‘Be grateful!’ another chided him. ‘After those forced marches I’m just glad to sit still.’
‘But why are we here?’ the other persisted.
‘Stop grousing,’ said another man, who from his tone Leo guessed to be the corporal in charge. ‘You’ll get enough action soon. We’re here to drive the infidels out of the Sultan’s territory and we move when we’re ordered to and not before. My guess is it won’t be long now.’
This appeared to put an end to the conversation. Leo looked at Malkovic and nodded back along the trench. When they were far enough away for their voices not to be heard he whispered, ‘Well, what were they saying? Anything useful?’
‘They are from the south,’ she whispered in return. ‘I recognize the accent. Somewhere around Ankara, I should guess. They have been marched here – forced marches – and they are waiting for the order to attack.’
She saw his eyes glitter in the reflected light from the dugout. ‘Did they know when?’
‘No. They have been here for two days and some of them are getting impatient. They expect it to be soon.’
He nodded and reached out to squeeze her arm. ‘Well done. That’s all I need. Come on. Let’s get back.’
This time the three sleepers did not stir as they picked their way over their feet. It seemed to Leo that it was a long way back to the entrance of the tunnel. Excitement had kept the adrenalin flowing until now, but as it subsided exhaustion took its place. She began to fear that they were lost in the maze of trenches, but Malkovic led the way without hesitation and at last the black hole of the tunnel loomed up out of the shadows. It took all her strength to haul herself back to the Bulgarian side. The sapper was waiting for them and set to work at once to block up the hole he had made, while Leo followed Malkovic back to the camp.
Back at his tent Malkovic turned to Leo. ‘So those men in the dugout had only recently arrived. What about the ones we met first?’
‘They are new, too. But they seemed very confident that they wouldn’t be staying long. I had the impression they expect to attack us very soon.’
Malkovic nodded and said no more. Leo expected congratulations, but the colonel had other things on his mind. He shouted for his orderly and when the man appeared, rubbing his eyes, he ordered, ‘Fetch Lieutenant Popitch to me, and then get me something to eat. I’m ravenous.’
The man went and Malkovic pointed to Leo’s clothes, which she had left on the chest. ‘Get dressed. I’ll be back in a moment.’
She scrambled into her clothes, afraid to hear Popitch or the orderly returning, and she was still doing up her buttons when the lieutenant came in. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow and she was suddenly consumed with embarrassment at the thought of what interpretation he might put on the situation. But surely, she reasoned, Malkovic could not be suspected of anything like that. Or could he? He had shown her more kindness in her guise as a boy than he had shown to her as a woman.
Further thought was banished as Malkovic came back in his usual uniform. ‘Michaelo, go and tell General Vasoff that I need to see him urgently. Wake him up if necessary. I’ll be with you shortly.’
‘Is something happening, sir?’ the young man enquired.
‘The Turks have been reinforced. It sounds as though they are preparing to make a counter-attack. For now they are resting the men after a long march but the attack could come at any moment. But if we can hit them first, while the new troops are still exhausted, we might break through. If not, then the sooner we get the armistice signed the better. Either way, we need to move fast. Go!’
Popitch left and the orderly came in with a tray carrying a bottle of wine, bread and cheese. At the sight, Leo’s stomach growled so loudly she thought Malkovic must hear, but he was already pouring himself a glass of wine. She shuffled her feet, hoping to attract his attention, and he put down the goblet and came over to her.
‘You did well, my lion cub. Thanks to your ears, we have vital information. If you hear tomorrow that there has been a great attack and that we have broken through the defences and are marching on Constantinople, you will know that you have had a hand in the victory. If, on the other hand, you hear in a few days that the fighting is over and the armistice has been signed, you will have contributed to that, too. A good night’s work, no?’
‘Yes, I hope so, sir,’ she said.
He squeezed her shoulder briefly. ‘Now, off you go. Get some sleep. Goodnight.’
She turned away to the tent flap and paused to cast a last glance at the tray of food. He was already cutting a hunk of bread.
‘Goodnight,’ she said.
He waved a knife at her and responded ‘Goodnight,’ with his mouth full. She went out into the darkness with an empty stomach and a jumble of emotions that refused to make any logical sense.
Thirteen
While Leo was crawling through the Turkish trenches, Victoria and Luke were sitting at a long table in the mess at the Bulgarian Red Cross hospital in Lozengrad, eating the best meal they had had for a long time. They had arrived that morning with a new casualty to be greeted by the nurses on duty with a cry of ‘Merry Christmas!’
‘What?’ Victoria exclaimed. ‘It’s not, is it? Do you mean today is Christmas Day?’
‘Didn’t you know?’ asked Sylvia Wallace, a vivacious girl who had often raised the spirits of her colleagues at difficult moments.
‘No, we had no idea. I’ve completely lost track of dates and there hasn’t been any mention of it back at Chataldzha.’
‘Well, there wouldn’t be, would there?’ her companion reasoned. ‘It’s Christmas for us but not for the Bulgars. They’re Orthodox, and Christmas for them is thirteen days later than ours.’
‘But we made up our minds to celebrate it anyway,’ Sylvia said. ‘We had a carol service last night and we even managed to make up little gifts for the men in the wards – just a few cigarettes mainly, but they appreciated it. They get so few comforts, poor creatures.’
‘The funny part was,’ the other girl broke in, ‘the students who interpret for us found out what was going on and explained it to the patients. So when we walked into the ward this morning all the men sat up in bed and shouted “Melly Chissimas”.’
‘No, really?’ Victoria laughed.
‘Apparently, some of them were so worried about getting it wrong that they lay awake muttering it to themselves half the night,’ Sylvia confirmed.
‘How sweet!’
‘I’m sorry we weren’t here,’ Luke said. ‘We seem to have missed out on the fun.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ Sylvia told him, ‘Not the best bit, anyway. We are all invited to dinner at the Red Cross hospital tonight, and I’m sure that includes you.’
That evening the director of the Red Cross hospital sent a small fleet of horse-drawn carriages to collect all the staff who could be spared and they were treated to a lavish meal of roast pork, the traditional Bulgarian Christmas dish, washed down with large quantities of wine and followed by many toasts to each other’s countries and the cooperation between the two medical teams. After swallowing glass after glass of slivovitz Victoria had to admit to herself that she was more drunk than she had ever been before.
In the carriage on the way home she found herself alone with Luke. He had held back, politely allowing all the others to climb into the first carriages, until they were the only ones left. It was a clear night, with a sharp frost and a sky brilliant with stars. There was a cutting edge to the wind and when she felt Luke’s arm round her shoulders her first instinct was to snuggle closer for warmth. Once she would have shrugged off such an advance with indignation but over the last weeks she had grown used to physical contacts, which had seemed at first casual, almost accidental, but which she had come to expect and enjoy. After all, she reasoned drowsily to herself, this was different. Luke wasn’t just any man trying his luck. He was a friend, a colleague – a comrade in arms. The thought made her giggle and he bent his head closer and asked ‘What’s the joke?’
She looked up at him. ‘Nothing. Just a thought.’
Then his lips found hers and her body erupted with a volcanic explosion of desire. She let the pressure of his lips open hers and shivered as his tongue touched her own. After a moment he drew back enough to look into her eyes.
‘I’ve been longing to do that. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Mmm,’ she murmured, and sought his lips again.
This time the kiss was longer and more passionate. She felt his hand on her breast and could find no reason to remove it.
He whispered in her ear, ‘I’ve got a room of my own in the place where I lodge. It’s only small, but it’s private. Will you come?’
Upbringing and common sense told her to refuse. Then an inner voice reminded her of what she had said to Leo. ‘I thought you were supposed to be free of Victorian morality,’ it said. ‘You’re a modern, progressive woman, a free spirit. What’s the matter with you?’
She swallowed hard. ‘Yes, all right.’
His room was a freezing garret at the top of an old house. He took her in his arms and murmured, ‘I’m sorry it’s so cold. We’ll be warm once we’re in bed.’
His fingers fumbled with the buttons on her dress. She felt she should help but did not want to break free of his embrace. When the last button gave and he pulled the dress down from her shoulders she had to draw back to step out of it. He let her go and turned his back to pull off his jacket and then his shirt. Victoria, shivering, shed the rest of her undergarments and he stayed with his back to her until she had scrambled between the sheets. Then he finished stripping and slid in beside her. In contrast to the cold, rough sheets his body was warm and his skin surprisingly smooth. She pressed herself against him and felt a quiver of ecstasy run though her nerves. He kissed her again, his thumb caressing her nipple, and she felt a sudden wetness between her thighs. Then, suddenly, he was on top of her, thrusting, panting hotly in her ear, and she was struggling against him. There was a sharp pain and then he drew back and looked down into her face.
‘Jeez, Victoria! You’re . . . Was this your first time?’
She stared back at him. Anger had taken the place of desire. ‘What sort of woman do you take me for? A common prostitute?’
‘No! No, of course not. But I assumed . . . you seemed to be a woman of the world. I never imagined . . .’
‘And I suppose you have a great deal of experience in these matters.’
She saw the colour rise in his face. ‘No . . . no, I . . . It was my first time, too.’
‘I see. So you chose me to . . . to induct you into the mysteries of sex.’
‘No! It wasn’t like that at all. I really love you, Victoria. I thought you felt the same about me.’
She rolled over to face away from him. She remembered Leo’s warning and realized that she had been irresponsible, to say the least. Now she found herself in a situation she did not know how to deal with. She threw back the blanket and got up.
‘What are you doing?’ Luke said.
‘Getting dressed. I have to get back to the nurses’ home.’
‘You can’t! Not at this time of night. Come back to bed, please! I won’t touch you, I promise.’
‘I can’t stay out all night and then walk into the hospital tomorrow as if nothing has happened. I have to go back.’
‘Then I’ll come with you.’
‘There’s no need.’
‘Of course there is. I can’t let you walk back through a strange town on your own at this time of night.’
They pulled on their clothes in silence and he followed her down to the street. Outside the cold struck through her clothes like a knife and she set off as fast as she could walk. He kept beside her but for a while he said nothing.
Eventually, when they were almost at the door of the house, he broke the silence. ‘Victoria, I just want to tell you I’m sorry for what happened tonight. I really thought you knew . . . well, knew what to expect. But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you. Please don’t let this make any difference between us.’
‘I . . . don’t know.’ She groped for words. ‘I’ll have to think about it. Just give me time.’
‘Of course. You can take all the time you want. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Just say you forgive me for tonight.’
‘It was my fault, too. I must go in. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’ He reached out to her but she opened the door and slipped inside before he could touch her.
Next morning when she woke every part of her body seemed to hurt; but in a few moments the pain concentrated in two places – her head, which ached sickeningly, and the area between her legs. Memory flooded back and with it a new anxiety. Suppose she was pregnant? She had heard that there were ways a man could protect a woman from conceiving, but she was hazy about the details. One thing she was fairly sure about was that Luke had taken no such precautions. The prospect of giving birth out of wedlock terrified her. She began to see that her brave boast of independence and modernity had severe limitations. The life she envisioned for herself had no place in it for a child; certainly not one rejected by society as a bastard and totally dependent on her for support. There was another possibility, of course. A married woman need have no such fears. But the prospect of marriage to Luke was equally at odds with her expectations. She recalled how she had boasted to Leo that she had no intention of allowing herself to be at any man’s beck and call. She liked Luke and her reaction the previous evening had proved that she found him attractive; but if married life meant a repetition of what had happened at the climax of their love-making it was not something she could bear to imagine.
As she worried away at the problem a new thought occurred to her. Once, during her short career as a racing driver, she had heard an older woman telling a friend that there were doctors in London who would relieve a woman of the burden of an unwanted pregnancy, for a fee. Well, she had money. The solution was obvious. She must get back to England as soon as possible.