Am I just a bad person?
The thought bounced around in Caroline's brain as she tossed and turned on her squeaking cot for hours while sifting through her burning perceptions.
Coming to that harsh conclusion had taken her a solid hour of flipping in her mind and bed. On the one hand, she was the happiest she had ever been; on the other, she was risking her career and the loss of her entire family to secure it.
Leave it her, she thought, to shirk her brother's grip only to knowingly jump into the web of a man who, in his way, was just as dangerous to her reputation.
To be caught fraternizing with any man, let alone a soldier, brought the highest level of shame to a woman. A dishonourable and public discharge left a nurse with no money or references to ensure she had no hope of picking herself up again. But of course, she seethed in her mind; the men got to carry on as they pleased, which pissed her off the most. As if it wasn't usually the man who had persuaded and compromised the woman in the first place! Well, at least, not in most cases…
There was no denying her role in her clandestine rendezvous' with Private Shelby. She had started it, and despite her optimism in thinking that she had reformed herself, she also knew she had no intentions of ending it. Her entire life was filled with dangerous encounters, tense events and precarious circumstances. But nothing came close to the thrill that spending just five minutes in his company shot through her veins.
That's just who she would always be then, she surmised, trying to find comfort in the thought. She was just a woman addicted to things that were no good for her.
Around half-past five in the morning, just as the sun began to lighten up the tent walls, Caroline felt the cold wind hit her face as small steps shuffled through the opened tent flaps. The person fell with a huff on their cot with a long satisfied sigh.
Caroline smiled to herself, sensing the thick shell of happiness that radiated off Penelope even in almost pure darkness. She would have to seek out Penelope's company today to get the whole story, but she could already tell that a happy ending was in the works.
The morning lark song had just begun to chime in the morning's arrival as her excitement settled down, and Caroline let out a soft groan. Perhaps she would gain more clarity to her plaguing thoughts over tea and toast.
Reaching down into the bottom of her bed, she pulled out her fresh socks and slipped them on her icy toes before sitting up in bed and stretching out her back. Soft pops and cracks echoed across the tent as she eyed her sleeping friends, all dozing peacefully.
As she stuffed her feet into her shoes, she swore as her feet hit the crumpled newspaper she had forgotten to take out. Cold, wet boots made for cold, wet feet the entire day. With the state of her aching feet, she couldn't risk incurring any more damage. After tossing the used paper onto her bed, she laced up her boots and tiptoed out of the tent towards breakfast.
—-
"No toast today." replied the gruff cook behind the food line. "Ain't no wheat come through in a few days."
Caroline's disappointment only grew as she spied the giant vat of gelatinous porridge that seemed to be the only alternative this morning.
"You want some or not," the cook huffed, staring at her before looking down the line of other staff forming behind her.
Her grumbling stomach had decided for her. Reluctantly, she replied. "Yes, please. A single scoop. Is there any cream?"
"No."
"Just the porridge it is then," she tried to smile as she took the warm bowl in her hands, the only redeeming quality of the meal.
Looking around the mess tent, she saw most of the tables were still empty, not surprising given the early morning start. Not many times did she eat alone, and the thought filled her with anxiety.
Out of habit, she walked to the back corner of the tent and sat in the same spot that Penelope and Emily frequented for most meals.
As she picked at the best bits of her porridge, she carefully reviewed the roster of soldiers under her care, diligently testing herself on their name, condition and follow-up care.
"I've never seen you here this early for breakfast, Nurse Robinson." Caroline looked up from her bowl to see Doctor Wallace hovering at the end of the table, tea and bowl of porridge in hand.
"The larks seemed to think I needed a head start on the morning."
"I guess I should thank them then."
"Why's that?"
"For giving me the chance to sit down and have breakfast with you?" he asked before adding, "If I may?"
"I should be thankful for the company," she replied, and while the sentiment wasn't necessarily a lie, as she was thankful to have a moment away from her racing thoughts, he wasn't the person she really would have chosen to eat breakfast with if given a choice.
His green eyes lit up at her response as he eased his way down on the bench across from her.
She had worked with Doctor Wallace countless times over the past six months since they had been stationed in Calais but had never given him two seconds of personal attention beyond their professional relationship. He was probably only a few years older than herself and had become much more adept than the bumbling doctor he had been when he first arrived in France. He had always been polite and kind, even when she had to correct him or support him in patient care decision-making and she appreciated that. Few doctors had the humility to defer to the nurses around them.
Given a chance, she knew she had the potential to eat him alive.
"Shall you be assisting me in theatre today?" he asked through the spoonful of porridge.
"Yes, I will be for the morning and then on the post-op."
"That gladdens me. You always keep me on my toes, nurse. I appreciate that about you."
She wasn't sure she had heard a doctor be so candid with a nurse and his openness caught her off guard. Surprisingly, his words had a profound impact on her mood as she digested them. It felt rather wonderful to receive praise from him that she hadn't even realized she craved such validation.
"Thank you, Doctor Wallace. I will try not to let you down."
"I don't think that is possible."
She studied his face for a moment, looking into his sincere eyes and gentle smile. So this was the type of man that mamas all over England would die to have their daughters marry, is it? A good man with no shadows or secrets. A man who would treat you kindly and see to your every whim. She blinked again, taking in the soft curls of his hair that gave him a boyish sweetness that any girl should love. With a man like this, life would be exactly as it should be. Safe, secure, predictable. You would think that in times like this, she should be lined up at the door to seek his gaze and attention. But her heart beat along, never skipping a beat. The rhythm has steady as it was when she collected her lukewarm porridge a few minutes ago.
She supposed she had got what she wished for. That breakfast had been served with a side of clarity. Despite her ambitions to shed the sinister skin of her past, there was still a part of her now that yearned for something beyond the tight square lines of what she thought a woman with her desires should aspire to. And it was becoming clearer by the day that her desires laid firmly with a man with a penchant for mischief that made her spine tingle and heart lurch with anticipation of what else he could make her body feel. Surely that alone couldn't make her an inherently bad person, could it?
"Nurse Robinson?" Doctor Wallace supplied again.
"My apologies," she backpedalled, "you just had my mind turning to work."
"Then I should be the one to apologise. I shouldn't be such a bore."
She waved him off politely just as she saw a glowing Penelope accompanied by Emily wandering over to the table, their eyebrows almost getting lost in the ceiling.
Their footsteps made him turn around, and the poor duck's face blushed like a springtime rose.
"Ladies," he added, nodding his head graciously to both the nurses. "I shall take my leave. I did not indent to poach your table and the time of your friend."
"You don't have to leave on our account!" Penelope added sweetly, "We are the ones who didn't mean to intrude."
Caroline shook her head violently, and her eyes widened.
"But I must," he said, scampering up from his seat. "Good day, I shall see you shortly, Nurse Robinson," he added over his shoulder to her before grabbing his dishes and nearly running out of the tent.
"What did you do to the man?" Emily added with a laugh as she sat down.
"Oh, it was rather scandalous," Caroline whispered, her friend's eyes registering pure shock. "I spoke to him…" she added, giggling as she watched the other women's faces fall.
"Not funny at all!"
"And with that, I fear I must leave to your porridge. If Doctor Wallace still has his senses, we are due to begin surgery shortly. But you," she added, giving a stern stare to Penelope, "I cannot start work until you give me three words to describe your leave as a teaser."
Penelope's face flushed with wistful contentment as she mulled over Caroline's request.
"Sublime, magical… skillful." Penelope finally responded, the last word with a wink.
"Skillful?" Emily questioned the only one not in on the gag, it seemed.
"I am so happy to hear that." Caroline cut over her friend, "Tonight, I will have a cup of tea waiting for you in our tent with your name on it."
"I look forward to it almost as much as my next leave."
Caroline returned her friend's smile with one of her own, relief sinking into every inch of her. Penelope deserved her happiness and was thrilled that she had finally found some.
As she walked out of the mess tent that had become much busier than when she arrived, Matron appeared in the tent and made a beeline towards her, cutting off her exit.
"Nurse Robinson! Just the person I have seeking for."
"Yes, Matron?" she replied curtly, matching Matron's serious tone.
"I have an urgent request to bestow upon you. And I need your response immediately."
"I'm all ears."
—-
"What do you think their names are?" Corporal James casually asked under his breath as Nurse Archibald walked past their bed.
"Dunno, and why does it matter anyhow?" John replied ironically, as his brain hadn't stopped thinking about the same question since Nurse Robinson had come storming into his life and heart. For some reason, no matter what he tried, nothing seemed to match her sparkling eyes and chestnut hair the way he wanted it to.
"Wanna play a game?" Private Smith asked with a laugh in his voice.
John had anticipated what he was about to ask and stuck out his hand to shake.
"A bob per name?" John asked, eyeing up the next nurse who walked past.
"Anna," Private Smith called out as she walked past their beds only for her to calmly walk past, ignoring him completely.
"Not a chance," John laughed, sitting in his bed and searching for their next victim.
Another five minutes later, Nurse Hamilton was about to walk past their beds with the tea service.
"I ain't taking this one on. You're up, Shelby,"
John mulled a list of ideas that could fit the tall and delicate featured nurse in his head. She came from money. There was no doubt about it. While he hadn't spent much time around posh women in his life, having only interacted with some of them when he was given a chance to make a little extra doing some under-the-table booking at the races, John knew he could win this bet.
"Cordelia!" He barked, trying to mask it with a loud cough as she walked past, Private Smith snickering away. The annoyed nurse met his antics with daggers as she loudly shushed them, passing by them with the tea cart.
"Aw fucking hell, I was looking forward to my tea, Shelby! Besides, who the hell is named Cordelia?"Smith lamented, but still with the echoes of a giggle in his voice.
"Rich girls, that's who! Anyways, she'll be back," John replied, leaning back in his bed and lighting a cigarette.
They continued their game for another twenty minutes, calling out random names to every nurse who walked past their beds. So far, none of them had been right based on the vacant and confused reactions of the women. To John's disappointment, Nurse Robinson hadn't joined the ward yet, and he hadn't had a chance to test out the names he had been mulling over in his mind since the last few days since they had met in the beech grove.
"Oi, here she comes. This one is yours," Private Smith hissed as Nurse Archibald circled this time with the second tea service.
Just as she had passed their beds, pouring tea for the other man across the aisle, John called out to her in his most casual of voices.
"Emily, love? We haven't had our tea yet," At the sound of her name, her head snapped up, and she looked towards the sound of his voice with a hurried, "yes?" Just before realizing her error and trying to cover her mouth as her eyes grew wide.
John and Private Smith gave a victorious yell and leaned across their beds to give each other a high five.
Nurse Archibald looked horrified at the both of them as she scurried away with the cart, tossing an anxious look back in their direction. In their gleeful state, neither of them had noticed Nurse Hamilton hurrying over, incensed at their raucous behaviour.
"What is the matter with you two?" She huffed out, their heads quickly turning in her direction, the smile vanishing from Private Smith's face.
"You are driving the nurses absolutely beside themselves. No one else wants even to come over here! Is that what you want?" She growled, hard eyeing the both of them.
"No, nurse." Private Smith murmured, hanging his head.
"And you, Private Shelby? I wish I could say you should know better…" she trailed, her lips set in a firm line.
He let out a short chuckle, enjoying the jab, but he knew the jig was up. And it was probably in everyone's best interest to make things right again.
"You're right, Nurse. We're sorry. We'll stop immediately."
Nurse Hamilton let out a satisfied huff and walked away.
"Guess we won't be getting our tea then," John said lightly, as Private Smith looked over with an annoyed stare. "Anyways, that'll be another bob, my friend." He replied, leaning over with a wink.
"Yeah, put it on your books, you knobhead." Private Smith said tightly, though both men looked at each other with laughter still dancing across their faces.
—-
"Nurse Hamilton will put cyanide in your tea. I hope you know she's capable of that." Caroline's voice carried a grave warning as she leaned over and plucked the cigarette from Private Shelby's fingers just as he was about to put it to his lips. Taking a long, satisfying drag with her eyes closed, ignoring his surprised cry.
"I wonder what Matron would say to that, mo stór." He said with a playful sneer. "Smoking alone with a soldier such as myself. I'm starting to discover that you enjoy playing with fire."
"You wouldn't dare," she replied, giving him a light shove with her shoulder while passing back the cigarette as they sat side by side on the log surrounded by the leafless beech trees. When the wind kicked up, the trees groaned as if complaining about the deceitful role they had been forced into at the hands of protecting her reputation.
He was right. She was knowingly crossing a hard line in her professional conduct. But every time she collected him for their afternoon stroll, she fought and lost to her feet that seemed to act on their own accord, walking quickly past the laundry lines and into the beech grove without a warning cry.
Perhaps she knew she just needed to smoke. Or a moment to sink back into the comfort of her natural self. Or maybe she fought herself daily on this one; it was the curve of his smile and the playful nature of his eyes.
"And risk being bedridden again, I should think not." He replied, passing back the cigarette to her. As she put it to her lips, she felt the dampness left behind from his mouth, causing her to shiver involuntarily.
"You laughing at me, Nurse?" He looked at her thoughtfully, returning her light shove but lingering there just a moment longer so that their shoulders touched for a mere second, sending sparks shooting through her once more. "I see that smile you're trying to hide." He added before moving away and clasping his hands in his lap.
"You're ridiculous; you know that, right? Poor Nurse Archibald was in tears after you did it! I had to talk her down for a half-hour before she calmed down enough to realize she wouldn't be dismissed from service."
"I won't be using her name to cause mischief, I promise."
"Good, she's such a sensitive girl. When stressed, it affects her ability to do her job. Penelope, on the other hand -"
Private Shelby's eyes darted to hers, and she locked eyes with him, only then catching her error.
"Do not repeat that!" She demanded, holding up a stern finger in his face. He grabbed her hand lightly by the wrist, slowly lowering it down and placing it in her lap. She said nothing as he left her with a little pat, instantly missing the feeling of his warm hands on her own.
"You do leave me with such ammunition. I don't know if I can control myself."
"You are a pest," she teased, all false deprecation lost in her voice.
"So I've been told once or twice."
"No more bothering the nurses, alright?" She said, reaching out her hand for him to shake.
"Does that include you?"
"I'd be willing to take the heat for the lot of them, just to make sure that the hospital doesn't collapse when all the nurses quit."
"Then I accept; you are the picture of nursing martyrdom." He winked, shaking her outstretched hand, lingering for a moment as he gently brushed the top of her hand with his thumb.
"Ah! And here I've thought you were a much smarter man. I have conned you, Private Shelby. You made a deal with the devil, as they say. I'll be leaving the hospital today," she replied, and while he gripped her hand, he stopped stroking her. When she caught sight of his humourless eyes, she instantly regretted teasing him with her news. All morning she had grappled with the information herself, and even though there was no reason to tell him, it just didn't feel right to disappear for two days without giving him notice. At his unexpected reaction, she clarified further, "Myself and Nurse Archibald have been seconded to a casualty clearing station in Amiens for a 48-hour relief shift. I leave this afternoon."
Her eyes suddenly found a blade of grass at her feet and studied it carefully, trying to avoid his gaze as he quietly weighed his response.
"I guess I should be used to having to share you by now." His words came with an edge of vulnerability that she had yet to hear, making her want to gather him in her arms. But, before she could do any such thing, he dropped her hand and stood with a grunt. Caroline couldn't even chastise him for it. Besides, she had heard Doctor Wallace saying his wound was mostly healed, and he could start some light walking and body weight rehabilitation exercises. The news should have been welcomed, but her stomach had plummeted with dread when she had overheard. Every day he came closer to recovery meant that he was closer to leaving her behind.
"But I can't lie about the fact I'll miss our walks," he said softly, with his back turned to her as he ran his fingers through his hair which was now getting longer. She knew it wasn't the time, but she couldn't help but admire the gentle waves that had now appeared all the same.
While she didn't admit it, she knew she would feel the loss of his company deep in her heart. Nothing about her life had been the same since he had taken a front seat in her daily thoughts and actions.
Terrified of what she might say or feel if she let herself speak her mind, she stuck dutifully to the facts.
"All the nurses have some sort of stomach flu and are out sick. So we are needed there for the time being to relieve them."
"I'll try not to cause too much of a fuss."
"I'm sure it'll come with much difficulty." Relieved that he now faced her again, his goodnatured ease blanketing his face again.
"You know me too well."
Dodging his question, she returned her eyes to the blade of grass that suddenly fascinated her.
Not as much as I would like to.
"You look after yourself, though. I've been working hard to ensure that leg of yours is healing on schedule."
"I won't let you down,"
"I appreciate the decency, Private Shelby."
"It's the least I could do for you, love."
She only let herself smile once she had collected him into the wheelchair, and he turned away from her face so he couldn't see her gleeful expression.
Anyone who looked from the laundry lines to the beech trees would see that a faint path was beginning to wear into the dirt and grass—slowly being worn away each afternoon at four o'clock, leaving a mark on the heart of the landscape. While still inconspicuous enough that Caroline barely noticed herself, as they walked in silence she pondered its significance. How long would the path linger between the two worlds? Even after the people who created it were whisked away to live their fated lives? Weeks, months, years? Only time could tell.
