Yes, yet another chapter from me. I hope that the breaks between chapters are not too short?
Traditionally, thank you for all the words of encouragement!
Fighting for Your Dreams 1919
Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave
A paradise for a sect; the savage too
From forth the loftiest fashion of his sleep
Guesses at Heaven; pity these have not
Trac'd upon vellum or wild Indian leaf
The shadows of melodious utterance.
But bare of laurel they live, dream, and die;
For Poesy alone can tell her dreams,
With the fine spell of words alone can save
Imagination from the sable charm
And dumb enchantment. Who alive can say,
'Thou art no Poet may'st not tell thy dreams?'
Since every man whose soul is not a clod
Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved
And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.
Whether the dream now purpos'd to rehearse
Be poet's or fanatic's will be known
When this warm scribe my hand is in the grave.
– John Keats - "The Fall of Hyperion"
June 1919
"I love you so, so much," murmured Sybil as she leant her face closer to her husband's. Tom was still sleeping, but the touch of Sybil's lips on his mouth immediately woke him up. He blinked and smiled at his still newlywed wife. "So, today it is you who wakes me up? Lovely," he muttered and tightened his embrace around her. Sybil smiled in return and snuggled herself closer to his chest, sighing contentedly.
"I love our mornings. I even try to wake up earlier so that we'll have more time for just lying in bed together," she confessed.
"Me too. Though every minute with you is precious," whispered Tom and began nuzzling her hair.
Sybil giggled. "Is this some sort of competition? Then I love every second spent with you."
Her husband was too preoccupied with kissing her hair to answer immediately.
"No competitions, darling. Just love," he ultimately responded.
"I still can't believe it. You and me, just lying in the bed in the morning, so closely intertwined…"
"A proof that dreams sometimes come true," Tom beamed.
"Hopefully another of my dreams will come true…"
Tom knew precisely what his wife was talking about. Today she was going for a meeting at a hospital to try to get a job as a nurse again. For the fourth time.
"I wonder what they all must think about me there. Crazy?"
"No, a determined and strong-minded woman," stated Tom decisively as he placed a comforting kiss to her temple.
"We'll see. I think it's time for me to get up and make you some breakfast so that you won't go hungry to work."
"No, darling. Today I'm going to make breakfast and bring it to you to bed. After all, you have a hard day ahead of you", Tom said, kissed his wife for the last time, and got out of bed.
Some time later, he reappeared in the bedroom, carrying a small tray with scrambled eggs, a slice of bread, and a cup of tea. Sybil grinned when she saw him, but once he put the tray on her lap, she realized that she couldn't take even a bite – she was just too nervous.
Tom sensed what was going on and leant to whisper into her ear, "Everything will be fine, but you need to have some energy in order to face the day. And remember that I love you so, so much."
Sybil's eyes watered as she held out her hand for a fork.
It was raining when Sybil approached the hospital. Heavy clouds covered the sky in its whole, making it impossible for the sun rays to break through. Sybil's mood was dark as well. Truth be told, she began to feel disheartened about the whole matter, though she knew that it was not in her nature to give up. She raised her hand to take away a lock of hair from her face, and her gaze fell upon a gold band on her finger. Her wedding ring. Darling, darling Tom. He so believes in me. How can I nurture such dark thoughts when I have such a wonderful husband waiting for me at home?
She smiled, and with a new boost of confidence, boldly opened the hospital door.
The room in which Sybil was interviewed was sterile and gloomy, and the matron that was interviewing her, Miss Flanagan, stern-looking, but each time the young woman felt her heart clench in panic, she looked at her wedding ring. This never failed to lift her spirits.
"So, Mrs. Branson, it's the third time you're applying for a job at our hospital?"
"Actually, its… the fourth," Sybil mumbled and mentally prepared herself for enduring the matron's strict gaze.
The older woman's face, however, expressed no distinguishable emotions.
"Why is it so important for you to get this job? Are you and your husband experiencing hard times?"
"No, my husband's salary is enough for the two of us, though I won't pretend that any additional money wouldn't be appreciated. But I simply want to work. I want to feel useful, and I love working as a nurse."
Miss Flanagan's brow furrowed. Sybil didn't know what to make of this.
"You're well aware that your work experience is not exceptional? You've only worked as a nurse at a convalescent house that was your family's residence at the same time."
"I've also worked at the hospital in the village…"
"Village that belongs to your family as well. How can I trust that you know what real, hard work looks like? Your aristocratic upbringing, Mrs. Branson, for sure has influenced your habits."
Sybil felt anger bubbling inside her. She didn't know what to say to express what she thought on the matter and at the same time be completely polite. In desperation, she glanced once more at the band on her finger. It worked yet again.
"The doctor that was in charge of the hospital gave me no special treatment. I might have lived at the house that hosted the patients, but that didn't mean I didn't have to wake up early or work late shifts. That I was brought up as an aristocrat is not adequate information about my character. I don't believe that class determines who you are, also if you were born into privilege."
Miss Flanagan was momentarily rendered speechless before saying, "You definitely have the spirit and determination, Mrs. Branson. I think that we may employ your for a trial period and see how it goes."
When Tom came back home after work, his wife immediately flew herself into his arms with a joyful shriek: "I've got it, Tom! I've got the job!". He kissed her in response and murmured into her ear, "I knew it, I knew it." Then, he twirled her around cheerfully.
There was so much joy in the small flat that day, and things like burnt dinner or bills to pay could not affect the happy couple's mood in the slightest.
A few days later, the Bransons went to a small party organized by Liam and his wife Caroline. Throughout the gathering, Sybil couldn't help but appreciate the Irish people's spirit and their ability to have fun. This still amazed her, even though she had already attended several Irish parties. She also came to adore Irish beer, and was now joyfully sipping a glass of it in the corner as Tom talked to his long-time-no-see friends from school.
Sybil was well aware that one of the purposes of this party was to introduce her to some of Caroline's female friends. During the course of the meeting, the young Mrs. Branson noticed that one of the women was staring intently at her. The woman's name was Maureen O'Donnell and she worked at a small shop nearby the Bransons' flat.
Ultimately, Maureen decided to talk to Sybil, and Sybil learnt why exactly the young Irishwoman was so interested in her.
"Mrs. Branson…"
"Sybil."
"Sybil, I…" Maureen stuttered, "I wanted to share with you something… I feel so alone with this… I don't think anyone here can understand me, except for you."
Sybil was surprised by this confession, but nevertheless encouraged Maureen to speak further.
"I… met a man with whom I fell head over heels in love. The problem is… Sean is an English soldier stationing in Dublin."
At that moment, Sybil knew why the Irishwoman thought that she was the only person who could understand her.
"Now with the war happening… I'm from the family of Irish republicans, and my brother was killed in the Easter Rising… my family will be furious if they ever learn about our attachment."
"Do you want to legitimize your union?"
"It's our dream," Maureen uttered with a sigh, "we thought about running away, but I know that this would hurt my parents immensely."
Sybil pondered her answer carefully for some time before saying, "I know that it's a difficult decision, one that requires careful consideration. However, I believe that it is always worth fighting for your dreams, and for love."
"Not everyone is as brave as you are, Sybil," Maureen replied with a sad smile.
"Don't think that I'm so brave. Leaving my family wasn't easy for me. It took me years to make the decision even though I knew that I loved Tom dearly. In my view, the fact that you consider everything proves that you're serious about Sean. I think that you should wait until the situation improves, perhaps even until the war is over. Meanwhile, don't resign from meeting him. Support him and be his source of strength."
Maureen nodded and squeezed Sybil's hand in gratitude, "I'll take your advice. I'll try to be brave and fight for this dream."
The two women exchanged smiles as Tom approached them and asked his wife to dance.
Sybil beamed at him and accepted his hand; soon she was twirling around the small room in the arms of the only person for whom she was willing to give up everything in the world.
When the Bransons were lying in bed that night, Sybil told Tom all about Maureen and Sean and their story.
"And of course you told her not to give up?" Tom commented.
Once Sybil nodded her agreement, he grinned and teased, "My darling, courageous romantic. It's a pity that no one advised you to elope me with me before the war was over."
Sybil swatted him on the chest. "You know that my long period of consideration does not make my love for you any weaker. I don't believe a human being can love someone deeper than I love you."
Tom's eyes watered. "The same for me, love," he uttered in a hushed voice.
"Had you believed that you could love another person that much before you fell for me?"
"No, dearest."
"Me neither. It's incredible, isn't it? I truly feel that we are part of the same person, of the same soul."
Tom replied to this by giving his beloved an ardent, tender kiss. Of course he felt exactly the same.
The kiss lasted, lasted and lasted...