Caroline had thought she had known freedom for years. Yet the morning she woke up after cutting the chord her brother held tightly in his hands for so long, she knew that this new sensation billowing inside her was the real thing. There was no guilt, no nagging sense of dread that weighed her every step as she moved through her days trying to pretend that she wasn't hiding something.
Feeling like she needed to change her morning routine to reflect her newfound self-confidence, she decided to swap out her usual cup of beef-tea for a proper late breakfast in the mess tent.
For the first time since she had arrived in France, Caroline was weightless as she walked in the dappled, early morning light across the dew-studded grass. The unexpected drastic shift within her caused her to bloom with gratitude as she took in her surroundings as if she had never seen them before. Maybe this could be the place where she could finally become the woman everyone else already thought her to be? The excitement of the idea made her feel giddy as she approached the tent that was already bursting with noise.
As soon as she appeared in the mess tent, Emily and Penelope turned and looked at her, their mouths hanging open in surprise. The tent was a flurry of activity this morning, and Caroline had hardly experienced the frenzied energy and noise of the morning rush as dozens of people readied for their day. Having so many people about would have once unsettled her, but today she walked over to where her friends sat with a skip in her step.
"Is there any space at France's most exclusive dining table?" Caroline announced as she greeted her friends' confused expressions with a playful grin.
"I don't believe my eyes!" Emily uttered as she shifted over on the wooden bench to make space.
"I figured it was such a beautiful morning; maybe I best try out this tea and toast you all rave about."
"You will never be able to chug down a Bovril after this, darling!" Penelope quipped as she poured a steaming cup of dark brown tea into the chipped enamel mug in front of Caroline.
As soon as the steam of the strong tea hit her senses, Caroline knew that she would never be able to start a morning in another way again.
"Don't forget the part that makes it magical," Emily added as she slid over a perfect piece of toast slathered with hot butter. "I have a little leftover of the strawberry preserves my mother sent me as well."
"So this is what you two have been rushing out of the tent for each morning!" Caroline groaned after taking a satisfying bite of the crunchy toast.
"What got you out on the right side of the bed this morning? You're like a whole new woman." Penelope questioned as she eyed Caroline over her mug of tea.
"Just a good sleep for once, I presume."
It was notoriously difficult to sleep well, especially when there seemed always to be something to keep her up: another girl snoring, alarm bells in the night or the images of torn-up men and their screams that cycled through her mind. But last night was one of the first in a long time where her dreams were absent of a gold-toothed villain that plagued her through the darkness.
"I'll take double of whatever you're having then!" Penelope smirked as she flopped her head into her hands.
"Don't know what I did to deserve it, but I'll take as much as I can," Caroline responded, trying to force the insecurities into the back of her mind that kept telling her she didn't deserve it.
"What ward are you on today?" Emily asked, blowing on her steaming mug.
"I've got the afternoon shift in post-op, but it should be rather quiet. All we're doing splendidly last night before I turned in."
"That's good to know. I'm off there now and hope not to have any trouble. From any of the soldiers." she added, tossing a knowing look at Caroline.
"I don't know why you're looking at me!"
"Because you're the only one he listens to, that's why! I swear whenever I'm working the ward, it's bedlam."
"I suppose he has just tired himself out by the time I come around."
That could have been true enough. But she knew that after last's night encounter, he caused far more mischief under their noses than anyone could have expected.
"Just tell him to sod off." Caroline added with a laugh as she saw the horrified expression on Penelope's face. "That's how I keep him in line. You've got to speak these men's language from time to time."
"And how on Earth do you know their language?" Emily questioned.
"Just one of my many talents, I suppose."
"I take back what I said earlier then. You're not a whole new woman. Still full of mysteries."
"Come off it," Caroline replied, trying to brush off Penelope's comment, which was far too on the nose for her this morning.
The sound of heavy footsteps coming to a stop behind her head ended their conversation abruptly. Caroline eyed Penelope's stone-cold face as the deep voice sounded over her head.
"Good morning, Nurse Hamilton. I was grateful to see that someone as capable as you will be assisting me on the ward today."
"The same to you, Doctor Forrester. I'll see you shortly." Penelope stammered out, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.
As he left, Caroline swivelled in her chair to catch a glimpse of the dark-haired doctor walking out of the tent flap after the quick exchange.
"Speaking of mysteries…." Emily added, giving Penelope a hard stare.
"Don't look at me and don't speak to me," she ordered, staring off after his perfectly groomed uniformed body while preparing to leave herself.
"Whatever you say." Caroline trailed off as Penelope stood, adjusting the straps of her apron and straightening her collar.
"I'm off!" Penelope hurriedly said as she dashed away, following Doctor Forrester's wake.
"What in God's name was that?" Caroline questioned, glad to have the attention placed on someone else's clandestine behaviour for a change.
"I've suspected something as much for weeks. Ever since she asked me to start tightening her corset each morning since he showed up."
"I'm happy for her."
Her sentiment was genuine. For too long, the world they lived in was void of anything resembling the word. So it was a lovely thought to believe that maybe things in their small corner of the war were immune from the misery surrounding them.
As if sensing her thoughts, Emily's warm fingers reached out and touched Caroline's, her eyes sparkling.
"It was nice to spend the morning together. I hope you have a splendid day, Caroline."
"You too. Best of luck in theatre." She responded while standing up and tucking the copy of Sherlock Holmes under her arm that she planned to read to the men this afternoon.
As she left to take a much-needed hot shower before her shift, she tried to convince herself that this could be her life. One full of laughter and friendship and love. A world where she didn't feel haunted by her past and the mistakes that she had made. It felt wonderful for the brief moment she allowed herself to walk through the sunshine back to her tent, smiling and greeting everyone she came across, letting herself believe that anything was possible.
But in her guts, she still felt the harsh reality buried within her that trapped the ghosts of her past. Her brother had made sure to remind her of that as his parting words. Davey would always be watching her. And as long as their mother lived, imprisoned in her empty vessel, she knew he would always know where to find her.
Before she let her mind spiral any further, she locked all her fears away into the parts of her brain where the nastiest memories lay buried and prepared herself to do what she did best. Work until every other voice in her head was silenced.
—
The peacefulness that enrobed the tent this time of day made it one of her favourite moments on the ward. All the men had already been attended to and were now quietly sleeping in peace at last. If she was lucky, she might even get an hour off her feet that were beginning to throb in her shoes. The blister paper she had placed before her shift had slipped off hours ago, leaving her heel raw and bleeding, and she desperately could use the respite.
While her shift allowed her more time at her desk than normal, she didn't expect to feel the disappointment from knowing that Private Shelby's wound had already been cleaned and redressed. Perhaps it was for the best, given their chance encounter last night, that left them both in a precarious position. She didn't need his loud mouth opening up and exposing her to further harm.
After two hours at her desk completing patients' charts, she found that she needed relief from squinting at the stack of paperwork scattered in front of her. So she sought out a patient that Penelope claimed needed another assessment of his shrapnel wound. As luck would have it, Corporal James had also been a familiar talking point in their tent as of late, and she felt the pull of curiosity to know him further. Emily would be thrilled if she came back tonight with a new anecdote about the handsome soldier they could all giggle about once they had snuffed out the lights.
Corporal James had been writing a letter when she walked over to his bedside and met his brilliant smile with one of her own. She dropped hers quickly when she took in the shock registering on his face as he saw her. It was when she remembered that she had smiled exactly once on this ward in the past fortnight her self-conciousness was soothed.
"Is it okay if I peek at your wound before lights out?" She asked politely.
"Absolutely," he responded as he set his stationary down and laid down flat on his bed.
She quietly got to work on his wound, inspecting it closely for any signs of infection, luckily finding none. Just as she was about to open her mouth and ask him a question, he blurted out one of his own, catching her off guard.
"Where are you from, Nurse?"
She had never gotten in the habit of answering personal questions to anyone, let alone a soldier. Knowing that the more she talked, the more she had to think of her story. And she had been ingrained since she was a girl to know that the more you had to explain a lie, the easier the cracks began to show. After three years in France, her story was starting to crack like the faint lines in an heirloom china teapot. Any extra stress and her entire persona could threaten to leak at any moment. But, like any good lie, there always had to be a seed of the truth.
"London," she replied shortly. Even though she knew the deception, she played on the man, knowing she was not from the type of London her false accent portrayed but the kind that would make Dickens shudder with disgust.
"I've never been," he replied, his thick northern accent slurring together the words so that she had to focus intently to understand him.
"You're probably not missing much compared to…" she pressed, looking down at him and closing his chart while tucking it under her arm, trying to deflect the conversation off herself.
"From a small village around Sheffield. In the hills there."
"I'm sure you must miss the greenery compared to all this."
"Aye, Nurse. I miss the grass and the trees and being out in the forest the most. Being able to swim whenever I pleased too."
Caroline wondered what it would have been like to grow up surrounded by such nature. She couldn't imagine missing the ash-caked stone, smoke and stench of her childhood with such nostalgia.
"Hopefully, it won't be long until you can return."
He nodded slowly, a wash of sadness creeping across his features.
Noticing the shift in his face, Caroline reached out and lightly grazed his shoulder with her hand.
"Sleep well, Corporal James. I shall see you in the morning."
"Goodnight, Nurse," he replied with a sad smile before rolling over onto his side, tucking himself into the covers.
The final chore of her shift was to go around and douse the oil lamps that scattered the tent so the men would not be disturbed by the light while they slept.
Once she had finished with the first dozen lights, her eyes lingered on the final one of the bunch. The last lamp was located at the end of the ward, where it sat innocently on the bedside table of the man she had been avoiding all night. Knowing she couldn't wait any longer before she went over there, she tiptoed towards it, pausing for a moment to take in the face of the soldier curled beside it. When sleeping, he was actually rather pleasant-looking, with his edges softened in a way that made him far less insufferable. Unable to stop herself, she gazed at him further, her restless heart fluttering as she did so. She had never had time to admire the becoming shade of his dark blonde hair threaded with copper, even more so through the spots of his beard that were starting to appear. Or his long lashes, nearly sweeping across his cheekbones as he soundly slept.
As if her body acted purely from the dull ache inside her heart instead of her brain, her hand reached out unconsciously towards his face, wanting to caress the soft skin of his cheek. Before she could touch him she suddenly stopped a mere whisper from his face when something else caught her attention.
If it wasn't for her wayward eyes drawn to his slightly parted lips were she noticed the toothpick lying on his sheets, she would have already had her hands curled around the soft waves of his hair.
The toothpick must have been in his mouth when he fell asleep.
She closed her eyes, shaking off the feeling of wicked desire that undulated through her at the thought triggered by a sharp contraction of the space just below her navel.
God, what was wrong with her? He was injured, for heaven's sake. But, besides that, she was also the last nurse who should be worried about not being able to trust her hands around a man.
All the qualities she just noticed about him meant nothing to her anyway. It was an essential part of her job to be observant. There were obviously many layers to this man that she had yet to discover. And now that she had, she could happily put the uncouth thoughts out of her mind and finish doing her job.
Slipping past his bed as quietly as she could, Caroline attempted not to wake him as she reached out towards the lamp, pausing again as she did so. She had never been a greedy woman, but she couldn't help but take one last look at his features as they shone in the lamplights warm glow.
"Bloody fucking cack!" she swore loudly as she felt the skin on her hand sear. In her short moment of absentmindedness, her fingers had accidentally touched the lamp's hot glass, singing them painfully. "You right manky duffer!" she swore again, examining her fingertips before unconsciously putting them to her lips to try to quell the burning. She shook her head in disbelief, silently chastising herself for such foolish behaviour.
A second later, in a moment of pure horrific realization, her eyes floated from her fingers, casting them back to Private Shelby, hoping that her outburst had not woken him. Panic began to course through her veins as she realized the damage her slippage in tongue back to her Cockney roots could mean to her concocted identity.
When her eyes landed on his wide blue eyes, she prayed that maybe she had gotten lucky. Perhaps there was a chance that he had not heard the words that tumbled from her mouth just moments ago.
However, when that slow, sly smile spread across his mouth, exposing the whites of his teeth, she knew her first leak had sprung.
She narrowed her eyes at him and tried not to say another word in a futile attempt not to betray herself further.
He was quiet too, their eyes locked in a silent power struggle, daring each other to break first.
"Someone has been keeping secrets," he finally whispered with a wink, and she felt the blood rush to her face.
"Private Shelby," she implored, trying to find the words to placate his wolfish grin.
"Nurse Robinson!" Doctor Wallace's voice carried down the ward to break their terse exchange. Her eyes snapped towards the doctor, her heart still thrumming a percussive dance before turning her ferocious gaze back to Private Shelby. She narrowed her eyes in a desperate last attempt to prevent him from spilling any of this newly divulged information. But unfortunately, his face gave no information about what he was thinking, which made her anxiety creep to a breaking point. Not able to keep the doctor waiting any longer, she turned away, quickly leaving his bedside to meet Doctor Wallace while fighting to regain her lost composure with every step.
"Yes, Doctor, how can I be of assistance?" Her voice rang out calm and clear, slipping back into her practised refined speech that she had accustomed to over the past three years.
At the sound of her voice, she heard a small laugh coming from the bed just behind her, but she didn't look back; she couldn't. There was only moving forward from now on.
The very next day, Caroline had sought out Private Shelby only to find him playing cards in bed with the fellow next to him when she walked over with a wheelchair. However, fate had seen that she had worked her shift in theatre that morning and hadn't had to cross his path. Which thankfully gave her galloping brain a chance to figure out how to remedy the dreadful situation.
"Private Shelby, I'm here to collect you for an afternoon walk."
"Your shift is over, Nurse." he challenged while he played another hand, not meeting her gaze.
Never had she ever been so frustrated by a single man. And now he had memorised her shift schedule?
"You of all people should take what you can get. You have been begging to go outside, and now is your chance. So get in," she commanded while she lifted the blanket off the seat of the wheelchair.
"Sorry, Rog, I'll have to finish cleaning your clock later. Can't keep the nurse; you know how they get."
Private Shelby swung his legs off the bed and eased his way into the chair, readjusting the blanket to cover his legs.
He turned and smiled back at her, but she had steeled herself enough today that it did not affect her.
Silently, she wheeled him out down the aisle of the ward and out through the tent flap and into the sun-filled afternoon.
The field hospital had an impressive collective of duckboards crisscrossing throughout the grass, making it easy to wheel patients around from place to place.
The only problem was going to be finding a secluded spot where they could have some privacy without arousing suspicion or garnering her some severe consequences for being caught alone with a patient.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going?"
"I'm taking you straight to the Germans. We've had enough of you. I'm tired of always finding you gambling! So that better be the last time I see it happening on my wards."
"Without even letting me collect my personals? You are cold-blooded, sweetheart."
She had wheeled them to the end of the duckboard where the laundry was hanging, and Caroline looked around, scoping out for any prying eyes or ears.
"You'll have to walk only ten steps or so."
"Are you trying to take advantage of me, nurse? Because that's not very ladylike, is it? especially when I am in such a vulnerable state."
"I'm not a lady,"
"Oh, I know that well enough now, darling," he said with wagging brows.
"Up!" she burst out, losing her patience now.
"Alright! Christ, you are a cranky one somedays." he huffed as he readjusted himself in the chair, preparing to stand up. He heaved himself up on the arms of the chair and tested the weight of his body on his injured leg.
"You were right, Nurse; you are good at this job."
"Yes, I am. We'll go over that thicket."
"Am I meeting the firing squad?"
She ignored his words and took a few steps side by side before he stumbled. Instinctively, she reached out and encircled his waist to steady him; her head tucked into his chest for support. Private Shelby reacted by draping his heavy arm around her shoulders, the electric sensation dousing all her former flames of annoyance.
"Oi nurse, I thought you weren't taking advantage of me,"
Caroline paused for a moment, looking up at him through her lashes before extracting herself from his arms and giving him a light swat on the arm.
"You did that on purpose!"
"Just checking to ensure you're not that mad at me. Glad to see you would still save me in a pinch."
"Come on, sit down here before anything else happens." She replied while rolling her eyes.
The beech trees in the thicket were mature, and their green leaves provided a canopy from the drizzle of rain and any unsuspecting passersby. They both sat silently for a moment, listening to the trees sway in the breeze while a chorus of birdsong surrounded them from the branches.
It would have been a lovely place to take a break in the crisp afternoon air if she were not so incensed at this moment.
"We need to talk about last night," she spoke calmly, still using her adopted accent that she had hardly even thought about anymore.
"Don't you worry about me. I am a man who knows how to keep a secret. I learned long ago that spreading stuff that ain't my business can only lead to trouble."
His response caught her by surprise. Never had she expected such a quick and genuine answer from him. Nonetheless, his words soothed her coiled stomach, and she felt her shoulders relax as relief washed over her.
"Thank you. I appreciate your kindness; it would cause me many unnecessary headaches if anyone found out."
He nodded as he placed both of his hands on the stump they shared, his fingers a near caress away from hers that rested on the same piece of wood. She welcomed the feel of the heat emanating from his body as he shifted closer to her, shielding her from the biting cold that blew through the remaining leaves as the clouds covered the low-hanging sun. How quickly she was able to forget that playing with fire could leave her burned.
"I just need to know one thing, though," his low voice asked after a few silent seconds.
"I suppose that's fine,"
"Why do you do it? The false accent."
"I didn't think I would have to when I started training. But I quickly realized how different my colleagues treated me when they thought I was just a low-class bint. I became invisible, nothing but a maid in everyone's eyes even though I had the best scores and practicals of any nurse on the ward."
"The fucking bastards," his voice growled out.
She wasn't sure why she had answered him at all. Not a single soul in France knew her true story, not even Emily and Penelope. But she knew enough that she must stop before the floodgates of all the emotions she had experienced over the past years rushed forward. The honest words tasted too good on her lips, and she couldn't trust herself not to listen to her body that was screaming at her to tell him everything about her life.
"When I was transferred to France, I was given a chance to start fresh."
"And now?" he prompted gently, listening intently to every word.
"I can finally be happy. I have friends; the doctors respect me. I get invited to dances and concerts. And most importantly, I can do the work I love without getting questioned. I'm free.
"Now I can see why you work so hard to fit in as one of them."
"Is it really that obvious?"
"Only to me, I expect."
Caroline knew he was intelligent; she had seen it repeatedly since she met him. But this entire conversation left her unprepared for how well he could see through her facade. And what surprised her more was how good it felt to be seen by him.
"Are you actually from London?"
"Yes, but the dodgy end."
"I wasn't in any doubt about that."
Caroline swatted him again, although her annoyance replaced with a playful laugh.
"How about you then, Private? Is your life back home in Small Heath all white-gloved service and ten-course dinners?"
"You already know the answer to that, love," he replied quietly with a glint.
"Yes, I do. But what did you do there, before all this?" she asked, never intending to bring him here to start a personal conversation. Instead, she had meant to bully him into swearing that he wouldn't tell a soul and wheel him back immediately so she could enjoy the rest of her hour break before her evening shift began.
"Oh love, you know a bit of this an' that," he said mildly, clearly feeding her a practised response.
Caroline had heard nearly identical responses when her brothers spoke of their employment in mixed company. "This and that" tended to be synonyms for petty and not so petty theft coupled with a side of gambling.
Why couldn't she seem to escape men like Private Shelby? She seemed to attract their trouble like flies to a horse. But for some reason instead of being scared or hesitant to continue their conversation, knowing that he was exactly the type of man she needed to run from, she found herself leaning in closer so that their sleeves almost touched, breathing in his already familiar scent.
"You know, sweetheart, when it's just you and I, you don't have to put up the front. I like the real you well enough. Especially compared to the toff, stuck-up nurse you enjoy playing at when we're back there," he laughed, nodding his head towards the tent in the distance.
"It's that nurse that will heal you, so I wouldn't be complaining if I were you."
"Naw, I don't think so. I think my little Cockney girl has more talents than she leads on. Plus, she wouldn't faff about with all the protocols and complete the healing just as well."
"You can be right about some things, I suppose,"
"See, there you go. We can get along."
"So it seems."
"Can you tell me your real name, now that we're going to be friendly? It's only fair; you probably know more about me than I care to know about myself."
"I can't do that."
"Didn't you just hear me? We don't have to play by their rules when we're together."
"This isn't about that. In my family, we grew up hearing the legends of the old ways," she cooed in hush tones, trying to keep her voice straight. "And we believe that our names carry deep magic, only those who have proven themselves can learn it. Because once someone knows your name, they have the power to control you."
"Pardon my French, but I think you're full of shit."
"Maybe." She giggled as she looked over at him to take in his equally devilish grin.
"So just tell me your name!"
"I won't."
"Then what about your last name? Cause I half expect that's a part of the act too."
She hesitated, shocked that he had also seen through that lie.
"Shit! That's not your name either, is it? My goodness, Nurse, we are full of secrets."
The name wasn't necessarily a lie. Robinson was her mother's name, a mild name that wouldn't have the coppers throwing you in jail from hearing it, knowing that you were probably guilty of something. She wasn't sure how to respond to his words, so she sat there, placing her hands in her lap to stare at them.
It only took a few seconds for his softened voice to start speaking again.
"Well, I hate calling you 'nurse' every five damn seconds. It makes me feel like a fucking brownnoser who's chasing the pretty girl around like every other fucking soldier."
"Oh, and you're different, are you?" She replied, purposefully trying to skip over his choice of words that made her heart flutter.
"I am that, yeah." he nodded coyly, leaning back to scratch the back of his neck with his hand. As he brought it down, he covered her hand with his own for a split-second, sending electric sparks up her arm. It left her wondering if it had even happened at all as he retracted so quickly it without saying a word.
Even though the desire to lay out here all afternoon catching the sun dying rays and having the birds lull her to sleep engulfed every cell within her, she knew they had to get back.
What scared her the most was that alongside that image, there was also the vision of him with her. Caroline could picture so clearly two bodies entwined on the grass, his arms wrapped around her to hold her close as her head fell onto his chest.
Noticing their closeness as they sat there awoke her from her daydream, causing her to snap to her feet while frantically dusting off the skirt of her uniform.
"We best be heading back. Someone will come looking." Caroline's voice slipped back, signalling that the game was over and the real world beckoned them.
"I miss you already, mo stór."
"What did you just call me?" she said, confused at his choice of language that certainly wasn't English.
"I told you I was sick of calling you, nurse."
"But what does it mean?"
"It's just words; that's all it is. Nice ones, I promise you that. You can't be the only one here withholding things. But aye, I best not be missing me card came. That sod owes me two bob."
Caroline's thoughts were too occupied after that to notice the feeling of a small thread that had wrapped itself around her heart, replacing the ones she had cut in the past day. The innocent thing had slipped in when she was unaware, laughing at a joke as she walked back with him through the trees. In the glow of her happiness she couldn't even feel the small tug ripple through her body as it completed its final knot, binding itself around her heart and pulling tight.
—-
Mo Stor = "My Treasure" in Irish. I know in the show the Shelby family is supposed to be Romani. For this story's sake, I'll have him speak Shelta, which is the language of Irish Travellers. I found this language was a mix of Irish and Romani so I picked this endearment off an online translator, which I learned was pretty much a direct Irish word still used by travellers.
I'm very much so Canadian and know nothing of either language. But I would be curious to know more if you are a speaker!
Again, thank you so much for reading. I would love to hear your feedback and first impressions on John and Caroline's first scenes of budding love :) Take care!