Chapter 8

Christopher Foyle was exhausted and sore. It had been an interesting, difficult and painful morning. He slumped on his bed. The young lady said she'd be coming back tomorrow. Could one be shot for desertion for deserting a hospital?

It had begun at 9:00 this morning. Foyle had been casually looking around for Caroline—she was usually at work by then. A pert young blonde had bounced up to the foot of his bed and announced, "Sergeant Foyle, I'm Mary Reagan! I'm your Reconstruction Aid."

Foyle looked as bewildered as he felt. He quickly recovered and said, "Ahh, so you're…you're the one Dr Allen said was to come by and help with my arm?"

"Oh yes, that's me!" She seemed sprinkle her speech with exclamation marks. "Let's get to work!"

The next forty-five minutes seemed interminable. His poor tender arm and shoulder were stretched and pulled and prodded without mercy, and all with a cheery "Good work!"

Foyle had heard much lovely poetry in his life, but his favourite line as of this morning was, "Just grand! That will be all for today." But the poetry appreciation was short-lived as the chirpy Miss Reagan continued, "I'll see you tomorrow at the same time!"

And so he sat on his bed, arm throbbing, head reeling. He looked feebly around, wondering what was keeping Caroline, and caught sight of Johnny, the youngster who handed around the post, heading his way.

A letter from his mum. He carefully opened it.

1 March 1916

Dearest Christopher

I'm sorry son to take such a long time to write but it's still hard.

I was so distressed to learn you were hurt. But thank God that it was not more serious than it was. The nurse you mentioned sounds so kind and sweet to all of you

All I really do is sit and try to read but look out the window and I don't feel very strong. Ivy is so good to me, patient and kind but I know it must be wearing to have me. I want so much to see you but I know travel is difficult.

I have a favour to ask of you, Christopher. It might work out well for you if hospital releases you, as you let the flat when you went to France. Could you go stay in the house for a short while and go through Papa's papers for me? There are things I need to sign to give you what he left for you and me and I don't recall where he kept them. I don't know if he ever told you where he kept them, but I imagine it was somewhere in his desk or in the cabinet in the closet of his study.

If you can do this and post them to me I can put that worry aside for both of us. It also will be better for the cottage if you are there instead of just Mrs Neagle stopping by. But if you would do this for me, just visit her for the key and let her know she needn't. I'm sure her Polly would gladly come by to clean for you, and maybe even cook, if you like.

You are a fine man and I am very proud of you son. Your father would be proud too. Please be well and tell me soon what you decide.

Your loving

Mother

Christopher sighed as he finished reading. He agreed that it would work out well for him to recover in the house, and wondered if his father had actually ultimately left it to him. It was a pleasant place, but very small and almost on the outskirts of Hastings, not as close to the city centre as he needed it to be for his work. Especially now, he thought. If it will be as difficult to drive as Dr Allen claims, I'd best live where I can walk to the station. Who knows what kind of police work I'll find when I return. A constable who can't drive—I'll be walking a beat 'til I retire! Or riding in the back of the Black Maria like one of the Keystone Kops. His mouth skewed in a darkly humorous smile.

"Good news from your mother?"

He looked up to see Caroline standing beside him, two steaming cups of tea in her hands. He smiled broadly up at her until she sat beside the bed just where the morning sunlight streamed in from the upper windows of the ward, and he could see her face more clearly.

"Caroline, what's the matter?" His expression was now one of concern.

She shook her head, not able to meet his eyes. "It's nothing."

But he had already moved to sit on the right edge of his bed, peering more closely at her. Her eyes were red and bloodshot; her hair, while not entirely in disarray, wasn't done up in her usual neat fashion, and she had dark smudges under both eyes.

He furrowed his brow and his voice was stern. "Caroline, tell me."

"I will tell you," she said sadly. "But have your tea first," she held it out to him.

Foyle placed the cup on the bedside table and glanced about. Secure in the knowledge that no one would notice them at the moment, he took the other cup from her hands and touched her cheek softly. He whispered this time. "What's wrong?"

The young nurse shook her head. "I finally realised what a simpleton I've been. I've had suspicions for a long time, but I finally see that everyone knows, not just me. I feel such a fool!"

"Caroline, dear, what do you mean?"

She took a deep breath, glanced at his troubled face. She spoke in a low voice.

"Last night, when Mrs Ramsay told me that Charles wouldn't be home—that he was detained in London—I saw the look in her face and I knew she knew."

"Knew what?" Christopher gently coaxed.

"That she knew that Charles was straying, that he had been cheating on me with many different women for a long time. And as I went up to my room I was struck by the realisation that they all knew. The servants, our set, my friends, even my family; they all knew."

A dark silence fell between them. Caroline studied the tile floor as Christopher watched her face.

She continued speaking in a voice that had lost all its colour.

"Oh, I've known for a long time. Since we were first married—after the wedding trip. I noticed things… Small things, yes, but so many. One day I was in town doing a little shopping and I saw him in a café with a girl. The way they behaved, I knew all the small things had meant something. I waited and watched as they went to a hotel down the block." She looked up and took another deep breath.

"But last night was the first I realised that my shame was common knowledge. I went through the motions of getting ready to retire, but when I lay down I couldn't sleep. I relived each instance where I should have seen the truth but didn't. The significant look, the quick comment or just an odd feeling—it was clear to me that they all knew." Her voice quavered. "I don't know if I can stand it."

"Caroline, I'm so sorry." Foyle gently put his hand over hers. Oh, if only I could hold her! She needs me.

He was resolved. "My dear, can you meet me in 'our' classroom? You go ahead, and I'll follow in a moment."

Caroline looked at him. Her eyes had been drowning and now saw a glimmer of rescue. "Yes… yes, I'd like that. Just for a bit, and then I'll have to begin my work."

He watched her walk away, again. But this time it wouldn't be for an entire night—he was going to be with her in minutes. This time he was going to comfort her without reservations. He was finished with all the self-recrimination of the last week. The right thing, the moral thing was to be with the woman he loved when she needed him.

"Caroline."

She snuffled a bit into her handkerchief and looked around to see Christopher standing in the threshold of the schoolroom. He was still rubbing his left arm a bit gingerly as he walked towards her, and she touched it very gently and soothingly as he took her other hand.

They looked at each other longingly, but neither made any further move. Caroline cast down her eyes.

"Christopher, I… I didn't want you to know, honestly." She looked up again and he could see the pure misery in her soft eyes. "I didn't want you to think that I was trying to play upon your sympathies, to manipulate you somehow into…" She trailed off.

He nodded as he squeezed her hand and his lips twisted in a sardonic half-smile. "Funny thing. That was a letter from my mother, y'know. She was asking me to look after our place in Hastings while I recover. And to look for some personal papers of my dad's. I was dreading it and wondering if you'd go with me and help me. Then I wondered if you'd think I was just trying to get you alone."

His eyes danced as they fixed upon hers, but then his look of amusement was slowly transformed into a look of love and desire.

"…But I'd be lying if I claimed that I don't want to get you alone."

TBC...