Belle was touched by that; she liked Vera too. She was sunny, warm and often very funny. She had no side to her, in fact Belle often had to explain Sally’s snobby remarks because Vera had been brought up in a classless society and had no experience of that side of Englishness. Vera had understood Belle’s dilemma with Etienne and Jimmy, neither approving nor disapproving. She said in her usual calm and rational way that she believed Belle had only turned to Etienne for comfort after Miranda’s death, and that she mustn’t do or say anything in haste as she was likely to regret it later.
The following morning a brief letter came from Etienne. He just said that he’d moved up. He couldn’t tell her where to, and he hadn’t mentioned whether his regiment was in reserve or at the front line. ‘I just want you to know you are in my thoughts constantly,’ he wrote. He was right about his written English being bad; he used the right words but mostly couldn’t spell them correctly.
I am hurting because I know I have put you in an impossible situation. Sometimes I think I should not have come to see you because now I am here, with so many Tommies close by, I feel ashamed of myself for wanting another man’s wife.
Yet that hasn’t stopped me making plans in my head. One which seemed perfect, though now I see as only desperation on my part, was that you should disappear from the hospital and go to my place in Marseille to wait for me. How could I suggest such a thing? You would lose all those you hold dear, and they would grieve for you again, just as they did when you disappeared before. I couldn’t find happiness by causing so much pain to others, and you would never be able to forgive yourself.
The only real way is the honest one, to face Jimmy together and tell him the truth. I tell myself that if he loves you, he will want your happiness. But I know only too well that few men are that noble. Not when they know they will lose the person most precious to them.
Belle began to cry then. Etienne’s first idea was one she’d considered and discarded for much the same reasons. The second, however honourable, was one she knew she could never agree to. She just wasn’t brave enough to see Jimmy devastated.
She almost wished Etienne had been merely playing with her and would soon grow tired of the game. But the rest of his letter was an outpouring of love for her and it was clear he had no intention of letting her go.
During the last week of June the number of hospital trains coming in with wounded dropped considerably. All the staff who had been here for a year or more said this was just a lull before the storm. It looked as if Jimmy had been right and another big assault was coming soon, because when Belle went to the wards, she could see the doctors and nurses striving to clear them of everyone well enough to be moved. It was clear the hospital was gearing up for another huge intake of casualties.
With fewer hospital trains coming in, Belle and some of the other drivers stopped meeting the trains and instead took recovering wounded to Calais and the hospital ships. Belle was glad of the change; the patients were delighted finally to have their Blighty ticket and were in good spirits, and it was good to see what was going on in the busy port.
The streets of Calais were full of soldiers, Australians, New Zealanders, Canadians and new recruits from England on their way either to training camps or to the front. There were more Americans now too, just a relatively small advance party of professionals who would train the conscripts yet to come.
A couple of these men were at the wharf to help Belle and David with the wounded, but while they were glad to have assistance with the heavy lifting, Belle found the soldiers’ manner a little irritating. They were overly jovial and made it clear they considered the American army vastly superior to the British. Given that the United States had sat on their hands for three years, and had only finally agreed to come in to help when their ships had been torpedoed, Belle thought they had no right to act as though they were the saviours.
The big, fresh-faced blond who looked as if he was straight off a farm, kept making disparaging quips about the Tommies looking weary and bedraggled. ‘What’s up with them all?’ he asked. ‘They act like they already lost the war. So cynical too, we ask them things and all they say is, “You’ll find out for yourself soon, mate.” The Frogs are even worse, most of them look like hobos, filthy uniforms and they don’t even shave. They sure as hell don’t look like soldiers.’
‘They’re exhausted, they’ve been ground down to their knees,’ Belle retorted. ‘They don’t want to tell you what it’s like because almost all of them have seen friends they came out here with killed. They’ve had bad food, little rest, they eat, sleep and live in the most horrible conditions, most haven’t had any leave since they got here. But don’t you for one moment doubt their courage, they rally round when that whistle blows to go over the top, they’ve all got hearts like lions. As for some of the French not shaving, don’t think because you’ve got smarter uniforms and neat hair-cuts that will keep you safe! What counts on the front is guts, shooting fast and straight, and the ability to crawl to a shell hole when you are wounded, or you’ll die out there.’
‘Well, mam, that told us,’ he replied, clearly taken aback that a young woman could speak with such passion. ‘I guess we’re in for a bit of a shock then.’
‘You certainly are,’ she said. ‘I just hope you two make it home again. There’s hardly a woman left in England that hasn’t shed tears over her husband, son or brother. Today you are seeing the luckier men who are going home. They are maimed and broken, but at least they are alive. They all arrived here as keen as you are, buying into the valiant cause for King and Country. Now most will admit that war is the ugliest, cruellest thing they’ve ever seen, and they’ll be having nightmares about it for years to come.’
‘Hellfire, Belle!’ David exclaimed once they were back in the ambulance. ‘You really laid into them.’
Belle blushed. ‘Well, they needed telling. Who do they think they are, implying they are God’s gift?’
‘Not like you to be so crabby,’ he said. ‘Maybe you really do need to go home.’
She had only told him she was considering going home to put him off questioning her further as to why she seemed withdrawn. Yet in the days that followed she found herself thinking that maybe it was the solution to her problems.
It didn’t seem right to be here in France with the two men she was torn between so near. For all she knew, they could even be close to each other. That was unlikely, after all, even if they were both at Ypres, the front line stretched for miles with tens of thousands of soldiers along its length. But that didn’t matter, they were there, she was here. And she felt she must distance herself from them both.
Etienne was certain to turn up here again. He wasn’t the kind to care about getting permission, he’d spent his entire life bending rules and living on his wits. But if Belle wasn’t here she couldn’t be tempted again. Back home in the ordered normality of life with Mog and Garth she’d be able to think straight again and put aside this madness.
And it
was
madness. How could she even think of leaving Jimmy? He was the kind of husband all women dreamed of. What did she really know about Etienne? He might have saved her life back in Paris, but when she first met him he was no more than a hired thug.
In the cold light of day it seemed to her that by the time the war was over and Jimmy came home, she might very well find he was the man she wanted after all. Perhaps Vera was right and the fling with Etienne was only a moment of madness brought on by Miranda’s death.
But if she still wanted Etienne at the end of the war, then at least she’d be able to spare Jimmy the pain of her faithlessness. She would just say she’d found she didn’t love him any more, and leave. He need never be hurt further by knowing the truth.
In the days that followed she went about her work with the same care as always. In the early evening she continued to go into the wards and read to men who had been blinded, or write letters for those who couldn’t manage it themselves. Later on she and Vera would sit and chat over a mug of cocoa. Belle didn’t want to discuss her dilemma. Vera was not as strait-laced as most English women, and she found it understandable that Belle would turn to an old friend while she was grieving, but even she would be shocked to hear the whole truth.
So they talked about patients they had got to know and like, about what a mixed bunch the other drivers were, and their lives back home. Belle loved to hear about New Zealand and Vera had the knack of painting pictures with words. Belle could almost see her home, a white-painted clapboard double-fronted shop close to the sea, where her parents made bread and cakes in the bakery behind. She could imagine the heat of the ovens, the smell of baking bread, and the small bedroom up in the eaves with a view of the sea that was Vera’s.
‘My brothers had the room at the back, and they sometimes climbed out the window at night, down on to the bakery roof to go out and meet their friends without Ma and Pa knowing,’ she told Belle. ‘They always got caught out, someone would tell Ma the next day they’d seen them. I never understood why they did it; nothing ever happens in Russell, well, other than men getting drunk in the pub. But they were too young then to be going in there.’
Her brothers Spud and Tony were somewhere here in France. Vera got only the standard postcard from them, which told her even less than Jimmy’s letters to Belle did. Vera was very glad they were in the Engineers, laying telephone wires, tunnelling and doing other jobs which kept the army going. Though from what Belle knew such duties could be just as dangerous, as telephone lines went right to the front line and needed repairing there all the time.
It was three weeks after her night with Etienne. Belle had made the decision she was going home, and she told Vera before she did anything further about it. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I know it’s not right to be cheating on Jimmy, but if I stay here Etienne will come back and I can’t trust myself with him.’
Vera’s face crumpled. ‘I don’t want you to go,’ she said. ‘I’ll miss you so much.’
Belle was very touched and was reminded of just how much she had leant on Vera in the past few weeks. ‘Then come with me? I could show you London, we could get jobs together. Mog would love to have you stay, and so would I.’
Vera sighed and pulled a glum face. ‘I wish I could, but with Miranda gone and now you, when the next big assault starts they are going to be hard-pressed for drivers. Besides, I’d feel bad about not being here for my brothers if they need me. They might think they are big tough men, but to me they are just my little brothers.’
‘I can’t see any way out except to go home,’ Belle said sadly. ‘All I do is think about Etienne. He’s on my mind from the moment I wake up till I fall asleep at night. Everything here reminds me of him. I have to try and save my marriage and I stand a better chance of doing that at home.’
Vera nodded. ‘Then you must go home, Belle. I’m no expert in such things, I haven’t even been in love, so my opinion is worthless really. But from what you’ve said about Jimmy he sounds a good man, and you were happy with him before Etienne turned up. I’m sure once you’re home everything will fall into place again. Just promise me you’ll keep in touch. I don’t want to lose you.’
The next morning Belle had planned to do her usual duties, then go and see Captain Taylor around five in the afternoon. But as always before she began work in the morning, she went to see if there were any letters for her, and there was one from Mog.
Just seeing the familiar writing on the envelope lifted her spirits a little. She hadn’t had a reply about Miranda’s death, and aside from wanting to know if Mog had gone to the funeral, she also needed the comfort of her motherly words.
The letter began just as she had expected, saying how shocked and sorry Mog was to hear about Miranda’s death; that everyone in the village was horrified too. But then, just as she was expecting Mog to suggest she came home, the letter suddenly took on a very different tone which made Belle feel faint with shock.
If I didn’t think you might be intending to come home because you’ve lost your friend, I wouldn’t tell you about what has happened here. So I must tell you how it is so you stay away.
That Blessard man has been spilling the beans about you. It’s all over the village. He must have found out that Miranda went to France with you, then when he heard about her death, wormed his way into interviewing her mother.
Miranda’s death was reported in the newspaper before I got your letter. It was just like any other news story, how the accident happened, and then about her grieving family and the date and time of the funeral. I was horrified of course to read it like that, but I knew you would’ve written straight away and that the letter telling me more about it would soon arrive.
So I went to the funeral. There were a great many people there and I didn’t get a chance to speak to Mrs Forbes-Alton. But a couple of her cronies gave me sharp looks which made me feel very uncomfortable, as if I had no right to be there. It was my intention to write to the family and offer my condolences once I’d heard from you.
Then a couple of days later, the same day I got your letter, someone brought that rag of a paper Blessard writes in into the bar and showed it to Garth. He’d written an article about Miranda’s accident, and that she’d gone to France with you. He quoted her mother as saying, ‘I was never happy about her going off there, but she was persuaded to do so by Mrs Belle Reilly. I couldn’t think why a married woman would be wanting to go to France to drive an ambulance. It was all very suspicious.’