I also don't have a beta and do all the editing myself and sometimes I can't seem to find the motivation to tackle a longer chapter. But with that being said I hope you enjoy, your feedback and reviews make it all worth it! Thank you so much to my loyal readers and commentators. It makes me so happy to know that you are liking this as much as I have fun writing it.
—-
After returning to her tent after leaving John's bedside, Caroline was surprised to see all the lights on in the tent. Once inside, she felt the warm rush of air from their small wood stove and saw Penelope sitting up in her bed, applying thick hand cream that smelled like Christmas trees.
"A little bird told me you might need some of this," Penelope chimed when her eyes met Caroline's, throwing down the hand cream and pulling out a dark green wine bottle with a faded yellow label from under her sheets.
Alcohol was another fireable offence for a nurse; therefore, she couldn't remember the last time she had so much as a drop. Caroline had never tasted French wine before, being much more of a gin drinker herself when given the opportunity, but after the days that she had endured, she would've drunk petrol if it would help to numb her hardships.
"A petit souvenir from my leave," Penelope added, sliding over on her cot to make space for Caroline, who needed no prompting to join her. "It should be served chilled, in the most gorgeous crystal coupes, but shared amongst a good friend is just as lovely. Shall you do the honour?" Penelope handed over the bottle, and Caroline stared at the golden foil and wire basket covering the top.
"Dom Perignon," Caroline said slowly with a hard 'g' which she knew was a mistake as soon as Penelope let out a hearty laugh. Caroline had only picked up a smattering of French in her time here and used it sparingly, as her Cockney accent was hard for her to mask underneath the delicate French verbiage. "It's probably safer in your hands," Caroline added with a laugh, having no idea how to open the bottle even if someone was holding a gun to her head.
"You don't like Champagne?"
She had barely even heard of it before, let alone tasted it. And if it tasted like the small amounts of wine she had sipped on, it would be nothing to write home about.
"I think I'll love anything right now," Caroline said as Penelope unwrapped the bottle and popped the cork across the tent, making Caroline jump.
"That was a good one!" Penelope said as she licked up the foam that had escaped from the bottle. "To us!" she sang as she took a small swig from the bottle and handed it to Caroline, who did the same.
It was undoubtedly one of the best things that Caroline had ever tasted, and she took another sip of the delicate, effervescent sweetness before handing it back.
"Emily just went to shower; she told me she had just left surgery…." Penelope pressed, and Caroline tried her best not to burst into tears, so she silently reached out again to take the bottle from Penelope's hands to steady herself with another drink.
"He's got an infection; he almost lost his leg. But thank goodness Emily was there to force the doctor's hand to debride the wound thoroughly instead."
"How are you feeling?"
"Awful,"
"Have you seen him?"
"I've just got back; he's awake and doing much better than I had anticipated."
"Excellent news,"
"Doctor Forrester is on the ward with him tonight," Caroline said as she passed back the bottle of Champagne with a raised brow.
Penelope took a long swig and smacked her lips together before taking a steadying breath.
"Frederick is a wonder; he couldn't be in better hands."
"Tell me more about Frederick and all his wonders then," Caroline asked, desperately wishing to be imbued with someone's elses' happiness to detract from the miseries she had dealt with over the past days.
"He's everything I wish for in a man: intelligent, kind, smart, caring. I doubt even Mama could find fault in the man. He comes from a family of doctors in London. His father runs a charitable hospital, and Frederick is keen to take over when the war is over."
"I'm so happy for you, Penelope."
"And what about your happiness?"
Caroline took the bottle back this time, the sip sending a warm current into her stomach, causing her chest to flush. She knew that Penelope wasn't asking a general question.
"It's much more complicated."
"Because of where he comes from?"
The question took her by surprise, and at first, it confused her. Why should where John comes from be an issue? If anything, it was her history that was the problem. When her eyes caught what must be an expensive bottle of Champagne, and she listened to her contrived accent coming out of her mouth, she understood. Of course, to someone like Penelope, the thought of a well-bred society girl absconding with a working-class Brummie would be the scandal of the decade. No response could make sense other than to glance over it.
"Look what's happening around us, Penelope. How am I supposed to expect more?"
"You deserve it, that's why. You deserve your happiness just as much as the next person, war or not. Does he make you happy?"
"Yes,"
"Then there is your answer."
"I wouldn't even know where to begin."
"Just start! That's the only free advice that I will be giving tonight."
—-
John's nausea and fever induced chills had finally abated when he awoke from what was likely his fifth nap of the day. With a groan, he sat himself up in his bed, the curtains still closed around him, making it impossible to tell the time as his area had no window. But the gentle murmur of voices told him that it was not yet nighttime, so he decided to keep his eyes open for another few minutes, even though he was still exhausted.
The past few hours had passed in a lucid dream, but the throbbing in his leg told him that the worst part of it was his reality. Needing to be sure, he pulled up the sheets over his leg to check the dressing. Blood oozed through the bandage, and it was apparent by the thickness of the bandage how severe the wound was and how close he had come to either death or amputation. Judging by the state of the dressing, it wouldn't be long until someone would come to check on him, and he sat up higher in his bed, trying to flatten down his mess of hair.
Had these past two days been nothing but a fever dream? He blinked his eyes, trying to conjure up the feeling of her pillowy lips against his own. John had always been a man for numbers, sequences, and logic, and he had always lacked a vivid imagination. There was no way he could have dreamed up a kiss like that on his own. Opening his eyes, he stared at the small crack of his curtains, willing for her to show her face.
If she comes through in five minutes, the kiss was real.
He kept time with his heartbeat, ticking alongside his breath as he tried to pull his attention away from his throbbing leg. Every moment of pain that he had endured from this injury would be enough if that meant she could be his—every last second.
Two minutes. The urge for a cigarette coursed through him, and he began to search the side table and his pockets in vain. Who the fuck would leave a man in his condition without a pack of smokes? Probably some sadist fucking doctor who liked to see him suffer more than he already was. Maybe he could just get up for a second and call out to one of the lads around him; surely, they would be willing to help him out.
"Nurse Fagan!" her familiar voice called out just beyond the opening flap of his curtains, causing his simple heart to flop around in his chest. "You can't imagine that I would let you within ten feet of Private Shelby after what has transpired, do you? You are not to go in there again, am I understood?"
Her voice was fire and steel, and he sat up taller in his bed to hear more, but Nurse Fagan's mumbled response made it impossible for him to discern what she was saying.
"Every four hours means every four hours. I don't give a hoot what tale you have spun that supersedes that."
Nurse Fagan gave another jargled response that made Nurse Robinson's shrill whisper break into a roar.
"You have got to be joking! You best get out of my sight this instant before I stuff the words coming out of your mouth with my first."
Bloody hell.
Nurse Robinson continued, "Private Shelby is one of the bravest, most caring men on this ward. I don't care if your God sees him as otherwise, and if I hear you say something like that again, Matron will be notified, and you will be sent home. Am I understood? Yes? Now get out of my sight and off of my ward."
He heard footsteps shuffling away as Nurse Robinson let out a loud huff. Seconds later, the curtain rods jingled as she pulled them back, and her face emerged with two pink spots of anger. Four minutes.
Once she saw his wide-open stare, her face slipped into a pained wince.
"I hope to never be on the receiving end of that roar, love." he tried to chuckle before she could speak.
"I was hoping you wouldn't hear that…" her voice cooed, slipping back into a calming whisper.
"And miss the highlight of my day? They should be sending you over to negotiate with the Germans. Get us all home by Christmas this year."
"I see your good humour has returned," she said as she took a few small steps towards his bed. "I figured you could use some of these," she added, pulling out a package of cigarettes from her apron with a smile.
"You're a mind reader, too? Alongside that terrible roar and gorgeous smile?"
"You can just say thank you."
"I would never miss an opportunity to compliment you, sweetheart."
Rolling her eyes, she surprised him by sitting down on the edge of his bed and placing the cigarette to his lips, lighting it with a quick flick of a match.
"If you don't stop with that silliness, I'll be forced to take away your cigarette."
He playfully clamped his mouth around the cigarette, locking it into place.
"I thought so," she added with an inner glow within her eyes that illuminated the dark blue hue. "Now, I am not supposed to be here, I'm due back in theatre in ten minutes. Is there anything else you need? Nurse Archibald will be by shortly to check your dressing."
"I've got everything I need right here." He replied, sliding out his hand to touch hers lightly. "But there is just one thing that's been bothering me."
"Of course, anything I can do to help."
"It's just that I can't remember something that happened yesterday, and I don't think I'll be able to rest easy until I get the answer straight."
"Must you be so cryptic?"
"You're the type of girl that prefers men to be direct then?"
"I suppose so," she said, giving him a sidelong glance.
"You asked for it then, darling." he chimed as he extinguished his cigarette on the ashtray beside his bed before taking her face in his hands and slowly pulling her into a tantalizing kiss.
God, she felt incredible. There was no denying it as he greedily deepened the kiss as she leaned into him, her own hands finding the back of his neck as she tangled her fingers in his hair.
John was infuriated that his own body betrayed his first memorable kiss with the woman of his dreams, as he had to pull away to catch his breath. Though it was probably for the best, for if he didn't pull away, then his hands would have found themselves all over her.
"Did you discover the answer to your question?" she smiled against his lips.
"I'd say that is a good way to jog the memory."
"Good, because that's all you get today," she smirked, giving him a quick peck before standing up to straighten herself.
"Can't you come back to give me a goodnight kiss?"
"Maybe a kiss before tea tomorrow, if you're lucky. There is still a mess of soldiers to clean up after what happened before you got sick."
"You're amazing, you know."
"I think they have given you too much morphine."
"But I've thought that for weeks, love."
"Serves me right for distracting you then; you need to focus on your recovery." she quipped before taking a few steps away and stopping to face his bed. "You know, after speaking with Doctor Forrester just now about your wound, I've concluded that you were on that leg for far more than thirty minutes."
"Time tends to stop when you're around, Nurse, so I couldn't be sure."
John's soul stirred when taking in how her ears pinked at his words and how her shiny hair curled around her ear when she brushed it off her face.
"Just don't go getting any ideas of not following your care this time. I won't give you a chance not to. So expect me to be here all the time."
John knew he didn't deserve such luck, but did he know that he wouldn't waste a drop of his good fortune.
—-
And at his bedside all the time, she was.
Some days, she spent longer at his bedside, stealing kisses and talking about their lives. Other times it was a fleeting moment as she passed through on her way to a shift in another location just so that she could catch a glimpse of his face.
From that first day after his surgery, never did they waste a moment to show how appreciative they were to be in each other's company. Caroline thought of nothing else but him, and she stretched herself to the limits of the twenty-four hours she was given each day to ensure that she could do both her job and be with John as much as possible.
Tonight, she was feeling off, though, and she couldn't quite figure out why. It had started this morning, as she was rushing out to her morning shift when as she was brushing out her braid, large chunks of her beloved hair began to fall out of heaps in her brush and through her fingertips. Never before had this happened, and the amount of shed hair she left on the floor shocked her thoroughly. Then, as she had wandered out into the night, she noticed the lack of moon, and for the first time in a month, Caroline realized that instead of meeting her brother to exchange stolen goods, she would be sneaking off to meet John for a few stolen minutes at his bedside. And here she thought she had changed for the better. Still, the thought of her brother broke her out into a cold sweat. What if he was there, waiting for her in the shadows? Would he come looking for her at the hospital if she never showed? Davey had to know she was serious when she put a stop to their situation the last time they met. The panic made her feel like being by John's side was the only safe place to be tonight, knowing that even in his current state, he would protect her.
Caroline launched, coiled like a spring, into John's make-shift room, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. It didn't help her mood when the first thing she saw other than him made her want to scream.
"Oh, for goodness sake, who the hell keeps putting this stuff up?" she huffed as she came to his bedside and immediately snatched the Christmas decorations that some of the VADs had placed around the ward to instill some cheeriness around the hospital.
"Aw, where's your Christmas spirit, love? Don't tell me I won't be seeing you on stage at the concert this week."
The upcoming Christmas concert was all that Penelope and Emily had twittered about over the last couple of days. They were performing a duet, and many nights Caroline had to stuff her head under her pillow to drown out the words to the song.
"You must be joking! I loathe the ridiculousness of it all." she hissed, stuffing the ornaments and scraggly tinsel haphazardly into her apron.
There had been a time when the idea of Christmas had filled her with excitement as she waited up all night for Father Christmas to arrive. As a child, she had wished desperately for all kinds of idiotic things that could never be rectified by a made-up man in a red and white hat. Just the thought that she had once been so stupid to think that someone could save her from the miseries of her own life other than herself embarrassed her to her core.
"I never took you for a Scrooge! Let me tell ya, one Christmas in Birmingham with my family will set you right. The food is kinda shite, mind, but the whisky flows, and so does the laughter. I give fucking good gifts too. You'd fit right in."
"Is that an invitation?"
"If you tell me your name, I'll even mail yours on some of that fancy paper. But if not, I promise I can give you a Christmas to remember, even if we are stuck here instead."
Caroline crossed her arms, wanting desperately to share the same wistfulness towards the holiday as John did, but her soul couldn't undo the blackness that had been smeared on her the day her mother was shot. John's thoughtful eyes flashed across her own and narrowed like he must have just read her mind.
"What happened on Christmas, mo stor?"
She had never talked of that fateful night to anyone outside of her family before, but as she took in the softened features of his face that reflected her pained look, she took a shuddering breath and sat beside him, grabbing his hand to steady herself. As she leaned into him, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, gathering her into the warmth of his strong embrace.
There was nothing left to say other than the unbridled truth, and she began reciting the haunting tale without sugar-coating a single word.
"The year before the war, my mother was shot on her way home from the market after buying me a Christmas present. She was the only thing I loved and the only thing that was holding my life together. I hadn't had any formal medical training yet, but I was the only one who could look after her. I tried my best. But the bullet pierced her chest and glanced off her spinal cord. She hasn't talked or moved since, but somehow she is still alive."
"Why didn't you take her to the hospital?" His words were genuinely curious and not accusatory as some others might be given the circumstances she had just outlined.
"I had always wondered why my brother Davey was always set against the idea. I now know that he was probably scared of the questions and the implications that could come for him because of it. He was with her that day. The bullet that struck my mother was meant for him."
Caroline shuddered again as the sinister aura of her brother flooded her body at the mention of his name, making her feel sick. Shame burned through her as she thought back to how only a month ago, she was still caught up in his web, skulking around and stealing precious medical supplies for his criminal operation. What would John think if he knew? Would he still look at her with the same stars in his eyes once he found out she was worse than the rough-around-the-edges girl from the wrong part of London?
"What kind of trouble was your brother running with?"
The kind that had your own mother shot in the street, that's what. Then, shaking her head, she thought about the question. Davey's whole operation had started as innocent, as a way for him and some of his friends to scrape together a few pennies to buy themselves some decent food. But his gang grew over the years, along with their egos and Davey began to accumulate more territories, more enemies and all the other dangers that came along with it.
"Getting their mitts on things that didn't belong to them."
The simple statement summed it up perfectly.
She felt John clear his throat as he adjusted himself beside her, yet his hands that had settled onto her hips, grasped her more firmly pressing him closer to her.
"It's not the stealing that bothers me the most." she felt the need to clarify. "A real man puts his family first and ensures their safety before carrying on with whatever he feels he must. That is the problem with my father and my brother. They think and care for no one but themselves."
"And that will be their downfall." John cut in, kissing the top of her head. "Their little gang won't ever last with that giant chink in their armour. Where is your mother now?"
"My father died shortly after her death, and drank himself into the grave. My youngest brother Mick had always been on the periphery of Davey's tricks, but he's serving in France. I haven't heard from him in months, though. And Davey… he's still up to his tricks back in London. As for me, when the war started, I joined up as a nurse with hopes of gaining the skills to be able to look after her. Make her more comfortable if that was possible. Until all this is over, she's in a boarding house for disabled women; I pay for her care with my wages. I save the rest of my money towards saving to buy us a small cottage in the country, away from London and the mess my brother is making of it. If this war ever ends, that is."
She swallowed hard, placing her hand on her chest to try to quell her racing heart that beat faster with every word she spewed. Never had her deepest secrets been spilled so entirely in the lap of another person, and never had either of them spoken of life after the war.
Before she had met John, her mother was the only other person in her life. Everything she did, every waking moment she spent worrying over how she could make things right again. But she had barely thought of her mother in weeks, and she felt sick with the shame of acknowledging it. Though she had yet to indulge herself in thinking of what life could look like after the war with him, it was a constant struggle.Those were floodgates she didn't know she could handle opening just yet.
"Now it makes sense why it has taken me so long to find my way into here," he said, sliding his hand up her arm to tap her chest over her heart. "You're in so much pain, love."
The paper cuts on her heart added up into the thousands, and his words seemed to lather a salve on them so that, just for the moment, they didn't sting as much as they used to.
Caroline had let her guard down entirely, so she was just as surprised as he was when he reached out to rest his hand on her wrist, she unconsciously wrenched her hand away from him.
Her face flushed when she looked into his confused eyes, and she scrambled to reconcile the situation.
"I'm sorry I -" he began first, folding his hands across his lap and averting her eyes.
"No, it's okay for you to touch me. I want you to touch me. It's just…" Caroline tried to fumble for the right words as flashes of memories of different men grabbing onto her wrist in ways that couldn't be farther from how John had just touched her. "I'm not used to men touching me there in a way that wasn't meant to control or hurt me."
The words tumbled from her mouth before her brain could catch up, and she returned her hand to the edge of his bed, wanting desperately to connect with his touch again, but scared at what his reaction would be now that he was privy to the shameful secrets she locked inside her.
His eyes darkened, and his posture stiffened as he looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.
"No one will ever hurt you again, not while I'm breathing."
"Thank you," she whispered, calming slightly. " Though I try not to live in the past." She said, reaching for his hand again and lacing his fingers through her own. "Not when this is my present."
—-
Over the next two weeks, Caroline had been back to see John twice a day, sometimes more, even if she was assigned to other wards. Which, much to her chagrin, seemed to be happening quite regularly.
"I hadn't realized you were assigned to special Private Shelby." Nurse Fagan quipped at her one morning just as she strolled upon the ward, intending to make her way to his bed.
"I haven't been," Caroline responded with a hard stare.
"So, what are you doing here? I believe your shift in theatre doesn't begin for another half hour."
"I'm here because your lack of attention to this soldier nearly killed him. You were required to check on his incision every four hours, and you failed. Therefore, I'm certain you can understand how much extra diligence should be required."
Nurse Fagan's nostrils flared at the comment, her jaw set, and she turned sharply away. Caroline had figured that had been the end of it before she heard the VAD mutter under her breath, "that or the fact that you've been sneaking around for weeks with the man."
Caroline chose to ignore the comment, as the root of it was not entirely false. But it did plant a seed within her that if Nurse Fagan had taken notice of her attachment to Private Shelby, who else might have. She hadn't exactly done a thorough job of hiding how much time she spent alone with him behind his curtains. Her mind dawned with recognition as she now had the reason why she worked almost exclusively in theatre these days. At the time, she had thought that was where Matron needed her skills the most as the hospital worked through the backlog of soldiers that remained in their care. But she should have known that not much slipped past the nose of their hawk-eyed supervisor.
Ignoring the warning bells coursing through her veins, she set off again towards his bed. The privacy screen was still set up around his bed, most likely by design by the other nurses than practical at this point. John had undoubtedly left quite the impression on everyone in his time at the hospital.
"Good morning!" She sang as she came around the curtain to find him writing a letter, his eyes igniting as he met her gaze.
"Hello, sweetheart." He replied brightly.
John had gone from strength to strength since his surgery, each day regaining the colour in his face and robustness in his constitution. The doctor was surprised he was making gains as quickly as he was, but Caroline had all but guaranteed the outcome. Even if it meant that she pulled double shifts to ensure she could be there to tend to his every need. Though Caroline had no regrets about spending her precious extra time caring for him, the stress was beginning to show on her body. In the past two weeks, her uniform hung slack on her body as she had missed more meals than she could count, and her feet were permanently in pain. Most distressingly, her hair had continued to shed in devastating handfuls each morning and night every time she brushed it.
"How are we feeling this morning?" She smiled as she looked down upon him, and he put his stationary and pencil on his bedside table, patting the edge of his bed.
"Better than yesterday," he replied as she took a seat at the edge of his bed, feeling the elation of her toes as the pressure was instantly relieved.
"Wonderful! I'll take a final look before I head to theatre. I start my shift in twenty," Caroline added, though the last words were lost under the cough that she tried to suppress in her sleeve.
"Are you feeling alright, love?" He grimaced as his hand snaked around her waist to stroke the small of her back.
"I'm fine," she lied, swallowing hard to lubricate her throat against the hoarseness she had felt when she woke up this morning, totally exhausted. "Who are you writing to?" She suddenly changed the topic. It was going to be a long day in the surgical ward, and she wanted to enjoy every moment she had to spend with him.
"My Aunt Polly," he said slowly, removing his hand from her back and pulling out the letter to show her.
"Are you close?"
"She practically raised us when mum passed, and dad went on the road."
Though Caroline and John had discussed many aspects of their childhood and their pasts over the last month, she had noticed that he glossed over specific names and relationships, and she had never tied it all together. It all made sense now. And it also made sense how he seemed to know precisely how to respond when she shared the stories of her own loss. Her heart hurt for him, but she could tell by his voice that he had come to terms with it, as he might have been reciting what he had for lunch based on the tone.
"You have siblings?" Caroline already knew he did, based on some of the ridiculous stories he shared about the trouble he would get into as a boy. But she had this desperate need to know everything about him, so she pressed for more.
"There's six of us in total. I've two brothers who are serving as Sappers. Tommy and Arthur. But that was never for me. I fucking hate tight spaces. I don't want nothing to do with scurrying underground in the dark." he said as he pulled a face before continuing. "Then I've got my sister Ada, whose home with Aunt Pol looking after things at home for us, like my littlest brother Finn. He's twelve but will likely be the busiest of the bunch."
"What about the sixth?"
He looked at her furrowed brow, and she clarified, "the sixth sibling. You only mentioned the names of the five of you."
"I had a twin brother, James. But he died when we were ten."
There it was. The sadness in his voice that Caroline expected to hear when he spoke of his parents earlier.
"I'm so sorry, John."
"It was an accident. We were playing near the Cut when I slipped in. He pulled me out." he said quickly as his fingers began rhythmically running over the curves of her waist and hips as if he was trying to distract himself.
"Did he drown?"
It took him a few seconds to respond, and Caroline nearly prompted again before he cleared his throat and answered again, his fingers now plucking at the seam line of her skirt.
"We were born early. James was the smallest, and he had always been prone to coughing. But the day he pulled me out of the river, he got sick. He died a week later. My dad left the day of his funeral. And it's been just Aunt Pol and the six of us ever since." he finished with a false sense of levity that Caroline knew was meant to signal that the conversation about his brother was over.
"Your Aunt Polly must be a saint."
"You've no idea."
"I'm sure she and my mum could take over England with all the mischief they have managed between the two of our families." It felt good to talk so candidly about their families, normal even, and she snuggled in closer to him, breathing in his familiar scent.
"Especially after raising such a wild woman like yourself, I don't doubt it." He grinned, and she gave him a small punch on his shoulder, making him cry out before silencing him with a kiss.
They broke apart, both of them giggling just when the curtain of the privacy screen whipped open, and Matron stood there with her arms folded tight against her chest.
Caroline tried to scramble to her feet, their jovial bubble popping abruptly.
"Nurse Robinson, I need to see you in my office directly."
Caroline was too embarrassed to respond, so she merely scuttled out of the room, throwing a forlorn look over her shoulder as she silently said goodbye to John.
How could she have let her guard down so much that something like this could have happened?
Just as she was about to pass out of earshot, she caught the conversation that passed between Matron and John as she fled down the aisle.
"It wasn't her fault, Matron; I was the one who asked her to sit down."
"And it was her that should have declined! Nurse Fagan will be in shortly to check your stitches. Good day, Private Shelby."
—-
Caroline waited outside on the porch leading to Matron's office which was an old wooden shed, just steps from the main operating theatre and reception ward. She had never seen the inside and she awaited Matron's return with dread as she paced back and forth in front of the small window. After what felt like days, but was only perhaps a few minutes, Matron arrived, her stone-faced demeanor opening the door to usher her in without a sound. Caroline scuttled in first with her head hung low, awaiting her lashing.
"You do know Nurse Robinson, there are other soldiers on this ward who could use personal attention." Matron said evenly once they were both situated in the office.
"Matron?" Caroline questioned honestly, trying to keep her voice as steady and professional as possible. As much as she had lived for her moments spent with John over the past few weeks, she still didn't wish for things to end like this.
"I must tell you that Private Shelby will be gone in three days. Doctor Wallace will sign him off as A1 tomorrow, and he is to return to his unit on Sunday morning."
Three days. The words stung as if Matron had just slapped her.
"That is welcomed news." she swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat betraying her words.
Matron stared at her with a stern and slightly raised brow while she walked behind her desk that Caroline stood in front of.
"We all have our favourite, Nurse Robinson." Matron's voice said softly, all edge lost as she sat down in her chair. "Just try not to make it so obvious." Matron then did the most shocking thing Caroline had ever seen as she pulled out a small carved snuff box from her desk and dabbed a pinch on her hand before taking a quick sniff. As if nothing happened at all, Matron's steady voice continued on while Caroline stood on shaky legs, trying to understand what was going on.
"The thing is I need you to be present for all soldiers. Each man needs the loving care of a woman's word."
Somehow she had let her priorities come undone in the past month and though she wasn't sure if this is what Matron had intended, she was filled with shame. Falling for a soldier was the last thing she had ever wanted, and now it could cost her everything. Caroline admired Matron and kept her in the highest regard; she had worked hard these past three years since she had come to France, and to let her down disappointed her to her core.
"I'm sorry, Matron. I'll do better, Matron." Caroline atoned, barely above a whisper.
"There is nothing to apologise for. You are an excellent nurse, and your standards are still top-notch. However, I have an eye for these things. I've been navigating delicate matters since the Boer War. And I must say, you do hide it well. But he is a charming one."
Matron's words calmed her slightly, knowing that, hopefully, Caroline did not completely spoil her reputation due to her uncharacteristic lack of self-control. Yet she couldn't help but let out a small laugh as an image of John's sly smile overtook her mind, and she fought the heat that threatened to flush her skin and betray her true feelings to Matron again.
"It's important that they make you laugh, Nurse. We'll all need that after this war is over." Matron's eyes glittered as she walked past Caroline opening the door to her office and letting in the surprisingly bright and warm sunlight. "This war could end soon, and life will return to normal. London can't be too far from - where is he from again?"
Caroline paused on the precipice of the door stoop, a step away from exiting onto the porch and looked back into Matron's kind eyes.
"Birmingham," she breathed, her heart still fluttering fast due to the altercation, "He's from Birmingham."
"There you go, all's fair and so on," Matron grinned before reaching out to grasp Caroline's forearm and catching her eyes again. "Just one more thing Nurse Robinson. One of the reasons I wanted to bring you in here was to discuss your future in nursing. You have a bright future ahead of you and I feel like you must consider all your options before choosing a path that closes that door to you."
Caroline nodded her fuzzled head, feeling her heart and her brain being cleaved in two separate directions each word that Matron spoke.
—-
I promise the next chapter will be coming soon and things are going to get spicy. If I can pull myself together I might even be confident enough to add in a scene I've been playing with that might make me have to add a few more content tags ;) Encouragement would be helpful :) Caroline is a whirlwind of confusion and she'll try to figure herself out as best she can.
Anyways, I am also kicking myself for setting this at Christmas time when it is 35 degrees and sunny where I live. Don't know what I was thinking! Oh well, maybe come back and read it in December when you are looking for cozy vibes haha. One of the reasons I am writing this story is because I am writing an original WW1 romance that is heavily set in Spring/Summer that I am taking a break from for writer's block reasons. And if writing about Christmas in July helps break that block for me then all the better.
