Patrick speaks - Part 3

"Oh, Patrick, it is beautiful," Marianne beamed. She looked at the ring at her finger and held it up for Patrick to admire what he had just put on her left ring finger.

"This is not an engagement ring, though," Patrick explained. "I want you to have this as a token of my love. And as a promise that as soon as this bloody war is over and I am back in one piece, I am going to ask you to marry me first thing. You are going to have a proper ring and we'll be off to the registry office the second after. That is," he paused, "if you still are going to have me."

"I will always have you, Patrick Turner," Marianne murmured and leaned in to initiate a heated kiss while beginning to unbutton his uniform shirt.

It was late March 1943 and Patrick had just received his mobilization order. In order to make up for this he had invited Marianne to a weekend at the seaside, a first short holiday, and probably their last weekend together without work before he had to leave for his military training in April.

The weather was cool and rainy, but neither cared, for apart from short walks outside, Marianne and Patrick spent the two and a half days in their room, cuddled up to each other in the bed, trying to hold on to each other for they knew they would soon have to part.

Patrick was expecting to be sent to the continent within the next two months. Just after he had received news he was supposed to leave, Marianne had applied for a transfer back to London.

When she had first arrived at Aldershot about a year ago, she had only planned to stay for the required three months of hospital training. She had intended to return to her native London. Her plans had changed soon after she had met Patrick. But now, with the prospect of him being gone for an extended period of time, Marianne was afraid of suffering from heartbreak if she stayed back alone. So she had decided to return to London, stay with her mother again and be placed at a hospital or shelter in the area.

Marianne had read English and French. She knew all the classics and loved the theatre. She had been a teacher with all of her heart. But after the Blitz during which her school had been transformed into a makeshift hospital, Marianne had decided for the time being, she would be of better use as a nurse than a teacher. She had enlisted for a basic nursing training organized by the Red Cross, hoping that it would come in handy whatever she did in the future. Also, the war couldn't go on forever, and she had the hope that one day in the not too distant future, she would be able to teach again.

Just two weeks before he had received his orders, Patrick had introduced Marianne to his mother. He had invited Mrs Turner to visit him because he wanted her to meet Marianne. Even though she was not his fiancée, he introduced her as the woman he was going to marry as soon as he returned from wherever they were going to send him. Mrs Turner and Marianne had liked each other instantly and Mrs Turner had insisted she and Marianne stay in touch by writing regularly.

Marianne tried not to think about how soon she was going to be back to London. For now, she and Patrick had still a few days together, a few days they had decided they would make the most of.

London, 27 April 1943

Patrick has been in Birmingham for almost four weeks now. We keep writing each other at least once per day, often twice. But writing can never make up for being near to each other. I have never felt so whole with somebody else. Never so empty and lost without someone. I feel that there doesn't pass one second in which I don't miss him with every fibre of my body.

Those past days I have been suspecting I might be pregnant. We always took precautions, and I know it is hardly possible that I really am. But my body feels different, something is different. It is as if fate wants to tell me that I need to retain a part of Patrick. I also cannot imagine having a child without him, though should he never come back, I would at least have this part of him inside and with me. This may even be comforting, whatever is going to happen.

Still, he is here, but it may not be long until they are going to send him away now. They are not yet telling them anything, but we have to probably expect him to leave any day now, come May.

I wish he had granted me my one and only wish and let us get married before. It would be my husband who is gone, and I would officially be allowed all the feelings I am feeling. It sounds cruel, but this is how it is now. I have no right missing him, and I wouldn't even have any right having his child. I wouldn't even know if something happened to him if I didn't get along with his mother. I wonder whether this was the real reason behind him introducing us to each other. So that he knew we knew of each other and should something happen to him, she might let me know.

I have to end now, I have to get up early tomorrow morning. I am going to be interviewed by the Sisters of Nonnatus House in Poplar as they are in need of assistant nurses for their shelter. Even though it will take me over one hour every morning to travel there by bus, I need to do something useful, something with my hands, something to make this bloody war more bearable. I can't work with soldiers anymore, not while Patrick is out there.

"You are a bloody old fool, Turner," Ted huffed, lighting another cigarette.

"Oh, shut up, Ted," Patrick murmured, lighting himself one, too.

The two of them were sitting on a wall near the harbour of Catania, Sicily. They were part of the allied force which had invaded Sicily in July 1943. They were on the island for the time being, expecting to soon cross onto the mainland, and free Italy from the fascist forces.

It was a warm summer night, cicadas were chirping, and the smells were abundant. They had a rare evening off, the first in weeks - only neither was able to enjoy the setting. They were in a war, and neither knew what to expect from one day to the next.

"You should have married her," Ted said. "You're suffering like a dog," he added. "I hope she is, too. Do you think she will be ready to wait for you one, two, three years?"

"Ted, don't cry wolf," Patrick cried. "I hope we're back home by Christmas and yes, I won't waste another second dragging her to the registry office."

Ted chuckled. "Oh, I want to see that. You dragging Miss Parker anywhere. She'll have you by your throat and in pieces more quickly than you'd know."

Patrick smiled. He loved Marianne having her own mind. Some might call her headstrong, and Ted, still suffering from having been rejected, never missed to point to it.

"You know, I was pretty angry at you at first," Ted said. "You had what I couldn't have. I still don't know why she would pick you over me, to be honest. But now, seeing you all love-struck puppy, I think you two were meant to be. I am going to be your best man, aren't I?"

Ted paused, taking a few drags of his cigarette. "I think we will be alright, mate," he added, his voice suddenly very earnest. "I know we will be. It won't be a Sunday walk in the park, perhaps, but we will come out fine, the two of us. Believe me." He dropped his cigarette bud to the floor and crushed it with his foot and let out a long breath. Then he punched Patrick into his side playfully, somewhat awkwardly, to cheer his friend up.

Patrick smiled a sad smile. He had just received a letter from Marianne telling him she had suffered a miscarriage. She was now working as an assistant nurse with an Anglican order in the East End. One day she had collapsed during her shift. One of the nuns had been with her all the way, had taken her to the hospital and stayed with her for a whole day.

Patrick had cried over the letter and now felt a pain he never had experienced before. Pain over not having been able to be with Marianne in times of suffering. Pain over a child that was not supposed to live. Even though he had always told Marianne he didn't want to have children as long as there was war, the very real possibility of there being one made him realize how much he would have loved to see this child be born, his and Marianne's.

Instead, he was sitting here, a thousand miles away from her, entangled in the smell of salt water and rotting fish, his days and nights an endless stream of blood, smashed bones, cracked skulls, and severed limbs. Even though he took great strength out of his capability of being able to help, this meant nothing at all when this meant he wasn't able to be with the woman he loved and who was experiencing so much heartache.

Patrick made a choking sound.

"What is it?" Ted asked.

"She may have died," Patrick said, his voice constrained. "She had a miscarriage and she wrote that she may have died."

Ted nodded. He felt sorry for his friend. He himself had never been close to considering getting married. He agreed with Patrick that a war wasn't the time to get married. But then he had seen his friend and Marianne numerous times and had to admit there couldn't be a better match.

25 February 1944

I haven't heard from Patrick since late January. I am very worried. All I know is he is at Monte Cassino now and the news is sparse but never good. I should not complain, really. Others have had worse. He has been alive so far, and every day that we don't get any news is a good one.

I keep writing to Mrs Turner regularly and I even consider visiting her during the summer. She suggested it when we spoke over the phone on Christmas and I have been considering it ever since. She never lets on in her weekly letters, but I can tell she is as worried as I am, even more probably, for I cannot imagine how a mother must feel about her only son being far away.

We were hoping Patrick would receive word he might be sent home, even for just one or two weeks. If not for Christmas, perhaps for Easter. From what he and Ted are writing, they must be working every day and every night. Surely even in wartimes, they can't keep on like this, the army should take care of their doctors. He keeps promising me we are getting married as soon as they are going to give him a holiday, and I can't wait for news as to when this will be.

"So while you were away in the war, Mummy was very ill and Sister Evangelina helped her?"

"Yes, Mummy was ill and because she had been working with the Sisters for a while back then, Sister Evangelina was with her when she had to go to hospital and after. I was very grateful, because I couldn't be with Mummy. This really is the reason we are living here now, Tim."

"Why is that, Dad?" Timothy asked.

"Well, after I had to go to the continent, your mother returned to London. She heard that the Sisters were in need of nursing staff and applied there. It wasn't exactly around the corner from where Granny Parker lives, but Mummy liked the Sisters and said she wanted a change from working with soldiers. Instead, they were taking care of those in poverty. Back then, there was no National Heath Service, so many people weren't even able to afford the most basic health care. This was what the Sisters did back then."

"And when you returned, you joined Mummy here in Poplar?"

"Yes, it was kind of that way, son," Patrick chuckled.

Patrick and Marianne sat next to each other on a bench in the large park of Northfield Military Hospital. It was four weeks since Patrick had arrived here. Spring was in full course, just as in the days three years ago when their romance had first begun. Back then, Patrick had often plucked a flower and stuck it into Marianne's short curls. Now, neither of them even noticed the colours and sweet scents around them, the warmth of the sun or the birds singing their spring songs.

Today was the first time Patrick had been allowed a visitor. As soon as Marianne had received his letter, she had packed her bag and left with the next train. She needed to see him. When a nurse led her to him sat in the spacey entrance hall, Marianne couldn't believe what she saw. A thousand times and more she had imagined how it would be to be seeing Patrick again, after having been apart for two years. Even though her mind told her that he would most likely look differently, the war having left its marks, she wasn't at all prepared at what she saw when Patrick, guided by the nurse, entered the hall.

His eyes empty, his face grey, his body thin and limp. Her Patrick had become an empty shell, a shadow of the man she had fallen in love with. Still, he was her Patrick, and while he didn't embrace her or take her hand into his as he would always do before the war, he let her touch him and lead him outside, for Marianne felt she must choke within the walls of the hospital.

"I hold you true to your word, you know," Marianne snuffled and wiped her eyes with a small while handkerchief. "First thing, take me to the registry office. You won't get off the hook that easily, Dr Turner."

Patrick smiled a small smile, a weary one, but it was a smile, Marianne noticed through her teary eyes.

"And then, I think you might consider joining me in the East End. I think you are going to be out of the hospital soon, and you need to earn a living for me to be wanting to marry you," she forced a smile. "The Sisters have been asking about you so many times. They said they are in need of a capable GP in Poplar. They have one who is about retirement age and if you would consider taking over from him, they would put in a good word for us."

Patrick nodded. He was barely able to make it through a day in the hospital. Get dressed, breakfast, group therapy, lunch, nap, occupational therapy, another nap, dinner, writing a letter, go to sleep. These were his days and he felt quite tired by tackling them. He just could not think beyond Northfield right now. How many men had he seen dying? Would he ever be able to touch his stethoscope or a syringe?

"I know, you may need more rest and more time for recuperating," Marianne said hoarsely. "But you will be well eventually. And I know you, Patrick Turner. Once you are released from here, you will need to do something in an instant. You are not made for sitting around idle. And think of it, already there are more babies being born in Poplar than in most other parts of town. And with the war ending and all the men coming home, even more will be born. What else could be a better job than after what you have been through?" She paused and looked down onto her lap.

"Also, I was thinking that we, too, could have a baby," her voice faded out.

Patrick breathed in. Very carefully he took her left hand with his right and squeezed it lightly. It was a feather light squeeze, though it took all the strength that he could muster at this moment.

Yes, I want this baby, his squeeze said. I want this more than anything in the world for it means that I have survived the war and came back to you. There was another baby we were not supposed to have. Yes, we are going to have this baby.

This was all Marianne needed from her visit. They spent another hour sitting in silence, Patrick's hand still touching hers, both certain that yes, one day he would be healed, and yes, they would be spending a happy future together. Even if it meant to wait another two years.