

"Yes. I would like the Coronation Chicken sandwich, please."

"Very good. Are you eating with anyone?"

"No, I'm on my own."

The waiter gave her a hard stare. "I see."

Then he walked away. Ellen slouched on the chair, the waiter's disapproval of her travelling alone only worsened her mood. She hated being treated as if she were a child. It's because I'm a young, 'vulnerable' woman, isn't it? If they knew I worked at the Casualty Clearing Station they'd be shocked, and it serves them right! I can do anything they can do!


John spent the train journey home mulling over what he had done. You kissed her, you idiot! I know it was only on the cheek, but still, she's… lovely. Stop it John! One kiss from a drunk River at Christmas last year made you half fall in love with her! But Ellen… she's just… John swung his legs up onto the bench, and stared out of the window, watching the trees and hills flow steadily past. Had she been shocked? Yes. Did she return it? No. Then she doesn't like you in that way. Or… she just hasn't got to know you yet.

John descended from the train where he and Ellen had first set out on their journey. It felt odd not having her with him, as if something was missing, like having fish without custard. It took him about half an hour to walk back to the Casualty Clearing Station, from the railway station. On arrival, he was greeted with the sight of two men hauling a body wrapped in white cloth, onto a cart filled with other bodies.

"Can I help you?" John offered, striding over to help.

"No thanks mate," sighed one of the men in a Brummies' accent. "He was the last one, poor bugger."

"So many," sighed the other man. "Who are you then?"

"Dr John Smith," said John, holding out his hand.

The Brummie shook it. "Paul Tanner, this is my friend Charlie Watts."

John shook Charlie's hand too. "Please to meet you."

"So where are you from, then?" asked Paul, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Originally from a small town just outside of London. Gallifrey, if you've ever heard of it. Though, I was travelling with my brother a lot before the war. I spent a good year or two in Africa, before he decided to get married and have children," explained John.

The two men looked impressed. "Africa? Blimey! So how come you're so pale?" laughed Charlie.

"I'm afraid I burn, rather than tan!"

"You were in Africa when this all blew up?" enquired Charlie, as John nodded. "How did you wind up here? Surely, you still be there if you're minted."

"I wanted to help people. I thought I could do more good rather than sitting back in Africa and hearing about everyone dying."

Both the men nodded, understandingly. "Good on you, mate. We better be going. Good bye John," said Paul.

"Bye," John replied, watching them strap the cart to the horse that was waiting, and walk off.

John's footsteps echoed around the courtyard as he walked across it. He could see his breath rising into the air with every breath he took, against the darkening blue sky. A few stars were already peeking out from behind the clouds, they looked like candles behind frosted windows. Stars are always the same, wherever you are in the world. Is Ellen looking at them? I hope she is. Good night, Ellen.


Of course Ellen was looking at the stars, as the ship docked in Dover at quarter-past five. It had set off late, leaving Ellen little time to make her train on time. She sighed, relieving a little tension in her shoulders. The pin-pricks of lights in the sky gave her hope that maybe the New Year would bring some benefits, even if her brother was dead. Perhaps he was up in the sky as a star with all the other dead soldiers. Ellen's mother had always told her that when people died they turned into stars.

Her thoughts were broken by shouting from below her. They had finally moored the boat, and they were tying the last mooring rope into place. Ellen leaned over the railing, trying to catch a glimpse of the port. She only been to Dover when she had set off to Belgium, so had been with a collection of girls determined to do their part in the war effort.

She tore her eyes away from the mooring and decided to find her way off the ship. Ellen walked back the way she came, through the bowels of the ship. A small queue had formed at the exit of the ship. The door had been open and people were starting to trickle out. Ellen flashed a small smile at the attendant who was holding open the door, as she stepped onto the gang-way. The cold air hit her, visiously and cut through her wool-lined, herringbone, double breasted coat. She tottered slightly, before regaining her balance and staggering down the gang-way with her suitcase and no arm to steady her.

Ellen was relieved when she reached the bottom without slipping into the icy water of the English Channel. She flashed her passport at the custom's official before setting off for the station. She found it ten minutes later, and sprinted into the ticket office.

"One ticket to York please!" she panted.

The woman behind the counter laughed. "Cutting it fine, aren't you? Don't worry it won't leave without you," she said, handing Ellen her ticket.

She put the suitcase down and used her free hand to pull the correct money out of her pocket. "Thank you. Which platform is it?"

"Five. It's on this side, so you'll make it."

Ellen shoved the ticket in her coat pocket, and picked up her suitcase. She dashed out of the ticket office and ran to platform five. The guard was just closing the doors.

"Wait!" yelled Ellen, hauling her suitcase as she sprinted to the train door.

He held the door open for her. "Quick, quick miss!"

He ushered her onto the train, and then slammed the door shut. She heard the guard blow his whistle and the train slowly started to rock back and forth. Ellen stumbled through the narrow corridors of the carriage, trying to find an empty compartment. After five minutes of walking, and hitting her suitcase against the wall of the carriage, she found an empty one. With ease she slid open the door, remembering John falling into the compartment when they were just leaving Ypres.

She sat down on one of the benches, but did not haul her suitcase onto one of the luggage racks above her head, knowing her five foot frame would not allow her to get her suitcase down at the end of her journey. She gazed out of the window as the lights from the houses of Dover whizzed by in a blur. It would not be long until she saw the lights of her own home in the distance.

I'll be home soon. I'll be safe, but Jonas won't be there.


Thank you so much for reading! Personally, I don't think this is my best chapter due to the fact that I'm not brilliant at writing travelling scenes, but don't worry Ellen will be home soon! I'm trying to weave in the romance as subtly as possible because during the early 20th Century relationships had to be purely platonic before marriage. Additionally, Ellen's not the boldest person in the world when it comes to romance. Please review, follow and/or favourite, so I can send you some kind of baked good!